SEVENTY-YEARS-YOUNG, Blogsbody lay awake within a blink of St John-the-Baptist’s gold-on-black hands moving into position for its dozen disturbing dongs to resound through the town from Bishop de Lucy’s 12th century Alresford-on-Arle bell tower through until another minute past midnight.

Sobering the town hack to know St John’s Little Big Ben was likely to continue to ring out the arrival of each ensuing hour in the sleepy watercress capital of the world as he meditated gratefully on the unexpected dawn of his septuagenarian times.

No change, however, at Scorch-the-Dragonlady’s Cressroads Motel – her Swan Bar by overflowing churchyard to the dongs of St John’s – and the lovely Angie’s best rate for a single-bedded room standing at £45-a-night.

Her earmuffs an added extra, but no diving for cover under her four-posters.

‘Hold the front page,’ underwater BBC cameraman Mac-the-John catches up with Blogsbody returned from the Arms at Tichborne to the Word Factory at Cressroads’ Lower House of Windsor.

'Septuagenarian Irving, alias Mr Blogsbody, rollicks disgracefully into another decade of reckless abandon.

‘May you blog mischievously for many a decade to come,’ the former physics teacher at Alton’s Amery Hill School in Greater Cressroads is first to wish him a happy 70th.

Pursued in turn of phrase by Phil Tesky-Pesky, who cautions the town hack: ‘Be careful extinguishing all those ruddy candles.

‘Spreading rash-like across our fair isle, septuagenarianism is an ever increasing ailment, and so live on to remember that no good can come from a bashful, demure, wallflowerish take on life.

‘Happy birthday, Bloggie, when surely now is as good a time as any for you to start really letting loose.’

More to come! –

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