Jesus managed it so why shouldn't I. Firstly, apologies for the delay.  Secondly,  where are the gannets?  
OK,  I shall swing the lantern and bring you all up to speed.

Well,  I got a job.  I now torture the living crap out of mobile phones,  they are evil and deserve it.  I like it but there's a lot of pressure.  I was doing OK up until the 26th of January when I had a heart attack.  This would have surprised the living shit out of my ex girlfriend who would swear blind that I didn't have one, but I did and it stopped working properly.  Now,  if this had been Hollywood I would have clutched my chest and collapsed on the floor.  But where would the fun be in that.  Instead I decided it was indigestion and I walked down two flights of stairs and got an omeprazsole and went back to bed.  Now as most people are aware this isn't a sensible way to approach this, but hell it seemed like a good idea.  The pill didn't work.  So I dragged my arse down stairs and googled my symptoms.  Google seemed to think ringing an ambulance was a good idea.  So I did.  Mainly because the pain had got so bad that the only way I could get any relief was to bend over and press my chest onto my knees.  
I got to casualty,  wearing a blue parka and pyjamas and slippers,  they stuck me to a heart monitor and gave me a drip of my very own because my blood pressure was in my boots.  About nine the following morning two doctors quite confidently tell me that my heartbeat is normal and I can probably go home at three o'clock as I definitely haven't had a heart attack. But they are going to run a blood test to be sure. Three o'clock rolls round and one of them,  looking a hell of a lot less confident tells me that I've actually had a heart attack and would I mind getting back into bed.  So I did.  The end result is that they find out that two of the veins that supply my heart were collapsed well three stents fixed that and stopping smoking and eating green stuff and going to the gym.  So hear I am a fitter healthier and altogether much more relaxed Darkplace.

Incidentally,  if you are having a heart attack.  Don't run up and down stairs.  Don't have a crap.  Don't have a fag while you are waiting for the ambulance.  My heart surgeon said it was a miracle I made it to the hospital.  

So,  how is everyone?  Is Dickon Kiddythrotller still a fit topic of conversation?

Goodness, Bttd.  What a saga.  We all seem to be getting to an age where online and real life friends are all suffering from various illnesses.  It has got to the stage that when my friend tells me she has no news I say "That's good, then."  Because any news she does have is about people having heart attacks or strokes or being diagnosed with cancer or dementia.  The only thing cheering us up is the arrival of grandchildren or in some cases great grandchildren. 

Hope you are looking after yourself - it's all very well to say the things not to do if you are having a heart attack but I gather they are not so easy to self diagnose, and easily mistaken for indigestiong.  (Though my uncle died of a heart attack and my aunt told me later it was nothing like indigestion, but I have known other people who died of heart attacks suddenly and like you they just assumed it was indigestion.

Hi Caro

I'm a lot better. A lot thinner as well. Back at work and apart from angina pretty much back to normal..... Well as normal as. I can be. So, how's things?

Good to see you back - just stay on the green side of the grass.

Avoid the ping pong balls in the bar. They have been unsupervised in your absence.

You had one job, Nordmann. Supervise the ping-pong balls. Next you'll be telling me you let the Welsh Lady Boys choir dig a bloody mine shift. I feel the vapours coming on.
Now there's a thought I shall rename angina, the vapours. It sounds suitable daft and a lot less like vagina.

To be honest I was a bit disappointed with the heart attack. There was no bright light at the end of the tunnel. No gathering of friends and relatives. Not even a gathering of people I owed money to. Instead all I got was an intensely uncomfortable night on a trolley and a slice of NHS toast.

Good to hear you're still with us BTTDP.

That must have been scary. My father had a heart attack at about the same age I am now ... and that rather makes you think. Like you he thought it was indigestion and we didn't know the truth until the next morning when mum called out the GP for a house call ... my dad still saying not to bother! He never had any further problems and went on to live to a ripe old age.

Ping pong balls? I thought those were pickled gannet eggs - no wonder they had no flavour!

Excuse me! It was most certainly Ms Church's job to mind her own balls. Am I my Charlotte's keeper? Last I heard she's scarpered off to study for a physics degree (does the world need this?), without a second thought for our cellar entertainment. Disappointed? Gallwch ddweud hynny eto, boyo!

NHS toast has renowned recuperative properties - it's amazing the number of people who, upon gnawing on its ethereal habilitations, then immediately check themselves straight out of hospital afterwards. A miracle!

I'll let you off then. Our Charlotte did seem to be a bit obsessed with the physics of the flight of ping pong balls? . Her PhD is going to be..... Notable.

Meles meles wrote:

Good to hear you're still with us BTTDP.

That must have been scary. My father had a heart attack at about the same age I am now ... and that rather makes you think. Like you he thought it was indigestion and we didn't know the truth until the next morning when mum called out the GP for a house call ... my dad still saying not to bother! He never had any further problems and went on to live to a ripe old age.

Ping pong balls? I thought those were pickled gannet eggs - no wonder they had no flavour!

The gannets eggs are a lot more likely to explode.

Oh gawd, you are back and dragging a very good memory  by the sound of it. The bar here has no yard in which you can have those Latvian dancers rehearse for the annual party. We have no annual party here .... possibly pagan rites somewhere but our Res atheists seem to have few fun days. Our Res His Atheiletics don't even have a sports team.... beyond doing mind benders.

I noticed that the Lapp dancers were hanging round the bins smoking roll ups. I've appointed a new choreographer and pointedly left the body of the old one hanging in irons in the gents toilet.

Fear not Priscilla, there will be dancing. And regular trebuchet practice and bears. Lots of bears.

I've tried to stop the Lapp dancers from rolling things up - especially now winter has set in again. But old habits died hard (even if they roll up easy).

Did you know that in Scandinavian climes it's considered impolite to sit on someone's Lapp?

Don't worry about Priscilla's atheism - it's all a front. She's a bear-worshipper underneath it all really.

This is good. I personally tend towards Odinisim..... Or it could be Onanisim? Which is the one that uses up all the wet wipes?

That would be a Thor throat. Or Lock Eye (which affects one in ten Lapp dancers after around two in the morning, I find).

Lock eye? Easily solved. I've freshly greased my bullwhip. Which ones been getting ideas above their station?

St Pancras maybe?

Greasing of bullwhips is against the law in Hindu regions, for obvious reasons, and as far as I know in most branches of Starbucks too. However we don't hold with all that guff here.

Well, apart from those members of the Church of Ursinology, as mentioned. But no matter, the pandas keep them docile.

Ah the seductive lilt of a panda, those come to bed eyes. You can't beat a panda. The WWF gets all arsey for a start.

Seeing as you run the place Nordmann can you turn a blind eye while I redecorate.

First we really need a beer garden. Where beers of many types and varieties will grow from the trees. There will also be a cheese and pickle sandwich bush. Inside we need low ceilings. I like the sound as peoples heads hit the exposed beams. It will be dark save for the gleam of polished brass from the gannet bucket. Should you wish for light the barman can provide a miners head lamp. The bar has a selection of the best ales, beers and lagers and a fine selection of mind altering substances that passes as the spirit shelf. The wall is decorated with the traditional murieal of the battle of Bannockburn in poster paints and wax crayon.

Should users wish there is a small trebuchet in the yard for launching Jehovahs Winesses at innocent passersby.

The glasses are cleaned and the ashtrays emptied. The bears have been freshly shaved and issued new fighting tackle. I have even taken the liberty of jet washing the graffiti of the walls of the ladies traps and changing the air freshener.

Knock yourself out, man. We can rename "My return" (which sounds a tad too messianic, especially if we're catapulting Jovies at passers by) to whatever roofed beer gardens are called when the Davey lamps work.

The decor sounds enchanting, though for the sake of balance we need a second wall where Muriel (bless her) displays the Scots getting well and firmly stuffed. A corner for the ladies, perhaps - the Pinkie Cleugh?

But not this one ...

A good idea! Is there a space for a small torture chamber and a gallery of paintings of famous Whoops moments of history? I can live without the gallery, but the torture chambers a must. The Jehovahs are more ballisticly efficient if you clip off a few extremities. Ms Church said so and she's practically a PhD so she must know something.?

Unless the Witnesses are the size, weight and consistency of ping pong balls I reckon Ms Church's current knowledge of aerodynamics might be lacking. I'm not completely au fait and up to date with the girl's academic career but I think her physics degree is still only seven years in.

Torture is of course a must - at least if it's like any beer garden I've ever been to. The gallery is optional, though pictures of dead Nottingham Forest managers should be banned, I reckon.

Such as this one from the 1930s where Harold Wightman explains to the Forest players from a prepared speech why this season they're going with just nine players, or maybe eight players and a fisherman. The picture is vague. He is also reading out why they have suddenly become Luton Town too.

backtothedarkplace wrote:

Jesus managed it so why shouldn't I. Firstly, apologies for the delay.  Secondly,  where are the gannets?  
OK,  I shall swing the lantern and bring you all up to speed.

Well,  I got a job.  I now torture the living crap out of mobile phones,  they are evil and deserve it.  I like it but there's a lot of pressure.  I was doing OK up until the 26th of January when I had a heart attack.  This would have surprised the living shit out of my ex girlfriend who would swear blind that I didn't have one, but I did and it stopped working properly.  Now,  if this had been Hollywood I would have clutched my chest and collapsed on the floor.  But where would the fun be in that.  Instead I decided it was indigestion and I walked down two flights of stairs and got an omeprazsole and went back to bed.  Now as most people are aware this isn't a sensible way to approach this, but hell it seemed like a good idea.  The pill didn't work.  So I dragged my arse down stairs and googled my symptoms.  Google seemed to think ringing an ambulance was a good idea.  So I did.  Mainly because the pain had got so bad that the only way I could get any relief was to bend over and press my chest onto my knees.  
I got to casualty,  wearing a blue parka and pyjamas and slippers,  they stuck me to a heart monitor and gave me a drip of my very own because my blood pressure was in my boots.  About nine the following morning two doctors quite confidently tell me that my heartbeat is normal and I can probably go home at three o'clock as I definitely haven't had a heart attack. But they are going to run a blood test to be sure. Three o'clock rolls round and one of them,  looking a hell of a lot less confident tells me that I've actually had a heart attack and would I mind getting back into bed.  So I did.  The end result is that they find out that two of the veins that supply my heart were collapsed well three stents fixed that and stopping smoking and eating green stuff and going to the gym.  So hear I am a fitter healthier and altogether much more relaxed Darkplace.

Incidentally,  if you are having a heart attack.  Don't run up and down stairs.  Don't have a crap.  Don't have a fag while you are waiting for the ambulance.  My heart surgeon said it was a miracle I made it to the hospital.  

So,  how is everyone?  Is Dickon Kiddythrotller still a fit topic of conversation?

So happy to see you back, Back.

Your friend, Paul.

Hi Paul. . Nice to be back.

I suppose I should welcome you back Back (from my haunt in (today frosty but more usually soggy) Staffordshire).  I joined a little over three years ago - when the rubbish that was the White Queen was on TV and I did a search on something like "Am I the only person who doesn't like _______ ________'s books".  Coming here it would seem that I am not alone in that respect.  I can't remember your postings but that could be as much due to me sometimes having a head like a leaky bucket to the length of time since you last posted.  There are intermittent posts about Richard III but Minette hasn't posted for quite some time.  Sorry that you have been unwell.  I have been boring the unmentionables off my fellow Res Historians with information about my anaemia and now my coeliac disease but now that I know what the problem is and to cut out certain foodstuffs I do seem to have made some improvement.

I probably "lurk" here more often than I post.  I want if possible to contribute something worthwhile to a conversation if I partake - though I like a laugh as well.  But then what to me is "worthwhile" might bore the unmentionables off other folk.

LadyinRetirement wrote:

 I can't remember your postings but that could be as much due to me sometimes having a head like a leaky bucket to the length of time since you last posted.

Had you read some of the Dark One's more outrageous posts, LiR, you would never have forgotten them. And only he could get away with a whole thread devoted entirely to his own return. Such stupendous grandiosity - I am so jealous  ! I think the thread should be Je Reviens, as in the scent and Rebecca (her boat). Or maybe Risen, in letters all aglow like nordmann's name.

LiR wrote:

I have been boring the unmentionables off my fellow Res Historians...

No, you haven't been boring us, LiR. And nothing is unmentionable here, not even our unmentionable unmentionables.

Well done for surviving A&E on a trolley, bttdp. That reveals true grit.

Temperance wrote:

Or maybe Risen, in letters all aglow like nordmann's name.

Oh no Temp, definitely not. That has connotations that are best left in the unmentionable unmentionables section of the bar.

Welcome back bttdp, it is good to see you are well and still with us. And I'm so glad that the NHS have left your humour intact after all their tinkering.

Intact? It's been reinforced and if I say so myself honed to near perfection. My children haven't forgiven me for father's day this year. I pointed out to them that seeing as I nearly wasn't here for it I expected bloody big presents from them. The looks of horror warmed the cockles of my vindictive heart.

Temperance wrote:

LadyinRetirement wrote:

 I can't remember your postings but that could be as much due to me sometimes having a head like a leaky bucket to the length of time since you last posted.

Had you read some of the Dark One's more outrageous posts, LiR, you would never have forgotten them. And only he could get away with a whole thread devoted entirely to his own return. Such stupendous grandiosity - I am so jealous  ! I think the thread should be Je Reviens, as in the scent and Rebecca (her boat). Or maybe Risen, in letters all aglow like nordmann's name.

LiR wrote:

I have been boring the unmentionables off my fellow Res Historians...

No, you haven't been boring us, LiR. And nothing is unmentionable here, not even our unmentionable unmentionables.

Well done for surviving A&E on a trolley, bttdp. That reveals true grit.

Thank you for the welcome. Surviving on a trolley actually proved quite useful. Because I was blocking a bed in A and E they hoicked me into a presurgical ward while they were waiting for the blood test results. Once they found out that I had actually had a heart attack and they couldn't send me home and in my usual inconsiderate manner was blocking the bed they needed for the pre surgery cases I got shifted to the Angioplasty waiting room. Not as bad as it sounds. I didn't have to build a nest by the friends of the hospital coffee shop. It's a proper ward. Because I was blocking a bed there they put me on the first angioplasty list they could and because they did that they fitted my stents straight away rather than sending me home to come back. Dead clever I call it.

As for my posting history I try very hard to behave. But I am blessed with a perverted sense of humour and the urge to share it. My personal favorite was inventing a war, the Anglo Norwegian naval war of 1874? I think?

Oh and how could I forget! Caro, turned me into an internationally published author by correcting my lack of punctuation and sending one of my rants about Brussels Sprouts to a NZ newspaper.

I am so proud of that it's on my c.v.

backtothedarkplace wrote:

As for my posting history I try very hard to behave.  But I am blessed with a perverted sense of humour and the urge to share it.  My personal favorite was inventing a war,  the Anglo Norwegian naval war of 1874? I think?  

What do you mean, you invented that conflict?

Everyone knows we thrashed the Norwegians in their own fjords in 1874. A lesson they won't forget. Bad year for their parrots that one - collateral damage and all that.

Er, didn't we?

PS Seriously, it's good you are back.

I did. Someone started a thread "What is your favourite war?" so I invented one posted it. Then got on with the day. About a year later I owned up to it. Only to find that people had been Googling it to find out more about it. I felt.... Well to be honest, after I had rolled round on the floor. I felt guilty. But not very much.

The most outrageous thing you did was nearly starting a war when you invaded the BBC Foodies' Message Board. I seem to remember you asked about how to clean your oven -  or was it nord's oven you were fretting about? You got lots of concerned replies before they twigged you were an alien from the History Board.

:) they were a bit precious about it weren't they? To be fair they sent one over first! That KOTR who had an unnatural interest in Blind Jack of Knaresborough? Always used smilies and talked to people like she pood candyfloss and unicorn sparkles?

I was merely channelled my ancestors and followed their teachings. Sadly, my ancestors were English border reivers on one side and Marcher Lords on the other.. So a certain amount of hut burning went on.

One of these days I am going to visit Knaresborough while worse for drink and I intend to baptise the statue of the aforementioned Blind Jack. Vengeance will be mine.

See what I mean?

nordmann wrote:

See what I mean?

I don't know. Most beer gardens I've been had no name at all. Let's call this one dave? Everyone knows and likes someone called dave? There was the unfortunate case of the pig worrier. But he probably preferred to be called prime minister. So I think we can ignore him.

I do not like any of the daves I know. Think again. Poor wording, not sure if thinking is part of that process. Tis but a Trivial Pursuit, naming a bar. Let me know when its over and I'll come to the Christening - or whatever atheists do. I claim sole custody of the Port bottles, casks and barrels. The good stuff that is. Anyone else can have charge of the nasty Ruby blends...... which quite rightly sounds like a nasty virus. I suppose I ought to say welcome back - possibly I will in time.

How can you not like "Dave" theyre always nice people. Apart from that one. You know. That one. Necrophillia? Pigs? OK then no one is happy with dave. I suggest.... Mrs Tiggywinkles Red Hot ShagPalace? Err, no. Hold on. That's my four o'clock. Cedric. How about Cedric?

bttdp wrote:

I don't know. Most beer gardens I've been had no name at all.

Carrying a six-pack into someone's back yard is not actually being to a "beer garden", sir.

No joke, but did you know that Cedric as a boy's name was totally invented by Walter Scott in Ivanhoe in 1819? He apparently got Cerdic all arseways when he put "Cedric the Saxon" into his story. And even then no one used it until Frances Hodgson Burnett had the same fit of dyslexia and Little Lord Fauntleroy came out in 1886. Someone started making little sailor suits for posh victims under the brand name "Cedric" based on Burnett's invention, a bit like nowadays in the US where there are apparently at least 300 unfortunates alive whose parents thought "Adidas" was a nifty moniker.

St Priscilla wrote:

Tis but a Trivial Pursuit, naming a bar.

There speaks an amateur drinker.

Oh dear. Damn. I didn't know that. Maybe we could ask for sponsorship? I have no objections to drinking in the "Reebok is awesome" beer garden?

Not amateur, sir, Corinthian - I suppose some get paid for drinking, do they? Never see it advertised as a job opportunity or is it a closed shop thing? 
(Corinthian as in manning ones own ship c.f. Persian war, Salamis.)

Good morning Priscilla. How are you? Did you know that everything wrong in the world is because of the Jews? Neither did the lady reading over my shoulder.

Sorry for that. It was a toss up between casual antisemitism or homophobia. There wasn't time for both. She did go a lovely shade of pink though. Tuesday is of to a flying start.

Ah, the joys of mobile use while mobile ...

There have been some strange incidents regarding plane passengers reporting their neighbours as terrorists, mainly due to them reading Arabic or similar. The one that really tickled me was the lady on a flight awaiting takeoff clearance in Ronald Reagan who insisted the air marshal detain the lad sitting next to her as he was reading an i-pad displaying "a language that I do not recognise".

The lady herself had to be escorted from the plane in the end, having escalated in hysterics to the point where she was endangering her own health, as well as the eardrums of all around her. The hysterics started when the marshal assured her the guy sitting next to her was actually the co-pilot reading the weather stats.

That lady wouldn't do very well on Saudia Airlines when they say the travelers prayer in Arabic on take off and landing!

Mnnn, I don't know about naming the beer garden  but maybe BTTDP should consider being re-baptised Back from the Dark Place  given his experiences.  Good to see you, sir, and some much needed levity in these hallowed, if grubby, halls.

Darkplace has returned. Welcome back,

Thank you all. Thank you. As you can see I have already taken the bar to new depths. I promise you all that these depths will be plumbed and exceeded.