Leave me be

Didn’t we already go through this, Chris?

I feel as though I’m repeating myself. It would take too long to go through the website to find the post I’m referring to but I specifically remember when you did this previously asking you to stop with this nonsense and yet when I was looking through my junk emails last week, what do you think I found?

There you were, nestled lovingly between some other guff of the highest order. Do I want my free Elvis Presley ’68 coin? No thanks. Do I want a loan of £5,000.00 from someone who couldn’t even get past the spam filter in my inbox? Definitely not. You’ve got something very important to tell me. Something very important is going to happen to…

To you, Siobhan. You can’t even get my name right. How long have we been friends? It’s not the longest name to remember. Three letters and you’re done unlike your full name which is a whopping eleven letters. Do you see me complaining every time I have to write out a card to you? That is, quite frankly, ridiculous. I am not a petty man though so I am willing to let these matters slide. Let me put all of my grief to one side and view with a fresh pair of eyes (and I do have a fresh pair of viewing eyes, they were needed after viewing so much this year so far, the most viewing I’ve done since 2020) the wonders that you have in store for me. It states that something very important is going to happen to me in this…

Autumn 2022. Are you joking? What do you think you’re playing at, sunshine? Are you telling me that your email sent in April 2023 about the magic of Autumn 2022 is supposed to be legit? I gave you the benefit of the doubt and now I’m not sure what kind of sick person you really are. On the surface it’s all wood smothering and horse bothering, a quaint village life with cups of tea and otter sharpening, but underneath that is the kind of repugnant filth that only the Daily Mail would care for.

You make me sick, sir.

Tracking Ian

I’d been wondering where Ian had got to lately. He hadn’t been on the Beans much and there’d been nothing on the Whatsapp group. Turns out he’s gone on holiday to Florida where, by all accounts, he is absolutely tearing the place up.

This lady has been tracking him since Saturday. She wasn’t entirely sure where his holiday would start but she clearly thought Tampa was quite likely. Maybe he was heading for Disneyworld.

Sure enough, a few days later, he’d been pinned down in Orlando.

We all need a nice holiday from time to time. If you’re feeling worn out it can really perk you up. This man thinks it’s done Ian a power of good.

I don’t know when Ian’s going to be back but hopefully we’ll hear from him soon. I imagine right now he’s busy getting autographs from Minnie Mouse and all that. Have fun, Ian! Send us a postcard!

Umbrellagate

I was very angry about it, I can tell you. I swore liberally and at considerable length.

Wait. Let me go back a bit.

So, last night I went to some birthday drinks for Robin, a friend of mine and a fine upstanding citizen. We met in a pub on the south bank in London. Rain was forecast all day, so I took my new umbrella. I love my new umbrella: it’s black and very stylish, and it’s got bright green trim so it looks very cool, and it’s got a push button on the handle that makes it open right out all on its own with a satisfying fwump noise. I kept it leaning against my seat all night.

Just before I left, I went to the toilet, leaving the rest of the party around the table. When I got back, and picked up my jacket, my umbrella was not there.

I asked other people if they’d seen it. I searched behind furniture and under chairs. I looked around at other tables. I asked behind the bar. Nobody could explain it. Nobody had seen it. It had gone. Clearly, some light-fingered Cockney wideboy had seen it leaning there, unobserved, and nabbed it, and was now strolling casually along the south bank with my umbrella in his filthy, criminal hands, probably whistling “Knees Up Mother Brown” as he did so.

At this point I was angry, as described earlier.

Anyway, on the train home, about 40 minutes later, Robin sent me a photo of some people at the party with my umbrella. They’d all been leaving as the pub was closing, and they’d found it leaning by the table – not the table I’d been sitting at, but another just next to it. I’d checked all the tables before I left – in fact I’d checked the whole bloody pub – and it hadn’t been there. Nobody had noticed its mysterious return. So presumably the Cockney wideboy’s misfiring conscience had got the better of him and he’d returned his ill-gotten rain apparatus.

My umbrella is now safely stored in Robin’s flat in Penge, and my anger has subsided.

I will now take questions from the floor. Thank you.

Smidge on Science: Wind

You can feel the wind, can’t you? You can hold up your hand when you’re outdoors and feel it. But you can’t see it. Have you ever noticed that?

If you haven’t noticed that, then don’t feel bad. It’s just that you and I don’t have the keen scientific mind of Smidge Manly. He did notice that, and what’s more he tracked down a couple of experts who could help him, and you, the ignorant public, to understand why.

Rejoice, for the third episode of Smidge on Science is with us, and it contains an unexpected appearance from an old friend!

Smidge on Science: Rain

Seventeen days have gone by since Smidge Manly’s last video, and as seventeen is the number most associated with the Bard of Barnsley, it must be time for his next outing into the world of science.

Rain: you probably think you understand it, because it’s just water and you see it all the time. Well, you’re wrong. Smidge is about to show you just how little you know, and how little he knows too.

Like the wind

Today one of my colleagues was looking for me. I could tell because there was a voice from the corridor that said “where’s Chris?”. At that particular moment Chris was sitting on a chair in the office where he usually sits, so this was not a mystery that would take long to solve.

A moment later the owner of the voice came through the door and said “how did you get there? You weren’t here a minute ago”. This was true. A minute ago I had been in the toilet having a little wee. But discretion is the mark of a gentleman, so I chose not to mention it.

My colleague contemplated my mysterious and unexplained arrival, and declared that I was like the wind, moving about silently and without being seen. That is not a comparison that has ever been made before, and if I were to dispute it I’d say that all I’d done was call in to the bathroom while moving from one room to another, and it was just chance that my colleague had been trying to find me at the moment when I was not in one place or the other. But I chose not to dispute it because I like this idea.

Yes. I am like the wind.

Weather forecast

It’s another scorcher of a day out there, and the hot weather shows no sign of ending.

To find out what’s in store for the next week, here’s the current Pouring Beans Long Range Weather Forecast, sponsored by Frank Fuckle’s Travelling Circus.

	29°	Thursday 21 July Heatwave continues. Some cloud cover in places will give way to bright, piercing sunshine. A gentle breeze will just about keep the heat off. You will be sweaty enough to need a cool shower when you get home in the evening. The hottest day of the year so far.
	32°	Friday 22 July Heatwave continues. There will still be some clouds but not enough to actually keep the sun off. The gentle breeze is no longer refreshing and will just move the clouds out of the way. The Met Office has issued an amber warning against sitting on leather furniture. The hottest day of the year so far.
	36°	Saturday 23 July Heatwave continues. There are no clouds now, just the burning sun everywhere you look. There will still be a gentle breeze, but the breeze will now be hot, like the air that comes out when you open the oven. You will have no sweat left. The hottest day of the year so far.
	41°	Sunday 24 July Heatwave continues. A low-lying heat haze will persist throughout the morning, which may initially look like cool moisture in the air. Unfortunately it will actually be steam which is likely to produce third degree burns if allowed into prolonged contact with skin. The hottest day of the year so far.
	43°	Monday 25 July Heatwave continues. Passengers on the London Underground will be medium rare after travelling two stops and well done with delicious brown, crispy edges after five stops. Shade will be non-existent with sunlight penetrating even opaque objects. The hottest day of the year so far.
	49°	Tuesday 26 July Heatwave continues. Freak “hot snow” conditions are expected, blanketing much of England and Wales in piping hot snowflakes that are likely to bring transport to a standstill. Hot snow is capable of melting snow ploughs and so is difficult to clear. The hottest day of the year so far.
	54°	Wednesday 27 July Heatwave continues. Parts of South West England are expected to melt, with Devon and Cornwall becoming a large slick in the Atlantic. Pouring boiling water from a kettle over yourself will now constitute a refreshing way to cool down. The hottest day of the year so far.

Sun Guilt

Today I’m suffering the sun guilt. It’s a condition I first identified last year, and while I haven’t been able to cure myself of it, having a diagnosis is definitely helping.

This is what happens.

You get a sunny day, like today for example. It was 25 degrees here, clear blue skies, sunny, a gentle breeze to take the heat off – just beautiful. It’s been like this for a few days, but I was at work then, and today is a day off. Today is my day off and it’s a sunny, beautiful day. And that’s when the sun guilt strikes.

The sun guilt says: you missed all that nice weather while you were at work. But you’re not at work today. You should do something with it. It would be a waste not to do something with it. But my plans today don’t involve lazing around on a beach, or having a barbecue in the garden I don’t have, or playing beach volleyball with some Brazilians. I have other stuff to do. Non-sunny stuff. And then I feel guilty for wasting the sunny day.

What I realised last year was that actually I’m not very good at sunny days. I get sunburnt easily and hot weather makes me tired and sweaty and I’d always rather be in the shade. Sunny weather is wasted on me. I have to accept that it’s OK not to be doing sunny things just because it’s sunny. I have a life to live and sunny days are wasted on me anyway.

But this is the first one of the year and I’m having a pretty hard time with the sun guilt all the same.