“Money’s round for going around.”
Guru Ken
One more game to go and then it’s hometime for Tuna Man back to a place described in one article I found as “the world’s most dangerous city”. Have they never been to Bradford?
The last few weeks have seem him preparing well for the South African season by sleeping fourteen hours a day and only coming out of his room for food.
I wondered whether last year’s Aussie really had kept a few local barmaids in the wardrobe for a rainy day.
So it was no surprise when he confessed, in one of his rare waking moments, to a weight problem whilst tucking in with relish to the free Sunday supper at The Scruffy.
“I’ve put on 2kgs!” he said “my Dad will kill me!”
Apparently, if Rudi were to by chance read this blog and discover his son’s physical collapse the punishment would be severe.
“Yah he will drop me in downtown Jo’burg with my running shoes and a thousand rand note pinned to my arse!” said Tuna Man not yet about to give up on the sausage rolls and mini-kievs; Rudi could wait a week longer.
Sadly I have to report that his summer in England has resulted in an addiction issue too, one that will have to be cured only when he lands back in Zuma Land.
As the nights have closed in and the autumn rains reduced us to the delights of the local news channels, Tuna Man has fallen in love.
He sits there open mouthed at our weather girl turned presenter as she sits on the sofa – sadly not mine – to relay the news of the day. As soon as 7pm arrives he disappears to his room only to emerge tired looking and disconsolate for yet more Muller Rice.
And so goes another cricket season with a mass dispersal of individuals best suited to some form of care in the community, let loose now for at least seven months to all manner of temptations.
Despite the obvious need for some form of radical surgery to a game that has been struggling for mass appeal for many years now we confidently expect local and national administrators to contentedly stick their old heads in a pile of wet sand again for the winter.
It was ever thus.
A New Dawn
After almost seven years of Thursday morning Pensioners’ Pilates with the Iron Lady, we feared the worst as she recently announced that the class would be ending unless we could switch to a Monday morning for weekly torture.
There were tears all round as little old ladies wondered who would tend their six-packs if Mondays proved unpopular and hard to get up for after a weekend on the lash at bingo.
Fear not as the first Monday session saw a procession of the faithful flocking to another hour of crap music and bingo-wing toning.
Only 97 year-old Anna was missing having been running the Great North Run the day before and rumoured to be still some way off the finishing line, determined to get the free t-shirt, heart attack or not.
There was even new blood – so to speak – and the floor was jam packed with wriggling old biddies, the scent of Avon blown freely by the air-con.
Typically we were “treated” to a five minute plank and as my body convulsed I swore I would never again stay for an extra beer on a Sunday fearing being the first to ever puke in a Pilates class.
As much as we all struggle with change, this is a good one and a fast start to the executive week.
One Hundred Years Ago
Can history repeat itself one hundred years on? In 1917 Saltaire won the Bradford League for the first time and tomorrow, in their first season in the Aire Wharfe, can they secure the Division 3 title?
With Villas playing top of the league Chequebook CC all is up for grabs.
Giz A Job!
There were two stories that appeared in last week’s local rag with a day between them that suggested all was still not quite rosy in Hapless Hinchcliffe’s haven.
News came that 2,000 HMRC jobs will be leaving the area for Leeds during the next few years making a mockery of the Leeds City Region initiative Hapless trumpets and that Bradford is supposed to be a key partner.
The day after came a report that suggested Bradford needs to create another 22,000 jobs simply to keep pace with the national economy. Presumably we need to add another 2,000 to that total?
The HMRC decision had been know for some time so the wailing from local and national politicians seemed a bit late in the day. That Bradford cannot keep the kind of public sector jobs which prop up many a Northern town says a lot about our attractiveness.
As ever where bad news is concerned and no photo shoot available, Hapless was invisible and so we had her pet poodle Cllr Are You Sure trotting out the following drivel.
“We’ll continue to build on our strengths, working with the public and voluntary sector to create the right conditions for growth, and support businesses wanting to invest and expand in the district.”
Translation – more charity shops.
“We’re part of the Leeds City Region which has been a massive asset for Bradford in campaigning for more funding to improve transport infrastructure, Wi-Fi connections and excellent apprenticeship schemes which all combine to make this a great city to grow a business.”
Translation – please will somebody come here?
Tell that to the 2,000 people soon to be on the train to Leeds.
A Woman’s Best Place
I wonder what Hapless makes of the findings of a recent survey on the best place for women to live in the UK – see here.
Apparently East Dunbartonshire wins this accolade and, given that it is over 200 miles away from Bradford, if they are looking for a new Council leader I will personally pay for the one-way ticket.
Bradford ranks 338 out of 380 places, driven largely by the affordability of housing. Predictably, other rankings performing much worse are life expectancy, education and safety.
Hapless indeed.
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