Fuzeta are you better, are you well, well, well!

On returning from Portugal I find that the country has gone to the dogs.

Wales luckily defeat England at Twickenham, Boro extend their winning streak to six games only to be deducted 5 points by the FA for financial irregularities, the Welsh minnows Swansea beat the mighty Manchester City, whose players sitting on the bench are valued at more than the total assets of South Wales, and then, against all the odds, the young inexperienced Lions of England defeat the Frogs on their own patch.

Worst of all, Greene King, the brewery that changed their spots overnight from being a sleepy rural brewery in West Suffolk to a giant organisation hell bent on ruining the great English pub and beer tradition, have unveiled grandiose plans to convert The Fox, yes MY Fox!, to one of their pathetic “Greet and Eat” tart’s palaces!!!

And to cap it all our illustrious leader David Cameron has flown to America to meet with Mr. President, supposedly to plan their “End Game” in Afghanistan, but, with wife in tow, is swanning around in Airforce One watching grown men playing netball and what pearls of wisdom has he managed so far?

"He (Obama) is going to teach me how to fill in my brackets”.and

“Barack Obama has pressed the reset button on the moral authority of the entire free world.”

God help us!

I have to ask myself, “Why did I come back home?”

Which leads me back to our holiday.

We stayed in Fuzeta, a tiny fishing village situated in the East of the Algarve, in between Faro and Tavira, about 30km from the Spanish border and it was wonderful.

Fuzeta has two beaches. The first is a small beach on a lagoon in the town itself and is part of the Ria Formosa nature reserve which runs from Faro to Tavira.

The other beach is just across the lagoon on Ilha de Armona, accessible by ferry, extending left and right with miles of Atlantic sandy beach.

There are no hotels, no fancy bars, posh restaurant or theme pubs. No frills, just a few small street bars cafes, a daily indoor fish, meat and vegetable market and a couple of mini-markets. Being out of season it was very quiet and peaceful with very few tourists. The locals were very friendly and everything is ridiculously cheap, (litre of white wine 1 euro), and we brought back half of our euros.

There’s no bus service but an excellent rail link that runs right along the coast from Lagos in the west to Villa Real San Antonio on the Spanish border passing through Fuzeta.

The apartment we hired was superb, overlooking the lagoon and the nature reserve but only 10 minutes walk to the railway station, village square, beach and quayside.

If it sounds interesting, check out these links:


FUZETA VIDEO

APARTMENT

Nothing much happens during the day, the odd fishing boat comes and goes, and even less happens at night – except on Wednesdays!

On our first Wednesday evening we were sitting in a small bar on the quay called Bar O’Farol, basically an octagonal wooden hut, when the back doors were flung open and two burly locals started unloading drums, amplifiers, speakers and microphone stands.

Live music we thought, in Fuzeta, surely not. A scruffy local playing acoustic guitar perhaps, but not full electric band.

About half an hour later four long haired youths turned up and started tuning up their guitars and drums.

The bar started to fill up and in another half hour an elder guy arrived with two guitars and joined the group. We had seen him on several occasions walking his dog around the side streets.

It turns out that he is a top Portugese rock musician, born and still living in Fuzeta. His name is Domingos Caetano and is the lead singer and guitarist of a band called Iris. A few years ago he obtained a grant from the government to convert the disused cinema into a music academy and recording studio and aspiring young musicians from all over the Algarve come to the school for tuition.

So every Wednesday Domingos takes a few of his pupils to Bar O’Farol to give them the chance to play to a live audience.

By the time Domingos gets to the microphone the bar is packed.

“Hello, Hello, Hello,
Is there anybody out there?
Just nod if you can hear me,
Is there anyone home?”

Well, I had to pinch myself. Here we were in the sleepiest little backwater listening to live Pink Floyd music. And bloody good it was too. Domingos is an extremely talented musician and did most of the singing. He plays lead on the opening number then reverts to the bass or drums and leaves it to his young charges to take the leads.

What a great night, three hours of wall to wall Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Dire Straits and much more. Needless to say we were back for more the following Wednesday.

Here’s Domingos and Friends performing at Bar O’Farols:



Hey Ho!

Not quite a postcard from Malta

As the first month of 2012 is coming to an end I thought it was about time that I put fingers to keyboard and wish everyone a happy New Year.

As some of you know since my last entry in October we have been away quite a lot.

First we went to Cyprus, in November, to visit the Gilberts in Paphos including a week of doing absolutely nothing on the beach at Coral Bay. In fact I spent most of the week soaking up the sun and looking at my feet!

Paphos is a very easy going and relaxed place to live. For some locals however, it appears to be too boring – see this article from the Cyprus Mail of November 17th 2011.

Man Jailed for blasting co-worker’s rectum with air compressor

A CARPENTER’S assistant blasted pressurised air up his friend’s rectum, rupturing his large intestine, “because he was seeking a pleasant change that would break the monotony of hard work”, a Nicosia court has heard.

The foreign EU national, a 31 year old father of two, was jailed for 45 days last week after admitting that in October last year he had seriously injured his friend who required surgery and a lengthy stay in hospital to recover.

“The defendant’s idea to administer pressurised air into his friend’s anus is indeed original and in reality the thought of it provokes laughter, but putting the idea into practice ended up in tragedy for the victim and perpetrator,” the court said.

In the words of my dear old Mum, “Well I never, whatever next?” Indeed the mind boggles.

Moving swiftly on, at the beginning of December I met up again with the Welsh Bard. Together with John Garner, an old chum and colleague, we spent the day with Evans Above in a selection of pubs in Oxford. It was the first time the three of us had had a drink together for the best part of 35 years and a thoroughly good time was had by all.

At Christmas we spent three days with the family, staying at Lorna’s over the festive period before having 5 one night stays along the South coast, calling at Brighton, Eastbourne, Hastings and Rye finishing with New Years Eve back in Hastings.

Most notable was sharing a restaurant with John Altman (Nick Cotton from Eastenders) who was starring as the Sheriff of Nottingham in the Eastbourne pantomime, a very confusing hour trying to make sense out of an Andy Warhol exhibition at the De la Warr Pavillion in Bexhill (why are these “paintings so valuable?”) -

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-15039178,

and a much more interesting hour at an exhibition of original cartoons and scenes by the late John Ryan creator of Captain Pugwash, Harris Tweed Special Agent, Lettice Leefe and Sir Prancealot etc, at the Rye Art Gallery.

If you ever find yourself in Eastbourne looking for somewhere to stay, try this:

http://www.thebigsleephotel.com/home.asp?hotelid=4

It’s very modern in design, comfortable, cheap and the bar is open all night. The only downside is that it is owned by film actor John Malkovitch and there is a photograph of him above the bed in every room of the hotel. He is weird at the best of times but this photo was not taken on one of his good days.

Relating these experiences to the Welsh bard inspired this response:

Baltzer is one of those loons
Whose mornings, and some afternoons,
Are spent on the plot,
And when they are not,
He studies the phases of moons.

But, though he’s a crazy old fart,
He’s concealing a cultural heart...
He apparently swoons
Over Pugwash cartoons,
And claims Andy Warhol’s not art.

He’s not Brian Sewell, for sure,
But the art world deserves to hear more,
And soon we may see
ChrisB on TV...
So that’s what the pony tail’s for!

Finally, earlier this month we had a week in Malta staying all-inclusive in a hotel in Bugibba.

Never again! I have never eaten or drunk so much in my life. Suffice to say that on the first evening in the restaurant when asked whether we would like a drink, I asked for a red wine and a white wine and was promptly delivered a bottle of each!

Amazingly the first person I bumped into at the hotel bar was a friend and drinking partner from the Farnborough area, Alan Hope, better known as Howlin Laud Hope, leader of the Monster Raving Loony Party.

You may have seen him on TV or in the newspapers, if not, here's Alan:

The day before we returned I wrote this ode which I intended as an electronic postcard to be fired off into interweb, but in common with most of the Maltese infrastructure, the internet connection at and around our hotel was useless and my email access was limited to the North East corner of the hotel roof but only with a prevailing Westerly wind.

So I publish it here:

A WEEK IN BUGIBBA

I write for you, this latest missive,
From my Maltese All-Inclusive,
Through an alcoholic mist,
In truth I must confess I’m pissed.

When entering the hotel bar,
On the first day, for an early jar,
Who should I see so hale and hearty.
But Howlin Laud Hope of the Loony Party!

The hotel’s full, the joint is jumpin’,
There’s entertainment, music thumpin’,
All here with just the one intention,
To join the OAP’s convention.

There’s Jocks and Germans, Ecky Thumpers,
In baggy shorts and woolly jumpers,
They’re all so fat, a bunch of throwbacks,
A recipe for fatal heart attacks.

Three meals a day, all you can eat,
Soup, pasta, every kind of meat,
Salad, fish and then to follow,
Puds and custard, plates of gateaux.

There’s Stella, Cisk, all you can drink,
Fine wine, liqueurs and shorts to sink.
My stomach’s bursting, kidneys ache,
I’ve had as much as I can take,

So no more lager or cheap Bordeaux,
Goodbye brandy and ameretto,
Tomorrow we’ll be flying back,
Must leave you now, it’s time to pack.

Home to Blighty’s peace and quiet,
An ending to our “See-Food” diet,
It’s fish and salads all the way,
Then down the Fox at close of play!

We're off to Portugal for 2 weeks on February 20th and I wonder who I will bump into there.

This week I have started reaquainting myself with my plot which, apart from the odd visit to dig up parsnips, leeks and swedes, has been totally neglected since last October.

Hopefully the snow will stay away and I can spend a few hours a day clearing the weeds and digging it over. Unfortunately I am severely hampered by my right shoulder, an old injury, which has been playing up to such an extent that I have been referred to physio at the hospital.

Which reminds me I must close now and do my daily exercises!

Here's a little bit of Pugwash history to finish with:

And the winner of the Rushmoor in Bloom 2011 Best Allotment is ……………

……………. NOT me!

But I’ll go into that in more detail later.

Much has happened since my last entry and probably the most notable (and least interesting) was my attainment of Senior Citizen status, which passed by fairly quietly while on holiday in Spain.

Of course the Welsh Bard had to put fingers to keyboard in celebration:

I didn’t get where I am being blunt,

Or saying things I know I shouldn’t mention,

But Baltzer, you may grimace, even grunt,

To read this celebration of your pension!

I didn’t get where I am, nor did you,

By feeling old, except on mornings after,

So Chris, I think the only thing to do

Is treat this milestone with a dose of laughter!

I didn’t get where I am counting years,

Or checking dates, although I do remember

The last time that we shared a load of beers,

So, that’s what we must do before December...

I didn’t get where I am, knowing this -

That soon I’ll join you oldies on a pension,

So when we’re back from holidays, young Chris,

We’ll have to have a pensioners’ convention!

So at some date before Christmas we will be meeting up, probably in Reading, for a night of nostalgia (and a beer or ten).

Any of you who remember Paul, (well if you met him you’d hardly forget him!) and fancy a reunion, please let me know.

Incidentally after Paul left the sports centre “management” business he worked for Greene King for a number of years and is now in receipt of his Greene King pension which includes a regular monthly supply of 20% off beer tokens.

Now that’s what I call a pension!

Enough about being a pensioner, more interesting has been our redefinition of the term “long week-end” which now starts on a Wednesday and finishes on a Sunday or Monday. Even at my peak when I was in full time employment I never achieved a regular two day working week!

We certainly have made the most of the caravan this year and have had two really good holidays in Pafos and Nerja.

So no time for blog entries particularly as I have been “dongled-up” in Lesley on a netbook with tiny keys and small screen (the old peepers are not what they used to be) and a slow internet connection.

Another thing we have found out about Selsey is that it is almost always bloody windy.

Apologies to Michelle Shocked but ……………

Hey guys you know it’s kinda funny, Suffolk always felt so cold,

But you know you’re in the windiest place in the country,

When you’re, dongled-up in Lesley, West Sussex.

Whilst on the subject of internet connections here is another chapter from my forthcoming book, “Help Desks from Hell”:

“Following an extended stay, “on Dongle” in Lesley, we returned to Cotswold Towers to find that our BT "Always On" Broadband connection was "Always Off".

I gave it 24 hours then "Dongled up" my netbook and went to the BT support site.

I followed all the checks, disconnected the other phone extensions, swapped the filter box over but still "Always Off".

The next check was to enter my phone number and have a line check performed.

Easy enough - "0127631275" .................

"ERROR =PLEASE ENTER A VALID PHONE NUMBER"

Bloody useless.

Against me better judgement and knowing, after my dealings with other large organisations, that 0800 is the international dialling code for Calcutta, I then phoned BT Support.

My worst fears were confirmed:

"Good afternoon Sir, Rajid here, how may I be helping you today".

After what seemed like 30 minutes of confused conversation we established that there may be a fault in the NE Hants area and I should try again later.

I then went on the attack:

"And another thing, your bloody support web site is useless. The line check software doesn't recognise my phone number - 0127631275".

"That is because you will be entering only a five digit telephone number, Sir"

"Correct, I have a bloody 5 digit phone number".

"I am not understanding that Sir but I will be reporting this issue to our software supporting team. 100 thank yous, Sir, for reporting this unfortunate situation.

Is there anything else I can be helping you with this afternoon, Sir?"

" Yes, just get my bloody broadband working"

Phoned slammed down.

5 minutes later Rajid called me back and confirmed that there was a reported fault in my area of Hampshire and experienced BT engineers were working on it, around the clock, as he was speaking.

Now here's the good bit .............

He then suggested that I poke a needle or something sharp into a small hole in the side of the BT Hub and hold for 30 seconds to reset the equipment. Dutifully I searched around for needle and did what he instructed.

All it achieved was to draw blood from my thumb!

I politely asked him if this was BT's definition of leading edge technology.

He ignored this and told me that if it wasn't working in 24 hours I should be repeating this stupid exercise and see if that solved the problem.

I had been, in my humble opinion, very patient with him up until that point in our discussions but my patience finally broke and I lost it.

"If I am still not connected in 24 hours I will be back on the F-----g phone demanding to speak to your bosses, bosses, boss! I pay top dollar to be "Always On" and want a refund for every minute that I am off the air."

This rattled him and he began to get angry but I was not in the mood for further exchanges and hung up.

The following morning I was "On" then, after an hour, I was "Off". Since then my broadband has been up and down like a whores drawers but this morning, 5 days later I have been connected at least long enough to respond to the backlog of emails that had built up over the previous week.”

Moving swiftly on to the football front, it’s been all change for Boro this season. With a new manager, a complete new squad of full time players and a new chairman. Never being in Farnborough on a Saturday, I have yet to watch a game but considering the average age of the first team squad is 19 they are doing reasonably well and if they can keep the core of players together should be there or there abouts next season.

Super Blues seem to have recovered from an indifferent start and having sheared up the defence following the 7-0 drubbing by Peterborough, they are on bit of a roll, notably the away win at Upton Park, and are charging up the table.

Whilst in Nerja last month I came across this article, reproduced from the Guardian, in the in the Costa del Sol News "Spain in the UK Press" section:

Getafe fans urged to become sperm donors and breed more supporters

In a desperate bid to build its fan base, Spanish football club Getafe has released a video urging fans to become sperm donors in order to breed more season ticket holders.

The tongue-in-cheek video opens with a fan in front of an empty stand under the words "There's a problem: there aren't many of us".

Then the voiceover tells us there is a solution as the camera pans to the fan's crotch. We next see him in a sperm donor clinic collecting a plastic container. He is handed a DVD entitled Calientes de Getafe (Getafe's Hot Zombies).

The film shot in the style of a 1970's porn film shows young women in a room whose walls are covered with Getafe posters, flags and scarves, drinking a potion that turns them into sex mad zombies, The idea is that the DVD is so erotic that the donor has no difficulty in making his contribution.

Marketing director, Jose Antonio Cuetara, is optimistic, "If the campaign is a success we'll have to build a bigger stadium," he said.

Bloody hell, if they tried this with Farnborough season ticket holders, whose average age must be nearing 70, they would have to build a bigger cardiac arrest unit at Frimley Park!

Finally onto the sad subject of the Rushmoor in Bloom 2011 awards.

I returned from Spain expecting to find an invitation to the prize giving but no such letter. I checked the website and found that the award ceremony was to be held that night. Surprised that I had obviously missed out, but in fairness I had spent little time at the allotment over the previous 4 months, I thought nothing of it.

Last week I had occasion to visit my allotment "buddy" Big Sav,

I was greeted by Sav and his partner Sheila both wearing Cheshire cat grins and suppressing laughter. After 5 minutes of small talk he could wait no longer and amid raucous laughter, pulled out of a large brown envelope a Silver Gilt Award to Mr. Mike Savage Plot 23A Prospect Road Allotments.

I did not join in the laughter.

My plot is 24A and next to it is 23A, which I share with Sav. One half is dedicated to potatoes and my half which adjoins plot 24A is just an extension of my allotment.

Plot 23A is in his name and the potatoes, mistakenly, received the Silver Gilt award.

I have of course been on the phone to Rushmoor Council Allotment department and had the matter clarified.

A Silver Gilt Award is in the post to me.

Somewhat of an anti-climax, not the least of which is not having my photo taken with the new mayor.

Off to Lesley again tomorrow, Must make the most of it, only 3 weeks left before the site closes. Then it’s off to Pafos again on the 2^nd for two weeks.

Have seen some great entertainment at the site this year – Ben E King, Alan Price, Manfred Mann with both Mike Darbo and Paul Jones, Jaki Graham. Angie Brown, Incognito and last week, one of my favorite British singers, Chris Farlowe, whom I used to see regularly in Ipswich with Albert Lee and the Thunderbirds.

Remember "Out of Time"?

Although nearly 71 he can still sing out of his boots.

Here something to remind you: