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More Balls Than Most.

More Balls Than Most. Dear Friends – The other week, we reminded you of our positive approach to mental illness. This week we can lighten the mood on the same subject. There is no doubt that relaxation, in what ever form it can take, is beneficial. But not always easy to obtain for the person…


We Won the Cup!

We Won the Cup! It wasn’t the FA Cup. It was better than that! It wasn’t the final of the Europa league. It was better than that! It wasn’t even the final of the Champions League. It was even better than that! Why? Because long after those big cup finals are consigned to history and…


Routemaster.

Routemaster…. an Ode to a Bus. The Bus of the Future. Back in 1957, Bobby finally grew up and became a plane spotter. (He still is… nerd!). Forsaking the dirt and smoky grime of steam trains for the shiny glamour of aircraft. Shortly before, he had also left behind his bus spotting days. Just two…


Over the Hills and Far Away.

Over the Hills and Far Away. Diddley hated violence of any kind. She would never watch a nasty film or TV programme even potentially violent. Emmerdale was her limit! So how come she watched every episode of “Sharpe”? A series of true violence, based on the Napoleonic wars. Each week awash with death and destruction…


A Night for Lonnie Donegan.

A Night for Lonnie Donegan (And Cheers Chas). Ask anyone of a certain age what they remember about Lonnie Donegan and they might well answer… “My Old Man’s a Dustman”.


The Operation.

“Hello there! Top o’ the morning, even if it’s the feckin afternoon. Eamonn here. Bertie has asked me to write this story as it’s far too painful for him. The story of his Operation. Oy was tere and saw the whole thing. Its a tale of DISMEMBERMENT. Of DISEMBOWELMENT. Without anaesthetic. And not for the…


100th Blog – The Footbridge.

100th Blog … Pt II: The Footbridge. Dear Friends of Bertie… This is momentous occasion. One that must start with a brief introduction from Bobby. (I said brief, Bobby…!) Dear Friends I am writing this in a bus shelter in Westcott in Surrey. Very nice. Thatched. My car is being serviced. And then it’s the…


Cuckoo.

Cuckoo.  “Cuckoo, cuck-ooh, cuck-oooh…” Was Bobby half asleep? Maybe he was a little “cuckoo” himself! The days of waiting for the first “cuc … koo”, to confirm that summer really was here, seemed a distant memory. Hearing that evocative, unmistakable call again would be wonderful. Especially from his cosy bed at Laurel Cottage. The…


Trevor and Henry.

Trevor and Henry. Bobby: “Watcha mate. You’ve cheered up me old cock sparrow!” Trevor: “Whatever gave you that idea, you idiot! I can hardly breathe with this contraption on.” Bobby: “Look here. Your problem was saggy bits due to your filling. We could have paid to have you filled up, but Fliss reckons you are…


Sir Cliff Richard.

In Praise of Sir Cliff Richard. Diddley did not like Sir Cliff Richard. His squeaky clean image did not suit a sixties art student heavily into Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Neil Young and the rest. Over the years, she introduced Bobby to all her music. He grew to love artists he had never even heard…


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