Snow Joke...

Okay, so there's plenty of snow about at Future; Nostalgic Towers, and the roads round here are like skating rinks...


It's winter, get over it!

Well I would, but...

I am moved this morning, watching the blizzard swirling outside my window, to have a bit of a moan about the snow. Well, not the snow exactly...

+++ Caution, snow rant ahead! +++

Our Skiing Correspondent ventured, at much risk to life and limb on the icy pavements, down to the local grit bin last night, only to be accosted by two of our erstwhile boys in blue (and just so you know, I have the utmost respect [usually] for our emergency services who do a very difficult job in often dangerous circumstances).

'What do you want the grit for?' they asked.

'I have two elderly neighbours who can't get out of their house because of the ice and snow, they haven't been out for a week, and I have a disabled family member who needs to make a hospital appointment. '

'Okay, but what do you want the grit for?'

'I'm going to clear my neighbours' paths* and put some grit down so they don't fall and hurt themselves if they have to go out. Then I'm going to dig our car out and put some grit down so my disabled family member can get to their next hospital appointment. You know, community spirit, like it says on the radio - look after the elderly and infirm...'

'Yes, but what do you want the grit...'

'Oh, go away!'

And they did! As soon as they'd gone, there followed a feeding frenzy around the grit bin. One old bloke said to Our Skiing Correspondent, 'I'm so pleased you did that. I wanted to, but was too frightened to say anything to them in case they arrested me.'

+++ Rant over. As you were. +++

* without having to be asked, I hasten to add.

Snow Joke...

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'd like to wish all of Future; Nostalgic's readers and friends a very Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Christmas, Cats and #Fridayflash

Those of you who follow me on Twitter (@FutureNostalgic) will no doubt be familiar with the Christmas preparations here at Pen-thusiast Towers, namely the fun and games we've had putting up our Christmas tree. I swear, it was only out of its box for 30 seconds before No. 4 Cat took up residence...

Mrs. Future; Nostalgic called in a feline relocation expert (yours truly!) and once No. 4 Cat had been raked out of the branches, and I went to staunch the bleeding, she managed to get the decorations on the tree. Just in time...

It's worse now there are toys to play with - the poor Christmas Robin decoration will never be the same again - I'm sure it's having nightmares!

I have however, noticed how No. 4 Cat shares an ability with small children of a similar age - and if you've ever tried to get a recalcitrant toddler into a pushchair (stroller) you'll know exactly what I mean. As soon as she feels me apply that lifting-out-of-the-tree grip, No. 4 Cat goes all stiff and heavy. It's not as though she actively hangs on for grim death, it's more like extremely effective passive resistance; I wouldn't be surprised if she's out doing sit-ins and campaigning for mice's rights or some such when she's older!

I suppose there is an upside to having a cat with so much personality (did someone say too much personality?), and that is she does provide some inspiration for writing, which brings me neatly on to #fridayflash.

Friday what?!

#Fridayflash.

Err...isn't that...

No! Nothing at all to do with hanging around in a public place on a Friday, wearing nothing but a dirty raincoat! #Fridayflash is all about writing. Let me explain...

Created by J. M. Strother, #fridayflash is, in a nutshell, short fiction of 1000 words or less, posted on the author's blog on a Friday, with the title and URL Tweeted on Twitter along with the #fridayflash hashtag; it is also possible to post the URL on the #fridayflash group page on Facebook.

Last Friday's list of #fridayflash stories can be found here.

I was (so they tell me) quite good at English Language at school and used to enjoy creative writing essays, in fact it was about the only part of school I did enjoy, but what with one thing and another (work, life, family, etc.) it's been years since I've done anything like that, and I wasn't sure I still could.

Last month was NaNoWriMo, and a few of my friends on Twitter took part. I, on the other hand, took one look at the idea of writing a 50 000 word novel in a month and was last seen driving a (metaphorical) fast pair of feet in the opposite direction! 50 000 words in a month? Me? Yeah, right!

Enter #fridayflash. Hang on a minute, 1000 words maximum and no time limit? Hmmm. Surely I can crank out 500 words or so? How hard could it be? Well, it wasn't easy, but I did it - then I checked my word processor’s word count feature. 1014 words! Hold on, how did that happen?! Out with the red pen, and a couple of days later I'd managed to get it under the 1000, so I posted it in the hope maybe a couple of people might possibly stop by and read it.

Wow! I was truly humbled by all the wonderfully constructive and supportive comments. What a great bunch of people the #fridayflash authors and readers are.

Maybe I should have another go...

I've now written a couple of #fridayflash stories, which (shameless plug!) can be found here, and here, but I'm already coming to see what a great medium #fridayflash is. If you have access to Twitter, do search the #fridayflash hashtag, you will not be disappointed!

Christmas, Cats and #Fridayflash

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all of Future; Nostalgic's US readers.

Happy Thanksgiving

Remembrance Sunday - We Will Remember Them

In the United Kingdom, Remembrance Sunday is the second Sunday of November, the Sunday nearest to 11th of November (Remembrance Day), which is the anniversary of the end of the hostilities of the First World War at 11 a.m. in 1918.


On this day, people across the UK pause to reflect on the sacrifices made by our Service men and women, both in current conflicts and those of the past. In 2009 Remembrance Sunday is Sunday 8th November. The Two Minute Silence is a customary part of Remembrance Sunday, and this year, for the first time, there are plans for The Two Minute Silence on Twitter (thanks to @PoppySupport) starting at 11.00am GMT. Please support it if you can.

From The Royal British Legion website:

The Royal British Legion has always supported the traditional Remembrance Sunday services and the customary Two Minute Silence on that day. As the national custodian of Remembrance, the Legion also believes that when 11th November (Armistice Day) falls on days other than Sundays - on working days - Remembrance should be brought into the everyday life of the nation on those days as well.

The Royal British Legion was formed in 1921 to support the veterans of the Great War. Since then, Britain has been involved in many other wars and fields of Service, creating a continuous supply of Service men and women, and their families, who need assistance.

The Legion helps people of all ages and backgrounds. To be eligible for our help, they must have served in the Forces for at least 7 days, or be the dependant of someone who has served. It really is that simple.

Each year support for The Royal British Legion's charity work is through the Poppy Appeal.

The first official Poppy Day was held in Britain on 11th November 1921, inspired by John McCrae's poem In Flanders' Fields. Since then the Poppy Appeal has been an annual event. The Poppy Appeal's current theme, "Serving those who Serve," emphasises the way in which the appeal's focus is shifting with the increasing need to help the service personnel who are serving today, as well as ex-service personnel and their dependants.

The iconic Poppy worn by so many on Remembrance Day was first produced in 1922 after Major George Howson formed the Disabled Society to help disabled ex-service men and women from the First World War. The original poppy was designed to be easily assembled by workers with a disability.

Flanders' Field of Poppies, Ypres

For more information about the Poppy Appeal, please visit www.poppy.org.uk and for information about the history and current work of The Royal British Legion, please visit www.britishlegion.org.uk

On a personal note, MIL was a member of The Royal British Legion and a lifelong supporter of the Poppy Appeal, the retiring collection at her funeral raised over £280 for the Poppy Appeal, so Remembrance Sunday will be particularly poignant for us this year.

Pictures courtesy of The Royal British Legion

Remembrance Sunday - We Will Remember Them

Happy Halloween!

Greetings and Happy Halloween to all of Future; Nostalgic's readers!

I hope you all have a great time. Thanks to a few of my friends on Twitter (@lauraeno and @adelejournal in particular) I'm planning on having a great time this Halloween getting through the large bag of candycorn @adelejournal kindly sent me. Thanks also to another Twitter friend (@Okami0731) for her help in locating a recipe for home made candycorn - now I'll have a supply all year round; I hope my dentist isn't reading this!

For any of my readers who have not partaken of the US delicacy that is candycorn, and for those who are wondering what the heck I'm on about, this is the aforementioned candy, ably modelled by Bertie, my Halloween rat:

If you have the opportunity, you owe it to yourself to try this stuff, but be warned, it's addictive!

Right...nomnom...must go, this...nomnom...candycorn won't...nomnom...eat itself ya know!

Happy Halloween!

Still With My Hat On...

The recent trip to Berwick has given up a second slew of goodies which had been lurking at the bottom of a rather large suitcase. Now I can get at them, I thought I'd share...

First there's this small selection of items from the German company Nici, which I picked up in a bargain bin at some rather good prices. There's a pencil case decorated with Nici sheep in various colours - some of them are even wearing coats! The sheep also appear on the cover of the pocket sized notebook, whilst the address book features 'Taking it Easy' sheep and Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. My darling daughter also picked up the plushies of these to hang off her bag. They're very cute!

On the way to Berwick, we stopped off at the village of Seahouses, gateway to the Farne Islands, for lunch (chips from the fantastic chippy in the High Street) and, whilst munching I was drawn to the gift shop opposite where I picked up these two postcard books by Simon Drew. Each book contains 20 individually-designed postcards, all very well-drawn and extremely humorous; it is merely a coincidence that those in the photo above happen to feature cats.

I also picked up this colourful notebook with Puffins on the cover at the same shop, though the wooden bowl came from an outing over the weekend to Paxton House, just across the border into Scotland.

The bowl is interesting inasmuch as it is turned from Bog Oak by a local craftsman and the wood is around 4500 years old! That particular purchase didn't take much thinking about to be honest, as I can count on the fingers of err...a couple of fingers, how many Bog Oak items (that I could afford!) I've seen for sale. The bowl is a deep, glossy black and, depending on the light, you can just about make out some of the striations of the natural oak.

From what I'm told, Bog Oak most often surfaces when peat bogs are drained, and it tends to emerge as whole tree trunks, though usually only the heartwood of the log is in any fit state to be worked. Sometimes the whole log is unuseable, so it's always a bit of a gamble buying a Bog Oak log, though when there is good wood still to be had, gems such as this bowl are the result.

Still With My Hat On...

Of Cabbages and Kings

With apologies to Lewis Caroll...

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax,
Of cabbages, and kings..."
"And pens," said Sam. "Don't forget the pens."

loosely based on The Walrus and The Carpenter by Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)

I feel the time has come to attempt to draw a line under the sad events of the last couple of months, and in so doing I'd like to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt thanks to all of Future; Nostalgic's readers who have emailed, commented or Tweeted kind thoughts and condolences during this difficult time, you've been brilliant and I appreciate your support more than I can tell you.

It remains my intention to blog about MIL's army career during WW2, and the nice people at UK Army Records have confirmed they have a file relating to that period, though it is likely to be six to eight months before I can get my hands on a copy.

Thanks again folks, normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Of Cabbages and Kings

A Sad Loss

It is with much sadness that I have to report we lost my wonderful Mother in Law on Moday 7th September. She passed away peacefully in hospital at 9.05am GMT and we miss her terribly. Thankfully MIL's passing was very peaceful and she wasn't suffering or in pain. My wonderful wife was with her when she passed and MIL was awake and aware until about five minutes before the end.

MIL was an absolutely fantastic lady, fiercely independent and with a heart of gold. I do intend telling her story once things get back to normal.

MIL had been in hospital for a few weeks and she was amazed to discover she had an international fan club, it really made her smile. Thanks to all Future; Nostalgic's readers and Twitter followers who got in touch to offer MIL kind thoughts and support, we really do appreciate it.

A Sad Loss

Oh, That's Just Great!

There we were, on our way back from hospital visiting at the weekend when I drove over a speed hump* in the road and something under the pen-thusiast mobile went, 'twang!' Cosmic! Pulling over revealed the exhaust (US: muffler?) hanging off at a jaunty angle and every time I drove over a speed hump as I nursed the mobile home, the exhaust was catching on it, threatening to rip itself off altogether. Great, just great!

*for those not in the know speed humps, bumps, sleeping policemen or 'traffic calming measures' as they are referred to in language you can use with your maiden aunt in the room, are raised areas in the road, designed to cut vehicles' speed as they negotiate them. Most are ramped at both sides though some, like the one in question, resemble the north face of the Eiger and would be better tackled with crampons and climbing gear rather than by car. IMHO they are an absolute menace - this is the second time my exhaust has been ripped off by one, both times whilst driving well within the posted speed limit.

Of course, by the time I limped home the local exhaust centre had closed for the weekend so all I could do was sit and fret about the amount of money (that I didn't have) it was going to cost to fix come Monday morning.

Picture copyright HiQ

So first thing this morning, the mobile and I picked our way gingerly down to HiQ and explained the situation to Chris, Walley and the guys who almost instantly set about fixing the problem. While I was there I figured it was about time I replaced the back box of the exhaust as my mechanic tells me the baffles have gone. Do what?! All I know is that, when the engine is idling passers-by stare at the mobile like they're wondering how I got a Sherman tank engine in there in the first place, all the while listening to the wonderful symphony coming out of the back end - which sounds like someone gargling with a bag of rusty spanners!

How long can you hold your breath? Well, I've discovered I can manage it for about as long as it takes for Chris to ring his exhaust supplier and give me a price! Credit where it's due, the new part was delivered within the hour and shortly afterwards I'm back on the road with the exhaust so quiet I have to keep checking the mobile hasn't stalled! Hat's off to Chris, Walley and the guys for the excellent service; that's why I've been going there for years.

Oh, That's Just Great!

Guess where...

...this pen-thusiast took a trip to? Head on over to Quo Vadis Blog and find out here!

While I was there I picked up this beautiful little pot for only a couple of pounds.


It was hidden in among a display of bric-a-brac in the tearoom, which is run by volunteers, proceeds from the sale of these items goes towards the building's running costs.

As far as I can tell, the pot is made of steel and is approx 73mm in diameter by 50mm deep, making it the ideal thing to hold all those loose ink cartridges I seem to have lying around. It has a soft, fuzzy black lining, which suggests I am not using it for its originally intended purpose, though I have no idea what that purpose is - answers on a postcard please...


All I do know is that it was cheap, ideally suited to life as an ink cartridge pot, and the proceeds from the sale went to a good cause.

Thanks to Leah and Karen for featuring my trip in their blog's 'Where To Go' spot.

Guess where...

Cold Comfort

The latest installment of 'What I Learned From...' over at Middle Zone Musings will feature lessons learned from plants, so partly because of that and because Future; Nostalgic's introductory blurb mentions my interest in herbal medicine, I figured it was about time I posted something on the subject, and what better than a short account of my introduction to the world of plant-based medicines...

Flowers of Black Elder (Sambucus nigra Black Lace)

I wasn't feeling too good, not good at all - this was a few years ago and I was in the grip of one of those persistent colds that just won't shift, no matter what you throw at it.

You know the sort of cold I mean - it's the one that single-handedly keeps your local pharmacist in business and gives the shareholders of tissue manufacturing companies a nice warm glow when they contemplate next year's dividend! My doctor had made all the right noises, but paracetamol, fluids and keeping warm just weren't cutting it, I was getting through cough medicine like a hardened wino, all the while anticipating the onset of a secondary infection that would require at least two courses of antibiotics to deal with when a friend passed me a copy of a book on herbal medicine.

Now I confess, up until that point in my life, I'd always been skeptical of such 'new age' nonsense however, a flick through said book suggested there may be something herbal I could try. What was even better was that two of the three ingredients grew in our garden, and I knew where the third could be obtained (legally, I hasten to add!), so it wasn't long before I was sipping a hot tea concocted from elderflowers, yarrow and peppermint, sweetened with local honey and you know what - it really was quite pleasant.

Within a day or two of starting the tea therapy I began to feel better, dramatically better, so it must have had some sort of effect over and above that of a placebo. It still took another week before I was back to my old self, but for the first time in all my *cough* years, the expected infection never materialised and I was able to remain antibiotic-free.

I bought the book!

[edit: the latest WILF (What I Learned From...) is now up and you can read all 16 entries here.]

Cold Comfort

Binder Clip Art

Last night I was playing about with some binder clips I'd picked up in my local Asda's (Wal-Mart) stationery clearance and managed, with some effort, to produce a couple of goldfish, so I thought I'd share.



Whilst you may be thinking I can't count, there are indeed only two goldfish in the photo above, the third fish is more of a red herring! Sorry, couldn't resist!

My darling daughter then decided she would have a go...

"There you go Dad," she said with a flourish, presenting me with, if I say so myself, a rather good representation of Yggdrasil (the World Tree).



Talent like that makes me sick!

Binder Clip Art

Happy Fourth of July

Happy Fourth of July to all of Future; Nostalgic's US readers!

Happy Fourth of July

RAC - Credit Where It's Due.

The pen-thusiastmobile broke down yesterday. The engine turned over just fine, but it wouldn't start. Bother! To be fair it's an old car, 17 years old in fact, but it's always been very reliable so I was a little concerned. Having had no luck checking the usual suspects (oil, water, fuel), I coaxed, I threatened, I swore; nothing. I would have even resorted to what Basil Fawlty did in the episode Gourmet Night if there had been a suitable branch handy, instead I got on the phone to the RAC, my emergency breakdown provider of choice.

To be fair, I'm not mechanically-minded, I know which end the fuel, oil and water go in and can put air in the tyres, but that's about it, so I needed help. Give me a sick pen on the other hand...

I could expect a 45 minute wait I was told, but at least I could break out the trusty Preppy and start writing the experience up to post later, which would have been quite pleasant had the British weather not decided to have a go at having a heatwave, so instead I sat and baked. Cosmic!

photo copyright RAC. All rights reserved.

Within 20 minutes I'd had a call from the RAC patrolman to let me know he was on the way, and a shortly afterwards his orange van appeared over the horizon like the 7th Cavalry. Gary, the patrolman, was soon rummaging around in the bowels of the 'mobile's engine while I was doing as I was told and cranking it over when asked. Within minutes the 'mobile coughed into life again amid a cloud of smoke a 40-a-day Woodbine smoker would have been proud of. Talk about healing hands!

So what was wrong with it I asked tentatively, feeling my wallet wince even as the words came out of mouth. It turned out there was some corrosion in one of the connectors of the wiring harness under the bonnet which had interrupted the flow of electricity to the engine coil and the ignition. The what, under the where? Gary showed me. Oh, that, under there! Would I need a mechanic, or spares, or a new car? No, no and no came the reply and my wallet breathed a sigh of relief.

So there we go, just over an hour from breakdown to being back on the road, no spares to buy and the pen-thusiastmobile lives to fight another day. Seriously though, I cannot praise Gary and the RAC enough - professional, courteous service throughout and my car fixed at the end of the job. Fantastic!

For some reason, as a result of Gary's attention, the 'mobile's engine sounds quieter now too, I wonder if it's anything to do with me breaking down outside a church?

RAC - Credit Where It's Due.

A Quart Into A Pint Pot

No. 4 Cat's been at it again! This happened this morning and I couldn't resist posting. You see, my darling daughter brought this box home yesterday for No. 4 Cat to shred, but No. 4 Cat's cannier than that.

She took one look at the box and, after giving it a good sniff, climbed aboard; it was like watching a contortionist as round and round she went, ever so slowly getting more and more of herself into the box. I have never before seen so much cat go into such a small space.


Just so you know, the box is 9" x 8" and around 3" deep and No. 4 Cat is...err...hang on, I'll measure her...

Ouch...hold still...no, come here...Oh, you...Ow, get your claws out of my arm...for goodness sake...Ouch...it's only a ruler...Ah, there we are...no, we're not...why, I oughta...will you please stop wriggling...there...finally...gotcha!

Ahem! *cough* No. 4 Cat is about 15" long from the tip of her nose to the base of her tail, which adds another 12" for a total length of 27" (all cat measurements are approximate!). Not huge, but neither's the box. And she's apparently not keen on rulers!

Band-Aid anyone?

A Quart Into A Pint Pot

No. 4 Cat's Guilty Pleasure

Now I like a cigarette as much as the next man, more than the next man probably as I still enjoy an occasional smoke. Yes, I know, filthy habit, doing me no good, I really should give up, blah, blah; but I digress...

No. 4 Cat is a recent addition to the pen-thusiast household following the passing of No. 2 Cat. She's a sort of 'patchwork' cat (brown and orange tabby, tortoishell and white) from our local branch of the RSPCA and, to be honest, she's a bit strange.


The RSPCA's vet estimated her age at about two years old but, having been an amateur cat-wrangler for more years than I care to remember, I'd put it closer to six months old. She spent her first week trying to sleep on my head and only slowly took to having her own bed; it was like having a baby all over again. She will only eat dry catfood I was informed and this turned out to be true, for about 30 seconds until she noticed No. 3 Cat's dinner - her favourite flavour is now whatever anyone else is having, wet or dry, she's not bothered as long as it's in someone else's dish!

Her favourite source of water is the toilet, and the less said about that the better. No. 4 Cat also likes cheese. Cheddar cheese mind you, and not the cheap stuff, oh no. She will actually fight you for a piece so cheese smuggling is the new pastime at Pen-thusiast Towers. She's also fond of the meat out of your sandwich, all the tastier if you've fallen for her, "Look! there's Elvis!" routine - by the time you turn round to see what she's looking at you're enjoying a sandwich sans filling, but that's not her guilty pleasure...

No. 4 Cat's guilty pleasure is cardboard. Boxes, sheets, the inside bits from toilet rolls, she loves it all. She actually hunts cardboard and will steal it given half a chance, and when she gets hold of some she sits up on her hind legs like a squirrel and calmly and methodically shreds it. She has such a blissful look on her face when she's doing it too.



All of which was fine until No. 4 Cat discovered cigarette packets. Empty ones are her preferred choice, but she's not averse to pinching a full one if there are no empty packets within easy reach; I have the sneaking suspicion she's in league with the 'Stop Smoking' lobby. It seems to be her sole goal in life at the moment to get to my cigarettes before I do, she doesn't eat them, just delights in shredding them into tiny, tiny little bits which she leaves in a neat pile on the floor, then sits next to the pile with her best, "Look what I've done, aren't I clever?!" face on.

Cigarettes are now kept under tighter security than the gold at Fort Knox and what with that, the cheese smuggling and No. 4 Cat's recent habit of lying in wait on the top of an open door for unsuspecting passers-by, Pen-thusiast Towers is a strange place to be at the moment.

No. 4 Cat's Guilty Pleasure

The Cat is Dead, Long Live the Cat.

After eighteen and a half years' sterling service, No. 2 Cat has passed away. He has expired, turned up his toes, snuffed it, shuffled off this mortal coil, gone to a better place. He is dead, deceased, stiff-as-a-board, in short, he is an ex-cat.



No. 2 Cat belonged to my wonderful wife, who got him from our local animal shelter. They said he was at least eight weeks old, our vet said four so we split the difference and said he was six weeks old. And when my wonderful wife brought him home, she neglected to mention he came with 'extras' - cat flu, ear mites, an eye infection and a very healthy population of the biggest fleas I'd ever seen. If we hadn't, at that time, qualified for free veterinary care he could have quickly become a 'Money Pit' of a cat, as it was our vet said the only treatment for his cat flu was a dose of full-strength medicine which would either kill or cure him, and could ultimately leave him with brain damage.

It was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through, the fleas, mites and infection were soon dealt with, though the cat flu medicine did have a lasting effect - for his entire life, No. 2 Cat thought he was a kitten. He just never grew up, he was the Peter Pan of cats.

No. 2 Cat's first meal with us was good old-fashioned British fish 'n' chips - I found him sitting on my plate, happily devouring my portion of cod. He ate the lot, which was no mean feat because he could fit in the palm of your hand at that stage. I didn't have the heart to stop him. After his tea, No. 2 Cat set off diagonally across the room looking like a furry tennis ball with a leg at each corner; it was only now we realised he couldn't walk properly, he used to go sideways while looking at where he wanted to go.

From those humble beginnings grew a wonderful cat who will forever be remembered with much fondness.

The Cat is Dead, Long Live the Cat.

Gas Attack

My darling daughter's just tried to poison me. There I was, minding my own business when I heard it. Psst, psst-psst-psst. No. 4 Cat shot off at the speed of light, she knows what that sound means. I was frantically reaching for my painter's face mask (kept handy for just such occasions) when the cloud of my darling daughter's new body spray wafted silently through the open door, meandered casually up my nose and began throttling the life out of me. I gagged. Till she got this new one, I'd never come across a fragrance that could exfoliate the surface of my eyeballs. I choked, she laughed, I choked some more. Can't...write...more...still...choking...

Gas Attack