70 YEARS YOUNG At last my hubby’s seventy – though hard for us to see, He went bald at forty, yet he’s aged so gracefully. Less Jerrer’s the Rave, more Jerry the Mellow, what will the future bring, He might stop shouting at his screen or even start to sing! The youthful signs keep showing, they’re honestly quite clear: He dresses smart in Loakes, and splashes cash around with cheer. The biking leathers are long gone, now it’s Gant and Charles Trywhitt— Yet once a year as Elvis, he still looks quite the tit! He’s been a tech adopter, plugged in right from the start— On TikTok, X, and Facebook, a true social-media tart. He podcasts, doomscrolls, and watches documentaries all year And now walks around the house with speakers permanently in his ear. He’s always been a twitcher; he can identify all their calls, And he forages for mushrooms – from penny buns to giant puffballs, We’ve had them in risottos, pastas, sliced and fried on bread, Although when following Heston B...
My kids call me Grom (Grumpy Old Man). OK, pedants will know that ought to be GOM, but a Grom sounds grumpy. I started building internet businesses in the 1980s and these days invest in other peoples' start-ups. Now that less of my life is about to happen than has happened, I've got a lot to get off my chest. This blog is a series of posts about things that annoy me, things that excite me or things that just need to be said. Grumbles of a Grom... Grombles