This week, the reader Pauline Gaskin has been in touch, and sent the following – which she calls the PollyWobbles Column.
Go on ... well I’ve always fancied ... you know ... having a go. Get stuck in then ... gawn mix it up ... have a go. All right, I will. Here goes. Somebody mentioned ‘trolls’. No, not going there. Strictly ‘old school’. Newsprint on the fingertips. Vintage, retro; ‘hard-copy’ as opposed to? Fizzing over the interwebby, wi-fi thingy, although it’ll be all over that as well. The diggy-bloggy-spherey thing. Phew!
I still like my hard copy, though. I buy mine with those vouchers, and yes, it does work out cheaper. I can save the odd pennies and buy a Mars Bar ... a WHOLE Mars bar with the overs. Not that I should because I’ve got to do what Colin’s trying to do ... lose weight ... get fit ... phew, age and all that catching up.
This week shout-out for: the Catchbox Coop, just launched, brilliant. Can I just do a small ask; that our wonderful local restaurants, cafe’s, hotels, food providers of all shapes and sizes get on board. It’s a win-win, it really is. They get to big-up super, fresh locally-sourced produce in their menus and support local, sustainable employment. It’s all there, right on our doorsteps, it’s ours and it needs our support.
Going back to the trolly wobbles thing. Oh, see what I did just there; I headed this column Polly Wobbles and it’s just become trolly wobbles. But I like that. Trolly (as in supermarket) wheels stick, leading to wobbles. And trolls, as in interwebby thingy. Hateful outpourings of well, hateful, hurtful things. A la young lady over in Kent, Paris something, who was going to do great things for improving relations between the police and young people of that parish. Well, she possibly still could, perhaps when she’s ummm matured a little and thought about her communicating event before she presses ‘send’. That’s what it needs ... thought ... now that we’re all in the digital, bloggy, doggysphere thingy.
In any case ‘trolls’ to me mean small plastic models with scrunched-up, cute faces (bit like mine – whoops giving too much away there!) that (in the smallest version) got shoved on the top of pencils and waved around in double maths. Ohhh, the halcyon days.
Keeping it local, where do you think all those houses that need to be built should go? If you live, work, have families here, it does affect you. Maybe a chat, over a cuppa with friends, neighbours, family over in the park with the sunlight falling discussing it.
Now that Newbs is gone ... well not ‘gone’, just concentrating on family. Sensible man. Could have got lured away. Said no, I like it ‘here’. I really like it here. It’s a bit special this place, and it is. I got lured away, came back, and ‘here’ I stay. Liked what he said about the tools of the job, though. Words, like bricks to a brickie, or wood to a carpenter. Tools, to get a job done. Disagreed about the vocation bit, though. Working with words is always a vocation; well, it is to me.