I don’t blame me! By Trevor Plumbly

Remember this 1970s pop lyric? Dad’s gone down the dog track, Muvver’s playing bingo, Granny’s boozing in the parlour, You oughta see the gin go. No-one seems to notice me, isn’t it a sin, What a crazy world we’re living in. My circumstances were such that I didn’t suffer from any of that sort of family indifference as a child. Okay, the lyrics are sort of funny, but for a hell of a lot of kids it was a reality. Back then kids were left to their own devices to an extent… Read More

O holy night by Trevor Plumbly

The dream Wrong time of the year I know, but at my age I’ll take memories whenever I can get them. Contrary to the portrayal of joy and goodwill, our school class production of the nativity play provoked a long standing feud more suited to Shakespeare than the New Testament. Miss Folster was largely to blame; she was Casting, Script, and Musician. Emotionally ice-bound from the toes up and, as required of lady teachers of the time, totally devoid of any feminine properties that might have distracted a young mind. She had… Read More

Puberty revisited by Trevor Plumbly and Susan Grimsdell

Once again, Trevor has taken it into his head that we should have a joint blog, each of us writing our own take on a common subject. This time he has chosen the topic of puberty. Devoted readers will be aware that Trevor often returns to this topic and we can only guess at why this stage in his development looms so large. First flickers by Trevor These days it’s an easy trip: you can blame anything short of climate change on puberty and get away with a sympathetic nod. In my… Read More

Courtesy calls by Trevor Plumbly

Cellulitis? As befits an old geezer, I’ve stuck to the landline telephone. There are reasons for hanging on to this ancient means of communication: I’m a fully paid up ‘blindy’, so grubbing round for a trilling bit of plastic half the size of a fag packet held little joy for me. Unlike the mobile, the landline is a single entity, it has a dignified ring as opposed to a semi-musical demand for attention, it does all it’s required to do without torturing me with ‘additional features’, it has a tactile reliable feel… Read More

The Wimp’s progress by Trevor Plumbly

Systematic selection As technology continues to herd us into a convenient mass to maintain its influence, let’s spare a thought for the poor sods struggling to survive under the thumb of the ‘wimps’. These previously insignificant little buggers now rule cyberspace. Such folk were once the dross of the school system; in those days  ‘average’ set the standard for academic achievement, above or below that attracted unhealthy attention. Thus the more active thugs were labelled ‘misfits’ and those unable to fit in either slot were deemed to have a ‘nervous disposition’ i.e…. Read More