The Edge Magazine October 2022

“We’re an unusual estate agent,” says director Scott Mason, “and very proud of the fact since we first opened our doors in Duke Street back in 2006. It’s our goal to one hundred per cent dispel the idea that ‘all estate agents are alike’, because believe me, they’re not.

“We want our clients to be able to trust us, be able to heed our advice without qualms and to feel truly comfortable when dealing with us. That way we know we’ll be adding value to every move we’re involved in.

“What’s more, we create lasting relationships with our clients who, more often than not, are making hugely important and deeply personal life decisions when buying, selling or renting their homes. Above all, we’re an integral part of the community; contributing as much as we can to enhancing the local environment and really connecting with people in our area.

“In short, we are your independent, boutique and personal estate agent with offices in Brentwood, Chelmsford, and now our recently opened

Doctors are calling for the return of ‘electric shock therapy’ as a treatment for severe depression. They say the modern form, known as electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT for short, should only be used after anti-depressants and counselling has failed.

Electric shock therapy was widely used in low budget Frankenstein movies as well as to treat mental health disorders from the 1940s to the 1970s. It was based on the principle that inducing seizures could help ‘reset the brain’, thus disrupting the pathways which have led to depression. But it was phased out after proving to be controversial as it was often carried out without anaesthetic or without the consent of the patient, as in the case of Frank (above). Resulting violent seizures could also be so severe as to cause patients to break bones.

The modern treatment involves sending much milder electric impulses through the brains of patients under anaesthetic without causing any violent convulsions, despite appearing less dramatic in ‘B’ movies.

ECT is cost effective and should be considered as the next treatment option if a course of medication and therapy have both failed to help patients suffering from long-term depression, say quacks.

“So after 4 smashed office windows, winning multiple national awards, half-a-dozen soggy shoulders from clients’ tears of happiness, plentiful bouquets of flowers, copious amounts of chocolates, many sense of humour failures between us three business partners, incredibly tolerant spouses, far too many sleepless nights and bucket loads of hard work from our wonderful, wonderful team, we’re still here....delivering great customer service!”

Old Moulsham office located in Moulsham Street (bang opposite San Chinese restaurant) where we will continue to have you and your home at the heart of everything we do.

EVERYONE’S ENTITLED

As Edge columnist Andrew Eley stated in last months editions, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion where movies are concerned, and likewise when ‘watching the box’ too. So let me just mention two programmes I have both loved and hated of late.

Firstly, Marriage, starring Sean Bean, Nicola Walker and James Bolam. Absolutely detested it. And the theme tune, which seemed to come on right at the end, was horrendous. But if that wasn’t bad enough, has Sean Bean ever been able to act? I mean has he? Really?

What I love though is the brand new series of Rosie Jones’ Trip Hazard as I think that lass is just brilliant.

In fact, I’d love to meet Rosie for a coffee and simply watch her spill it down herself and chuck it all over everyone, bless her. And when she’s trying to be funny, yep, she’s even funnier still.

Rosie Jones 1 Marriage 0

AUTUMN

Due to an awful lot of trees being burnt and becoming frazzled by our, at times, pretty much unbearable summer, did you happen to notice the knock-on effect of Autumn seemingly turning up earlier than planned?

PLUM CRUMBLE

I managed to nab the last yield of plums from my mate Keith Rogers’ back garden (he pretty much doesn’t pick ’em and lets loads rot, the silly sod), gave them to Mrs Edge and she made us an absolutely delicious crumble with extra granola on the top which we enjoyed with piping hot vanilla custard. Utterly marvelous.

‘THE MONTH OF ESSEX’

I am certain I heard on some radio station or other that October is officially ‘The Month of Essex’? But after trying to find out a bit more about it on tut interweb for all of about, oooooh, sixty seconds with absolutely nothing catching my eye, I gave up.

QUEEN LIZ II

Stop Press: 8th Sept. It’s just been announced and while we all knew it had to happen one day, it was still a massive shock, wasn’t it?

LEFT FIELD

The more I think about it, the more I don’t like people with their own minds and opinions that might well be contrary to my own.

You just can’t trust the buggers, can you?

MILLIONAIRES

As the song goes, ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’ Well clearly most of us wouldn’t turn down the opportunity.

But what I think’s totally wrong is recent Euro

Millions jackpots of £195m (a record) followed by £110m more recently going to just one winner.

Bugger that.

Instead, why not make 195 people deliriously happy (as the vast majority of us would be with a sum of that nature) rather than making folk multi-millionaires, because it’s handleable, is a million knicker.

But £110m or £195m? Nah. That’s a headache, because it’s such an outlandish amount to the common man, or woman, as the case may be.

COR BLIMEY

Your editor remembers the pre-decimalisation coins The Edge’s ‘Mystery Silver Surfer’ speaks of in his column on page 24 this month with great nostalgia. Indeed, the almost green (in colour), 12-sided ‘thrupenny bit’ was an absolute corker. However, the best, most regal of all pocket change (see Grimes’ Gripes on page 12 for yet more about change) has simply got to be the good old half-crown.

‘COMPOST CAROL’

I’m sure she’s a really nice person, but the one with frizzy pink hair who goes by the moniker of ‘Compost Carol’ on the current series of Bake Off looks like a cross between Noddy Holder and that unruly bloke who used to walk on at the end of every Reeves & Mortimer show proclaiming: “Where’s t’baby?”

GOGGLEBOX

What a brilliant programme TFI Friday was. It was so of its day and sad as it is, you just couldn’t bring it back (not that Chris would probably want to do it, the old git) as it just wouldn’t be the same.

And oh what a blinding theme tune, eh? So infectious and upbeat.

Me & Mrs Edge came out of Braintree registry office to the strains of that playing 21 (and a bit) years ago.

But you know Chris nicked it, don’t you?

Originally it was the theme tune to a thirty episode detective series called ‘Man in a Suitcase’ starring Richard Bradford as lead character McGill (and The Edge seems to recall he drove a Hillman Imp).

As well as there being 10,000 physical copies of The Edge produced each & every month, were you aware that The Edge has over 12,000 online followers?

No readers, your editor wasn’t either, as I’m not very au fait with the whole online movement and that’s the truth.

But apparently the figures on 24th September 2022 were as follows:-

TWATTER 5,130

FACECOCK

Shaun Edge 4,645 The Edge 1,800

INSTAGRAM 2,075

So what I’d now like to do is increase the number of subscribers who receive The Edge online each and every month as it costs you sweet bugger all to do so.

Simply log on to www.theedgemag.co.uk/subscribe and it’ll reach you every month ABSOLUTELY FREE!

WHAT THIS PICTURE SAYS TO THE EDGE...

The Edge always call it the tip, readers. Or the dump. Do you? But it’s actually called Chelmsford Recycling up at Drovers Way, and what with having to clear the father-inlaw’s house out of late (yes, he sadly passed away) I’ve had cause to unload my car up there on quite a few occasions recently, as he was a bit of a hoarder, bless ’im.

But what I love is the way the chaps there keep some of the toys (action figures) that people have chucked away (see above). It’s just brilliant and shows ‘the human touch’. And it’s the same when the Dustbin Men strap an unwanted toy to the grille of their wagon. It’s good to see. It perks you up.

Have to say, sometimes when I visit the tip/dump of a lunchtime, the smell of bacon cooking that wafts out of their ‘mess’ is exceptional, so it’s a shame they don’t sell freshly cooked bacon sarnies like they do outside B&Q.

They’ve also taken to ‘Meeting & Greeting’ us these days. We tell them what we’re dumping and they tell us what bay to park in and which container to dump our junk in. Wish things were as efficient where the home recycling and collections is concerned though, as of late they seem to keep ‘missing’ our green bottles & cans bin (fortnightly) which tends to get filled up with both beer and wine bottles pretty much within a week, as well as the odd empty can of Baked Beans and Mushy Peas.

What’s going on?

You’re making The Edge editor look like he’s got a bit of a problem.

We provide reliable and cost effective leaflet, booklet, menu and magazine door drop distribution. Distribute4u offer packages to suit every budget. Our clientbase ranges from well known High Street brands to tradesmen, local leisure centres, estate agents etc. WHY? Because leafleting works for all types of businesses! We cover Chelmsford and the surounding area, plus SS, RM and IG postcodes. Check out our website for more information and our Blog tips on what to include on your leaflet.

10% discount on your very first order when you mention The EDGE! Vacancies in your area - apply today on the Distribute4u website www.distribute4u.info Telephone: 0795 723 6299T. M.

So why do some owners make a complete and utter hash of it, eh?

No, The Edge isn’t talking about Betty’s in Harrogate, as they’re supposed to be ‘the bollocks’. But what it is talking about is the mentality and ambition of certain local cafes and tea rooms.

For instance, we cycled ‘somewhere locally’ (we’d never been there before) on the last Bank Holiday Monday and they’d run out of granary bread by 1:00pm in the afternoon (and they were open ’til 4pm).

Honestly, WTF is that all about?

What’s more, they charge £1 extra if you want your bread toasted. FFS, that is just soooo Mickey Mouse. To top it all, the bread they did manage to serve us tasted bland in the extreme, it was the worst coronation chicken we’d ever tasted, while the raw onion we asked for in our tuna mayo sandwich, well, I’ve honestly let rip farts with more zest and snap.

Verdict: totally bloody useless and we shalln’t be going back there. So what did said tea room achieve there then, eh? Absolutely sweet bugger all, simply because they’re not running it properly.

I’ll say this until I’m blue in the face; The Stores at Great Waltham know exactly what they’re doing and every time I visit it’s always just as good as the last time. Pricing’s fair too. How hard can it be?

theedgemag.co.uk/subscribe receivetheedgedirectto yourtabletorcough mixtureorlaptopor whereverthehellyou wanttoreceiveit withoutleaving yourhomeoryour officeoryour deckchair it’sverysimple. allyouneedtodo isSUBSCRIBE

When did airports become so tedious?

Don’t get me wrong, they’ve never exactly been high on my list of places for a banging time, but nobody can deny that certain magical airport mystique (at least on departure) after you’re all checked in, your flight doesn’t appear to be delayed, you’ve made it through security and you find yourself in that parallel time continuum where your holiday officially starts, even though you haven’t left the UK yet, and you suddenly move from the standard tight-as-a-duck’s-arse frugal budgeting mindset that has allowed you to actually afford the holiday, into official ‘holiday spends’ mode which are (obviously) unlimited and where the glittering lights of the Duty Free stores suddenly herald all the promise of everything you’ve ever wanted (but just didn’t realise). And lastly, but perhaps most importantly, where it’s NEVER too early for an alcoholic beverage.

However, this summer, when we went on our long awaited family holiday (originally booked for May 2020), all of the above was cruelly snatched from us, replaced with something akin to an episode of Challenge Anneka (millennials will have to Google that) entitled ‘How much do you really want to leave the UK?’

For starters - airlines. Now I could go hard and blame Sleazyjet in isolation on this, as they were our outward bound airline. But that would be grossly unfair, as I saw similar airlines operating similar systems throughout the length and breadth of the departure hall.

We flew out at sparrow’s fart on a Sunday morning; a time when Sleazyjet had around 8 flights departing within a pretty short window. Presumably, as a result of a heady combination of the impacts of Brexit, Covid and the drive to save every possible penny they can, Sleazyjet no longer man their own check in/bag drop desks. Instead, they have self-serve machines where you weigh and label your own bags before sending them merrily down the conveyor belt of doom, praying that they somehow miraculously find their way to your destination. For those of you who are no stranger to the unfortunate pitfalls of the supermarket self-checkouts, this really takes the infuriating “unexpected item in bagging area” to the next level of frustration. Of course, there are ‘floating’ Sleazyjet staff to ‘assist’ (for your convenience?), but trying to locate one at the exact moment you need help before you inadvertently ship your bag off to Bosnia, is pretty similar to trying to find someone in Morrison’s on a Friday evening to confirm you appear to be over the age of 25 when all you want is to get home with your bottle of Sauvignon Blanc after a hard week and lament your life choices.

To add insult to injury, this soul destroying self-serve experience is not flight specific, so what we encountered upon arrival was a snaking queue, around 24 rows deep, for every passenger on every flight departing within the next four hours, that in all honesty could probably be seen from the international space station.

And if you manage to survive the bag drop experience without sending your sanity down the conveyor after your luggage, you then get to make your way to security to join yet another (equally painfully long) queue. Here you are expected to place all of your bags and jackets/hoodies in plastic boxes to pass through a scanner, including removing all electronics such as phones and tablets to send through separately, whilst folding up your buggy, removing your shoes, and trying to hang on to your 3 feral children as you attempt to individually walk through the metal detector to make sure you aren’t intending to blow up the airplane.

To enhance this experience further, you and your husband may set off the detector (like we both did) and whilst you are being aggressively detained in ANOTHER queue to pass through a more serious detector cubicle (this time where you have to stand still and raise your hands like you’re assuming the starting position for the YMCA), the airport staff will think absolutely nothing of waving through 3 (now unaccompanied) children under 9 into an insanely busy departure terminal alone (minus their bags and shoes)!

But, of course, I completely appreciate that the metal button on my denim shorts was a far bigger security risk at that point.

When we finally emerged from security, having gathered up our possessions from what felt like eleventy million plastic trays, and having fortunately located our barefoot children, we found we had just 20 minutes before we were due to board. At this point we had been awake for over four hours and had not so much as sniffed a cup of tea, but the odds were not in our favour as the only way I can describe the actual departure lounge was like a scene from some sort of apocalypse. I am not sure whether some businesses have not yet reopened following Covid, or whether there were people who had been in there for days (possibly weeks) on flight delays, but as a seasoned traveller all my life, I have literally never seen anything like it. Every cafe/restaurant had a huge queue of people out their door. The queue for Pret couldn’t have been any longer if they were giving away free food. Even the ‘grab and go’ kiosk was buried deep under at least 80 desperate looking people ready to lick raw coffee beans. It became apparent very quickly that there would be no tea and toast for us, let alone the celebratory, relaxing, sit down breakfast and obligatory glass of Buck’s Fizz we had envisaged. We couldn’t even get water because the refill fountains were besieged with hordes of airport zombies, and every machine we passed was either out of service, or sold out. We practically ran to the boarding gate, where our flight had already started to board.

Once we were in the air and that Sleazy kiosk rumbled it’s way into the aisle, people literally could not throw their cards at the staff fast enough to secure whatever food and drink they had in stock. Nobody seemed to notice (or care) that they were paying the equivalent of a weekly food shop for a few ham toasties and a pot of hummus (myself included). It was truly survival of the quickest to assault the contactless machine at this point, which told me that our airport experience was far from unique.

The return journey (on a different airline, I might add) was even worse. We queued for so long at Palma that our flight was 30 minutes away from departure and the dejected looking airline staff actually had to make their way through the endless snake queue asking those flying to Gatwick to come to the front. A vigorous sprint through the airport security and passport control ensued, with no chance to even sniff anything in Duty Free, but by that point I think I had just accepted this ‘Home Alone’ style of travel as the norm.

I really don’t know if this is an issue following staffing problems post-Covid, if this is all down to Boris and his Brexit bedlam, whether this really is the new normal and passengers now need to arrive 4 hours early to improve their chances of getting a pre-flight pint, or whether airlines are purposely shafting airports in making sure that their check-in arrangements are so intentionally disorganised that they can guarantee everyone will be getting on their aircraft starving hungry and dying of thirst, where they can, of course, proceed to reap all the financial benefits and charge eye watering prices for a ‘limited’ few slices of sourdough and Emmental with a hint of mustard.

Furthermore, considering the cost of actually checking-in a bag (and consequently the privilege of joining the infamous self-serve bag drop queue) is often more than the flight itself these days, it’s clear to me that there’s only one winner here ....and it’s not us.

While this particular extraction looks like a small slimy snail, don’t you think? But what a relief to be able to hear again, which is something most of us take for granted.

The Edge honestly cannot recommend Maldon’s Clear Ear highly enough. It was March 2021 when last your editor had cause to visit them, so I managed to go a whole 16 months without requiring their magnificent services. But when it comes on, it comes on pretty fast and within a matter of days I can go from hearing to pretty much not hearing very much at all, it’s as simple as that.

I’ll tell you what it feels like, shall I? You know when you’re in a car wash and the water’s pelting down against the roof of your motor? Well, when I shower with blocked ears, it sounds exactly like that as the water’s bounces off my bonce. It’s weird. You simply feel discombobulated when you can’t hear all of a sudden. So check out Maldon’s Clear Ear online if you’re suffering too.

the following day’s stage.

I sampled the region’s Moorish architecture by visiting the Alcázar, built in the 12th century by the Almohad Caliphate. Then it was onto Gothic, Baroque and Neoclassical styles which are combined in the 17th century Jerez Cathedral. The antiquity and form of both sites leave a striking impression, particularly if that’s your thing.

style octopus, accompanied with the region’s cold crisp wines and driest sherries.

Oyster shells are not confined to the plate in Cadiz; they’re evident too in the ancient sedimentary stone of which the city’s walls and historic buildings are constructed.

Social differences are evident too, of course, in the famously late hours facilitated by the body clocks of the Spanish. Kitchens are dormant until at least 20:30 and it’s acceptable, if not customary, to still be eating at 23:00. But the evening is still young and the streets and plazas are busy with family groups and friends promenading or stopping for drinks long into the night.

Equipped as I am with a grade 4 CSE in Spanish, gained 45 years ago from the esteemed Rainsford Academy, I’ve always fancied myself as a bit of a Hispanophile and I’m always eager for a bit of Iberian cultural immersion.

The history and culture of Spain has always enchanted me with so much of its Roman, Moorish, Catholic and colonial past extant in its own cities and those of central and southern America. In the historical centres of those cities I’m always captivated. And it’s not just the centuries old architecture, narrow cobbled streets and thriving markets with their kaleidoscope of the freshest fish, fruits and vegetables that beguiles me. No, it’s the fact that everything contrasts so dramatically with the sterile uniformity of our own Pound Shop lookalike towns, forlornly awash with empty retail units, charity shops and branches of Greggs and Ladbrokes. Sadly, even if the much-lamented Corn Exchange still stood on Plaza Tindal, Chelmo could never compete.

But if you prefer your antiquity in a glass, then I would recommend a visit to one of the many bodegas. I chose a tour of the Gonzáles Byass and was treated to a history lesson, fascinating insights to the fermentation and ageing processes, all finished off with a few complementary glasses of the produce.

After a couple of days exploring, it was time to jump on a train for the 40 minute / €4.55 journey to transfer to Cádiz for a few days.

My most enjoyable evening started at the Mercado Central. As is typical in Spain, the city’s market houses a number of bars and informal counters dispensing street food and tapas. On the Friday evening it was heaving with locals - aka Gaditanos - all excited and in high spirits for the weekend. Drinks were cheap and I was already several half litres of Estrella Galicia in. Food came to the rescue in the form of a serving of freshly prepared chicharrones (fried pork rind, equivalent to, but so much better than pork scratchings).

I adored the atmosphere and the congeniality of the scene. Many of the revellers were families accompanied in some cases by young children. But it was all completely civilised, very sociable and relaxed. Could you honestly imagine an equivalent scene in the market square of an Essex town on a Friday evening? Fuelled with bargain booze, I venture that the mood would rapidly descend into shouty swearing and fighting - and then the blokes would join in!

Over the years I’ve travelled widely in Andalusia, criss-crossing the region by train to stop in locations including Ronda, Sevilla, Cordoba, Granada and Malaga, but last month I had the chance to get acquainted with Jerez and Cádiz on the Atlantic Costa de la Luz.

Jerez de la Frontera

First stop was the city that gives its name to sherry, as it’s here that the numerous bodegas age the wine in oak barrels for the famous fortified tipple.

By coincidence, the city was also hosting a rest day following Stage 15 of La Vuelta a España and I caught a glimpse of a few UCI tour riders. Now, on a rest day after 2,300km of racing in scorching heat, wouldn’t you think they’d want to rest? Not a bit of it; they were out in full kit on their bikes training for

I was struck by the cultural differences that surfaced on that journey. Every passenger, without exception, was dutifully wearing a mask. But this compliance with social propriety only extended so far. Failing to conduct themselves with the reserve of us Brits, the Spanish talked loudly (in some instances at the very top of their voices) and excitedly on their mobile phones. Thoughts returned to my many years of commuting into Liverpool Street and I dread to think what sort of summary justice would have been exacted upon anyone daring to speak at even a tenth of that volume on the hushed 06:40.

Cádiz

Eating and drinking is always high on the list of indulgences in Spain and this city’s bars and restaurants certainly deliver. Days usually start outside a bar with tostado con tomate, coupled with the evocative bitterness of a torrefacto café con leche. An hour or two later it’s time for freshly fried churros, perhaps dipped in hot chocolate. Then by midafternoon a break from exploring is rewarded with a caña or two and tapas. It’s then time to retreat from the heat to rest and contemplate the evening.

Seafood dominates menus and the memories of one evening will remain vivid, such was the quality of the oysters and the Galician

Historically Cádiz, with its access to the Atlantic, was an important strategic port, but its heyday was in the 17th and 18th centuries when Spain’s American colonial trade was progressively transferred from Seville due to the silting-up of the Guadalquivir river. Strolling along the Malecón - the stone-built boulevard and wall along the waterfront - I was struck by the similarities between this example and the more famous one in Havana. I learnt later that it was used as a substitute in the Bond movie, Die Another Day.

Unusually for a port city, Cádiz also boasts three popular blue flag beaches and I spent my final afternoon relaxing amongst the locals and the surfers at Playa de Santa Maria.

We love a good party at Channels and we are excited to be the home of some incredible events in our beautiful 17th Century Essex Barn that just might be of interest to you good Edge readers, writes Channels General Manager Katie Squire Ghouls, ghosts and goblins will soon unite for a family friendly Spooky Disco and Costume Party! So why not get the whole family together for a fun filled evening of dancing, games and food. Tickets include: disco with DJ, games for the children, a choice of burger or sausage with fries, a costume contest featuring Best Dressed Family, Best Dressed Adult, Best Dressed Child and Most Creative Costume with prizes awarded! We will be holding our Halloween Spooktacular on Friday 28th October from 6:30pm-8:30pm. Tickets will be available to purchase at the link on our website under the What’s On section.

Ticket Prices:

Family Ticket (2 Adults & 2 Children) £50

Adult Ticket: £16

Child Ticket: (12 and under): £10

Or if you are looking for a fun Halloween night out without the kids, we will be hosting a Halloween Disco from 9pm-Midnight on Friday 28th October. So why not get a group together, get your best costumes on and come out for a night of dancing, drinking and fun! Tickets will include a DJ and disco, bacon, sausage or vegan rolls and Best Dressed Costume contest (once again with prizes awarded). The bar will be open for drinks all evening long. Please book your taxis for 12:15am.

Please note: this is an 18+ event and no children are permitted.

Ticket Prices:

Adult Ticket (18+): £20

But if Halloween isn’t your cup of tea, stay tuned! We are in the process of planning some new, fun events throughout the year in our beautiful Essex Barn, such as Art & Sip, Mindfulness and Wellbeing, music nights plus our always popular Breakfast with Santa mornings which will all be available very soon and we can’t wait to offer you a very warm welcome.

For more information on upcoming events or any enquiries regarding the Essex Barn at Channels please visit our website: www.channelsestate.co.uk.

Here I am, back again, for the third installment of Grimes Gripes, and this one’s about parking, which generally drives me nuts.

Now a lot of the time in this day and age, parking is simply a joke.

People park on bends and in dangerous places, such as opposite junctions. Parking bays are also rarely adhered to, with people not parking within the designated lines, or even taking up two spaces. Busy car parks can be a bane for this sort of thing. And there’s always the numpty driving the wrong way around a one-way system car-park, yet thinking they’re right. What about car parks not having enough exits, so that everyone is shoehorned to one exit only? Many, many years ago, the Springfield Road Tesco used to have a real problem with queuing to get out. It caused shoppers to be stranded in there for up to an hour, which was ridiculous.

Another bane of parking is when a car park is only for certain residents, yet residents of nearby areas also decide to use it. Why, when they have their own? And it’s even worse when the car park is full, so that residents can't even park in their own damned car park.

It’s also annoying when a town or city does not have enough parking spaces to please everyone who lives there or visits. Big events can often be a nightmare for parking. You are all guided to some big field, which is okay at first, but when leaving chaos ensues. Yet there’s never anyone about to direct the traffic, so it swiftly becomes a hideous free-for-all. Hylands Park used to be okay, but now that they charge a daily rate, I have only visited once since, to take my mum and dad there.

Shops with car parks are also cutting down the time you can park there too, before they start dishing out fines if you exceed the limit.

I am old enough to remember the coin payment parking machines. Things were so lovely and simple back then. All you needed to do was have enough change in your pocket to use them. Okay, so a fair few of them you had to have the right amount as they did not give any change. Then came card payment machines. Less likely to be robbed, but could certainly be scammed. They’re like a reverse ATM. Even better when contactless cards came in. No need to carry a pocket full of coins anymore. But the most complex machines for paying for your parking are those where the onus is completely on the customer and I detest them with a passion as they can be exceedingly frustrating and overly complex to operate. Who needs or wants a phone call/app to pay for their bloody parking? Why oh why do these people make life so very hard, when an app should be a far easier way of paying? There’s just so much faffing about to be done, logging in this data and that data. And who carries a card reader around with them to finalise it all? It’s enough to make you want to pull your hair out, if you have any, which I don’t.

How are old folk supposed to get their heads around the likes of all this? My dad’s one of those who doesn’t like to use a bank card where parking machines are concerned. He likes putting coins in. But with more and more car parks only accepting bank cards, very soon he’ll have no choice. Not only that, but not all old folk have smart phones either.

Plus it’s not a quick thing to do, logging all of your information, going through inscription after inscription. All you want to do is park your car. Car parking companies only supply the cameras and posters etc. Therefore they are raking loads of money in for very little outlay as there are no parking machines or tickets to fund. It’s just like when they stopped issuing paper road tax discs. Some also have signs that you don't really see properly and if you don't know the place well, you’re not even looking out for them, which is another con, or so it seems to me. What’s more, many of these parking companies are totally separate from the establishment they’re offering their services to.

A few months ago I went to Broomfield Hospital and they still used the old coin machines. But I did not have enough change on me, so I had to shop to get some. I think they are going to change that soon, only when I don't know. They have the barriers and new machines ready, but months have gone by and they still don’t have the new parking system up and running. So why even start what you don’t appear to be able to finish?

POLITICALLY INCORRECT

So there we are then. After many a long year on the throne, Queen Elizabeth II sadly passed away on 8th September 2022 and we now welcome King Charles III.

Even though not completely shocked by her passing, as HRH hadn't been well for quite some time, it was still horrible news to hear over the radio on that particular September morning.

there’s a ‘buy one, get one free’ offer going at the Cosy Club? It’d be positively rude not to!).

However, during the middle of August my parents invited me to a day at the races at the Chelmsford City Racecourse at Great Leighs, to which I readily accepted as I'd only ever been there previously for my Covid jabs.

So I dusted off my suit - for the second time that month, after the delights of Mr & Mrs Dewar’s wedding the week before, as featured in last month’s Edge - and headed to the ‘village life’ of Kelvedon to meet my parents at the pub that had organised the coach trip to the geegees and enjoyed my very first pint of Guinness of the day at, oh, probably 10.30am.

The moment I got to Kelvedon it was raining and sadly didn't let up for the majority of the day, which had the knock on effect of making it very difficult to place a bet, order a beer at the bar, or purchasing food at the different concessions, as everyone and their mother was confined to the main indoor area in order to keep dry.

Thankfully, I had clocked Mark from Shwings setting up his mobile truck just outside the main entrance, so ordered some BBQ wings with a side of fries and some of their delicious homemade coleslaw, which went down very well indeed and was far more satisfying than the results of the bets I had placed. I even made three more visits to the truck that afternoon as by then the Guinness munchies had kicked in, and yes, before you ask, I did share my tucker with my family (how could you possibly think otherwise?).

Let's not forget the Queen was also suffering from a broken heart with her great love Philip’s passing just over a year ago, and the picture of her having to sit on her own during his funeral service, like many others had to during Covid (whilst Boris and his pals continued to party and flaunt the rules behind closed doors) is an image that will stay in my mind for many years to come.

Rest in peace, Your Majesty.

GREAT LEIGHS RACE COURSE

Once a week I try to catch up with my parents and normally we go for a coffee, have lunch together, or even sometimes, when mother fancies it, a cheeky cocktail or four (well, what can you do when

Even though I didn't win a sausage - in fact, the closest I got was my 7 fold almost making it, but failing on the seventh race as the horse frustratingly missed out by one place to win me a few bags of sand - it was otherwise a most enjoyable and entertaining afternoon and I would thoroughly recommended it, win or lose.

I guess the chance to see my Uncle Jim and chat about our shared love of rare watches on the journey back to the pub for a few more pints of Guinness and seeing Mum spending all of the old man's money in the jukebox, whether he wanted to or not, like when I was a kid, soon made me forget about my losses and realise what winning really is - and that's being fortunate enough to spend time with the people you love.

’Til next time, folks.

The Polak

“THE QUEEN IS DEAD, LONG LIVE THE KING”

The Edge was hoping Graham Potter would turn Chelsea down, because if it doesn’t go right for him at Stamford Bridge, and the players don’t respond to his methods, and his reputation gets mangled in no time at all (because they didn’t give Thomas Tuchel much time to put matters right, did they?), then we’ve potentially lost the ideal replacement to Gareth Southgate as the next manager of England.

Remember when David Moyes took on the poisoned chalice that was the vacant manager’s job after Sir Alex Ferguson retired? He was like a rabbit caught in headlights and that appointment set him back years. To be honest, The Edge wondered if he’d ever come back after what subsequently happened to him at Real Sociedad and then Sunderland.

But maybe Moyes felt he simply couldn’t turn the job down, because if he had, then where was his ambition?

And perhaps that’s what’s driven the promising young manager Graham Potter to take over the reigns at Chelsea.

Either way, this just doesn’t feel right so far as The Edge is concerned. Oh, no doubt Chelsea fans are overjoyed with the appointment, like they were when Frank Lampard returned to the club as manager not so very long ago, and look how that turned out.

Yes, Graham Potter is a far better manager than Frank. But is he ready for Chelsea? Is he up to all the baggage and the scrutiny that will come with the task, not to mention the sheer expectation of at least qualifying for the Champions League season after season after season?

In short, wouldn’t it have been sensible to make sure that last season’s record ninth placed finish was no flash in the pan at Brighton?

But hey, what do Chelsea care?

It’s just another appointment to them. They’ve just landed the most promising young English manager in the game. But if it doesn’t work out, then hell, they’ll just ditch him and swiftly move on.

And if that happens, what will it do to Graham Potter? To his mindset, his marbles and his minerals, not just his reputation?

There would have been nothing wrong in staying another season at Brighton as, you never know, the England job may well be up for grabs in the New Year.

But one thing’s for certain; Graham Potter will not now be following Gareth Southgate as the next manager of our promising national side, and that was always far more important to The Edge than Chelsea ‘getting their man’ ever was.

Happy October, readers.

Here I am, sat typing this months column overlooking the Atlantic ocean in temperatures hitting 26/27 degrees, so I’ve shared a view from my patio to set the scene. That’s a 40 year old olive tree, by the way, that you can see in front of my BBQ that was there on the hill all alone, long before my place was ever built. So if you are reading this in the UK, can I suggest that you set up a sun lamp and apply a liberal amount of cooking oil to your body, add your shades and pour yourself a very large, cold G&T. You’re already wearing your swimwear around the house, aren’t you? OK, now I feel we are at one. Read on. Don’t answer your door under any circumstances.

to be reminded how it has evolved - and it really has evolved, hasn’t it? Shaun tells me he keeps back issues in his loft, so he might need some encouragement to get them down - or more likely send Mrs Edge up the ladder to go fetch them! But that single missing copy would absolutely do my head in; my OCD would not be able to cope with that! Perhaps he could put an appeal out for the ‘missing mag’? Surely someone, somewhere, must have it stashed away?

DEAKS

I arrived at my home in the Algarve on 15th September and by the time you are reading this, I will have sold my beloved Casa Bonita, assuming you read this article after 3rd October, at which point I will be homeless - in Portugal at any rate. I bought my home over here in 2004, just after it was built, and it is heart wrenching to sell up. But I just think it’s time for a change and the money I make will go into a new ‘travel anywhere I bloody well want’ holiday fund.

Portugal is a beautiful country with beautiful people and incredible weather and if you have never been, then I strongly recommend that you do so.

I have been been out in Portugal for almost the past 3 weeks to get the sale wrapped up and I’ve brought my latest project with me. I am writing my autobiography and already have around 12,000 words written. At this point, I have reached the late seventies in my life story and I’m in platform boots, flares and a brightly coloured tank top. I am really pleased with how my story is flowing because I have never written a book before and I only discovered writing three years ago when our editor invited me to initially write what started out as a guest column. I reckon I need around 80,000 words before I can even consider publication, which will be a whole new dilemma for me i.e. how the hell do I publish a book and do I need to employ a proof reader and a solicitor, just in case I’ve slandered someone). What about an agent? Does it even go to print, or does it get downloaded online? I’ve only just last week discovered what a podcast is, thanks to my daughter-in-law. So do I record a podcast? OMG, so much to consider, it makes writing the book feel like the easy part! My life story will probably end up sitting in my desk drawer for 20 years and will only be discovered after I die. No doubt it will then be published and sell millions of copies, thus making my children extremely wealthy.

There are certainly worse places on earth to be writing your life story than where I am sat right now, trust me. I am sure I will give you a regular update in future columns. Indeed, knowing that I must update you in one month’s time will no doubt spur me on. The working title is ‘Deakin Speaking’, while one of my sons suggested ‘Talking Bollocks’ might be more appropriate. He’ll take that back when it is an international best seller and he wants a share of the royalties.

I feel the need to apologise to you because my column was abruptly cut short last month. Somehow between my PC and The Edge Ed’s PC the final three paragraphs disappeared into internet hyperspace and I never executed the smooth conclusion that you have come to expect of me. So this month it will be perfect because I shall use the paragraphs that I never got to use previously. #resourcefulme.

I was chatting to our Ed. prior to me flying over here and he was telling me that he has every single copy of The Edge magazine, bar one. So that’s 306 copies, including this one. I don’t know about you, but I would love it if he devoted a few pages of future publications to reprint the front covers of old magazines. I remember when The Edge first appeared on our streets during the mid-nineties and I would love

Name check time now, because I’m grateful to my former secretary, Paula Specketer, for the following information. Paula is something of an expert with vibrators. It’s true! She used to sell them for a lovely lady called Anne Summers, so it’s fair to say she has handled a few in her time, fnarr-fnarr. Following my sharing with you the latest officially recognised health disorder ‘menu hesitancy’, whereby people get to a restaurant and literally cannot make up their minds what to order. I’m not kidding, this is now a recognised health disorder. You can probably get a week off work and claim benefits for it by now! Anyhow, Paula was telling me that in the olden days women who had anxiety, mood swings and depression were sent by their husbands (because it was the husbands that were in charge back in those days, ladies) to the doctor who would diagnose them with an illness called ‘hysteria’. The treatment handed out by the quack was a ‘pelvic massage’ with the purpose of achieving a ‘hysterical paroxysm’ now commonly known as an orgasm. Some of you ladies might even be familiar with this? In fact, there were so many women who began to attend consultations to have ‘treatment for hysteria’ that doctors were regularly exhausted at the end of their working day and their hands were literally trembling. Poor souls. My heart goes out to them. Which is why a device was invented that produced rhythmic vibrations to achieve a hysterical paroxysm within the patient without the need for manual massage. At that time it was seen as a healing tool and only the wealthiest women had them in their homes for when they felt bouts of hysteria (yeah, right!). And that, dear readers, is the origin of the vibrator. I will take questions at my email address below. You’re welcome.

I need to mention the Queen at this point. I deliberately didn’t want to make this column all about Queen Elizabeth II because I think there will be other columnists who will mourn her passing. However, what a woman she was. My mum died a little over 2 years ago and both my brother and I shed a tear for her because she would have been so upset by our Queen’s passing. Our mum was born on 2nd April 1929. Elizabeth was born on 26th April 1926, so the Queen had been there all of our mum’s life. Of course, she has also been there for all of my life too and was an absolutely magnificent lady who will be missed so much by millions of people. I’ll leave it at that. Long live the King.

I think I am running out of things to say, which is not a bad thing as I have reached the bottom of the page. So I wish you all a wonderful October and I will be back again in November. No doubt I’ll be back home by then too, probably planning another trip away somewhere. Hopefully I will have a few thousand more words of my book written by then too and I’ll be out of those awful seventies clothes!

Cheerio. God bless and take care, y’all.

TTFN Deaks.

Email: gmdeakin@gmail.com

Instagram: gmdeakin

God Save the Queen

I am sure, like most of you, I was deeply saddened to hear the news about our Queen. For most of us she had been in our lives for all of our lives and, despite some real challenges, served her country dutifully and with grace until the very end.

Reminders of her are all around us, from train lines and stadiums named after her, to bank notes, postage stamps, and many of us feel a deep sense of loss despite very few of us ever having met her. She was dependable and resilient and an embodiment of what our country is all about in whatever situation we might find ourselves in under the governments and Prime Ministers that have come and gone under her reign. Despite her 96 years a lot of us felt like she would live forever and so even when the news broke it will still have come as a great shock to many.

Protocol stated that there must be a period of mourning and she is fully deserving of that respect. It is only right that people have time to come to terms with our nation’s loss.

Our Queen was renowned for having a stiff upper lip and keeping calm and carrying on. That is why I found it difficult to understand the postponement and cancellation of a number of key events, including the football, and even more bizarrely the ‘Last Night of the Proms’. What better way would there have been for people to pay

their respects than to spend a few short hours together belting out the National Anthem and Land of Hope & Glory in honour of her and her reign? I think that would have been a fitting tribute and a real opportunity for us to celebrate the life of such an incredible lady.

Devon

I’ve just returned from a family break in Devon and what a lovely part of the world it is. We managed to find a reasonably priced holiday home just outside of Woolacombe Bay which even had a heated (debatable) pool. That’s all you really need for kids to have a good time, but we did make an effort to go out exploring most days.

Having made a few previous trips to that part of the world I have always felt that I have been incredibly unlucky with the weather, but after leaving a very brown and scorched Essex (as a result of the heatwave) behind us and being welcomed by beautiful lush green fields suggested to me that it probably always rains quite a lot in that particular neck of the woods. And that’s the problem with Staycations, isn’t it? You can never guarantee the weather, which makes it hard to plan things. If we were guaranteed glorious sunshine then I honestly think that Devonand Cornwall too, to be fair - would rival most of the beach holidays found in European destinations. The beaches are massive and clean and the infrastructure and

amenities in the surrounding areas are generally pretty good, save for the narrow country lanes. We had a couple of days where the weather was in the mid-twenties and we spent that time on the beach, enjoying cream teas, fish & chips straight from a bag, finishing them off with a nice refreshing pint. Not great for the waistline, granted, but those are truly some of the finer things about living in this great country of ours.

Trouble is, the downside is it ain’t cheap. One day alone probably cost us the same as an entire week ‘all inclusive’ in somewhere like Benidorm. But to be honest, it was a price worth paying for some of those memories that will undoubtedly last a lifetime.

VAR

I am sure that everyone is sick of hearing about how VAR is ruining football, but having witnessed my own team, West Ham, be on the receiving end of possibly one of the worst decisions ever known, I really think it’s time to either bin it or change the rules completely. The problem with VAR is that you have a numpty sat in an office who wants to make a name for himself, watching key decisions over and over again on a TV screen in super slow-motion. We all know that he is sitting there wanting to make a call in the comfort of knowing that he can abdícate his responsibility to an on-field referee who then has to review the decision via a pitch-side

monitor, often in front of fans baying for his blood.

West Ham ended up having a last minute equaliser disallowed because Jarrod Bowen’s shoelaces brushed a goalkeeper as he jumped over him. It really does take away from the excitement of football and kills the emotion because you can never celebrate knowing that a decision can be changed 5 or 6 minutes after the action has occurred. In the early stages of European games there is no VAR and it is a welcome relief. The refs are terrible in Europe, but you don’t mind the odd howler because at least you are enjoying everything in real time. Goal line technology is good and at a push I would say VAR is okay in terms of offside decisions. But for everything else, it’s high time to bin it.

Billy Hinken

ONLY JOKING!

3 YEARS OLD

Lions can apparently hunt and devour their prey by the time they are but three months old. Yet my three year old son couldn’t find his lunchbox if it was in his other hand. How we got to be the apex predator I will never ever know.

CAVEMEN

Remember, before you sneer at people who upload photos of their lunch onto social media, cavemen drew theirs on the walls of their home and now we call it art.

CAMEL TALK

Teenage camel: "Mum, HELP! I’ve got sand in my eyes.”

"Let me check, darling. Ooh, that’s nasty. Hey, wait, where have your eyelashes gone?”

"Oh, I was on Flip-Flop and this girl camel said it was hip to cut them off.”

"She said WHAT?” says Mummy Camel. “Let me get this straight. Thousands of years of evolution to make you perfect for the environment you live in, all undone by some airhead on FlipFlop?”

"She isn’t an airhead, Mum. She also said it’d be cool if I shaved my nose hairs off too.”

"Oh GREAT! So the next time there’s a bug going round, or a sand storm, you’re gonna look pretty dumb, aren’t you? Being the only one wearing a mask! Hey, no doubt she has masks for sale on her website too?”

"But Mum, look at her. She’s such a brilliant influencer.”

"Ha! Humps like that don’t come naturally, son.” "She swears they’re genuine.”

"Well, if I had humps like that, I could cross the Sahara three times over without stopping.” "Oh Mum, you just don’t understand.”

INSOMNIAC UPDATE

Breaking news for insomniacs. Only two more sleeps ‘til Christmas.

MISSING CAT

Sometimes, to pass the time of day, I’ll phone the number on those ‘missing cat’ posters and very quietly meow.

CIRCUS

Batman: "I’m sorry, son, but both of your parents are dead.”

Dick Grayson: "Oh bugger. So there’s nothing keeping me at the circus anymore?”

Batman: "Nope. But hey, I can sure help you find a use for those skills of yours.”

Dick Grayson: "You’re alright, thanks. I really fancy being an electrician.”

PHOTOGRAPHY

Photographer: "Right, now let’s do a normal one.”

Me: "But I thought that’s what we’ve been doing already?”

MONSTER UNDER BED

Child: "Dad, I think there’s a monster under my bed.”

Father: "You’re not wrong there, son. Why do you think me and your Mum sleep in the other room?”

FAST FOOD

I’ve been eating nothing but fast food this past few months, but if anything, I’ve been getting even slower.

COMING CLEAN

So I came clean with my ex and explained: “But I only hid in your wardrobe to protect you from all of the weirdos out there.”

POLICE ACADEMY

Meanwhile, down at Hendon...

Instructor: "Nope, you’ve just failed your exam.”

Me: "Jeez, that sucks. How long before I can retake?”

Instructor [handing me my badge]: "No need. Welcome to the Force.”

IT’S TRUE

People who say money can’t buy happiness have obviously never had to hire a hitman.

MATHS FOR DUMMIES

I was in a second-hand book shop the other day and I managed to find not one, but two copies of ‘Maths for Dummies’.

The clerk said, "At £7.99 each, that’ll be twenty quid, please.”

THIS PARTICULAR LASS

“Why this particular lass? I’m really not sure. I suppose, for starters, I love her set of humour.” “Eh? You what?”

“And she has a great sense of boobs too.”

IS IT JUST ME?

Is it just me, or does anyone else come out of the changing rooms at M&S and say to a member of staff, "Hey, did you know there’s no toilet paper in there?”

HIM & HER

Him [hopefully]: "So what would you say about dinner?”

Her: "Yep. Definitely in my top three meals.”

ORWELLIAN NIGHTMARE

Me: "FFS, this is an Orwellian nightmare.” Starbucks Barista: "Any name will be fine, sir. Really, it will.”

HIM & HER II

Him [in car]: "Look, I’ll be straight with you. You're a very attractive girl and I’m sure any guy would be happy to be with you. But I'm just coming out of a very serious affair and I don't

think I'm ready to jump straight into another relationship just yet.”

Her [on microphone]: "Sir, please move your car to the next window and collect your order.”

LOG IN

Tried to log in on my iPad.

Turns out I’ve never even owned one and it was the kids’ Etch-a-Sketch’.

HIM & HER III

So he proposed to her, but prior to accepting, she had to confess that her breasts hadn’t grown since she was 11 year old.

He said that was okay because he loved her so much and told her that he too had a problem. "Down there,” he said, “I need you to think of, well, sort of a new born baby.”

She said, “Oh that’s fine and yes, I will marry you and learn to live with your infantile willy.”

So they got married and they could not wait until the ceremony was over when they got to their hotel suite and began touch teasing each other. Pretty soon she slid her hands down his pants and SCREAMING ran and locked herself in the bathroom.

He knocked gently on the door and said, “What’s wrong? I did warn you.”

She said, “You inferred your penis was the size of a babies.”

He said, “I meant it weighs around 8 pounds.”

EXTRA VIRGIN OLIVE OIL

Spotty young lad: "Would you like some olive oil with your salad?”

Diner: "Is it extra virgin?”

SYL [how can they tell?]: "No, no, it’s the same price.”

TERRIBLE PARENT

If you serve your kids frozen pizza or chicken nuggets, you are a terrible parent.

FFS, they’re not that difficult to heat up in the oven.

FLATSCREEN TV

“No, you prick. I said one fifty-eight inch flatscreen TV! Not fifty eight … oh I give up!

FILM DIRECTOR

We were in a restaurant when this man approached and handed me a card, explaining that he was a film director.

"You look like a fabulous couple,” he said. "Ever thought about starring in an erotic movie?” I looked across at the missus and just knew she’d be up for it.

"I’m sure we could put on a good show,” I said. "Great,” he said. "You can play the part of the husband leaving for work.”

Yet again the United Kingdom has had more change thrust upon it by the passing of our monarch Queen Elizabeth II and the ascension of the new King Charles III, together with the appointment of a new Prime Minister. We can mourn the passing of the monarch and many millions of words will be spoken, written, and broadcast about the Queen, her life and the huge changes that occurred during her 70-year reign. Some 86% of the population were born after the Queen ascended the throne in 1952 and even fewer will have memories of what life was like in the 1950’s, an era in which war time rationing finally ended, orange juice was a luxury, and less than 30% of the population were able to travel in a car.

What is truly unique is that both political and constitutional life has undergone such a huge change, not only in this short period of time but literally within days of each other. The new Prime Minister had had hardly time to draw her breath, announce her cabinet and set about her political agenda than Parliament was halted and the Constitutional changes relating to the transition of the monarchy took place. Few of us are aware that it is not only the Prime Minister that is appointed at the ‘pleasure’ of the monarch, but also members of the Cabinet need to be ratified and approved by the reigning monarch. As a result, Parliamentary appointments and processes are put on hold until Parliament reconvenes after the late Queen’s funeral. So what we all need to remember is that we are witnessing a truly historic moment; the death of a monarch and the transition to the new King is a rarity, and between 1800-2022 the United Kingdom has had but 10 Sovereigns: George’s III and IV, William IV, Victoria, Edward VII, George V, Edward VIII, George VI, Elizabeth II, and now Charles III. Contrast this with the fact that during our late Queen’s 70-year reign there have been 15 different Prime Ministers, the first being Winston Churchill (born in 1874) and her last, Liz Truss (born in 1975), there is an enormous time span which demonstrates what a truly epic moment in British history we are witnessing.

During our late Queen’s long reign, life in the United Kingdom (and elsewhere) has undergone momentous change. When the young Queen Elizabeth II ascended the throne in 1952, TV’s and telephones were a rarity in most households, while many cities still bore the scars of extensive bomb damage as a consequence of the

war (that’s the 1939-1945 conflict). Within the next few years, both Queen and country had to navigate the Suez Crisis, petrol rationing and the ‘Cold War’, much as we are now facing at the end of her long reign.

When the Queen ascended the throne, our currency was very different (before the decimalisation of 1971); we had pounds (£), shillings (s) and pence (d) with a variety of coins that ranged from a farthing (a quarter penny) which could buy you one fruit salad sweet. Next up was a halfpenny, then a penny and the intriguing 12-sided threepenny piece, which would buy you a Jamboree Bag containing a ‘novelty gift’ and sweets; we also had the silver sixpence which was perfect for Christmas puddings (no Health & Safety in those days) and the shilling (twelve pennies or 1/20th of a pound). Other coins included a 2-shilling piece and the majestic half-crown, or 2/6 (two shilling and 6 pence). Interestingly, prior to decimalisation, coins of differing monarchs continued in circulation and it was not unusual to have a Victorian penny, Edwardian shilling and a George VI sixpence included in your change; the currency transition may take many years to be completed.

At the time of the Queen’s coronation in 1953 there was really only one language spoken and possibly two or three taught in British schools, whereas today, whilst English is still the main spoken language, we now have over 300 different languages which are both taught and articulated in educational establishments up and down the country, clearly demonstrating how diversified and multicultural our country has truly become.

As the established monarchy moves on to a new phase we are also confronted by a new Prime Minister and Cabinet, all of which will drive both political and most likely constitutional change in the country.

Is Sugar or Fat the main culprit for health issues, asks Lisa Mehlman?

These days, our diets tend to be high protein and low carb with sugar and carbohydrates blamed for root causes of health problems. However, not all foods that are low in fat and carbohydrates are detrimental to our health as we do need a balance of all the food groups on our plates. The issue is really how both fat and sugar are processed.

Refined carbohydrates, basically anything white in nature, lacks essential vitamins, nutrients, fibre and is digested quickly in the body, leading to peaks and dips in our blood sugar levels, thus causing a rollercoaster effect. This develops cravings, weight gain and sometimes diabetes type 2. In fact, the more you have, the more you need as your body builds a tolerance to it. The best type of carbohydrates are the complex variety, which is basically anything brown or wholegrain in nature. These are digested more slowly and supply a lower, more steady release of glucose into the blood stream balancing out blood sugar levels, so cravings lessen. Foods in this group contain oats, beans, chickpeas, sweet potatoes and spelt.

Some well known diets promote a high fat content with processed foods such as bacon and sausages being consumed. This has little regard for the type of fat which is packed with salts, nitrates and sugar. Research has found that these types of foods cause inflammation in the body. There is a huge difference between this fat and ones that come from good quality food sources containing high levels of the fat omega 3’s. These structure every cell in your body and are a great source of energy. They are vital for body systems such as cardiovascular and immunity. Foods containing omega 3s are oily fish, such as mackerel and salmon, and chia and flaxseeds. When it comes to plant based oils, you should opt for unrefined oils, as refined and heat treated variants contain damaged fats. The best oils for cooking are coconut and ghee with extra virgin olive oil being better for pouring over salads and vegetables.

It is all about the choice of sugar and fat consumed. High sugar, fat, and salt make a food hyper-palatable, but they will ultimately deprive your body of essential nutrients. For optimal health, it’s important to take a holistic approach and look at your overall diet.

I write this for those of you who read The Edge, but may not aware of one of the most irritating things in a woman's life.

I'm not one to complain about my chest area. It's large and generally liked by all who come across its voluptuousness. I also still have it, which some of my less fortunate friends do not, so you won't ever hear me moaning about how shirts won't button up, or how it makes my back ache, or how soup never drips back into the bowl, but ends up straight down my cleavage.

But what I will complain about, however, is what we well endowed ladies have to wear to hold our breasts, boobs or bazookas in place. That well known instrument of torture known as the brassiere. I am reliably informed that the modern, post-corset bra was originally designed by some famous and forward thinking Hollywood director, who couldn't bear for his leading lady's frontage to slip sideways when lounging alluringly beneath her leading man. Well, all I can say is that I wish said director had been even more liberated and settled for his heroines to go on top!

My first area of complaint is actually getting the blasted thing on. All women, let alone ones with bigger boobs, know that you need to have the flexibility of a circus contortionist to even do a bra up. I have actually had discussions on differing methods. So far I have heard of the 'twist and flip', the 'swivel and scoop' and the 'overhead drag'. Then there are the straps that hold the cups up. They are generally positioned so widely that they always slip off ones shoulders. Note to designers: just because we have bigger breasts doesn't mean that our shoulders have suddenly become as wide as The Rock's. And it's no good suggesting that we adjust the length of the straps. This action simply makes them either ping off the shoulder faster, or slide down our upper arms slower. Either way, they end up flapping about, offering none of the promised support and leaving us constantly doing a ‘snatch and lift’ as we hoist our puppies back into their bags.

There is also the problem of under wiring, which is a health and safety nightmare. Imagine me sitting in my car at the Army & Navy roundabout at about five o'clock. The traffic is horrendous. Patience levels are at zero. And just as I take my life in my own hands and decide to pull out, a thick piece of reinforced steel wire suddenly escapes its mooring and pokes me in my neck. Letting out a shocked gasp, I narrowly evade certain death by not only a pierced jugular, but also by gigantic juggernaught. Then, while still negotiating the rush hour mayhem, I do the one armed fandango, pull the metal half-hoop away from my throat and manage to tug the errant wire out, only to arrive for drinks with friends at the pub sporting that well known fashion faux pas, 'One Hung Low'.

And as if gymnastics, weight lifting and escape artistry wasn't enough, there is the sweat. Bras, especially those created for the larger bust, are made from many thickly seamed, elasticised pieces of fabric. In any weather, and especially during the summer, they are tight and insufferably hot.

“Then don't wear one,” I hear some of you shout. Yes, well, if I don't want to cause a massive pile up as my mammary glands bounce so enticingly when I walk, they are definitely going to have to be encased in something. But at this specific moment in time, I simply don't know what.

Any sensible suggestions you readers might have would be most welcome. Failing that, please try making me laugh with any ridiculous alternatives that probably spring to mind!

Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan (40th Anniversary)

I was never much of a Trekkie as a kid, being far more into Star Wars, but I always loved Wrath of Khan, the sequel to Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979), itself following on from the classic 1960’s television series.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture was too slow and too boring for my hyperactive (child) mind, as it wrongly attempted to be the next 2001: A Space Odyssey, dealing in deep philosophical question, rather than simply blowing things up in outer space. And although, with age, I have come to appreciate the first film a bit more, Wrath of Khan definitely remains the superior movie and arguably the best Star Trek film of all time. I recently re-watched it on the big screen for the first time, as it has been re-released for its 40th anniversary, and I enjoyed it every bit as much as I did back in the 80’s, only this time I could appreciate the things that escaped an 8 year old boy (I didn’t see it until it came out on VHS, or maybe even on TV). The film still has all the bits I loved back then, notably the grotesque bugs that crawl into people’s ears, epic space battles between federation starships and James Horner’s bombastic musical score that was so good, he basically ended up re-using it in nearly all of his films thereafter, exactly the same loop appearing in Titanic and Avatar, no less. But this time, I also saw that this was not just another Star Wars rip off. It is, in fact, Moby Dick set in space. Khan is Captain Ahab, hell bent on revenge and the destruction of his own great whale in the form of one Captain James T Kirk. There is even a copy of Moby Dick on the book shelf of Khan’s derelict space shuttle and he quotes Captain Ahab directly, screaming: “From hell’s heart I will stab at thee: for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee” as the movie enters it’s climatic showdown. This flick is also full of nautical references. Captain Kirk is now an Admiral. Their uniforms look like sailors uniforms. The ships fight broadside, firing their laser

cannons against each other and then stalk each other through electromagnetic nebula like submarines. In one scene, where Captain (sorry, Admiral) Kirk is talking with his loyal sidekick Dr McCoy back on earth, you can even hear the gentle clang of buoy bells and ship horns in the background. And that scene brings me neatly to the next point I missed as a wee lad, because in it they discuss Kirk’s birthday and how he is struggling to accept getting older. It’s done in a quiet and contemplative way and leads into themes of having to give up what we love, so that the next generation can take over, as we begin to face our own mortality, this time for Kirk at the hands of a crazed dictator out on a murderous rampage.

This theme of facing death comes full circle right at the end with the famous scene of Spock giving his life to save the Enterprise. Even though you know it’s coming, and (spoiler alert) Spock returns in the very next movie, it’s still moving and powerfully done, touching on deep friendships and the meaning of self-sacrifice.

So a great film that more than holds up 40 years on, making it a true sci-fi classic to my mind. Oh, and those terrifying brain eating bugs still give me the creeps!

Fall

I just had to write a quick review about this film which is currently out in cinemas and which may be the most fun I’ve had at the flicks this year, but arguable for all the wrong reasons.

The plot is really simple. Two thrill seeking climbers decide to scale the KRDK-TV tower (the fourth highest structure in the US), partly to help one of them get over a recent loss and the other simply to get likes on her Instagram account. The only problem is, they end up getting suck at the top with no way down and no way to contact anyone.

It’s certainly vertigo inducing in its execution and offers a fair few heart-in-mouth moments. But here’s the thing; both girls are ridiculously hot, wearing not much more than push up bras and tiny shorts. They even say they dress like it as it’s ‘tits for clicks’, while the director lingers a long time on their cleavage, to the point that it becomes quite laughable.

So if you want to watch two scantily clad, good looking and well-endowed women climb a large pole, this is definitely the movie for you!

The Honeymooners

OK, I promise this is the last nuptials based article I’m going to write and next month I’ll stop being all happy and go back to moaning about everything.

KiNGPiN

The Kingmeister reports

My lovely wife and I have just returned from our honeymoon in Kos, and what an absolutely amazing time we had. I’m fairly certain that in our 7 odd years together this was the longest we’ve had on our own. No kids, no dog, just the two us doing whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, and it was fantastic.

Usually our holidays are a little more adventurous. We never book a package deal and instead go somewhere we know there’s lots for us to explore, so we’re usually quite active. This time, however, we both agreed that after 2 years of Covid, home schooling, work and planning the wedding, we were knackered, so we opted for 10 days in Kos at the lovely Hotel Platanista where everything would be done for us and we could just relax and enjoy ourselves.

We had a stupid o’clock flight from Stansted, so we decided to start the honeymoon early and stay at the Radisson the night before. Before we dropped the car off and checked in we went to Stansted Mountfitchet and had dinner at a fantastic Indian restaurant called Brohmon and I have to say it was the best Indian food I’ve ever had. As well as the food being amazing, they also brew their own beer which was very good too and made a nice change from the usual pint of Cobra on offer.

The Radisson itself was nothing to write home about, but all we wanted was a bed for the night and a 2-minute walk to the terminal in the morning. The only thing to note was our room being situated at the end of the longest corridor I’ve ever seen, which coupled with the oddly patterned carpet looked like an optical illusion. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see those twins from ‘The Shining’ coming towards us on their tricycles.

One of my favourite parts of any holiday is when I first step off the plane and get hit by the warm air and sunshine, though it has to be said that after the weather we’ve been having in the UK this summer it wasn’t as much of a shock as it normally is. We booked our honeymoon fairly last minute through Secret Escapes and had a hire car thrown in, so we picked up our Nissan Micra at the airport and headed straight off to our hotel on the other side of the island.

The guy who gave us the car warned us that where we were staying, near Kos town, could be bad for traffic, so we were expecting it to be a bit of a nightmare. But being from an island with approximately 25,000 people compared to the almost 70 million in the UK meant his idea of traffic and ours were two very different things, as it didn’t seem much different to a trip to our local Co-Op.

The benefit of an early flight is that we were checked in at our hotel and lying by one of the pools just after lunchtime. We opted for the smaller pool which was quieter and just happened to have a pool bar, so it wasn’t long before we swam up to it, charged a couple of ice-cold drinks to our room tab and did that thing where the penny drops and you suddenly think ‘I’m actually on holiday’, so we immediately started to relax.

After a few lazy hours by the pool it was back to our room to freshen up before dinner, which was an all you can eat buffet affair and by the Gods it was good too. There were almost a dozen main courses to choose from and double that for starters. After being so well behaved on the food front for so very long before our wedding, I’m not ashamed to admit I tore through the buffet like Mr Creosote’s greedier brother. It was only after eating enough to feed a family of four for a week that my greedy eyes fell upon the dessert table, which was a glorious mountain of sugary, creamy cakes, tarts, baklava and ice-cream. I simply couldn’t decide what to have, so naturally I took the four that looked the most diabetes inducing and scoffed the entire lot.

about 20 years too late.

After the cruise we tried to find another slice of peace and tranquillity at Paradiso beach, an apparently picture-postcard stretch of white sand with warm blue waters, which it was. Unfortunately it was also home to a beach bar which too had giant speakers, although this time it was some weird European techno-drivel blaring out. Once again, 20odd years ago I wouldn’t have minded, but at 48 years of age my days of ‘banging techno’ are way, way behind me.

The real adventure started when we left and took a wrong turn along a mountain road that turned out not to be a road at all. After sliding down a steep incline we knew our little Micra would never make it back up, so we just had to keep on going and hope it didn’t get any worse. For 2 hours we basically went off-roading in a Nissan Micra and I’ll never say a bad word about those cars again. OK, so I had to push it up some of the steeper sections and move the larger rocks out of the way, but apart from that it took every bash and thump like a trooper and after 2 fairly stressful hours got us back onto a proper road at long last. More importantly it took us to a lovely little roadside taverna where we could have a well-earned drink.

After that we had a few quiet days and it was so nice just to unwind, swim in the pool and sunbathe all day, followed by an evening meal and then a few whiskeys and long island ice teas at the bar. We did venture out one evening to Zia for a ‘sunset meal’. Zia is a lovely little town nestled in the mountains that has several restaurants giving diners an amazing view across the island to the coastline and if you book a table for 7pm you can watch the sun sinking below the horizon while you dine.

Aside from regularly eating too much, our honeymoon followed a pattern of a day of activities and adventures, followed by a lazy day by the pool. Our first adventure was a 3-island cruise on a yacht, which unfortunately sounded nicer than it was. The boat itself was okay, but I got slightly perturbed seeing how many people were already on it and how many people were queued up behind us. They packed this thing to the rafters until it was almost standing room only. Honestly, if we’d landed off the coast of Kent the government would have had us shipped off to Rwanda.

After eventually finding somewhere to sit I turned around and my heart sank a little more when I saw two giant speakers. Surely not? We were about to cruise the beautiful waters of the Aegean, so it was a time to enjoy the peace and tranquillity, wasn’t it? No, it wasn’t. Apparently it was time to blast out appalling dance music for seven straight hours. At one point we sailed through an area known for dolphin sightings, but none materialised on this particular day, which surprised me. After all, any marine biologist worth their salt will tell you the best way to attract dolphins is to have ‘Gangnam Style’ blaring out at 200 decibels. It wasn’t all bad though and diving off the boat and swimming in the Aegean was lovely. If I’m honest, I just did this particular cruise

Just 15 minutes from our hotel was ‘Therma Beach’ where a hot spring came out of the cliff and ran into a large rock pool by the sea, so we headed there one evening and I was really surprised by just how hot it was. I was expecting it to be warm, but if that rock pool had been a bath I’d have definitely run the cold tap in it a bit more. It did smell of rotten eggs a bit too, but it was an interesting experience and it was nice to see it was a meeting spot for the locals. It must be lovely to have something like that on your doorstep and be able to spend a couple of hours after work lying in the hot water and catching up with friends and family.

Our final adventure was going parasailing, which was amazing. They took us up to 200 feet and while the view of Kos old town was fantastic, it was wonderful to finally attain that much desired feeling of utter peace and tranquillity that we had really yearned for

I loved Kos and being a huge fan of Greek history it was amazing to be able to visit places like Hippocrates hospital, the literal birth place of modern medicine, and wander the same pathways he might have done all those centuries ago. But it’s the people I’ll remember most. Literally everyone we met was so warm and welcoming, which made our visit to their island an absolute pleasure.

We’ll definitely be going back and we’re going to try and visit more of these amazing islands just as soon as we can. But not too soon, mind you, as I don’t think my waistline could stand it.

BOYFRIEND HAS UP TO 100 ERECTIONS PER DAY

A woman has spoken out about her unusual sex life, saying her boyfriend often has up to 100 stiffies a day and it’s knackering her out.

Vikki Brown (31) and Lucas Martins (39) met by chance in a Morrisons supermarket store and since then have enjoyed a passionate relationship to say the very least.

But Vikki says her partner’s erections are so frequent they can happen at any time, such as simply going out for a coffee together or in the local swimming baths.

Lucas has even been to see a doctor about it, but was told it was not a medical issue.

He reckons he has never experienced this sort of ‘cock led ting’ before meeting Vikki and puts it down to her being his ‘goddess’.

“She only needs to look at me, or make me a sandwich, and I get hungry for her,’ he admits.

“If the pheromone and testosterone link together correctly, I can easily have a full on erection just walking down the street with Vikki. I fall asleep with a hard-on and one and wake up with one too,” brags Lucas.

“Vikki is basically a forbidden fruit and for that reason I simply want to eat her up,” he continues unabashed. “I don’t need no Viagra whenever Vikki’s around,” he sniggers.

Vikki says Lucas has “always believed in decent intercourse with his women” and that she agrees because it intensifies the relationship.

“He just seems to want me all of the time,” she says, “and I do mean pretty much constantly.”

“But,” she adds, “it’s starting to get in the way of my chores and pretty much everything I need to get done in a day.”

They both live separately, for now, in Stoke-on-Trent, so she at least has a very much needed sexual respite every now and then.

But Vikki, who met Lucas during lockdown in 2020, wants to know if her partner’s constant erections are something other couples also experience?

“Throughout our entire relationship, Lucas has always had an erection; in shops, in bars, in restaurants, even at the gym,” says Vikki.

“There’s just no let up from it at all, so I’m simply wondering whether any other couples experience similar?”

Vikki says, “We actually met in my favourite childhood supermarket, Morrisons. I was in my work uniform, with wet hair and a mask on, and as I was queuing Lucas walked up behind me with a massive piece of fillet steak in his basket and said, ‘Wow, you’re so beautiful.’

So we got chatting and I immediately turned down three coffee dates, simply because I was happy being on my own at that time. But I guess persistence pays, as they say.

“And in bed it’s exactly the same. He’s like a ing machine at times. Even though he does nightshifts there’s no change in his pattern at all. It’s every single place we are at, or go to. We can be having a perfectly normal everyday conversation, like ‘shall we go see such and such a movie at the weekend’ and he’ll get an erection.

“Or I can simply come downstairs and walk past him and it’ll happen.”

“I can’t help it,” stresses Lucas. “She’s simply a wonderful woman and I love to the bones of her.”****

Now I have to say an article about ‘The Lie’ could provide enough material for a film script. Imagine several short films, all about a particular situation, and ‘The Lie’ surrounding that situation. That might well have to be a future project. But back to this particular script and the perpetuated lie, or lies, in fact, that are force fed to us daily. All corporations, big and small, publicly owned by us the taxpayer, or privately owned businesses alike, carry the same lie. And this lie is delivered in the same insidious way using the same method. Yes, the caller waiting message. Many of you had, no doubt, already worked out what ‘The Lie’ was. It is variations on a theme of …. “Your call is important to us” or “We are experiencing particularly high call volumes at the moment”, or my pet peeve, “Due to Covid...”. I know there are plenty of others, but you get the drift.

When I first went to work in London in 1977 (yes, I am that old) there were switchboards, manned by ladies called Bev and Sandra, who answered the phone. If the extension was busy, there were no answer-phones. Instead you simply waited and occasionally Bev, or Sandra, would let you know that she was “still trying to connect you”. Then we moved into the very early days of technology and sodding ‘Greensleeves’. I have nothing against this piece of music, derived from a 15th century story. Back then the word ‘green’ was associated with sexual activity, particularly outdoors. If a lady had ‘green sleeves’ it was assumed she had obtained those particular stains because of nudey prod games on the ground in the outdoors. There’s the educational part of this article, dear readers. So next time you hear it on a call waiting loop you can think about it in a totally different way. But where Greensleeves was always the go to piece for background to history programmes, suddenly we had it on a loop as we were put on hold. And hear it we did; I am guessing it was the only piece of music out of copyright that could be used for free, hence its overuse. I will say the waits back then were nothing like today’s beard growing sessions for somebody at Megasmeg Ltd. to actually speak to you.

I have to unusually credit Linked-In for some of my research on this article. So, where and when did it all start? America, of course. In 1962, that’s when. A chap named Alfred Levy ran a manufacturing business on Long Island in New York. One day, a caller told him there had been music playing on his telephone system while he was placed on hold. Levy wondered what it was and found that there was a loose telephone wire touching a girder in the factory. Next door was a radio station and the girders in the factory were picking up the broadcast like a big aerial. So Alfie, being a smart guy, had a Eureka moment that’s made our lives a misery ever since. He realised that if he could play music to his callers while they waited, they would stay on the line longer. Instead of treating it as a problem to be solved, he used it to his advantage. He applied for a patent on the idea ‘to provide a system that will connect the incoming call to a source of program material (eg. music), thereby to while away the idle time of the caller who is awaiting connection to a certain party or extension’. But I really take exception to the phrase ‘while away the idle time’. If only he could know that it is heart attack inducing, as opposed to merely whiling away the time in some kind of implied dreamy state. Levy was granted a patent for his lifetime and callers on hold have been informed and supposedly entertained ever since. As a dear friend in NY would say, “What a total git.”

But the real resentment should be held for one JD Seligmann, a man from Florida, who in the 1980’s was put ‘on hold’ to his bank and was listening to a radio station being played when he heard an advertisement for another bank. That’s not good, he thought. “Why allow other companies to take advantage of your customer’s time?” So JD took the idea to his recording studio and teamed up with another man we should have on the bullseye of our dartboards, one Byron Lancaster, an electrical inventor, and their joint venture, Digital Message Systems Corporation (DMS) first came into being. Soon, with their wonder tool, DMS messages specific to a particular company’s needs were recorded and mixed with the music played to callers. So by the early nineties, DMS had established a network of

dealers across the USA and ‘on hold messages’ took off as an essential means to ‘inform and engage callers’ while they waited to be put through. The rest, as they say, is not history, but the start of a dystopian nightmare. I do, however, take exception to the fact that these messages ‘inform and engage’ - more like ENRAGE!

Perhaps it’s time for the magical DMS service to record messages to reflect the modern age?

MOTCO on the Clapham Omnibus LIE aye,

There should be a new truth to these awful messages, as you sit simmering into a full-on rage for 20, 30, 40, 50 or even 60 minutes, and even longer if it’s British Airways, the world’s favourite bag of shite.

“Your call is important to us. Please wait.” Truth translation: “Now that we have your money we honestly couldn’t give a fig about you. That’s why we are charging you a premium rate to access services you have already paid for.”

“We are experiencing high volumes of calls at present and all of our agents are busy helping other customers.” Truth Translation: ”We got away with cutting right back during Covid and now we are lining our pockets with your money by not bringing staff back into full time occupation.”

“Due to Covid staff shortages we are experiencing long wait times.” Truth translation: “Due to Covid most of our staff have realised how we have flogged them to death for cheap wages. Now they are working somewhere else on a 40-hour week for more money and they don’t want to return as we still don’t want to pay them proper wages. But despite the board earning millions last year, they don’t seem to be able to grasp this concept.”

A research project, once again from Professor Lunchtime O’Booze at the university of the bleedin’ obvious, states the following astonishing facts: ‘The average Brit loses the equivalent of 26 days a year to wasted time. More than half of those polled named being ‘left on hold’ on phone calls as being the biggest drain on their time, while 45% said waiting in a queue wasted precious minutes.’ Though we do have to remember a key fact about queuing that could distort this number. If you see an Englishman standing alone at a bus stop, he is not alone. He is in a queue of one! Other quality time wasters are scrolling TV channels and, of course, being Brits, waiting for a cup of tea to brew properly among the worst culprits. This study of 2,000 adults found they typically spend one hour and 43 minutes every day just waiting around, while at least one hour and 40 of those minutes will be spent ‘on hold’ to Megasmeg Ltd. Customer Service, only to be answered and informed: “Oh no, you need accounts, but unfortunately I can’t transfer you. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Now I will declare right now, before I am deluged from call centre workers, that I used to be the senior relationship manager for an investment bank and a call centre in Leamington Spa that handled wealthy clients was on my client list. I know how it works and I was shocked when I first went there. That doesn’t make me an angel when I am stuck ‘on hold’ for hours though. I have to be honest and admit that I have been ‘terminated’ on more than one occasion. Not proud, just frustrated!

Meanwhile, we in The Edge Writers’ Lounge know your call is important to us and if we had a phone in there, we would definitely answer it (not)! More important though is the QR code to pay your quid and keep the mag going. After all, it’s a free magazine, so what more do you want for a quid...although a fiver would be better!

Off to Tenerife now to celebrate my 40th wedding anniversary with the beautiful and long-suffering Mrs Mott. Happy Anniversary, my love.

TOTALLY TRACIE

Nan said: “I knew he was a wrong un. He short changed me on my carrots once!”

She would then flick through the pages over to the ‘Hatch, Match & Dispatch’ section. Long before we had the luxury of Instagram and Facebook, people would take out adverts in the local paper to announce their ‘news’. The birth of a baby, an engagement, wedding or bereavement. Royalty would announce their news in the Times, whereas us East End Folk had to make do with 20 words for 75p at the back of our local paper.

Gosh, what a difference a month makes! Here we are, four weeks later, with a new Prime Minister and a new King on the Throne.

I had never really been a fan of King Charles III, but seeing him these last few days has made me warm to him a lot more. He has waited his whole life to become King and when he finally got there, it was a sad occasion. Seeing him appear in public that evening with red, swollen eyes and his shoulders burdened with sadness brought home to us all just how hard it is to carry on after the loss of a parent.

However, life is for living and the greatest gift we can give back to our parents is to live our lives to the fullest, to be happy and carry on their legacy, whether we are Kings, Queens or ordinary folk.

So it was on this note that I thought back to my Nan, who was a tough old East End lady who stood for no nonsense. Every Thursday after school she would send me to the newsagents to get a copy of the Walthamstow Guardian for her. It usually came out late on Thursday evenings, but officially it’s release to the shops was the following day. But my Nan being my Nan wanted to know all of the gossip immediately.

So I’d have to walk up to the Guardian Offices clutching 7p after school every Thursday evening to get a copy hot off the press, while my Nan would be pacing the room waiting for me to get back to her with it.

She would glance at the headlines and woe betide if she knew the person on the front page. I remember when our local greengrocer got caught drink driving my

My Nan would comment on them all: “That baby has a big head.” “That bride looks miserable.” “Look at the groom’s suit.” And then she would get to the deaths and if it was anyone she knew she would wipe the tears from her eyes and get all moody. “Won’t be long before I’m chip paper,” she’d say.

So on the subject of announcements, I want to make one too! My son Charlie made me the happiest mother alive by proposing to his girlfriend, Charlotte, in Paris last week. So I now have the most beautiful daughter-inlaw to be. I knew the moment that I met her that she was special and I kept wishing and hoping that one day they would make it official and my wish has now come true - and what a beautiful couple they make.

I am so happy that my son is joining her lovely, wonderful family and Charlotte is joining ours. I am so proud of them both.

So now we have all the excitement of a forthcoming wedding to celebrate.

I use my column this month to dedicate and to congratulate them both on the happiest engagement ever. "To Charlie & Charlotte". Oh and not forgetting the newest addition of the family, ‘Milo the Puppy’!

If anyone ever heard us doing it, I think we all agree, we’d be absolutely mortified, wouldn’t we? Because it’s such a stupid, stupid thing to do.

Let The Edge give you an example. I took the skin off my shin by colliding with the glass-topped table that sits in front of our patio furniture the other weekend and it prober bled. So what did I do?

Why, I gave it a right old mouthful, of course. Only let’s not forget, this is a glass-topped table we’re talking about here, that hadn’t moved an inch. The fault was all mine. One minute I’d been walking around it, the next I was clattering straight into it.

****

Have to say, “You absolute ing !” is a particular favourite put down of mine.

Moving On

One thing I detest about summer, even though I’m always sad to see the back of it, are flies. Yes, I appreciate they’re not inanimate objects, but I doubt very much they can ever understand a single word I say to them.

**** ****

Which, of course, it’s usually stuff like, “You ing dirty s!” Well, the stupid twats fly into our homes, don’t they, totally uninvited, then immediately make for our windows and our window frames where they omit their yellow dots of shite. Filthy swines. I tell you, if we carried on like that in other people’s houses, we’d never be invited back.

Get It Off Your Chest

Fact is, The Edge thinks it’s honestly healthy to let rip in such a fashion. Far better than bottling our disgust up and then revisiting it when we go to bed at night and not being able to get to sleep as a consequence.

Aye, without doubt, swearing can be a beautiful thing.

Why not refurb your existing conservatory?

Approved