Tuesday, 27 November 2007

It's a 135 without the four cylinders

Listening to: The Private Psychedelic Reel (Chemical Brothers)
Eating: Late-night cheese and tomato sandwich
Drinking: Earl Grey in the vague hope it will soak up all those lagers
Surf today: 3ft, would have been in the green room if a certain fat bastard could have got his suit on
The flame still burns: Padfoot

It is the most terrifying thing a blogger can hear.

"Oh yes, I've been reading your blog."

It's somehow a nasty shock to find that real people (the kind you live next door to) are reading the nonsense you churn out during tea breaks, lunch intervals and odd post-pub hours.

This started out as a sort of diary to myself with a couple of jokes thrown in, maybe friends and relatives back in the Midlands would read it.

Reg started me off, Arabella said she liked pigs, then I'LTV shimmered in from another dimension and said something sweet, the Birdwatcher added a comment that made him feel like an old mate, then the Americans invaded, Fathorse made me feel so old and so on and so forth. . .

Somehow, I never expected anyone on the island itself to have time/energy/interest to look at it. What on Earth would interest them in the views of an idiot newcomer?

So there I was, alone in the bar with 'D' (not his real name, by the way) and he uttered those fatal words. If you want to try the accent, think Auf Wiedersehen, Pet meets Rab C Nesbitt, with a bit of No Surrender thrown in. American readers should maybe at this point go out and pour themselves a large glass of something interesting.

Anyhoo. . . I'm in the bar. . . an hour ago maybe. And I'm burbling.

"Errrrrr. . . yep, blog. . . how did you know?", while mentally backflipping through previous posts to make sure I hadn't slagged off his entire family at some stage.

"Och, I had a look after the postman told me about it."

Oh holy f**knuts! That means maybe more than one or two of the island population of 600 are tuned into The Edge of Nowhere - CRAP! the title itself is a bit insulting. The Hub of the Universe - how's that for a new title? Edge of Nowhere? It's not even bloody original. Aw Jeez!

As it happened 'D' (one of the island's bigger farmers) seemed to reckon it was quite amusing and we settled down for a lengthy chat about townies moving to small islands, pigs, sheep and cattle.

The appearance of 'B' - my nearest neighbour - brought another round of drinks (whisky and water for myself), but some serious confusion for the trainee pig farmer. Conversation moved on to tractors and, frankly, they might as well have been speaking Bulgarian. I tried hard to look as if I understood, but nobody seemed to mind when I drifted back to the Independent sports pages.

I will pass this item on to you, however: always avoid the four cylinder Massey 135, the chrome plates are too thin. Go for the three-cylinder version instead. So now you know.


fiwa said...

I'm still chuckling. It IS weird to find that someone you know is reading your blog.

You can blame me on Birdwatcher, he has good taste in blogs and I often steal his links. ;)

Dave said...

I shall store this page carefully, in case I ever throw it all in and buy a smallholding.

Malc said...


I blame Birdwatcher for most things nowadays, especially the weather.


That's right, never throw anything away, you never know when you'll need it.

Arabella said...

Oh my! Hello neighbours!

Cherrypie said...

I always like three cylinders in my Massey. I do, however, prefer the Fordson Major for aesthetics.

ziggi said...

they're all John Deere round these parts - I have no idea on cylinder quantities or size either but they have bloody big wheels at the back.

Malc said...


Hello, I trust you thanksgived like a good 'un.


Blimey!!! Were you there? That's exactly what they said - really!!


Green is so last year, don't you think?

fathorse said...

THE POSTMAN? That gave me a giggle.

I only tell real people I know about my blog if I feel they are as pretentious and bored as I am. I don't think any of my other friends would understand the point of it...

Also, they tend to be people I don't often see.

cunning you see

(btw - I feel old, so you must feel ANCIENT :P)

Malc said...


He always rings twice. . . or so I'm told - or is it knocks?. Actually, like everyone here, he's a thoroughly nice person. I can't get over how friendly everyone is here.

And, one for the 40-plus footy fans, former Leeds goalkeeper David Harvey is postman on Sanday, the next island but one.

Betty said...

At the weekend I got an e-mail from someone I knew at school.

That someone was a lad I had a crush on when I was six. A couple of years ago I mentioned this fact, and his name. At that point I'd rather naively thought that people didn't Google their names. I'd forgotten about the post.

"I didn't know I was your first love", he said in the e-mail.

NOTHING could be more embarrassing now.

Malc said...


Hiya. That'll teach you to expose your torrid love life to the cyber-public.

It has, in all seriousness, given me a wake-up call. This isn't just a little private party and I should, as a former journalist, have thought about that.

Amy said...

I can almost imagine your startled countenance :-)

I think I stumbled on to you via Fiwa.

Z said...

I decided a long time ago never to be unkind about anyone. I'd be too easy to identify if anyone local chanced upon my blog.

Frith said...

Hi Malc,
It does seem unfair that the past is no longer gone and done, but I'm glad that's the case. Google got me to your blog, after all. When I had my design business, my Google ranking was a daily concern. It's been nice to toss on the invisibility cloak and slip back into the gloom since closing my business. Depends on your personality, no?
Do you get other comments on three year old posts? I have been re-reading the blog again, from the beginning, because it's the best escape I can imagine from the very wet, cold world that Seattle is lately - reading about your travails in a wetter, colder world. Doesn't hurt that I laugh out loud at least once in every post. Hope you post for a long time to come.