You Can't Have Everything ..............Where Would You Put It?

Having dinner with my rich English friends last month got me thinking again about the whole class structure I grew up in. New Zealand certainly has one but unlike the U.K. it’s not directly in your face. At their home in Bath they had tables you couldn’t put things on and cushions you wouldn’t dare sit on. Expensive ornaments were placed in back lit alcoves. These people had shelves with just one item on!! They wore dinner jackets and polished shoes.
I was brought up on blazers and stay press trousers for best…. socks with open toe sandals. We had a cosy cover on the toilet seat and a musical lavatory roll. We had a shed with pigeons. Simple meals at home ….. The joy of golden syrup on white bread………….
The neighbours ….related or not… were my aunts and uncles, each one of them a colourful cockney character. All decked out in cloth cap and work boots. Braces over collarless shirts worn thin from endless washing, looking for all the world like the entire cast of ‘My Fair Lady’……. “Oh wouldn’t it be luvely!!!” ……
As a boy I used to go to the local swimming pools. There was a whole class structure there……… based on suntans. Ranging from the bronze Adonis strutting their stuff by the poolside down to ……. well me! I used to go to the far corner with all the rubbish and the spilt ice cream. People would say…………. “Look at that skinny white kid he shouldn’t be allowed in”.
That’s how we’d end up swimming in the local duck pond…… and I use the word ‘pond’ loosely. Please put out of your head any image of a pristine pool with white fluffy ducks gliding across its surface. This was full of stuff that nobody wanted. Old tyres, old tins of paint …….. old people!
There’s a shopping centre now where that pond used to be and the pool closed down when people found out they could get a better class of verruca at the new leisure centre. Funny ……they talk about extra leisure time but if you go down to the local leisure centre they’re all doing something to keep fit! They’re lifting, squatting, sweating, running………. If I owned the place there would be nothing but rows of beds covered in Sunday newspapers…….
I’ve never been into keep fit myself not even the stretching type like Yoga….. There can be no more terrible sight than a man in his under pants locked in the lotus position with his feet stuck under his arm pits completely unable to move! When ever I feel like exercise I lie down until the feeling passes.
Even Mick Jagger jogs 30km a day… 30km!! And he’s started to look healthy!
I preferred him the old way…wasting away from drink and drugs. He was always a hero of mine……
We would have just finished the Sunday roast, every week a winner…..
If you don’t eat roast beef you’ll never know the joys of Yorkshire pudding. You can hardly soak the gravy up with musselli. ….Meal over and everyone falls asleep. The only thing on the telly is one of those black and white English war films. You know the sort…… the sergeant takes this platoon of raw recruits and moulds them into a tough and fighting force and then hands them over to John Mills who gets them all killed. I could never stand it but the trouble was the only alternative was to go driving for the afternoon with the old man ……. And even the thought was scary! …I firmly believe the term Sunday driver was coined for my dad!! He’d say “ I don’t know what they’re rushing for they’re not going to get there any quicker”…. Oh yes they are dad, about a day quicker at the rate we go…..
I’d saunter over to the stereo and put on a Rolling Stones record. . My mum would grumble “ You can turn that off for a start!. .we don’t want to listen to all that Beatles rubbish”……… I could never understand how she could not tell the difference between the two groups ….because it was clear to me.
If the Beatles had knocked on the door they”d have been all polite and giggled a bit because they just had a joint down the road and then got all embarrassed.. ….. Paul would have blushed and they would have had tea and pulled mother’s leg a little, then a bit of a laugh again and “Thanks ”and “Ta’ra” and off down the road together. …..whereas the Stones…after dropping acid, would have come in tripping , swallowed the gold fish, knocked a few of the flying ducks off the wall, pissed on the rose beds and fucked off!!……..
Sadly the Sunday roast is losing it’s grip in the 21st century with too many people working eighty hours a week to keep up their life style!…… . The newspaper adverts told us we could have it all. On the TV there’s always the happy smiling kids and parents laughing around the breakfast table together. We could be great dads and still go off skiing and earn lots of money and pop out of a business meeting to tell our children a bedtime story over the mobile phone……but it can’t be done…something has to give!………………… usually the sex life.
Now days we have milk that lasts and marriages that don’t!
I blame it on women’s magazines….most men dread them coming out … they never know what to do….each month something else from another expert…
She’s saying… “Oh look at this …. ’Ten Ways To Win Back Your Man’s Attention’ ……… this looks interesting……….ten ways…win back attention”

I think put the magazine down would be a good number one don’t you?

This month ‘Twenty Five Ways To Improve Your Sex Life’ ….. Sorry ….‘NEW’………. ‘Twenty Five NEW Ways To Improve Your Sex Life!’ ……….. I don’t know twenty five OLD ones!!
Last month in Cosmopolitan they suggested yoghurt!……… I don’t even like yoghurt on its own!!!…..

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