Peculiarly Platinum

 

The UK is a peculiar place at the best of times but this weekend it is crazier than ever. 

In the past we have stupidly voted ourselves out of the EU and also elected a clown/scarecrow hybrid as our Prime Minister but at the moment, we are spending a hell of a lot of money to celebrate the fact that a 96 year old woman has reigned over us for 70 years. 

We have been given two extra days off to go mad – and some people have been doing just that.

Yes, it’s that time again in the UK where we can forget the fallout from the pandemic, the cost of living crisis that is making a lot of people struggle and insteead we can spend tons of money on a four day party to celebrate the 70th anniversary of a woman called Elizabeth Windsor ascending to the throne. 

Some people in the UK go absolutely bananas about royal festivals such as this and we’ve had our fair share of them over the past few years, with her golden and diamond jubilees and a couple of royal weddings thrown in for good measure.

Watching television at this time is absolutely dreadful. We become so jingoistic that I struggle to believe it. Every street has a Union Jack flapping in the wind and some pubs are covered in bunting to remind us all that we are British and eccentric.

So far I have largely managed to avoid the excessive coverage of the events, some of which Elizabeth cannot attend because, at the age of 96, she is feeling her age. She was out and about on Thursday for the ceremonial nonsense that she has to endure but she felt “uncomfortable” so she is missing the remaining events and her eldest son, the next king, will be attending as her representative. His name is Charles Windsor and he is an odd fellow but people seem to like him.

Now you are probably reading this and thinking that I don’t like the royal family. You would be wrong; I simply don’t care about them and if it were up to me I would just pay them off and let them live in peace and quiet somewhere, allowing them to escape the constant attention of the press under the proviso that I never have to hear about any of them ever again.

I know people who love them (they are called “royalists”) and these people become over-excited whenever a royal event like this happens. These are the people who dress up in Union Jack clothes, gush about the family saying things like “Oh aren’t they just WONDERFUL”. 

Such people queue up for days on the Mall in London just to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth and her family. If you ever see one of them being interviewed on TV, it is quite funny – and sad – to see them fawning in a sycophantic way that makes me want to throw up in a bucket. These people line up for days outside hospital waiting for a royal birth and then gush about the event as if the child were related to them.

Elizabeth is arguably the most famous person in the world and probably one of the richest. My feelings for her are the same feelings I have for any other 96 year old woman. She has done really well to still be compos mentis and mobile at her advanced age, and she has been on the throne for so long that I have never known another monarch. I guess that will change soon and we will see another bout of madness as royalists mourn her loss. 

I don’t wish her ill but I have to say I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why people seem to worship Elizabeth and her family. Some fellow Brits reading this might agree with me but I reckon that royalists will pour scorn on my words, even though I have not actually said anything bad. Why I should feel subservient to a woman who is where she is because of what she born is beyond me. I have no desire to ever meet her or any of here family and if I did I wouldn’t bow or prostrate myself in front of her. I would not call her “Your Majesty” or “Ma’am” and I may even ask her if she minded being called Liz or Betty.

The good thing about this mad weekend is that British people love a party and we have taken advantage of the time off work to meet family and friends and raise a glass to ourselves, rather than the monarch. Also, our lying clown/scarecrow hybrid of a Prime Minister was roundly booed when he arrived at a service yesterday – which shows me that the moron is as unpopular as ever, especially having lied to the British public so consistently over his period in office.

Anyway – there are still two days left of this craziness and it will hopefully be back to normality on Monday morning and we won’t have to listen to lots of old twaddle from royalists – well maybe we’ll still have to endure some of it I guess – it never really goes away. 

Anyway – for those of you who haven’t seen anything, here is a taste of the madness that has engulfed my country over the past day or two.

How To Speak British

English is a language that is widely used across the globe in Canada, the United States, Australia and many other places. However, I personally think that in the United Kingdom, where English originated, we have a kind of weird monopoly on crazy sounding words and phrases.

I have been to many English speaking countries on my travels and often been looked at strangely – not because I am a weird looking fella but because sometimes I forget that I am in a foreign country.

For example, in America I used the word “bloke” and received a rather strange look from the person I was talking to. I had to translate the word into American – I used the word “guy” instead. Had I been in Australia or New Zealand I would have been understood because “bloke” is used there too.

Nevertheless, there are some words that are quintessentially British or at least widely used in the United Kingdom and not generally in the rest of the English speaking world.

I thought I would compile a list of some  of these words, so that if you are ever unfortunate enough to meet me, you might actually understand what on Earth I am talking about.

I imagine that some of these words have made it across the pond or traversed the globe to Australia, New Zealand or South Africa – so some of them may sound familiar.

Arse – The equivalent in America is “ass” but in the UK it is used in a slightly different way. For example “I really can’t be arsed” means “I really can’t be bothered”. Also, if you describe somebody as “arseholed” or “rat-arsed” it means they are drunk.

Barmy – Foolish – but in a good way, I think. For example, if somebody I knew was about to go skydiving I would tell him to his face that he was “barmy” and he would laugh. It is also heard at football matches when fans of a team unite in a chant based around the manager of the team  - “Gareth Southgate’s Barmy Army!”

Blimey – An expression of surprise or alarm. “You’re going skydiving? Blimey!”

Bollocks (Dog’s bollocks) – This really refers to a man’s testicles but has become an expression of anger. “Bollocks! I’ve dropped my dinner!”. It is also used as a way of ridiculing something that somebody has said, for example “You are talking utter bollocks!” Conversely, if something is great it becomes “The Dog’s Bollocks!”. I’ve never figured that one out.

Chav – This is the equivalent of “white trash” in America. Chavs are typically lower class and behave badly, swearing all the time and causing trouble whenever they can.

Chin Wag – A conversation. “I’ve just been having a chin wag with my wife!”

Chuffed – Very happy or delighted. “I was really chuffed to have won the lottery!”

Cock Up – A massive mistake. “We lost the bid. What a complete cock up!”

Codswallop – Meaningless nonsense. “Piers Morgan’s speech was a load of old codswallop!”

Dishy – Strangely, this means attractive. “Morena Baccarin is really dishy!”

Faff – A phrase that really means to waste time. “Stop faffing around!”

Fag –I realise that this is a derogatory term for gay people in America but over here it is simply a slang word for a cigarette. Going for a smoke is known as “having a fag”

Gagging – I guess the closest  translation for this word is “desperate” as in “I am gagging for a beer.”

Gobshite – Basically this is a person who “talks bollocks” (see above).  “Piers Morgan is a gobshite!”

Gobsmacked – Astounded or surprised. “I was gobsmacked when the Americans elected Donald Trump”.

Kip – Sleep. “I’m going for a kip! Wake me up in an hour.”

Knackered – Tired. “I’ve just been to the gym and I’m bloody knackered!”

Lurgy – Any illness. “I think I’m coming down with a lurgy.”

Mug – A gullible person. “He conned me out of £10. I’m a right mug.”

Nosh – Food. “Where shall we go for some nosh?”

Numpty – A fool. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a numpty.”

Nutter – A mad person. I’ve mentioned that I am a nutter-magnet before – I seem to attract them. I’m talk about the kind of person who will hurl himself into a weird or dangerous situation without thinking of the consequences or somebody who simply talks gibberish.

On the piss – Getting drunk. “Where’s Dave? Oh – he went out on the piss with his mates. Don’t wait up for him; he’ll be rat-arsed.”

Quid – A pound sterling, our currency. “Can you lend me ten quid?”

Plonker – A clumsy idiot. “How did you manage to fall down the step you plonker?”

Scrump – Steal apples. “The farmer caught me scrumping from his orchard.”

Slapper – A promiscuous young lady. “She’s a right slapper. She’ll sleep with anyone.”

Tara – Goodbye. “See you tomorrow. Tara!”

Thingamajig - Something that you can’t think of the name of. “Pass me the thingamajig!”

Toff – A well-off person. Most members of our Conservative party and the Royal family are toffs.

Wobbler – This is really used to express a temper tantrum. “I told him he was wrong and he threw a wobbler!”

You may have heard of some of these words watching British TV programmes and movies and I recall hearing a couple of them on my visit to Australia. Hopefully, next time you meet a British person and think he’s speaking codswallop you will recall this post and be able to translate his words.

See you for the next post.

Tara!

Another Castle

Last year, in August, Mrs PM and I visited Warwick, another lovely little city in the centre of England.

Warwick is an amazing little city, actually, because it only has a population of just over 30,000 people yet has its own racecourse, a very highly thought of university and, probably most famously, a magnificent and very well preserved castle.

Both of us had ben to Warwick before and on that occasion we simply went for a racecourse meeting to celebrate a friend’s 50th birthday. Sadly we only went for the day and didn’t have time to really look around the city. This trip was our chance to finally explore that place.

Warwick is located in the Midlands and is only 40 miles away from my hometown of Walsall, about 19 miles south east of England’s second city Birmingham. The countryside around that area is beautiful and it is only a short hop to other places of interest like Royal Leamington Spa and Stratford-upon-Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare (we also visited there too but I’ll discuss that in another post).

We stayed in a small guest house about twenty minutes’ walk from the centre of the city. Thankfully the weather was kind to us and we were able to spend Saturday exploring the city centre. It’s not too big but it is very quaint and has a beautiful church.

After a nice lunch in a marketplace pub, we walked around a little more in the sunshine, peering into quirky little shops before returning back to the guest house.

In the evening we returned to the city centre and enjoyed another lovely meal in a gourmet pub that was really packed. Thankfully we had had the foresight to book a table. There is nothing worse than wandering around a strange city on a Saturday night looking for a restaurant; we’ve been bitten by that particular bug in both Bath and Cambridge.

The next day we returned to the city to have breakfast before chancing on a classic cars show in the marketplace, including a 1960s police car with a working siren that an exuberant child kept setting off, much to his parents’ (and everybody else’s) annoyance.

Finally, before leaving for the trip back to Manchester, we spent the rest of the day exploring Warwick Castle. I’ve been to many castles in England and Wales but I have to say that Warwick Castle is my favourite. It is certainly one of the most preserved in the country and still appears to be as grand as it was in its prime. There is a lot to do there, including exploring the grounds, entering the dungeon, a maze, a tower showing the history of the castle using some fairly impressive technology, a huge trebuchet (catapult), a jousting show, birds of prey and exploring the inside of the castle.

There were many visitors there on this warm Sunday afternoon from both the UK and the rest of the world. Although it is quite expensive, you can get tickets in advance with vouchers from in and around the city. We managed a good deal using a voucher that the owner of guest house had given to us the day before.

I would recommend paying a visit to the city, particularly if you are from overseas. To whet your appetite, here are a few photos of the castle.

A beautiful castle on a beautiful day

A knight in shining armour for Mrs PM

And if one isn't enough ...

My kind of library

A bath, madame?

Time for bed

Hills aren't a problem for a castle

A  bloody big catapult

A bloody big bird

A Castle

After two depressing posts, I think it’s time to add a little bit of joy to the proceedings.

This year has been shit but in the midst of the manure, I have visited a couple of great little places in England in my quest to see as much of my own country as possible.

The first place is Ludlow, a small market town hidden in the countryside of South Shropshire. It’s a wonderful little place with almost 500 listed buildings, i.e. buildings that have been added to the Statutory List of Buildings of Special Architectural or Historic Interest.

There is also an old medieval castle that has sadly fallen into decline over the years and while it is largely in ruins, it is still interesting enough to visit.

Ludlow is a lovely little town, filled with history and surrounded by verdant countryside that is excellent for a decent ramble on a Saturday morning; a great way to relax if you need to unwind after a stressful week at work.

Mrs PM and I spent the weekend simply walking around, visiting the castle and enjoying hearty English fare washed down with a pint or two of the finest English ale.

Ludlow is home to a couple of interesting structures.

First, Ludlow Castle, initially started way back in 1086, stands over the town like a silent sentinel. It’s fallen into disrepair over the years and is now largely in ruins. However, there is enough present for a stimulating visit.

Originating a couple of hundred years later, St Laurence’s church is also significant building and can be seen from most of the town.

If you are a fan of English architecture, you will love the place.

Here are few photos.

Mrs PM - A Damsel in Distress

A Knight to the Rescue

Finally, I encountered quite an interesting toilet in a pub (I’m sorry to discuss toilets again). This one had beer barrels as urinals with humorous little signs indicating how a man’s liquid waste product can be converted back into ale. I had to break men’s public toilet etiquette rules and risk being thought of as some kind of pervert by taking a photograph in the men’s loo. Thankfully I was alone when I did this. 

Here is the photo.

Which one is used for lager?

The things I do for this blog.

A Strange Family

Some people might consider me to be a bit strange but as far as I know my family history is a normal one. Of course, that might not be true and I may uncover some weirdness in my ancestors when I eventually get around to tracing my genealogy.

However, I doubt I will find anything as odd as the family that supposedly rule our country – the Royal Family.

People in Britain, either love them or loathe them. I’m indifferent to them if I’m honest.

Given our history, I find them fascinating in their eccentricity. Here are some odd things perhaps you never knew about the Queen and her clan.

Judge for yourself which one is the oddest.

(1) The Royal Family don’t have surnames. The Queen’s name is Elizabeth II and while she is supposed to belong to the House of Windsor, apparently nobody calls her Elizabeth Mary Alexandra Windsor.  When Kate Middleton married Prince William, she lost her surname (how careless) and became “Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge”.

(2) The Queen has won thousands of awards. Apparently Elizabeth has been awarded well over 380,000 honorary awards – for doing what I don’t know. I would imagine that smiling isn’t one of them because these days we rarely see her smile.

(3) It is illegal for anyone of her subjects to stand within 100 yards of the Queen when not wearing socks. I would love to see the powers that be enforce this law. Also, if you misuse a postage stamp containing the image of the Queen, it is considered an act of treason. I suspect this is why the Post Office has now made stamps sticky enough to apply to the envelope without licking it. Thank God for that! That sticky stuff on the back of stamps tastes disgusting.

(4) King Charles II decreed that there must be at least six ravens in the Tower of London because, he thought, that if they fly away then the monarchy will implode and fail and Britain will collapse in a heap of raven shit. I think politicians are doing a good job of trying to break Britain without these bloody ravens – but we won’t descend into politics at this stage.

(5) The Queen is the Duke of Lancaster, rather than Duchess. This is because Queen Victoria regarded a Duke as superior to a Duchess therefore gave herself (and all of those who would follow her on the throne) that masculine title.

(6) The Queen has two birthdays – her actual birthday in April and a made up (and more traditional one) in June. Lucky her!

(7) The Queen is not legally obliged to have a passport or driving license. She is the most travelled person in Britain, I guess and I have seen photos of her behind the wheel. I wonder who taught her to drive. I imagine that he was forced to pass her even if she was a terrible driver.

(8) It is illegal to die in any Royal building. That means the Tower of London isn’t a Royal building because Henry VIII had an absolutely amazing time butchering people there by proxy. It does make me wonder about what would happen were an MP to die in the Houses of Parliament. What can they do to him? Give him a jail sentence?

(9) The Queen no longer has any real power. These days that is up to the government or as she refers to it “my government”. When we go to war it is the Prime Minister who declares this – not the Queen. She has no say on the matter.

(10) The Queen owns all swans on the River Thames. These swans are actually marked with a ring. Moreover she owns all swans in open water in the UK – but perhaps it’s too difficult and dangerous to catch the nasty hissing buggers. Even more strangely she owns all sturgeons, dolphins and whales in British waters. So if a whale pops into our waters on its way to a holiday somewhere else, for that brief period of time, it is the Queen’s pet.

(11) Apparently the Queen can fire the entire Australian government. I doubt whether this is still true but she must have been sorely tempted to exercise this right when Tony Abbott was the man in charge down under. Sorry – shouldn’t do politics!

(12) The Queen is immune from prosecution. I suspect if she were to beat up Piers Morgan in a fit of rage (who wouldn’t want to do that?) she might be forced to abdicate. If she did that she would go up in my estimation.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg, folks. I’m sure if we delve deeper we can uncover even more weirdness and eccentricity.

I need to be careful though – as one of her “loyal subjects” I might end up in the Tower of London for this post.

 I’ll have to learn how to cook raven pie!

The City Life

My last post eulogised about the English countryside. I think it’s only fair to do the same for my adopted home city of Manchester.

Manchester is in the north west of England, not far from the Welsh border, about 35 miles east of Liverpool, 90 miles north of Birmingham and 200 miles north west of London.

I have lived in Manchester since 1984, that’s around 60% of my life. I was also born in a large town called Walsall, near to Birmingham, the second largest city in England, spending 18 years of my life there, before spending 3 years living in another magnificent city, one that you might have heard of called Liverpool, the birthplace of the Beatles and countless other bands.

What I mean is that city life has been good to me over the years and I simply love the vibe in all of them.

I often visit London too, as I have friends who live there and it is a short two hour high speed train journey away (I wouldn’t drive as that would take hours). In fact I’m heading that way next month for another university reunion.

Living in Manchester is fantastic, for the choice of restaurants and pubs in the city, as well as being served by the busiest airport outside London, a mere fifteen minute taxi ride from my house. It means that I can get away and enjoy travelling to foreign places should I so desire. There are hospitals nearby as well as sporting arenas. Manchester is home to two of the biggest Premiership football teams in the world, Manchester City and, the richest and most famous club, Manchester United. As well as football, there is a famous old cricket ground which is a venue for test cricket, as well as other sporting disciplines like rugby (both league and union).

We have the National Cycling Centre for those who like to ride their bikes at speed on a big circular track as well as speedway.

The city also contains lots of theatres and venues for one of my main passions – music. I have seen every one of my favourite bands in the city either in the enormous arena or one of the many other smaller venues around the city. 

We even have a Hard Rock Café.

I could go on, but instead, I thought I would share some photos of Manchester, plus one or two from London and Liverpool, in particular to give any foreign readers a taste of what it’s like to live in an English city.

I hope you like them.

Beetham Tower - the tallest building in the city

New and old Manchester together

Manchester Town Hall

New and old Manchester - I love Manchester

View from Beetham Tower

Another view from Beetham Tower

Yet another view from Beetham Tower

The Final view from Beetham Tower

The Liver Building, Liverpool as seen from the famous Ferry Across the Mersey

John Lennon statue outside the Cavern Club/Pub

You may recognise this bridge in London

Had I been alive in Henry VIII's time I might have ended up here waiting to have my head separated from my body

The Country Life

I live in Manchester, the third biggest city in England and, while I love the place and love city life, I sometimes forget about the rest of the country. Places like Manchester, Liverpool, London and Birmingham are sprawling metropoles, built up and beautiful in their own way.  The city is full of life, with every single activity you can think of resting gloriously at the end of your fingertips. The city is bustling full of people from all walks of life. City dwellers are rarely stuck for something to do.

City life is definitely not boring – that’s why I love it.

Yet there is a part of me that seeks tranquillity and as I get older, I find myself thinking about more serene pastimes and thankfully there are places close by where I can enjoy that side of life too.

Such was the case on my birthday a week or so ago. Mrs PM and I decided to explore an area of England that we had only ever seen through the windows of a car as we drove through it on our way from one city to another.

This time, I wanted to sample country life, the polar opposite of city life.

I have sampled this before, visiting areas like North Wales, the Lake District and the Peak District but I had never visited the Cotswolds, an area in the southern part of the Midlands, that covers six counties. It is located just south of Stratford upon Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare, in the north stretching as far as Bath in the south west and Oxford in the east. The maps below give you some idea of where it is.

I had been to Bath in the south but spent most of the time in the city itself rather than exploring the countryside. We chose the north part of the Cotswolds and a little town called Chipping Campden, with a population of just over 2,000 people situated 135 miles south of Manchester (around two and a half hours in the car).

Our accommodation was provided by a small hotel on the main street, which also doubled up as a pub and restaurant.

The first thing I truly noticed here was how calm, relaxing and peaceful it was. We had arrived fairly late and after the sun went down we went for a short stroll around the small town to get our bearings.

It didn’t take long.

The pubs and restaurants were housed in beautiful buildings made of a honey coloured stone that perfectly illustrated the stereotypical small English country town, complete with thatched cottages.

It was wonderful.

The next day we drove from Chipping Campden for a walk from the even smaller town of Broadway to Broadway Tower, a ramble through the Cotswolds countryside, a distance of around five miles. The weather, for once, didn’t let us down. I was expecting rain but all we had was a typical cloudy and slightly cold day but not one single rain drop ruined our walk.

On the way we saw magnificent views of the English countryside as we climbed to Broadway Tower, the second highest point in the Cotswolds. We stopped for coffee just before we arrived at the tower and listened to a conversation amongst a lively group of pensioners who were walking to keep fit. I was amused because they were all country folk and quite posh, discussing party politics and evangelising about the current Prime Minister and her ministerial appointments in a way that you would never hear on the streets of Manchester.

The view from Broadway Tower itself was wonderful and it wasn’t so high that it would trigger my fear of heights.

After the tower we walked back to Broadway, where we found small shops selling traditional country items, in particular tweed clothing that you would rarely seek in the cities. Moreover, to validate the twee image of the town, some of the people were also dressed like traditional country folk. We even saw a group of Morris dancers.

Later, in the evening, we had a hearty meal in a different pub in Chipping Campden before retiring for the night.

The next day, we enjoyed a full English breakfast served by a waiter who personified the traditional image of an Englishman, complete with polite comments and even a wry smile at one of my jokes, which exposed his true mask after trying to portray himself as formal with a stiff-upper lip.

I almost said “Caught you,” but opted against it after a level one look from Mrs PM.

Later we embarked upon a slightly smaller walk in the countryside surrounding Chipping Campden, passing some very nice and very large houses that probably served as country retreats for rich people living in the Birmingham and South Midland area. We walked past farms, through fields, along country lanes and public footpaths passing other walkers who greeted us with a pleasant “Good morning.”.

It was so peaceful and serene with clean country air, hardly a car in sight and a relaxed gentle atmosphere around the place.

Part of me wanted to stay, to become a member of the country folk and abandon the city forever. When I thought more about this, I realised that deep down I am a city man and I would have to say goodbye to this delightful area of England. The city offers so much more and I would miss that. Yet as I get older, I think I also need to immerse myself in the countryside more, spending weekends away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the hassle of work life. Such trips serve a perfect purpose; to calm me down and make me appreciate fully the country I live in.

Here are some photographs that hopefully give you some idea of what I am talking about.

A cottage in Chipping Campden

Broadway

Broadway Tower 

Just to prove that Broadway Tower is British

Spiral staircase in a turret

Dry stone wall

Strangely carved bushes

Chipping Campden Town Centre

A church in Chipping Campden

A lovely view of English countryside

I hope you like them.