October 2012


Did the long commute today, later than I can remember ever doing it. It was the cheapest fare for the day by a long spend, and I got a fair bit of work done before leaving (see last two blogs) but the journey from Leeds onwards was numb, even with the train to Three Bridges stopping and going dark due to the line’s power being cut off.

I called into The Grove on my way; where I prompted a discussion about Plastercine, and where it was invented. I the early stages I had my urine taken on account of the way I pronounced Plastercine in a soft southern way; but that was as nothing to when I found out, and announced, that it was invented in Bath. It’s either Plas’ercin invinted in Ba’ht, or Plasterseen invented in Baarth: you can’t hav Plasterseen invinted in Baath.

Doughnut, the Grove’s west highland terrier, is still alive (my mother is as old as he is, in human years) and seemed to enjoy the good scratch and Good dog!s I gave him when he shuffled out.

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English: St. Blaise confronting the Roman governor: Scene from the life of St. Blaise, bishop of Sebaste (Armenia), martyr under the Roman emperor Licinius (4th century). Stained glass window from the area of Soissons (Picardy, France), early 13th century.


I am going to try and revive the celebration of Bradford’s Patron Saint: Bishop Blaise (the picture is from the wiki page).

Bradford used to celebrate the feast day of St. Blaise every 7 years on the 3rd Feb.

He was a Bishop reputedly martyred by having his skin ripped off with wool combs, which made him the patron saint of woolcombers, who were the aristocracy of labour in the wool trade. Wool had to be combed before anything could be done with it, and woolcombing was a job for skilled hands longer than almost every other part of the trade.

In the 18th and 19th Centuries Bradford became a wold power in wool, and long stayed the centre of the worsted (or long wool) trade. In their best time woolcombers worked at home and being a rare skill could work when they liked. Their patron saint become Bradford’s, and the day was a day for the whole town.

Even before Bradford had a council the kinds of people who became Bradford Council stopped the festival and never replaced it. 1825 was the biggest ever Bishop Blaise Day in Bradford, but seems to have been the last ever. Woolcombing had become desperate work, machines replaced men and people became mill fodder. The people who controlled Bradford decided the people of Bradford should have no cause for celebration, and St Blaise’s day was choked to death.

I am planning to try an revive the day. The first week of February could do with something to cheer it up, as could Bradford. Next year’s day is a Sunday. I already have a possible show and two businesses already up for doing something. If anyone else is wants to help, or even better do, then get in contact.

From: The Costume of Yorkshire, George Walker, first published 1814. If this picture was in the first edition the year of this celebration was probably 1811.

Bradford Playhouse has opened under new management. I went down to meet the couple that are, or represent, the new company. I like them, and offered a Priestley show, which, subject to negotiation, may well happen. My Pie & Priestley was the last theatrical show ever (perhaps the last of any kind) at the ‘old’ Playhouse.

Ma was taken to hospital late Friday, and discharged the next morning; although she did not arrive home until 17.00. The diagnosis was exhaustion due to mild pneumonia, diarrhoea due to reaction to the antibiotics, and the very long but vital trip to Horsham Hospital for confirmation and testing of the just diagnosed glaucoma.

I taught myself breeze block carving and brick laying while filling the man sized hole in the party wall in Bev’s loft. I have almost filled the neighbours half of the double wall, and a right bodge it is, but have learned enough to probably do a fair job on Bev’s side.

A Yule Love Pie Show© seems likely for the second week in December (probably Thursday) but cannot be confirmed for a week. This will be a new show, with pie, pictures and laughs. I am growing a beard especially for the occassion.

After leaving BBC Radio 2 I found a soul/funk show on BBC Radio 6 which is really good. I only know the presenter from things what some of the people who had letters published in VIZ many years ago claimed to have done to him or his car (which I now remember was a Porsche).

Having written that I have to warn you that I can only remember names as well as Tony Blair can remember what he was told about destroying our economy and the lives of British soldiers, before he took us into a war for the sake of sucking up to a US President as corrupt as he is.

There may be a little alcohol helping me with what I am writing.

I hate news. I do not watch, read or listen to it. Nothing the news will tell me will help me live my life better, or help me be happier. I like Radio 3, partly because I like classical music, partly because I am a brainy sod; but mostly because it has less news than any other BBC station. I do not mind Radio 4 because it takes news seriously (and it’s news is not on every bleeding hour). I thought Radio 2 was the worse national station for news (badly written, morally outraged, re-written every ruddy hour as though it’s new every hour) but I have now found that Radio 6 MUSIC is the shitest news service of all. At least Radio 2 news sounds like the people doing it might know what they are woffling about.

Tonight I mailed BBC Radio 2’s Liza Tarbuck Show. I was only listening because someone was filling for Liza Tarbuck (who is a truly dreadful radio presenter; she makes things up as she goes along and is crap at doing so, then she gets snotty with the people who do respond). So I was looking forward to a Liza Tarbuck free few hours, unfortunately the bloke who was filling in started with an abysmal ‘really modern’ re-mixed/threaded/covered/warmed-over version of a ‘modern-to-me’ record that was shite to begin with when it came out a few years ago. I know that Radio 2 is really Radio 1 without the offensive fat bloke from Leeds; but their target audience will never be 20. Us old people outnumber them young buggers, so while nobody listens to Radio 1, playing any old youth crap on Radio 2 will result in lowering the percentage share (ie me) with no gain in youth, because the only youths listening will be wanting mature music; BECAUSE MATURE MUSIC IS WHAT RADIO 2 IS FOR YOU DRUG ADDLED; PORSCHE DRIVING; COMMITTEE PLEASING; TAX EATING; RADIO MANAGERS.

The thing is that I have had an attractive woman talk to me in a pub, and then phone me up; but I did give them a card (Christmas in that case) with my phone number on. Harder for someone to phone me if I have not given them my number.

I spent 16 out of a 24 hours in bed since the last post; which even for a man as lazy as me suggests all is not well, or rather that I am not at all well.

I did have paid work, albeit paid when I have finished. That could have been today, now it will be in the near-ish future.

I did get to the dentist, where I demanded the removal of a wisdom tooth. It will be taken out, but in a few weeks. I also have a filling to be redone because the present one has ‘settled’!? How does a filling settle? It is not made out of peat or mud.

The Christmas Pie show cannot happen in Lewes, Sussex, but may well be happening in Bradford instead.

Bought two ox tongues at John Kearns in Shipley. Just finished boiling one and pulling the skin off. £2.80 for more than a kilo of meat! And tongue is some of the best tasting meat I know.

Attractive Anita was not present at the Sparrow, but as I was carrying cards, by pure chance, I did give one to various folk, including a lass from the Daily Mail who was interviewing Paul at the Castle about his parent’s 87th wedding anniversary (As seen on the One Show).

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