I did get a gut buster of a joke from Ken's 2017 Joke Book, when we paid him a visit yesterday, though.
Quasimodo, the hunch back of Notre Dame, gets home at 6pm after a long, long day bell ringing.
He notices Mrs. Quasimodo in the kitchen with a Wok.
"Ah! he exclaims, Chinese for tea - my favourite meal"
"No" says Mrs Quasimodo "I was just going to iron your shirt!"
Thanks for looking in on my blog in 2017.
Best wishes for 2018, where I aim to surpass the dizzy heights attained by the blog this year.
That won't be too difficult I hear you say.
Oh ... and the quiz answers:-
I had a chance meeting with Mr. Aven on Soil Hill.
The chap, he a Santa fan, went on and on.
He had a much calmer lingo than I have, I must say.
He was getting old he said with death rushing towards him.
He told me of his past, fishing, 'pull in net sharply' his dad said.
He lived in rented accommodation and saw rent increases as inevitable.
As we spoke a bird landed in a field, far east ways it, left with turns to NE.
He mentioned camping, one night in gales blowing, he recalled he'd had a real throb in the toe from walking that day.
He'd stolen apples, reds, tart and horrid.
How he ate a rhubarb, red, yuk.
He took a liking to my black cap that I covered my camera with in the wet.
Once on the moors, from a valley, he'd seen the fire
crest a hill.
He was near Stood Fold one day and saw a man mending a car, it had a loose nut , hatchback wobble, and a flat tyre. He'd made a huge yell "ow - hammer's hit me finger" and some swear words then his wife appeared and a terrific row, at Brook House Farm ensued.
He had lived on Blake St. Relatively close to all amenities and really enjoyed it there.
"That's a gosh" - awkward - had to say something at this point..yawn!
His wife loved shopping, Annette, was her name.
They'd had a beautiful marriage he recalled.
His daughters and Martin his son were coming home for Xmas.
She was off shopping, it's now bun tin getting , time of the year she said.
He was working on the garden weeds and had part rid generous sections of them.
He said his daft mate ,Curly Bill, had got upset by "a curl 'e wasn't 'appy about" silly sod.
Don't get cross Bill I'd said.
He'd bumped into a prat in Coley and after an argument he'd headed off seeing the plump tar M1 gang working hard.
He was off to the bar now looking forward to a beer and perhaps a puff in the smokers hut later on with his smokes and RAT (subtle little pet of his) not.
There should be at least 36 bird species hereabouts with one appearing flying backwards.
16. Yellow Hammer
25. Sand Martin
26. Snow Bunting
32. Barn Owl
34. Bustard - spelt backwards