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Rants...

By A S Wilkins, Jun 10 2015 01:55PM

Wishing you all a very Happy and Senseless New Year! Well it would be impolite of me not to…


Various ‘other’ commitments made it a little difficult for me to be as proactive as I’d liked to have been during 2014, which has not been good for my senseless soul. Those that know me well, appreciate I thrive on witty banter and impromptu retorts. But there is also my charming persona, over at CharmingMan.com, who demands my attention and, more often than not, claims it. Indeed, 2015 promises to be a busy and exciting time for The Charmer as he endeavours to deliver more of his sensual prose. There is even talk of a public appearance at The Orchard Book Club Author Event & Ball in Peterborough in March - there you go, CM, you’ve been duly plugged, as promised.


However, while pondering the traditional ritual of New Year’s Resolutions, ASW (lest we forget the guv’nor of all this), Charming Man and I laid our cards on the table and set about divvying up our resources for the coming year, each of us keen to claim as many slices of the time-pie as possible; much like squabbling politicians fighting over the fiscal budget. I’m happy to report that the trizophrenia (have we just invented a new word?) coalition has voted unanimously in favour of both ASW and myself getting more pie, rather apt really, considering the over-indulgences of the past couple of weeks.


OK, I hear the doubting Thomas’s sniggering in the cloisters; yes you may have heard it all before. Resolutions are made to be broken at some point during the year; we make them flippantly while taking down the Christmas decorations. January and February are emotional months for the guv’nor, as some of you may know, so thoughts of any serious resolutions are always more relevant. As I ponder the structure of this very sentence, the ticking of the clock on my office wall poignantly reminds me… Just get the f*** on with it…


And I am…


I spent a relatively quiet Christmas at my parents, with my sister and her husband, my partner and our combined children. None of us are getting any younger, especially my parents, and it was great to simply chill and reminisce. My mother and father celebrated their 56th wedding anniversary during the festivities. The standing joke in our family has always been that my mother struck while the iron was hot, and marched my father down the aisle while he nursed a Boxing Day hangover. It was quite an eye-opener observing my father and son exchanging quips as we tucked into the Christmas fayre round the family table. I was not to be outdone of course, often egging them both on. Three generations of wannabe comedians giving it large! Nothing unique going on, I’m sure. Aliens spying through my parent’s dining room window would’ve surely observed similar goings on through every other window they peered. For one thing is as true today as it’s always been, in my humble opinion. Despite the doom and gloom, the natural disasters, sinister misdemeanours, double dip recessions and an ever depressing Eastender’s storyline (apologies here, I really haven’t got a clue, it just sounded good), love and laughter make the world go round. And, for the benefit of both Charming Man and Stop making Sense, long may it continue to do so!


Did I say three generations of wannabe comedians? While my parents reminisced over 56 years of marital bliss, my dearly departed grandparents were often mentioned, adorable people who led simple lives and thrived on love and wholesome family values. We recalled the Christmas the entire family gathered under one roof, and my cousin, in his early twenties at the time, ate something that caused his lips to swell to an unfathomable size. Undoubtedly an allergic reaction, we were all at a loss to work out what it was, especially as no-one else was affected. Visibly distraught, he blubbered profusely, none of us able to understand a word he was saying through the inflammation. The more agitated he grew, the more humorous the situation became. Every member of the family had tears of laughter rolling down their faces. His condition prevailed long after the Christmas pudding had been devoured and the Queen had delivered her annual stand up routine. He was not a happy bunny, which had a rather sobering effect on us all; clearly something was wrong. Telephone calls were made, neighbours were consulted. This was days of yore, Google was but a twinkle in the eyes of Larry Page, and the library was shut. While deliberating whether the situation warranted a trip to A&E, my cousin unexpectedly let rip the most almighty fart, so long and loud that it silenced the room. He blushed with embarrassment as all eyes fell upon him. Slowly, we turned to my grandmother, knowing how she detested such vulgarity. She stared at him sternly… And with perfect comedic timing, she said:


“Your lips have gone down…”


The clock is ticking… Until next time… Rant over…




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