The Edge Magazine December 2019

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EDGE

the ISSUE NO: 278

www.theedgemag.co.uk

‘THE CHELMSFORD FANZINE’

Telephone 01245 348256

Mobile: 077 646 797 44

DECEMBER 2019

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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LYNX I was walking towards the entrance of Saino’s behind a tradesman-type-chappy (due to what he was wearing) and I must have been in his slipstream as he fairly stank of Lynx.

And I was thinking, ‘OMG, I hope the people walking behind don’t think that it’s me who’s wearing the godawful stuff.’

RUGBY WORLD CUP

The Edge Editor’s Column WATER’S EDGE I was strolling around the lake in Central Park, minding my own business, on a beautiful sunny Sunday morning, as you do, when I’m pretty sure I spotted a Jay by the water’s edge. And I thought to myself, I wish one of those birds would come visit us in our garden at home, what with their jazzy blue ‘go faster’ flashes.

And waddayaknow; the very next day, would you Adam & Eve it, one actually did.

SEVEN WORLDS, ONE PLANET David Attenborough’s latest jaw-dropping natural spectacular series (did you see those little sea toadstools amazingly bring down that jellyfish?) on Sunday evenings.

But it was one of the guys on the expedition, right at the very end of the very first episode (Antarctica) that really got me. You could just tell he was awestruck by the beauty of all that was around him, only then he started crying, because we’re totally f cking up our world.

*

Tuning in to watch England v South Africa, as a non-rugger follower, I couldn’t believe it when I spotted a trainer on the pitch, tending to an injured player, yet the game continued to carry on all around them.

It reminded me of the times I’ve visited India and Sri Lanka where very much the same thing happens where roadworks are concerned, in so far as the traffic simply swerves around the hazard. Where as back at home, there are always massive delays, traffic lights and blinkin’ bollards as far as the eye can see.

DISPENSERS I have two floor-standing Edge dispensers, like the one that’s situated outside Rayleigh Sound & Vision on Parkway, sat doing nothing up in my loft, when really they need to be positioned somewhere where there is both shelter from the elements and plenty of passing punters to pick copies up.

So if you think you can satisfy the criteria, kindly get in touch with me. Ay thank you.

JOKES PAGE Yes, you’re right, readers, the jokes were somewhat below par last month, weren’t they. Sorry about that. However, I’m pretty confident normal service has been resumed this month, just in time for Chriiistmassssss!

GOOD OLD DAYS

SCOUSERS

Living in a place like Chelmsford, which most certainly doesn’t have a ‘village feel’ to it, simply because it isn’t one, we tend not to get served by familiar faces (i.e. no one fills our car up with petrol anymore these days, while many of us buy our newspapers and foodstuffs from supermarkets and often use self-service tills etc).

So it is genuinely heart-warming to walk into A.G. Smith family butchers of Boreham and no matter how many people might be queuing up to buy their cattle off-cuts, if Andrew’s behind the counter, he always takes the time to smile and say, “Alright, Shaun.�

Now some of you might think that’s a little thing.

But hey, it’s these important little human touches we’ve most definitely lost these days, such as a greengrocer swinging a brown paper bag in front of us, containing our nectarines.

The good old days? Damn right!

It’s obviously Liverpool’s title to lose this season.

But just a thought; aren’t they eventually going to get knackered, playing the way they do?

THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 0 77 646 797 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

MAGIC IN THE AIR There most definitely is a little bit of magic in the air in the build up to Christmas, don’t you think?

From, say, Friday 20th December, up until it turns dark on Christmas Day, there’s a kind of warm, fuzzy feeling of ‘goodwill to all men’ - and women too, naturally.

But come Boxing Day and all of the cars piling into Chelmo Village Retard Park for the sales and people blaring their horns at one another, fighting over parking spaces. Yep, it’s all well and truly gone for a Burton already by then, for nigh on another 360 days.

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Because it’s Christmas, and it’s bound to be on, and it’ll be cold and ’orrible outside, so you’ll sit there, chomping on Twiglets from one of those big Crimbo drums they sell ’em in, and even though it’ll probably be 3:00pm in the afternoon, you’ll still be in your PJ’s, because like The Edge says, it’s Christmas, and you’ll probably actually surprise yourselves by really reet enjoying it, particularly if you’ll no doubt have been on the sherry or the port by then.

We do this sort of stuff because it’s become almost tradition, far more so than ever it is going to church and singing carols, due to the fact we’re lazy, but also because we’re tired, as 2019 was all a bit of a slog, wasn’t it, and we feel as though we’re entitled to slob out for a few days, watch TV and hey, constantly keep our alcohol levels in topped up.

Three movies we always watch every single Christmas in Ye Olde Festive Edge household are It’s A Wonderful Life, because you truly cannot beat a bit of George Bailey and the warbling voice of James Stewart, The Muppet Christmas Carol, with Michael ‘sing-a-long’ Caine, and Love Actually, which, like Notting Hill, has a truly brilliant soundtrack. That bit where Jamie (Colin Firth) asks the beautiful Aurelia (Sienna Guillory) to marry him; if you can watch that without balling your eyes out, then, then....then you’re just not getting it and you need to pop some more of your Christmas pills pretty damn sharpish, as the magic’s clearly started to wear off.

No doubt we’ll all succumb to a bit of Del-Boy Trotter, Rodney and Uncle Albert at some point too, I should think. The trick is to try and imagine that we’ve never ever seen it before (even though we all have a hundred times) and honestly haven’t the foggiest what’s coming next!

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We all remember, with a certain amount of ridicule, when Gwenyth Paltrow chose to consciously uncouple from Coldplay’s Chris Martin back in 2014, don’t we? But what about consciously uncoupling from the town, or city, in which you live? It’s just as big a step, right? Perhaps even bigger than splitting up with your partner.

It’s something that’s been going through The Edge’s mind over the past year or so, but you’ve got to get it right, like columnist Steve Ward did, not only when he switched Chelmsford for London, but then switched London for San Diego, lock stock and two smoking barrels.

Most of you know that your editor is not a native of these parts, but I have lived in Chelmsford for nigh on the past 38 years, and that’s a fair old chunk of time to live anywhere.

And, like the reet old git I’m fast becoming, I’m starting to wonder where the time has gone and when it’s going to be possible to ‘get off the wheel’ (think of a mouse in a cage).

Is it getting time for a change, I’ve been asking myself?

It’s often easier to find fault than praise in one’s immediate surroundings, don’t you think?

Before I moved to Chelmsford, which I didn’t know a single thing about and nor had I ever previously visited, the first thing that was mentioned to me was the notorious Army & Navy roundabout - I told you it’s always easier to pick fault, didn’t I, because that’s what people do.

Where we live, in Chelmington Village (Toy Town), we’ve got two eating establishments within but a stone’s throw of our home, and both the Chelmo Village Rattle Park (and Costa) are also within easy walking distance.

We honestly never fully appreciated that until we once discovered a house we liked, which was kind of situated on the outskirts of Great Baddow, and although we loved the house, there was pretty much bugger all within easy walking distance, and nor was the walk particularly nice.

But we can easily walk in and out of town from our house (no, we do not walk in and out of the city) and it’s rather a nice walk at that, via a dedicated footpath and cycle route, past the river and lil bridge at Marina One, on towards the Essex Records Office.

And when you walk out the back of M&S, into our lovely Bell Meadows park, then underneath Parkway, once again by the river, with Chelmsford Market sur votre droite, just check out the fourth tree along, on the right, as you enter Central Park, as it is absolutely huge and must have been there for hundreds (thousands?) of years.

And then there’s the scene above. I’ve always appreciated the appearance of a viaduct, whilst we’re all surely suckers for a bit of ‘a water feature’.

I’ve also always thought that when the train returns from London to Chelmsford, and in particular the view out of the right-hand side windows, it all looks rather, well, impressive.

So why would any of us ever want to leave Chelmsford?

Well, because the grass is always greener, isn’t it? In our mind’s eye at least.

Hmmmmm. Decisions, decisions, decisions.

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C&C Automotive Ltd. started out life in September 1998, when Christopher Biggs and Colin Adams, after working together at the Essex Police garage, branched out to go it alone. Two years later, Russ Smith joined them, in August 2000, as a vehicle technician, and they began to build the business and expand. Then along came Peter Armson-Smith, who joined in 2009, as a trainee mechanic at that time.

Christopher retired in April 2013, selling his share of the business to Russ.

Then, due to further expansion and a particularly long wait for the right premises, this thriving, innovative business at last acquired their brand new premises, on Navigation Road, just walking distance from their former workshop, yet handily positioned a little closer to the city centre.

As you can see, the transformation of this unit into a bright, new, modern, purpose-built premises has been quite spectacular and will be open for business from early December, with another new member of staff, Karl Jeffrey, joining the dedicated team.

Complimentary refreshments and a far superior customer reception area are just two of the many new additions to this specialised workshop.

Together with 5* reviews, friendly, independent and reliable service, C&C Automotive Ltd. are a trustworthy company of 21 years standing, offering absolutely no hidden extras.

Services provided include: vehicle servicing, MOT tests, brakes, exhausts, suspension, clutches, timing belts, waterpumps, air-conditioning, diagnostics, tyres, tracking etc.

All manufactured motor vehicles are catered for, including small vans.

Servicing of vehicles under manufacturer’s warranty is also available.

1 Court Ind. Estate, Navigation Road, Chelmsford, CM2 6ND. Telephone: 01245 264040 Email: candcautoltd@hotmail.com Web: www.candcautomotiveltd.com Opening times: Monday - Friday 8:00am - 6:00pm Saturday 8:00am - 1:00pm

The Edge 01245 348256

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The lights are up. We’ve already seen several versions of cute supermarket TV ads. Yes, Christmas is upon us once again. For us, it’s all about the food (and the drink, obviously) and time spent with family too (of course).

The less time we spend out Christmas shopping, the better. Kayleigh has now perfected the art with a military precision, getting everything bought within just a couple of hours, although dangerously close to 25th December.

We split our time with both our families over Christmas Day and Boxing Day, which in effect results in us always having TWO Christmas days and probably the only two roasts we’ll eat all year round, which is a controversial statement, we accept. But it’s Christmas roasts only for us as there are always so many other exciting cuisines to be eating throughout the rest of the year.

Generally, over the festive period, our weekends consist of eating lots of great cheeses and drinking the best of red wines. One of our absolute faves is this Mont d’Or cheese from Borough Cheese Company. The one pictured (below) would probably serve 4, but hey, it’s Christmas, so it served just the 2 of us very nicely indeed, with plenty of crudités and a good crunchy loaf.

We would highly recommend getting one of these if you’re into your gooey fromage.

‘The Big Day’ We start ‘the big day’ at home with breakfast.

Usually, soft scrambled eggs with chives (must be Burford browns) on toasted sourdough or rye, smoked salmon or trout slices, topped with a sprinkling of fresh dill, grilled asparagus and fresh lemon. Served with an obligatory Buck’s Fizz, naturally. It’s super quick nosh and really rather simple and quite stress free, even if you’re cooking it for all of the family.

The day then slowly unfolds with the opening our presents, before driving to family to spend the afternoon and evening eating, playing board games, and falling into a food coma by 7pm!

We wish you all a fantastic food and booze filled Christmas and a Happy New Year, and look forward to seeing some of you at our stalls in 2020.

Please feel free to get in touch if there’s a recipe or something you would like to see featured.

Merry Christmas, Billy & Kayleigh.

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Richard Cowan, Sales Manager of Citroen, Maldon, most definitely falls into the latter category, in The Edge’s humble opinion.

I don’t know about you, readers, but when I see the Engine Management Light appear on my dashboard, particularly when one’s car is only nine months OUT of warranty, my sphincter muscles go absolutely haywire.

What’s more, I also have the previous scars (and by god, they run deep) of once owning an Audi Avant, of which the engine, to all intents and purposes, ‘blew up’. Only then, like a complete and utter dick myself, rather than washing my hands of it, I foolishly went down the route of installing a refurbed replacement engine at a cost of £6,000 all told, that was never right from the off.

So to say I was, not to put too fine a point on it, absolutely petrified about the outcome when my current Cactus model (cease with the prick jokes, I’ve heard enough already) was off the road for fully two weeks, in the hands of Quest Motor Group, Maldon, is somewhat of an understatement.

But what amazing service I received.

Not only was I granted an immediate demo loan car (when I’d been enquiring about where the local buses ran from back to Chelmsford), but they eventually and most painstakingly sorted out the problem for me for absolutely NO CHARGE WHATSOEVER! Can you imagine the sheer relief on my part - considering those deep wounds I’ve already been telling you about?

Sure, you could argue that what happened to my car shouldn’t have happened. But the fact is, in this life, SHIT most definitely DOES HAPPEN and lightening can and will strike twice (as regards me not seemingly being a very lucky boy where motor vehicles are concerned).

So I’d just like to say a massive, huge, humongous, very public THANK YOU to Richard (above) and Kevin (head of the service team) for pretty much unclenching those muscles and saving me from following through.

Look and ye shall find, for they are everywhere.

Christmas is not just about Splashing the Cash, readers. It’s about Spreading the Love as well, and this abandoned supermarket shopping trolley on the banks of the River Cam is definitely crying out for a bit of very much needed TLC. So why not take a picnic blanket and go and sit with it for a while, on the lead up to Crimbo. Fact is, you see, they’re used to being in herds, or trolls, are shopping trolleys. So you cannot imagine the trauma a neglected one is undoubtedly going through.

‘Why me?’ it is probably thinking.

So why not be a Good Samaritan and go stand it upright, and maybe take along a can of Brasso with you, and some polishing cloths, and spruce it one up a bit, before adding the obligatory tinsel, like whacky local drivers do to their car aerials at this particular time of the year.

Because shopping trolleys have feelings too, you know. They’re not just for Christmas, or for wheeling your groceries back to your car in.

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So the festive period is once again upon us and every year the pressure to produce the perfect gastronomic fayre seems even more prevalent than before. But is Christmas really all about how long you soak the turkey, and whether your roast potatoes are perfectly crisp? Or is it far more about the memories we create and carry with us throughout the years?

One of my most memorable Christmases was just after I got married in 2010. It was the first time I offered to host Christmas for my family, and more importantly, it was also my first attempt at cooking a full on Christmas dinner, or indeed a proper roast. However, I wasn’t overly concerned as my mum (aka ‘The Mothership’) assured me

I’VE GOT MISTLETOE

that she was happy to chip in and help.

My first big mistake was failing to realise the importance of preparing the vegetables in advance. Everyone arrived around late morning and after the obligatory glasses of prosecco infused with a random fruit syrup concoction, my niece was so excited to open her presents that we decided to do that first. So by the time we had eventually prepared the veg and actually started cooking the dinner, the afternoon was disappearing almost as fast as The Mothership’s bottle of wine, whilst her empty stomach meant the skills of my sous-chef were drastically in serious decline. As the darkness of the evening began to fall, we were only just putting the Yorkshire’s in the oven, and due to her compromised senses, she unfortunately chose to use a perforated baking tray. Within just a few minutes, this resulted in a waterfall of hot fat into the bottom of the oven which promptly started to burn off, and rapidly filled the house with acrid black smoke.

A combination of the smoke, and the Christmas wine, further compromised The Mothership’s coordination, and as she lifted a huge tray of glistening, golden, roast potatoes out of the oven, she had the misfortune to completely lose her grip. I recall me and my sister looking on in horror as the upside down giant roasting tin sailed across my kitchen floor in a bubbling sea of hot fat. The Mothership immediately attempted to rescue the upside down tin, but unfortunately as she was wearing oven gloves, she was no match for the well oiled dome which repeatedly slipped further away, until she resembled some kind of crazy clapping sea lion hopping distressedly about the place, in hot pursuit of the escaping spuds.

By the time we all sat down to eat, it was pitch black outside, and most of the rest of the UK population were probably already tucking into their turkey sandwiches. Suffice to say, it wasn’t the best of Christmas dinners, featuring Yorkshire’s that were more like pancakes and potatoes infused with essence-du-sol (floor).

It furthermore was plated up a bit too late for The Mothership who barely managed but a few mouthfuls, before she promptly fell fast asleep in the corner, ensconced in her full length fur coat.

It took weeks for the burnt oil smell to fade, while my oven never truly recovered, truth be told.

We sadly lost my mum very suddenly and unexpectedly last year, and if I had just one wish this Christmas, it would be to relive every moment of that memorable day with her all over again, from the acrid, burning smoke, right down to the soggy Yorkshire’s. Even though, at the time, it was deemed a complete and utter disaster, I now realise it was actually rather perfect.

So if I could offer just one piece of advice to you all this year, it is not to sweat the small stuff. At the end of the day, no one will really care, or remember, if the Yorkshire’s aren’t perfectly risen, the napkins are folded into symmetrical swans, or whether the table decor is colour coordinated.

The big day really is all about making memories.

And if you have small people looking up at you, spend every possible moment with them, rather than stressing in the kitchen over perfecting the perfect canapés. If you have elderly relatives, sit with them, hold their hand, listen to their memories and cherish them while you still can. Laugh together, instead of lamenting the lacklustre legumes. Play games. Be silly. Those are the moments you will look back on and remember with the most affection.

But if you do happen to have the skills to effortlessly transform your Christmas table into something akin to a glossy magazine photo-spread, then go pour yourself a large one and toast your creativity (but do beware of an empty stomach).

However, if cracking out a table runner seems ridiculously impractical to you, simply enjoy the day your own special way. After all, there are no real rules. Prep what you can, but don’t fret the frivolities, and although it sounds terribly cliched, try not to focus on the contents of your Christmas table this year, but on the faces that light up all around it.

I’VE GOT

CAMELTOE

A canny old Scottish chap calls his son, in London, the day before Christmas Eve. "I hate t’ruin yer day, son, but I have to tell ye that your mother and I are divorcing after 45 years of misery, the noo.”

"Dad! What are you talking about?” his son shouts.

"We just can’t stand the sight of each other any longer,” his father insists. "We’re sick to the back teeth of one another. So call your sister, in Leeds, and tell her for me, will you?”

Frantically, his son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone, "Like hell they’re getting a divorce! I’ll take care of this.”

So she calls Scotland immediately and screams at her father, "You’re not getting divorced. Don’t do a single thing until I get there.

In fact, I’m calling my brother back and we’ll both be there.

See you tomorrow, Dad. Don’t do a damn thing, promise?”

And with that she hung up.

The old man turned to his wife and sniggered, "Looks like we’ll be having a family Christmas after all, Maureen!”

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BOXING DAY

“IT’S CHRIIIISTMASSSS!” As Noddy Holder and Slade continue to let us all know every December through supermarket speakers the length and breadth of the country, or even as early as late October in some properly irritating establishments Whatever happened to the great Christmas number one’s of old?

When I was a kid, one of the best things about Christmas was finding out who would achieve Christmas number one status in the pop charts and with it gain a certain immortality, to be played every year thereafter.

I think the last half-decent tune that had a proper Crimbly feel to it was Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas’ (sing along now, folks), so it's really no wonder all the older songs continue to get replayed as these days there’s nowt decent coming out. N.B. Not to mention yet another cock awful X-Factor cover version that’ll no doubt have been well and truly slaughtered.

Bowie, Queen, George Michael, even Wham! All great bands/singers that got involved in the true ‘festive feel’. And who doesn't get slightly emotional whilst having a Christmas brandy and listening to John Lennon or Band Aid belting out two of the all time great Christmas tunes?

DIE HARD Definitely one of the best Christmas movies in my humble opinion and to this day, I still try and watch it every Christmas Eve. “Yippee ki yay!”

But seriously, whatever happened to the Christmas Day movie?

It used to be on BBC1 immediately after the Queen’s speech, right after the family had polished off the last of their sprouts. We’d all settle down and watch a true popcorn blockbuster, everyone together throughout the land. After all, it’s tradition, isn’t it? Sadly, what with modern technology, everyone now has 24/7 access to whatever they want to watch, whenever they want to watch it, so a BBC premiere doesn't quite cut the mustard the way it used to.

I’ve lost count how many times I’ve watched ‘Back to the Future’ and ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ after originally recording them on Christmas day.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Every Boxing day we would all gather round at my Nan and Grandad Attrell's for what was very much like a second Christmas day, with yet another roast for lunch, followed by cold meats and other festive goodies in the evening.

I definitely miss that feeling of sheer and utter excitement that I used to have as a kid when Christmas came to town.

My Mum always reminds me how I seemingly used to be ill over the Yuletide period, probably because I would get myself so worked up as the big day approached.

I literally didn't used to be able to sleep on Christmas Eve night. Well, it felt like that, but I must have managed a couple of hours because at 4.00am I would look down towards the bottom of my bed and always see an extra full stocking, while the first thing I did when I woke up was to check to see that the food and drink we’d left out for Santa and his reindeers had been consumed.

Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, Christmas as a kid was always brilliant for me, thanks to my Mum and Dad. They somehow always managed to surprise me and always bought me far too many presents. But I was genuinely always grateful for what I got and appreciated how hard they both worked throughout the year to make Christmas day such a special day for us all. They always made sure we ‘never went without’ and that taught me values that I still hold incredibly dear to this day even though I'm sure my daughter, Maisy, and my wife, Michelle, might say different after I totally ruined Christmas day for us last year by trying to sort out our 02 contracts, as I was sick of the signal not working as we couldn't contact, send or receive messages to/from family and friends. I definitely won't be doing that again this year, that's for sure. Instead, Christmas day and Boxing day will be spent with family in Ye Olde village of Kelvedon, where I'm sure good times, plus plenty of food and drink, will be had by one and all.

I’m also looking forward to the Boxing day football where we will all do family sweepstakes. Well, I've got to try and make the festive footy fun, haven’t I, as West Ham’s results are normally worse over the festive period than they normally are. I can see us going down quicker than the Christmas decorations at this rate.

Also, just so no one gets offended when they don't receive a Christmas card from us, we tend not to send them anymore as my better-half came up with the great idea of donating to charities instead with the money that would have gone on the cards.

This year we have decided to donate to Age UK. So let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, as the late, great Dean Martin once sang.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Peace & Joy from The Polaks x

‘3D’ E L VERS F ION

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J Gard & Sons Ltd., who used to ply their trade just off the Army & Navy roundabout - remember? - was first established way back in 1919 by Jack Gard. He moved to Chelmsford from Debford to work as a timber handler.

After learning the trade, Jack set up in business for himself from a site in Beehive Lane and started chopping and selling firewood (from little acorns, eh?) which at that time was an essential commodity.

In 1921, Jack expanded the business and more land was obtained, in the shape of a small mill which was built in order to retail timber, fencing and sheds. As the company continued to blossom, it moved to a greenfield site in Baddow Road, which is now Parkway, long before the Army & Navy roundabout was even a thought.

Gard’s continued trading throughout the good times and the not so good, even having to dismantle their very own racks to sell as lengths of timber during World War II, as well as surviving the recessions that followed.

Yet throughout the years, whatever they’ve had to deal with, Gard’s has remained a family business. Today, Kevin Gard, great grandson of the founder, is now one of the directors who is hoping to carry the company forward well into the next century of trading.

Martyn Gard, MD, and yet another grandson of the founder, took the company to new premises in East Hanningfield in 2005, as by then, partly due to the ever increasing traffic, the old Gard’s had far outgrown its Parkway site and a move was clearly the only way the company would be able to continue to develop its business.

Gard’s site in East Hanningfield offers adequate customer parking and can enable trading well into the future. Now one of the largest independent timber merchants in Essex, Gard’s offers a full range of timber and fencing materials to both the trade and the general public. Good customer service has always been key to their business and with friendly and knowledgeable staff, this has always been what sets Gard’s apart from the superstores, along with keen pricing and an enviable range of stock.

Whether it’s a full garden makeover or merely a replacement length of bespoke skirting board, Gard’s cover all aspects of timber and associated products. What’s more, to this day, they still offer a specialist machining and full cutting service on site. Together with a fleet of 10 vehicles, Gard’s can now also offer a full range of bagged decorative stones and aggregates for delivery, along with porcelain and sandstone paving.

Gard’s staff recently celebrated the company’s 100 year anniversary with a weekend away at the Potters Resort in Norfolk, while regular customers have all been given celebratory free gifts, together with goodie bags with each and every delivery.

Keeping up to date with the very latest technology, as well as sticking with traditional values, has always been foremost in the company’s mind, whilst it hopes to launch a full online service early in 2020, along with a brand new user-friendly website.

Martyn Gard has always prided himself on good old fashioned customer service and stands by his father’s motto of: “A satisfied customer is our best advertisement”. www.gards.co.uk

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Brand NEW Prom Dress Shop opening in Chelmsford Jan’20

Special Preview Events 14th, 15th, 19th, 20th December 10am - 4pm

Come along and see our fantastic selection of Prom dresses - please call for an appointment.

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Sizes 4 - 24 available But you’d best not do it all year round. Oh, no, no, no, no. All that pastry would undoubtedly have consequences. But at Christmas? Sure. At Christmas, it is definitely okay to ‘mince’.

Oooooh, warm mince pies, fresh from the oven, where the mince is still ‘bubbling’ a bit and lifting the pastry lid ever so slightly. Mmmmmmm.

And then what you need is a nice big dollop of that firm brandy cream/butter stuff, so that it starts to decadently melt all over your little pie.

Then, once consumed, damn right, you jolly well mince about ’til your little heart’s content. Simply squeeze your buttocks, like Spike (Rhys Ifans) did whilst sporting his grey Y-fronts in Notting Hill, and ‘affect the gait’.

Or, if you really want to push the boat out, you could eat a mince pie whilst at the very same time (double-whammy) ‘affecting the gait’. In other words, yes, very much so, mincing.

Surely Freddie Mercury was the greatest mincer of all time? That mince in particular he did across the stage at Live Aid will probably go down as the greatest mince in history.

It was brimming with both grace and panache, where as Mr. Wilberforce Clayborne Humphries, to give him his full title, from the sitcom Are You Being Served? Nah. That’s far too much of a mince (a mince too far, in other words), is that. He was enough to set one’s teeth on edge.

Chatty Man Alan Carr and the greatest chat show host of all time, Graham Norton, can both carry a mince off with a certain aplomb. But Larry Grayson and all of his ‘Shut that door’ nonsense, nooooooo.

Then again, was there anyone better than Kenneth Williams? He was an absolute ‘ledge’, was Kenny, in all of his Carry On escapades.

But we’re getting somewhat off piste, as the true stars of the Christmas show are definitely mince pies. After all, they just ooze EAT ME, far more so than a plastic packet of Eat Me dates ever does (not to mention that long plastic prong thing they give you to spear the wrinkly bleeders).

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 20/11/2019 13:33 Page 14

Looking for some extra storage space in your kitchen?

If so, here’s some helpful advice on space saving and internal features from those friendly folk at Regal Kitchens (see back cover).

1. Floor-to-ceiling larders are such a good idea for small spaces. These handy units allow you to keep dry goods all in one place. Some new larders available from Regal suppliers contain shelving as well as personalised drawers to make them practical as well as beautiful.

2. Corner solutions come in many different options and styles. In particular, Regal love the Ninka from Hafele, but also heap high praise on revolving carousels, magic corner units and Le Mans corners too, which have already proven to be extremely popular with many of their clients for both ease of use and easy to reach contents.

3. Wine fridges often drop off the ‘wish list’ when space is limited. But instead of taking up vital space in your normal fridge, why not opt for a slim-line wine fridge, so that your favourite tipple is always close at hand and at the perfectly desired temperature too.

4. Integrated kitchen bins are a great way of giving any kitchen that super sleek look and are also perfect for decluttering, as well as being especially useful in a compact kitchen that wouldn’t offer the floor space for a freestanding bin or two.

5. Space saving sinks can even feature a chopping board that slides over the sink, in order to give you extra food preparation space, combined with clever compartments to the sides that can also allow you to wash and store vegetables so that they are ready for prep. Then, tasks completed, simply slide back the board to reveal your sink.

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Page 14

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Well known local builder Frederick J French have recently opened a brand new boutique designer bathroom & wellness showroom in Beehive Lane, Chelmsford. Specialising in luxury bathrooms from Villeroy & Boch, Hansgrohe AXOR, Bisque and Roman Showers, they can design the ideal relaxation room especially for you.

Speaking to them recently, they informed The Edge, “We are proud to be the only showroom in the area to offer not only high-end luxury products, but also a brand new, state-of-the-art, 4D virtual reality design experience, together with a working, innovative ‘Rainforest’ demonstration room.”

Clearly the FJF team are excited to be working with Villeroy & Boch to bring their exclusive products to the Chelmsford area.

But it’s hard not be impressed, when looking around their impressive new showroom, by the latest Villeroy & Boch range, whether you are looking for that ‘boutique hotel look’ where your brand new bathroom is concerned, or something just that little bit different. If so, check out their Finion or Antheus ranges. Or if you’re after a modern, fresh design, then look no further than the superb value-for-money Avento or SoHo ranges. In fact, there really is something for everyone at FJF and whether you know exactly what you want, or you would like to explore your options, FJF can definitely help you with one of their free bathroom design consultations.

From full bathroom suites, shower rooms and bathroom furniture, through to choices of tiles, finishes, fixtures and fittings, FJF really do offer solutions to inspire both your taste and your imagination.

New store manager Chris Harding offers a wealth of experience and very much looks forward to meeting the first flow of customers looking to turn their bathroom dreams into reality. “What we have to offer really is an exciting project to be involved in and I cannot wait to show people all of the innovative features our showroom has to offer,” says Chris. “For those wanting to see their new bathroom design in stunning 4D, we are most definitely the place to visit. What’s more, we also encourage our customers to be fully involved in the design process so that they end up getting exactly what they are looking to achieve. I am here to make dreams come true!”

Fredrick J French currently have two fantastic opening offers available. One is ‘VAT FREE’ on all products (excluding installation), which is an amazing pre-Christmas saving not to be found anywhere else locally. Also there’s a FREE DESIGN SERVICE worth £250. So if you are curious, why not pop down to their brand new bathroom & wellness centre in Beehive Lane, Chelmsford, or visit www.fjfrenchbathrooms.co.uk The team eagerly awaits!

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 20/11/2019 14:06 Page 16

In The Edge household, Christmas Day always kicks-off with smoked salmon, scrambled eggs and granary toast, but not served quite like the above. For starters (a) We don’t really do beige (b) The plate will be white, but bigger and squarer (c) The fork will be on the left whilst a knife will also be involved, clearly on the right (d) The toast is always placed around the main ingredients, so that the bread doesn’t get soggy.

There will also be copious amounts of cracked black pepper involved, together with some freshly sliced lemon, plus a glass of champagne each (it is Christmas Day, after all) at around about 10:00am.

How anyone can not like smoked salmon is completely beyond me, because I absolutely adore the stuff, but Edge Mum isn’t so keen, only she won’t be visiting as it’s always just me and the missus, thank god.

If you have family and/or friends that are coming to visit you and you do genuinely want them to be with you, then that’s swell, I envy you. However, if you have family and/or friends who are coming to visit you and you’d honestly rather they weren’t (because let’s face it, the split is surely as close as the Brexit divide), then genuinely, you have my deepest sympathy.

Once breakfast’s over and done with, the plates will get loaded into the dishwasher (hand on heart, I haven’t a clue how to work our dishwasher, but my wife loves it, whereas I’m old school and am sure I could get along just fine without it) and then will commence the opening of ‘the present’.

Sprinkle some this

MAGIC

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Page 16

Far more likely than not, as there’s just the two of us (it’s no real excuse, I know, but it’s the best I can come up with), we’ll probably opt for a turkey crown. We’ve had things like a Kelly Bronze in the past, but so long as it’s as moist as possible (tricky) and there’s a nice slab of stuffing beside it oh, and it’s just got to be Stokes cranberry sauce (trust The Edge on this, readers, as there’ll be no going back if you do) - then we’re happy.

But one thing we don’t do is go overboard.

For instance, there’ll be no peas.

And we’ll only cook one roasted spud between us.

But there will be some of those long carrots with the green stringy leaves on the end that the wife makes look all glazed and appetising. And Brussel Sprouts too, as we both absolutely love them (how can you not?). And roasted parsnips (Mmmmmmmm) with a nice rich gravy. And I’ve even broached the subject of having a Yorkshire (singular) each this year, but I’m not 100% confident how that went down with my beloved.

Oh and some ickle pigs-in-blankets (you’ve just got to have those).

But that’s pretty much it.

Whilst the trick is always to serve it up as piping hot as humanly possible, as there’s surely only one way it’s going to go thereafter.

By which time it’s already starting to get dark outside, so once we’ve cleared up, do we succumb to an afternoon snooze, or don’t we?

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 20/11/2019 13:34 Page 17

I do.

I oh so do.

Always have.

Whether it’s served with piping hot custard (everything has to be served piping hot so far as I’m concerned) or brandy sauce/cream, I don’t care.

I just love the stuff, particularly if it’s got big chunks of fruit and nut in it.

But we generally wait and have ours a couple of hours after we’ve had our Christmas lunch, as it’s nice to properly savour it - and you can’t do that if you’re eating out, can you? It’s starters/mains/dessert, crash/bang/wallop, one dish served pretty much after you’re still chewing on the last one.

That doesn’t float my boat at all.

In fact, we used to always go out for Christmas lunch (our very first one together was to a restaurant in Roxwell, right on a bend in the village, that’s no longer there anymore - was it called the Farmhouse Feast?).

Then there was Waterfront Place and The Blue Strawberry in Hatfield Peverel a couple of times, but these days we never do.

Well, you can’t wear your Barb & Jim Royle’s in such establishments, can you, and it’s nice to have an elasticated waistband on 25th December.

I also used to hate it if the restaurant was too warm and one’s paper crown would become decidedly - well, it looked terrible half-covered in sweat and stuck to one’s forehead. Not a ‘good look’ for a local editor at all.

Christmas Day wouldn’t be Christmas Day without the evening cheeseboard, would it?

No bread. No tomatoes. Pretty much just cheese, crackers, green grapes, and a couple of jars of quality relish/pickle.

After you’re Christmas lunch, you tend to feel as though you’ll never want to eat anything ever again, don’t you? But of course, come 9:00pm, when you really shouldn't be eating anything at that time of day/evening at all, one tends to think that yes, indeed, one could perhaps force a few extra slivers down, as it’s Christmas after all.

So away you go, filling your boots, perhaps with a glass of two of Dow’s Port, The Edge’s particular favourite (although I confess I only ever buy it unless it’s ‘on special’ as I can slosh that gorgeous stuff down my neck at exactly the same rate as I can red wine, which is rather heartily indeed).

By which time, of course, you’ll have your feet up and be watching whatever you’ll be watching on TV. Will that be reruns of The Two Ronnies, or perhaps Rodders & Del-Boy? Or do you, like us, sometimes crack open a box set, particularly as you can dip-in and dip-out between Christmas and the New Year.

Personally speaking, I often tend to get a little down in the dumps at around the 6:00pm mark. Not sure what it is, but I generally do. Which naturally calls for yet more champers, red wine, or Abbot Ale to perk me up.

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Back in 1971, I went to see Steve McQueen as a Porsche racing driver in a movie called Le Mans, the famed French 24-hour endurance race, but I was only 10, so I don’t remember all that much about it. However, I’ve only just returned from the really rather luxurious Cineworld at Braintree, where Le Mans ’66 is far fresher in my mind, and it’s a movie that definitely benefits from being seen on the big screen.

Unlike the 1971 version, this one’s all about Ford v Ferrari, whilst focusing of maverick Brummie (lousy accent) race driver Ken Miles (Christian Bale) and good old Texas boy car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon).

To cut a long story short, in 1963, Henry Ford II, after a bit of a ‘to do’ with Enzo Ferrari, instructs his racing division to build him a car to defeat the Italians at Le Mans. They appoint Shelby, who won Le Mans himself in 1959, but was forced to quit due to a heart condition. Shelby subsequently enlists British racing driver and struggling mechanic Ken Miles.

Together, Shelby and Miles test the Ford GT40 mk.1 prototype at Los Angeles International Airport, attempting to eliminate all of its design flaws until it is race ready. But Ford don’t care for Miles. He is far from ‘the company man’. So they send a couple of other drivers to Le Mans ’64 instead and, as predicted by Miles, none of the cars finish the race.

While Henry Ford II sees it as a humiliating defeat, Shelby points out that, on the contrary, Ferrari are probably now quaking in their boots, as the GT40 reached 218mph on the Mulsanne straight, before breaking down.

So Shelby and Miles continue to develop the GT40 mk.II, although the latter is nearly killed when the car’s brakes fail during testing.

Still unwanted by the Ford hierarchy, Shelby brokers a deal with Henry Ford II, after ‘taking him out for a little spin’ in the car they’re busting their balls to perfect, and wagers his own company that if Miles wins the Daytona 24hr race, he will be allowed to race at Le Mans.

This movie is fully 2hrs 30 mins long and thank god for that, as it allows this incredible story to be told at the right speed.

You might also be interested to know that Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt were originally cast in the starring roles, but those plans fell through.

What’s more, this isn’t just a movie for Petrolheads, as Mrs Edge was thoroughly engrossed throughout.

However, it was actually a bit of a slow burn for me - I found Rush far quicker to engage with - but it definitely got there in the end, and then some.

EDGE VERDICT: Well worth watching.

Page 18

***

CINEWORLD

BRAINTREE

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TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE There’s a little game I like to play when I’m driving about these days.

It’s called ‘Spot the Dud Light’.

I’m nowadays noticing more and more vehicles that have either front, rear or brake lamps which are not working. My other bugbear are lights that are misaligned, so that a vehicle coming towards you streams light straight into your eyes. That’s so much fun, particularly on a dark night, on a wet road.

Do drivers really not notice, or care, that they are impairing another road user’s vision? Or do they simply not give a rat’s arse, knowing that they’re unlikely to be stopped for such an offense?

Drivers need to get their significant other to check that their lights are all working correctly before they next drive in the dark. Winter is here, people. It’s right here, right now!

Furthermore, if you think it’s okay to operate your vehicle in an unroadworthy condition, then take a gander at ‘The Road Vehicles Lighting Regulations 1989 – Part III’.

And why not try my new little game next time you’re driving in the dark with your kids? It sure beats ‘I Spy’.

IT’S ALL CREAM TO ME I’ve ‘had a man in’ (careful, now!) to decorate my bedroom. I can wield a paintbrush myself without getting too much of it all over me, not to mention the carpet and anywhere else it’s not supposed to go, although I’d gladly pin a medal on the first person to come up with a gloss that doesn’t need cleaning with White Spirit.

I’m ashamed to admit that my garage is the final resting place for many a now useless and dried up old paintbrush, and all because I couldn’t be bothered to clean them with the ‘devil juice’. But I don’t/can’t/won’t wallpaper. I tried it once, but never again. I’ve long been of the opinion that wallpapering is a ‘lost art’, the secret of which is known only to the incredibly skilled men and women of the decorating trade.

However, I digress. Here’s the problem. I’m not big on decision making.

I’m both an impulsive decision maker, and also a procrastinator, which is not always a comfortable combination. So, choosing wallpapers and paint colours can be both a pleasant shopping experience, yet also an extremely frustrating one for me. I therefore always make numerous visits to suppliers, take home scrappy samples of wallpaper, stick them to the wall and just hope that I’ll gain some much needed inspiration.

Only then there’s the question of neutral coloured paint, which they call ‘cream tea’, ‘gardenia’, even ‘snow white’. They can call it ‘three day old porridge’ for all I care, but ultimately it’s all flipping magnolia! Is there some sad geek in a broomcupboard somewhere, tapping a pencil against their teeth, before putting two random words together in the hope of sending the paint purchasing public into a buying frenzy?

Altogether far too fanciful of me?

BTW , ‘my man’ did a smashing job on my bedroom, showing great patience with me and my many trips to buy - then return - numerous wallpapers, before finally making up my

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FINALLY Chief Elf Shaun, our editor, has asked me for a seasonal offering. So here’s my twist on an original.

‘On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me: A chocolate advent calendar (I’m hoping I’m on Santa’s nice list).

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me: One single day without the mention of the ‘B’ word.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me: NO SNOW. I know. Most seem to like the idea of it, but it really isn’t much fun as when you get to a ‘certain age’, you don’t bounce so well when you slip over.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: A man that doesn’t rush around the shops on Christmas Eve and panic-buys unsuitable underwear for his ‘significant other’ that will undoubtedly result in a New Year’s credit note.

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: A succession of supermarket delivery vans, blocking the roads and pavements with their monstrously filled trays.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: A trip to any store that isn’t playing a loop of cheesy Christmas ‘musac’. Are the poor store assistants not allowed to wear ear plugs?

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me: the Christmas edition of the Radio Times. When that big boy drops through my

letterbox, I will cheerfully admit that Christmas is truly upon us.

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: the company, laughter, tears, talking-therapy, and generous advice of a group of strong, gutsy, friends.’ So don’t sit in alone when you can join a group, club or society of like-minded souls.

I’ve learned that you’re never too old to learn and enjoy something new.

But despite my seasonal bitching, I’m with Charles Dickens, when in ‘A Christmas Carol’ he writes: “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it throughout the year.”

A happy Christmas and New Year to you all, and thanks for reading.

Editor’s note: What the hell happened to days nine, ten, eleven and twelve, Ann???

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Back by popular demand!

DEAKS

Well hello once again, reader.

Seriously, I honestly can’t believe it’s December already. Where the hell did this year go? It might be an age thing, but I’m sure days, weeks and even whole months are being removed from my life without me even knowing about it.

Do you ever get that feeling?

When I have more time, I might check through my diary, as there are definitely a couple of months this year that I cannot recall happening at all. Personally, I blame the EU. Or possibly aliens might have abducting me, no doubt at the end of a particularly heavy drinking session.

It’s a great shame that the Coleen Rooney and Rebecca Vardy spat has died down, as I was really enjoying that. Two overly entitled WAGS knocking lumps out of each other, while their husbands stood by and just watched. Fellow WAGS, taking the golden opportunity for a bit of extra media time, also started spouting their opinions, whilst in the process showing just how dumb they really are. To be fair, Coleen has played an absolute blinder, because she hasn’t actually accused Mrs Vardy of anything at all. She has simply stated that the leaks have come from her account. Meanwhile, the Sun newspaper has been very clever by constantly fuelling the fire, whilst all along clearly knowing who their source really is. They could have surely brought it all to a swift and dignified end (nah, too late for that already), simply by confirming who their source was, or at the very least confirming that it was not Mrs Vardy, if that is indeed the case. But where would have been the fun in that?.

So let’s get back to my little adventure in life, shall we? I seem to recall I’d got as far as telling you about me joining one of the big surveying firms in London way back in 1987, whom I will refer to as Coughdrop Bollock & Bellend to protect the innocent. This also coincided with me moving to live up in the old smoke, in Clapham to be precise, with my secretary, if you

really want to know. Living in Clapham was amazing, as you could really get quite drunk as it was only half-a-dozen stops from the West End. But things weren’t always that simple. For instance, I remember one time I caught the tube from Leicester Square, very much the worse for wear, only to wake up at Balham, which is one stop past Clapham. So off I got, staggered over to the other platform to catch a train going back in the opposite direction, and although needing to travel only the one stop, lo and behold, I woke up at Leicester Square once again. I actually managed to perform this self same feat on more than one occasion, so to avoid it ever happening again, I started to lean against the sliding doors of the carriage so that if I ever fell asleep (yes, whilst standing), the concrete platform would inevitably break my fall. Problem solved!

Another funny story I recall was when one of the lads in the team was working late on the phones whilst the rest of us (we were all in the pub, if memory serves me right) kept ringing him as he was trying to complete his quota. I will call him David, because that was his name, and he was getting exceedingly irritated by the time he had answered the phone for the umpteenth occasion. So the next time it rang, he simply picked up and shouted “What? No one’s f cking here!” To which he received the swift reply of, “Do you know who* I am? I am the chairman of Coughdrop Bollock & Bellend.” To which David replied, quick as a flash, “But do you know who I am?” When he received a negative response, he said “Good!” and promptly put the phone down. David was really great value. One of those blokes who’s always in the shit; it was just the depth that varied.

Blimey, I’ve only moved forward about 6 months, so I’d better take a leap, otherwise we’ll never get to the juicy bits. I lived in Clapham for just over two years and then moved to South Woodford E18 (yes, still in cahoots with my secretary) in order to make the regular weekend trips back to Chelmsford to collect my young sons a little bit easier. We lived in a 200 year old end of terrace house that had a ghost that regularly dislodged pictures from the walls and turned the TV on during the night, proper Poltergeist style. The final straw came just before we decided to move back to Chelmsford, when we opened the loft hatch above the stairs, a height of some 20’ from the top step. Honest to god, even Scooby Doo would have struggled with ‘The Mysterious Happenings of Albert Road E18’.

So readers, that’s now November out of the way for yet another year, so you can all remove your poppies from your lapels - although I do hope you’ve all been wearing one with pride - or, like me, your poppy wristband.

It’s one of only a few appeals that I always make sure I support, due to the sacrifice made by millions for the rest of us during those two world wars, plus other conflicts which should never be forgotten.

In fact, I was telling my kids just the other day about their great grandfather Ernest Chapman, who fought in the First World War in 1915/16. He served with the West Kent Regiment and he was gassed and injured at the Battle of the Somme in Northern France in 1916. Nearly one million people died in that bloody battle alone and nearly 20 million died in the First World War between 1914-18. When he returned to the UK, he was cared for in a war hospital and there he met my grandmother, Ethel Maud Kehner, who became his wife. They had seven children together, one of which was my Mum, who had my brother and me after she’d met my Dad, and then I had my sons by my ex-wife. My eldest son, Gary, and his wife Samantha, are now having their own little baby, due in March 2020, and you know what? None of that would have been remotely possible had Ernest Chapman died, like so many others did over 100 years ago. Isn’t life simply amazing?

Anyway, I suppose I’d better wrap this column up for yet another month.

I hope you are enjoying my ramblings as much as I am enjoying writing them. So TTFN for now and a very Merry Christmas to you all.

DEAKS. gmdeakin@googlemail.com

That you can’t even be bothered to go out and pick up a copy of The Edge?

Well it’s lucky for you that you don’t have to.

Simply log onto www.theedgemag.co.uk/subscribe and Bob’s your uncle, it’s absolutely FREE! Or head to The Edge’s Facecock page and click on the online subscription link/button/thingy.

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the

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A young and handsome Deaks (aged approx. 31) with his sons Gary (left) 6 and James (right) 4.

The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 20/11/2019 14:21 Page 21

BOXING DAY For as long as I can remember it was a tradition to go and watch West Ham on Boxing Day (I know, I know - as if dry turkey, Brussel Sprout farts and numerous repeats of ‘Miranda’ wasn’t enough punishment over the Christmas period).

Unfortunately that particular tradition is now a distant memory, ever since The Irons moved into the athletics stadium at Stratford.

You see, rumour has it that West Ham are no longer allowed to play at home on Boxing Day, as the fans may cause upset to the nearby shoppers at Westfield.

Now I appreciate they are only rumours, but since we moved into that stadium, we have not had a single fixture at home on Boxing Day, which is surely too long for it to be a mere coincidence.

It’s ridiculous. As fans, we are already banned from walking through the outside areas of the shopping centre on matchdays, whilst being simultaneously herded

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about by pillocks with massive STOP and GO signs.

And it’s this type of killing off of historic tradition in favour of corporate enterprise that has resulted in me losing my love for the beautiful game. Which is why I am seriously considering boycotting both West Ham and Westfield in the future.

Granted I won’t have any new clothes, but I also won’t have to suffer shite football either.

FUNNY THINGS It won’t be because I’ve left the giblets in the turkey that will doubtless make me choke this Christmas. It will be the sight of Jeremy Corbyn being handed the keys to number 10.

Now I don’t honestly think for one minute that will happen. In fact, there is probably more chance of me catching Santa coming down our chimney - and we don’t even have a chimney. But with all of the current frustration surrounding Brexit, the voting public are often prone to doing some funny things, occasionally out of protest.

What is of genuine concern is that traditional Conservative voters might vote for Nigel Farage’s Brexit Party, simply out of frustration for Brexit not being delivered, which could inevitably lead to an opportunity for Labour and the Lib Dem’s to win more seats in marginal areas.

For me, that is the worst gift we could possibly receive for

Christmas and I am almost certain it would lead to a second referendum on Brexit, only this time all of the options on the ballot paper would be removed. Instead, I can very well imagine it would read something like: Do you (a) Want to remain, or (b) Remain in Europe.

PARKING FINE UPDATE For those of you eagerly awaiting an update on the parking fine I received a few months back, I am pleased to report that someone at the Council has seen sense, revoked the ticket and called off the debt collectors.

Obviously I am delighted with the outcome, but still really frustrated by how the situation arose in the first place.

What annoys me is how many times do totally uncalled for situations like these happen, or how many people get issued with totally unfair parking tickets and simply pay them anyway?

I know a lot of people who would simply settle fines, even if they had done nothing wrong, particularly if they were faced with a burly debt collector.

You may recall that I had experienced difficulty in putting my case across to the debt recovery agency as they were totally impossible to get hold of. This has been referred to their complaints department and they have acknowledged an issue with their internal system. Yet despite that admission, they have

Billy Hinken not offered me any apology whatsoever for the stress and inconvenience they have caused and that is why I will continue to pursue this through their complaints process and applicable regulator, if necessary. As Kevin McAllister would say, “Merry Christmas, you filthy animals”.

billy.hinken@gmail.com

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 20/11/2019 14:18 Page 22

ONLY JOKING! CHRISTMAS PAST

I love Christmas Past.

I guess I’m just so Santamental (groan).

BE CAREFUL Be extremely careful on the roads during the Festive holiday period. A lot of men will have been drinking profusely and their wives will be driving them home (oh my gawd).

SANTA’S LAP A married woman sits on Santa’s lap and purrs in his ear, “I wish my husband was far more interested in sex.”

So come Christmas morning and in one of her stockings is a bottle of pills called ‘Get It On’.

Excitedly, she reads: ‘Take one pill with food.

Use with caution.’

So she slips one pill in her husband’s Christmas dinner and that night they make love for an entire hour.

Well, the next day she is running about like a spring chicken, thrilled and very happy indeed.

So later that day, she decides to try two pills in his Boxing Day dinner. And that night, lo and behold, she is in heaven for two whole hours and once again the next day she is positively walking on air.

Preparing dinner on 27th December, she thinks, what the hell, and pours in the 12 remaining pills from the bottle.

A fortnight goes by and Santa is concerned that he hasn’t had a thank you letter from the lady.

So he checks his phone and gives her a call.

A little boy answers and Santa says, "Hello. Is your mummy at home?”

"No. She’s...she’s...who is this?”

Santa replies "Son, I’m a friend of your mothers and I sent her some pills for Christmas to help her out in the Bedroom Department and I was just wondering how she’s doing?”

"So that was you, was it?” says the little boy.

"Well let me tell you, my Mum mysteriously passed away, my sister’s pregnant, my bottom hurts and meanwhile, Dad’s up in the attic going, "Here, kitty kitty kitty!”

RELIGIOUS BRAINWASHING “What do we want?”

“The end of religious brainwashing.”

“When do we want it?”

“After Christmas.”

SANTA’S LAP (AGAIN) After all her children had sat on Santa’s lap, her kids insisted that their Mum had a go.

“And what would you like for Christmas?” Santa asked her.

"I’d like a unicorn, please.”

[No, no, no, there’s nothing as crass as ‘the unicorn in Santa’s breeches in this particular joke] Santa: "Be realistic!”

"Okay, well five minutes of peace so’s I can at least have a pee and enjoy a cup of coffee.”

Santa: "Okay, so what colour of unicorn would you like?”

TOP TIP Wrap some empty boxes up in wrapping paper and place beneath the Christmas tree.

Then every time one of your children starts playing up, throw one onto the fire.

(NB: a box, not a child)

ANGRY MICE Do you think angry mice send cross mouse cards to their nearest and dearest?

FROSTY THE SNOWMAN Frosty the Snowman was so worried about melting he got proper hooked on chill pills.

UNWRAPPING Every Christmas we used to run to the big pile of presents and start unwrapping them as fast as we could. Sometimes there'd be fights over who had the best, or the biggest, but we'd soon make up, before sitting down for a three hour lunch break before watching tele for the rest of the afternoon.

Ahhhh, I really miss Christmas at the Royal Mail sorting office.

CHRISTMAS TREE I went to buy a Christmas tree and the shop assistant said, "Are you thinking of putting it up yourself?"

(We may as well leave that joke there, shall we, readers, and you can surely think up your own punchlines for yourselves?)

CHRISTMAS GRATUITIES Chatting to my dustman the other day, he regaled me with a tale about her at number 74.

Reckons he tapped on her door, cap in hand, to wish her the compliments of the season. She answered, dressed in only a little teddy, thanked him for his salutations and enquired as to whether he was the driver of the refuse truck.

He told her he wasn't. At which point she grabbed him, dragged him inside, pushed him onto the sofa and proceeded to shag his frickin’ brains out.

After eventually staggering back outside, he revealed all to his mate, who thought he'd have a go at wishing her the season’s best as well.

Once again she asked if he was the driver and when he said no, she pulled him inside, got him on the stairs and ten minutes later he was back out in the street, wearing the biggest grin his mates had ever seen.

By now the driver was getting a bit hacked off as he wanted to get home for his tea. So he jumped out of his cab, demanded to know what was going on, and then he went and knocked at the door of number 74. After the normal pleasantries, she enquired as to whether he was the driver, and when he confirmed that indeed he was, she gave him a pound coin and thanked him for his usefulness throughout the previous twelve months.

When he queried the disparity between the crew and himself, she explained that her husband, when she’d asked him about the traditional season’s gratuities, had told her to “give the driver a pound and f all the rest of ’em.”

***

Q&A Q. How did Frosty the Snowman pay for all of his chill pills?

A. From his slush fund, of course.

DARLING “Mam, can we have a dog for Christmas?”

“No, darling. We'll jolly well have a turkey like everyone else in our street.”

BEST PRESENT EVER Best Crimbo present ever?

A broken drum.

Can't beat it!

Q&A Q. Why is Christmas just like your job?

A. Because you do all the work, but the fat guy in the suit gets all the credit (bum-bum).

CHRISTMAS EVE Three men die on Christmas Eve and float up to heaven, where they’re met by Saint Peter.

“In order to get in,” he tells them, “you must each produce something representative of the festive period.”

First man digs into his pocket and pulls out a match, lights it, and says, “This represents a candle of hope.”

Impressed, St. Peter lets him in.

The second man puts his hand down his pants, shakes his testicles, and says, “These are ringing bells on a Silent Night.”

St. Peter looks up to the Heavens and begrudgingly nods his acceptance.

Then the third man proudly produces a pair of red panties.

“What do these have to do with Christmas?” asks St. Peter.

Chap says, “They’re my Carol’s.”

RUDOLPH “Tonight’s the night we’ve waited a whole year for. Ooh, that feels sooo good. Come on, whip me. Whip me harder, you fat bastard. Pull my reins...”

Oh deer. It looks as though Rudolph’s been at the cooking sherry once again.

KING WENCESLAUS Not forgetting Good King WENCESLAUS, who liked his pizza deep pan, crisp and even.

Q&A Q. What do you call a kid who doesn't believe in Santa?

A. A rebel without a Claus.

RICH MAN, POOR MAN A poor man meets a rich man around about Christmastime.

The poor man asks the rich man, “What are you getting your wife for Christmas?”

The rich man replies, “Diamond earrings and a Mercedes.”

The poor man asks, “Why are you getting her two presents?”

The rich man says, “Because if she doesn’t like the earrings, she can drive to the jewellers and exchange them.”

The poor man nods.

Then the rich man asks him, “So what are you getting your wife for Christmas?”

The poor man thinks about this for a second or two and replies, “A pair of slippers and a dildo.”

The rich man asks, “Why those two things?”

The poor man says, “Well, if she doesn’t like the slippers, she can go and...”

Q&A Q. What has a Christmas tree and the Pope got in common?

A. They both have balls as ornaments.

LAST ONE Q. Why was Santa’s little helper so depressed?

A. Because he had low elf esteem.

Praise be to Nyx Trye for all those Crimbo jokes.

Far better than last months, yes, folks?

All jokes published are supplied by Edge readers. Please send your ‘egg yokes’ to shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 20/11/2019 14:19 Page 23

BALD LEGENDS

Intense Records celebrated its 20th Anniversary this year and are the only remaining independent record shop left in Chelmsford. Situated beneath the railway arches by the train and bus stations, Intense is a walk-in shop and online record store. Over the years, Intense have diversified, stocking alongside its original passion for dance music, all other genres, from rock to pop, indie to jazz, and everything else in between, from artists such as David Bowie, Prince, Miles Davis, The Rolling Stones and many, many more.

Christmas Gift Ideas: With people of all ages getting back into vinyl, this may be one of the most popular gifts this year. So if you don’t know what to buy that special person, they are there to help. They also sell vouchers so your special other can pop in and choose for themselves. And for those looking to start or upgrade their collection, Intense also stock a range of turntables and speaker packages from leading brands, starting at just £189, which includes a free selection of vinyl.

Intense Advent Calender: For Christmas they always have some amazing deals on offer and this year’s no different.

They have even brought back the Intense Advent Calender featuring exclusive deals on each and every day, from records and vinyl accessories to equipment and clothing. Yes, there’s a deal to be had for even the most discerning vinyl junkie!

Double Rewards For Christmas: If you are already signed up to the Intense in-store loyalty system, you will know that for every £1 you spend you earn 1 loyalty point, and when you reach 100 points you receive a £5 Intense voucher to spend on your very next visit. But in the lead up to Christmas they will be DOUBLING up to a massive £10 every time you reach 100 points. So if you aren’t signed up, it’s free to join, so simply ask in-store.

Used Vinyl - Buy & Sell: Over the past few years, Intense have been searching high and low for used vinyl collections and now boast a vast second-hand section with some classic albums from the 60s, 70s, 80s right up to the present day, from favourites like the Beatles, Iron Maiden, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and many more. “We have thousands of used vinyl collections across all styles, from rock to funk, soul to metal and many, many more,” says Intense owner Jon. “We’re a positive vinyl diggers treasure chest and we’re always on the hunt for more. So please give us a call and we’ll be happy can pop round, or just bring them in to us, if you prefer.”

Chelmsford Record Fair: Intense also organise the Chelmsford Record Fair held on the first Saturday of every month at the Ale House, just a few doors along from their store.

They have around 10 different sellers boasting a wide variety of records, from dance music to funk and soul, jazz, heavy metal and everything else in between. There are always many gems and classics to be found. Plus, to keep you entertained while you browse, they have live DJs and PA’s from some of the best local artists around. As well as, of course, some of the very best beers available in town at the Ale House. What more could you wish for?

The Intense Christmas Record Fair will be held on Saturday 7th December 10:00am -5:00pm.

If you haven’t been yet, make sure you check this one out!

He wasn’t a Dickensian character, the likes of Ebenezer Scrooge, you know. Ralph Coates was, in fact, a professional footballer back in the sixties and seventies, who made 480 appearances all told, for the likes of Burnley, Tottingham Hotspurs and Leyton Orient.

But it was Ralph’s flowing locks that The Edge remembers most, although it was hardly Charltonesque. No, Ralph’s was more like an auburn privet hedge that used to follow him about like an explosion in a mattress factory whenever he ran down the wing, after which he would swoop it back over his head once he’d booted the ball into Row ‘Z’.

Back in those days, footballers clearly didn’t know how to deal with losing their hair, because some of them were clearly that desperate to retain the illusion they still had some that they’d even go to such lengths as to propagate one of their frizzy armpit bushes, plaster it over their pate, and then walk around for ever more with one of their arms in the air, as though they were claiming a corner.

Of course, Sir Bobby Charlton’s was ‘the most famous swoop in football’, but The Edge truly believes that Ralph deserves the mantle.

And while we’re on the subject of times gone by, just look at his beautiful, 100% cotton football club jersey (above), with its simple, elegantly embroidered club crest just above his left teat.

Marvelous. No fuss. No bother. Whereas today, it’s all about sprayed-on nylon, with zig-zags here and kaleidoscope patterns there. As though someone’s just thrown up all over the bloody overpaid fairies.

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 21/11/2019 11:50 Page 24

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The Edge 01245 348256

The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 21/11/2019 11:36 Page 25

conditions out in the countryside, leaving it ripe to erupt in flame. Which it does, regularly.

OK, so this column has avoided politics for a few months.

But with yet another UK election imminent we must make a passing reference before moving on to other things.

On the east coast of the US the storms and hurricanes are getting ever more ferocious in their frequency, intensity and impact.

For here in the US, where, it has to be admitted, there is a similar divide between vastly different cultures – one that looks forward and one that looks backwards – the situation in the UK assumes a certain clarity.

Well, clarity of sorts. Another way of putting it is Jeez, what a feckin’ mess. The two main parties are led by people you wouldn’t want running a proverbial whelk stall.

One lies as easily as he drops his pants and is clearly in it only to massage his own ego. Old Etonian sells himself as the champion of the ordinary bloke. How does that work?

The other is, whatever you think of his policies, a charisma free OAP who should really stick to his allotment. You can’t imagine following him over the top in the trenches, can you?

Then there’s Farage who is wimping out of even putting himself up for election. After all, he’s failed seven times previously, so what’s one more humiliation? Why he’s seen as any sort of leader and given so much airtime is beyond understanding. And, incidentally, have you noticed he seems to have taken on a kind of Trumpian orange hue recently? Sunbeds are clearly de rigueur for wannabe alpha males. The Scots have their own agenda and the LibDems are staying true to their nice, but hopeless, geography teacher image.

Not a single leader amongst the lot of them. Just liars, charlatans, egotists, dreamers and opportunists. And at least one of them fits three of those categories. Whoever prevails, the UK looks knackered in the short term. And Brexit is unlikely to be ‘done’ for many a year yet because it’s far too difficult and complex. Perhaps it’s time to recognise that the reason it hasn’t been done, after three

The UK hasn’t seen the violent repercussions of climate change yet, but the time will come when parts of the coast disappear. You wouldn’t want to have a home in, say, Maldon, when that happens. OK, granted, you wouldn’t want to have a home in Maldon even now, but you understand the point. years, is because it was a stupid idea in the first place and maybe we should abandon the whole sorry concept?

Anyway, to other things. You may have noticed on the news that out here on the west coast, we’re in the throes of another wildfire season. Now, you can go one of three ways when it comes to figuring out why it keeps happening nowadays. You can act like an educated and intelligent person and recognise that the scientific evidence is now so overwhelming that climate change is a man made phenomenon you have to accept it.

Or you can believe that all those scientists are in some sort of deep state conspiracy to subvert a natural cycle for the nefarious purpose of controlling the proles, replacing white people with brown people, or some other loony bullshit idea.

Finally, you could take the moronic Trump line and insist it’s a hoax perpetrated by the Chinese (yes, there really are people who think that). But whichever of those lines you take, it seems unarguable that things are changing.

Weather is getting more extreme around the globe, in different ways, in different places. Out here in California the summers are hotter and drier. That leads to tinder box

So what’s to be done? Well, there is a small but increasing body of thought out here that accepts that fighting nature is a bit of a thankless task. Yes, that nice house by the beach in Florida is fabulously desirable, but there is the inevitability that sooner or later a huge storm is going to wash it away, or at the very least fill it with seawater and ruin the shagpile. Never mind, the insurance will pay, right? Wrong. Companies are now refusing to cover such properties, or if they do, the annual premiums are not much less than what the house is worth.

Similarly, out here in California, the increase in the number and scale of wildfires is making that house perched on the wooded hillside that looks so glamorous nothing more than a huge loss waiting to happen.

Unless you’re wearing a tinfoil hat, it’s accepted that action to cover climate change globally has to happen, and happen fast. But in certain parts of the world it’s already very personal. Individuals are having to make serious decisions about where it is actually feasible to live.

On the west coast, that’s already happening. And, as the old saying goes, where California leads, Maldon follows.

Or something like that.

From The Edge’s September editions, showing St. Margaret’s Road, Springfield, outside Essex Police College?

Followed up the following month in the October editions, when a chap called Tony Seaman contacted The Edge with, supposedly, a valid reason as to why this anomaly might have occurred.

Only now look what’s happened (see below). All gone.

Only this time, it’s me, readers, in a Citroen loan car, kind courtesy of Quest of Maldon.

I know. Tell me about it. It’s deplorable.

Truth is though, give me the freedom of a car-park, and if I haven’t got another car to line-up against, I am absolutely hopeless, as you can see.

Parallel parking, into tight gaps down the likes of Moulsham Street, no problem. I’m a whiz at that. But reversing into white-lined bays when no other cars are around, yep, I am absolutely atrocious.

Me and the driver of the car next to me had a good laugh about it though. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

ALL GONE

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 21/11/2019 11:36 Page 26

I

’m sure more than a few of you have read this month’s column title and rolled your eyes, just as I’m sure that many of you reading this are sick to the back teeth of Brexit. Some of you may even simply want to ‘Get Brexit Done!’ as the popular and simplistically ludicrous soundbite states.

KiNGPiN The Kingmeister reports

YULETIDE BREXIT BONANZA

While I understand the sentiment, I simply don’t agree with it. I know many business owners, particularly SME’s that trade with the EU, have been suffering because of the uncertainty. But for the rest of us? Oh, you’re bored of it, are you? You’re sick of seeing it on the news and in the papers? Well boo-hoo. Ask Santa for an attention-span for Christmas and stop whinging.

Whether you’re FOR or AGAINST, Brexit is going to change the course of this country and in varying degrees affect the lives of all of its 66+ million residents, possibly for decades. So it’s not something to just ‘get done’, unless you’re a complete moron, or Boris Johnson. If there was ever anything that needed doing right, that needed the highest level of research and due diligence, then it’s Brexit.

I agree that Parliament has definitely been a spectacle for the past 3+ years and the behaviour from both sides of the house has been less than stellar at times, but I think it has also shown some fine examples of people standing up for something they really believe in, so no, I don’t think it has been all bad.

So where are we after three and a half years of Brexit? Pretty much where we were at the beginning; just poorer and angrier. After 3 years and three Prime Ministers, we’ve got a deal that by all accounts is worse than the one that was voted down three times (voted down by the same mendacious buffoon that came up with the new deal, it should be noted). The rest of the world are either laughing at us, or wondering just what the bloody hell we’re doing to ourselves (apart from Trump and Putin, who think Brexit is great, and if that doesn’t ring any alarm bells, then I don’t know what will).

We’ve got MP’s defecting, or being sacked, left right and centre, the courts directly involved in British politics and a PM censured by those same courts for an unlawful action when he prorogued Parliament (which was totally not Brexit related, honest), while the same PM is telling us outright porkies (there will never be a border down the Irish Sea! Whoops, who put that there?) and the icing on the cake is large swathes of the country cheering him on.

Quite frankly, this is absolutely insane.

For some people, Brexit has become a cult and it must be done at all costs.

When we’re still arguing about it after 3+ years, it’s a bad idea. When the people that want it can’t even agree on how they want it, it’s a bad idea. When you have to spend billions just to lessen the impact of doing it, it’s a bad idea. If you consider all of the above and still think we should go ahead with it, simply because of a glorified opinion poll foisted on us by the Tories to stop their more right-wing elements defecting, then you’re a fool; a dangerous, ill-informed, over-zealous fool.

Let’s not forget the reason we’re in this mess is the Tories promising a referendum they didn’t want or believe in. They presented it as a farcically simplistic YES/NO question, with absolutely no plan of what to do if the answer came back as ‘yes’. Then still without a plan, they implemented Article 50, then refused cross-party collaboration while they argued amongst themselves about what sort of

Page 26

Dumb & Dumber Brexit we should have. The Tories then called a disastrous (for them) snap election before voting down the deal their leader came back with, before finally ousting her and lumbering us with our very own Poundshop Trump, a man who has bluffed, blustered and lied his way to an even worse deal, ending up with yet another election on Thursday 12th December.

Apparently though, it’s all the Remainers and Labour’s fault.

I know a lot of people aren’t happy about another general election, particularly so close to Christmas, but I’m glad we’re getting one, which brings me to my next point.

Get out there and vote!

I used to disdain voting and didn’t vote in an election for years, something I now believe was foolish and I regret. I’ve definitely become more politicised in my ‘old-age’ and I want to encourage people not to make the same mistake as me. Of course, you have every right not to vote, but if you don’t feel any of the parties truly represent you, then spoil your ballot paper, because at least that way you’re making a protest, rather than just opting out.

else’s, but let’s be brutally honest. If you’re a young person, then you’ve got more skin in the game than anyone, because you’re the ones who’ve got to live with the outcome for longer.

Before you vote though, please remember, you’re not voting for Brexit. You’re voting on the running of the entire country for the next five years. It’s also not a popularity contest. Spend a few hours doing your research. Read the manifestos and look back at their track-records. Are the manifestos detailed and fully costed or are they just promises and useless soundbites? Being able to choose who leads us is a privilege a lot of people don’t have, so take it seriously and put a little effort in.

Me? I’m voting Labour. The LibDems under Jo Swinson are just Tories with yellow badges, and while I admire a lot of the Green Parties’ policies, they just don’t have a chance to get the Tories out, and I genuinely believe we need them gone. After all putting the Brexit fiasco to one side, how’s the UK looking after 10 years of Tory rule and austerity?

Yes, I know some of us are doing OK (myself included), but that doesn’t mean the economy or the country are working. Education and the NHS have been eviscerated, millions of people rely on food banks even though they’re in work, disability benefits have been denied to thousands of people who deserve and need them, our police forces have been gutted and homelessness and poverty have risen through the roof, while the universal credit debacle is forcing some women to sell sex to survive and the gap between rich and poor gets wider and wider.

What’s happened to the national debt with all these billions saved (minus 1 billion for the Tory bung to the DUP, of course) by gutting public services and putting people on the street? Oops, it’s still gone up to over 2 trillion pounds.

I don’t know what the country will look like under Corbyn’s Labour, but I know what it looks like under the wilfully malicious policies of the Tories, and I don’t think that’s a country any of us can be proud of. Like I said last month, don’t rely on what I say, go and look into it yourselves, and I guarantee you’ll see the same trail of human wreckage the Tories are leaving behind them.

Your decision is your own, of course, but I genuinely can’t understand anyone who would knowingly vote for a party whose policies have caused so much misery, just because: “Well I’m doing alright and Corbyn’s a communist, because the Daily Mail says so.”

I particularly want to encourage any younger readers to vote. Typically, the under 30’s have the lowest voter turn-out of any demographic, while the over 50’s have the highest. Don’t like the way the country is being run? Don’t like the way a load of old men are making all of the decisions? Then get out there and vote, or you don’t have any right to moan about it.

It’s encouraging to see a surge in voting registrations for the under 30’s and I hope this continues.

You can register online in minutes and I can’t urge you to do so enough because your vote really does count. I’m not saying it counts more than anyone

The fact that Corbyn has been under a brutal and sustained attack from most of the millionaire owned media for the past 4 years just makes me want to vote Labour even more. If all the tax-dodging, non-domicile loophole leeches hate him so much, then he’s certainly not on their side, is he.

At the end of the day, whoever you vote for is your business, only please make sure it’s your own decision, as opposed to gullibly believing the first thing someone tells you. So take your time and make the effort and look into things a little more deeply and then decide who you think is best suited to run the country. Because ultimately, that decision is going to affect all of us. That’s how important it is.

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“OH, I’LL HAVE A SNOWBALL, IF I MAY?” Christmas comes but once a year and what I say is: “Thank the Lord for that!”

Now I love a bit of Christmas sparkle - all that tinsel and glitter and I’m in my element. I drive ‘Him Indoors’ mad asking him what colour we should decorate the tree this year? He looks at me as if I’m mad, which we all know there’s a little bit of truth in. But nevertheless, he nods politely, before going straight back to watching ‘Love Island’, as he just hates lugging all of the deccies down from the loft.

When I was a child, our old, well worn, threadbare tree would be brought down from the attic and assembled. One of the legs was always a bit rickety, so my Mum would always try to put a few more decorations on that side to even it out. Meanwhile, my Dad would spend hours trying to get the Christmas tree lights to work.

Back in the day, those Christmas tree lights were lethal. There used to be adverts on the TV every year warning of the dangers of electrocution from fiddling with the bulbs whilst they were turned on. I even remember one particular advert where it advised if your parents were withering on the floor, being electrocuted, you should get a wooden broom and separate them from the lights. Thereafter, I always used to have one eye on the brush and the other on my Dad, just in case! It never happened, but it was always a tense old time, waiting to see if both parents would survive ’til Christmas day.

My parents used to scream at each other throughout the proceedings: “You didn’t put the lights away properly last year.”

“I’ve already replaced that bulb. It’s definitely not that one.”

Most times the lights would be ripped off the tree and we would all jump in the car and drive to Woolworths to buy a new set.

We always had delicate glass decorations which once belonged to my Nan and each year another one would shatter and my Mum would go mad, shouting at us to be more careful.

Finally, the tree would be up and then we would start on the room. We used to have these tissue paper decorations that hung from the ceiling and were forever coming down. My Dad had a thing about drawing pins. He used to moan about all the holes, so my Mum was forever Sellotaping them back up. But the joke of it was that the Sellotape would take bits of paint off the ceiling, which looked much worse than drawing pin holes would have done.

My Mum and my Auntie Kath always used to save 50p a week each out of their

tracie123@aol.com

S N V

TOTALLY TRACIE

wages all year round for a couple of Christmas food hampers. The hampers would be dropped off at our house a few days before Christmas and it was always so exciting. My sister and I would be promptly dispatched to my Auntie’s house, just around the corner, to tell her that the hampers had been delivered. She would immediately put her coat on and rush round to ours with my cousin and then the fun would really began.

Both hampers had to be opened simultaneously and the contents of each laid out and checked meticulously. Once they had made sure everything was all present and correct, a pot of tea would be brewed and the bargaining would begin in earnest.

“Oh Chrissy, I don't think my Pete will eat tinned ham. Can I swop you it for your jar of pickles?” On and on it would go, for hours, until neither hamper looked anything like the ones that had been delivered.

But no-one ever swapped their tins of chocolate biscuits. They were sacrosanct.

Then we would all have to take a corner of the box and carry it back to my Auntie's house. Our hamper would always be placed under the stairs and my sister and I would keep going to take a peak at it, just to make sure no one had stolen it.

Christmas was also the only time of year that we had Coke and Lemonade in the house, while our little pull down bar would be checked for sufficient quantities of sherry, should a neighbour or two drop by.

My Nan would always show up on Christmas Eve to help with the cooking.

Every year my Dad would go mad. “I’m putting my foot down,” he used to say. “I’m not wasting money on a bottle of Advocaat just for her!” She only used to have one drink and the rest went to waste. “Nobody in their right mind drinks that rubbish!” my Dad used to say. But he’d always sneak off to the off license at the very last minute and buy a bottle before covertly smuggling it into our drinks cabinet for my Nan. Eventually, late on Christmas Eve, the cooking would be done and my Nan would sit on the sofa. Dad would say, “That’s it, Vi. Take the weight off. Do you want a drink?” Nan would always say, “Oh yes please, Raymond. Just the one. I’ll have an Advocaat and lemonade, if you’ve got one?” “Course I have,” my Dad would smile. “Got it in especially for you, Vi.” Dad would then do the honours and Nan would make such a big thing of it. “Oh Raymond, you do spoil me. It’s so expensive as well, and I only have just the one each year.” Dad would say, “As long as you enjoy it, Vi, that’s all that matters,” yet all the time he’d be moaning just out of earshot about her and the bloody waste.

Years later, I would always take a bottle of Advocaat round to my Nan’s house at Christmas and she would put it straight into the cupboard. One year I took a bottle round and when she opened her cupboard there must have been 4 unopened bottles all lined up in there. So I said, “Nan, why haven’t you drunk the Advocaat I’ve always brought you?” To which she replied, “I hate the bloody stuff, dear. I only used to drink it to wind that tight old sod of a father of yours up every Christmas!”

So there you have it - Christmas and families. But what's not to love, eh?

Have a good one!

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The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 21/11/2019 11:37 Page 28

Max Headroom’s

BIZARRE NEWS THOUGHTFUL PILOT

This is your captain speaking

A kindhearted aircraft pilot took ‘HSHEA’ (hyper sensitive hedgehog evasive action) after noticing an ickle baby hoglet on the runway as he was preparing for take-off. The thirty passengers on board were told about the reason for the delay over the tannoy as the ’plane waited two minutes for the spiky ickle hairbrush to pass.

The Loganair flight was taxiing to the runway in Stornoway, Lewis, when the miniature Erinaceidae creature made its appearance. The captain immediately brought the Saab 340 aircraft to a halt, prior to the journey to Inverness in the Highlands.

Haimish McTaffety, Loganair’s director of flight operations, said: “The captain safely avoided a prickly situation for the little hedgehog by following standard procedure until the animal was off the tarmac. Our network extends into some of Scotland’s most remote communities, so there are generally quite a few opportunities to see animals in the wild and we’re always conscious to disturb them as little as possible, the noo.”

Pilots operating from Stornoway regularly scan the runway for wildlife, given the rural location of the airport in the Outer Hebrides. Passenger Hilda McSlowbottom tweeted: “I was on the LM156 from Stornoway to Inverness when the aircraft was taxiing towards the runway and all of a sudden the brakes went on like an emergency stop and me false teeth nearly flew out. But almost immediately the captain came on the tannoy to tell us that he was waiting on a baby hedgehog to pass, which the vast majority of us thought was really rather cute.”

MOST POPULAR DOG NAMES

Page 28

Welcoming a furry new friend into the family is a bit of a big deal. After all, what are you going to call it? As it will quickly become an important part of your life, you need to make sure your little new pup has the perfect name, as well as one it can grow into. What’s more, you don’t want to call it one you’ll be embarrassed to call out when it misbehaves when you’re out for a walk (such a Sexdrive), nor one you’ll probably get completely fed up with in no time at all (such as Rylan Clark-Neal).

So here’s the ‘Top 10’ favourite names for dogs, as compiled by Tasty Bone dog chews: 1. Charlie 2. Loki 3. Harley 4. Elsa. 5. Fluffy 6. Luke 7. Simba 8. Lady. 9. Millie 10. Maggie.

And here’s a handful of exotic Edge names for you to also consider: 1. Cockbreathe 2. Slackarse 3. Dozybollox 4. Shitbag 5. Rover.

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MOTCO

Man on the Clapham Omnibus

THE CHRISTMAS ARTICLE I can remember it clearly. A week or so back, my daughter says to me, “Dad, how are you going to use your one and only mention of the word ‘Christmas’ in the December Edge this year?” As you may know, Edge writers are normally only allowed one mention of the ‘C’ word per year. The more eagle-eyed amongst you are already noticing that I have ploughed straight in with the title of the article. A clue, maybe?

Within 48 hours of that remark I had received a very strange email indeed, purporting to come from EE himself. It was a reminder about the Christmas deadlines. It also stated that he was after articles about “Christmas, families and Christmas day.” I work in Bank surveillance (yup, I’m watching and listening) and at first I thought this must have come from a suspect source. Was it a Nigerian Prince masquerading as Ye Olde EE? Was I about to be offered a option to secure a trillion dollars in secretly held money, or the chance to buy manhood enhancement products? (“That’s quite enough of that. This is the Christmas edition after all. Signed, EE). After a rigorous security question check: “Are you going to buy the beers all night?” Response: “Am I ’eck us like” I knew for sure it was definitely EE, a man with an even tighter grip on his wallet than ArrArrrArrArrrkwright.

Dazed and confused, I stumbled toward the keyboard. Six years. Six long years of writing the December article with barely the use of a ‘C’ word allowed. And now?

Now he’s crumbled. “Have your way with Christmas,” he said, “ and fly free as a Red Nosed Reindeer.” Or words to that effect.

So what is Christmas like at ‘Motco Towers’? We love it. And anybody who visits will be in no doubt as there will be a lit Christmas tree on the drive, one in the hallway, one in the sitting-room and one in the family room. We have lights on the front of the house - tastefully done, of course. Oh yes, ‘The Motts’ are dedicated Christmas folk. I grew up in the 1960/70’s on a very ‘interesting’ estate away from Chelmsford. I have moved on in many ways, but my dedication to Christmas schmaltz has remained undiminished. Even my tweediness goes out the window at Christmas, but we still go in for the foil ceiling chains and twinkly stuff. Why? Because they are a link to my past, along with Slade and Wizard, just as Wham! is for my girls.

Christmas, for us, is about being together. We generally have extra guests, believing no one should be alone at Christmas, having found out one year a friend of the

children was all alone at home, eating a burrito. Christmas morning is presents, bubbly, dripping toast and smoked salmon. Christmas day is happy, about silly family pyjamas, no holds indulgence, farting and a 24 hour truce from the usual niggles.

I love the lights; the trashy, twinkling coloured lights. They offer hope, cosiness, good times, old memories, and opportunities to make and pass on new and even better memories.

Therefore I am happy to bask in their temporary coloured glow and the fleeting sentimentality they wrap around you.

It is easy to complain that Christmas has changed. Of course it has. Life changes and things do in tandem. That’s how it works. But the sad demise of Woolworths and their cheesy adverts does not mean it’s all over. There is the transition from childhood to adulthood and it’s a big step. In childhood, Christmas is delivered on a plate.

Well, probably several plates. But as a child you have to turn up and that’s pretty much it. Of course, as an adult, there is the small matter of making all that happens happen! This is whilst holding down the day job, whatever that may be.

We all know about the cheesy stuff and should participate in it fully, even, it seems, EE this year. For some it is a celebration of their beliefs and others a difficult time.

We must remember though, my faithful Motty’s, it is a season of goodwill and a chance to get caught up in the moment (even if it started straight after Halloween).

So bask in the slushy glow of twinkly lights, indulge in the temporary warmth of goodwill, and try and stretch it through into the New Year. Who knows where we will be this time next year? I did hear a small child give an honest opinion on the current situation. It combined the importance of Christmas and current topics. At least after Brexit, she said, Christmas dinner will be better, as there will be no Brussels.

Boom boom, Basil!

So be happy, hug your loved ones and enjoy the moment. There, I have managed twenty-two mentions of the ‘C’ word!

Yours Christmassly aye,

Beaulieu Park Housewives

A Beaulieu Park Wife’s Diary in which names have been tweaked to spare blushes and exposed breaches to Pre-Nup Agreements.

Deck the halls with boughs of holly? More like ‘Fill that fridge with bottles of Bolli!’

That’s how we roll here in BP. This time of year is obviously all about abundance and spending time with our nearest and dearest. Well, we certainly know about ‘abundance’ and ‘spending’, that’s for sure. The festive season is the most wonderful time of the year to showcase everything we have, receive yet more of and all that we bestow on our brood – the battle of the Beaulieu brats ramps up as each of them vies for top-dog status in the Christmas gift stakes. They learn well from their parents, our little darlings; must be that hugely expensive fee-paying education they are privileged enough to receive.

So, talking of broods, Sacha and Alistair (the newly wedded, park-running adrenalin junkies) have just announced that they are ‘with child’. It was, of course, a honeymoon baby – Alistair is a meticulous planner and, third time round with a significantly younger trophy wife who has been desperate to have a baby since she snatched him from the claws of wife number two, everything must be just bloody perfect. Third time lucky, eh? Alistair is a MAMIL for sure; one of those annoyingly dedicated ‘middle-aged men in lycra’ who cycles or runs everywhere in an attempt for a PB and can reel off the ratio of fat-to-protein in every sodding dish known to man…or woman. I can tell you, he won’t be letting Sacha ‘eat for two’ or so much as pop a cheeky mince pie (Waitrose or otherwise) over the festive period. Nope, he’ll have her downward-dogging and performing Pilates with her hand-picked (by him, of course) only-the-best-that-money-can-buy PT between now and ‘D’elivery day to ensure (a) that she springs back into her Paige skinny jeans PDQ and (b) baby budding-triathlete absorbs all of this physical well-being and competitiveness into his/her DNA from the outset. For feck’s sake, this bloody child is not due until March and I’ve heard more about its nativity than the holy one himself! Good luck with that Christmas pressie this year, Sacha, is all I can say – I think Alistair has you down for a luxury all-terrain running pushchair and a block booking of lipo for 2020 A.D. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

Babies aside (I’m no Herod, but I’m not overly keen), I’m quite fond of this time of year. It’s bloody marvellous that you get to shop pretty much every day of the month throughout December with NO challenge from the other-half at all. I’m a firm believer in the ‘one present for you, one for me’ rule of purchasing and a little Chantecaille make-up palette or Fendi scarf pour moi nestles nicely on the bank statement relatively unnoticed. Furthermore, the great thing about having an obscenely large luxury car is that you can ‘store’ the gifts for yourself in the boot until said other-half is safely out of the way before bringing them into the house; scarfs and make-up palettes generally require less subterfuge, but something like a Valentino Garavani tote requires a little bit more stealth, I tend to find.

Then, of course, there are the wonderfully over-the-top decorations and food-porn.

Now I don’t need much of an excuse to ‘bring on the bling’, but at this time of year I have to be VERY careful not to border on all things AA; herein I am not talking about Alcoholics Anonymous (although that’s sometimes a pretty close call), I am referring to Absolutely Ascot – say no more! Festooning the house with baubles and trinkets, obligatory front door organza bows and charging our dining table with a feast fit for the king, who apparently once bought our fair estate, really gets me in the mood for the big day. Of course, I claim that I prepare most of the food whilst Nat always argues that an underpaid Ocado commercial kitchen worker did and all I do is unbox, pierce a film or two, and heat; “That’s not cooking,” he points out. What? Like I profess to be Nigella bloody Lawson?

We will see the rest of the BP-ers for sure over the coming weeks. There’ll be designer handbags at dawn with Leanne and Jo, who are still not on speaking terms, while the big meet up at ours will be the first time they will be in each other’s company for an entire evening – although I am pretty sure that once the champagne is flowing, they’ll be hugging it out and crying along to ‘Last Christmas’ – either that or I’ll have to get a sober Sacha to chill them the f@ck out with a yoga session in the orangery, whilst the rest of us are on that Bollinger!

Happy Christmas, All. Page 29

The Edge 278 new_The Edge 172.qxd 21/11/2019 11:38 Page 30

Cheryl Yarwood of Secure Haven Funeral Directors in Broomfield is a manufacturer and importer of memorial urns and keepsakes and has widely sourced items to find the perfect solutions to help families with the ashes of loved ones following a cremation.

Eco-friendly options More choices are available now for biodegradable urns for cremated remains through interring in the ground, or planter, or even for a water committal. Secure Haven’s products help to return your loved one’s ashes back to nature with 100% biodegradable products.

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The Bios Urn is constructed using cellulose and natural fibres and comes with a sachet of fertiliser to mix with the native soil.

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The base is made of organic matter and top shell made of inert ceramic, placed over the base with a tree sapling within the centre hole. As time passes and the sapling grows the ceramic top shell will disintegrate with the base providing nutrients for the sapling.

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A beautiful bright green Olea urn, which is made entirely from crushed olive pips and naturally colored with kiwi, which gives it its vibrant colour.

The white Nu Urn is made of salt and natural components. The Samsara is constructed with sand, sea water and bound by plant extracts.

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available to hold a token of ashes or lock of hair. Stunning wooden urns, each turned from a single log of either Cherry or Maple in Canada the Les Grands Vents, are all unique with the personality of the heart of the tree displaying the natural textures and colours of the wood, which would sit quite proudly within the family home. Matching keepsake urns are also available.

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