As always the ideal place for a meet does not happen as in the boozzzzzzzzzz cruise so we are back to the old stomping ground and hope that as many of you can come. Life is too short and our past went quick but thinking back some times it dragged . So pull out your piggy banks hit it with a hammer and see how much you have to get to the meet you wont regret it.
As usual my boating matters have not been to my front as she that is Lulu II is at Farndon Marina for sale , so hence no boaty stories.
I have been pondering over the past few years in my younger hay days and hope to take you back a few years and have your thoughts on how you found them.
We will start out with our usual Bog Paper ,which I may have touched on previously.
During my life, I have endured a wide variety of toilet papers.
I was a war-time baby. My first lavatorial memories revolve around helping (?) my mother to cut up the daily newspaper (the 'Daily Mirror' in our case) into neat squares. (It was only in later life that I appreciated the symbolism of this). When wartime austerity measures were relaxed, Izal (I think that is how it is spelt) and I entered into a close relationship. Izal had a rough and a smooth side. The smooth side skidded over ones nether regions, removing not very much of what it was meant to be removing, and spreading that which it did not remove over a wider area of ones anatomy than was necessary. The rough side ripped all the skin off one's bum.
Izal was still on the go in the early 1980s. We had a major problem with it in Germany, when some civil servant with nothing better to do, discovered that the Army was using Izal at a rate in excess of two rolls of Izal per man per day. It was suggested that married soldiers and civilian employees were taking rolls of the stuff home with them - a situation that was called 'leakage'. C'est drole!!
In the far east, most of us Brits stayed with our traditional methods of lavatorial clean-ups, whilst taking an interest in 'how the other half live'. For those who don't know ...
Many (most?) folk in the east clean themselves up after a sit-down (or, more usually, a squat down) visit to the loo (i.e. nip off behind the nearest sand dune) using a jug of water (the jug has a long spout). The jug is held in the right hand, and the left hand does the cleaning. The social implications of this are extensive. For example, in days gone by, a punishment was to have one's left hand chopped off. Without a left hand, one must clean one's bottom with the right hand - the eating hand. In a community where a meal is generally in a large bowl, and where the eaters sit around it scooping up their food with their clean right hands, one doesn't want to see a left hand anywhere near the food. But a person without a left hand must have cleaned his bottom with his right hand - hence he would not be welcomed to share a meal with anyone else.
So hope this did not put you off your meal and put your name down for the next meet.
So tits for now have a great week.
Toodle pip Magic