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Golden Voices - 10 October 2008

Josie Loftus
10/10/2008

THREE weeks ago, a workman knocked on my friend Tresley’s door and asked her if she wanted a new patio, driveway or any other kind of building work done.

Because Tresley is in her local ‘Homewatch’ group, she had been warned about such callers and noticing that something was not quite kosher about this workman, she made a call to the police. As a direct result the ‘con-men’ were traced and arrested along with another four men who were going round the area duping householders out of money.

If Tresley had not acted on her instinct, you might have been the next victim.

And talking about Tresley; she has three cats, Sissy, Rosie and Billy. Sissy and Rosie have no peace because Billy torments them both and can’t seem to pass them by without spitting or clawing at them for no reason other than he is a ‘nasty piece of work’ (Tresley's words).

Personally, I’ve always thought that Tresley’s a bit hard on Billy and favours Sissy and Rosie over Billy.

I think that Billy knows this and feels unwanted … Awww. Tresley has for some time thought that Billy is developing senile dementia which seemed evident when Billy began to purr his way around Tresley’s feet like as though he thought she would appreciate it.

We were all shocked by Billy’s attempt at trying to be nice but it didn’t last long and he was soon back to his nasty old self.

Anyway, peace suddenly reigns like never before in Tresley’s household. The cats are no longer at war and Tresley is no longer calling Billy ‘the evil one’ and it’s all down to cardboard boxes.

Having de-cluttered in readiness for Christmas, Tresley (ever practical and resourceful) left a couple of empty cardboard boxes lying around ready to be put away in the recycling bin. But Billy had a different idea. He slowly climbed into it, settled himself down and has been a different cat ever since.

No more spitting and clawing, no more bad moods and if he has got senile dementia then he’s gone back to being a little kitten again.

Sissy has also claimed an empty box as her own whilst Rosie prefers the top of the wardrobe.

The thing is, it’s not as though they have never had their own beds. Tresley has spent a small fortune buying cat beds, cushions and mats and blankets which have been ignored and eventually given away.

There’s something comforting about a cat curled up snug and warm and sleeping. It’s as though the house and family are safe, mellow and contented.

CAN you believe the audacity of those teachers in Stoke-on-Trent who were packed and ready to go to Marbella for a two day conference with the excuse that it would cost more to hold in this country than abroad?

Yes I believe that to be so. Certainly, if they had made enquiries about conference facilities at the Dorchester, London or at Gleneagles in Scotland but Marbella of all places.

I mean what were they thinking of and how were they going to justify such an extravagance at a time when the education system is on its knees?

However, to be fair to the teachers it’s more than likely they had no say in the matter. It was probably all down to the head of the school who like all employees have to show performance which in this case what he did show was how out of touch he/she is with reality and regardless of whether they agreed with the venue of the conference or not, the staff not wanting to challenge and make waves would keep schtum … after all he/she is their boss.

Thankfully someone from Stoke and hopefully Ed Balls the Secretary for Schools stepped in and saved the taxpayer £40,000.

What is now needed is to replace this very obviously extravagent head with a much needed practical one whose main concern is that the teachers are in attendance to teach in school and not gallivanting … er … conferencing on the Costa del Sol.

NOT all that many years ago; Manchester University had a reputation for being a centre of excellence in all subjects and was especially respected in that its Joint Matriculation Examining Board was by far the hardest exams to pass in the whole of the country.

It was an asset to say that you had passed a JMB exam rather than an AEB (Associated Examination Board) exam and it was also common knowledge that you really had to be above the cleverest to be accepted to study at Manchester.

That was then and this is now when it seems that things have somewhat changed for the worse.

I say this because I couldn’t believe my ears last week as I listened to the news during which there was an item concerning how the University is making available multi-gender toilets to accommodate all and sundry.

By this they mean that some people though they are men and women in body feel the opposite and would be more comfortable using the toilet of their choice.

What I can’t get my head around is how will a woman (with a woman’s body) no matter how masculine she might feel, cope with a urinal?

And it’s all very well trying to accept that this is a problem for the Arthur’s and Matha’s of this mad world but I certainly would not feel comfortable if a few six foot hefty men purporting to feel more feminine than male came into the toilets I was using.

IT is just eleven weeks to Christmas.

Where on earth has this year gone?. It only seems a few weeks ago when I was telling you about my New Year resolutions … er … let’s move on shall we.

I’ve just got to tell you this and I promise I won’t mention it again but it really is true … honestly. Last Saturday morning at seven o’clock, the Cuckoo (which I thought had cucked its last ooo a couple of weeks ago) suddenly sprang out of its house and cuckooed seven times and has kept cuckooeing the correct time ever since.

I just can’t believe how it’s been acting.

The strange thing is that now, with every cuckoo there is a little faint echo afterwards. So what it’s been up to is anyone’s guess.

When I told Tresley about this I thought she was going to blow a fuse. I can’t help what’s going on in there, can I? I haven’t touched it or even dusted it much to my shame.

Whatever’s happening and has happened has happened and so long as it’s doing its job then it’s OK with me.

I don’t know why these sort of things happen to me.

It’s like when I bought some artificial flowers in late June to put in an outdoor pot because the spring bulbs had not flowered leaving a miserable empty space.

I put the £2 brightly coloured plastic blooms in the soil and by the end of that week the spring bulbs had grown and a week later I had Daffodils and Tulips, in July … honestly.

One week to go before the ‘do’.

Tickets are still available but if you can’t manage to get to the Music Box, don’t worry you can pay at the door.

And if you are confused as to whether it’s a Golden Voices ‘do’ or a Newton Heath Palais reunion, it’s both because after I’d written the memories about The Palais everything snowballed from there and it couldn’t have worked out better. It will be great to see you all.