Woolies Window

Here in Barrow we had an old saying, usually said by folks who earnestly believed that they were in the right. The saying went "if that's true I'll show my arse in Woolworths window" or "if I don't keep my promise I'll show my bum in Woolworths window."
Well I guess that now that Our 99 year old Woolworth store on the Main Shopping street is finally closing it's doors (and windows) for good, folks are having to rush in there to fulfill their promise. Look closely at the photo of the storefront!

Seasons Greetings

Hi Folks! Sorry to have been neglecting you for such a long while but I have been busy with other things. I seem to have hoodwinked myself into the management side of the taxi business and boy does it keep me busy! I have been spending less time out on the streets and as a result don't get to spend as much time gathering tales about our wonderful local characters. Bill another local cab-driver sent me this photo of "our Molly" who is without doubt the favorite fare of every local taxi driver. It seems that Molly is also a bit special to the many local town centre shopkeepers and market stallholders that she visits every day. They treat her like royalty and even took the time to decorate her much needed walking frame with sparkling Christmas decorations. If you look closely at the photo you may just notice that the twinkle in our Molly s eyes outshines the brightest tinsel. Things should quieten down in January and so I hope to be posting a bit more often then. Meanwhile compliments of the season and best wishes to everyone, and for those of you that have sent comments asking after me, sorry for not getting back sooner and thanks for the concern.
Cheers folks!

Cheeky Muppet

Some sneaky varmint in Germany is driving a car built for UK roads and has installed a Muppet in the passenger seat. The speed cameras in Germany are made to take photos of drivers who sit in the left side of the vehicle, so drivers of UK cars which are right hand drive can't be easily identified. A German police source said: “The number plate is not enough. We need clear evidence of who is driving the vehicle too."
“But because this is a British vehicle we can never get a decent picture. The driver has obviously worked this out because he has placed a large puppet in the passenger seat.“This may be an example of the famous British sense of humour but it is still dangerous driving. The driver has been caught on camera on several occasions and the puppet is on the passenger seat every time. We suspect he positions the toy deliberately before accelerating past the camera.”

Die Hard

Sometimes when you get a funny noise coming from under the car its best just to ignore it and it will go away. But then again sometimes it won't eh?

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

X-FACTOR

Lately Saturday nights have been turning out to be a little bit on the quiet side, so what’s going on? Is it the so called credit crunch or even as some believe the start of a full blown recession. Well I don't think so myself I put the blame fairly and squarely on ITV. They are stealing the peak Saturday night trade away from the pubs and clubs and more importantly from the taxi trade. Saturday night from 8pm until 11pm is dominated by that popular cult TV show the X-Factor. Why I don't know because I don't watch it, but on Saturday night it dominated the conversation of the fares I picked up, some of whom were actually going to X-Factor parties. What that involves, I don't have a clue but it sure seems popular. Even worse news was told to me by one fan that was dashing between two x-factor parties; apparently the series lasts right up until near Christmas. Why can't these TV companies be made to show this stuff during the week instead of wrecking the whole country’s night time economy?

One interesting snippet that I did get told on Saturday night from a reliable source fascinated me no end. The new club which is due to open shortly, CLUB-M has been fitted with a new entrance solely for the use of the local emergency services. This I am told is so paramedics can attend to injured or ill folk and cops can remove troublemakers all without going through the crowded club. But the best bit is that the club has actually got its own padded cells to detain folk and prevent them from injuring themselves or others. The polite name they tell me is the detention or holding area. But a cell is a cell to me and I wonder is it legal, can they actually detain someone against their will? Would it not be false imprisonment, is it a step too far?

Lost Doggy

A rather mysterious large bulky brown envelope arrived at out taxi office this week. At first we were a bit nervous about opening it because of the strange shape that could be felt inside. When we finally decided that it probably wasn't a bomb our brave boss felt inside the package. He went a shade paler when he felt something slightly furry. But taking a deep breath he fearlessly hauled the unknown beast out of it's hiding place and we were confronted with a small version of the nodding dog mascot which you see on some folks car parcel shelves. Attached was a handwritten note which reads "This belongs to one of your drivers. Sorry!" So far he or she hasn't been claimed by any of our drivers and rumours are rife about the adventures of the lost doggy. Has a dog napping taken place, and the villain had a twinge of conscience? Has someone picked up the wrong dog by mistake or maybe a child took a fancy to our driver’s lucky mascot. The lost doggy is being held to ransom by the boss until the £1:50p shortfall that wasn't paid on the postage is handed over.

WWW,,,,what?

This one although American is just as relevant over here at the moment.

Hide and Seek.

It was a miserable midweek rainy grey late afternoon, just the sort of day when I gaze at the empty streets and speculate to myself, just where folks disappear to and just what do they get up to.

 One of the answers was revealed when I collected a flustered lady who was in a big hurry. "Where does time go" she asked "I should have been home an hour ago for the kids coming home from school." "Did you get talking?" I asked in all innocence and when she hesitated to answer I glanced in the mirror to see that she had gone a shade of beetroot red. "I was visiting my boyfriend and when I went to leave I couldn't find my jumper, I’ve only got my bra on underneath this coat." she blurted out, and then realised what she had just said. Her hand flew to her mouth and she went an even deeper shade of red. "Oh my gawd" she shrieked "you'll know what I've been doing now won't you?" Being a sophisticated man of the world I had to admit that I had a fair idea just what she had been up to. “So you lost then?” I asked, but she just looked at me blankly and going even redder replied “lost what?” “You can’t fool me” I replied “I know what you have been playing at.” The steam started to rise from her overheated face and her mouth moved but no sound come out. After leaving her to stew for a minute or two I said “Aye you’ve been playing hide and seeks with your jumper and you’re embarrassed cos you lost.”

Soap Opera

Now and again one of my fares will ask me if I had watched a reality TV show or one of the soap operas the previous night. Nine times out of ten I answer "no I don't watch much telly" and the fare will look at me as if I must be criminally insane or live in some strange other universe. But the plain and simple truth is that I just don't need to watch reality TV, reality plays out each and every day on the back seats of my cab. All the real life drama, comedy and tragedy you could dream of are unveiled by passengers telling me of their sometimes chaotic lives.

 The big difference being that instead of some attention seeking, money grabbing wannabe my reality show stars are real genuine local folks. And as for soaps, well some folks will give me the latest episode of their storyline each time I pick them up, sometimes the plot will be a bit dull but with others I just can’t wait for the next thrilling installment.

Take Saturday night for instance, a five mile trip turned into a whole series of roller coaster emotions, all played out on my all knowing back seat.

 I took no part in the performance; all the scenes starred just the one young starlet and her mobile phone. The first call she received seemed normal enough at first but soon degenerated into a full blown row with what I assumed was her partner. The accusations flew back and forth and voices were raised to a shout for a few minutes and then the phone was obviously slammed down on her. She looked at the phone for a minute obviously frustrated that she couldn't finish the verbal fight and then tried redial a few times. When she got no reply she let out a piercing frustrated scream and then burst into floods of tears. After a while the phone rang and she snatched it to her ear expectantly, but no it wasn't the kiss and make up call she was expecting but someone threatening her with violence in retaliation for some punch-up that she had been involved with the previous night. She seemed frightened and pleaded with the caller that wasn't her fault and that she didn't start it, and that she “didn't want no trouble.” After she had soft soaped her way out of a bashing she hung up only for the phone to ring yet again with another caller. This time it was my fare that was straight on the attack loudly accusing the caller of “grassing her up for doin that tart over” and threatening to “kick her head in.” After delivering a filthy tirade of swearing and abuse it was my fares turn to slam the phone down.

 We reached her destination and it was time for the closing credits, but the phone rang yet again and I couldn't help but notice that she smiled in anticipation of the next thrilling episode.

Why Me?

I’m beginning to wonder if it's just me, or is it some sort of conspiracy that I end up with the strangest jobs. Today for example I was asked to do a cigarette run, which in itself isn't all that unusual, quite a few housebound nicotine addicts ask us to buy fags for them and then deliver them. 

But when I arrived at the house which had asked for ten coffin nails today I was greeted by a woman waving a bunch of keys out of the open window. I was thrown the keys and asked to let myself in, which I did. The ould lass grabbed her precious cancer causers and started to rip into the packaging seeming to forget that I was there. It was only after she had lit one and greedily puffed one or two deep drags of nicotine that she remembered why I was there. Whilst blowing clouds of noxious smoke toward me she announced "I ain't got any money you'll have to come back in the morning." "Great I thought robbed again” as you might guess I don't smoke, so nine fags weren't a lot of use to me, so I put it down to yet another bad experience and left. Nobody was more surprised than me when she rang the office next day and asked me to go over to be paid for the fags and fare. But when I got there and again was passed the keys out the window, as I suspected, there was a catch. She handed me a £20 note and asked me to visit the local grog shop and get her some booze. I felt like some kind of secret alcoholic as I walked out of the shop at 11 am with three cans of the strongest cheapest lager known to man.

 But the surprises didn't end there; when I handed over the loony-juice to the cantankerous granny she actually paid me in full and added a generous tip.

Hard Life

For the last week or so I have been doing an occasional job transporting Russian sailors to and from the airport.

 The lucky ones were going home on leave from coasters carrying cargo into Barrow docks. Most are nice enough guys, but only speak as much English as I do Russian, and so the conversation is a bit limited. The one universally known word among them is "smoke," I have never known a Russian who doesn't smoke and so when I turn into the first service station on route and say the magic word it always brings on a big smile and" OK da." The replacement sailors I take to join the ships always look a bit glum and when I picked up one who spoke a fair bit of English, I learnt why.

I like a lot of folk had the false notion that these seafarers had the life of riley, seeing the world and meeting a new girl in every port. But no apparently I couldn't have been more wrong, he told me that most sign up for a six month contract and when they join the rest of the small crew on the vessel, that's it for the full six months they just never leave the ship. All of these vessels are registered under flags of convenience and so the minimum wage and health and safety rules just don't apply to these poor guys.

Since it is the first time inland in the UK for most of them I like to try and show them round our area if I get the chance. As well as many other local delights they get pointed out Dalton Wildlife Park and our spectacular Furness Abbey.

When I explained to the Russian sailor who spoke some English that the huge DDH shed was where nuclear submarines were built he pointed out that a few years back I would have been called a traitor and he would have been jailed as a spy.

On Friday night the Russian I collected from his ship was happy be going home but as it was 1: am and pitch black I wasn't able to point out our local landmarks. But as compensation I decided to drive him out of town by going past our local nightclubs and bars. As soon as we turned towards Barrow’s infamous Caza strip his mouth dropped open in amazement as he was confronted with the sight of hundreds of scantily clad young lasses. Two or three were lying on the pavement, legs akimbo and a few were happily vomiting the night away.

 A bit further up the street police struggled to break up a fight and the back doors of the police van were flung open ready to transport that nights bed and breakfast guests.

The sailor could speak a little English and he asked if Barrow was a big city and what was the population. When I told him “maybe sixty thousand” he laughed and replied “da and maybe ten thousand drunks, yes”

Sock it to em.

The town council in nearby holiday town Blackpool hired contractors to repaint the railings over the North Promenade -- but when the contractors reached a dirty old sock tied to the railing, they simply painted it. Contractors sprucing up North Promenade took the astonishing short cut when they came across the abandoned sock tied to a railing.

Passerby Andrew Purcell, 22, from Leyland who is working in the area, said: "I think painting round a sock instead of just removing it could quite possibly be the laziest thing I've ever seen.

"It does look quite funny tied there, but I suppose it must be annoying for the council if they are trying to improve the look of Blackpool."

Yaeh sock it to em Blackpool!

How Very True

How true to life is this cartoon Eh?

Click to enlarge.

Parting Gift

Sunday morning and my disheveled looking fare come out of a town centre house with a smirk on his face. "Heck she was ugly, but I was drunk" he said as he checked himself out in the mirror. "Well I guess that we all make mistakes" I replied. "Yes but she was lucky to get me, I bet I'm the best looking guy she has ever had" he crowed.

 He was going the few miles to neighboring Askam and by the time we had got a mile up the road I was beginning to tire of his constant put down of his last nights conquest and his over the top conceit. As we passed Furness General Hospital a truly evil plan entered my head. Scratching my head and looking deep in thought I muttered "I know that house I picked you up from, I've picked up there a few times." He paused from studying his reflection and slowly took the bait "Oh yes where did you take her then" he asked trying not to appear too interested. I rubbed my chin as if deep in thought and after a long pause announced "That's it! I know she went to the Birchwood clinic"

 We drove on in silence for a mile or two as he thought about it and then he asked "so where is the Birchwood clinic then." "It's in the hospital grounds" I told him and then put on my best worried looking expression. It was just before we pulled up outside his house that he finally found the courage to croakily ask “what do they do at the Birchwood clinic then?"

 I paused for effect and then solemnly told him "it's the new sexual health clinic" and then slyly watched as he thought about it and then slowly made the implied connection. He left the cab looking deep in thought, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets as if checking on something.

The Closet Chav

Saturday night was a full moon which brought all the usual strange characters out in abundance one job consisted of two young couples off out for a nights moon bathing in the town. On the way into town they stopped at a supermarket cash machine to top up with money for the no doubt expensive night ahead. As the two lads waited in the queue for the busy cash dispenser the two lasses were having a strange conversation concerning one of the lads. The slightly bizarre conversation went like this:

Lass1 "so do you really think that he is one of them then?”

Lass2 "Well when we went down to Manchester shopping he kept looking in the window of that kind of shop, but I wouldn't let him go in.”

Lass1 "Oh that's awful but what else makes you suspicious"

Lass2 “Well I found some items of that kind of clothing hidden in his wardrobe, which I think he used to wear before he met me."

Lass1 "Maybe it was just a phase he was going through when he was younger; he might not be like that now."

Lass2 "No I really do think he is one of them, he tries to hide it but I've seen him waving and talking to them when he thinks I'm not looking."

Lass1 "Oh I'm so sorry for you, what will you do?"

Lass2 "Nothing yet but the first time I catch him tucking his pants in his socks that's it, I'm finished with the closet chav!"

Teen Racers

After watching yet another near pile-up involving one our local teen racers today, I really do think it's time for a rethink.

 Nowadays you just can't deny the fact that the roads are far busier and much more dangerous than ever before. In most cases seventeen is too young of an age to be let loose with a loaded weapon like a souped up car. Modern cars are much faster and more powerful than at any time ever before and I for one think that they shouldn't be used as kids toys.

 Far too many kiddie winkles are tearing around the town like lunatics in high performance cars foolishly financed by credit happy parents hoping to keep up with the Joneses.

 The depressing annual death toll can only be reduced by changing the law to reflect the clear fact that teenagers are far more likely to die in a car accident than any other way.

 In my opinion teens should be limited to unmodified restricted performance cars. And since most fatal teen accidents tend to happen at night and involve cars carrying more than three passengers lets change the law to restrict teens to carrying only one passenger after 9pm.

The Trouble-shooter

We tend to think of Texan oilmen as Stetson and cowboy boot wearing big loud brawny guys, but the trouble-shooter from Houston that I collected from a local hotel was just the opposite. He was of Chinese stock conservatively dressed, quiet, refined and well spoken.

 He was telling me that he was over to help sort out the much troubled Rivers gas plant at our vast Rampside Gas Terminal. The multi million pound project was completed three years ago but has not ever been able to start production. This has cost the staggering sum of three million dollars a day in lost production.

 Our diminutive Texan beamed as he proudly told me that his team had finished sorting out all the problems the previous day and that at long last the plant was finally in production. But as we drove past the helipad towards the gas plant his smile quickly faded. He pointed at part of the plant and explained to me that there should have been a gas flare burning when the plant is working. "Shucks I guess that they've gone and broke the darn thing again" he said shaking his head and adding a few more million dollars to the losses.

The Charmer

Early on Sunday morning and one of my first fares was a young lass who looked like she had been fighting for ten rounds in the boxing ring. If you don't ask any questions you don't get any answers. And so I asked "what happened to your face then?" "I got **!!## bottled" was the less than ladylike reply before she loudly burped, filling the cab with the smell of stale beer and last nights kebab. "I got thrown out just cos I bottled the other lass back, but it's OK cos the fat cow ended up in the hospital" She then started describing the vast quantity of booze she had managed to knock back before reaching oblivion and then waking up in some strangers flea pit.

 I was thankful that it was only a short drive between the two much less than respectable houses that she was travelling between. She handed over a crumpled dirty note for the fare with a tattooed grubby hand. What a charmer eh? But when I checked the back seats I found that she had kindly left a snotty tissue, a well chewed wad of gum and a half smoked spliff behind in lieu of a tip.

Mrs Moneyprice.

One particular fare that I pick up now and again always drives me to distraction, I call her Mrs Moneyprice. 

Her voice is akin to the dentists drill and she doesn't pause to draw breath from the minute she gets in until the merciful moment she gets out again. Without any explanation or preamble she will start to list exactly what she has bought and is going to splash out on that week.

 Every item is then given its price tag right down to the exact penny, and comments added like "it was the dearest they had” or "I don't do cheap you know." A week or two back she even went into great detail about her new super pricey designer underwear which she then went on to say "was a waste of money because she wouldn't wear it." This was far too much information for a shy sensitive soul like me and I very nearly blushed, but thankfully she quickly moved on to the price of her new designer handbag.

 By the time we reached her house the figures must have racked up to many thousands and my poor head was spinning. As she got out of the cab, even though I had not gotten a word in edgeways she said “Thanks for the chat" but before I could let out a sigh of relief she leaned back in the car and started pointing at her garden and telling me the price of every plant and adornment in sight.

Bait Car

A Canadian meth addict steals a bait car which has cctv installed. Wow I wonder if the guy is crazy to start with or is it the meth that makes folk that aggressive. I sure wouldn't like to pick him up as a fare.

Make Up

The best way to attract a man is with your eyes. That's why it's so important to have your eye makeup perfectly applied. If it weren't for the excellent application of proper eye makeup, this young lady probably wouldn't get a second look from most men...

Then again, I could be wrong....

I’ve lost count of the lasses and ladies who have gotten into the front passenger seat of the cab and immediately pulled the sun visor down and looked critically at themselves in the vanity mirror. But then despite having already spent hours painting and powdering at home they find fault and decide to try to apply extra paint and filler whilst on the taxi journey. But some wicked little voice in my head always seems to nag at me to plan the route to include every speed hump and pothole in town.

 Then I am drawn by some strange magnetic force into hitting every manhole cover and drain and my brakes and throttle seem to take on a life of their own, braking and accelerating just as the delicate final touches of makeup are applied.

 So if a lass walks into your party or pub with eyes looking like a panda or lips looking like the Joker from Batman she may just have gotten out of my taxi.

Ticket Blitz

Barrows traffic wardens, whoops sorry mustn't call them that now; they tell me that they are now known as civil enforcement officers started September with a Monday morning ticket blitz. 

The many cars left for weeks at a time with for sale signs on display, that have been parked on Barrow's Roose Rd and Abbey Rd were all ticketed in one early morning swoop. What a bonanza that must have been for the town hall bank balance, maybe we will all get a rate reduction now eh?

 But the long overdue crackdown seems to have worked on the towns would be Arthur Daley’s because on Tuesday morning not a single dodgy car for sale could be found on the streets of Barrow.

Maybe we could get the towns roving civil enforcement officers to check on the ever increasing hordes of traffic lights we now have here in Barrow. For weeks at a time several sets of lights have had faults with bulbs broken or blown leaving some with only one lonely green light left. Perhaps the county council in the far north has decided that they could save some cash by unadopting some of Barrow’s roads.

 They have made a start by tarring over Schneider roads pedestrian crossings and road markings why not just let the towns traffic lights go out one by one and save a few bob on the electric as well eh? Or is it that we have had so many traffic lights installed here lately that the worlds supply of bulbs has been exhausted.

Smoky Joe's

I hear that a cab driver in nearby Lancaster had a fag-break which cost him £315.
John Goulding, of Fleet Green in Lancaster, was found guilty in his absence at Lancaster Magistrates Court, of breaking the smoking ban laws.
The regulations as we all should know by now make it an offence to smoke in an enclosed public or work place – which includes vehicles such as taxis.

Magistrates heard that Goulding was smoking a cigarette in his taxi while parked in a bay on Belle Vue Terrace in Lancaster. He was spotted by one of Lancaster City Council's licensing
officers, who informed him that he was breaking the law and subsequently issued a Fixed Penalty Notice.
Goulding failed to pay the fine and as a result action was taken through the courts.
Magistrates ordered him to pay a fine of £175, court costs of £125 and a £15 victim surcharge.

Coun David Kerr, cabinet member with responsibility for environmental health, said: "Since the smoke free regulations were brought in over a year ago there have been very few cases where we have had to resort to issuing Fixed Penalty Notices.

"That, in part, is due to the large amount of publicity there has been about the regulations and the fact that most people realise that the laws are there for a good reason – to protect public health.

"Nobody has an excuse in saying that they are not aware of the
implications of the regulations and we will continue to take action where we have evidence that they are being broken."
So there you have it lads the law is breathing down the back of your necks and it wont be long before one of our local smoky Joe's is caught and fined.

Near Miss

Check out this video taken from the cab of a UK train. No wonder the driver swore, and I bet the idiot that was nearly killed saw his life flash before his eyes.

Twisted Logic

Well that's the last Bank holiday weekend of the summer over with, and the next stop before we know it will be Christmas. 

 The super Sunday turned out to be a bit of a late starter with most folk not going out until the evening and not as much of the usual rush up to Dalton for the traditional afternoon boozing. Maybe it had something to so with the closure of that popular watering hole the Wellington, which leaves a huge dry gap between pubs and also was the biggest best beer garden in the town. 

Barrow itself was busy though and I was kept busy ferrying drunks into town from the pubs and house parties in outlaying areas. One group of four lads got into the most bizarre conversation as I drove them into town. They were talking about the date of some sporting event and the year of 1970 was mentioned. The inebriated guy who was sprawled on the front seat piped up with “but that was before I was alive." His mates fell about laughing but the poor guy just couldn't understand what he had said wrong. "So you were dead then" his mates said mockingly. 

My sprawled out drunk thought about this for a minute or two and then with the twisted logic of drunks the world over, declared "well yes if I wasn't alive then I must have been dead back then." This went on for the rest of the ten minute ride into town but nothing his mates could say would convince the sprawling drunk that he hadn't been dead before he was born.

Manslaughter?

After what must be one of the first recorded deaths involving an electric mobility scooter police are investigating a case of possible manslaughter. A frail grandmother died after being involved in a hit-and-run incident involving an unidentified mobility scooter rider. The 84-year-old was making her way across a road when she was struck by the electric buggy. A woman driving the vehicle fled the scene after claiming she was going to call for an ambulance. The victim, who has not been named, suffered a broken hip and was taken to hospital where she died 12 weeks later. The death was reported to the Sunderland coroner by the hospital, which was concerned that it was linked to the crash. Now an inquest has been opened and witnesses have been asked to come forward. The incident happened as the victim was crossing the road in the Hendon area of Sunderland last May. Northumbria Police checked nearby CCTV footage but failed to locate the scooter rider. Because electric-powered buggies are not classed as motor vehicles under road traffic legislation, the driver cannot be prosecuted for a motoring offence. This leaves open the option of a manslaughter charge against the rider, if they are ever identified.

The Boat People

The Roa Island Wreck sitting next to the causeway near Foulney Island has become a familiar landmark to most folk round here for a few years now. Being near to the home of local TV star Dave Myers, it even made national television looking picturesque in the background of the new Hairy Bikers series the Hairy Bakers. I had noticed the rusty 70 foot former fishing trawler moving about during violent storms and always half expected to find the rusty hulk sitting astride the road to Roa Island at some point. A year or so back though I heard a rumour that the boat wreck had been sold, and started to look out for the scrap men towing her away or cutting her up where she lay. Next time I drove past her, I was so shocked that I nearly drove off the causeway and into the channel, some crazy guy was actually attempting to scrape away the thick layers of rust and paint her.

A week or two later and the rumours started to get even more bizarre, with tales of folk actually living on the marooned wreck. Asking around over the months I could only find scraps of information about the mysterious boat people, just who were these crazy folk? Strangely the answers come about when I happened to mention it to a fare that we pick up regularly from the Roa area. It's me said Helen straight away," along with my Partner Scott and daughter Saff."

I was shocked surely not, here was a perfectly sane respectable lady telling me that she lived aboard a ship wreck with no mains water supply, electricity, rubbish collection, phone line or postal address. But hey wait a minute, that also means no bills or rates to pay and with the added bonus that no one can find you. Helen tells me that they had been running pubs for the last ten years and had gotten heartily sick of the rat race. The boat is to be a five year project eventually morphing into a permanent house boat moored at a place yet to be decided. You really do have to admire the sheer guts and determination of this family, remember that life has to revolve around the high tides and if you don't get home in time, then you are stranded ashore. All the supplies you need for day to day living you will have to carry over the rocky muddy beach and up the steep ladder onto the boat. I really sincerely do wish them the very best of luck with this slightly crazy venture and hope that local folk will take them to heart and help out where possible. After all that's what us Furness folk are famous for. "What's the boats name? “You may well ask, and when you learn it and its translation then somehow it seems very apt. The trawlers name throughout its long hard working life has been the “VITA NOVA" which means fittingly "NEW LIFE."

Read Helen's blog at vitanovaroaisland.blogspot.com

Read the Vita Nova story at www.vitanova.me.co.uk

Official Vandals

I see that the vandals from way up north of Cumbria have had their annual spree of mayhem and destruction. Yep it's that time of the year again, and we the poor ratepayer have to pay for the doubtful privilege of Carlisle contractors spaying our roads with black sticky tar and then gleefully throwing truckloads of paint chipping stones and dust in all the wrong places. The boys have excelled themselves this year, particularly on Barrow's Schneider Rd which has been transformed from quite a decent stretch of road into a dusty hazardous disaster area. Impressive clouds of dust recreate scenes from hundreds of years ago making the road look like some sort of rural dirt farm track. To add to the authenticity of the scene all modern road markings have been obliterated including the green cycle tracks for which we paid many tens of thousands of pounds to be laid. 

Suits You!

I shall more than likely be hunted down and thrashed with rolled up copies of the Guardian newspaper, by the PC brigade for this one, but it's a true story and I don't mean any offence. 
Walking down to the sea front I couldn't help notice as a women stood at a street stall trying on different styles of sunglasses. As she tried each pair on she gazed into a mirror and checked out how she looked in the different colours and styles.
 Then she would ask her companion for an opinion on whether or not they suited her. What was strange to my unsophisticated eyes was that she was dressed in full black Hijab and covered from head to toe with only a slit for her eyes.

Grand and Petit Taxi's

This battered old Chevy is a more unusual example of the Moroccan Grand taxi, most seemed to be battered 70s vintage Mercedes. The Grand taxi can seat up to six passengers and has no meter, fares can be negotiated before you hire one. The other type of taxi of which two can be seen in the background is the Petit taxi, they can carry three passengers and have a meter fitted. The Petit taxi is only used within the city limits and are amazingly cheap,anywhere in town for about £1.80p.



The example below is a Grand Taxi spotted on a dusty highway way up in the Anti Atlas mountains.

Snails in Morocco

Well Morocco certainly turned out to be a bit of a culture shock in more ways than one.

 Firstly to witness the poverty and hardship which is endured by most Moroccans with a smile is a humbling experience. Some rural folk out in the desert still live as they did in biblical times, eking out a meagre living with herds of goats and making the trek to the distant water well by donkey. Looking out the window at the pouring down rain, which everyone has been moaning about here in Barrow is a stark contrast to a country where a lot of children have never even seen rain, the last decent downpour was nine years ago!

 Then at the other end of the scale we were told of an Arab multi billionaire who was spending tens of millions to move a giant cement factory, lock stock and barrel, ten miles up the road just because it spoils the view from his newly constructed huge luxury palace.

 Wondering down the beach promenade at night was at first a bit daunting even at one or two o-clock in the morning crowds of twenty or thirty thousand local folks were wondering about. After a while we noticed that most people were in family groups ranging from grandma down to young babes, all simply enjoying themselves. The very idea of even one family walking about late at night like this in Barrow town centre particularly down our infamous Gaza Strip just doesn't bear thinking about.

 What makes the big difference of course is that even though it is available most locals just don't touch alcohol. It really is refreshing to walk down the street at night and not have to dodge the pools of vomit and suffer the intimidating behavior of aggressive drunks.

 Walking down the prom on the last night I spotted something which brought back distant memories of trips to Walney beach and gathering winkles. A street vendor was selling freshly cooked bowls of the delicacy complete with the obligatory pin to tease them from the shells. After eating a half dozen or so it finally dawned on me that they weren't winkles at all, just common garden snails cooked in brine. The missus always said I would eat owt. I guess she is right.

On the Road

Well folks that's me on holiday as from Wednesday 23rd July for two whole weeks. Good eh! I'm off to Morocco which should be interesting. I will post all about it when I get back, but in the meantime behave yourselves folks.

Witless Wellie

All weekend I had been asking my fares if they had heard anything about or been to Barrow's big outdoor music festival "Furnessfest" Strangely no one seemed to have heard a thing about it maybe I was asking the wrong people. 
Finally on Sunday morning I got a job to pick up a fare from the huge festival site on Rakesmoor Lane. The fare was a young fella who looked like he had gotten drunk and slept in a windy field all night, which of course was exactly what he had done. But as for finding out about how the event was going, I might as well of asked one of the nearby trees.
 I should have known when I noticed that the typical muddy festival wellies he wore were on the wrong feet. 
The conversation went like this; firstly I asked "was it busy in there then, plenty of people then?" Fare "Err don’t know really." Me "was the music good then?" Fare, frowning and looking like he was thinking hard “Music, Mmm music eh, err don’t know really." Me "so did you have a good time then?" The Fare, predictably answered "don’t know really." And when I finally asked him if the beer tent was OK he smiled slightly and said “don’t know really, we took our own”

Mystery M

For the last few weeks or so mysterious red stickers have been appearing on lampposts, windows and buildings etc the length and breadth of Barrow. The stickers consist of a red background and a curious white design which looks like the letter M scrawled by a drunk.

But finally I have gotten to the bottom of the mystery stickers; a source in the local nightclub scene has given me the low-down. He tells me that the long closed Martinis night club on Barrow's notorious Gaza Strip is undergoing a massive revamp and will open shortly in a new guise as Club- M. So the sticker campaign is a form of cheap and cheeky advertising campaign, 

I say cheeky because they have also been sneakily slapping them all over rival night clubs and bars.

The other sign which has appeared along the length of Barrow's Abbey road tells us that major road works are about to begin. I believe that bit and I believe the bit that tells us to expect long delays. But I really am having a hard time swallowing the outrageous claim that the road works will only last for ten weeks. Long suffering local motorists know for a fact that this optimistic claim is stretching credibility. We all know from the previous history of many similar signs that have appeared on our over excavated roads that this is nowt but a fairy story, with not a happy ending in sight.