Archives For September 2019

On the 19th September I posted a rather enigmatic piece on FaceAche entitled,’Gobshite‘. Continue Reading…

‘Uncle’ Bob Paterson – all-round good guy, member of DetectingScotland and a Father Christmas impersonator

Time moves on; circumstances change. For many of us growing old is cruel. In late 2014, Bob Paterson sent The Searcher magazine a poem entitled, “I am a Detectorist’. He said at the time that it wasn’t a wonderful production and he didn’t really expect it to be published. And, according to my recollection, it wasn’t. However, a poem of his was printed in an article submitted in 2015, and for which he was awarded a subscription to the magazine. It is now time to make amends. Here’s the original poem.

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Posy rings derive their name from the word ‘posy’ or ‘poesy’ – a derivative of the word poetry meaning short rhyme. The rings were popular from the late medieval period onwards and were primarily used to communicate secret messages of love between the giver and the recipient. The wearing of words against the skin was believed to increase their poignancy.

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Courtesty Steve Gaunt

Hard work for a degree pays off. As a result of Steve Gaunt posting the beautiful picture of his daughter Emma provocatively posing on Faceache there has been a virtual feeding frenzy.

In January, retailer Boohoo was accused on social media of using models wearing padding to advertise its fashion products. The ‘natural’ look is now in. Other firms vying for a slice of the action are, ’Exposure’, ‘The Lifestyle Agency’ and ‘Stella McCartney’ Associates.

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Daft as a Brush – Eyes Only

8th September 2019 — 11 Comments

Me old Ma (bless her) had many words used to describe me. One of them was, “he’s as daft as a brush”. Strange phrase which I think is from the north-east of England. The complete phrase (according to Mr Google) is, ‘Daft as a brush and not half as useful’.

There are many explanations for where these words originated. This one will do for me. In the days of sweeps children were often used to clean chimneys as they were the only ones small enough to access the chimney to sweep it out. They were held upside down inside the chimney and accidents frequently ensued resulting in brain injury. Hence the expression daft which means silly, unable to concentrate etcetera. I was a smal boy, always grimy and rather naughty.

Nearly 80 years later, that phrase still resonates. The appellation seemed to fit admirably. Note to self – get on with it, John. 80% of your subscribers have already switched off! Okay, I take the point, sitting on my right shoulder guy! Me Ma was right. I’m crackers . . . definition and etymology another time.

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6th September 2019 — 4 Comments

For subscribers only . . . coming soon!

Courtesy of

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Andy Caley’s New Baby

3rd September 2019 — 12 Comments

Andrew Caley

Andrew Caley is a self-confessed ‘saddoe’ who braves all weathers and the mud to unearth ‘the lost, the buried and the forgotten’. He’s a metal detectorist. I first came across his work when he was still new to the hobby and his writing was in its infancy.

Around that time he started contributing to The Searcher, a UK-based metal detecting magazine. His work generated a lot of attention because the content was not only side-splittingly funny; it was fresh, well observed and often irreverent, but in a meaningful way. Readers loved it and clamoured for more.

And now ‘virgin’ Andy and his hilarious exploits have given birth to the arrival of a healthy ‘bouncing baby book’ at under five pounds and destined to thrive and do well. Seek it out on Kindle and download for free. The proud father announced the arrival on FaceAche this morning. Check it out HERE.

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There’s nothing sacred in this world. Every week in the The Mail on Sunday, I look at a short column by Steve Bennett. I don’t buy the ‘newspaper’, but read in the coffee shop if The Star isn’t available. Steve takes an irreverent look at the stories that just might be breaking over the coming days. I’ve snitched his idea. If you are one of those ‘snowflakes’ bereft of a sense of humour, don’t read this. Have a drink, kick the dog, shout at your loved one . . . or organise you next detecting foray.

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