One of them, and I protest my innocence here, is prostitution.

Most of the time, when I’m running the gauntlet between the station and the bus stop, there is the usual nonsense of asking me if I have a “spare cigarette” (I may do a complete post just on the put down lines I use in answer to that question) but this time was different!

She approached from the shadows and I fully expected the standard line but instead she said: “Is it ok if I just talk to you for a minute?”.

Taken aback I replied by saying “About what?”

“I just want to pretend that I’m talking to you for a minute”

At this point I started to get a bit worried. Who did she think was watching her have a pretend chat with me? The police? A crazed pimp? Who?

She then delivered one of those lines you could only dream about.

“Only…. I think I’m being followed by a dwarf!”

Well I couldn’t help having a look up and down the road. I couldn’t see anything and strangely didn’t feel surprised by that.

After a few seconds she said that she thought he’d probably gone and went on her wobbly way.

Why me readers? Why is it always me? Answers on a comment please…

Over the past few years I seem to have been attracting women. “Isn’t that a good thing?” I hear you asking. Well not really Readers.

These women have sussed me out as the kind of fella who will part with a cigarette and not accept any remuneration, whether it was offered feebly or not.

Two recent incidents spring to mind both involving train journeys, but in rather differing circumstances.

About 3 or 4 months ago I was forced to take the train to work (and back). On the homeward journey there was a 20p saving to be had by walking through one of the lesser known streets behind Piccadilly Station, to a bus stop on the corner of Pollard Street. So there I was, minding my own business, and having a smoke. Not paying that much attention I was startled when a woman’s voice asked if she could “buy a cigarette”. As always, I said she could just take one. Then she asked for a light and obviously I cracked the age old gag and asked her “Shall I smoke it for you too?”.

Lit up and half turning away she then asked if I fancied a “b**w j*b”.

As always I was quick as a flash with my rather pathetic answer which was “Oh no it’s too cold!”

The really sad part to that story is that she even offered to reduce the price to £5.00! At the risk of getting serious it really is sad that someone can be reduced to that for a fiver.

The thing that made me remember that story was the second incident. I had just got off the train from Schiphol to Amersfoort. Despite the fact that the great outside world was about 1 minute’s walk away I felt obliged to stop at a Rookzone for a Rook (please see previous post on Rookzones).

Just after I had lit up, a girl of about 17 or 18 came up to me and started babbling in Hurdy Gurdy. After telling her loudly and slowly that she would have to have another crack at that in the Queen’s English, it translated into something quite familiar: “Do you have a shigarette pleash?” Again I did the necessary thinking that things were the same the world over.

This time though the supplementary question was a bit different than the Pollard Street experience. “Do you alsho have one for my friend?” – Lippy these Dutch!

Anyway I enjoyed a couple of minutes chatting to them both about Big Red and then proceeded to walk the wrong way down the platform, having to do a U-turn and walk past them again (for they were still enjoying their free rook) dragging my mulberry coloured suitcase behind me. It amused them a bit but I’d prefer that to the first experience any time.

So has someone secretly tatooed “Free Fags Here!” on my forehead. What’s it all about?

Answers on a postcard please!

Not only has it been decided that my conquest of Europe should continue, I’ve actually been given a new role which will see me visiting my cheese-eating cousins more and more often.

I’m even learning German one phrase at a time and can now fluently tell people that I’m knitting a scarf, and that they are just lazy! In truth I did learn German at school many years ago but I can only remember one phrase and there are limited opportunities to practice asking someone for the quickest way to the tram stop.

Anyway back to Schiphol …

You know those moving walkway, travelator kind of things? Ever been briskly walking along on one when it suddenly stops – lurching foward as a result?

Ever been walking along one that HAS stopped only for it to suddenly spring back to life – this time throwing everybody backwards?

Ever been walking along one that HAD stopped and THEN sprung back to life, only for it to stop again – throwing everyone forward for a second time?

I have !

No-one sprang out with a microphone so I guess it was all to do with technical stuff, but there was a point where I was scanning the place for hidden cameras. I guess I’ll just have to wait to make my TV debut – think I’ll apply to go on “Who wants to be a Millionaire”.  

 http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=CLUAbkRUvVQ

Good ad! Very creative!

I think the point though is to show us how brilliant the colours are when watching on a Sony Bravia. But I’m not am I ? So how can I see? 

The colours look fine on my telly and even not too bad on pc when looking at it on Youtube. But how can I be sure?

I need to get a Bravia and quick! I need to get one before they stop showing the ad or I’ll never know.

What with new specs in December AND a Bravia the world will look very different for me soon. I’ll let you know!

I was mildly interested in seeing for myself where “celebrities” come from. You know, what makes them tick and all that. Whether the stock they are from has some kind of totally transparent “celebrity gene” running through it. That they could almost not help becoming famous because it was in their blood.

Or whether the advice given to me years ago, when nervously preparing for a meeting with the CEO at Great Universal, held good and that everybody, whatever they do, are just normal people who’s life has mapped in a different direction to your own.

Then came the families of Zoe Ball and Louisa Lytton!

Proof positive that it is just not possible to generalise.

With the possible exception of Johnny Ball (Zoe’s Dad) who, by definition, is already a celebrity (although I couldn’t guess how far down the list he is at the moment) both of the above were surrounded by half-wits and buffoons.

The people making up these families were not “just normal people” at all. In fact they were about the most abnormal collection of people I’ve seen since going for an interview once at a mail-order company specialising in supplying the transvestite market – I’ll tell that story sometime.

Good old Johnny, despite his celebrity status, even managed to set the tone by answering the question “Name something you would take the top off” with the answer “Peanuts”!!! Now call me old-fashioned but that’s not the sort of answer an esteemed scientist should be delivering to a prime time TV audience – and on this occasion that stands for television! And why did he keep on doing really bad “comedy falls”?

One of Ms Lytton’s relatives, when asked to name a British airport, thought the best answer might be Luton. Oh really ? 

The rest were just airheads pumping out inane drivel and making me wonder how else I could fill the gap between the two X-Factor programmes.  

Maybe something constructive like poking a fork into my temples. It did cross my mind.

Anyway, I now have a whole week to find something else to do in that time. Any suggestions ? Answers on a postcard please …….

“Well done with the shirts. Just hope the soap doesn’t smell of cabbage! Game not started yet, will let u know the outcome”

All fairly random stuff but, at the time, quite meaningful and a little amusing.

Imagine my surprise when, a few hours later, I received the exact same message again. Oh how I chuckled as I thought she had inadvertently sent it twice. It was even mildly amusing when it arrived for a third time. Less so on the fourth as I was beginning to realise that Vodafone like to charge me a roaming fee for receiving text messages whilst outside of Blighty.

By the 8th time it arrived I was beginning to get a bit narked.

My blood was boiling as it landed for the 13th (and final) time whilst I was eating some very nice meatballs with spaghetti at Schiphol – very spicy! You only got two meatballs but they were about the size of a small fist.

It actually made me laugh the first time it arrived but that had long since worn off. Laura’s comedic talent clearly does not have the same longevity as say, the second series of “The Office” which I watch constantly – and still laugh at.

I’m waiting for the bill now from Vodafone to see just how much that little Dutch chuckle is going to cost me. This story is going to run I think because I’m actually looking forward to having some “conversations” with them as we argue over the £4.90 or whatever it turns out to be.

I’ll let you know how I get on.

Just as a little P.S. to this story. I was driving to work one day last week and GMR were covering the story about us now sending more SMS messages in a week than we did in the whole of 1999. Eamonn O’Neal asked listeners (of which I was one) to forward the last text message from their phones. I, of course, chose Laura’s masterpiece (even though, strictly speaking, it wasn’t the last) and just forwarded it in. No names, no pack-drill!

Did they read it out?

Of course they did!

Once?

Of course not!

3 times between 7.45am and 8.15am!

Am I missing something here ?

Very nice restaurant (Lounge Ten) although they will probably not win any prizes in the “making people fat competition”. Posh though ……………………

Tall food with drizzles and dabs. You know the kind where all of your dinner is hidden under your meat!

A magician coming around the tables doing sleight-of-hand card tricks.

A couple of different people warbling out some nice tunes.

Then I needed to “dilute the Domestos” and that’s when I really knew I had been transported into a parallel posh world.

Having found the convenience (which turned out to be uni-cycle) I was a bit taken aback to find two ladies sitting in there on a sofa. One wearing a flowing gown and a scarf on her head (like she was a gypsy or something) and the other looking like a dead ringer for everyone’s Aunty Marjorie.

Aunty Marjorie directed me to a choice of two traps telling me that both were available. Fortunately, I only wanted a wee or I’m certain I would have struggled to perform, knowing that the Snoop Sisters were sat happily chatting just outside my stall.

Job done – obviously paying careful attention to aim – I left the sanctuary of Trap 2 and headed for the wash basin. Aunty Marjorie beat me to the sink, turning on the tap and handing me a clean towel. I stared at the saucer of tips by the sink, pondered for a minute, and then decided to treat her in the same way I treat those guys who jump out at traffic lights and clean your windscreen. I paid !

It turned out that the other lady was there to perform Tarot and Palm readings. Right there in the cludgie!

Not really interested in that kind of stuff, particularly at £40 a touch but you have to admit ………………… that’s posh ! 

I completely missed the fact that the England squad adopted Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” as their battle-cry – well there wasn’t that much coverage on either CNN or those interesting short-story channels I found in Hamburg.

But, as I’ve been having a bit of a “youtube” day, I stumbled across this little clip. I must admit I felt a bit uncomfortable on first opening this, and seeing the White Haired One wearing an England rugby shirt, but I warmed to him when he had a bit of a go at two of my favourite nationalities. Favourite for taking a pop at that is!

Nice one Kenny!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=3yWJsW5WN5Y

I was scouting around on “youtube” today and stumbled across this. I feel the need to share. It includes (near the end at about 3 minutes 50 seconds) the greatest goal I ever saw in person.

“Big Red” were playing Chelsea in a League Cup game at Old Trafford and I got the opprtunity to go with my uncle, Jimmy Powell. It must have been around 1970 although I stand to be corrected on that. I may research it later and come back to correct although I may just leave it for The Pearly King’s chums (well, the French woman with one sock in particular) to point out the error of my memory.

The Blessed George and Sir Bobby were in the side which, at my tender young age then, would have been enough. But then he scored “that goal”!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nplemK3Y4ns

In truth, it may not have been the greatest goal ever, nor even the greatest goal I ever saw, nor even the greatest goal included in this video, but it has stood the test of time for me. I can still remember the feeling of awe as I watched him jink around the Chelsea defence.

George himself may, or may not, have been the greatest player of all time – arguments rage in pubs and bars all over the world about that every single day – but, back then, this kid from Collyhurst County Primary School could see no equal. Influences that strong are hard to shake off and I don’t think I even want to try.

It’ll take a genius player to make me change my mind and, so far, i don’t think I’ve seen one.

This time, after an extended visit home of 5 nights (albeit with a European Conference and bowling tournament in the middle), I found myself in Amersfoort once again.

Last time I visited (April 2007) I stayed at the Lange Jan hotel, almost directly under a chiming clock tower. This time I moved slightly upmarket to the more popular Hof Square in Amersfoort to stay for my two nights (one of them shirtless) at the Logement de Gaaper:

Now this is a nice place! Very “Hurdy Gurdy” but nice. In common with my previous two billets it really only caters for B&B travellers but is situated in a square made up almost entirely of restaurants so the “Fat Lad” was able to cope.

My “good points” are:

• Easy to get to. You can comfortably walk from the station in about 20 minutes.
• Situated right in the centre of Amersfoort so loads of places to eat, including McDonalds and KFC!
• Breakfast is good and served in the cafe which occupies the ground floor.
• Room has internet connection via cable and it’s free!
• Bathroom is a wetroom – you know you just walk straight into the shower thingy.
• Posh lighting
• de-gaaper-posh-lights.jpg
• The hotelier insisted on carrying my case up the unfeasibly steep staircase

Not so good points:

• The dreaded mini-bar (incidentally I think I forgot to pay for a Mars bar)
• Vertigo sufferers should find somewhere else to stay, particularly if on the floor I was. You have to climb a very steep spiral staircase with a bannister which seems to be on wrong side. Difficult getting down with a suitcase which was 2 shirts (and the mandatory shampoo, shower gel and shower cap) heavier than when I arrived.  Needless to say the case arrived at the bottom before I did.
• The cafe closed at 8.00pm. Might have been nice to have a beer there before retiring.

As stated earlier the location is typically Dutch. Check these out if you don’t believe me:

amersfoort1.jpg           amersfoort2.jpg

Plenty of places to eat including “The Taste of India”.

I was having a look at the menu in the window of the “TOI” when a young “Indian” boy of about 9 or 10 came up to me saying something in “Hurdy Gurdy”. I shouted loudly and slowly and explained that I was English. The young hawker then started spouting at me in English “very good food, very good food!”

Impressed for a minute I dropped my guard until he blotted his copybook by saying “It schmeckt very nice”. Having scolded the upstart for dropping a German word into an English sentence we found some common ground in “Big Red”, had a quick discussion about Wayne Rooney and I moved on to McDonalds. Pity that, I really fancied a Ruby, but standards are standards!

The rest of my trip to Amersfoort has been pretty well documented elsewhere in this blog, so would I go back? “Yes!” I really have to know what the Beef Madras is like at the “Taste of India” although they probably don’t have it as I think that’s a uniquely British take on Indian cuisine.