Truth is we are not in a recession, In the UK we have seen prices rise like a well prepared soufflé recently, with a warning that the soufflé s about to be loaded on to the space shuttle.

The latest warning is from energy suppliers that prices are to rise more than 60% over the next year. All prices, food, energy and fuel is mainly caused by the oil price doubling in less than a year, I say mainly because some food prices have risen due to grain issues, but hey! let's not get all analytical here!

The latest news came the other morning with a radio WM item outlining most Britt's are holidaying inside the UK this year to save costs. This comes just as I had posted a cheque (yes, I still have some of those paper paying things) for a week's holiday in Wales – No I'm not Pinocchio, that's Wales not Whales.

We had decided this when, looking at finances found flights during the school holidays were more than £1000 for me, wife and youngest kidlett virtually anywhere in Europe. Yes, we have a tunnel to get to France but really........France..........It's full of French people, need I say more? So I am depending of the great British summer to break it's habit of raining the second I push the key in the car's ignition.

"What's the difference between being English, British or coming from The United Kingdom?"

Obviously as it may be to me, which indecently may be different to my fellow country men, I gave a very short and concise answer:

English is being born in England, as apposed to Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland – That was the easy bit……..

The United Kingdom encompasses England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland (not Southern Ireland).

Brittain is the same thing really – I did not want to bore my American friend senseless about Brittain (or Britannia) which was the Roman name given to our largely conquered isle, apart from a few rebellious Scots – hence Hadrian's wall. Or that the United Kingdom was a reworking of 'The British Empire'………Sorry, are you losing interest now?

Being part of a mongrel breed like America it should not matter but, getting back to why that question came to mind months after the Texan beauty had graced these shores, Andy Murray was winning at Wimbledon and he is British, no, not Scottish but British. Tim Henman was English, when he played and of course Lewis Hamilton is an English racing driver with David Coulthard being British.That's before we even get regional, West Midlands, Birmingham, Black Country.......

Our Army is British as in 'The Best of British' but really, I don't mind being 'The United Kingdom' in the Eurovision song contest – lets all fail together huh?

Football is a whole different ball game -literally in America.

England are the superior footballing team of course, despite failing to qualify for the last championships. That's because we had an Englishman managing the team and not a Swedish or Italian Manager (who looks remarkably like Tommy Cooper) – maybe we should have had a Scottish manager – they manage better than they play……

The stupid thing being we can not enter a football team in the Olympic games because in the games we are The United Kingdom and don't have a 'united' football team.

That reminds me of: An Englishman, Scotsman, Irishman and Welshman all walk in to a Birmingham pub - because there was no football on that night! (But they did argue the fact that most of the best players for each nation came from a West Midland club at one time.....) 

But, I recently received a letter inviting me to a man's health check, which was inconvenient for two reasons; it was on at 9.30am Sunday morning, which is when my body understands it can rest a little more than usual and (as I discovered on arriving at the surgery) 30 other men had the same appointment time as me.

Block booking also involved block waiting, now I'm a patient man, I can happily wait for most things, good food, sex, death, sex, Guinness and sex, but having to read a well thumbed 2004 copy of Woman's Own magazine while waiting to be called for an examination can be a little testing.

Luckily there were more that 6 nurses carrying out the examinations so we moved swiftly along.

I was called in to a smaller room that had 5 other men having their heath checks done (I was most relieved there was no prostate check taking place) and we were all able to nod understandingly to each other when our height and weight checks revealed we were all a little over weight – BMI I'm sure that is an invention of a svelte Swedish doctor wanting to strip us of our 'love handles' so we look more acceptable in the sauna.

I was given a seat by a 'nurse' understand I use that term lightly here, who proceeded to prick my finger (without the aid of a spinning wheel) and extract blood to test my Cholesterol, glucose levels etc, (which can out fine by the way), while the machine was testing this she proceeded to take my blood pressure.

Now, this is where the fun starts, she took my blood pressure on the same arm she had extracted the blood from, why then was she so surprised that my pricked finger began to spurt like old faithful when she pressed button on the blood pressure machine?

To add to the fun after a few cotton balls had been soaked in my precious vamp juice, she looked at the machine giving my blood pressure result and said "Oh!"

"Oh? Oh what's Oh mean?"

"Oh!"

"Yes, I caught that bit, but Oh what?"

"Did you drive here?

"Yes"

"Oh!" - There is was again! – WHAT?

"You reading is a bit high, let me take it again"

"Wait, Wait, let me put some pressure on this finger prevent and spurting"

Reading number two and three can back similar, which prompted the stupidest question of the day; "what job do you do?" (No, not that one)

"Sales, I'm in sales I am an Area sales manager"

"Is it stressful?" (yes, that's the one!)

"Not any more than having your blood pressure taken then followed by an OH!" She sensed my sarcasm.

"Well I would recommend you drive to A & E and explain the situation and get them to check you over"

"Really, Is that bad?"

"Well, not great but go anyway"

"And drive there, despite you having concerns when you knew I drove here?"

"Mmmmm, well you should be ok"

"Thanks for the reassurance" And off I went, with all the other guys nodding sympathy my way.

I found the Accident and Emergency department of my local Hospital completely empty – result, quick service! I gave my personal details again explaining I thought I was neither an accident nor an emergency but was told to attend by the 'nurse'.

The receptionist agreed with me (where upon I did remark that some people had commented I was an accident waiting to happen), she directed me around the corner to the 'Walk in centre'. There I found a waiting room full of people with various states of problems, the problem I had was five minutes in to the wait discovering the receptionist was re-entering my details that had been printed off by A&E less than 5 minutes ago (have they not heard of data file transfer?), add to that she was training another person (on a Sunday?) and it took them 20 minutes to complete the task (good old NHS huh?).

During that time another man came in with a similar form I had given over, so I asked "Have you just been to the health screening?"

"Yes"

"High Blood pressure?"

"Yes, are you a doctor?"

"No, mind reader……No, I've had the same thing"

"Was it the blonde nurse in the white blouse?" He asked,

"Yeeess, now YOU'RE the mind reader"

It turned out no coincidence, on getting to see the doctor he asked why I was there, I wondered that but followed 'nurse"Oh's" instructions. He took my blood pressure and informed me that it was only a little above normal, there was no worries and with an air of 'I've got more important people to treat" advised me on ways of getting it to lower. I had a few ideas myself; avoid men's health checks for one!

Work this one out: He was Turkish (yep George was not his given name), he had never stepped foot on our great land we call Brittan, was killing dragons but not fellow Christians, was canonised by the pope the head of a religion that was not recognised by Henry VIII when he wanted to move along the conveyor belt of wives and yet St. George remained up there!

So England has St. George, Scotland St. Andrew who at least made it to Scotland - well in his tomb apparently, Wales St. David (at least he was a local lad) and Ireland St. Guinness…..no Patrick (another yarn there with snakes insted of dragons).

Today is also William Shakespeare's birthday or Billy Waggledagger to the locals. He would have been 444 - just, considering he died on his birthday too, which, would have put him in the Guinness book of records were still alive………...... 

I've never found his work very easy to get along with, yes, he was a talented man, but so was Vincent Van Gogh and……..hold on…..I see a connection: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears". Where was I? Oh yes, - talented -but dose that mean you have to like it?

I remember many a boring lesson in school discussing meaning, hidden meaning and the literal flow of Mr S's work:

Teacher: " The love of Desdemona for Othello appears at first such a violation of all probabilities that her father at once imputes it to magic , what impact dose this have on the relationship between the three……….You boy?"

Me: "(mmmm Alison's hair is so shiny today, I wonder if she's up for a snog behind the bike sheds?) ….....Errr, dose he hire those three witches that caused Macbeth to talk to skulls sir?

Teacher: "GET OUT!"

And I never did get that snog!

Happy St Georges day!

Last weekend saw the arrival, all be it delayed due to weather and Heathrow airport’s incompetence, of two American friends.

Tina flew in from California and Jenna from Austin, both ended up jetting off from Chicago and landed three minutes apart, but had an hours wait on the tarmac at Heathrow in snowy conditions.

My plan as chauffeur for the day (including driving on the wrong side of the road for them!) was to take them to Stratford upon Avon to show them Shakespeare’s birth place etc, but got ’Persuaded’ by Jenna after a brief chat, to head for ’Waw-Wick’ "No, that’s pronounced Warick" Castle.

During the drive up, which would take about 1 ½ hours (driving at a sensible speed of course) we caught up on the gossip and discussed interesting things about the UK and American politics too.

I started to realise when pointing out various landmarks, towns we passed, relationships with fellow European counties etc, that we in little old Brittan have a bloody lot of history (of course comparing it to America we would) but its’ amazing how you take this for granted.

While touring Warwick castle, we walked through a ’Royal Weekend Party’ set in 1898 including wax work figures, I pointed out to Jenna and Tina that that was the same year my house was built, which they found difficult to comprehend because many properties (not including the Alamo!) across all states would not be that old.

Discussions on history included Roman roads (yes, we did drive down one and it felt like it hadn’t been resurfaced since Roman times), War time bombings by the Germans, our ’United’ or not Kingdom with the Welsh, Scots and Northern Irish and the commonality with Americans of being a Mongrel breed, oh and our dislike of the French.

I was starting to get the reason why we see so many (well not as many since 9/11) American visitors here, History, heritage, friendly people (take note Frenchies), oh and speaking nearly the same language! I even managed to teach Jenna a few new English swear words. Tina choose to take up on the clean words offered and added to her ’Queens slang’ vocabulary "Cheers" and "Mate", which they will no doubt use on the second leg of their UK trip, which they are now on, in London.

My thumb got stuck out when a neighbour asked if I knew anyone who could sing and was looking to join a band, I admitted to one out of the two counts ........namely the later. The conformation I could not sing was made at the first practice session, I must admit the rest of the guys where very understanding and let me add a cringworthy din their accomplished playing - Yes, they were desperate!

But, after only a couple of months I had trained my voice with what seemed to have been a chair and a whip in to something regarded as acceptable. Although we never did a proper ’Gig’ I spent one night a week enjoying my limited talents, which  included a little keyboard playing and even co-writing three songs.

I never expected big things but realised one of those things that most teenagers do to get through their angst years I had done in my late 30’s.

This bought me on to today. I am hoping to finish a book that I’m working on by the end of the year. Not looking for fame and fortune from it, in fact I’m not really looking at getting it published, just looking to get it in to areadable state while the idea is in my head, as someone once said ’Everybody has one good book inside them’. I just hope this one is it, I could not manage another!

So, dear reader, do you have an ambition, a task or maybe a wish yet to fulfill, Something that is somewhat selfish away from family, work and the rest of life’s humdrum ?

Do spill those beans...........

"Well, It’s a company phone and bloody noisy out there, I thought you might hear me better inside the car"

"Right, well, can you see a location marker?"

"A what?"

"Thank you Jackelika"

"Uhg!" I thought I head a whisper of 'I give up' before the line went dead.

When the recovery vehicle finally arrived after over an hours' waiting in the cold, I asked him if it was a busy day he explained he had got the call 15 minutes ago........strange that...... 

Car boot sales have also unearthed gems for the antique dealer or sharp eyed 'booter' when someone has been trying to sell a disgusting looking vase some old auntie bought for the 30 years since and is now worth the combined yearly mobile phone bill for 125 teenagers, or that painting that grandad liked turned out to be a Renoir he smuggled back from Germany during the second world war. No such luck in our loft, although that Luger might come in handy......

The idea of a car boot had been planted by my wife when I complained our loft space (which she has never seen) was getting less of a space more of a 'fill' with the unused stuff accumulated in the five years in our present house. Why non of it had already been taken to the local council dump or better still charity shops had crossed my mind a few times, but it seemed easier to hoard like a demented squirrel.

So, ok, I thought we could get some money back for the toys no longer played with, books read, video's that we no longer have a player to play on and the 'other' paraphernalia gathering dust.

Saturday was spent in the loft, selecting sellable items and slowly getting them back downstairs to clean up and price.

I had only done one car boot previously and learned it was wise to pre-price items to save guess work on the day and ensure you don't hear "How much is that?" or more often than not: "How much you asking for that?". This is because the car boot sale is one of a few places a traditional Englishman can barter.

Us Brits have not been used to this haggle system of trading and expect to pay what the item is priced up at, with the ever growing immigrant population over recent years sales people of all calibre are faced with hagglers testing their patience with 'offers'.

Pre-empting this, I price some items, (including a Disney 'Stitch' costume we bought from Florida four years ago, that my daughter has worn once and decided she did not like it after all - no, I'll not go there) 'NO OFFERS'.

The Car loaded up the night before (in the hope someone would steel it and keep the contents) and alarm clock set I was ready.

Two shocks to the system – First, it may have been only the second time since I had hit 40 that I had seen a Sunday morning at 5.30am and second, my wife was sure she had mentioned the night before that she was not coming with me because " I hate to see you argue over money" Ha! I only argue when it's my pocket it's coming from without prior knowledge.

My 10 year old – Chloe – was some what keener to go and very eager to get out of bed that early (the smell of money can have that effect on my kids!).

We arrived at the site a 6.30 knowing the sale was not due to start until 7.00am (Who in there right minds what's to get up on a Sunday to buy 2^nd hand stuff?). Having not experienced such a large site before I was moist surprised there were about 10 people eagerly awaiting our arrival.

This, to my disappointment, was not to help unpack our stuff, but those hawk traders swooping in trying to buy your valuables before you have chance to unpack it. It found it distracting but worth while, having dismissed three hawks asking for Jewellery, Vinyl records (Damn yes, there were over 400 in the loft too) and mobile phones, I was left with the rest peering in to car eyeing up my wears (Ooh err missus!). The worthwhile bit was I sold £15 worth of goods straight from the car. With the rest of our fine wares on display the selling began.

After a steady start and briefing to Chloe that went something like "Stop selling everything so cheaply, do you realise how much that cost new?" and "50p……50p……where can you get something that nice for 50p" I think the message sank in eventually.

The fun began when one guy can over to inspect an as new remote control Dinosaur that I had price up at £7.00 – no offers – and he chirped with: "I'll give you £5.00" OK, I thought he's playing with me.

"How about £8.00?" I replied.

"No, no, your supposed to say £6.00" he said,

"Was I? I did not see the script, try again."

"So, a fiver yeh?"

"No, £7.50"

"Your funny" he said sarcastically,

"You started it" I punched out with a smile "It says no offers, that means…..NO……OFFERS" and off he went mumbling under breath, I suspect it was something like "Stupid git, don't know how theses car boots work".

Some items I did accept being knocked down on but I had, of course started a little higher on my asking price to start with so did not feel aggrieved.

After 4 hours of steady selling I was getting weary and decided to pack up and go. Then the fun began again, because a few people who had browsed earlier and spotted something of interest saw us packing up and headed back to 'Make us an offer we wouldn't refuse'. How wrong some of them were? I played the "well it will be going on eBay" card which helped raise their offers.

One pratt really got me going, while I was working out the best was to pack the car with the unsold items he pounced on Chloe with loose change in exchange for toy cars (Yes, she is a tom-boy), I looked over to see he had picked up a Wii proctor cover I had bought in a buy 2 get one free offer and was expecting to sell for £1.00 and had slipped the cars inside it.

My reaction was one that drew attention from my fellow boot sellers:

Only slight aggression was noted in my tone and my daughter, with cash in hand, now looked from him to me back to him,

"Oh, come on mate, 80p the lot, ok?"

"No, 80p the cars, no, wait! In fact Chloe, give the man his money back, I'll give you £1.00 for those cars"

Shock hit him pretty quick and Chloe had to be quick to hand his money back before dribble from his gaping mouth caught her hand. He walked off in a huff to the sound of hysterical laughter from the audience of car booters.

It took some explaining on the journey home with Chloe why I had bought the cars and why had I not played with her cars before.

The end result was a decent amount of cash earned, a RC dinosaur that was played for the next week and some quality father and daughter time spent.

Now, anyone want to buy some toy cars for £1.50?

This is, I believe to a few contributing factors;

I am a boring fart with no life (partly true - I've no life).

I am losing my ability to see the amusing side of anything (possibly, I believe it comes with old age).

I am just too busy work wise to find spare time to make up stuff report on life.

I'm saving the good stuff for a book (good stuff ....mmmmm...right!)

I'm suffering from S A D and waiting for the clocks to change before I can truly be inspired.

OK, pick any of the above for an excuse a reason for not blogging of late, and contributing ideas along with paragraphs for my book, hold on, you don't know what it's about, what the hell send it anyway, I'll use it somewhere!

1) Don’t pack too much.

I am usually a light packer for holidays, but as my trip was two days including a promise of a night out with a colleague (he suggested it so I could put the meal/drinks on my expenses), I packed one suit, two shirts (one for the night out), underwear, jeans and my leather jacket.

My suit carrier was bloody heavy!

2) Invest in travel toiletries.

Another reason for the heavy Suit carrier was I has packed it with a full sized bottles/cans of deodorant, shaving gel, after shave moisturiser, hair gel, shampoo, battery powered razor, rechargeable toothbrush, after shave and a book.

I need to make use of those luxury hotel freebies ~ small bottles of shampoo and shower gel etc. Hold on, I don’t stay in luxury hotels……..damn!

3) Take a pair of headphones.

I travelled on a Virgin train, no, not a train that was out of its shed for the first time, but a Virgin Pendolino train, which had a headphone socket for listening to their 12 ‘stations’, much better than risking my ipod (which I don’t own!) on the train……..

The book I had packed was left in the luggage rack with my bag, which became blocked behind an obnoxious man with no seat (I felt smug with my ingenious ticket reservation made on line with seat reservation – sucker!) and he was as awkward as possible to those people making their way to and from the buffet area.

4) Don’t fall asleep on the train.

No, not because of the ‘missed station’ thing, but I have discovered recently despite being a light sleeper I do snore……a little. The snort I ejected woke me up and I had to quickly look as if my nose was blocked and get my hanky out. I remembered to take one (the first one in my pocket ever! – Another sign of old age – I’ll be thinking about buying a trilby next!).

5) Ignore taxi drivers.

I left the Exhibition I was working at and hailed a cab to take me to my hotel,

when I told him where I was going he told me it was only a short walk up the road and I would be better time wise walking. LIKE BUGGERY! Half an hour with my ‘bloody heavy’ suit carrier turned my hands from ‘pen pusher soft’ to ‘Brick layer rough’ and left me with monkey arms for the night.

The receptionist at the hotel greeted me in her best Polish accent “Aah you look really tiered, long day?” As she was not going to show me where the oxygen bottle was I let her run through the service charter for the hotel while I waited for my hand to stop shaking so I could register.

6) Check for towels.

My colleague could not make his ‘free meal on Shaun deal’, So I decided to unwind and soak my aching body in the bath. When everything started to look shrivelled (No, that was already shrivelled), I stood up to get out of my now tepid water to discover no towel in the bathroom. The towels were on a shelf in the bedroom…………..Maybe I should of hung my suit in the bathroom.

7) When hungry don’t use logic.

I ventured out of my hotel to look for a suitable eatery. I walked past several busy restaurants and then came across an empty one. Now, logic would tell me that the busy ones were good and the empty one not so good. But I braved it and ventured in knowing the service would be quick.

It turned out to be a most enjoyable Indian meal accompanied by a Bollywood musical on wide screen TV……well you can’t have everything perfect!

8) Think ahead.

Don’t have an Indian meal if you are working on an exhibition stand the next day! “Keep moving people nothing to smell here”