October 2012


The first donar kebab house in Bradford (even in Yorkshire) was The Oasis. It opened in 1979, the year I came here, and I certainly went in for a kebab in my first year (probably after being thrown out of my first house because I argued about Albania with the German woman who then shagged the thick bloke from Stevenage; so that was after at least 2 weeks).

The Oasis is still the best donar in Bradford by a spicy, and fresh salad covered, mile. I was going to the lavatory in the Wetherspoons, but some inner urge made walk out of the door and to the Oasis. If I was a Catholic I would see it as the working of an Angel on guard. It is certainly much better for me to be drinking cheapest alcohol in my own house than less cheap alcohol in Wetherspoons; and I am now internally carrying all the things needed to ward off a hangover, which is what any kebab does, and a good kebab does better than anything.

Had plenty beer with Joe and friends. Joe took pictures of the exhibition at Sparrow Bier Cafe (coming down Sunday; catch it now! Especially Anita who talked to me in a rush, if you want any advice about working in a Jobcentre Anita I can give you some worth more than a year’s pension scheme, the useless numbnuts ‘training’ you will know nowt and care less, I have been a client and lived with a lass working in a tax office, you will have less rights than the people lying to your face, and less management support than you would get if you were stealing lead off a church roof).

Tonight’s journey also called in at Monty’s, The Castle, and The Golden Goose.

Bless Joe Ogden. He just phoned to check where I was, on account of the fact he, Edmond and Allan could not find me in the lavatory. Bad Glyn. I should have textered him before now, if I had rmembered that I said I was going to the lavatory but went to the Oasis, which I didn’t.

I love alcohol. It has been on Earth for a quarter of a billion years, which is almost a quarter of a billion years longer than humans have (I had that read out on Radio 3 once, but wrote it wrong, and was corrected in a throughly educated and entertaining manner, probably on a Sunday morning).

I have just posted the above onFacebook Memories of Crawley page

I have tried to post a blog 3 times in the last 30 minutes and bloody wordpress.com has wiped it without saving a draft every time. I am using someone else’s pc, and this site is free (which is why you see crap adverts at the bottom of my blogs, but the changes they have made to the way wordpress.com works means it is not working.

I have just posted the title on facebook Memories of Crawley http://www.facebook.com/groups/305452676217802/336959089733827

wordpress.com is getting right up my nose aagain. It seems to have stopped posting to facebook and the ‘new’ style page I am writing this on wipes if I leave it without saving a draft, and offers a post link option without an actual button to paste the link. In fact it won’t accept a link to facebook. This is a free blog, so it cannot stop them posting adverts, or threaten to stop paying, but wordpress.com seems to be getting really poor.

I am watching Ray Davies on BBC4. Waterloo Sunset.

Bev’s house is at the end of an unpaved cul-de-sac; or rather it is at the end of a dirt track. At 8.00 this morning Wickes a pallet full of bricks, breeze blocks and loft flooring panels on the main road,  and I discovered it was 50 paces from the pallet to her front steps; a journey I maded 20 times carrying  14kg most trips; with the walk back each time.

 

I am laying the loft panels, and doing some brick laying, and cat feed while Bev is away. I did 4 hours lifting and hammering, and am glad I am not doing 8 hours every day. I could not manage it if it was physical work. Age and diabetes would make that difficult.

 

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Bit of a day out. West Yorkshire bus and train ticket cost me £7.10 ! Which is about 90p (or 16 flecking percent) more than the last time I bought one, about a year ago.

Grand Central train to Mirfield; which was running a full 30 minutes late; but was let out of Bradford Interchange before the Northern Rail service to the same place; so the signalman (whatever their gender) decided the London train had priority over the local, which was thus delayed.

Went to the Navigation at Mirfield. I’ve seen it every time I have gone through the station in daylight, which is why I went there today.

Navigation: I was the youngest customer, and I ain’t no chicken. The beer was well kept, but the choice was 4 Theakston’s, a Caledonian, or the common scrumpy (Rosie something?). I would happily go again, but cannot think of a reason to do so at the minute.

I then walked along the Calder & Hebble Navigation (aka a canal) to Shepley Bridge, where I went in the Ship Inn (on the basis that I should go into any pub I pass, if time and cash allow, on account of it may not be there the next time I pass). It is an eating chain, Hungry Horse, so I did not expect much, but was pleasantly surprised. They only had Greene King IPA, but it was only £1.99; and the barman was from Birmingham and a decent man to talk to. I also recognised a good looking Macam from her accent, which seemed to go down well.

I then had to decide on Dewsbury or Brighouse, but ended up in Huddersfield on account of that was where the bus went. I called in the Sportsman.

Sportsman: Always very good beer, and I had a nice chat to a couple about beer and Yorkshire; but the lad who runs it (or thinks he runs it) really needs to learn not to contradict and correct his customers like he is a snotty English teacher. I was not putting the world to rights or saying anything that could not be broadcast; but there are ways of disagreeing with an opinion without putting middle class, old men’s, backs up. Lets be blunt: male, old, middle class, and opinionated is what CAMRA is. I can moan on this blog and nothing will happen, but the blokes who pick pubs for the Good Beer Guide do have an effect; and it would be stupid to annoy them just for the sake of a little lack of customer, indeed human, understanding.

I was also going to have a pop at First (First to screw, last to serve) Bus; but I think I have managed enough anger for my Anger Management programme for today.

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