Fortune Telling - A Fictional Account

    Once again Spring has sprung, blessing us with her seasonal warmth for another year – just in time before winter – and with it, a young man's thoughts turn to romance, and all the thrills and promises that accompany a new love. Unfortunately, if your NOT a young man – by general consensus that is – then you're probably turning your thoughts towards another lady – Mother Nature ! She is a far more demanding and unrelenting a mistress. With trembling knees and cold sweats – like a first date, really - I'll start to think about having to jet wash the patio, or suffer mild panic attacks with the expectation of having to mount an expedition into the darkest regions, of the lost world of flora & fauna, more commonly known as 'me back garden'.

It was with this oncoming event, that may - I confess – have influenced my decision to “accept” an invitation to a garden féte at the local vicarage. A community tradition, as British as cream teas, Morris dancers and Midsomer Murders. During my walk-a-round, I passed the familiar institutions, the “A Kiss for a Pound” stall – nice to see Jordan in steady employment for a change – and the competition for ' Best Buns.' usually judged by some pillar of the community or local celebrity – before the “rise” of Big Brother/Goggle Box “winners”

Then, suddenly, I came across the “Fortune Teller” tent, and it triggered a flashback to my youth, and my first exposure to occult practices and the powers of prediction.

It was the summer of 1980, and I was a shy, insecure, self-conscious and almost pennyless young man, just another of those  “statistical reminders of a world that didn't care.” So, with desperation as my moral compass, I sought answers with the aid of Lady Constance Ophelia Norman, and her amazing crystal ball.

Usually, searchers of the unknown and keepers of truth, go under the title of Madame or Mistress something or other, but my psychic adviser had much more nobler credentials. Which I thought must be a good omen, for surely a member of the aristocracy, would have much” better connections” when downloading the spirit world. Constance Ophelia Norman – an abundance of names for one supposedly medium person - was as the classic soul song said 'once, twice, three times a lady'. She materialized from the other side of the tent in a heady haze of mysticism and Estee Lauder, her large frame dis-placing the air as she approached me. Extending a heavily beringed hand to greet me she gave me a fixed expression accompanied with a choice of astrological readings and a non-refundable price list..

“ Which would you prefer ...the Tarot cards or the Crystal Ball ?” she enquried.

“ Oh, well, I'll take the.....ball, please. I've always been curious to see one of those in action”

“ Ah ! That's a pity. Unfortunately there was a slight accident, earlier, and I sort of... cracked it.” Constance confessed.

“ So, you mean it's broken. Too bad you didn't see that coming” I laughed nervously.

“ Hmmm, or you, for that matter” her ladyship muttered under her breath, “ but I can see just

as well with the cards, or perhaps I could interest you in a bit of palmistry, if you're feeling lucky ?” she smirked.

“ Lucky ? “my faith wavered slightly, “ I'll go with the cards thanks, lets just hope my fate doesn't come with a marked deck !” I tried to be funny – a feat that I still have as yet, to master.

“ One man's luck is another man's destiny” her ladyship countered.

“ That may as well be. But, tell me how about superstition, where does that stand in the cosmic scheme of things ?” I queried.

“ What, you mean like walking under ladders or a crossing black cat ?”

“ Ah, now black cats, I get confused about that one. If a black cat crosses your path, is that a good or bad thing ?”

“ I suppose, that all depends on just what one is doing at the time “

“ Yes, true, very true. I never thought of it that way. “ I conceded.

Her ladyship, displayed an impressive degree of manual dexterity and kept her cards very close to her chest – which was even more impressive given her stature- before splaying them out in a semi-circle on the small table, between us. Channeling the appropriate energy, she began the reading.

“ Now, ask the cards, whatever your heart most wishes them to show” she advised.

“ Gosh ! Where to start ? The future, all my hopes, dreams, desires, there are just so many questions, where shall I begin ? I mean, can they actually tell me everything, like where I'm going to ?”

“ Well, I can tell where you've been !” my guide retorted, with a look of disdain.

I decided to ignore this remark, “ O'k. How about romance. Lets asks the cards...will I ever find love ?”

“ Not in that shirt !” advantage spiritualist – I felt at this point..

“ Look here, I don't care too much for your attitude towards me. Kindly, keep your views to yourself and focus your energies on me future, if you would please !” I exploded.

Her Ladyship, looked down at the table, in silence, and then slowly turned over one of the cards.

“ Oh Lord !” the sayer gasped.

“ What is it ? Have you seen something disturbing ? ” I fearfully enquired.

“ Other than you ? " she answered holding up the card. "It's Mr Moody ! “

“ Mr Moody ? which type of card is that ? “

“ You know...' The Mister Men'... Mr Moody.... the blue one ! “

“ Is that why he's moody, because he's blue ? “

“ NO ! Of course not ! What's his colour got to do with anything ? “ she snapped.

“ You're absolutely right, we shouldn't let our colour dictate who we are -- “ at this point, I began to fear that we were about to lose ourselves in a pack of misunderstandings. So, I tried to re-animate my reading,“ Mr Moody, does this mean that I'm about to be emotionally challenged or something ? “

“You mean you're not already ? No. It means my precious grandson has been playing with MY CARDS again ! Let me see,” the mistress of fate, desperately shuffled through the rest of her mystic deck. “ Yes, it's as I feared, some of my signs are missing. I can't seem to find “ Death” anywhere ! “

“ Don't trouble yourself on my account ! “ I exclaimed.

“ Death doesn't necessary mean the end of existence on this earthly plane. It can merely be heralding in the end of one cycle and the dawning of a new era in your life. Like a change of job or a change of lover. Change...it CAN be a good thing”

“ Surely, that all depends on just WHO's doing the changing !”

“ What are you talking about ?”

“ Well, it's o.k. If I'm the ONE doing all the changing, But, what if it means that my boss is about to give me the sack or that my girlfriend's getting ready to dump me. Then, change ...really sucks !”

“ Oh, I see your point.”

“ Still, It could have been worse, I suppose” I posed philosophically.

“ How so ?”

“ It could have been Mr Blobby ! “ I pointed back towards to the cards.

“ Hmmm, quite.....especially in that shirt “

With this last remark, I sensed it was time to call it a day, and cease my quest for otherworldly guidance, and – after crossing her palm with several hours of minimum pay - headed out into the daylight once more, but no less in the dark about my destiny as before.

My future still questionable, and as much a mystery, as it is today.


lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com

Mother's Day Gift Ideas - Another Cliff Richard Album

Acme Records proudly bring you another great collection of albums for this special day. Yes, albums especially chosen with a mother in mind - not exactly sure who's mother they have in mind, but she's out there somewhere. This years selection includes:

Cliff Richard Sings - 20 All-Time Favorite Chirpy First World War Songs
Chas 'n' Dave - Play Hits from 'Les Miserables'
A Cheery Irish Fella - Sings Songs Your Mother Would Have Liked 50 Years Ago
A Good Lookin' American Guy - Sings Romantic Ballads by The Rat Pack
And An Old Boy Band - Sing Cover Versions of Other Boy Bands Who Did Better Than They Did.

Plus, The World of Tat brings you the opportunity to buy your mother a truly c**p gift, because
a) you simply have never taken the time to ask your parent what they actually like
b} or can be bothered to think of anything original yourself
, because let's face it's not a real special day, so you'll probably just buy them a bouquet of flowers from the garage or some cheap floral perfume from Boots.

  Their just Mothers, right, people who carried you for 9 months and suffered the pain and trauma of birth, who put their entire life on hold for the last 30 years or so just to watch and supported you on you journey to adulthood and one day will become a parent yourself. Perhaps, one day, in the far future you can expect a prize present from your child, if so I am sure it will carry the sticker ' THE IDEAL PRESENT FOR MOTHER'S DAY !' the official seal of a **** !

Happy Mother's Day Ladies !

Father's Your Day is Coming Next  ...You have been warned.

lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com

Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Six - "The Ghost & Mr Foxe"

_{" The Ghost & Mr Foxe"}

_{John hauled his tired and battered body, with matching luggage, up the last few steps of the narrow dimly lit staircase, while keeping a watchful eye on the large VSOP Brandy 'night cap' that he held tightly in his other hand. The small walled gas lamps flickered wildly, from some unknown draught, casting long distorted shadows to seemingly dance over the stairway's old flocked wallpaper. Approaching his room on a landing that continued the similarly ill-lit theme, a growing sense of apprehension started to deepen, it was as if it's claustrophobic walls were slowly inexorably closing in on him and the dark feelings of despair that he had been trying so hard to hide from everyone, especially himself, during the last few months began to resurface once more.}

   _{After reluctantly placing his suitcase on the threadbare carpet runner, he proceeded to fumble in search of the doors keyhole with a large tarnished chubb key, while uncompromisingly refusing to let go of his rapidly diminishing glass of cherished Brandy. Finally, with the encouragement of a particularly firm shove he pushed the unwelcoming door open, creaking it's objection with rusty hinges as it went, and immediately threw his suitcase inside followed by himself.}

_{The room was in relative darkness, with only the light of the full moon shining through a small bare window offering any illumination. John peered around and quickly made out an old brass oil lamp on top of a nearby chest of drawers, deciding it best to relinquish his burden of transporting alcohol by the means of rapid consumption. Picking up the lamp he made short work of lighting it and was rewarded at once with a bright yellowish glow, turning the wick up higher he surveyed the rest of the room. It was a reasonable size for a single room albeit the sloping ceiling made virtually half of it inaccessible to anyone over the height of 4' ft, the décor seemed to be from the early 'Puritan' period, sparse in number and appearance The furniture consisted of:}

• _{1 x chest of drawers, aforementioned,}
• _{1 x bed - single use thereof}
• _{1 x wardrobe, tilting}
• _{1 x table chair, table not included}

_{John crossed over to the window and stared outside, the streets below were empty and all seemed clear particularly the night sky where he found temporary solace gazing up at the stars as they sparkled like sequins in a midnight blue veil. From gaps in the window frame he could feel the cold icy fingers from outside desperate to get in, so he turned away to face the small cracked porcelain sink. Opening the cold tap – he'd resigned himself to the fact that hot water would not even be an option - fully up he waited for the violent shuddering and spluttering of the pipes to subside their resistance to supplying anything after so long a period of inactivity, and then finally he was rewarded with a virtual ... trickle, escaping from it's unsympathetic spout. Bending over the sink he cupped both hands filling them with the freezing liquid and splashed the lot into his face. As he straightened up he caught sight of himself in the above mirror - which had started to lose some of the silver backing around it's corners - and studied the dampened facial features staring back at him, they were undeniably all his, he recognized every unfriendly line, every scar, every imperfection, but as to the nature of the man returning his gaze from the other side of the looking glass... that man he couldn't truthfully admit to knowing anymore.}

_{Unfortunately, the short cold shock therapy had only a temporary effect, it didn't take long for John to recall that he was still very tired, very hungry and beginning to feel more bewildered than ever before. Turning to his suitcase he decided to unpack just his night wear and wash bag for now, and call it a day – even though it was technically already another day. He pulled out a pair of heavy blue stripped cotton pajamas's from the case and gave them a good shake to open them up.} 

_{“ Lord, are you still using those ? I thought you said that ' that they had deserved their final night of retirement', ages ago ” came a familiar woman's mocking tone from somewhere behind him. “ Ah, yes I did, didn't I ! But, I reviewed...” John's reflex response to the all to familiar disarming voice stopped short as the realization that such a conversation was not humanly possible, he spun sharply around to confront his senses, and came face-to-face with Cathy,} his wife – his long dead wife.

    _{She stood just in front of the window, her straw blond bob with it's flicked out ends seemed to catch the lamp light imbuing her with a soft almost halo like effect, but the rest of her features were more fleeting to the eye, as if constantly fluctuating just out of focus. She was wearing a yellow slightly ribbed wool jumper with a round low neck - John thought how much it resembled one of her favourite ones, and how alluring she always looked wearing in it - with a white large collar blouse underneath, finished by a dark blue pencil skirt.}

_{"I'm sorry darling, this must be something of a shock to you right now, if it's any consolation I'm just as surprised as you are, believe me,” she spoke empathetically. John remained speechless and motionless, his arms hanging down in front of him bridged by the pair of pyjama bottoms held tightly in both hands, any usual reply hampered by an inability to process the supernatural contact. Cathy tilted her head “ Okay John, you really must try to relax darling. Try a controlled breathing exercise, you know the one, out through your mouth, in through your nose, slow deep breaths now” offering her supportive guidance.}

_{John, automatically followed the instructions, but still struggled to verbalize his thoughts and feelings, instead he merely raised his arms – still attached to each other by their cotton bond - and pointed a solitary finger at her and then, “ Cathy ? Is it...you...is it really you ?” he blurted out.}

_{"Yes, it's 'really' me, well in spirit anyway,” she answered, remaining by the window Cathy rested her hands on both hips, John recalled how she would always adopt this pose for a photograph, as she was never too sure what to do with her hands.}

_{"No, no this isn't happening, you can't be here ! Ghosts don't exist...YOU TOLD ME THAT, YOURSELF !” he exclaimed slightly excitable.}

_{"Yes, I know I said that, but obviously the few books that I'd read on the subject hardly qualified me as an expert, while as you were so keen to constantly remind me,' there's no substitute for experience',” Cathy retaliated, then as an after thought, “ Look, darling let's not get caught up in some existentialist debate here, for all we really know I might be nothing more than a manifestation of a memory, a residual of emotions exorcising themselves in this form with this voice. Or, perhaps I'm simply something you ate that's disagreed with you, how did Scrooge put it ….' there's more of gruel than the grave about me 'she smiled warmly at him.}

_{John moved towards his former corporeal wife but as he did so her image started to shimmer and distort, rather like when you look at a reflection in one of those amusing fairground mirrors. He backtracked to his original position and waited to see if she would calm down, although in life this tactic seldom worked, “ I don't understand are you haunting me then or what ?” he pressed. Cathy remained silent for a moment, she merely returned his gaze as if awaiting an answer from a higher body and then, “ Honestly, all I now for sure are what my senses tell me, I can only trust the things that I see and feel, and you John, I know you darling more than anything else. Your eyes tell me that you've lost your way, I feel the pain and the torment in your soul and everything about you calls out for help... more than you've ever needed it before.”}

_{John looked around the room whilst searching his thoughts, trying to make sense of it, but all his years of experience in the force hadn't prepared him for anything like this. He staggered slightly on his feet, the physical hardship of the day, the alcohol, and the onrush of conflicting emotions were finally taking their toll on him. “ Help ! Why now then ? Why haven't you spoken to me before, I've seen you, you know that right ?” his frustration, his anger, his guilt fighting each other to be voiced. “ I thought I was going out of my mind !” he placed the fingertips of his right hand on his temple and set them to work, slowly massaging it around, vainly hoping to relieve the inescapable migraine that was slowly sinking it's own fingers into his brain.}

_{"I don't know, there could be any number of factors, it could be a transitional process for instance, the spirit world isn't exactly a science you know, perhaps a change of location escalated by the break from your familiar environment, or maybe.... it's you John... you just wasn't ready to listen until now !” she estimated.}

_{The wind outside picked up, whipping the thin bare branches of a nearby tree against the window pane, and then from somewhere in the distance a gunshot rang out disturbing the domestic scene.} 

_{“ What was that ?” startled Cathy, turning her head towards the disturbance. “ It's probably just some excited poacher or other,” he dismissed, frowning as the headache and the effort to keep Cathy in focus increased. “ Anyway, what were you saying just then, that you're my guardian angel or something ? If I couldn't protect you, save you, while alive, then what makes you think you can help me....dead ! Look, I don't need anyone or anything okay, I prefer it this way, not responsible for anyone but myself. I can take care of myself, honestly ! ” he gave up trying to stay on his feet and dropped himself down on the bedside and his pyjama bottoms to the floor.}

_{"REALLY, IS THAT SO !” Cathy asserted, she remained steadfast to her location, but her voice became more resolute with it's conviction. “ Let me see if I understand your predicament correctly. You were about to lose your job, so you've been sent to this old lost town, searching for some 'lost' police station or other, you've already lost half of your luggage and a moment ago you stood there and confessed to me that you were worried about losing your mind, does that sound about the shape of things ?” she concluded.}

_{"You missed one, “ he added solemnly. Cathy returned a quizzical look at him.}

_{"What ?” she pursued.}

_{"You ! I lost you,” John answered. “ Everything else is just...collateral damage if you like,” he replied in a purgatory tone.}

_{They both fell silent, looking down at the bare wooden floor – there was only 4 ft between them, 2 x reasonable steps, 1 x life apart - with only the ticking of a small travel clock buried somewhere in John's suitcase, growing louder and louder marking the passing of time without words.}

_{Finally, Cathy opened up, “ John, you have to let go of things ! Please darling, move on with your life, and stop blaming yourself for my death …” at this point she was interrupted by a further gunshot exploding out in the darkness, this one seemingly nearer than before.} 

_{“ That sounded like a rifle discharge to me,” she shared her considered opinion.}

_{"Hmm, you're probably right, “ he replied slightly distracted.” what of it ?”}

_{"Well, I always thought poachers were supposed to be .. well stealthy creatures, more traps than guns sort of thing, not just blasting away at anything that moves. After all, the whole poaching thing is an illegal activity, isn't it ?” she mused.}

_{"Yes, of course it is ! Perhaps it's a gamekeeper shooting off to warn some would-be poacher away !” he chided.} 
"My, poachers AND gamekeepers all prowling around out there, lock, stock and fully loaded. Your little town certainly seems to come alive at night, let's just hope you can say the same about it's inhabitants come the morning.” Cathy looked at the lamp, it's flame becoming more agitated, “ It's late John, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow's another day, my love. Sweet dreams.” a hard draught from between the window frame's timber, found the lamp and distinguished it without conscience, plunging the room into oblivion, not that John was concerned about such things, for he was there already, passed flat out on the bed, his pyjamas if not the world at his feet.

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Portland Day Spa and the Curse of One Size Fits All Spas

 

_{I wouldn't exactly call myself an aficionado. but I'm certainly no stranger to the world of white over sized toweling robes and one size fits all waffle slippers, or in other words Health Spas. Of which, my most recent of excursions took me – well in an accompanying capacity that is – and my girlfriend on HER special day, courtesy of a generous birthday gift, down to the small, family owned Portland Day Spa, in Southport.}

_{We arrived in good time, thanks to favourable traffic management, seasonally good weather conditions and – for once – a sympathetic Sat Nav. Now, at this point I must stress the virtue, nay importance, of car sharing, for as the saying goes “ first impressions are important, “ or as Robbie Burns once said. “ It nae favours a man's travels in time or far, if he cannae fin' a place to park his car.” I always think companies should give some form of incentives to guests to travel together, “ a coupon for group on” perhaps, not just for the practicality of it all, but for the environment.}

_{The spa is an old, slightly surprising building, rich in character with a very unexpected and interesting history. It started it's humble beginnings – so I was reliably told – as a Quaker church, but as the story goes, catastrophe fell upon it during the infamous ' Wild Oats Plight' which soon thinned out it's congregational masses, thus leaving the building open to new offers, and so it was reborn as a synagogue, The writing was well and truly on the wall, well actually to be more precise it was displayed in the colourful stained glass windows. There the symbols of faith were brightly adorned, the menorah shared it's light with a Star of David, and there was even space for the more obscure Jewish artifacts, the celery stick lays down with the cracked egg and next to the rock cake well that's what it looked like to me – heathen that I am – yes, no 'pane' was spared in the spreading of the word. But, in the end even this lost tribe finally relinquished it's claim on this piece of real estate. Perhaps they simply slipped away one night, in an act of a northern diaspora. Anyway, there is an air of middle-eastern promise held with-in it's walls and dark corridors, that go to create a very distinctive and unique atmosphere.}

_{They spa places great importance in the individual, here every COUPLE can INDIVIDUALLY enter the changing room, one pair at a time that is, 'the customers went in two by two, hurrah, hurrah, the lady and the old man, too !', to paraphrase an old song. I'm not sure if this is just confined to mixed sexes or if this an open door policy that swings both ways, figuratively speaking. This principle also carries itself on to the solitary bag the couple receive to convey their wet swimwear around with them. However, there is a slight armistice during lunch when they 'splash out' by allowing you ONE ice cube PER PERSON, such decadence ! On a final note I would recommend allowing time to check out, because you may face delays waiting for the changing room to become available, one way or another you're going to get caught out with it.}

_{These little idiosyncrasies are not a critique, merely a curious observation of procedure, for overall the staff are very polite, professional and helpful, the lunch was absolutely delicious, we sampled the prawn curry, and of course the building - the star of the show - go to make this a great experience for any day spa-er, old or new, and is more than a welcome antidote from all those clinically sanitised fifty shades of beige spa's that over populate this industry.}

_{Go on, try something different for a change.}

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The Avengers - Original - TV Series Rides Again !

_{Friends, Followers and Fellow Avenger Fans !}

 _{Spread the word and shout – with your best stiff upper-lip, naturally - from the rooftops, style and flair is back in town , and that's it's all right to strut yourself with a tightly furled umbrella once more. The Avengers series is now being aired in all it's glory on television again. Tune in week nights onto the True Entertainment Channel, Sky 183 and 184.}

   _{Black & White, Cathy and Emma – not forgetting Tara to boot – seek them out and enjoy the cold winter nights in glorious, warm adventures !}

_{The best of British to you All !}

Sandbach - A Karma Life

_{The Sandbach Journals ~ A Karma Life}

_{I have been a resident of the historic market town of Sandbach for some four months now - pending my unofficial naturalisation. Eversince my regional imigration back in July, a seemingly lifetime ago, there are still as many boxes to unpack as there are jobs to tick off as completed.  Sometimes I can relax and just live in the moment in this charasmatic, peaceful, historic, semi-countryside town, and then there are moments when I accept I still have a long way to go before I can really rest on me laurels.     I suppose we all fool ourselves – at some time or other – that all is well in our little lives. We believe we're sailing along on the calm and steady waters of our existence, or to put it another way … A STATE OF DELUSION ! I speak – from personal experience – of those unseen forces of chance and ill fortune – that some of us have come to know more intimately as, ' Bloody bad luck'.}

_{Mine started as many other hard luck story begins, a Monday morning. A cold wet Monday morning. A cold wet Monday morning in a car. A cold wet Monday morning in a car that was making a decidedly unhealthy noise. This transpired to be a very unwelcome crack in the front exhaust system and as everyone' knows this is the more expensive area on a car as it feeds some 'cat-a-licked-convertible' or some sort. But I drew comfort from the fact that at least it made a change from my 'big end' dropping it's usual clanger – a small consolation, I suppose. Anyway, heads were nodded, hands wringed and a comprehensive payment plan was agreed upon – I pay everything up front there and then, and get to drive my despair away at the end.}

_{A few days later, I had just started to move on with my life, when another piece of bad news ran me down... I lost my job ! I hasten to add - at this point - that this was down to economic cut backs and general re-structuring and NOT due to any action on my part. I was merely a casualty to the first dictum in employment law which clearly states ' he whoever shalleth enter into contract lasteth, shall geteth the BOOT FASTEST !'}

_{Finally, to bring the total number of unfortunate incidences to that unholy triumvirate power of three, I received one more disturbing breakdown in the status quo of serendipity. On the Thursday evening, whilst engaged in a extra-marital activity - trying to locate the Christmas decorations - in the garage, there was a sudden violent CRASH, this drew my attention to a 3ft long slab of granite laced worktop, a hangover from a recent kitchen do-over, previously seen propped up against some boxes, but now currently resting upon my flattened left foot. As I slipped my size nine loafer from out under the counter my mind struggled to come to term with a number of issues, what the hell happened, how much of my foot was still intact, was my shoe split asunder from the sheer force of the encounter and if a man cries in the garage, and there's nobody else there to witness it … can he really deny it ? A reflex action drove me out of the garage and towards the sanctuary of home for solace, comfort and a possible offer to drive me to hospital. I made my way across the yard like a refugee from a cheap nineteen thirties horror movie ' It Came from Out the Back !', my hands stretched out before me, reaching for the garden wall, my stiffened leg – a side-effect of pain and shock – was now only good in a supporting role, making me look like I was lurching from side to side, and a strange repeated moan emanated from my lips, a simple confirmation of ownership, “ My leg, my leg !”}

_{Anyway, all of this episode made me wonder why the Karma balance in life is so one sided, I mean what's the deal with bad things happen in three's, but you only get one piece of good luck ? If bad people can get away with things and get mostly what they want but only get a comeuppance way down the line, then what does that say about good people, if we just grin and bear it then eventually we can look forward to watching people we don't like crash and burn ? Surely, good people should have more good fortune as an incentive to stay good, and bad people just need to learn how to invest more prudently for the down turn.}

_{And more important than all of this.....just when the heck will I get my bit of good luck ? Please let it be soon, otherwise I may have to revise my other option.}

_{lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com}

Mystery Seekers Wanted - TalkingPictures channel

_{Mystery Seekers – Wanted}

_{If you are a lover of all things mystery based – like myself – then may I please recommend, nay urge you, to seek out the highly addictive and thoroughly entertaining TalkingPictures channel - Sky 343, Freeview & YouView 81. Here you will find an excellent selection of classic mystery films from the forties, fifties and sixties, along with long forgotten imaginative, inventive and original television serials, such as H.G Wells “ The Invisible Man” and “ Colonel March of Scotland Yard – the latter being my personal favourite, it stars Boris Karloff, and follows his investigations into the more “ queer” and unexplainable cases of Scotland Yard. Personally, I think his personal performance in this is, is worth the watch alone. Then there is the crime series Richard Diamond – it's no Peter Gunn I admit, but it's still a solid half hour mystery series – starring David Janssen, as the Private Eye with a very interesting answering service. Plus, a seriously over-looked western series called ' Stagecoach West'.}

_{There are some very interesting short films and documentaries from the fifties too ! I confess most content is in black and white, but if you really like well paced story lines, atmospheric scenes, glamour and thrilling mysteries, then tune in, but a word of warning your sky planner may not be able to keep up. The fine films – from a time before C.G.I - that I have watched and would recommend are: “Dead of Night”, “ Whistle Down the Wind”, 
“ Sapphire”, “ Seance on a Wet Afternoon” and “ Hell Drivers”.}

_{This has been a public information announcement - well in my opinion anyway - I truly hope you find this channel as unmissable as I do.}

_{Happy viewing my friends.}