“Getting old is no fun”, as my mum used to say. But I never thought it would happen to me.
I do get occasional glimpses of an old man in the mirror, who is clearly far older than what I think I am. But oddly, if out with old friends, I think that they are showing signs of ageing, but that I must be Benjamin Button.
But I do whinge like one of those miserable old gits, you occasionally have the misfortune to meet. I constantly think about my next meal, and although I still find attractive the same age of women, that I did thirty years ago. They do not fancy me (nor did they thirty years ago!)
Straight into it:
This will be a series of Grumpy Old Man (GOM) articles about subjects that really annoy me. The list is long and growing. You could be here for some time……
Well, I say village, but it is nearly at town status, with all the new developments that have recently been completed or are in the process of being finished. Those that are looking for planning approval will soon get fast tracked with this numbskull government.
After all, immigrants must be housed somewhere, so why not here. Crime is currently very low, so we need to get it up to more average levels. Rumour has it the nursing home that I was looking forward to going into, is closing due to being “no longer suitable for its clients” What an utter BS justification, rumour is that it is going to become a holding centre for migrants. TBC.
Anyway, I digress, this section is to be a brief intro to the rest of the article (yet to be written) giving you some insight of what goes through the mind and the mouth of a GOM.
Now I am only going to put in inverted commas my wife’s responses. I do most of the talking (AKA moaning) usually, and I cannot be bothered to capture my words in inverted commas. So I will put my comments in italics
Groundhog Day:
The car is loaded with one lovely Latvian lady, one obnoxious GOM, two obnoxious dogs, dog leads, dog towels (prompt to write about that subject) water for dogs and us, poo bags (not for us, but another topic to be covered) and we set off for the drive to our daily walk.
My wife has pre-planned it using either OS Maps or Outdoor Active Apps, and the drive to the parking place is made using Waze. She has probably checked that the village hall or pub car park we are heading for are not barriered off via Google Maps. In short, she is switched on regarding maps and many other things, and therefore deserves to walk every village in Norfolk, as is her wish. Having walked the more local circular routes to death, we now venture further afield. I do the driving, follow the lady on Waze and just follow the lady with the phone in her hand on the walk.
If she keeled over, I would be stuffed to know which way to go to summon help, but one of the dogs always remembers the way back to the car. Plus, my iPhone does show where the ‘parked car’ is.
She isn’t perfect in her planning, as some ‘no longer than 4 miles’ often are 6, which usually leads to me accusing her of trying to kill me. It’s a good job, it’s not hilly in Norfolk. It’s also amazing how many ‘Public Paths’ are unmaintained and impassible, which we suspect is intentional on the part of the landowners.
The drive commences. Driving down our private road, which sounds very posh and desirable, unless you spend big chunks of your life filling the potholes, like I have, plus fishing suitable materials out of skips to fill those holes, which I love!
Still not out of the private road and if it’s a Monday, and general waste bin day: Have you noticed how the fatties down the road always have bins that are so full, the lids are not closed?
“Not in the last two weeks ago, since you mentioned it last time. Are you not going to mention the potholes you just avoided and your normal whinge about filling other people’s potholes?”
Not on this occasion, but have you noticed all the shingle from the last “retexturing” breaking away and gathering in the verges? Evidently the Resident Association does not like the term resurfacing.
“BTW, you are speeding”
It’s a private road, so it’s not enforceable, and doing 15 MPH is not really excessive.
We arrive at the junction at the end of the private road, where it joins the main thoroughfare Jeez, how many cars? the amount of traffic is getting worse.
“No worse than the last time you said that. I’ve told you we should move to one of those National Parks in Yorkshire, where building houses will not be allowed”
Sounds good, but Yorkshire is full of Yorkies and chances are these muppets in government will stick wind turbines or solar panels next door! Have you seen that dick Milliband on YouTube?
We reach the first mini roundabout. Thanks, mate, do not bother indicating to show you are turning left, I will just wait for you to exit the roundabout, so I know that I could had gone. Another one! You ignorant git! Although I do forgive you, as not many of those BMWs are fitted with indicators.
“You don’t always indicate, and you give me grief for constantly indicating”
That’s because I use my superior observation skills to identify that there are no other vehicles and pedestrians that would have benefitted from me indicating. I also do not see the point in indicating on a slip road entering a motorway or dual carriageway. Where else are you going?
“I don’t agree”
You don’t have to. That pothole is getting really bad!
Check out the logo on the side of that electric bus with four passengers onboard: “Funded by the UK Government” You are lying twats! why not be honest: “Funded by the UK taxpayer”
“Better to have four onboard, when we never spotted one passenger on any of the buses during the lockdowns, don’t you remember that the trains that passed through this place were the same?”
You are correct, utter friggin madness, and all the sheeple wearing masks and stepping out on to the roads to avoid getting close to people on the paths. More probably died from jay walking than ever did from rebranded flu, I love the Darwin Awards. Plus, most are so stupid that they do not consider being seriously overweight will kill them first.
What are you staring at? I am twice the age of that fat bloke over there, I am allowed to put a bit of weight on, at my age. I imagine he has never seen his feet in years!
As for those two young girls. Notice the modern clone (dyed blonde with roots showing, trout pout, micro bladed eyebrows (yes, I had to Google that) Botox, false eye lashes and nails with a phone surgically attached to her tattooed hand) The one with the Costa in her other hand. I wonder why she is the “big boned” lass? And why wear a short skirt with those chunky white thighs, with one thigh tattooed, just to draw your attention to what a hideous look it is? Probably better that skintight jogging bottoms! Do these people have no self-awareness?
Ah, there’s a fatty in jogging pants, and pushing a pram! How does that work? Not only do I see that as a physical impossibility, but how can her man get “in the mood”? It’s got to be one of those artificial incineration things.
“You really are a miserable bugger; do you know what we call those false eye lashes in Latvia? “Sperm Pockets”
That’s funny, BTW, I have taught you some great English. And where would the world be, if the British had not exported humour?
“Actually, Russians have the best self-deprecating humour, and why have you stopped behind that car (waiting to overtake a parked car) at such a distance?
Tyres and tarmac dear, tyres and tarmac, good driving practise.
In Germany, they teach you to stop as close to the stationary vehicle in front at lights etc, to compact the queue”
Jeez, my first wife gave me grief for stopping too close to the car in front, and you give me grief for not getting close enough! FFS!! BTW, have I ever told you that the British not only invented the motorcar, but we also invented tyres and tarmac?
“That’s bollocks, now drive forward, as the car in front has moved, but stop and wait for all the cars to come the other way”
Language, language Mein Fuhrer. Have you noticed how few of these drivers acknowledge you for waiting for them? I forgive the women drivers, they obviously do not know I am here, as for that stuck up bint in the Range Rover with the expensive sunglasses staring down her nose, it’s far too below her to acknowledge me for waiting in my cheap Volvo estate.
“Is that why you gave her the finger?”
Yes, I would not dare do it, if it she was a bloke! Perhaps she was, you can never tell these days.
We turn the corner
Another brick wall demolished! that’s three different walls in three months. How can anyone be such bad drivers? At least this one is on a bend, so you can forgive some cock in an Audi or BMW speeding, and losing it, the other two demolished walls were on straight road! How do you do that? There really are some shit drivers about! Why are you looking at me like that?
“You are not that great a driver yourself and have you not owned a number of BMWs?”
Yes, I have, but all of mine had indicators. Jeez, look at the tailback from the roundabout! I remember when there was so little traffic here, it’s all the bloody foreigners!! (looks at wife).
The journey to the roundabout on the dual carriageway. Obviously start/stop, obviously not close enough to the car in front on the stop part. She has a point; this queue could be half as long with the same number of cars. Don’t tell her though!
I feel guilty about all the comments about the fat lass pushing the pram. Do you know the word pram is short for perambulator? Such a great word, just like aerodrome, it conjures up a bygone past.
“You should feel guilty about what you said about her, and you and I would never have been flying from an aerodrome. That was for the wealthy. And the poor seemed to manage to bring lots of children up without the need for prams or perambulators”
I reckon that mum was likely a nice person. If she teaches that child to acknowledge drivers of other cars letting them through, it could well grow up to be a good human being. But I guarantee one thing….
“What’s that?”
It will be fat!