The BEST April Fool Joke - EVER.

April 1^st ----- April Fools Day.

Dear Blog,

       So it is April the first and along come all the tiresome April Fool jokes. Most are childish but it would be churlish of me to not acknowledge that it is good fun for the children. There have been notable exceptions to my sweeping statement suggesting that most practical jokes are rather mundane; the original Richard Dimnplebee Spaggettii spoof on the BBC and today’s announcement made by the North Yorkshire Preservation Railway Society about placing bar codes on the sides of their engines to aid train spotters to which Pete Waterman played along admirably, was amusing. But surely the BEST EVER was today’s other prank. Absolutely BRILLIANT with a very large capital ‘B’.

       To be entirely convincing, an April Fool’s prank has to sound reasonable and if a high profile personality or organisation can be persuaded to play along, many many people will be fooled. And of course, that is why this year’s April Fool has been THE best yet. Indeed I doubt whether it will ever be surpassed. The buildup has lasted for weeks and that is why no one caught on. A very clever tactic that. Well thought through. The BBC played along and surprisingly every national and local newspaper was in on the wheeze, broadsheets and tabloids acting as one. And what really made the event so successful was the fact that that nice Mr. Cameroon and also his chum Ian lead the deception.

          Today, April Fool’s Day carried the announcement that a new Benefit System would be introduced. What a wheeze. And not only that but there would be wide spread changes to the National Health Service with massive budget cuts. Clever using a double whammy, like that! Then I thought that that nice Mr Cameroon had blown it when he said there would be a bedroom tax. I thought that was a bit on the silly side, OTT. Especially when he said it was only for those in social housing. I thought taking the micky out of the most vunerable in society was not quite what you would expect from a reasonable politician; not what April Fooling is all about. Some people were genuinely upset. They had obviously not realised it was April the first, All Fool’s Day. I do think that was taking the practical joke too far. The bedroom tax thing was such a ridiculous notion anyway.  For the politician to say they would cap benefits and bring in a universal tax credit is a bit heavy. They should have kept the wheeze a bit more lighthearted. That is why I was so surprised that Mr. Moribund and Cleggie went along with Mr. Cameroon and Mr. Duncan’s ruse. Still, I have to admit it was all good fun in the end and it will cement Mr. Cameroon’s place in political history as the only Prime Minister who had the courage to fool the whole nation even it was for only a single morning. So it’s well done to David and Ian for giving us all a good giggle on this April Fool’s day.

                             Colin

Massey Furguson 5 mile Road Race result, March 31st 2013

Photograph Quiz.

Photo no. 141:- In this photo of a 20 mile walk team, why is the man on the right so vitally important to my ‘History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Clubs in the City’? What was his name? What was the event? What was the result for club members?

Dear Blog,

   I have just returned from the Massey Ferguson 5 mile road race held around the pathways of Coventry’s War Memorial Park; a race promoted in the old fashioned manner of you pays your entry fee, you race in the well marshaled race and you get the results. No fanfares, no bunting or airs about being the Midlands answer to some highly sponsored, highly promoted, highly reported, highly priced-entry type race organised by some commercial outfit for the benefit of some commercial outfit screaming that mega quids have been raised for charity, giving the impression that some commercial outfit organising the race had raised the said mega quids when in reality, the commercial outfit had buggerall to do with raising funds as part of the race organisation; it was the sucker runners in the race who had done the fund raising. So this morning’s event was a genuine low key club race organised for the actual benefit of the club runner and jogger. [Although they did give a t-shirt and goody bag ….]. Don’t you think that is a horrible word Blog. ‘Goody Bag’. Makes the hairs on the back of my neck hackle in protest … like ‘bogof’ and ‘for free’. The point I am desperately struggling to make Blog, is that something genuine happened this morning in our sport which is to be commended as our sport has now turned into ‘a grabbit happening’, as they say in posh circles; or so I am told but as I don’t go around in posh circles, I do not know if they say that or they do not say that.

     It was a bit chilly out there this morning, froze the nose drippings, it did. My younger daughter ran home after the race and the presentation. I have told you before Blog but  ….  This reminded me of a time when I was at the Pink Panther University and I was persuaded to jog over to a local 10 mile road race which was about 5 miles away as it would be good preparation for my debut marathon race. The idea sounded good. So two of us jogged over and raced. I came second to Jimmy Alder. Now jogging to a race is all well and good. Racing hard in the race to which you have jogged is all well and good. BUT. In those days of yore, a long, long time ago, for prizes you didn’t get vouchers for a measly amount as a small part payment for a pair of shoes at the local sports shop. No you got prizes. Real expensive prizes. Pot hunting worth prizes. And so it came to pass in those days of yore, a long, long time ago that I won a canteen of cutlery. A heavy canteen of cutlery. A canteen of cutlery that had knives, forks and spoons for courses of food I had never heard of!! When it was suggested that I jog over to this local 10 mile road race which was about 5 miles away as it would be good preparation for my debut marathon race, the idea did sound good. Too good to be true in fact. But I never remember any mention of the 5 miles BACK. Nor was there any mention of incorporating a weights session on the way back either! FACT:- I don’t know whether you know Blog, but it was once the fashion to carry a weight in both hands as you trained. True. Would I lie to you Blog? I remember a few of the old runners when I started running actually carrying a small weight in the palm of each hand. What they did not do however, was carry a bloody heavy canteen of cutlery full of some many knives and forks and spoons that  would be an ample supply for the next London Lord Mayors Banquet and still have enough left over for my fish and chip supper. Sorry Blog, I now do lie to you. Soz. Of course we don’t use a knife and fork when we have fish and chips. Never have. Never will. No way! It is a finger job … which is spoiled in this day and age by the lack of a newspaper wrapping to keep said fish and chips warm. I think I told you Blog, that I once had my fish and chips wrapped in a sheet of newspaper on which was printed my photograph. I was most upset. I went back to the shop and had it out with the people behind the counter. Did they not have respect for the achievements and exploits of one of Coventry’s more famous sportsmen? The chippie ask me who I thought I was? I thought he was trying to imply that I was being rude and that I was acting above my station in life, but he was genuinely asking me who I thought I was as he had never heard of me. Can you believe that Blog. I asked him if he ever read his newspapers before he used them for wrapping paper? He said that if he had time, he would sometimes look at the obituaries column to check if he had died. Comedian, I don’t think so. Who did he think I was? Stupid or somrething? No one looks at the obituaries column to see if they had died because they would be dead, of course. Silly man. I took my fishy custom elsewhere after that I can tell. Who did I think I was indeed? Any way, back to this story about the blessed canteen of cutlery. I had to carry it back single handed. I don’t mean carried it back by myself as my fellow competitor was returning the jog back to the Pink Panther University with me because he worked there. I meant, I had to carry it back for 5 miles by myself because he refused to take turns. Between you and me Blog, I reckon he refused to help me because he was jealous of my success. He was envious of the fact that I had won the heavy canteen of cutlery stuffed full of knives and forks and spoons and he had won nothing.

     Even back then in the days of yore a long, long time ago, I used to recover from races by the next day, or two days maximum. But it took me a whole week to recover from this race. I could hardly take notes in lectures because my arm hurt so much from carrying that heavy canteen of cutlery with its knives for this and its forks for that and the spoons for others and other others for others that I didn’t know about ………….. and here’s the best bit Blog. I still have that heavy canteen of cutlery in my loft, unopened but covered in long since dried sweat which, over the intervening years, has grown some remarkedly different strains of bacteria. Would I lie to you Blog?  And guess what Blog, even more strange … last year the bright spark who suggested we jog to the 10 mile road race but forgot to tell me about the 5 mile jog back was given an Honoury Doctorate by Warwick University for his work on polymers. And do you know what Blog? He did not invite me to his investiture! Can you believe that? I reckon he still holds a grudge, don’t you Blog????

    And now a question for you Blog. Did not that improve in the telling, or did not that improve in the retelling??

                               Colin

Black September revisited.

Come on now Blog. Joking?? You don’t understand my last letter to you and you want further comments from me. O.K. assuming you are not taking the proverbial mick, I’ll elucidate!! As you well know Blog, if you set out to take the mick and someone comes back with a reposte, have you successfully taken the micky or is it a double bluff and it is you who is the butt. And if it is a double bluff, how do you know? So do you go along with it and then who knows whether you are bluffing or taking the b luff seriously or ….. Stone me Blog this is getting a bit heavy, with a capital ‘H’.

The “Black September” garden sculpture was SERIOUS with a capital ‘S’.

It was meant as a genuine tribute in a small way, to the eleven Israeli athletes massacred at the 1972 Olympic Games in Munich.

It was meant as a genuine tribute to the two brave U.S.A. athletes at the Mexico Olympic Games who had the courage to sacrifice the whole of their future lives to protest at treatment of blacks in America.

It was meant as a dig against the hypocrisy of the Olympic movement, the removal of the colours in the rings and the corruption of the circles, reflecting the insincerity which seems to pervade each Games.

The use of vandalised tyres were meant to be a reminder of the necklacing of the past.

So Blog, there you have it. Off you go for a trudge and reflect on what you have just read.

                    Colin

Spring into Spring

Another of my Garden Sculptures Blog. The Estate Sculpture Park is threatening to be a big hit with the general public over the Easter Holiday period, Blog; a ‘must visit attraction’. Why don’t you bring all the little Bloggies to a viewing. Inspire them it will. (Tickets at the Gate Lodge, reduction for family groups and O.A.P.s.)

Entitled “SPRING”

 

Dear Blog,

          With all the media bombarding us from all sides with stories of woe about the weather conditions during the last couple of weeks, as I crunched along on my trudge in the few remnants of snow here there and everywhere, I thought about the cold races in the past …in half a century of training once, twice, nay sometimes three times a day, nothing compares to this March weather. Yes in my first marathon in 1966, there was a certain amount of snow still in the sheltered hedge rows and a few flurries during the race itself, but nothing to worry my long sleeved vest and gloves too much. It was my first marathon. It was cold. So what was the problem??? No big deal for the media. Coincidentally, it will be the forty seventh (47) anniversary of my debut on Easter Monday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

         Pop back to February and the snow and cold were nothing much to remark about. February and snow and ice goes with the territory. My first Northern Cross Country Championships running for my club, Bingley Harriers, at Witton Park Blackburn, took place in the Big Freeze of 1963. My race, the youths, was the first event in the programme. Remember in those days, it was Youths, Juniors and Seniors; none of this under 16s this, and under 15s that or under 12s the other business. No faffing with Mickey Mouse races!!  And women were a definite no no!! They were still tied to the kitchen sink boiling hot water for the tin bath in front of the coal fire when men like me got back from the races. We had a tin bath in front of the coal fire, did you Blog. Honest. I kid you not. The start of the Youths race was at the bottom of the park, on the other side of the wall from the main road. In the two day respite from the sub-zero temperatures a week before, snow melt had formed a gigantic lake in the depression in the ground over which we were to run after about 400 yards (382 metres to you Blog) from the start. Because the let up in the Big Freeze was brief, the water had not had time to drain away, the ground never thawing out enough to allow water to percolate into the subsoil. So a huge frozen lake, inches (centimetres to you Blog) thick with a thick ice cap had formed to be covered in the first initial rush at the start of the Championship race. Although there was no Health and Safety shenanigans in those days, the organisers had taken the precaution of testing the ice for the safety of the Youths. Workmen had spent time, much to the amusement of those runners warming up for their event, trying to smash through the thick ice with sledge hammers and pick axes. The ice held firm showing no signs of nyielding to the brute force of the workmen. The lake must have been about 300 yards (394 metres to you Blog) across. The gun fired, the youths race started and we rushed towards the erstwhile lake. First came the an ominous groan, then a growl. The weight of 300 seventeen year old males is considerable. The entire field was soon spread across the entire length of the ice covered lake. The creek, then loud crack, much louder than the starters pistol, was audible to all, spectators and runners alike. The ice surrendered. The surface shattered and everyone was thrown into the icy cold waters, battered by the sharp huge chunks of ice swirling and churned around by the runners. It was not pleasant. But no one complained. And no one complained when the second lap took us through the ice berg strewn lake again…. Boy, that WAS chilly!! But it was my first year of running. So what was the problem??? The media were not too concerned.

        The Midland Cross Country Championships at Trentham Park in 1968 was cold and snow packed. But it was winter. But it was cross country. So what was the problem??? The media didn’t give a tinkers.

       Now the first flake is headlines. Two flakes we shut the schools. Three flakes cause motorway blockages and four results in a national crisis of Churchillian proportions. And with all these memories vying for space in my cranium while trudging along dreaming, over I went. Never like that in the old days when it was really snowy and icy.

       So Good Friday was not too Good a Friday Blog.

                                                       Colin

An expensive trip!

Dear Bloggie,

                     Our sport has become an expensive pass time. Gone are the days when a pair of pumps, a used pullover and some old rugby shorts would do for a trudge here, there and everywhere, and even an occasional race. Now you have to look like a cat walk model with the de rigor gear before you dare venture out of the changing rooms. The price of shoes, racing and training, continues to spiral. I don’t lycra the increase in the price of clothing either. But it’s the expense of training that really grates me. Take for example; last Thursday I wrote to you telling that I had trudged home from the track training night for my session. And I had taken yet another tumble on the way. And the cost … ? I also informed you that I had damaged the plate which houses my false teeth. And the cost …? I had my teeth in my glove as I hit the ground running. And, although not biting myself as has happened in the past, I did manage to dent cum twist the plate as I hit the ground running.  And the cost … ? At home after showering, I tried to eat but the pain in my mouth from my remodeled plate made it impossible. The removal of a shard of metal from the plate which was sticking in my gums helped a little but the damage was done – to my gums! They just wouldn’t fit in my mouth without intense pain. Mouthwatering pain with a capital ‘P’. Over the weekend, repeated attempts to eat with my plate in place proved fruitless even though it was softer and easier to eat than steak! My gums were cut too badly and my food had to be cut, sadly so I could avoid starvation. So it was to the dentist I went. Very nice of the receptionist to fit me in at thirty minutes’ notice. Up the stairs I went and explained to the dentist man that I had had a hand in the plate bending. He looks and he sees and saws the plate down. Eight seconds maximum it took him to grind my plate down. It fit like a glove when it was fitted back into my mouth, just like the one I was wearing when I took a tumble and damaged the plate. Ironic? Walking back down the stairs to the receptionist, I thought that I should have given him a couple of quids for a drink for performing such a satisfactory job so very quickly. I gave the receptionist my signed form still procrastinating as to whether I should tip £2 or £2.50, but as that nice Mr. Cameroon’s friend, Ossie Osborn has just reduced the duty on beer, I had virtually decided on a £2 tip when the receptionist asked me for £17:50 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Stone me, I was thinking of treating the dentist to a drink not booking a bloody three course meal for him and his missus (plus wine). And then the trouble started. I don’t do money. Never had. Never. No need. As a kid I never had any. As a University student at the Pink Panther University, all my fees etc. were paid by the Local Education Authority. And when I started to work, along came the future Mrs. Kirkham who took charge of the family finances, even before she was family. Never needed quids.

           Luckily I had my credit card with me. Not that I have ever used it. My wife got two from our bank and she kindly gave me one. Don’t know why!! I only happened to have it with me today because I keep it in the same pouch as my O.A.P. bus pass. I gave the receptionist the card (credit not B.P.) and she messed about a bit behind the desk and gave me a machine with my card still attached. I thought it was stuck fast and she was unable to release it. So I gave it a tug and it came out easi peasy. No problem there then. As I was putting the card back in my pouch she told me that she wanted my pin. My pin??? Yes my pin number. Sorry missus, I don’t have a clue about my pin number, I have never used it. Blog, I would not lie to you. I have never seen a soap on the television set. Blog, would I lie to you? I have never made a withdrawal of money from one of those holes in the wall things. Blog, would I lie to you? I have never eaten in a McDonalds. Blog, would I lie to you? So I would not lie about my usage of my credit card, would I Blog? Sorry Missus, no can do. ‘Have you any cash to pay with???’ She does not really believe me when I tell her I do not carry money around the country with me. I don’t do money. Never had. Never. No need. As a kid I never had any. As a University student at the Pink Panther University all my fees etc. were paid by the Local Education Authority. And when I started to work, along came the future Mrs. Kirkham who took charge of the family finances before we were a family. Never needed any quids. And now I cannot contact my dear wife because she does not keep her mobile phone switched on. Never. Never has. No need. And even if she had her mobile switched on, which she wouldn’t have, it would be of no use because I don’t know how to use a mobile phone. If I said that I gave up such modern paraphernalia with the four pennies in the slot and press button A, Blog, I would not be lying to you. So it was a standoff. The “O.K. Corral” all over again. She wanted the money and I didn’t have any money. Simple. Who would be the one to leave Tombstone standing? Me or the receptionist? The other lady behind the desk could see things were turning nasty. She grabbed the machine which had nearly eaten my credit card, pressed a few buttons, and then asked me to sign several yards (metres to you Blog) of paper which came spewing from the machine. ‘It is like when we take your credit card number over the phone’ she explained to me as if I were a child not understanding what was going on. I explained to her as if she were a child that she wouldn’t be taking my credit card number over the phone because I don’t use a credit card over, under or without a phone. I rarely use a phone and never a mobile phone. Never. No need. She smiled. Bless. I did not bother to explain to her that the dentist had spent eight seconds rectifying my plate problem and I had been charged an arm and a leg. If the dentist happened to work the same hours as the average British work man, every week for a year allowing for two weeks unpaid holiday with his family to visit Blackpool like the plebs tend to do, he would have a salary of £800,496.50 per annum (‘each year’ to you Blog. ‘Per annum’ is your actual Latin. I had to do Latin at my Northern Grammar School instead of woodwork which I preferred; but the staff at the said grammar school put me in the top set and it was only the plebs, as in plebeians, that did the woodwork and chiseling and stuff ‘cos it was essential that in later life they would earn many more quids than I did teaching their sprogs, while they ripped me off building my new kitchen. You can’t amas a fortune teaching but amo spent building a kitchen can amount many quids )

So Thursday’s 6 mile (9.5 kilometres to you Blog) trudge cost me nearly twenty quids!!! A taxi would have been cheaper?

                                         Colin

P.S. In the past, I have given you some hot tips from my friends in high places before the press and the general public has been informed. So, hows about this then Blog? Keep it under your hat but remember where you first heard it ….. in the next edition of Burke’s Peerage validation has been established that Michael Ibsen, the Canadian living in London who provided the D.N.A. which was used to confirm the identity of King Richard 111, is really the true heir to the English throne, the direct descendant!!! So it’s King Michael and none of you Queen Katie nonsense stuff after all. A court case to establish King Michael’s claim is scheduled for the High Court next January. Would I lie to you Blog? Apparently, there is consternation in Buckingham Palace. Her son believes the former Queen Elizabeth has made a right Charlie out of him. Meanwhile, the former Prince Phillip was reported to be going back to Greece until he heard about their debt crisis. He has decided to move his personal wealth to Cyprus instead. And the corgi’s are reported to be off their old chum. Ibsen, Henrik not Michael, could not conceive of such a plot for one of his plays!!!!

P.P.S. Did I ever tell you about the sculptures scattered over my estate Blog? Thought you might be interested. The yoiks in the village are. Come up and gorpe at them quite often, they do. Here’s one of my favourites entitled “Black September”. Enjoy!

Midland Road Relays at Sutton Park, Birmingham Saturday March 23rd. RESULTS

So what did you do with your spare Saturday Blog? We all could have missed that relay race at Sutton Park at the weekend ….. the snow at Sutton Park was quite deep and the roads in places were totally impassable,  especially at the top of the course which is used by the spectators to run back and forth to view the runners twice on each of their legs. Of course, because there were no runners no spectators bothered to turn up so not a single spectator was trudging back and forth supporting none of their runners during the whole afternoon. Mind you there was little to see besides the snow tumbling down, not even the kids bothered to venture out to sledge! In September and October of last year, the Midland and the National men’s six stage and the women’s four stage didn’t take place at Sutton Park because of the e-collie outbreak amongst the wandering cows of the park, and now the twelve stage hits the snow dust. If this is taken up internationally, we could have the Olympics in 2016 not being stage in any country but Brazil. Or the Olympics not being staged anywhere in the world every three years out of four. Mind you Blog, conditions in Sutton Park, Birmingham were so white over on Saturday, that the Winter Olympics could have been held a year early.

For the Women’s Midland Road Relay however, scheduled for Saturday March 23^rd 2013, not single team turned out on time. It would have been quite impolite to all those aged officials who preferred to stop at home rather than risk hypothermia in the bitterly cold wind, if those runners who didn’t arrive hadn’t been so ungrateful.

 Godiva’s first runner might have been quickly away into the lead had she not slipped into oblivion on the first snow drift and ruined what could have been a close first leg if there had been any runners and she had not started without anyone else to run against. If she had bothered to turn out, she would have had it all her own way. Cool. Taking over for the second relay, Godiva’s young orienteer didn’t fill in at the last minute because our first choice on this leg, like the other six had heard on the local radio the night before that the event had been cancelled and decided to stay in bed. What are the coaches doing to encourage such attitudes? In my day, we would have all turned up and frozen to death without a single murmur of complaint. And we would have not been wearing gloves, nor t-shirts, nor leggings like the wimps do these days. We were men, with a capital ‘M’.

The third leg runner for our team would have blown the field apart because she is so fit. And she is quite a capable runner too. As it was, only the snow and wind were doing the blowing. Working together as a team, they had made the unrunable path by Keepers’ Pool unrunable; so it was extremely fortunate that none of the runners who didn’t turn up, didn’t have to run across that section of the course.

The fourth relay runner didn’t start very fast. Indeed, like all the rest of the team, she didn’t start at all. But in her case it was unforgivable because she only decided not to run at the last minute when she texted the team manager to say that she could not get out of her house because the snow had drifted so deep in her driveway. And she had done the local Park Run that morning.

So with no one else there, the fifth leg athlete might have had it all to do herself. None of the officials who had stayed at home were concerned at the lack of a competitive field and would have encouraged her to the day’s fastest time had they, or even her, been there. But they weren’t and she wasn’t so they didn’t and she wasn’t.

It is stating the obvious Blog, that the runner on our final leg would have really found the last uphill section to the finish difficult. The snow was so deep and underneath the white blanket, the road surface was very slippy indeed. In a tight finish, slipping and sliding would probably have caused adductor, not to mention abductor, problems the next day with the muscles being so stiff from not being used to racing in those conditions.

I think the organisers at the Midland Counties Office have decided to put the event on ice for a while until things have cooled down. Then in the summer they hope that the club runners will take a more responsible attitude to competition and  someone might turn up to relay around around.

                              Colin (writing from an igloo somewhere in Sutton Park, Birmingham)

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 143.2:- This is not the Midland Road Relay at Sutton Park on Saturday March 23rd 2013. BUT who is the chappie on the left playing Greta Garbo? 

Compensation for Blog.

CANCELLED

The Midland 12 stage Road Relay has hit the dust.

So to help cheer you up Blog after that massive disappointment…..

Another poem by Colin in the style of the minimalist Geeko School, popular in the surfing regions of Hann Oracs.

'Train

Strain

Pain

Job done.

Race

Pace

Place

Well done.'

'But if there is snow

It just goes to show

The race is no go.

That is a blow!'

Bet you can hardly wait for another cancelled race Blog?