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The Edge’s very own undercover correspondent MOTCO (see page 29) For all caricatures please email: benchurchett@aol.com Facecock: Ben’s Custom Prints Website: Benscustomprints.com Instagram: Ben’s Custom Prints Twitter: @BenLOFC
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The Edge Editor’s Column SPECIALISTS Spotted a notice in a dentists the other day that read: Specialists in oral health. Nothing wrong with that. Only the word ‘health’ was on the line below, so it certainly made me do a double-take.
HATE DOVES Our Maple tree was in need of a bit of a prune, so I got out the ladder and got stuck in with our extendable loppers. I honestly must have taken 4ft-5ft off in places, but when I was clearing up the carnage, I noticed a single smashed dove’s egg on our patio, which I’d obviously inadvertently disturbed as I was setting to. Now I’m no expert, but I was pretty certain it was a dove’s egg as there were some flimsy bits of twig scattered around it and I know for a fact that doves make the naffest nests in the entire history of ornithology. Sure enough, later that same afternoon, a dove kept on returning to the tree, I guess to look for its egg to incubate.
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I‘ll admit, I’m not a big fan of doves. They are third only to pigeons and seagulls in my worst birds thesaurus, so I kept on waving a brush at it and rustling the newspaper I was reading to make it FRO (flap right off). Oh and don’t they make the most irritating sound once in flight (like they’ve got a leak, or something). I’m not stupid though. I could tell this particular dove had the hump with me because early the following (Sunday) morning, who should land on our Juliet balcony right outside our bedroom window and start peering in? Yep, you guessed it. It was honestly like a scene out of ‘Chicken Run’. I just couldn’t believe it as I had never seen a bird land right outside our French doors in all the time we’ve had them. Never. And then, for good measure, it pupped on the glass before flying (leakily) off to show me exactly what it thought of me.
POCKET ROCKET Just for the record, ‘Essex Lad’ Jamie Oliver’s children are named as follows: Poppy Honey Rosie (16), Daisy Boo Pamela (15), Petal Blossom Rainbow (9), Buddy Bear Maurice (7), River Rocket Dallas (2). Now Pocket Rocket I could (sort of) go for. But all the rest? Nah.
WEIRD SENSATION Have to say, I have been completely bowled over by the sheer number of complete strangers who have contacted me, via The Edge, wishing me well after my ‘mild stroke’. However, far as I know, I haven’t even had one. Something quite weird happened to me, yes, that it’s difficult to describe and put into words. But the ‘mild stroke’ thing, I hope, was just the quack I saw waxing lyrical. Blood tests didn’t show anything untoward. If it happens again though, yep, I’ll be concerned.
SCREWING THINGS UP I don’t know about you, readers, but stuff like trying to attach a new light to the handlebars of my bike fills me with sheer and utter dread. Yes, I know it’s supposed to be a simple screwing mechanism that is aided by the use of a Phillips screwdriver, rather than using your own front teeth, but somehow it never seems quite as simple as that for me, me, me. Therefore I always somewhat ashamedly end up leaving such tasks to Mrs Edge, who is far more adverse and practical ‘than wot I am’.
GET RICH QUICK While I was chillin’ down in Polzeath recently, I got to thinking that I kind of liked doing nothing and simply watching the world go by. So as I was sat there, on a bit of a headland with a nice bottle of red, watching all the wouldbe surfers practicing their drowning techniques down below, I began to think about a decent Get Rich Quick scheme. And then all of a sudden, it came to me, in a flash, while I was looking out to sea. Ye Olde Seawater Gargle - bottled seawater to gargle with every day in order to, I dunno, kill bacteria of the mouth and promote spiritual wellbeing. Oh come on, you’d hand over a couple of quid for a litre of fresh seawater gargle, readers, surely?
WORLD CUP Have to say, I’ve been absolutely loving the World Cup. Of course it’s made a huge difference - huge - England getting off to a winning start. But at long last, it appears the management and players have finally come around to realising that anything really is possible. THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 077 646 7 97 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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DO NOT MISS this high energy band at The Lion Inn’s very first Summer Party of 2018 on Friday 13th July. This is a ticket only event (see details below) but they may well have already sold out, so why not contact The Lion Inn sharpish to see if your luck’s still in? Winston & The Lads are what’s described as a function band who have played the length and breadth of the UK over the past 7 years, as well as a wedding in the hills of Barcelona, and not forgetting their headlining performance on the Saloon Bar stage at Brownstock in the not too distant past. Make no mistake, these boys know just how to get a party started playing music from all genres and eras, including classic rock, pop, indie, soul, disco, Brit-pop, cheese and even big band swing. What are you waiting for?!?!?!
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A recent newspaper report reckons that each of us - yes, every single household of the average Brit - has a drinks cabinet stocked with between £1,000 and £3,000 worth of alcohol. Furthermore, it says we spend an average of £100 on booze every single month, ‘building up a stash’ of spirits, wines and beers. Now hell, I like a drink as much as the next man/woman, but this news has both shocked and perplexed me. Surely it can’t be right? To check out the theory, I’ve just had a bit of a tot up on a calculator and I am 100% certain that we do not have any more than £400 worth of alcohol in our house (unless the wife is hiding some away). If we were what I would call ‘well stocked’ (we don’t have a wine cellar, after all), I’m pretty sure we still wouldn’t exceed the £500 mark. So just where the hell are these people getting their information from? Readers, please go and check your own cupboards and cabinets, because I really need to know I’m not alone here, and do a bit of a tally up. Only remember, if a bottle of vodka or gin is half-empty, then you only need to count half of the bottle’s purchase price, as opposed to the full price (in my book at any rate). These results apparently come from a poll of 1,000 peeps, yet the report goes on to reveal that the average adult has a stash of 12 bottles of spirits, 7 bottles of wine, 2 bottles of prosecco (the wife’s got 6, plus a couple of bottles of champers), 1 bottle of champagne and 6 bottles of craft beer (why does it have to be craft beer?)...which is under a ‘monkey’, so just WHAT ARE THEY ON ABOUT?!?!?!
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OK, so I’ve explained to you readers in previous editions that it’s potentially our LTG (long term goal) to own a campervan, only before you take such a step, you really need to see whether you get on with the whole campervanning experience, don’t you? So we hired a WVM (white van man) campervan from local company Skin & Bliss Campers at Hartford End, just up the road from the old Ridleys Brewery, for a week at the end of May. One of the beauties of campervanning is that it is obviously more economical than staying in hotels. However, our week long jaunt cost us £100 per day to hire the campervan alone, but we really did need to see whether it was for us and seven hundred knicker is an awful lot cheaper than shelling out upwards of thirty grand to buy one, only to then discover that you’ve made a ricket it’s really not your bag, I trust you readers will agree. Yet what we also surprisingly discovered is that some families hire campervans on a regular annual basis. One family of four (plus a dog) that we got talking to in Cornwall regularly do just that and I guess, for them, it’s probably cheaper than booking everyone into a hotel for a week. But Campervanning v Hotels isn’t the argument in the majority of cases. I figure you buy a campervan because the great outdoors is truly in your soul and I recall the very first time I spent a night in a tent, in France, I absolutely loved it. Some people will never be converted and that’s fine, because that’s exactly what hotels are for. But choose the right campsite, get the right pitch (i.e. position on that campsite, because you need to consider where the sun rises and falls, whether you like high ground or low ground, the view etc.) and you can literally be in (hedge)hog heaven. Well, I can at any rate. What’s more, we literally experienced three mini-holidays in one at St. David’s, Polzeath and Swanage. So I hope you’ll forgive me for going on about it so very much in this particular Holiday/Staycation Special Edition of The Edge, because it was pretty much a journey into the unknown for us, and one I am so very glad we have taken.
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The White Hart Inn at Margaretting Tye, Ingatestone, recently announced the appointment of a new management team at this well established public house and restaurant.
share my vision of creating a true destination venue.” Paul recently re-located his family from London to Brentwood and values Essex’s wholesome and honest folk. His professional career has taken him all over the world and it was whilst working on a Greek island that he refined his art of utilising fresh, locally produced ingredients to create bespoke and varied seasonal menus that tend to push the boundaries. “I’d say that the summer menu at the White Hart Inn does have a Mediterranean influence, but also features healthy, classic options too,” says Paul.
as Bierra Moretti, Estrella Galicia, Aspalls and Strongbow. The extensive gin menu is accompanied by a range of Fever Tree tonics, not forgetting the ever popular prosecco, wines and champers. The new management team have invested a great deal of time, effort and money into The White Hart Inn, one of the biggest changes being the introduction of a packed summer 2018 entertainment calendar. A range of engaging, easy listening singers visit on alternate Sunday evenings and there’s the not to be missed annual summer beer festival (see below). Details of all White Hart events are listed both on the website (www.thewhitehart.uk.com) and Facebook page (The White Hart Inn Margaretting Tye). The management team has its sights set firmly on the local community and has already started a charity fund-raising campaign for Farleigh Hospice. Locals and families will always receive
Chelmsford-raised Paul Taylor (41) is the new GM and has already began his tenure with much aplomb. His immediate focus has been to create a menu that draws on fresh, locally sourced ingredients. For instance, the White Hart’s handmade pies offer a true ‘taste of Essex’ at this venue set in beautiful countryside. Paul has very high standards. His career in the food and drinks industry includes heading-up Westfield’s Aspers Casino in London, as well as time at David Lloyd Leisure. The high-end casino attracts visitors from all over the world and Paul managed a team of over 120 staff. He says, “Nowadays, diners require the highest standards and that’s one of the reasons why I came to the White Hart Inn, because the owners
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“I also spent considerable time on the children's menu as I have three young kids myself and I know how important it is to develop their palate by introducing them to wonderful flavours and colourful, fresh food. I’m also acutely conscious of special dietary requirements , which is why we cater for these too - including Gluten free.” For fans of liquid refreshments, the White Hart Inn offers quality cask ales direct from its temperature controlled cellar. There is a modern selection of lagers and ciders on draught, such
a warm welcome and regulars are already commenting on the high standards of customer service being offered.
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Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance. If there’s one thing my wife can never be accused of, it’s not being organised. And when you’re camping or campervanning, or both, you do not simply chuck a load of stuff in your motor. Least you don’t if you’ve got your head screwed on. You need to remember that this was a PRT (proper reconnaissance trip) for us, every bit as much as it was a one week break, so you need to have a military mindset at times. Such as chicken mayonnaise sandwiches made the night before you leave? Check. Alarm set for 04:00hrs the following morning? Check. Flask of coffee made straight after getting up (my job) and departing at 04:30am on the dot? Check. Our hired white campervan was 5-speed and didn’t have the 130bhp I’d want if one day we buy one, but the first thing you notice, being used to driving a car, is the elevated driving position. Nice. As you can see, Mrs Edge is a pretty hands-on kinda gal and was itching to get behind the wheel, so I handed her the reigns once I’d gotten the drudgery of the M25 out of the way. Have to say, I nearly had a fit as we approached the Severn Crossing. Being used to entering South Wales by car, bursting at the seams with our camping gear, I spotted the symbol of a van and the price quoted was £11.20. “Bloody hell, the thieving Welsh swines,” I am immediately cursing as I am counting out the coppers to give to the girl on the toll. “Oh, you’ve given me a nice tip there,” she smiled. Apparently a van with windows (like ours) is the same price as a car (£5.60) - it’s just metal box working vans that’re out earning a crust that get charged £11.20. Main thing is, we arrived at our favoured Porthclais Campsite without any bother whatsoever, keeping the campervan at no more than 70mph. Then after a couple of cold beers after choosing our pitch (oh
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yes, you get a refrigerator in a campervan, don’t you know, which is 5-star compared to camping in a tent), we immediately set off on the 3hr coastal yomp from St.David’s to Whitesands Bay. That night though, our first ever night sleeping in our white shoebox, oh dear. We set the alarm off (which we had inadvertently set) twice within 5 minutes of each other, at 03:20am, and it was not quiet either. Oh how to endear yourselves to your neighbours. This meant we hardly dare move or even turn over in bed inside the campervan for the remainder of the night.
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But we text Mark at Skin & Bliss, who was always at hand, and it never happened again. Thing is though, we weren’t quite at home, you know? The campervan was new to us, so we were discovering how it worked, space options and how we fitted into it, or didn’t, as the case may be. We needed time and, Mrs Edge in particular, needed to make it our home for the week, and that only comes about through cracking organisation. Also, there was the foreboding challenge of erecting the blow-up porch to the side of the campervan, but I thought I’d have another cold beer first and leave that until we arrived at Southwinds Campsite in Polzeath, Cornwall, in a couple of days time.
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New owner Darren Pratt wasn’t even on the look out for a venue, which just goes to show that men can be every bit as guilty of window shopping as women. “I was just walking past when I thought I’d have a cheeky peek, like you do,” admits DP, “and I was instantly smitten.” To be fair, The Edge knows exactly where he’s coming from, as it has long held a soft spot for the former Strada and Bake’n’Grape venue. Unlike the Bond Street development, which let’s face it could be anywhere, The Courtyard in Baddow Road, Chelmsford, oozes character. The cobbled courtyard itself (the area, as opposed to this new bar’s name) is a wonderful place to simply relax and unwind, with two large hangingchairs, outdoor heaters, and is discreetly shielded from the hustle and bustle of our thriving city, with sunny as well as shady seating choices for al fresco eats and drinks. Downstairs inside there’s shabby chic wooden flooring and exposed brickwork with views through large windows out onto Parkway, whilst upstairs there are exposed bulbs, sofas and two bright red American full-size pool tables that are bookable by the hour and are proving surprisingly popular. “I was looking for a Shoreditchy/Hoxton type feel and I’d recently been in a bar in London where a bit of table-tennis was going on, which gave the place an ultra-relaxed feel and seemed something a little bit different. Hence our two pool tables.” Darren stresses that The Courtyard is a bar that sells food, as opposed to being a restaurant. “We’re offering quality burgers, pizzas, slider platters (for sharing at either £12.95, £24.95 or £34.95), various salads from £9.95 and delicious skin-on chips. We’re also going to be introducing a weekly specials board and afternoon teas very soon, so watch this space.” The pitch is that The Courtyard is a ‘grown up bar for grown up people’ where the music doesn’t get too loud, but that needn’t stop you shaking your booty to the rhythm if you want to. What’s more, there’s Birra Moretti, Heineken (the proper 5% stuff) and Maltsmiths American IPA (4.6%) all on draught and absolutely loads of gins (inc. Ferdinand’s Saar Dry, 44%), vodkas (inc. Sauvelle, 41%) and rums (inc. Plantation, 40%), plus 10 different cocktails at £7.95 a pop (or 2 for £12). When you buy 2 large glasses of wine you get the remainder of the bottle at no extra cost and Happy Hour is from 5pm-8pm daily. Tuesdays: Buy 1 pizza, get one free. Wednesdays: Buy 1 burger, get 1 free. The Courtyard is open from Tuesdays to Sundays (closed Mondays) from 11am ’til midnight, with a late license until 3am on Fridays and Saturdays.
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When new owner Darren Pratt informed The Edge he was putting pool tables into The Courtyard, I have to say I was not best pleased. But there’s only two of them and aesthetically they do seem to work (but I hate pool)!
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After a blissful second day at St.David’s, when this time we trekked the shorter coastal walk east to the quaint little resort of Solva and necked a few cold bottles of Black Dragon Welsh cider (6.5%) whilst sat in the sunshine outside the delightful Cafe on the Quay, overlooking Solva Harbour, which is one of my favourite UK vistas, we had a bit of a confab and decided to leave for Polzeth in Cornwall and spend 3 days there, instead of just two. Even though we left at 05:45am, with traffic and hold ups, it seemed to take an absolute age to get out of Wales and ended up taking over 3 hours. It was a relief to eventually get onto the M5 (I honestly don’t say that very often) and head down to Exeter, before cutting through Cornwall on the A30, stocking up with some goodies at Wadebridge, before eventually pitching up at Southwinds Campsite on our favoured pre-booked pitch - no. 41 - in their Trenant Field (yep, we’re that anal about these sort of things). Now Polzeath, on a glorious day, is probably my favourite little piece of England, bar none. There’s somehow a magic to it (sounds odd, but I definitely think there is) that’s really hard to describe, but then I guess you either feel it, or you don’t. For the often SOM (stressed out me), it’s a place of pure and utter relaxation (it’s so very easy to simply do nothing there and not get bored) with right shit mobile phone reception down on the beach, so you get absolutely no unwanted distractions whatsoever. The weather, like St.David’s, though never as cold, is often a bit up and down, so as we were staying for 3 days and nights, we decided to unveil the blow-up porch that we’d paid an extra £25 to hire from Skin & Bliss Campers. Now earlier in the mag I told you my wife is mega-organised and there’s pretty much nothing she can’t do, right? Well she, the organ-grinder, was directing me, the monkey, and it honestly didn’t take us long to get the porch inflated and connected to the campervan at all, and what a fantastic porch is was too (see top of page). What’s more, we also got connected to an electrical hook-up point which made it 21st century camping all the way. My god, we were truly in camper-hog heaven. And as I’m used to sleeping on a blow-up mattress in a tent after all these years, I slept so much better out in the porch than I did in the confined space of the campervan, so that’s something else I learnt. And it was at the bottom of the hill, right by the beach, that we met Amanda and Stuart (see facing page) from Burnley, owners of the Cone Zone, the following morning just before 09:00am, for probably the best bacon and fried egg muffin in a beautifully soft brown seeded bap that we’d ever eaten in our entire lives (apart from one we had on the island of Sark). I think it’s the people who make Polzeath, and as Stuart informed me, it’s not as though many of them running the numerous businesses there these days are locals. But the place simply seems to attract, by and large, what I would describe as ‘the right sort of people’ (take that how you like). There’s also the ‘Polzeath look’. You know, the all over tan, the tousled, bleached-blonde hair and the surfboard under your arm. Weird thing is, I’d call the waves there pretty much perfect for beginners, it’s just everyone seems to think they’re on Baywatch. And check out this local plasterer’s van (right) that we saw parked up on the beach in the latter part of the afternoon. Apart from his trowel, his adhesives and his mixing paddle, there must have been 4 surfboards (inc. one for wet weather?) in the back, and just how wonderful must it be to be able to do that straight after you’ve finished work? Yep, Polzeath sure beats Chelmsford hands frickin’ down.
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Did you watch Springwatch, readers? Here at The Edge household, we were always avidly tuned in as there’s some wonderful stuff on there, but also some rather quite disturbing things too. For instance, the main reason Welshman Iolo Williams got chucked off the show, we believe, is not solely because of his ridiculous name and accent, but because of his constant manspreading (see above) which main man Chris Packham took a huge exception to in defense of his colleague, Michaela Strachan. But there’s some proper funny stuff that goes on too. For instance, they were discussing when these lovely ickle baby blue tits would fledge the nest and the presenters often predict a day and a time to see who’s the closest. So one Friday evening, Michaela asks Lucy Cooke for her prediction, and Lucy answers, without a word of a lie, readers (The Edge is telling you this gospel, because it paused the tele, rewound then recorded it in order to WhatsApp it to a few friends): “I reckon those tits will be out by Saturday night.” Proper TV GOLD, or what? And then there’s some sad stuff, like when a young owl discovered a blackbird’s nest with chicks in an old barn. But, y’know, that’s simply nature for you. A few years ago, we probably wouldn’t have tuned into Springwatch, but you surely must, readers, as it’s so absolutely fascinating. (Autumnwatch next!) I just figure the older you get, the more you become atuned to nature and to programmes like this. Wife even wants some cameras set up in our garden so that she can watch our NEW hedgehog, who has seemingly superseded Hector (shock/horror).
I don’t know what it’s like where you live, readers, but where we live there are a fair amount of trees. And at this particular time of the year, we go to bed with the windows open and very often leave the curtains about 10” to 12” inches ajar too. And we’ve also got a couple of Velux windows right above our bed that are open and don’t have any blackout blinds for. So what I’m saying is, I am regularly woken up not long after 04:00am to the sound of birdsong, before I’ll stumble out of bed, have a pee, then put on a pair of those eye-patch things that the airlines give you whenever you fly, if you ask them nicely. Because in short, not to put too fine a point on it, it’s like waking up in the middle of a blood aviary, with all the squeaking and squawking. Still, I shouldn’t complain, as THE NIGHTS ARE ALREADY GETTING DARKER BY THE DAY, which is an incredibly sad and sobering thought. The Edge 077 646 797 44
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Now we wouldn’t have seen this if we’d gone away to Portugal or the South of France or Crete for a week, I’ll bet...therefore neither would you. But just have a good old butchers at these two pics and tell me that they don’t warm the cockles of your hearts, readers? The Edge absolutely loves this and when it made enquiries from some of the locals at St. David’s, it’s apparently called knit-bombing. A bunch of old ladies (although you don’t have to be old to knit, do you?) seemingly get together, knit away, and every now and then, during the dead of night, they get up and go out clothing there ickle city (honest to god, St. David’s is the smallest city in the UK and when I say small, I mean it is no bigger than Writtle and makes Chelmsford look like a bustling metropolis). The Edge just thinks this is so, so wonderful/cute and is wondering if not some LLL (lovely local ladies) could do something similar in our lil old town (oh come on, we’re still a town, for goodness sake)? And if I may point you ladies in what The Edge considers to be the right direction, I’d say that Bell Meadow (that’s the lovely little park out the back of M&S, isn’t it?) would be an ideal place to start. After you’ve formed your official Edge knitting circle, I hasten to add. Clickety-clack, ladies. There’s no time to waste.
It is situated on the beach at Polzeath (although word has it that there are now others dotted about in Cornwall) and The Edge thinks it is such a brilliant concept that it wonders why Chelmsford hasn’t got one? Surely some bright, enterprising individual, or company, could make a proper go of a venture such as this, although The Edge appreciates that it’s all about location, location, location. My first thought was for one to be positioned on the site where the Muddy Waters restaurant used to sit on the River Cam - do you remember that, readers? Only then I got to wondering about limited passing trade. So where could one go? It’s tricky trying to think of somewhere, I’ll grant you, but surely there has to be somewhere? The Edge just loves wacky and innovative ideas such as this, anything that challenges the multiple coffee sellers who have a cafe (or two, or even three) in the majority of towns and cities. And it’s such a great (Wavehunters) logo too. I guess it’s a costly process, but surely all independent cafes really need to have their own logo on their take-out cups as it’s such a good way of getting their name about.
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Huge thanks to the cocktail shaker extraordinaire that is Thanda, soon to be leaving the shores of Chelmsford for Jersey, for inviting myself and a +1 (I chose ‘Polish Jan’ from Zagger) for a spot of cocktail tasting at Chop Bloc on Friday 8th June. N.B. Pray, were they under the gross misapprehension that The Edge ‘could be bought’ under such circumstances???
SUPERBOY
EDGE
the
First up was something called a Los Altos, which was tequila based with a large basil leaf stuck in it for good measure. Jan’s verdict: “Niiiice. Lovely and citrussy. A fair few of these would slip down well when I’m in Portugal (here we bloody go, readers) down by the marina.” There then followed a White Negroni containing three lots of alcohol, including Beefeater 24, Cocchi Americano and Lillet Blanc vermouth, the latter of which Jan was all over as he’s a huge James Bond fan. It tasted proper dry and had the rind of a piece of lemon in it. “Oh yes,” enthused Jan. “Daniel Craig sank ten of these in Quantum of Solace and this is as close to a Vespa as you’re ever going to get.” I didn’t really know what he was on about, but what I did notice was that he’d almost downed his while I was just starting mine. “This stuff’s like water to us Poles,” he confirmed. Enter the wonderful Abbie (Ruth) from Wakefield, just before Thanda lined us up a couple of Violet Martini(s), which actually looked rather violent until he dropped a couple of pansy petals into ’em. Have to say, by this time, not having eaten, we were certainly beginning to feel the effects/buzz already. Cocktail no. 4 was a Bloc Club, made with Hendricks, Extra Dry Martini, lemon and raspberry and looked a proper treat, whilst we serenaded each other with “Darlin’, reach out for me...” by the Four Tops from the boys from Tropical Soul (at Chop Bloc the first Friday of every month). Had to wait a while for a Joey Tribbiani (straight rye whisky, 100% proof, Martini Rosso, Creme de Cacao, All Spice, Grand Marnier) as the Bloc Bar had filled right up and Jan was wary of this one as he reckoned it might give him heartburn, the tart. Lovely touch with Thanda grating some nutmeg on top too. Two to go, as I had to cycle home (good luck with that). First up was my favourite drink of the night, a Gol D. Roger with some 23 year old Ron Zacapa (whatever that was as I had pretty much lost the plot by then), Martini Rosso, Dom Benedictine etc. It was served as though someone had put a dirty great ciger out in your drink (you have to try one, readers). Followed by a Blue Jean with Bacardi Gold, Malibu, Blue Curacao. Thanda, thank you for a great night. Excellent impersonation of Omid Djalili by one of the barmaids. Sharon Stone looked swell too. And Jan, GROW UP and stop drawing cocks on my notepad whenever I go off for a pee! Edge Editor, Chief Mixologist Thanda and Jan from Zagger in Chop Bloc 8.6.18
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The Edge has always liked Hugh Grant. Yep, in Four Weddings, Notting Hill, Love Actually, Bridget Jones etc. But his role as disgraced former Liberal MP leader Jeremy Thorpe (19671976), the youngest leader of any British political party in 100 years, has really added some meat to his CV, and not before time too. But hey, if you’re not offered a particular part and directors only see you as they see you, really, whose fault is that? Hugh absolutely shone recently in A Very English Scandal when he played the lead role of Jeremy Thorpe in the BBC’s three-part adaption of one of the biggest scandals ever to hit British politics. In the late nineteen sixties, homosexuality had only just been decriminalised in England when Norman Scott chose to ‘out’ Jeremy Thorpe. Thorpe was eventually tried and acquitted of plotting to murder his former lover at the Old Bailey in 1979 after one of the most notorious judgements in legal history. The level of deceit and corruption involved were literally on a breath taking scale. The higher Thorpe climbed up the greasy political ladder, the greater was the threat to his ambition by Norman Scott. Thus Thorpe’s anxiety and obsession, as regards what to do with Scott, became desperate. In court, Thorpe had a brilliant lawyer called George Carman who banned him from entering the witness box. It was a gamble as it may have made Thorpe look as though he had something to hide - and by god he did - but it also saved him from answering any questions from the prosecution. Eventually, Mr Justice Cantley, in his morally biased summing up, instigated one of the greatest miscarriages of justice of the 20th century. After the trial, though acquitted, but no longer leader of his party (and having lost his seat in the May 1979 General Election just before the trial), Thorpe’s reputation had been damaged irreparably. Everyone imagined he was guilty and thus began to treat him accordingly. Hugh Grant lost 6 kilos for the part of the gaunt looking Thorpe after buying a bicycle and cycling for hours around Richmond Park over the course of a four month period, while his cheeks looked hollower due to make-up. But the shining light was his perfect performance of Thorpe in what must surely gain him a very much deserved Bafta.
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Edge Editor
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STAYCATION Would you seriously consider taking a holiday in England, Scotland, or Wales... instead of jetting off elsewhere?
playing ball, or riding their bicycles. Simply doing the things that I used to do when I was a kid and although I’m not a parent myself, it really was wonderful to see.
As I’ve already written, me and the missus have often taken our main two week holiday of the year in the likes of India, Thailand, Vietnam or Sri Lanka. But this year, we decided to split it in two by doing a week in 4-star luxury at the very lovely Elba Resort in Lanzarote, followed two months later by ‘roughing it’ in a campervan in Pembrokeshire, Cornwall and Dorset.
It can take 5 or 6 hours, sometimes even longer with hold-ups, to get to the likes of Cornwall, but one of the most miserable experiences I can ever recall was flying from Stansted to Newquay. I absolutely hated it. Four of us driving and parking up at Stansted took the best part of an hour. And you always have to be there a couple of hours before your flight is due to depart, don’t you. Which is very often delayed. Then when you disembark at the other end, you have to join a queue and go through all of the rigmarole of sorting out the car you’ve hired, which is never what you ordered, or parked where they tell you it is. Bah. I hated it.
And do you know what? I definitely know which one I got the most out of, and it wasn’t the Spanish island. So far as a Staycation in Blighty goes, we’re always at the behest of the weather, aren’t we? To be honest, there’s no way I would have switched our two breaks around months wise and hired the campervan for the last week of March. Repeat: NO WAY! But England, when the sun shines, like it most surprisingly did throughout much of May. Can you really beat it? Well yes, of course you can. But on the other hand, I don’t think you should dismiss the idea out of hand. Do you? On campsites, we saw kids playing with other kids they had only just met. They weren’t on their phones or their iPads or goodness knows what else they have at their disposal these days. Instead, they were outdoors, running around,
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What’s more, you don’t have to waste any time at airports with a Staycation either. Yes, sure, I accept that our roads can get horribly congested and are often prone to traffic jams. So why not do what we do and leave early (before 05:00am), or really explore our country a little bit more by travelling along some of its ‘B’ roads?
You don’t always have to go abroad to experience a truly great holiday On our recent campervan trip/tour, it really did feel as though we experienced three holidays in one, as there was such a contrast between St.David’s, Polzeath and Swanage, both in the land and the indigenous people, plus the tourists, who really were all so very different in type.
Time is precious, so seriously, if there are two (or more) of you sharing the driving, why not seriously consider travelling through the night and arriving bright and early the following day, as it’s light from 04:30am and you can always just crash out on the beach and have some zzzzzz’s. To be honest, I love long weekends away in Blighty from May through to September, with North Wales and the Lake District (the wife has eventually twisted my arm) next up on our to do list. So hey, why not give a Staycation a go?
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SURF’S UP!
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Before he was forced to walk the plank as Arsenal manager, Arsene Wenger stated that he didn’t think it would be long before an European Super League supercedes the Premier League, and The Edge thinks he might well be right. Consider this, as opposed to our current 20-team Premiership:AC Milan Athletico Madrid Barcelona Bayern Leverkusen Bayern Munich Borussia Dortmund Borussia Monchengladbach Inter Milan Juventus Liverpool Lyon Manchester City Manchester United Marseille Monaco PSG Real Madrid Roma Tottenham Hotspur Valencia
“But what about us?” cry all of you Arsenal and Chelsea fans out there, when really, The Edge figures you already know the answer to that little conundrum. Naturally such a Super League wouldn’t remain as 4 clubs from the Premiership, 4 from Serie A, 4 from the French Ligue 1, and 4 from the Bundesliga. It would evolve over the course of time, and, who knows, maybe one day it would contain perhaps as many as 6 former Premier League clubs?
Not bad, eh? It surely beats Cardiff versus Huddersfield on a wet Tuesday night in Wales, don’t you think? Or Burnley versus Brighton? Or Watford versus Fulham?
Moving on, the English divisions definitely need to lose whatever is the equivalent of the League Cup, because what is the point of having two very similar knockout competitions? The F.A. Cup needs to regain some of its former prestige. All those in favour, say “Aye”. Let’s be hearing your views on both this and the World Cup.
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For the remainder - for the likes of Everton, Newcastle and West Ham - they’d just have to remain in Blighty and set about gaining promotion/inclusion to such an advanced, money-rich, super structure. Unless, of course, it remained a closed shop, where no promotion or relegation was allowed, which The Edge doesn’t personally think would be to its advantage.
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Q. How difficult have you found creating a business and a brand that actually appeals to the public? “Creating a business and a brand is something that I don’t believe happens overnight. The vision has always been clear. It is something I have actually been working on for years, but was never entirely sure it would materialise. The brand, however, has developed as the business has grown. Of course I had some idea of the direction I wanted to take it all in, but I was also keen to adapt to whatever was current and what people would genuinely enjoy. If you haven’t been to Training Space, then you should definitely come and see what we’re all about. I wanted to provide a space for people to workout in, but also feel comfortable to chill-out in, hence the contrasting ice-hockey table and pull-up bars - both there to offer a good time! “As with any business, you can’t expect it to appeal to everyone, but my real objective was for it to speak to those people who care enough to be better, to be fitter, to be healthier. After just a year in business we’re almost at the 100-member mark, which was a huge target I set myself. Particularly as TS started out as a lowly warehouse. But just look at us now, with members ranging from 18-75, from all different backgrounds athletes, long term fitness lovers, the occasional person treating or recovering from injury or illness etc. People come with different goals, but the glue that holds this place together is that everyone here actually wants to be here to train and work hard, and as a result the vibe can only be described as epic.” Q. What does Training Space do? Sure, it’s a gym, but how would you say you specialise? “Let’s be honest, what most gyms provide is fairly similar in terms of equipment, classes, the list goes on. But what I think separates us from the rest is the TS community. The people, the passion, the energy and the drive to be better creates an entire experience, making it a whole lot more than just another gym. Our members don’t come back because they feel they should maybe get a quick session in. They come back because what we have created here is addictive. The variation from the classes to the trainers is pretty large, yet what we offer is niche, because we are constantly learning and evolving our approach to training to ensure our members have an enjoyable experience.”
sion is simply about enjoyment and quality and I believe this is reflected in the TS programming. I’m a firm believer that training should be adapted to improve a person’s lifestyle. It would be an injustice to simply box off my chosen style of training as I really am pretty open minded. I don’t want myself or my members to be tied down, but instead to experiment, learn constantly and keep things interesting. That way everyone in the TS family retains their focus.” Q. Do you think you’ve changed since opening TS? “Opening Training Space has been a huge learning curve. I’ve learnt so much more about people, the way they function, the way their working day can affect their training etc. So many factors have helped me to create a training programme that compliments real life situations. It includes everything from functional movements, to weightlifting and even improving confidence. I honestly place equal importance on each of these factors and still learn something new every single day. “It’s so interesting to see the difference in members. There’s some that just want to take their aggression out at the end of the working day, there’s the occasional parent who needs an hour to themselves after a stressful school pick-up, even the odd student who needs someone to explain to them that calories are fuel and shouldn’t be feared. There are so many scenarios that I am now far better equipped to deal with l and I don’t think there will ever be a day that I won’t be evolving and changing. I find myself taking more time to think things through and be compassionate. I try to be creative and simply be better. Is what I’m offering good enough? Am I providing a good enough service? How can I do any more? I guess you could say I’ve grown up a little bit over the past twelve months!” Q. What’s your favorite aspect of owning your own gym? “I hope this doesn’t sound corny, but it’s simple - I really like to help. I like it that people achieve their goals here. I like to see my friends, family and clients feeling proud and accomplished. Knowing that I’ve played a small part in encouraging the growth of their health, happiness and confidence is so very rewarding. As is watching them all come back and sharing their achievements with their friends and colleagues. I love all that!”
Q. Is owning your own business everything you thought it would be?
Q. How do you see the future of your business panning out?
“Owning a business is fun, but I think that people don’t generally see the amount of sacrifice that goes into it, and therefore assume that fun is all it is. The reality of the matter is that it’s really pretty challenging on a daily basis, but watching the brand grow and the people who come here grow within themselves makes all of the challenges so very worthwhile.”
“I said my dream was to own TS, right? Well, for that reason, I simply see a future that contains a bigger and better version. I’d love to continue to create new ways to offer as much as I possibly can to the members because they really do deserve it. They’re the reason I get up so very early each morning and come to work with a smile on my face. So if I can provide them with more venues, more classes and more perks, then that really would be something.
Q. What motivates you? “I am constantly motivated by the fact that all I’ve ever wanted in life is my very own gym, so now that I’ve got it, staying focused is really pretty simple for me. I’m fortunate enough to be in a position whereby I’ve created TS and hope I have made it a pretty special place to be, so I’m going to do my best to continue to make it as great as I possibly can.” Q. Where do you find your focus? “From my own training. Training myself is my ‘down time’, the only real time I get to myself. I guess you could even call it self-therapy. Each ses-
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“I’m also a huge foodie, so more of a nutrition focus is definitely in the pipeline. I’d like to help educate and make healthy food more accessible. Without giving away too much, there are already plans underway, so just watch this (training) space.”
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BREXIT SABOTAGE I don’t know about you, but it certainly seems to me that the remoaners amongst us are trying to defy the will of the British people by frustrating the Brexit process and pressing for the worst possible customs union to keep us closely aligned to the EU. Most notably of all is George Soros, the Billionaire American Financier, who is reported to to have donated in excess of £700,000 to support groups looking to water down or block Brexit.
This really does smack of remainers cutting their noses of to spite their face. With the Brexit vote we had a golden opportunity to negotiate our own trade deals independently and free from the shackles of the EU, but if we do enter the customs union on these proposed terms, we are setting ourselves up to fail, which will obviously delight those remainers desperate to tell us that they told us so, despite being the orchestrators of our own economic downfall.
DRONE The problem is the campaign for a second referendum seriously undermines our government and would likely lead to yet another General Election. Surely it cannot be right for a foreign plutocrat to be able to undermine British democracy? Our approach to negotiations on Brexit to date has been shambolic, with Teresa May and the Conservative Party on the verge of betraying its word, it’s manifesto and the will of the British people. The proposed ‘customs partnership’ would mean the UK remained aligned with EU regulations for an unspecified period of time and well beyond the Brexit date of March 2019. In reality, this means that we will be subject to a whole raft of EU Law (including judgments from the ECJ) whilst losing our voice, rights and influence; quite plainly, this would be the worst outcome of all possible outcomes.
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Last Christmas I asked my wife for a drone and boy, did she deliver. So there I was, on Christmas morning, anticipating a gimmicky type one from Boots ‘3 for £10 range’, but much to my delight she presented me with a DJI Phantom 3 Standard. This aircraft is a ‘quadcopter’ with a maximum flying altitude of 120 metres and the capability to cover distances up to 0.5 miles, which in short makes it a massive amount of fun.
If you are a professional drone pilot who is paid to record people’s wedding days, then clearly this isn’t the model for you. But if you are an entry level pilot, looking for your first ‘proper drone’, then this really could be just what you are looking for. The pictures you can take on it’s 12 megapixel camera are incredible, while it’s 2.7k HD video allows you to capture crystal clear footage. Most impressively of all, the drone has some kind of built in ‘magic’ (called GPS and intelligent flight mode) that makes it incredibly easy to control and safe to fly (it returns to a designated home point all by itself if you ever get into any trouble). Trust me, if you have a spare £500 knocking about, then get yourself down to Argos and buy yourself one of these. You seriously won’t regret it.
LOVE ISLAND Now I’m not going to lie, but this next line is probably more cringeworthy than my recent article where I confessed to enjoying a spray tan or two. Okay, here goes; I am absolutely addicted to Love Island. I’d never seen the show before, after previously flat out refusing to watch such mind-numbing, trash TV. However, I have to admit that there is something so strangely addictive about the format that it has made me unabashedly smitten.
Billy Hinken For those of you that haven’t even seen it yet (where have you been?) the basic premise is that a bunch of good looking 20-somethings are holed up in a villa in Spain, attempting to find love. If a couple makes a success of their romance and stays together until the end of the series, then the public can vote for them to be the winners. Of course, it’s not an easy road, so it’s basically like a real life soap opera, detailing the joy, misery and heartbreak of young love. Or, to put it another way, loads of cheating, lying, backstabbing and sleeping around, all played out in front of the British public. It really is a sad indictment of modern day society, but I honestly can’t get enough of it.
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ONLY JOKING! EVIDENCE
A Nottingham woman (pictured below) lost her case at Nottingham Magistrates Court the other day when she tried to sue NUH Queens Medical Centre after her husband went in for an operation which she claimed left him unable to have sex with her afterwards. Mrs Minger, of Bulwell, aged 67, said to reporters outside the court, "Me and me 'usband, Fred, 'ave 'ad bangin' sex for years ‘til 'e went t'ospital and 'ad 'is operation. Now 'e's simply not interested and it's all down to them twats." The surgeon who performed the operation and attended court to give evidence said, "All we did was remove Fred's cataracts."
“Jesus! Whatever for?” gasped the Mother Superior, astonished and also somewhat disappointed, all at the same time. “You must tell me what drove you to such blasphemy?” “Well, we were on the fifth tee and this hole is a monster, Mother,” said the Sister. “It’s a 540 yard, Par 5, with a nasty dog leg to the right and a hidden green. Well, I went and hit the drive of my life, didn’t I. I absolutely creamed it. It was the sweetest strike I’ve ever made of a golf ball, I’m telling you. And it's flying straight and true, right where I wanted it to go. Only then it hits a bird mid-flight!” “Oh my,” commiserated the Mother. “How dastardly unfortunate. But surely that didn't make you take the Lord’s name in vain?” “No, that wasn't it,” admitted the Sister. “But while I was still trying to fathom quite what had happened, a squirrel ran out of the woods, grabbed my ball and ran off down the fairway with it.” “Oh, so that’s what made you blaspheme?” sympathised the Mother. “Oh no, Mother, no,” insisted the Sister. '“It was while I was pondering whether this was a sign from God that a hawk swooped down out of the blue, grabbed the squirrel and flew off with it, and with it my golf ball which the squirrel was still clutching in its mitts.” “Ah, so that's when you cursed?” said the Mother, with a knowing smile. “No, no, that wasn't it either,” cried the Sister, anguish written all over her face. “Because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started to struggle and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, where my ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the cup.” The Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said... ”You missed the f ing putt, didn't you?”
***
DENISE
GOLFING NUN A nun walks into her Mother Superior's office and plonks herself down into а chair before letting out a heavy sigh of frustration. “Pray, what troubles you, Sister?” asked the Mother Superior. “I thought today was the day you spent with your family?” “It is. It was,” sighed the Sister. “I ended up having a round of golf with my brother. We try to play as often as we can. I was actually quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ, you know?” “Yes, I seem to recall you mentioning that a time or too,” yawned her Superior. “So I take it your day of recreation was not as relaxing as you’d hoped?” “Far from it,” snorted the Sister. “In fact, I even took the Lord's name in vain upon a couple of occasions, which I’m not very proud of.”
Paddy’s pregnant sister was in a horrific car crash, resulting in the hospital keeping her in a coma for eight months. She woke up to find she was no longer pregnant. Frantically she asked the doctor about the baby. The Doc tells her that she had twins, a boy and a girl, and both are doing fine. “However, they were poorly at birth, we didn’t think they would make it.” said the Doc, “so they had to be christened immediately. Your brother stepped in and named them both.” The poor lassy said, “Oh sweet suffering Jeysus. No, no, no, not me brother. He’s a complete and utter feckwit.” Expecting the worst, she asked the Doc what her brother had called her daughter. “Denise,” said the Doc. The newly awakened mum was somewhat pleasantly surprised, thinking: ‘Wow, Denise is actually quite a pretty name.’ And she considered: ‘Perhaps I was wrong about me bro’?’ “Okay, so what’s the boy’s name?” she enquired of the Doc. The Doc smiled and said, “Denephew.”
NANNA KNOWS BEST It's like my Nanna used to say: “Shut the f *** up you annoying little twat.”
KOREAN CURRENCY A Korean man walked into a currency exchange in New York City with 200,000 Korean Won in his pocket and walked out with $200. The following week, he walked back in with another 200,000 Korean won and was handed
$185. He immediately asked the teller why he was receiving less wonga than the previous week. The teller replied, "Fluctuations." The Korean man stormed out, but just before slamming the door, turned around and shouted, "An’ fluc you Amelicans too!"
FORMER LABOUR LEADER Ed Miliband walks into a bank to cash a cheque. “Good morning,” says Ed to the teller. “Could you please cash this cheque for me?” Cashier: “It would be my pleasure, sir, but could you please show me some identification?” Miliband: “Truthfully? Don’t you know who I am? I didn’t bring any ID with me as I didn’t think there would be any need.” Cashier: “Yes sir, I know who you are, but with all of the regulations and monitoring of the banks because of impostors and forgers etc., I must insist on seeing some identification.” Miliband: “Well just ask any of the customers here who I am and they will tell you. Christ, everybody knows who I am!” Cashier: “I’m sorry, sir, but these are the bank’s rules and I must follow them to the letter.” Miliband (through gritted teeth): “I am urging you to please cash this cheque for me right now.” Cashier: “I’ll tell you what, this is what I can do. One day Colin Montgomery came into this branch without any ID. So to prove he was Colin Montgomery, he pulled out his putter and putted a golf ball along the floor and into a small cup. With that sort of skill, we knew it really was Colin Montgomery, so we cashed his cheque. On another occasion, Andy Murray came in without any ID. So he pulled out his tennis racquet and lobbed a tennis ball straight into my tea mug. It was such a spectacular shot that we all knew it had to be Andy Murray.” Ed Miliband stood there, scratching his head, thinking, before finally saying, “To be absolutely honest, there’s nothing I can do that springs to my mind.” Cashier: “Perfect, sir. Now will you be requiring large or small notes, Mr. Miliband?"
FIRST GIG Had my first gig as a stand up comedian at an old people's home the other night. They didn't seem to get any of my jokes, but they still all p ssed themselves.
*
LITTLE TOMMY The teacher says to Little Tommy, “Why weren't you at school yesterday?” Tommy says, “My grandfather got burnt.” His teacher asked, “Badly?” Little Tommy said, “Yes, badly. They don't f ck * about at the crematorium, you know.”
SCHOOL REUNION A husband accompanies his wife to her High School reunion. After meeting several of her friends and former school mates, they find themselves sitting at a table where he is yawning and seems overly bored. The band then cranks up a ratchet and people begin to gravitate towards the dancefloor to start cutting some shapes. Very soon there's a guy up on the floor proper giving it large. He’s break dancing, moon walking, not to mention chucking in a couple of back flips for good measure, as well as buying drinks for pretty much everyone. The wife turns to her husband and says, "See that guy on the dancefloor? Twenty-five years ago he proposed to me and I turned him down.” Husband says, "Looks like he's still celebrating."
All jokes published are supplied by Edge readers. Please send your ‘egg yokes’ to shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
The Edge 261_The Edge 172.qxd 28/06/2018 12:04 Page 23
1. Think ahead. Always put function first. There is no ideal shaped kitchen, whether it's a galley, U-shaped or L-shaped. Plan for the sink, fridge and hob to form a triangle, for ease of movement. 2. Make room for storage. The biggest mistake most people make at the planning stage is not including enough storage space. Try to use every nook and cranny. Consider deep drawers for easy access to pots and pans and always include enough cupboard space to avoid having items cluttering up your worktops. 3. See the light. Unlike other rooms in the house, overhead lighting can be insufficient in kitchens. To maximise your creativity, when finalising your next culinary masterpiece, you need to be able to see well. Under cabinet lighting has proved to be a firm favourite with most clients of ours. 4. Power play. Make sure you have enough appropriately placed power sources for both your large and small appliances. Also check that you have the correct gas or electric lines to power your new dream kitchen. 5. Space and surface. There's no such thing as too much counter space. Choose a surface that's easy both to work on and care for. For example, grout between tiles can be difficult to maintain and some stainless steel surfaces can scratch quite easily.
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6. Start fresh. Try not to reuse appliances from your old kitchen. It may seem like you're saving money, but in the long run, an old appliance really could stick out like a sore thumb in a plush new kitchen. Find other areas to save money on if you need to stick to a budget. 7. Safety first. Make you new kitchen safe and family-friendly. Curved cabinets, worktops and slip-resistant flooring are always good ideas. Having a high-level oven can also minimise the chances of accidental burns.
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8. Clear the air. Always buy a good quality extractor hood to help ventilate and eliminate cooking odours. 9. Trash talk. Don't forget to plan for your waste and recycling. Waste disposals can really help bring down the volume of food waste you generate, whilst including some cleverly hidden recycling bins behind cupboard doors can be very handy indeed. 10. Look out below. When it comes to flooring, consider ease of maintenance and their porosity. A porous floor (i.e. stone) sometimes needs to be regular resealed, whilst some hardwood floors can wear over time in places that have a heavy footfall. Regal Kitchens can take all of the hassle out of the design and build stage and give you the dream kitchen you have always wanted.
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The Edge replied with: Brilliant, sir, brilliant! Would you like to send me a photograph of you to accompany your email, as I think it deserves to be published in the mag? Incidentally, are you a doctor related to humankind, or perhaps some other ‘retired doctor’ such as a vet, or a Timelord, of perhaps even a Doctor of Physics?
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A young woman has claimed her ‘colossal cans’ are ruining her life and is desperate to have them removed. But Megan Smithers has been refused reduction surgery on the NHS, leaving her to Crowdfund for the £7,000 required for the procedure. The 20-year-old says her breasts have caused her considerable problems for the past 8 years - quick calculation: since she was twelve - and cause her so much pain that she cannot sleep at night, or work full-time. She said, “Having big boobs isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I need this operation for my sanity, not for my vanity.” Megan has to pay approximately £65 for her super-sized bras despite her limited income. She said, “I was shocked when I was told that I couldn’t have the operation to reduce my breasts, especially when some women get a boob enlargement on the NHS. I cried straight away when I was told that I couldn’t have the surgery because there is no way I can pay to have them reduced all by myself and I don’t know anyone who can lend me the money.” Megan added that many men talk down to her because of the size of her boobs, which makes her feel ‘cheap’.
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Hi Shaun, Having retired from work in Chelmsford 15 years ago, I still wander into the city once a month and pick up The Edge which is still as crisp, witty and colourful as it was when I was an awful lot younger. In your June issue (page 9) you mentioned the Channel 4 series 'Village of the Year' which, being a proud 'Average Edge Reader', I couldn't be arsed to watch. So, although I cannot help out with your question of "Who won the title?" I can help redirect your readers to where Pembridge is actually situated. Pembridge is, in fact, in Herefordshire, not Hertfordshire as stated in The Edge, and is thus not 'far more accessible to us Essexites' at all. Only one letter difference, yes, but it's about 200 miles away. It is a beautiful village on the Black & White Trail; cunningly named thus because many houses on the trail are - wait for it - black and white; a prime example of which is the Market Hall and New Inn in the very heart of the village. It is certainly a wonderful place to stop, stay, eat and drink after a 200-mile ramble from Chelmsford. This photograph shows the pub and the Market Hall (all, spookily, in glorious black and white). Those were the days! All the best, R PHOTO! Patrick NO ROOM FO Dr. Patrick Chaplin (aka 'Dr. Darts') www.patrickchaplin.com
Hi (again) Shaun, I'm very pleased you enjoyed my e-mail and even more chuffed that you're going to publish it. I am indeed a Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D) and was awarded my doctorate by the Anglia Ruskin University, Cambridge, in 2006. My 104,000 word dissertation was titled ‘Darts in England 1900-39 - A social history’ and was published in 2009 by Manchester University Press. It was part-time, self-funded research. ("No shit Pat! Is that right?") Absolutely. Please see my website www.patrickchaplin.com. The popular press dubbed me 'Dr. Darts' and I even appeared on Page 3 of The Sun (right next to, but not actually with, 'Zoe, 19, of London'). ("Yawn!") OK. Sorry. But I do recall years ago (2003 or 2004?) you actually published my review of Phil 'The Power' Taylor's book 'The Power' in your esteemed mag. And you told me that as you hated darts it would definitely be a one-off. As you asked me for a photograph, I've attached one of me with the late, great Eric Bristow MBE getting p ssed up at John Lowe's 60th birthday * party a good number of years ago in Chesterfield. The big bloke in the background is darts player 'Big Cliff' Lazarenko celebrating something or other (I can’t remember what). I hope the snap is OK? (If not, I'll send something more recent, but far less interesting.) Anything else you want to know, please just ask. Cheers! Editor’s Note: The Edge really does attract some cracking, cracking readers. Thank you to all those who bother to get in touch. #cheers
The late great Eric Bristow MBE with Dr. Patrick Chaplin (Ph.D) The Edge 01245 348256
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In summary, at that advanced age you are comfortable in your own skin, and it makes you happy to be so.
As you get to read this (if anyone actually does), July will already be upon us and summer in full swing. Fat, white, hairy legs will be protruding from flapping shorts and men with a body somewhat removed from Adonis-like will decide the world needs to see it anyway. So that’s something to look forward to. July is also the time when a couple of major events are due to happen. Firstly, the World Cup will have reached the knock out stages, and secondly, it is the month that our Lying Orange Monster travels from here in the US to you in the UK. We’ll get to Trump in a bit, and indeed, the World Cup might get a mention before we’re done. But first, let’s take a look at a couple of surveys that were published recently. They both covered the levels of happiness that we feel. One survey looked at how various nationalities compare. Unsurprisingly, Scandinavian countries took four of the top five spots, the other being Switzerland. The US came in 15th, and the UK 19th. Given how crap the climate is in those Scandinavian countries, what this seems to indicate is that people living in relatively stable, relatively progressive and relatively highly taxed nations are happier with their lot than those of us that are none of the above. It’s also worth noting that many at the very bottom of the happiness league table - the West Broms and Stokes of this world - are places with corrupt dictators in charge. Maybe there’s a lesson there for those in the UK and US that seem to yearn for
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
a ‘strong man’ leader, rather than a decent and thoughtful one. Just saying. The other happiness analysis focused on the age of those surveyed. The results of this one were also reasonably predictable in that teenagers hated life and things didn’t get much better through the twenties and thirties as everyone struggles with the day to day grind of young families, mortgages and career progression. As people aged though, they began to get happier. Those in their 60s and 70s were the happiest of all - or maybe a better word would be contented. And there’s the key, it seems. By the time you reach the age at which a bus pass drops through your letterbox, most people have become reconciled to who they are. There’s no need to worry about that next promotion. The neighbour’s car being newer than yours solicits a ‘so what?’ You’ve only got three bedrooms? Well, that’s more than enough for your needs. Just like you, millions of people never opened the batting for England - you can’t all be failures in life.
OK, so how does all that factor into the World Cup? Good question - here’s how. Until maybe 10 years ago there was an expectation that England was going to win every tournament they entered. But years, nay, decades, of disappointment have knocked the optimism out of even the most dedicated supporters. Now it seems the public mood is resigned to the fact that if England make it out of the group, they’ll have done OK, and anything else is a bonus. In fact, the average England supporter has, like a 70 year old, come to terms with where the team is in the great scheme of things; in truth, a mid-table mediocrity. The acceptance of this realism leads to the supporter being able to inhabit a much healthier place in his or her own head. Sadly, this recognition of England’s realistic place in the footballing world is not mirrored when it comes to global influence. One of the many drivers behind the Brexit vote was a belief that the UK is much stronger than it actually is. If only those like Rees-Mogg and Farage would acknowledge that the UK is a mid-table team these days, a great deal of the current damaging shit-show might have been avoided. Without a new manager and a couple of players it looks like a perpetual relegation struggle is in store for the next decade or two. Football analogies over, let’s get on to Trump. He’ll be visiting the UK in July and given his total contempt for anyone not named Trump and his disdain for Europe in general and the UK in particular, it is to be hoped he will receive the salute he deserves on his route through London. Bare your Buttocks for Britain, people.
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THE APPRENTICE We’ve recently been given the goahead to get some more staff onto my team at work, one of whom will be joining us to take on some of my workload, so that I can focus more on projects and hopefully stop me having to keep so many balls in the air at one time.
ME & MY adamantium skeleton
My boss asked me to do the first round of interviews, which was really quite exciting as I’ve never done that before and I was looking forward to doing my Alan Sugar bit.
Although the term wasn’t in common use until the 1950’s, this isn’t a new phenomenon and probably the most famous and egregious example was the ‘Phoebus Cartel’ who, in the 1920’s, colluded to reduce the lifetime of a lightbulb to 1,000 hours. Companies like Ford and General Motors soon followed suit by introducing yearly model changes and upgrades.
The Kingmeister reports GOING DOWN? Unfortunately, Alan, Karen and Claude weren’t there to help me out.
It was my girlfriend’s birthday a couple of weeks back and when it comes to birthdays and Christmas, we like to get each other a few little bits, but also book something to do together as well. So rather than just buying stuff, we get to do something we wouldn’t normally do and have an experience as well as presents.
I went through a whole raft of CV’s, rounded them down to a small handful, and then it was interview day. I was quite nervous, if I’m honest, but after I’d got the first one out the way I settled in and quite enjoyed the second two, particularly the last one, who we didn’t even know was coming in! I think I had a touch of what’s commonly known as ‘Impostor Syndrome’ during the interviews you know, that thing that makes us question if we’re really qualified to be doing something and makes us doubt that we actually know what we’re talking about - but as I talked to the candidates about the job and the company, I think I surprised myself with how much I actually knew.
This year we decided to go down the ArcelorMittal Orbit, or to use its other name, that giant helter-skelter thing at the Olympic Park in Stratford. If you haven’t been yet, then honestly, it’s well worth a visit. Not just for the slide itself, which is currently the longest tunnel slide in the world, but for the amazing views across London from the very top of the structure. When you arrive, you put all of your stuff inside a locker and then head straight up to the viewing deck to drink it all in and take a few snaps, before heading back down a floor to the slide itself.
After my colleague and I had finished, we made and compared notes and then met with our boss to discuss who we wanted back for round two. I honestly found this part a little bit uncomfortable as I realised I was making decisions about whether that person was going to have a job or not, but I suppose my job that day was to make sure we got someone capable of actually doing the job.
Some people might balk a little bit at paying just over £15 for a 40 second ride down a slide, but as I’ve said to a few girls over the years: “It’s a bloody good 40 seconds!”
All told, it has been a very interesting process and I’m really looking forward to those second interviews. Truth be told, I’m also looking forward to having another pair of hands around the place to help me out even more though, so fingers crossed I do know what I’m talking about and I end up picking the right person. Page 26
BUILT TO LAST I’ve been reading up on something called planned or built-in obsolescence. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, it describes something that has almost become a conspiracy theory where corporations and manufacturers purposely design their products to fail, or degrade, over X period of time, so we have to go and buy new ones.
These days, of course, it’s the technology market, particularly smartphones, that are the most obvious examples of this practice still being in use and while I’m all for pointing an accusing finger at the grossly flawed system of capitalism and nefarious corporate practices, in this case, I don’t think I can. While it’s true that certain companies do introduce operating system upgrades that render functions or sometimes entire devices obsolete and these same companies can make changing a single component as costly as buying a new model, I think the real blame lies with all of us.
When you eventually reach the front of the queue, you’re handed one of those ‘hat things’ that rugby players sometimes wear to stop their ears falling off, plus a pair of gauntlets that cover your arms from wrist to shoulder. Then you sit in a bag (I did say sit in a bag, depending on just how nervous you are), hold tightly to the strap, lay back and look at your feet before a very nice man pushes you down the slide. Apparently you reach around 15mph, but it feels an awful lot faster and the sharp bends, steep drops and pitch black sections make for an absolutely exhilarating trip down. I’m not sure it warranted the terrified screams coming from the girl immediately in front of us, but it was really, really good fun.
DRAT! She’s only just realised how much the hat is going to mess up her hair.
The consumer market likes, in fact demands, NEW & IMPROVED as often and as quickly as it can be designed, manufactured and supplied. People don’t want to keep their phones or laptops any longer than a couple of years, so why would manufacturers build anything to last? Technology, cars and to an extent even white goods are now basically part of the fashion industry. They’re no longer just functional devices but accessories and trophies to show everyone else what good taste we have and how well we’re doing. So bear this in mind next time your phone screen cracks after you drop it onto your mattress and you’re cursing about how flimsy it is and how they “ ‘don’t make ’em like they used to’. They never did, and it’s because we’ve told them we don’t want them to! The Edge 01245 348256
Friday 27th July kicks-off at 7.00pm ’til late, with The Nicola Farnon Trio, returning from 2017’s event when they played in the marquee on the green and also in the courtyard of The Rose & Crown. Nicola plays the double bass and sings - a sheer delight! The headline act on Friday is the sensational duo of Jason Rebello, former pianist for Sting for a number of years, and Jeff Beck, accompanied by saxophonist Tim Garland. Amazing! Friday night concludes with Tony Gooderham's ‘Liven Up’ session, which rounds off an outstanding evening of jazz. Choice! Saturday 28th July is from 7.00pm ’til late and will feature The Daniel Parker Trio, a regular at The Writtle Jazz Festival, The Simon Hurley Quartet, plus headline act The Fellowship at 9.00pm - exciting! There’s also Chelmsford’s very own saxophonist Zak Barrett, with Pete Riley on drums, Seth Govan on bass, John Leo Dutton on keys and, of course, Guthrie Govan on guitar - groovy, man! Sunday 29th July is from noon ’til 9.00pm with The Elliot Weight Trio, The Dan Banks Quintet, The Melvin Beddow Big Band and The Frank Weatherly Trio in Writtle Village Hall. The Rose & Crown will host Solar, followed by Miss Rosie & The Moonshine Runners. The Wheatsheaf will see the return of Dave Mascall, with Ian Thompson on sax and Julia Quinn vocals. And at around 4.00pm there’ll doubtless be a warm welcome for Joe Gibson returning to Writtle. The marquee on the village green will be open from midday with Miss Rosie & the Moonshine Runners. At 1.00pm it’s The Neil Angilly Trio, Noel McCalla and The Derek Nash band at 2.15pm, The Sarah O'Shea band at 3.30pm, The Old Jelly Rollers at 4.45pm, Sunchaser at 6.00pm, concluding with Harry Funk at 7.15pm. Sound! You can purchase ‘Early Bird’ tickets from The Rose & Crown, The Wheatsheaf, Robyn's Nest, Barnet Fayre and Writtle Library. Tickets are also available from The Civic Theatre in Chelmsford (in person) or over the phone (01245 606505) and online.
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-L F SA RIDA TU Y RD 27 AY JU 28 LY JU & LY 7P M
There’s only a few weeks to go until this year’s Writtle Jazz Festival - Nice! What’s more, you can still buy ‘Early Bird’ tickets for £15.00 for each day of this annual 3 day event, whilst ‘on the day’ ticket prices are £17.50. The line-up is also now virtually complete.
AT E
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ELLO REB N O JAS
IT WR
9P
IO N TR RNO A F A COL E NI H T •
M TONY GOODERHA TIM GARLAND •
ZAK BARR ETT & THE FELLOWSH GUTHRIE G IP WITH OVAN + M ANY MORE !
WRITTLE JAZZ FESTIVAL TICKETS & INFORMATION: CHELMSFORD CIVIC THEATRE TEL: 01245 606505 WWW.WRITTLEJAZZFESTIVAL.CO.UK TICKETS £15 EACH DAY • SPONSORED BY BERESFORDS
LOVE THIS! Bell Meadow Park, Chelmsford.
theEDGE GOLD STAR of approval AWARD
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What sort of creature got washed up on Rhossili Beach, in Gower, Wales, and completely freaked the locals out? Yes, freaked even WELSH PEOPLE out, who you’d be forgiven for thinking have pretty much seen it all? Delia Longlegs (41) found this five-foot long ‘alien like’ carcass while exercising her dog on the beach. She said: “I was going for a run with my dogs when I suddenly came across it. It looked like a well-rotted cetacean to me.� But other people have different views and think it could possibly be a crocodile. Meanwhile, marine experts are finding it very difficult to identify the animal, but have suggested it could be a type of whale, dolphin, or porpoise. Bioscience expert Dr Grant Whiteshark added: “When you look at it the first time, you immediately think it might be a crocodile, but it most certainly is not, because there is a big bulge on the base of the skull which is characteristic of a cetacean.� Dr Swansneck, of Swansea University, was also somewhat perplexed, but backed up his colleague’s theory, although also hinted that it might be a VSW (very small whale). He said: “We get a reasonable amount of whales and dolphins around these parts, oh arrrrhhhh, a lot of which are dead and decomposed in places like Pendine and Rhossili.� As far as the data in circulation about washed up carcasses goes, there does seem to be an abundance of odd dead things washed up on the shores of South Wales around June and July. “The jaw is thin in places and almost looks like it is upside down,� added Humpty Dumpty, who was also masquerading on the beach at the time. National Trust area ranger Clark Crackshot did not want to get left out, so he threw his two penneth in as well, arguing that it was “obviously an elephant� as he could definitely make out its trunk.
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Young Tommy’s not wrong there, readers. It’s a bit of a mouthful when you look at it, but all you have to do to receive The Edge direct to your computer, phone or tablet each and every month is head to this nifty little link theedgemag.co.uk/subscribe and Bob’s Tommy’s Uncle (so to speak) i.e. we’ll do the rest. So hey, what are you waiting for?
The Edge 01245 348256
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MOTCO
Man on the Clapham Omnibus WAITING ROOMS
I am writing this article not sitting in the legendary Edge writers lounge, listening to my writing music, but, and not for the first time, sitting in a waiting room listening to muzak. However, we are not talking about the large railway station type, but the more intimate, smaller doctor type affairs. I happen to spend a fair bit of my time sitting in waiting rooms, due to the realities of living with a long term serious illness. More recently, senior management at ‘Mott Towers’ (i.e. Mrs Mott) has also been attending various surgeries to deal with some of her own problems, but then we are getting on a bit these days and our waiting room time has been pretty excessive of late. What has this told us? Well, for sure, we know that no bugger is going to take responsibility for your hats, gloves and personal possessions in any way whatsoever. Of the many notices pasted upon the walls, this one always features the most prominently. It hits you full-on, just as you have had sufficient time to digest the fact that you have also parked in their car-park, entirely at your own risk. Once you have completed the internal risk assessment in your head, you then take a seat and quickly notice that everybody is surreptitiously watching each other. Everyone is aware that one of the day’s clinics is Dr. Grapes haemorrhoid surgery. Who’s attending that one, we wonder? Did he just walk in like John Wayne and sit in a chair with all the delicateness of a lace weaver? No. I disappoint all around by simply flopping into a chair which takes the full force of my posterior, although I guess I could be bluffing and crying on the inside. The list of surgeries available is printed on the wall, so everybody is sizing up all of the other attendees, wondering where they fit in. But nobody looks that ill, apart from the odd one. Personally, I look well fed, tanned and reasonably healthy, although that belies a very different story. Hmmm, who is renal, who is eyes, and which unlucky sod is proctology. That, of course, will have to wait. After all, appointments very rarely run on time. There are always an army of people looking at their phones, watching cats doing catty things, or monkeys picking their nose to pass the time. One could read a magazine. Who is it that actually buys the National Geographic? The only person I ever knew who did that was my geography teacher at school, but that was back in 1974. Of course, if you are in a quality establishment, then there may well be a
EDGE
couple of copies of The Edge on the table, but it’s far more likely to be a 2007 copy of Autocar, extolling the horrific prospect of fuel reaching 100p per litre. (It’d sure be nice to read that it’s going back to 100p per litre!) The only other alternatives are likely to be a selection of ladies magazines featuring Kerry (bloody) Katona and her latest marriage or diet hell etc., or how to get a beach/bikini body and reach your target weight in just two weeks with their latest miracle diet of eating only kelp and bird seed. Whereas we all know the only true way to achieve our target weight inside of a fortnight would be to cut ourselves in half. There will also, of course, be a picture of a woman to illustrate this, but it’s likely to be somebody who has never needed to diet in her life, or is in fact in need of going on the Motty ‘Stay Fat Diet’ in order to put on a few much needed pounds. Mrs Mott and I are fortunate, thanks to my employer, that we have the use of Chelmsford’s array of private hospitals for many things, although for myself and my long term stuff, the NHS remains king. I often wonder why these places are so expensive. Is it because of the army of people running around carrying folders? I can confirm that their primary task is to constantly check the authorisation code, given by your provider, that will ensure they get paid. I have even just sat and watched a guy turn up to repair the coffee machine and four different members of staff have appeared from behind closed doors to visit him and tell him things. The coffee machine is obviously a pretty crucial piece of equipment. Of course, there is a funny side to hospitals and treatment centres, like the sign in the gardens at a drug rehab clinic that says to ‘keep off the grass’. I always noticed one waiting room that was empty. It all became clear when I found out it was the amnesia clinic. After my last op, I said to the surgeon: “Will I be able to play the piano after this?” “Yes, of course,” he replied.” “Excellent,” said I, “because I couldn’t play it before” Yours aye,
the
VICIOUS
RUMER Rumer Cross is cursed. Scraping by working for a dingy London detective agency, she lives in the shadow of her mother, a violent criminal dubbed the ‘Witch Assassin’ whose bloodthirsty rampage terrorised the capital for over a decade. Raised by foster families who never understood her and terrified she could one day turn into her mother, Rumer has become detached and self-reliant. But when she’s targeted by a vicious mobster who believes she’s hiding an occult relic, she’s drawn into the very world she’s been fighting so hard to avoid. Hunted by assassins and haunted by her mother’s dark legacy, Rumer must also confront a terrible truth: that she is cursed, because no matter what she does, everybody she’s ever grown close to has died, and died screaming.
Baby Emily (7 months) sent in by proud Mum Amy McFendries-Taylor
Rumer is the titular protagonist. She is fascinating and complex, besides being a complete badass. Rumer is not afraid to use violence to save herself, and the fact is, she is scarily good at it. Available in all good book shops and on Amazon.
http://mybook.to/VicRumer shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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TOTALLY TRACIE AROUND & AROUND They say ‘what comes around goes around’ and this month I seem to be surrounded by reoccurring trends that should, by rights, remain dead and buried forever. But no, some of them are seemingly making a comeback. According to ‘Home Decor’, loo rugs are on their way back. Yes, loo rugs, I hear you scream. Along with leg warmers, these babies were last seen in an Argos catalogue circa 1996, yet apparently they’re back in vogue. Some of you out there may recall a few years ago I wrote a column on the perils of buying a home with a serving hatch. I mean, whatever possessed us to knock a hole in the kitchen wall and fix sliding wooden doors to it in order to serve the dinner through it, before passing all the dirty plates back through the hole? Were we all overcome with psychedelic drugs back in the 1970s? This was never going to be a good idea. So loo rugs must surely rank alongside knitted woolen toilet dollies (that disguised a toilet roll and sat on top of the cistern), yet these are apparently on the way back too. S’truth, some of us have only just perfected our open-plan living with sleek decor, only to find that we’re about to be bombarded with plastic pineapple ice-buckets and avocado bathroom suites, which are back on-trend. As too are waterbeds. Yep, sales are on the up again. I recall a very glamorous aunt of mine once purchased a waterbed, only to one day return home to her upstairs flat to find it had leaked and flooded the downstairs flat. So she ended up with a huge repair bill, not to mention an incredibly irate old lady living beneath her who called my Aunt a floozie from that day forward. A long, long time ago, before it was fashionable to hang a huge flatscreen TV to the living-room wall in order to brag to the neighbours, there used to be such a thing as the TV cupboard, which was, as it sounds, a cupboard that hid the TV, possibly purchased from a place long forgotten called MFI. Mummies and daddies would hide the TV away from potential burglars whilst everyone sat around playing Kerplunk and Ludo. No one had mobile phones to stare at all night long and families used to talk to one another - honestly, they did. Well, surprise, surprise, TV cabinets are making a comeback too. How about that? Meanwhile, there surely ought to be a
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law rushed through Parliament against artex ceilings, carpeted bathrooms, bidets and stencils on practically anything. Also anyone displaying professional family portraits of everyone jumping up in the air whilst gurning positioned just above the fireplace should be sent straight to rehab. Whilst those of you even considering giving in to the born again trend of wearing leg-warmers over your jeans should be made to dance like Leroy from Fame for a week to earn the right to wear them. So forget Brexit and all of the ‘will they, won't they’ - we should be far more concerned about all of this nonsense coming to a retail park near us soon.
TAKING THE PEE What with all the cuts to the NHS and this being axed and that being shelved, is it any wonder more and more people are turning to home cures than ever before? I’ve even been reading about ‘Urine Therapy’, because we all (surely) know about Rolf Harris drinking his first thing of a morning, don’t we? Not that it seems to have done him much good. But doctors in Saudi Arabia and scientists from the University of Shaqra claim that morning urine is rich in minerals and hormones and can calm the skin's sweat pores. The scientists recruited 20 young men (it would never work in Essex) with sweaty feet and persuaded them to wash their feet for 20/30 minutes each morning with their first pee of the day. Surprisingly only one volunteer dropped out and the other 19 reported that it had, in fact, cured their sweaty feet problem. So there you have it. No need to go to Boots or queue at your local doctors surgery. All you have to do is pee on your feet every morning and hey presto, you’ll be cured. You may not have many friends, your wife may leave you and social services may take your children, but on the upside, you won't have smelly feet anymore.
BOOT SALE I've met some wonderful Edge readers this month whilst I’ve been out and about on my travels, including Dave from Boreham Boot Sale who does a nice line in outdoor tables and garden umbrellas for just £20, I’ll have you know. Now Dave just loves The Edge and reads it every month without fail and said to me: “Oh, I never thought I’d see you here? I thought you'd be far too upmarket to attend a Boot Sale.” ! replied: “That’s just our editor who’s a bit hoi poloi.” “’Ere,” he said, “you won't give me a mention, will you?” Well, Dave, situated right beside the bouncy castle, consider yourself a little bit more famous than when last time you looked in the mirror. And if any of you are looking for a garden table or a garden umbrella, then go and see Dave and say you read all about him in The Edge!
Tracie123@aol.com
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