Timeless Tooty

Some things never change. Human behaviour, for one. But we don’t want to go down that serious philosophical avenue right now: let’s stick to a far more cheerful subject. Please regard this hideously faded photo of Tooty (before he became Tooty) in 1976…

As you can probably see, he was a cheerful and lovable chap. Well his mum loved him, and, at that time, so did this delightful young woman…

Also as you can probably see, he was a motorcyclist. Protective equipment amounted  to motocross boots, a crash helmet, and gloves. Back then, when very few people considered health and safety, body protection was provided by a pair of flared cotton trousers and a small corduroy jacket.  Note the corduroy jacket appears festooned with sew-on patches. Here it is again, later in the year…

It has grown a few more. And again in 1977…

…where even more appear evident. Because of the extraordinarily piss-poor resolution of the ancient print, it is doubtful that you can  recognise any wording or logos that appears on the plethora of patches. Well let me tell you (if you haven’t guessed already) most of them read ‘Yamaha’.  He was, at that time, The Yamaha Kid. He doesn’t know when, or whence, that jacket disappeared, but he really misses it and has cursed his carelessness on a regular basis for the last few decades. When he returned to motorcycling in 2020, his son suggested that they find a modern equivalent jacket, then do likewise with the patches. Tooty decided against it on safety grounds. If he had ever crashed with that jacket on, it is pretty odds-on that he would have come away with somewhat less skin than if he’d remained perpendicular to the asphalt. So he decided against it. In any case, a sixty-three year old version of The Yamaha Kid would look a tad pathetic, wouldn’t he?  BUT he WAS able to find exact duplicates of many of those 1970’s patches on the Internet. In fact one of them was an original. Prices were too high for most of them, so he passed. What was the point of purchasing expensive patches for a jacket that he wasn’t going to buy or wear? But one was an affordable price, and the orignal patch was an absolute  giveaway. These he simply couldn’t resist. Then his son found an exact copy of the U.S AIRFORCE patch that he had worn above the left breast pocket – and duly bought it for him. Well, the other day, the temptation to sew them on to something overwhelmed him; so he took out his Spanish fisherman’s jacket (that he paid too much for in a Villa Joyosa market a few years ago) and set to it with the needle and thread. Ladies and Gentlemen: in a subdued manner that should not embarrass the old fool too much – The Yamaha Kid returns…

But he doesn’t ride his bike in that gear: he’s not a complete moron. Pity the camera strap had to hide the original 1970’s patch though. Stupid Tooty!

I Won’t Grow Old Gracefully! Do You Hear me? I Refuse!

In 1985 my wife and I needed a joint temporary passport. I don’t remember why, but we did. Now, generally speaking, passport photos make the passport holder look like either a startled hare; a somnolent zombie; or the ugliest bastard in town. Not so we two, I feel…

I think I might have passed for the drummer in a Californian soft rock band; and she would have been our lead singer, no question.  But the years that followed had the same entropic effect upon me as it did everyone else. Eventually it became so bad that I felt compelled to post my first Tooty’s Fashion For Fogeys on this very site. In that opening salvo I displayed an uncanny ability to wear beige without appearing a doddery old fool who watches re-runs of Judge Judy, but doesn’t realise they’re re-runs and has to get up and go to the toilet every commercial break…

…even if I really do. By and large, I think I almost pulled off a perfect deception. Particularly when I added this sort of thing…

…in later blogs.

But, just thirteen months after posting the original T F for F, my son noted the clothes I’d put on in order to walk the dogs. They included those self-same beige trousers; an olive green jacket; and a pair of brown walking shoes. He said:

“You’re looking very…beige…today. Are you on your way out to buy a grey flat cap so that you can complete the uniform and look like an old fogey?”

I checked the mirror. A look of horror stared back at me. Without hesitation I proceeded to a local haberdashery, where I purchased an over-priced tub of colour dye. It accompanied the trousers into the washing machine…

And, several hours later, I’d shed that look of antiquity entirely. Well not entirely, perhaps: but at least I didn’t look like I had a Hyundai i10 or a Kia Picanto in the car port…

And look, matching socks…

And now, judging from the undoubted inelegance I display in this photo, you can see why my wife was the international dancer; and I spent the 1970s pissing about and freezing my bollocks off on motorbikes…

Note the bike: a Yamaha – naturally. Ostend, Belgium, December 1978. So cold that the butane in the gas heater froze and the damned thing exploded. Now that’s something you wouldn’t catch me doing at my age! Talking of which: check out this hair and beard from 1988…

Oh God, I’m so depressed! Where’s that Californian soft rock band when you most need them?

Tooty’s Fashion For Fogeys 4

In the previous iteration of TFFF, Tooty displayed an uncanny talent for looking good whilst shopping at Waitrose during the Summer months. Now, rather belatedly, it’s Autumn fashion for old sods who don’t want to follow the norm. Well first up – if you own or drive a Hyundai, Kia, or a Honda Jazz, you’ve no fucking chance, so look away now. For those others still with a bit of pizzazz in their driving, read on. Well autumn colours come in many hues – not just shades of brown (leaves) with a touch of grey (skies). No, autumn trees come in so many varieties: your clothes should reflect this. So to Tooty himself: what is he wearing during the weeks that lead up to Christmas? Regarde…

   

Okay, the coat is brown. Well brown is good for coats: it hides all the shit that’s bound to get on it whilst out and about – especially in grubby underground carparks and the like. But elsewhere upon the lithe, almost youthful body (at a distance, with your eyes shut), you will discover a rainbow of autumnal colours. Is that plum you detect upon the stylish fabric shoes from Spain? Are there reds and oranges in that checkered shirt? Are those Marks & Spencers trousers really apricot? And did he actually choose that bright yellow belt during the hours of daylight? You bet your ass he did: how else are the blinkered old fogeys that clog the Waitrose aisles supposed to see him coming? Yes – follow his example, you old fogey: stand out like a beacon of style – and don’t get in his bloody way: he has a patience deficit you know!

Spend Spend Spend – One More Time…

Okay, yes I know I said I’d bought enough ‘goodies’ for the Yamaha – but really, at speed, the aerodynamics leave something to be desired. Windblast shoots straight off the raised ‘clocks’ and tries to lift my helmet from my head. A small screen is clearly in order. So I put one ON ORDER. And lo, verily it hath arrived…

Spanish too. Can’t be bad. Then, following a half-hour’s ham-fisted tinkering by Tooty the Wrench-Wielder – and another three-quarters of an hour test riding it (why not, it was dry and sunny), this is the result…

Spot-on. Looks nice: does the job required of it. And it was cheap too. Happy days again.

P.S you’d think I’d have put on something rather more fetching for the photograph. Aargh, you’ve seen me in my Slob Gear!

 

Tooty’s Fashion For Fogeys 3

In my original Fashion For Fogeys I decried the fashion sense of men who are – how shall I put this? – past their prime. Men like me. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not quite so able as I once was. Bits of me have expanded: others shrivelled horrendously. Of course, regarding the former, I refer to my waistline. For the latter, I refer to my brain. Well obviously the willy too; but we don’t want to talk about that. But (as a result of a withering cerebrum) I find myself digressing: back to fashion for fogeys. In the original FFF I displayed an uncanny ability to wear beige gracefully. I also mentioned that one wasn’t neccessarilly forced to drive a tedious silver/grey car to Waitrose whilst wearing said beige apparel either, though in actuality I did, but that, in my case it wasn’t the regular choice of automobile made by fogeys, but something from the Volkswagon group and finely crafted in the Czech Republic. Or, to put it another way – it wasn’t a Honda Jazz (or any model of Hyundai). Well today was shopping day: the sun shone brightly; and, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t bring myself to throw on a T-shirt; some jeans; and a pair of Jesus boots . Yes, I dressed to go shopping. Awful isn’t it? Worse still I discovered a linen shirt in the back of my warddrobe: and guess what – it was beige – though I like to call it off-white. So, being a fashion icon for the older generation, I sought something to go with it that was both practical and stylish. Something that didn’t cry “Fogey!” Naturally success came within seconds. I set off the linen shirt with a pair of plain combat-style trousers in olive green, with a camouflaged ‘bum bag’ by Ellesse, and an equally olive green pair of Sketchers…

Cool, for an old bastard – right?

What – pink soles too?

But better still, not only did I not climb into a silver/grey Honda/Hyundai to visit Waitrose: I also visited Sainsburys (shock horror) in this…

Would have been Yellow, but they don’t make them. And I had to wait two and a half months whilst they built this Race Blue one for me.

So there you have it: the Guru plays by his own rules. And if you don’t want to become an old fogey, make sure you do the same.

Tooty’s Fashion For Fogeys 2

In my first Fashion for Fogeys I displayed an uncanny ability to wear beige stylishly. On this occasion I take it a step further by dispensing with beige all together. What I must stress here is that it isn’t neccessary for old fogey’s to wear dull colours at all. This is never truer than when the sun is shining. Bright colours are not only for winter, young people or laplanders: anyone can wear them at any time of year in whatever weather. Take me for example: I like Spain. I like the Spanish flag too. Both are bright and cheerful. I cheer for their national football team and their riders in Moto GP and international motocross because they make me happy. Bright colours are happy colours. So I am not ashamed, in any way, to appear in public places dressed like this…

So I do. And you can do the same. It just doesn’t have to be red and yellow. Wear whatever colours you bloody like: South Africa’s are rather strident. Just make it bright and cheerful. And what’s more – as a bonus – you’re less likely to get knocked down by a bus too!

Tooty’s Fashion For Fogeys

It’s a well-known fact that not all old fogeys are as fashion-conscious as Tooty. They will happily go out in public in beige and grey. It’s almost as if it’s an age-dependent uniform. “I’m old,” they must think, “colour is an anathema so someone with so many years under his belt: I’m going out in public: where are my beige trousers and my light-weight grey jacket with matching flat cap?”  They will then step into their silver-grey Honda Civic and proceed to Waitrose at a snail’s pace.

Well, if you’re a regular here, you’ll know that Tooty the Chef will always dress inappropriately for both his age and the occasion. Check out his last display…

Yes, a red Waitrose Christmas apron with a Homer Simpson pajama top. Nothing wrong with that. But Tooty the Non-Chef also thinks about what will appear best suited to making him look…ah…non-linear in a chronological sense. By chance he does possess a single pair of beige trousers. He’s not proud of the fact; but at least there is no grey light-weight jacket or flat cap in his warddrobe with them. And, oh dear, he does drive a silver-grey car to Waitrose too. But it isn’t a Honda: and it’s due to be replaced with a snazzy bright blue car. So, today, as he prepared to go shopping, he pulled on his beige trousers and looked at himself in the mirror. “How very tedious,” he said eloquently, “you look like an old fart. Best do something about it.” So he went straight to his shirt warddrobe and fetched out a ghastly nylon shirt that he bought (in a moment of madness) in a Benidorm street market. But even that wasn’t sufficient to totally eradicate the fogey-ness of the trousers. So to the sock drawer he marched – delving deeply into its caverous embrace and having a good old rummage. This is what he found there…

Matching socks – and a red belt too. Almost perfect. See, he may be getting on a bit; but he refuses to be a boring old fart! 

P.S It’s a shame he made such a balls-up of the ironing: those creases don’t look at all groovy. Or maybe its just the bad light.

Spread a Little Happiness

My place of work employs a rather sombre uniform, that being black or navy blue trousers with a matching top. 2018 has not been kind to the company and morale amongst its workforce has reflected this. So I thought; “Let’s cheer the buggers up…with a splash of cheerful colour.” So, spending my own hard-earned cash, I purchased a bright, cheerful, uniform – and wore it to work. The result was everything I hoped it would be. It became the talk of the town, so to speak. But, most importantly, it brought smiles to the collective face of the company’s employees. Job done. And here it is. Warning; you might want to put on a pair of sunglasses.