Bits and Bobs…

No big, rambling article, you will be delighted to hear, but heres a few chunks of news, updates and mildly rabid opinion for you to indulge in:

*Tesco vs Butterfly Reserve: A few days after I wrote about the useless development, and my preference to leave it as a reserve for a little bit of urban wildlife to enjoy, the bulldozers moved in and flattened a big chunk of the site. Cheers, Tesco, I never knew you were so sensitive. I got some positive feedback from the Beeston Express and Nick Palmer, however, both would be keen for you to know that they have to maintain a neutral position on the issue, as it falls outside their respective mandates. Nice to see the Beeston Express publish a similar idea through Jack Smith’s ‘Wildlife Watching’ column (always a sublimely informative and intelligent read). In no way can I claim I influenced this, it was probably written and submitted before my post, but more a sign, and let my preen somewhat here, that great minds do indeed think alike. Hopefully we’re not the only two people to see this is a great idea.

*The Crown diaspora: as mentioned here before, The Crown has closed, and the locals, a lovable bunch who are similar to Ferrero Rocher: rough on the outside, soft in the middle, and every so slightly reminiscent of eighties fashions, have had to find new settlements. Walking home from the station the other day, I was waved into the Greyhound by some ex-pats, and hilariously, every other table was full of displaced Crownophiles. Some Crown friends, the wonderful Luke and Lottie (they get a mention for also being the most hospitable couple in Beeston, despite leading me into that old bad habit of post-pub boozing round their lovely house, often to hours normally set aside for getting OUT of bed, rather than into), Sainsbury’sInformant (of who more later) and possibly most importantly, the dual Wonders of Beestonia: The Crown Pub Quiz and The Crown Card Bingo. A wonderful, near seamless transistion. Get your arses down there, and NOW. Well not now, its half eleven on a Sunday so you’re liable to be refused entrance. But tomorrow. I believe they open at eleven.

*Beestonia’s Throne has Moved: yes, no longer will people walk by my window on route to Sainsburys up Derby Street, and see my custom-made Beestonia T-shirt hanging in the window, and will now have to travel to Marlborough Road for the privelidge. Its very nice, and to celebrate, In shall be throwing a party soon. If you wish to attend, drop me an  email at mattgoold23@hotmailcom, or simply through here, and I shall tell you more. It’ll be a barbecue, and will be the chance to discuss Beestonia. Not me, the concept. And there will be beer. Sweet sweet beer.

*Honoury Beestonian’s Award: I’m starting a new medal for those who are Beestonian’s by spirit, rather than geography. My first gong goes to Mr Jeremy Agar, of this obscure country called the United States of America. Jeremy is in Texas, but originally from NY state, and was once a Bramcotian, coming over here in the very early eighties on a family exchange and became a very good friend of mine. We had virtually no contact for decades, until he found me via Facebook, making up for the people I never liked from school also ‘finding’ me, and he has proved to be someone who can pick up a friendship after thirty years with no awkwardness, a true friend, a true Beestonian.

* Talking of medals…I dont wish to appear glib by following the last bit with this. Far from. But it seems a natural continuum to mention here Karen Upton, wife and widow of Sergant Major Sean Upton, who was killed in Helmand Province a few weeks ago. She is a resident of Beeston Rylands, and is the first recipitant of the new ‘Elizabeth Cross’ medal, awarded to next of kin of armed forces personnel killed on active service, in recognition of their loss. Whatever your thoughts on the war, to me it seems a stupid war, yet fought admirably by those over there. Im a long-term pacifist, yet my dad was in the military, I dont believe these position contradict. Its a real pointless war, a horribly lingering hangover from the Blair/Bush love-in, but all he same, the troops are lions led by donkeys, and we should respect that. More then ever now that a Beestonian has been a victim of this silliness.

*Facebook Hate: Im not going to publish the group in question by giving any details, but an idiot has set up a group dissing a very easy target in Beeston. I checked earlier to see, that despite many complaints to FB, if the group was still up, and disappointingly it was. Terribly, some very badly spelt comments have been left by Notts Uni students. If you hate hate,  then email me and I’ll tell you more and you can register your disapproval, and maybe FB will shut it down. Beestonia is no place for such terrible bigotry.

*Talking of bigotry: Broxtowe Town Council has long been spared the awfullness of Sadie Grahame, BNP counciller and hate-monger, as she was so ineffective she was expelled from the council for non-attendance. Now shes been charged by the police, and became a major thorn in the side of the BNP by being one of the two people who are suspected of leaking the BNP membership list. This was not a Road to Damascus conversion, more her frustration at a failed coup within the British Nazi Party to displace Nick Griffin, who they felt had drifted to far to the left (make your own ironic joke here). Typical of fascists who get power anywhere, they are dangerous, evil, must be resisted but given a smidgen of power, self destruct. Its Broxtowe’s own Hitler-in-the-Bunker moment.

*Woooooh, a bit serious for far too long. Lets move onto an incredibly frivolous story, that of a cautionary tale of what happens when I’m left alone on a friday night without an invite to the pub. I must point out that this story is totally true. Worryingly true.

I decide to offer an incentive to get people offering invites to parties full of champagne pools, the best music ever known and cheese and pineapple skewers: they get a joke posted a my status update every few minutes if I stay home.

No one phones. No one texts. I get emails, but Im more interested in drinking with friends in a local pub than increasing the length of my manhood or helping out a Nigerian Prince in exile. So the jokes roll. Then one seems to gather some interest. I then see a significant chunk of Facebook are using my joke as a staus update. Then I get told it had hit Twitter, and was spreading like syphillus at an orgy. Its still going. Im not going to tell you what it is, you’ll get it soon. Its not even funny. But regular readers of this blog will realise Im hardly the best judge of what is or isn’t….

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