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Do You Know Your Garden?

Posted on August 23, 2011

When I moved to my house in late September 2009 (oh what a night....) it featured a back garden that looked like something that had just won the Britain in Bloom award. It was full of colour and life, basking in the Autumn sunshine courtesy of all the hard work carried out by the 78 year old woman I was buying the house from. It was quite apparent that this women's expertise extended from disguising a leaking bathroom and a malfuncti...

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Working From Home

Posted on August 18, 2011

After fifteen years of working at home, it is now official, I have had enough of it, it bores me to death for two to three of the days that I am either, sat in front of the computer looking out on lead grey skies, pursuing with my quest to finally not look stupid at the Sainsburys self checkout, or going for a lunch time work out at a gymnasium full of bored menopausal women who are striving for nothing more than middle class status or a ...

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Same Sport, Two Very Different Days!

Posted on August 15, 2011

I am walking around my house today totally rigid after two days of playing cricket to a piss poor standard. If you are alone and not in a position where a colleague might call in the men in white coats, try to tense up every muscle in your body and then try to walk. That is how I feel, my muscles in my calf’s, hamstrings, achilles, arms, stomach, groins, lower back, upper back, buttocks and neck have all ceased up. I feel like I need pumping ...

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Who Owns Britain?

Posted on August 11, 2011

Ever since I played cricket at Farleigh House near Basingstoke earlier this summer, I have been intrigued by who owns these great swathes of this green and pleasant land. I have also been quite staggered by some of the research I have carried out on the Internet which indicates the potential invasion of Russian Oligarchs/Gangsters on to land such as the 10,000 acre Crichel Estate in Dorset that has recently entered the market at a cool £100m. I ...

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London’s Burning

Posted on August 9, 2011

Just a few days after my relaxed holiday I am sat stunned in front of the TV watching fires, lootings, petrol bombs and riot police in my capital city just fifty odd miles away from the safety of Hampshire. The vitriol and hatred I have witnessed on social media sites is almost as disturbing as the violence itself, with Facebook updates demanding the yobs to be locked up forever, shot, sent to Afghanistan, or even set on fire. When you see ...

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