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The whistling horror

January 11, 2014

For Christmas, I received a gift of a key ring gadget that is supposed to help you find your car keys when they have gone walk-about. It works by whistling a certain frequency, upon which it bleeps to indicate where they are hiding. In principle it seems a wonderful idea, but rather irritatingly it does not work. I say this but it works when you don’t want it to. I spent most of Christmas morning trying different frequencies of whistling to try to get the bloody thing to whistle and nothing. But as soon as Eva Cassidy’s voice is heard on the stereo, there is a whistling cacophony. This is all well and good, but I don’t want to have to put Fields Of Gold on every time I have mislaid my keys. I suppose it could be worse, it could have been Black Lace and “Agadoo” or even anything by The Smiths. If that was the case, the either I would cast the present into the Arun or never drive again.

floods in Arundel

A good chunk of the River Arun has spilled over into this “overflow”car park

Last evening on the way back from Guildford, we popped into Petworth for a pint. Driving through the village is always a nice experience and I had long been keen to check out the Fullers pub in the centre. It is called The Star and it was anything but. Horrid swirly carpets, too brightly lit, crap furniture, boxed in beams, and (although not the pubs fault) a baby stroller by the fire. Children should not be allowed in pubs. Full stop. There is no excuse for it. What is more its mother was having a coffee. A coffee in a pub? Haven’t these people heard of Costa Coffee? I know they sell the worst quality coffee beans in the universe and bake them to death, but they do welcome mothers with children, whereas I do not and I wished the Star did not either.

Scurrying out of there as quickly as possible after a very poor flat pint of the best beer in the world, Fullers London Pride (if it were my brewery and saw the pint I had been served, heads would have rolled), we ventured down the road to The Angel Inn. First impressions were good, exposed beams, fires lit and the place was not as bright and garish as the Blackpool illuminations. But as we neared the bar, we heard the unmistakable sound of a baby crying. Another baby, another pub. What is going on in Petworth? Then we saw the beers, or rather the lack of anything drinkable. We left without partaking and headed home to await the arrival of Sprog 2, home-made shepherds pie and a pint in the Eagle.

It was late in the evening when Clive The Accountant (soon to be a Currencies Direct customer) stumbled into the bar with his gorgeous wife Anne. He was dressed in a way that was bound to attract the attention of this column. Obviously, all accountants are boring, it goes with the territory, but Clive was making an effort to be different. He was wearing a hooped sweater that put me in mind of Denis The Menace. Now if you are a big chap, the done thing is to wear stripes to disguise the bulk, but not double entry Clive, oh no, I think he will feature in this column again. Also there, taking in a decent local band, was Nearly Hairless Nick who provided todays photograph of the Arundel “Overflow” car park, which I found amusing and persuaded him to email to me. He has only recently seen the Harry Potter film with John Cleese playing “Nearly Headless Nick”, so has only just got the joke, and I think it is fair to say he does not like it, which is very satisfying.

Chris France

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Rev. Jeff. permalink
    January 11, 2014 7:12 pm

    Hairless Nick’s a descriptive nickname,
    Though Nick knew not from whence it first came,
    Then the ‘bald’ truth came out
    And he let out a shout,
    ‘That bloody boy wizard’s to blame’ !!


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