On holerday... (Somerset, goin' back o'bit, mind)

I've made the journey to Somerset from Glasgow and visited friends for the first time in eight months. I've never been away for so long. It's been wonderful to see Mum and my friends John and Shelley who run The George Hotel in Wedmore.

A few pints of cider have flowed and John, who like myself, is a Wedmore autochthon *(1), have set the world spinning on its axis once more...


Tealham Moor is a wildlife sanctuary to the south-west of Wedmore. It is remote. It is at the back of the far-end of Beyond. Here be dragons, griffins, wyverns and other creatures of legend: my ancestors used to fend these beasties before Great-fer-how-many-grampfer Bill decided there was a future to be had in the Victorian building boom and gave up the farming for a more prosperous future.

There remained a few stragglers and some mingled with the Deep-Peat Moor cutters, providing them with cider to ease their woes.

These days we take our refreshments in The George where there is still preserved a euphemistic tradition that can trace itself to the "University of Tealham *(2)".

One can hear to this day, the landlord proclaim "what-the four-and-half?" upon receipt of his gas-bill.

The origin of this delightful phrase emanates from a distant relative of the eighteenth century who rejoiced in the name of Quebert Bujman.

"Four" is a four-letter word beginning with "F" and Quebert took to using the word euphemistically, followed by a fractional part to denote the severity of his umbrage.

"Four-and-a-half" is the default and "Four-and-three-quarters" denotes unusual surprise or concentrated annoyance.

(There is a special usage: "Four-point-zero" translates as bugger-all)

This measure that ranges from 4.0 to 4.999... is known as the Quebert Scale.

Quebert Bujman (1720-1793)
Quebert was no bellwether, despite that he posited the idea of crossing a sheep with a dog in order that his neighbour's flock might self-herd.

He may have been a genius, but history does not record him as such: he is a fugwit of yore whose cider-house has long been reclaimed by the subsidence of Tealham.

Quebert died in 1793 as he was using a primitive blow-lamp to warm his applejack and ginger, which he swore by as an alternative to hot-toddy. Slowed by his cold, he was unable to prevent the resulting fire from gaining purchase on his cider barn and succumbed to the flames.

There were reports of spontaneous combustion, but generations of Bujmen know the rumours to be scurrilous.

Quebert lacked the spark for self-ignition.

Another of my ancestors from Tealham was Dimbulb Bujman, a steady, dependable man who was widely mourned when his time came too early.

Dimbulb Bujman 1803-1864
Dimbulb Bujman was related on the distaff *(3) side to the Edisons. The glow from Dimbulb's nose was sufficient to show him that the "dial would give no further" and so he went about his affairs fully aware of his limitations.

He was possessed of an amenable wit, wisdom and demeanour and deployed these without pretence.

Dimbulb enjoyed the occasional recreational escape, like so many Bujmen, and his penchant was for hunting herons on neighbouring Tadham Moor. Herons, Cranes, Egrets... They were all the same to Dimbulb and he cursed them as storks for bringing him yet another littl'un.

Dimbulb was taken shortly before his 61st birthday during a thunderstorm. He had lassoed a heron by the legs and was rejoicing at the possession of a control-line flying machine when the union of bird, rope and man earthed a lightning discharge and Dimbulb became Brightbulb for a fleeting moment.

History does not record what became of the heron, yet there thrives a cranery two furlongs west of Blakeway, within a rope's length of the very spot where the thunderbolt made so bold.


*(1) One born of the soil (literally, self-constructed of the soil)
*(2) Tealham is pronounced "Tillum"
*(3) The maternal line

Uncle Bujinald was 'round this morning to show us what he'd fashioned from a pair of old webcams and a broom handle >>

"Wha's got thur, Buji?"

"Helicopter, young'un."

"They'll be after'ee with the butterfly nets, s'no?"

"'Spec. Catchin's 'nother thing, mind."

'Tis true. Bujinald is out there and you never know which of the pill boxes along the Brue he's hiding in.

Earlier, had to go'n'tear a sheet off a roll, so t'speak, and took last week's Private Eye wi'me. Wipes better than The Sun

When I got thur, bugger'd if t'weren't chock-full o'snarley-horns. Had to clear the blighters out with the bog-ladle. Two went out the half-moon for Mr Thrush's breakfast and the rest i'll be tipping over your hedge later on.

Right. Off to Roger's for a half'o'half'n'half...

There was an unusually polite santa monkey at the door this morning. He'd brought my bookcases, bless'un. That's the day off to a flyer. 'Spec it'll turn to rat-shit presently.

Unfortunately, Alan, this cynical old moo has seen too much of it...

We have an expression down 'ere on Tealham: "Fine before seven, rain before eleven" and so it has proved...

There will be outpourings later, but for now, I'm summoning the courage to open the next box.

Well, I opened the other boxes and put together the bookcase and mediacase without any problems. Cheap chipboard rubbish with a laminated fake-oak covering, but they're not exactly an eye-sore either of them, so they'll do.

The mediacase will hold 750 CDs so it should take me a while to fill, even if I shift my collection from Somerset. I am alarmed at the number of CDs and DVDs that I've acquired since I've been in Scotland. If I carry on at this rate, with the Somerset collection too, I'll fill it in two years.

Not so, the bookcase. I've bought little in the way of books while I've been in Glasgow. My library remains in Somerset too, though I'd expect that comfortably to fill the bookcase, large though it is.

The laundry basket of despair, though... So tired have I been, chasing me undercrackers 'round the bedroom with the lumphammers that I thought it time to invest.

So, part of the consignment was a laundry basket - a simple box that one screws together with the Allen Key provided and then tops out with a few small brass screws to hold the lid to the brass hinges.

Seven generations of Bujmen surveyed the screws and six of them of them spun in their graves; I was the one holding the screwdriver. (Thankfully, Father is still alive and far away in the Moselle...)

The moment I spied them, I knew they weren't man enough for the job, and despite the tenderest application, they sheared within a few turns each.

Made in China.

One of the spinning ancestors was Joseph, great-great-grandfather, master carpenter. Joseph put the roof on Wedmore Village Hall back in Victorian times. We re-felted the roof three years ago and Joseph's cut-roof was as good as the day he put it there.

He used tools manufactured in Birmingham c.1850. Collector's items now, built by craftsmen for craftsmen, they were expected to last a lifetime, not a laughtime.

They have the last laugh, though. Not only has Father used them throughout his fifty year career, I've also used them to good effect when I had a brief career as a signmaker and signwriter. They'll no doubt serve their next owner well, too.

Made in Birmingham, England.

_________________
The Daily Turnout - First for profulgent flatulence

I went to watch a demolition in Gorbals today. I have plenty of photographs and I even managed to get my webcam working in time. I've never used it before.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlQQf1Y-GbM

However...

The BBC does these things a little better than I do >>

It was very dusty but very noisy and great fun. I know when the next one is too...

_________________
The Daily Turnout - First for profulgent flatulence

Had a really cheery guy from the power company 'round this morning to change the electric meter. He brought a mate from the gas company to change that meter too. The whole plot talks to each other as well as keeping the power company's computer updated across the Orange network.

I've got a magical little box in the corner of the room that tells me precisely how much power and gas I'm using at any given time and how much it's costing me. So I won't have to wait in for someone to come and read the meter ever again.

We swapped stories about the building trade and I gave him a few pointers with regard to his new laptop. Such a refreshing change from the usual monkeys that come swinging through the door.

I shall go to see the nurse later, to get my blood pressure checked and tomorrow I shall start on my next medication: Loestrin 30. It's supposed to replace the Dianette. I hope it's better than the last time I switched hormones. One menopause is enough, thanks.

_________________
The Daily Turnout - First for profulgent flatulence

Blood pressure 132/86 compared to 155/104 on 8th April. It's a stress-free life at Reenie Towers, these days.

_________________
The Daily Turnout - First for profulgent flatulence

YouTube debug message:

Quote:

500 Internal Server Error Sorry, something went wrong. A team of highly trained monkeys has been dispatched to deal with this situation. Please report this incident to customer service. Also, please include the following information in your error report: 6dzAE_LMCylu9p9IVJVNLAOF_28P5J3P6Y6mxmu6UwI3e8iGCTzHFTgaU25i 2YYAiJg6HEtLnV0N-evBsjiGbhfwtH0H9nk8wIeOdPugCPC7yO62MLkWCMlT rBMmPbnZPMH0cDx8Dnsy9phHQlMYCbfQLJipwbkpyqD6Bs7FQby_TpgTcFwy ThrFFnR0aHTrN72p9_bVdgEKB39hNnhw9vlMUVt9DUozE9i10p10-66dfOeY TVYRbEL7OJInvIqgPxBf_-GOsW0Az4uiHxnqiTsBB...

Monkeys? Someone's honest...

_________________
The Daily Turnout - First for profulgent flatulence

Hahaha! Love it! It's great when people can take the mickey out of themselves like that - or maybe, as you say, it's just some refreshing honesty...

Dave

Tuesday 7th June 1988
This was the most awful day I have ever known. My brother succumbed to the injuries that he had sustained three days previously when he had been struck by a bus.

That was twenty years and half my life ago.

Times have changed but the memories haven't.

I've a feeling today is going to be difficult. I've been off the gabapentin (the anti-convulsant that I have been taking for my neuralgia) for two weeks now and my mind has sharpened up. So has the pain.

Time to get maudlin drunk.

Herbie? Take the cork out me breakfast, there's a good lad...

_________________
The Daily Turnout - First for profulgent flatulence

I know this must be an awful anniversary for you Reenie. I hope that somehow the day is less painful than the previous 7th of June's.

_________________
Chrissy
Forums Moderator.

Always have faith and believe in yourself.
Never run from the truth.
Have the will to change your fate and your spirit will never die.
Check out the tzone team bios here: http://www.transgenderzone.com/bio.htm

Reenie, there's not really much I can say, but my thoughts are with you.

Dave

Nothing much I can add Reenie except to say my thoughts are with you as well.

_________________
"Everywhere I go I hear what' going on,
And the more I hear the less I know"