Is Mecannylad just another Townie on a collision course with the countryside? Can he hack it in the bracing air of the fabulous Peak District? Will he survive amongst the farming set and their prize winning friesians? ....... This staunch Geordie carries fond memories from the gritty back streets of 1960`s Tyneside when a Big Mac was nothing more than a raincoat, a joint was only the Sunday roast and going all the way was simply staying on the bus until the terminus.
Mecannylad thinks her face is interesting … it looks lived in. I can just see her sat in front of a mirror in the morning putting her make up on saying something like, “ Oh f**k it … that`ll do !
To be honest she looks more than lived in, she looks squatted in …. by really interesting tenants! And her eyelashes !! They are so full-on they look like they`ve painted a thousand bedroom walls. I know some locals think she always looks pissed …. but not Mecannylad. I think she looks like she has just had knock-your-knickers-off nooky before the start of every shift.
I recommend you all come up and see her sometime soon for yourself .... and if you are disappointed ? .... then I`ll buy you a pint for your troubles !!
In my book doctors are supposed to be wise old men with white hair, tweed jackets and black bags packed full of penicillin, but the last doctor I saw looked so young when the damned school bell rang next door Mecannylad expected him to rush off home.
It’s ridiculous. If someone is going to manhandle my nether regions I’d at least like them to be shaving regularly and not to be called Jason … or Wayne … or Shane.
Mecannylad expects a doctor should be at least be a Henry or an Archibald … or a good old Charles !!
Mecannylad loves football with a passion, always has done, since being a kid in short trousers cheering on Jackie Milburn at good old St James Park.
But what is happening to our beautiful game ? Most modern day footballers seem to leading a life that would make Nero blush; full of promiscuity, misogyny, gambling and drinking.
And yet while their revolting off field behaviour has been casually accepted as par for the course, we are now having a fit of the vapours because of recent so called racist outbursts amongst the players during `the heat of battle`.
Are you all bloody blind !! It’s this culture of yobbery and self-serving excess in football — not players excitedly swearing at one another — that is the real problem. For God`s sake come to your senses and address the issues that matter!
“I`ve noticed we are nearly out of gin.” observes Mecannylass. “No, sorry” she adds without taking so much as another breath, … “what's left is mine; I should have said …. you're nearly out of your share of the gin!"
The spirit of Christmas indeed !
“What do you think that contraption is over there on the side of our church? I can`t ever remember seeing it before” said old Hilda to Mecannylad. “I think it`s some sort of medieval sundial Hilda. It`s been there almost 400 years ” says me ….. Without any hint of irony Hilda chips back. “Ooh; what will they think of next!”
I hadn`t seen old Hilda out and about for a while but Mecannylad did bump into her fleetingly as we were both battling throught the gales along the main street the other afternoon. She was struggling to hold on to her hat and didn`t seem to realise that the gusty conditions were revealing her less than youthful stockinged legs.
“Look mecannylad, everything down there is nearly ninety years old; this bloody hat is brand new" Hilda quipped as she merrily went on her way !!
I think I had heard that one before ... but it still raised a smile coming so spontaneously as it did from such a straight laced upstanding spinster such as Hilda Mompesson.
Why does Mecannylass insist on engaging Mecannylad in conversation about her ailments when there is live football on TV.
So …. she has a bad cough! .... Jesus Christ, it's not going to get any worse or any better in the next 90 minutes is it ? GOAL!!!!!!
Put the damn thing away will you! Mecannylad doesn`t give a fiddlers about all the bloody useless apps you have on your latest iPhone 4S. You prancing tossers.... You didn't invent them ... you were only gullible enough to buy the bloody silly marginally upgraded thing so soon after its predecessor. More fool you.... nothing but consumer snobs.
Must have been desperate. Mecannylad did a bit of last minute Christmas shopping in downtown Chesterfield yesterday. Haven`t been there for ages … and to be honest I really wasn`t that surprised at not being able to get what I went for.What a dump; every other bloody shop is now either a greasy spoon café or a fast food outlet.
The poor town is no more than a bloody hall of fame for Diabetes.
I was just minding my own business waiting in a small queue at the local grocery store recently when this young teenage Richard Cranium (dickhead) from the other end of the village decided to engage me in some of his mesmerising conversation.
`Excuse me , but did you know you`ve windows on your laptop?` he grunted.
I didn`t know what the `cheese and rice` he was on about …. until I got back home for Mecannylass to tell me that my trouser zip was down !
You can tell Xmas is coming at Mecannylad`s place. There are of course the regulation tell tale signs like satsumas and dates in the fruit bowl …. but the demeanour and performance levels of our normally surly and slap-dash dustbin men have suddenly taken a temporary turn for the better ?!
One of the essential ingredients for personal success in today`s crazy world is obviously vanity….. if you`ve got it, flaunt it….turn around ….. and flaunt it again. Wannabees are everywhere; wannabee rich, wannabee famous, wannabee a celebrity. And they are prepared to do anything, no matter how degrading, to strut their stuff …. me,me,me,me !!
I can remember Mecannylad would get into trouble at home just for looking in the mirror unnecessarily. I didn`t realise it at the time but we were brought up in Newcastle learning on no account to boast, push yourself forward, preen or show off…. And you know, as Mecannylad looks around today, that wasn`t such a bad thing after all!
.... Mecannylass thinks I am now making up for lost time though !! Cheeky bugger.
Mecannylad has been rummaging in the loft looking for Xmas tree decorations. I didn`t find the baubles I was looking for but did unearth the family ski gear from years ago.
What memories; skiing on what was little more than a bed of upturned scrubbing brushes at Sheffield Ski Village. How romantic ? ... how naf more like! ... met some wonderful people though; but equally Mecannylad has never come across so many sycophantic fanatics sharing the same opaque bubble as the ski instructor crowd at Sheffield.
I ask you. Ski instructors from this green and pleasant land we call England ??? How can you possibly take their credentials seriously? …… they surely are as alien as a domino team from Pakistan!
So instead I am going to bang on about the selfish sod in the ten items or less aisle at the supermarket today. …… He of eleven items ! I wouldn`t normally mind, but what a tiresome affected old Homo Grumpius he was …..a pin without either a head or a point; an unreconstructed wanker !
Mecannylad feels better after that! Have a nice weekend.
Our village landlord has been telling Mecannylad that they have taken on the same girl as last year to help out in the pub dining room over Christmas.
Oh my God ! From what I remember of her, even if you used a strobe light you would have to think twice whether she was moving or not …… and she`s no looker either, poor lass; an antidote to desire … her face could launch a thousand dredgers.
Sorry luv !!
The latest indication of rampant insanity in our village is the notion that an innocent little public footpath extension should be authorised only after firstly taking into consideration the lot of the gentle butterfly. OK, you`d have to be hard of heart not to love this delicate creature but … !!
I have my own suspicions that the locals behind this latest tosh are the same bunch of nutters who last year wanted to erect a ` Slow Down – Think Birds` sign. Their rationale for this was that speeding motorists are squashing too many insects on their windscreens thus depriving birds of a valuable source of food.
As I slug down a glass of Chablis with one hand and a bottle of Chesty Cough Compound with glycerine, lemon and ipecacuanha in the other, a couple of things are beginning to irritate Mecannylad.
Firstly, what the hell is Ipecacuanha when it`s out? …
… and secondly, what`s this with the trend for TV news readers to stand whilst reading the news headlines ? …. then to sit down for some items, and blow me, stand up again for others; bringing it all to a nail biting climax …..by, yes, sitting down at the end!
God damn you. It`s not some soliloquy from Macbeth; it`s only the News at Ten. …. bloody irritating if you ask me. Fill that glass will you; not so much ipecacuanha this time though.
This instruction was a regular plea from Mecannylad`s dear mother when I was a raggy-arsed young kid roaming the back streets of Byker.
I had no little Desmund Tutu lookalike playmates in those innocent days of sixty years ago but I still knew exactly where my mother was coming from. A well practiced reverse stroke of Mecannylad`s little forearm was all it ever took to solve my `blackman` problem. Whatever happened to him after completing this strange forearm ritual Mecannylad never knew; nor did I care ...... Wiping your snotty nose on the sleeve of your new jumper was a small price to pay if it meant you could go out to play !
Mecannylad is conscious that some locals have been asking me whether I might ever consider returning to the North East to live. Does this suggest that Mecannylass and I are beginning to overstay our welcome here in Derbyshire I wonder ?
Eyam, where I live, is a lovely peck on the cheek sort of place, whereas Newcastle was a big tongue down your throat sort of city.
Don`t get Mecannylad wrong, I still get down on my knees every night and thank God I am a Geordie…but at my time of life I have long since stopped gagging for a bit on the banks of the Tyne.
But eeh, Mecannylad; you always seem to be annoying somebody these days. I can`t change. Mecannylad lives by the maxim: `If you don`t dip your quill in vinegar now and again then it`s not worth dipping it at all.` After all, sacred cows all have hooves of clay … and I frankly enjoy kicking out against the pompous and the pricks.
Mecannylad is just proud to be himself … and proud to be British; the only nationality in Europe who are not semi-detached !! God save the Queen …. you can all sit down again !
Watch my lips ….I am not going anywhere! Mecannylad is as happy as as a pig in shit where he is!
I`ve always been of the opinion that our village should resist trying to sell itself as a year round visitor attraction.
This was brought home to Mecannylad in no uncertain way by yet another disappointed out of season day tripper.
“Hey mate,” spluttered this rotund, tattooed Mancunian bloke (with his equally rotund and equally tattooed ... and equally blokey looking wife by his side) “where`s the bleeding action in this village of yours ? We`ve walked up and down your main street twice and haven`t seen so much as a tom cat licking his bollocks yet."
"Tell you what guv … call yourself a tourist resort ??!!… should get yourself to Blackpool for some ideas”
In Alfie’s case chance had nothing to do with the predicament he found himself in on a warm evening two score and ten summers ago !
As the story goes Alfie, size eighteen in a boot, renowned local dry stone waller, drinker, daredevil and voyear was disturbed trying to have his drunken way with a docile carthorse in the field behind the village pub.
He had managed to get himself trapped. That’s to say, the horse had excitedly backed its not insignificant rear end against poor Alfie who had found himself well and truly stuck between it and one of his beloved - albeit crumbling - dry stone edifices.
Imagine then, if you will, the scene that greeted a group of walkers as they were passing over a nearby stile. They came across our male lothario balanced precariously on a pile of stones, pint glass in hand, trousers around his ankles .... and this amorous Clydesdale ! Nothing if not quick-thinking, the walkers alerted the Landlord who, for reasons best known to himself, then telephoned the local fire brigade in Bakewell 10 miles away, rather than the local vet 500 yards down the lane.
But by the time the fire engine had arrived the pub bush telegraph had of course attracted the tap-room regulars to the commotion in the nearby field.
When the fire service eventually arrived the cheers were rather akin to the cavalry coming over the hill in a John Wayne movie.
Bachelor Alfie passed quietly away last week ….. I think his story from 50 summers ago will linger awhile yet however !
I`m talking about Jane Fonda..... Even in her prime she never did much for Mecannylad. Now I see at 73 - her of leg warmer and leotard fame - is going for the burn yet again and trying to re-discover her youth .... with a regulation headline grabbing toy-boy lover in tow of course.
OK, so she has worked her skinny arse off to look as good as she does.You can`t tell me however she`s never succumed to a bit of collagen filler here and there.
Give me Diana Dors anyday ….. Mecannylass reminds me she`s long dead nowadays though !
What`s all this Motability lark about then? Mecannylad thought it was something to do with invalid carriages ... three wheelers for the disabled … that sort of thing.
Not on your nelly! Motability is now one of the biggest fleet management operations in our beloved country with a Chief Executive trousering in excess of £1.17 million a year thankyou.
These days even naughty schoolboys diagnosed with that make-believe disease Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) are classified as disabled. So as result, perfectly fit and able parents are entitled to a car under our outlandishly generous Motability Scheme. The Result? Thousands of families with children `disabled`by this cranky modern disorder swanning around on cool new alloys courtesy of the British taxpayer …. no questions asked. (well, let`s be honest, very basic ones!) Heh … and we are not talking about blue three wheelers here …. we are into the big badge stuff … Mercs, Beamers … the lot. Just fill in a simple form and it’s ’Ello mate, got a new motor!! Nice one if you can get it, indeed .... Bloody ridiculous if you ask Mecannylad.
What are the odds that Mecannylad, as an individual, really exists?
Pretty good, you'd guess, since you're sitting right there reading this blog. But, in an abstract sense, the chances of me existing in the first place were really rather slim to put it mildly.
Lets start small: The odds of Mecannylad`s father meeting his wife when he did was, according to demographic experts, 1 in 20,000.
But we know how tricky love can be, and the odds of them staying together long enough to have kids were, again according to UK national statistics at the time, 1 in 2,000.
So; the combined odds of Mecannylad being here stands at: 1 in 40,000,000.
But wait …. things start to get pretty interesting:
The odds of a particular egg (me) from my mother meeting up with my father`s one individual sperm (me) when it did, once again according to medical science, stands at :
1 in 400,000,000,000,000,000 (400 quad-trillion) …….
and not to mention of course, before all of this, there were the unique odds of my father surviving his brave journey as a front line soldier from the D Day beaches to Germany in 1944/45.
That`s why, my friends, I have never much cared for what other people think ….. Mecannylad knows he is extra, extra special. ….. but then again, so too are all of you !!!
Hilda was telling me that the village W.I. had their Christmas party yesterday. A good turn out; seats `were like coal dust` according to old H.
She mentioned that they`d booked a Glen Campbell `look alike` to start the `go as you please` but he only brought tape recordings with him for his band. Hilda was trying to tell Mecannylad that the live entertainment was a Glen Campbell tribute artist with his own electronic backing tracks.
He was canny apparently !!! …… ` Nine Stone Cowboy` was Hilda`s favourite. What can you say?
Daydreaming is a favourite pastime of Mecannylad these days. I wonder whatever happened to Clodagh Rodgers, my guilty pleasure of the 60`s. This clip proves without a shadow of doubt that women ARE sexier in flat shoes ! Geordie or not, eat your heart out Cheryl Cole.
If you have never had anything `run up` by a personal tailor then you are missing out on one of the most mature and indulgent of treats you could possibly experience. Clothes that fit perfectly – with a capital P - are a rare blessing in today`s off the peg jungle, and believe me, a subservient Jewish tailor who fusses over your every whim and preference is nothing short of orgasmic.
Mind you, I can`t imagine when I`ll wear this bloody new outfit of mine …. its going on six years since Mecannylad even wore a collar and tie and city shoes let alone a `whistle & flute`!!
Now where did I put that breast pocket hanky of mine? You know the sort I mean? ….. the type immaculately folded and cunningly stitched on to a piece of cardboard ……. to maintain that Errol Flynn look !!
Hmmm. What did I say about inside legs?
Fiscal irresponsibility? Global warming? International terrorism?
The big issue by far in Mecannylad`s household today is ….. does microwaving your kitchen cloth sterilise it ? … or does it remain as fertile as ever and leave your worksurfaces – and your microwave - a haven for MRSA?
Mecannylad found it more bother than it was worth trying to organise a Santa Claus for this year`s annual outdoor Christmas market.
No matter what you want to do nowadays some bugger will almost certainly poke a rule book in front of your bloody nose first.
I`m sure so called expert consultants lie in wait around every corner to tell you what you must do; what you can’t do …. and what you can only do so long as you kowtow to their obtuse permissions.
There really is something depressingly sick with our society, consumed by this risk assessment paranoia, which sees sinister motives in every innocent act of human kindness and regards every adult, who is only too willing to do something for kids, as a potential paedo waiting to pounce.
You can all stuff your Santa`s outfit up your arse …. along with your lousy risk assessment form of course. Merry Xmas !
Dear old Hilda seems to be hogging my blog these days ! This time she was in our little village post office buying stamps for her christmas cards .
You have to understand that she is a little hard of hearing and so our Postmistress was having difficulty determining whether Hilda wanted first or second class stamps.
It was quite understandable I suppose when the assistant decided that there was nothing else for it other than to raise her voice and ask a second time ....... “What denomination are you after Hilda ?”
Hilda was most indignant; “Roman Catholic dear ….. all my life. Now hurry up with my stamps, I haven`t got time for small-talk, it`s market day and I have a bus to catch to Bakewell.”
Just when Mecannylad was telling all-comers how much of a `happy couples` place Eyam was, along comes news of three impending divorces.
So I guess Mann, Rogers & Greaves will be rubbing their hands once again !?
Mecannylad was having a cup of coffee with my farmer friend Bo earlier this week.
He had been rather quiet lately…. but this time was obviously the right time for him to discuss an embarrassing matter with me.
Without much more than a blink of an eye old Bo turned his back to a large mirror on the wall in the hallway of his farmhouse, dropped his trousers around his ankles, put his head between his legs to give me a graphic tour of his …. newly diagnosed hemerhhoids !!!
Mecannylad bumped into to good old Hilda again yesterday as she was going about her chores along the Main Street.
`Can you see that strange man over there.` said Hilda, `That fellow wearing the tweed cat flap`…. `well, he`s just been measuring the road with a wheelie thing.`
She went on to tell me that she had heard on the grapevine that the Town Council was considering installing a pedestrian crossing close to the church.
`There is no need for that sort of big city thing around here.` moaned Hilda. `It`s unparalyzed in the history of our little village.`
I believe you Hilda. I believe you !
OK. Not everyone agrees with strikes. Sitting in my cosy little corner of the Peak District Mecannylad is somewhat removed from the eye of this particular storm. Don`t be too quick to criticise our hard working Dinner Ladies and Nurses just because they have inconvenienced some of us with their recent one day industrial action.
Remember. They haven`t bankrupt the nation - a bunch of wanker bankers did that three or four years back.... and to this day are still getting bloody big bonuses for doing it !
Sometimes you have just got to hold your hands up and begrudgingly acknowledge the cutting edge of your spouse`s sharp tongue.
Mecannylad and Mecannylass were enjoying another one of those healthy cum heated pre-ambles towards bed time when, all of a sudden, Mecannylass both astounded and surprised me with the assertiveness of her parting shot. … She was patently `tired and emotional` (drunk), obviously playing her cards trying to avoid `going upstairs to discuss Uganda` (a family euphemism for you know what !) “I would be grateful if you would pre-inform me what your attitude would be were you to learn that my reply will be…. F**k Off” she blurted.
You what ?
I didn`t know what the hell she was on about … pride prevented me from exposing a level of ignorance she would obviously revel in.
Once the Tigress was tucked up in her 20 tog duvet I have to admit that I couldn`t resist a furtive search of my good friend Google before I too adjourned !
I think that Mecannylass had taken to cleverly trying to imitate the bullish; rather antagonist style of Private Eye (the magazine)
I never knew Mecannylass had such coarse and negative assertiveness in her … and certainly I never realised in my wildest dreams how much of an Ian Hislop devotee she was!
Take it from me. It`ll be a long time before Mecannylass ever gets me `upstairs to discuss Uganda` with that attitude.
Isn`t it funny how the passing of time changes your perception of something ? Driving, for example, has turned out to be a triumph of disappointment over expectation. When Mecannylad was an impressionable teenager, all those years ago, I thought motoring for motoring`s sake would be wonderful, the ultimate freedom ….. and all it has turned out to be is the biggest pain in the arse you can possibly imagine.
Don`t waste your breath eulogising about your latest Quattro or M Series when you are in my company .... It goes straight over my head. Mecannylad simply cannot understand why you badge slave `petrol heads` become giddy over a car nowadays !!
As I said ….it`s simply all about `the destination` for me .