Walked down to the allotment this morning. I took the horse and ducks pictures at the Primrose Nature Reserve. Did some more weeding. Then The Old Man gave me a lift to return the strimmer to the hire place. We went to the Long Bar for a quick pint, and talked about marauding foxes and allotment arsonists to a couple of his old shipmates. As we were leaving, one of them shouted, "Have ye got any casting-off coppers?" Dad explained that, when they were embarking on a voyage from the Tyne, kids would hang around the quay because it was customary for the departing sailors to give away all their loose change.
A former 'colleague' from Libya, of whom it can only safely be said that we did NOT see eye to eye, wrote of me in an email to a third party, (who naturally and gleefully forwarded it to me):
Can't say I'm sorry to see the back of that dour porridge faced lump
of shite from Geordieland however, to be crudely honest with you!
How you stuck weeks with him without wanting to cut his throat beats
He's not my biggest fan, then. "Porridge faced"? Hmm. However, one could never be wounded by a man, an English teacher indeed, who uses exclamation marks with such frequency.
Herself said of Ted Heath: "He hated Margaret Thatcher, and that was enough for me."