And, no doubt, in the same warehouse - guarded by those guys in black from
the X-files - is the spaceship from Roswell, Lord Lucan and all the bits that
computers don't drop (but do really) plus lots more super stuff. Of course you
messages could have crossed in a parallel Universe - maybe one where canals get
lots of dosh as their value is realised by a sane government - but now I must
be hallucinating!
David Cragg
BARRY HOLLAND <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
I managed to retrieve these three messages from my 'sent' box & have
sent them again. Where they all disappeared to God only knows. I imagine a huge
warehouse somewhere, full of lost data!!!!
Brian <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
and they also charge 50p if you want to pay by
credit card.
--
Brian
I had that at "The Red Lion" in Cropredy. I immediately took back my card &
stated that I'd return to the boat [above the lock] & get some cash. The woman
behind the bar said "Can I hold your card until you return?" I said "No" & her
face was a picture! It was much the same expression when I walked back in!
Barry
Nb nosurchargeunderanycircumstanceswhatsoever
But David, even the Holy Grail, Coronation Street, gets pushed aside if
Clogthorpe United are playing Grunge Wanderers. It's the worship at the altar
of "The Beautiful Game" [huh] that pervades *all* walks of life that really
p***es me off!
Barry
Nb ohforasportfreepub
David Cragg <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
But to the TV planners nothing is more important than sport or Soaps. These
draw massed audiences while boring old canals progs are only watched but canal
nuts and people who are la-la enough to prefer this sort of slow retro sort of
thing narrated by a chap who speaks proper English to fast cars and the antics
of that Clarkson bloke. God help us if he turns up on the cut!
BARRY HOLLAND wrote:
When I arrive @ the library, if I've got something to say that I'm eager to get
off of my chest I tend to write first before I read my inbox messages. This
usually allows any comment to be made on my points before I leave the screen to
another day. Today, as has often happened lately, I've gone through all my
inbox & discovered that the letter I posted over an hour ago has not "gone" &
yet later ones have [e.g. my reply to Bob marooned in Anglialand] so, for your
delectation, I'll send the below again:-
I sit down to watch Waterworld, revelling in the knowledge that someone
somewhere in Carlton *must* have finally taken notice of my "moan" a couple of
years ago.
I thoroughly enjoy the programme, noting that the item on Little Venice *must*
have brought the waterways to the notice of hitherto unaware southerners &
non-canal people generally.
I scan the pages of the TV listings magazine to see what next week's programme
is liable to offer.
I die inside as I note that "Waterworld" has to give way to the worship of the
leather ball & is consigned next week [please god it's *only* next week] to the
dustbin of history.
I contemplate suicide as I realise that, once again, football wins & dictates
for all, whether it's of interest or not---aaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!
Barry
Nb f**kingfootball!
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