Jill Sparrow

Their cat likes me, Beekay!

You are honoured, Colly! Friends of mine have a plaque in their window... IF OUR CAT DOESN'T LIKE YOU, WE PROBABLY WON'T EITHER!

The Dalai Chulla would also be proud of you! Those in saffron robes advocate non violence towards all forms of life!

They do say charity begins at home!

Been to Llangollen and have friends in Machynlleth. Someone told me Mold was nice. Never been there but it has to be better than Mould!

Hope Phil's wife has ironed his nightshirt and pointed nightcap! Humbug for pudding, is it?

By the sound of it, you should be clutching a bowl of thin gruel, muttering, "Are There no prisons?" and keeping an ear open for the sound of clanking chains!

Yes, and I'll bet he can reel off a list of female customers who purchased a pound of tub butter and got a free chat up line!

I believe the actor Paul Scofield was a resident of Balcombe and loved the place so much he didn't want to leave. He's buried in the churchyard, I think.

I don't see the problem. At least they're not going to be noisy!

I quite like the idea of garden burial. Depends on the water table, I believe. Used to know someone who lived in an old cottage. It had belonged to a Quaker lady centuries earlier and she was buried somewhere in the garden. No one knows where. My friends had a number of dogs during their time there but none ever unearthed any bones!

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, that the earth which held the world in awe Should patch the wall to expel the winter's flaw! Shakespeare puts it aptly, as usual.

Agree entirely, Loppy. Too many undertakers preying on the consciences of vulnerable people at a sad time. My mother used to say we should spend time with people and take them flowers while they were here, not to their funeral. I'm of the same opinion. When I've finished with my overcoat, people can take any bits they want and chuck the rest. I plan to be otherwise engaged!

He started charming the ladies when he was born, Trogg! Must have been a seasoned heartbreaker by the time he started school!

My father, born 1924, was a Magnet and Gem addict. He taught himself to read with these weekly papers for boys before he ever went to school. Even in old age, he was still collecting the annuals and doing an hilarious impersonation of Ram Jam Singh and the crew. Political correctness was not in dad's vocabulary!

Bottom of Diamond Avenue, if I'm not wrong. Right next to the worst set of traffic lights in the UK. Let half a vehicle through every 30 minutes! Avoid like the plague! The rest of Kirkby has been either pedestrianised or converted to charity shops.

A friend and former colleague of mine did her teacher training in the same place. It was rough indeed! Did part of my teaching practice in Whitby at a time when the old fishing community was still alive and kicking. The grandmas were extremely fearsome! The lengths they went to to protect their grandsons had to be seen to be believed. The granddaughters, on the other hand, were regarded as worthless.

There's a Robin A Soar, born Nottingham in 1941. Married Madeleine B Dewhurst in Grimsby in 1962. No record of a death that I can see unless it's quite recent.

Nice to hear you barking again, Loppy. Don't forget to share your bones, if you find any!

Sad news, Mary. My sister is 69 today. Makes you think, doesn't it?

Ben, when your time comes, we'll rewrite that old song from Oklahoma just for you. Something along these lines... I'm just a boy who cain't say no, Kissin's my favourite food with or without the mistletoe i'm in a holiday mood. other boys are coy and hard to catch but other boys aint havin any fun every time i lose a wrestling match i have a funny feeling that i won although i can feel the undertone i never make a complaint till its to late for restraint then when i wanno i caint i caint say no

Sounds like SG has the equivalent of the Pope!

SGs post reminded me of one evening when I still lived at Bobbers Mill. I was reading in the spare bedroom and just happened to see something move in my peripheral vision. It moved very quickly along the floor near the skirting board and my initial thought was a mouse, based on its size. I turned my attention away from the book and toward the scampering creature. It wasn't a mouse. It was the biggest arachnid I have ever seen. Ear spitting scream brought my mother racing upstairs. She almost fainted when she saw it. Eventually, my father arrived, complete with usual sarky commen

Shame on you, FLY2! I don't like spiders but would never kill one. Bad karma. If you have cats, they usually sort out the spider problem. Cats have to sort out their own karma but usually come up smelling of roses!

Young Trogg, you must be right peed off about that!