Carol Townsend wrote:
Thanks for educating me about The Rocky Horror Show.I had a look at Youtube and I'll add it to the ever-growing list of "Things I Should Have Done When Young and Must Do Before It's Too Late"
Carol,
To be too late for this you would have to be in a box, don't leave it too long an open mind is all that is required, enjoy
Just realised I spelt German Bight incorrectly. When I was a child I thought it was bite which I found very baffling. Like you, Tony and Sandra, I used to like listening to the shipping forecast, but I'm ashamed to say I hardly listen to BBC radio these days. Hmmm, there's a name for a character- not German Bight, but how about Viking Cromarty?
The forecast isn't very relaxing if you're stuck on a fishing boat in the North Sea and they've just forecast a storm of course. Most dangerous occupation and hobby in Britain you know; fishing.
Now, David and Confused Jack, of course I waffle! It's what I do see, why I'm Queen of Waffle, see, and very proud of the title I am too!
David, I'm not sure if I do, or do not want to know what goes on in the dry store ( I'm a bit indecisive these days) but there is romance, and there is lust. I'm guessing the latter is what takes place in the dry store...
You are most unpredictable. I was expecting some scathing comment about my writing a romantic novel, and was mentally girding my loins (if you'll pardon the expression) in readiness to do battle, but nope, not a word! Tony, I would imagine, just sat back and smiled, in a laid-back kind of way, and Bill I know is probably off-line in his time-warp. All I can say is that I think you must be a secret fan of the genre. It's OK, you're amongst friends here if you wish to get it off your chest..
Gary, my mind is always wide open!
Love
Auntie Noe
xxx
Hey Tony and Sandra!
I've discovered you can buy a decorative map of the areas covered by the BBC shipping forecast! Have a look at http://www.shippingforecast.enta.net
I wonder if Paul T would like one. When's his birthday?
I worry about myself sometimes. I think I need a holiday.Or even a life...
Noe
Noe
That's a step too far even for me. I do the Shipping Forecast and the Archers, how much sadder do you wish me to become, the way things are going I'll be knitting soon, not to mention wearing vests.
Sandra
I followed the link and was quite unimpressed with the map. I was, however, amused by the big sell... READY TO FRAME! A PERFECT PRESENT FOR RADIO 4 ADDICTS AND SAILORS!
THIS MAP REALLY IS A "MUST" FOR LOVERS OF THE SHIPPING FORECAST!!
And yes, I listen to the Archers and have done for many, many years. It's not so much that I make a point of listening to it but the radio in the kitchen is permanently tuned to BBC Radio 4 and I tend to be cooking dinner at that time in the evening. Aaaahhh! (He sighed fondly) Radio 4... no shouting or irritating jingles or young people's music to clutter up the head.
Poor Bill will have no idea what we are waffling about again. Sorry mate.
Bruv,
You have made me feel sorry for Bill, so I've had a look in the archives, and noticed that I haven't posted any stories since may 21st, if I'm not mistaken.
I'm working on my romantic leaflet, but in the meantime, here's one I think Bill will understand.
I wrote it some time ago, and was waiting for a suitable cue to launch it, but one hasn't surfaced, so here goes:
I’m sorry, but there it is. He is not living in a retirement home, or moving unnoticed amongst us, but left this unfortunate planet in 1977. I remember the announcement coming through the radio as I was in my bedroom drying my hair.
His passing has created a whole new career for impersonators, or as they call themselves: ETA’s, that is: Elvis Tribute Artists, of whom I have seen but one.
I am not a dedicated Elvis fan, but when my friend said: “Would you like to come on a girls’ night out and see an Elvis impersonator, er- tribute artist?” I couldn’t resist it, particularly as he was performing in my local Indian restaurant, which seemed delightfully quirky and incongruous.
It was a good deal; £25 for a set meal (drinks extra) with a performance from Elvis, and the restaurant only five minutes walk away.
So, I dug out my best frock (circa nineteen –eighty –something) from the depths of my wardrobe, unchained myself from the sink and met my friends and strolled to the restaurant.
I like having a set meal; no decisions to make. They just put everything on the table in front of you; you tie your napkin under your chin, grab a knife and fork, and dive in.
The clientele mostly consisted of ladies of all ages; from those who remembered Elvis when he was a mere slip of a lad, to those who were not even born when he passed on. I put myself somewhere in the middle of those two categories. There were some men; all with exactly the same expression, which said: “I’ve think I’ve made a mistake. Why did I come here? Look at all those women. We men are outnumbered three to one. Where can I hide?”
I can understand; some of the younger and more euphoric ladies had started their evening in the hostelry next door some hours earlier, and were determined to have a good time.
The meal over, we waited for Elvis, wondering how he could perform in what is a very small restaurant.
The lights were dimmed, the smoke machine was switched on (HATE those things, I always cough!)) and the fanfare began.
Elvis had entered the building!
He swaggered in (from the kitchen probably) to tumultuous applause and shrieks, waving and smiling; white jumpsuit, shades, classic haircut, the lot.
He adopted his Elvis voice, and thanked us for coming.
The show began. Elvis performed with his own “live” voice; no miming, with an impressive sound system.
He wandered around the tiny restaurant crooning to various individuals and the euphoric young ladies began to work themselves up into a frenzy. The men squirmed in their seats, and one teenage boy who had come to support his family decided he couldn’t take any more and vacated the restaurant.
We were distracted for a moment by the appearance outside of some young lads who peered through the restaurant windows and made impolite gestures and comments.
Elvis was not going to put up with that. He marched to the door, and still in character, with his best Elvis voice, told them where to go, to the cheers and claps of the clientele, led by the euphoric young ladies.
The lads ran off, laughing, and Elvis slipped out of character for a moment, calling their intelligence and parentage into question in his normal South London accent.
An interval was called for dessert and more wine, and Elvis retreated to his dressing room (the kitchen).
He emerged some twenty minutes later, with the white jumpsuit having being exchanged for black leathers. This was too much for one of the euphoric young ladies, who had to be restrained by her no less euphoric friends.
All was going well when Elvis paused for a moment to have a sip of water.
He picked up his microphone; there was a brief burst of music and fizz bang! The sound system spluttered and died.
“Oh Elvis! And you were doing so well!” cried the most euphoric of the euphoric young ladies. She did well to speak at all; she had done nothing but drool for the past ten minutes.
Panic stations. The waiters rushed to Elvis’s aid, but none of them it seemed were sound engineers. They did manage to discover the cause of the problem, however; he had spilt water on some wires. Someone was sent out for a hairdryer.
Now let’s hear it for the good-natured and by and large tolerant British! The Dunquerque spirit and stiff upper lips emerged. We would not let little things like no sound system and an embarrassed Elvis stop us from having fun!
While the waiters ran around like Basil Fawlty on a bad day, and maybe in other parts of the world there would be mass walk-outs and demands for refunds and threats of legal action, the clientele decided that all was not lost, and we would make our own entertainment.
So, we sang our own Elvis numbers, accapella style, and a jolly fine job we made of it too. Well, in as much as there was no-one there who knew all of the lyrics of any one song, so it was more like “Excerpts of Elvis’s Greatest Hits; The Remix”.
The hairdryer arrived (from Elvis‘s personal stylist I guess) and we were treated to the sight of Elvis blow- drying his sound system.
It didn’t work. Poor Elvis. He apologised in his normal voice and explained what had happened. He told us that someone had been sent out for some Elvis CDs (so that’s why they introduced twenty- four- hour -shopping!) and he would try to perform with them as background music. Meanwhile, more drinks arrived and we continued with the accapella songs.
The CDs arrived, and Elvis made a valiant attempt to recover his dignity and, trouper that he was, continued with the show. He did his best, bless him, but it wasn’t the same. It was very difficult to perform to a CD being played on a small portable player, especially as some of the songs were not in his repertoire (which I hope he is now going to increase) and it was obvious that people were beginning to lose interest as some were having conversations during the performance, and some had decided to call it a night and gone home.
Not so the euphoric young ladies however. They were now euphoric to the point of hysteria; and one young lady had decided to start up a conga line around Elvis, who began to look rather alarmed as she was having difficulty keeping her hands off him.
He decided to bring the show to and end, out of embarrassment and fear of what the increasingly lustful young lady would do next.
The show was over. He thanked the stalwarts who had stayed on (we wanted our money’s worth) apologised again for the fiasco, and to express his gratitude he offered to buy drinks for everyone in the place (well, maybe not the waiters)
He then made his exit into his dressing room (kitchen) followed closely by the aforementioned young lady, but managed to escape her boozy clutches.
All in all, it was a most satisfactory evening. He did have a pretty good voice, and we have since him twice more, but nothing compares to that evening.
Thank you very much.
Oh, and in case you don’t believe me, his name is Nasar Sufian and he has his own website, though why I should give him free publicity when he has never done me any favours I really don’t know.
Nasar, you owe me one mate.
Once again a delightful funny tale of what to most people would just be a mundane occurance. Your telling of the audience singing bits and pieces of songs remind me of some of our old camping trips. One couple always brought their guitars and late at night around the campfire after a long evening and singing we would always attempt the classic Eagle's hit 'Hotel California'. After many an evening mauling the words someone bought the sheet music and henceforth we stood there with candles and flashlights singing all the words perfectly (but still way off key) before dousing the fire and going to bed.
Hmm,
Why does this "aliens" theme keep appearing on this thread? Special Agent Watkins is quiet, which can only mean one thing; he's on a mission.......
Bill, I don't know which worries me more, the fact that aliens have reared their (multiple?) heads, or that you have heard of "The Sun", which masquerades as a newspaper.
I love the comment from Bonnie: "I'm not into sci fi but I know these were not from this planet."
Er, how could she know?
And thanks for your kind comments as always Bill! Gives me a lovely warm glow inside it does!
Noe
Loved the story reminded me of so many nights when I have been dragged off to "tribute " bands - I hate them but always become convinced after the X glass of wine. Always end up the ultimate grumpy old woman. If you are wondering why I am up at this early hour have put my back out yet again, this time moving the compost in bin, wish I would stop thinking I'm young - I ain't. Needed to stretch and drink a cup or two of Barrys tea. By the way have it on good authority that Elvis has left the building.
Billl
Your life sounds so idyllic - I really must try harder.
Morning Sandra,
I'm an early riser too, usually.
I sympathise about the back; I've had a partially slipped disc twice, the second time was through squeezing a flannel! It had its compensations; I had to see a physio for a few weeks who was gorgeous! About twenty years younger than me (would have made a nice toy boy) curly black hair, big brown eyes, lovely smile...reminded me of David Essex, who I was a big fan of once. Sigh...
Bill, Sandra is right. You should write a book;"How To be Contented".
Noe
Of no interest whatsoever but this weekend better half has retired, no panic , he's going back to work, I can crack a whip with the best of them. Have world and wife arriving tomorrow for large party, forecast is crap and with back giving me stick I am now thinking I am one sad bunny. Wish you were here. Well' not unless you can make 10 savoury flans fire up the barbie and tell me why my home made
ice cream looks a dogs breakfast. No worries,c'est la vie.
I don't know that my life has been any less troubled or stress-free than anybody elses, but my mother raised all of us kids with the philosophy that nobody 'gives a rat's a$$' about any problems other than their own so don't waste your time complaining. 'Deal with it and get on with your life'. Through the years I've found that focusing on the positive has served me well.
Leaving shortly for the cottage. Forecast is for storms off and on all weekend. Oh well, guess we'll just have to find other things than boating and swimming in order to have fun
and singing we would always attempt the classic Eagle's hit 'Hotel California'. After many an evening mauling the words someone bought the sheet music and henceforth we stood there with candles and flashlights singing all the words perfectly (but still way off key) before dousing the fire and going to bed.
About twenty years younger than me (would have made a nice toy boy) curly black hair, big brown eyes, lovely smile...reminded me of David Essex, who I was a big fan of once. Sigh...
