Identity crisis

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but our new puppy has yet again experienced a change of identity. She was called Millie, then briefly tagged Dora. Eventually the extreme knitter put her foot down and insisted that she was going to be called her first choice of name “Elsie May” This is now permanent as I’ve ordered her name tag and it cost me a whole £2.49.
The addition of Elsie May to the family has meant that our trips away in the campervan have been put on hold until she has learnt her toileting manners. We are doing day trips to get her used to the campervan life. We drove to Stratford on Avon park, beside the river for a picnic, followed by a walk around the town to get her used to people and crowds. She is doing so well and sleeps through the night.

Taking a decent photograph is nigh on impossible as she runs and runs

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Naming a Poo

The saga of what to call our Cockapoo puppy continued. Yesterday she had the name Elsie for 7 hours. That changed to Molly for 4 hours. The list of possible names is endless, but finally after a second family meeting in the evening it was decided to call her Millie. That’s it now no more changes.

Please meet Millie.

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Picking up Poo

I haven’t posted on here for several months due to us not getting the time to get away in the campervan. Family commitments and a heavy dose of man flu stopped our travels. Hopefully that is all going to change and we’ve got some special places in mind to visit.

More wild camping spots on the agenda for us this year and I’ve been told by the Extreme Knitter that we can include a visit to Scotland again.

It was a long time coming, but eventually the extreme knitter has worn me down and we have added a new member to our explorers club.

 

After a quick trip over to Stilton where we met Amanda, we came away with the new addition to the family.

Please meet ?????

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An 11 week old Cockapoo girl, chocolate brown with a white tuxedo and two white socks. Only time will tell how this new setup will work out, but early signs are promising. Ruby has accepted her new partner in crime and they appear to be working together as a team hell bent on causing us chaos. She travelled well on the trip home, which for a campervan dog is pretty important.

As yet we can’t agree what to call her. Amanda, her breeder called her Muffin, but there are four family members all suggesting their favourite names and we can’t agree. Eventually I will have to step in and make an executive decision and over rule the other three. (did you see how easy I said that, as if I’ll have any say in the matter)

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If you’ve read my previous post “Is that a rat” I hoping that now with ???? beside me and Ruby stood outside the various shops, I won’t get those comments.

 

A big thank you to Amanda for providing us with such a beautiful, well mannered puppy.

 

Adventure Overland show 2017

 

 

The end of September again means only one thing for me. My annual visit to the Adventure Overland Show held on Stratford upon Avon racecourse. This year I visited on my own some. The Extreme Knitter had other commitments.

The show gets better each year with many varied trade stands, displays and so many interesting vehicle in the camping and parking area.

As always, I will just leave a few of the photos for you to digest.

Landrover 1963 Series 2A forward control camper

This beauty was a work in progress. It just oozes classic Landy.

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Just a little electrical work that needs tiding up. One of those five minute jobs

wiring

Nice Arse end

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Xplora Overland were showing their new Ford Transit conversion. If only I had the money.

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I’m trying to convince the Extreme Knitter that we need to tow one of these buggies behind our campervan.

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VW  T5s LTs T4s

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Ex Military Trucks were well represented

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Series One Landrovers

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Our Old Series One Landrover

I do regret selling our Series one Landrover. The beauty of hindsight.

Landrover series one

Is that a Rat ?

I’ve mentioned many times on this blog about the annoying problem of complete strangers (mainly Men) making comments about our Yorkshire Terrier, Ruby.

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I admit that we probably look odd, a large man with a very small dog,

It’s usually when I’m stood outside a shop with Ruby on her lead and they walk by making comments like “Is that a rat” or “my dog would eat that for breakfast” It’s irritating that they are dumb enough to think they are the first ones to have ever said that and expect you to find it funny.

I would love to be able to come back with a quick of the cuff reply, but I seem unable to think of anything suitable.

I’m making an appeal to my follower and any random visitors that accidently land on this site.

I want a short sharp retort that would put these Neanderthals  swiftly in their place.

Sarcasm and humour are required, but remember that it has to meet the intelligence level of the perpetrator.

If you can help, please put your retort in the comments box.

No Swearing though.

45 years and we still don’t know each other

Our kitchen sink has a draining board and on that draining board sits one of those draining trays that you can stack the cups, cutlery and dishes to dry off. We’ve had several replacements over our married life.

Today I plucked up the courage to ask the extreme knitter why we had one.

She said “because you wanted one”.

I said “I never wanted one, I hate the dam thing”

She said “I hate it as well”.

45 years of married bliss and all this time I thought the E/knitter wanted it and she thought I wanted it. Lack of communication I think, but we are still getting to know each other.

The dish tray is now in the dustbin and all is well in the household.

 

Ham Burger

Following on from the last post about Faggots, I remembered that it used to be rumoured that the Ham burger was originally invented in the Black Country. The story went like this.

The History of the Ham Burger

In 1925 on a cobblestone street in Dudley, butchers boy “Billy King” rode his delivery bike. His cargo of freshly made Black Country faggots sat proudly in the bicycles wicker basket.

His bicycle ran over a discarded horseshoe. Hiss!! His front tyre sprung a leak.

He placed the faggots on a nearby wall, removed the tyre and repaired the puncture in double quick time. Unfortunately a gang of grubby urchins from the Priory came along and set about him.

They called him a Wimp. in fact he was such a weakling that his nickname at school was “Wimpy King”. They pushed him backwards against the wall and he landed on the faggots and squashed them flat.

Disaster! What should he do, he decided to ride on to his destination or he would have been in great trouble back at the Butchers shop.

He finally arrived at Mrs McDonalds house and presented her with the tray of squashed faggots.

She stared at the tray in disbelief.

The faggots were for a special evening supper party she was holding in her garden for the orphans of Dudley.

“What shall I do” she exclaimed.

“I know I’ll put them in a bread roll and call them? O bugger what can I call them” she said.

“That’s it, I’ll call them buggers, Ham buggers,” she cried in her strong Scottish accent

She clipped the butcher’s boy around the ear and sent him packing, then proceeded to cook the squashed faggots on an open fire in the garden.

The Orphans enjoyed the Buggers so much that it became a regular trip to Mrs McDonalds every Saturday to saviour the tasty delights.

She felt a sense of pride as she watched the skinny orphans start to put a bit of meat on their bones.

Mrs McDonald would sometimes give away a toy with her Ham buggers, perhaps a spinning top or a hoop & a stick.

Her Ham buggers became famous through out the Black Country and indeed all the land.

Her nephew Ronald was travelling on a World tour with the circus as a clown and so it was that her Ham buggers reached the shores of America in his packed lunch.

The Ham buggers became an overnight success with the Americans and Ronald set up restaurants through out the USA selling McDonalds Ham Buggers, although he was a successful businessman, Ronald couldn’t forget his true vocation and still dressed every day as a clown.

Because the Americans couldn’t speak proper English or Scottish for that matter they pronounced Bugger as Burger.

Back in the Black Country “Billy King” the butcher’s boy who sat on the faggots was now a Butchery tycoon owning a chain of butchers shop through out Great Britain.

Being the entrepreneur, he set up a chain of Ham Bugger restaurants in England and called them Wimpy’s.

Alas the Wimpy restaurant chain hit hard times and he had to sack all his employees and close it down.

The disgruntled employees decided to set up a new restaurant chain and because they hated Billy King so much they called it “Bugger King”.

And what became of the orphans? They grew into extremely large pillars of Black Country society, know as “The Buggers of Dudley”

V Southall ©