Siren songs

When driving locally I'm usually going to Ashton - under - Lyne or Chorlton - cum - Hardy.
YES - I only visit places with triple barrelled names.

On the former trip I pass two major infirmaries and two big police stations plus a police training place of some sort. So I hear lots of get out of my way warning sirens and it's often difficult to know which direction they're coming from. Sometimes there's one coming at you and another coming up behind.


But I've usually managed ..... until I discovered .....

Rock Radio ....

.... where 'The only Pink we play is Floyd! The adverts are for bikers' leathers, the deejays all talk in Capstan Full Strength Manchester accents and the playlist doesn't trouble this century.

It makes me feel dead 'ard.

You can't make a journey without hearing 'Paranoid' or 'Stairway to Heaven'

But it isn't dominated by hard and heavy - as well as 'Bring your daughter to the Slaughter' and 'Orgasmatron' we get Bowie, Bobs Seger and Springsteen, even th'Eagles and plenty of punk.

But yesterday, when I pulled to the side of Alan Turing Way and looked for the police or ambulance it dawned on me that the 'alarm' was coming from Def Leppard.

*I blushed*.

Perhaps I should go back to Steve Wright or Radio Manchester.
KAZ

PICTURE POST

You can have a welcome rest from my pedestrian prose as I post some more retro pics from my collection.
(click to enlarge)

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Yesterday the deejay on local Rock Radio said - 'School holidays eh? I can't think of a better advert for contraception'.

Well he obviously hadn't seen this one.

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The family below obviously doesn't own a television set.

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Cutex must be trying to scare women into buying their lipsticks.

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Do you think this could be the young James Dyson?
Or did he steal his invention from Mr Lewyt?

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And finally the good news is .... 'Super summer dresses for under £1.50.'
But the bad news is - it's an advert for Woolworth.

KAZ

TOPS and BOTTOMS

I saw this absolutely gorgeous photo of Anna and had to write a post around it.
Then she turned up in ‘The Street’ on BBC 1 tonight?

As soon as Anna appeared in Brookside as Beth Jordache I new she was far too classy for a soap.
Brookie (and her friend Corrie) helped me through a bad patch in the nineties.

Here is Beth/Anna in the first lesbian soap kiss.

Don’t worry I’m not thinking of moving to Hebden Bridge. That's where Tony lives - though he spends a lot of time in Rochdale 'cos he’s a big fan of Gracie Fields . Both Anna and Gracie are from Rochdale - (not many famous Rochdalians but Cyril Smith helps make up the numbers).

Gracie Fields set back the image of Lancashire womanhood for decades with her Sallying and Alleying and Trouble at t‘mill. Nevertheless, Anna called her daughter Gracie and a nanny was flown from Lancashire to LA to make sure she kept the accent.

Speaking of Rochdale - I didn’t get round to visiting. I didn’t go to Ramsbottom either or Broadbottom. But Gerald wrote about Broadbottom last week - they’ve been having a scarecrow competition .

I love this one of MJ

But what’s this - surely that’s another MJ - where's the Jamesons ??

Small world - eh?
KAZ

A Blog about Blogging

Apparently this is my 400th post.

I seem to have blogged about almost everything including 'Incest and Morris Dancing' ....but I don't seem to have blogged about blogging.

So here are some crucial questions about blogging

1: Why do we blog? Do we all want to be Charlie Brooker or Lucy Mangan?

2: How on earth do people manage to blog and work for a living?

3: Do you suffer from Blogger depression? You can download this pamphlet to help.


4: How do some brilliant bloggers manage to be witty and entertaining without pictures.

5: Do commenters ever return to read the replies? Statcounter can't tell me as it's always full of Brazilians looking for photos of their footballing hero who plays for Man City - the one with the wag who eats pies.

6: Has the new sophistication of Google Reader taken the spontaneity out of blogging? And why is blogger.com taking so long to load these days.
Is it just me?

7: Will Twittering kill Blogging?

Answers please to -

a.k.a.
KAZ

Alone again

** I'm home alone **

Kev's stayed in Spain to ride his bike, play his guitar and have rampant sex with smouldering señoritas.

You can congratulate me on three weeks of successful cohabitación and be happy for me that I now have some time in my own little place with my own front door. And when Kev gets home he'll have his own front door as well.

I'm just not very good at sharing my space. I did it for 48 years and that was enough.

But I have been very, very good.

When asked how I manage to get through 'a whole jar of marmalade' in two days - I counted to ten and did not retort by substituting the words bottle, wine and 10 minutes.

I have listened with hardly a yawn as Kev practised his rusty, circumlocutory pedagogical skills on me. I refrained from suggesting that If he misses teaching so much he could go back to work.

So now there will be pizza eating, re watching of the History Boys, Christian Bale and (possibly) Withnail and lots of unstructured time and spontaneous outings.

Who knows - I may even have a day out in Oldham, Rochdale or Ramsbottom.
KAZ

Salad days

The French taught me how to love a salad.

When I was growing up in Lancashire everyone hated salad.

The 'RULES of SALAD' had to be observed.

1: Salad must only be served for Sunday tea when aunties with names like Annie and Ethel were involved

2: The ingredients must be kept strictly separated. No minglement of items was permitted.

3: This must be placed in the centre of the table.

Here's how to make an Old Skool salad:

Collect ingredients.



Put on plate.

Then try to make polite conversation

Tomorrow I'll be off to France for a lovely 'salade composée' then travelling abowt bit.

So I'll seeya soon back in lovely Manchester (thanks Kev).

Be Good.
KAZ