by
Frank Hatton

Those of you good folk who avidly read this column, and eagerly await the next issue, (this bit is to cheer myself up), will no doubt recall that on the completion of last month's article, I promised to be more cheerful on this one. I do however feel completely justified in my despondency last month. After all, when somebody knocks down your local pub, and leaves you facing a mile or so of walking to the nearest watering hole, I would suggest that it is not conducive to raising a smiling countenance. Nevertheless, a promise is a promise, so.......

Among the many strange traditions prevalent in this country, are jokes about mother-in-laws. Now why these dear souls should be singled out for ridicule, I do not know, but nevertheless, the situation has existed for as far back as I can remember. Typical of these jokes are; "I haven't spoken to my mother-in-law in three years,... I didn't like to interrupt." "We keep a photo of the mother-in-law on the mantelpiece, ... it keeps the kids away from the fire." "My mother-in-law makes wonderful yoghurt,.... she just takes a bottle of milk, and stares at it." There are of course, many, many, more but, the above will suffice for the purpose of this column, and that is to report a policy change by our major holiday camp group. They have decided that in future, their resident comedians will not be permitted to tell jokes about mother- in-laws.

Of course, there may be a relatively simple explanation for this decision,... like maybe a group of rich mother-in-laws have banded together to buy out the holiday group concerned, and have devised this method of getting their revenge on the comedians. However, I suspect that a far deeper and sinister motive is behind the action, I feel it is all part of the ongoing policy to change everything that is changeable in this fair country of ours. As I have reported over the last few months, our traditional foods have almost gone,.... they have changed our currency beyond recognition,..... our weights and measures have been redesigned to create the maximum confusion, most of our laws are now subject to the approval of the hierarchy of the European Union, and, I sometimes fear that the next major step will be to completely prohibit the speaking of the English language, and force us all to learn German, French, or maybe even Esperanto. All of you good folk in the USA, are the last bastion of the imperial measurements, and you may eventually become the sole guardians of our common language..... Gird your loins, and prepare for battle...... They are coming to get you!!!!! Now, for the benefit of those few among you, who are still not familiar with the quirky British sense of humour, I hasten to add that in spite of all the changes which have been thrust upon us, we have never had it so good. Our lifestyle is way ahead of what it was in my younger years,.... for instance, to own your house was a rarity, and was the right of a very small, privileged section of our society. To have the material things which we now take for granted, like a fridge, a car, a telephone, going out to a restaurant to eat, and many other things which are now commonplace, was unheard of. Sure, there are lots of faults which can be found with modern living, and, ....is it a coincidence,..... the older you get, the easier it is to find these faults. Soooo, if we are looking at the good bits, and the bad bits, my feel is, that we have far more good bits, than we have bad bits, and, while I know I have said it before, I make no excuses for saying it again. The natural evolution of younger folk constantly wanting to change the things that we older folk felt to be sacrosanct, does nothing but good in the longer term.

OK, it's mental somersault time,....... I suppose the situation I now turn to, is known by different expressions around the world, but, it is nevertheless the same problem. We in Britain call it 'Murphy's Law', ... example, "any small object when dropped will hide under a larger object." Or, it is also known as 'Sod's Law' by some folk of a more basic nature. Let me give you my experience of what it is about. This morning I was cutting the grass!! What again? I hear you gasp,... but, yes,..... it is still only March 12th, and this is the second cut, you will maybe recall the first one was on 22nd February,... all of which is secondary to the point I wish to make. Now,.... on my mowing machine, I have a grass box, which collects the grass cuttings, and, because my wife claims that she cannot keep up with the amount of compost I produce from my grass cuttings, I now have had to resort to putting the cuttings into a black plastic sack, and transporting them to the local rubbish dump. Right, now here is the situation,.... I place the empty plastic sack on the ground, and there it lies, inert, harmless, lifeless, not a sign of any activity whatsoever. Now comes the time to empty the grass box, and transfer the cuttings from the box to the plastic sack. Soooo, I ensure the mouth of the sack is lying open,.... albeit limp and inanimate. Then, just as I attempt to empty the grass cuttings into the sack,... the sack immediately folds over the edge of the open mouth, thus ensuring the cuttings fall all over the ground. This is the first indication that Murphy's Law is beginning to operate!!! At this stage, I am still feeling relatively optimistic, and I next ensure that I place the mouth of the open black sack completely over the open end of the grass box, .... now, to my simple mind, there is no way that the grass can go anywhere but into the sack. Little do I know, but Murphy is only just starting to enjoy the game!!! My next problem is that the grass box does not get any lighter in weight, thus indicating that the grass is not falling from the box into the sack. Soooo, logic tells me that the grass is somehow jammed up within the box, and the next sensible thing to do, is to pull the box back out of the sack, and endeavour to unjam the grass. However, as soon as I do this, and before I can touch it, Mr Murphy allows the grass to become free, and it again empties out all over the ground. The still empty sack just lies there grinning at me. I will not bore you with the other quite logical ways in which I tried to overcome Mr Murphy's determination to win, but, I finally conquer the frustration by making up a wire loop which will hold the sack mouth open, while I successfully tip in the grass. Even as I do this, I still feel like the loser in the contest, and could swear I heard Mr Murphy chuckling softly in the background.

I like to feel that this brand new world of the internet, and the way in which we now freely communicate with each other, has vastly improved our understanding of the way in which each of us live and think..... No longer do we rely upon Hollywood films, and American magazines to guide our thoughts on what makes our friends over the pond tick. You likewise, will not now regard the whole of this island as being enveloped in a thick, dense fog, populated by folk who constantly go around saying, "What ho my dear chappie", or, "Jolly good show, what?" However, one of the problems we are still stuck with, is the business of pronunciation!!!!! A little story I heard recently will hopefully show you what I mean. A British citizen was visiting the USA for the first time, and, when he got to the Immigration Officer, he was asked the usual number of questions. One of these questions was on his occupation, and in response to what he did for a living, he answered truthfully that he was a 'clerk'. OK, nothing wrong so far you think,.... but, we over here pronounce the word like 'Clark', ... as in Clark Kent----Superman!! The US guy after getting the British guy to repeat the word, said,.. " Waddya mean, .. you go 'tick tock, tick tock'?.

Now, finally, can I once more thank the good folk who take the time and trouble to write a short note on their appreciation of this little column...... From my end, I type out a number of words onto the word proccessor, and send them winging off into space. I like to think that they eventually land somewhere, and somebody reads them. So when I get these noises of encouragement, it does much to oil the cogs of my mental processes, and make the exercise worthwhile.

'til next time,
Frank Hatton

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You can find more articles in the archive under From Over the Pond