You know you're getting old when the commentators in the Sunday magazines are people you've never heard of before, and you notice the comments are becoming more trivial and lacking in depth, whether emotional, political or intellectual. You simply don't care about their vacuous opinions on Eastenders plots, fashion or celebrities.
The Chairman and Hay are driving to Bath along Lansdowne Road.
Chairman: "Ah, the Blaythwaite Arms - Blaythwaite is a Yorkshire name - you can tell by the Thwaite bit."
Hay: "What's a Thwaite then? Obviously something to do with black pudding racing, clog breeding or whippet manufacturing?"
2 comments:
Thwaite hast nowt to do with black puddins or clog dancing etc. Hast more to do with a piece of land cleared from forest or reclaimed from wasteland; so my Missus says and her knows you know.
Shades of the immortal Hylda!
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