Wednesday, 29 April 2015

Spot The difference

Take a look at the three pictures below and see if you can spot the difference.

That’s right. I’m smiling properly in picture 1. As the other two were taken, the missus was telling me about the latest gas bill.

I’m also wearing new glasses in the latter two: the everyday glasses in picture 2 and prescription sunglasses in the picture 3.

These are varifocals, and as yu can aee, thet hwlp imptove ny ketboard avvuracy.

I picked them up yesterday and at the same time the optician said she needed to do a field vision test, which she hadn’t done on the original eye test on account of it being her tea break. I told her it was no problem. I’ve driven past any number of fields in my time, and I could see them all.

As it happens I’d forgotten my reading glasses, and she couldn’t do the test with the new bins, so I have to go back this Friday.

The varifocals are taking some getting used to. Every time I move my eyes, the entire world spins. Not that I’m not used to the world spinning, it’s just that normally the cause is a combination of Granny Whizz’s Nut Brown Ale and Old Sporran whisky chasers.

Our dog, Joe is a little confused. He’s crafty bugger is Joe. You think he’s asleep, but in fact he’s earwigging all the time, and he listens for certain keywords like “I’ll change my glasses.” When he hears that, he knows I’m dumping my readers for my distance specs, in order to take him walkies. With the new glasses, I don’t need to change them.

Looks like he’ll have to listen for different keywords.

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

A Missing Filling and a Lighter Wallet

Flatcap has been to the dentist.. and don’t we know about it?

I noticed a few weeks ago that one of the few teeth I have left was a bit sharp. It felt like the enamel had chipped off. I was at the dentist this morning so he gave it a coat of looking at and said, “You’ve lost a filling.”
According to Her Indoors this is entirely typical. I’m always losing things: glasses, mobile phone, door and car keys.
The difference is they usually turn up. The filling hasn’t. I said to the missus, I said, “I don’t think I’ve lost it. I think someone nicked it while I wasn’t looking.”
She also insisted that if I used my part denture for the purpose for which it was designed instead of a doorstop/ashtray/novelty penholder, my real teeth might survive a little longer. Oh yes? I didn’t notice her complaining when I crimped the edge of that apple pie she baked last summer.
Still the dentist applied a new filling and told me to eat with the other side of my mouth. Trouble is, my pies usually demand a whole mouth, not just half of it.
Because I’m on the NHS, I don’t pay full price, but this appointment still cost me fifty dabs. FIFTY POUNDS!!!! FOR TEN MINUTES’ WORK!!!! He’s on a better rate of pay than my solicitor.
It almost tempted me to have a go myself. My nephew did a few years back. He bought and mixed the amalgam, applied it to his tooth and according to his dentist, he did a pretty good job of it… except that he filled the wrong tooth and he still got stuffed for having the correct one done professionally.
The prices are steep and I’m aware that the dentist has overheads, but using tile grout as a colorant?
Cleaning and scaling? Sure he needs tools for it, and that rough file can’t have come cheap, but I know where I can get the same kind of blowlamp he uses for less than a tenner.
And fillings? I can get a plasterer’s trowel for about five quid from B+Q and Marley Mix is rock bottom cheap. It’s the Bosch hammer drill that cost him. Why can’t he use Black and Decker?

All in all, eating a one-sided pie, I still feel like I’ve paid through the nose… or the molar if you prefer.

Sunday, 19 April 2015

Audio and Text?

Well his site was rebuilt, up and running in a matter of days, just like he said it would be. So much for his “I’ll pay you a tenner a post for hosting them, Flatcap.” Not one single post. Talk about a con.
He did give me some advice, though.
“All those posts you’ve recorded, pal, should have the text with them.”
“Redundant,” I said. “What’s the point in putting up the text when people can save wear and tear on their eyes by listening?”
“And what about those who are as deaf as you?”
“They can put headphones on, I do.”
He pursed his lips in a gesture of concern and shook his head just like a mechanic getting ready to quote you for car repairs. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Her Indoors trip over your cans and rip them off your head.”
“There you are then. Trust me on this one, Flatcap. Put the text up as well as the audio option.”
Trust him? I wouldn’t trust him with the wife. Anyway, I gave it some thought and decided he was right, so I’ve put up the text, too… or I will have done before the day’s over.
Not on every post. There are some I can’t find. And you’ll happen find the text is slightly different to the audio. This is because apart from not being perfect, I’m also bloody awkward.

Friday, 10 April 2015

In Loco Wossname

Seems as how him, that Robinson fella, the one I’m supposed to know doesn’t exist, has decided it’s time to rebuild his website, so he’s knocked the old down.
He’s not bad on demolition. I remember him running up the arse of a Vauxhall Viva on the South Leeds Ring Road in 1975. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but he was driving a 32 ton truck at the time, and he turned his head to give a bus driver some verbal. When he looked back, the Viva had stopped and he slammed it right up the jacksey.
This time he’s asked me to host his posts while he gets on with it.
“It won’t take me long, Flatcap,” he said.
I’ve heard that one before.
If he’s good at knocking things down, he’s crap at putting them back together again. It took him half a day to wreck the bleeding bathroom and two and half weeks to retile and repaper it. I wouldn’t care, but it’s the smallest room in the house (it usually is) and I could have done it in two days. And you should see the balls he made of painting the front room ceiling a coupla years back. He reckoned it were the arthritis that stopped him bending his neck back. I think it was more a case of can’t-be-arsed-itis.
Still and all, his site has been torn down and you can track his occasional posts here, until he gets it running again.

But if you check with your bookie, you’ll probably get a good price on it being this side of Christmas.

Monday, 6 April 2015

Hadrian’s Universe of Zog

Faced with the prospect of a boring Easter Monday, the lad turns his cynical eye on the world of high energy physics at the Large Hadron Collider… and as usual what he knows about it can be written on a postcard and still leave room for a full-length novel.

I’ve had a bit of trouble keeping up with the comings and goings at the Hadrian Cern’s large collider.
Apparently they were ready to reboot it last week, but summat went wrong.
And according to my reading, admittedly coloured by a couple of bottles of Granny Whizz’s Nut Brown Ale, Hadrian was going to create a new universe with it.
That doesn’t sound like a good idea. One of Hadrian’s ancestors built a wall from Newcastle to Carlisle, but it didn’t stop the Scots turning up in Blackpool every summer. Offa built a dyke from Chester to Chepstow, but it hasn’t stopped the English invading Wales and buying all the property as second homes. The government instituted stringent checks on outbound passengers at ports and airports, but most Brits still shoot off abroad for a couple of weeks a year.
And talking of abroad, god knows what the missus will make of this business with Hadrian. She has enough trouble deciding what to pack for Benidorm, never mind another universe.
Not that it stops her giving out advice.
“Make sure you pack your Preparation H, Flatcap. You know what the lavatories are like in strange hotels.”
Hadrian’s collider was supposed to start up last week, but they couldn’t because there was some kind of electrical problem.
Oh yes? I’ve heard that one before.
“It’s yer alternator, guv. Knackered. Gonna cost you a ton for a recon, and then there’s the fitting. Better plan on one and a half.”
It seems, however, I’m wrong. Hadrian’s collider really did have an electrical fault.
And it took a week and a bit to sort it out? They shoulda sent for my mate, Dave. We had a dead short on the hall light and he sorted it in less than two hours.
The boffin in charge of Hadrian reckons they’re now up to somewhere near full speed but the collisions won’t start for another month.
I’ve heard that one before, as well. Where I come from deliberately arranging collisions so you can claim on the insurance is called crash for cash.
It’ll be interesting to see how this new universe pans out.
You can bet that in a matter of weeks the budget airlines will be tripping over one another to offer flights to Zog for less than a hundred quid, all your big supermarkets will be seeking planning permission for an out of dimension shopping centre, and coming so close to a general election, what price the Tories will insist it’s another raring opportunity for foreign buyers to invest in this country, Labour will want to know how many Zoggian employees are on zero hours contracts, and UKIP will be complaining the place is full of illegal immigrants
Would you prefer to listen to Flatcap delivering most of this post in his own, inimitable style? Click below.

Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Underpants and Illumination

No point listening here for April fool gags. This site is daft every day of the year. And just to prove it, here’s the lad rambling on about underpants and a torch.

As you probably know, we shot off to the Canary Islands for a week a little while ago. Excellent break, just what we needed but, as usual, we forgot to take one or two items.
Last year, it was my underwear. I laid out my Y-fronts for packing and Her Indoors packed them… back in the bedroom drawer, leaving me in Playa del Ingles with only the pair I had on.
Two thousand miles from my shreddies, although I volunteered to stick with the same pair for the entire holiday, Her Indoors insisted I could not for fear that when we got home, they’d jump out of the case and walk into the washing machine of their own accord. She would need an environment suit before she would be prepared to handle them.
So I had to buy new, and of the half dozen pairs we bought only two fitted properly. I spent the whole week talking in a soprano voice, and when we got home I had a full set of brand new, multi-coloured, designer label dusters for the car.
This year, having checked and double checked that the required number of underpants were present and correct, we got to the Canary Islands only to learn that my walking stick was at home.
You’d think that it shouldn’t be a problem on holiday where all you really wanna do is lounge around the pool, laze on the beach or slump over the pub tables when you’ve had too many vodka shandies.  But Her Indoors is a professional shopper and she has this habit of walking me everywhere… twice.
So I bought a cheap, telescopic stick while I was in Puerto del Carmen. To my surprise, not only was this telescopic, and easily adjusted to suit any height, but it came fitted with a torch.
Remember, you heard it here first. My walking stick has an inbuilt flashlight.
We’ve been home almost a month, the stick has been in my possession for five weeks and I’m still trying to work out who would need a torch fitted to a walking stick. I mean, it’s not like we get fog so bad that you can’t see a hand in front of your face. And I don’t need it to let drivers know I’m walking along the road because I don’t walk along the road. I stick to the pavements.
Then I learned why it was fitted with a torch. It doesn’t work and you’re driven to distraction trying to make it work. In fact it distracts you so much that you don’t notice the little rubber shock absorber has fallen off somewhere between here and Puerto del Carmen, leaving you with a metal end that slides all over the bloody place on paved or tiled floors.
Note to self: in future, make sure you take your stick with you.
Would you prefer to listen to Flatcap delivering most of this post in his own, inimitable style? Click below.