Storm’s at the Cottage
Is it not amazing , one spends so much time learning about things and becoming somewhat knowledgeable and then when you give someone the benefit of 30 years of experience , on top of which their own expertise on the matter is less than zero ,and one is informed that you are talking sh-t ?
Time and time again , I walk into the trap of trying to help this particular person and lo and behold each and every time I get bitten. Was it not Freud who said ; “ To repeat the same mistakes and expect different results is proof positive of impending insanity.” In my humble but accurate opinion , he is absolutely correct !
Guess it is time to say on the next occasion I’m approached for help , “ Phone this number and ask for Mr Freud it’s a really long distance call . If Peter answers just mention my name , his Boss knows all about me !“
Had to smile a really good friend Bruce , who now lives in a giant refrigerator called Canada, reminded me recently that I’ve neglected to mention that a game called “Violicket” was invented many years ago by the author of this piece.
My dear Mother was hell-bent on instilling some form of culture into her only begotten son ,
first it was Piano (pronounced Pee- arn -no) lessons. No Peearnno at home Pop detailed off to locate ,purchase and bring home 1 x Peearnno. There was no way at all I could convince my Dad to swop the piano idea for a 375 Magnum or a shotgun , camera .motorbike, go-kart anything but a piano. Home came one Piano. So it was only after several lengthy discourses with an erudite Professor at the Collage of Music,that Mother reluctantly and not without severe reservations released only slightly the notion that her son was not the “Piano Man” of the future.
If nothing but tenacious , Mother dear decided on a second instrument , enter the Violin. Well at least this had connections to organized crime in the Prohibition days. Sad to say my violin case contained a violin ! Hours and hours of practice ensued and after only 4 weeks of an hour and one half daily I eventually mastered the method of opening the violin case.
This was the closest to hell on earth since the First world War , anyway a friend of mine popped over and suggested a game of cricket , hate cricket but dislike violins much more. Ball ,yes , set of wickets affirmative , bat ,bat no bat ….oh oh. Less than five nanoseconds later I had the answer. Unconventional, at least,effective , sort of , but the game was on. We were hardly into the second over
the bat had lost all its strings and lacked a certain” solidness” but we were happy.
A mild explosion of about 37.8 Megatons erupted from the back door, who else but Mother dear ?
The scale of this explosion was way,way off the Richter Scale. Krakatoa , just a small cracker . I’m convinced it took Mom at least 4 hours solid to explain to my Father why it was his side of the family that was responsible for this throwback that was HIS son.
I tried with scant success to promote my invented game to all in sundry, but the dire results meted out on parental discovery preceded my sales pitch. So takers were less than few and far between.
My punishment for this episode is up for revision in the year 2024. Mother passed on in 1998 but the sentence runs on none the less since 1961.
So there you go this is my one and only foray into the wild and not so wonderful world of “Violicket “
By the way the brightly coloured Moth above was flying around at almost 150 MPH so was immediately named
” Stirling Moth ” , suppose you are all too young to remember one of the greatest Racing Drivers of all time ,
Sir Stirling Moss .