Scene from a Bakery

When I went to the bakery down the road to get a Belgian bun for lunch, the chap ahead of me in the queue was large, be-tattooed, be-ringed, and asking for a jam doughnut. It was for his dog, he told the amused cashier. The dog is five. And will be having steak for dinner. The man also bought a gingerbread flower. No clue as to who that was for.

PATTOTE: Better living through Romans. Crazy. These.

Songs to live by

By all accounts my grandpa was a skillful grandfather. He had a wealth of songs (some made up, some embellished, some invented) that have been passed on. I remember him whistling bagpipe tunes, doing magic tricks, and coming up with nonsense rhymes. I've been thinking a lot about the songs that he sang, and which my mother sang to us as well. We're not entirely sure how much was of his own invention, how much of it he learned in the army, and how much he was just repeating. Family history is murky at the best of times. Looking the lyrics up on the internet has turned up some variations as well, which are funny to see.

I would just hate to see any of it be lost. So here are some of the songs I can remember:

An Old Maid in A Garrett
Oh I've often heard it said
By my father and my mother,
Going to a wedding's the making of another.
If that be true then I'll gang without a bidding,

You ken wee Elize?
I found her in a midden,
Singing "Oh, dear me".
What will you do if I be an old maid in a garrett?

There was my sister, Juanita,
She was handsome and goodlooking,
Scarcely sixteen, and a laddie she was courting,
Now she's twenty-four,
With a son and a daughter,
And I am forty-two and I've never had an offer
Singing "Oh, dear me".
What will you do if I be an old maid in a garrett?

I can wash, I can sew, I can keep a household tidy,
Rise early in the morning, and make the breakfast ready.
There's nothing in this wide world, would make me half so cheery,
If some nice young man would call me his wee dearie singing "Oh, dear me".
What will you do if I be an old maid in a garrett?
(Without a shirt)

Without a shirt was the traditional ending to any song Grandpa happened to be singing. I don't know why, it was just one of those things. Also, I lay no claim to the inherently sexist lyrics, I am simply repeating the words. They amuse me deeply.

Mummy says
Mummy says, out you go
With your father's dinner-o
Champit tatties, beef and steak,
And a wee bit corn cake.

Came to a river and I couldn't get across,
Paid ten bob for an old blind horse,
Jumped on his back and his bones gave a crack,
Played on the fiddle till the boat came back,

The boat came back,
and we all jumped in,
Boat capsized
And we all fell in

Singing don't be weary,
Try be cheery,
Don't be weary,
for we're all going home,

My father was a fisherman
And he caught a trout,
Says I to the trout:
"Does your mother know your out?"

Singing don't be weary,
Try be cheery,
Don't be weary
for we're all going home
(Without a shirt)

I always liked this one, but The Sister doesn't. Probably because of the horse's bones cracking!

McCann
I'll knock a hole in McCann,
for knocking a hole in me can.
McCann knew,
me can was new,
and only in use for a day or two.

I lent me can to old McCann
to go for a can of stout.
McCann came running home and said
me can was running out!

I actually don't know if this was one of Grandpa's. The Mother may have learned this at Guides. The Family Songbook has much to thank the Guides for; many of our ditties came from them.

It's strange but nice knowing that my grandpa taught my mother these songs, she taught them to us, we'll teach them to our kids. I'm sure my cousins remember them as well. It connects us, even though we don't know each other. If anybody remembers all the words to The Parcel that came to McRory, please send up a flag!

Big ups to my baby

Even if he is behind bars. Listening to a call-in show on the radio on Saturday, a woman came on asking for a shout-out to her boy.

Presenter: "Where is your boy?"
Call-in person: "He's in the penetentiary, but I visit him, I'm waiting for him."
Me: "Whaaaaaaa?"

I didn't know people actually did that.

PATTOTE: Better living through soundproof cars, so nobody could here my reaction to the crazy call-in person.

Snarky cricket moment #6

Commenting on the "controversial" Shaun Pollock/Kevin Pietersen run-out, the panel was questioning why Pollock was running towards the ball when Pietersen crashed into him.

"Because in cricket, that's what you do," said Nick Knight pithily. "You run towards the ball."

PATTOTE: Better living through anything that takes Pietersen down.

I'm overthinking this

Or am I? I'm going through this whole recruitment thing, and today I turned down the chance to apply for a job with a publishing house. I would be a 6-month contract working on publications for the British Army, their recruitment stuff in other words.

There's not a chance I'd do it; I'd feel horribly guilty the entire time. But at the same time, I really want a job, this was an opportunity to possibly get a job, and I don't want the recruiter to think I'm being ridiculous, even if I don't think I am.

PATTOTE: Better living through...what? Sorry? I was overthinking something.

See Liz Run

I do a lot of narrating in my head. I can't just let my thoughts be all stream of conscious-like. Instead, I edit my thoughts into neat little quotes. Like when I'm buying milk:

"Oh, look, there's the skim. What is the difference between skim and semi-skim?" she asks absently.

"That's 20p apparently. TWENTY PENCE. Do you have 20p? Yes, you do. And also, strangely, some Mozambique change you don't need. You should get rid of that. I'll do that when I get home. Oh, who am I kidding? You have the memory of a gnat. There's no way you'll remember," she says disgustedly.

Those mixed pronouns are lifted directly from my memory.

She says, worried.

PATTOTE: Better living through my eventual domination of all things, she says assuredly.

I'm sure she doesn't care...

...but I left home in a hurry today and didn't say goodbye to the dog. I doubt she minds, she's probably ensconced on a couch by now, but I feel bad.

PATTOTE: Better living through feeling guilty, even if the labrador doesn't give a toss.

Snarky Cricket Moment #5

Commentator David Lloyd is my new hero. During tonight's ritual humiliation of the West Indies, he remarked of Herchelle Gbbs: "In the mood he's in, he might just score a seven!"

PATTOTE: Better living through cricket, even if 20/20 is mostly a waste of time. I mean dancing girls. Pfffft.

A Blinding Realisation

It suddenly occurred to me today, it suddenly became very clear to me today, that my childhood is completely over.

I don't know why it felt so important to realise this. I've been an adult for quite some time now - I've paid bills, fed myself, taken care of a dog, moved myself overseas, survived to tell the tale.

Maybe it's post turning-26 malaise?

I'm completely and incontrovertibly an adult now. This is it. For the rest of my life.

PATTOTE: Better living through living, I hope.

A Crow Symposium

On my way to work this week, I stumbled upon a field full of crows. There were thousands of them circling and jostling. It was menacing actually. I imagine the field has just been turned and every crow in Berkshire decided to descend on it. Or maybe, and this is just a theory, maybe it was a meeting of the finest crow minds. Maybe they had gathered there to decide on a roadmap for the crow way of life? Maybe there were two factions (Those for Cawing, or Those Against)? Maybe they were plotting how to raise the profile of crows in other societies? Crowing over people, eating crow, skinny as a crow - damaging political statements all.

PATTOTE: Better living through dive-bombing crows. Was it crows or blackbirds that were baked into that pie?