Templeton’s launch brand new range of Hardware Jewellery




jewellry1Templeton’s Hardware are excited to announce their latest brilliant venture “Hardware Jewellery”.  Managing Director and Creative Guru, Derek Templeton said  “This exciting launch brings together months of creative design and planning.  We fully expect to be overwhelmed with demand.”

Templeton’s Hardware has been at the cutting edge of the retail sector for years under the entrepreneurship and dynamic leadership that is Derek Templeton.  Derek explains  “In a market where consumers have less money and are more selective, I had the brain wave to link hardware and luxury altogether under one roof.”  Supported in-store by fellow members of his newly formed Buying Committee, Derek explained that both Doreen Baldock and PC Tucknott had creative input.  “Doreen wears jewellery and was able to help with the design and PC Tucknott chose the string.”

Derek explains that its easy to get started.  “We have a carefully selected range of bits of piping and nuts and bolts, none of which have come from in-store damages, or job-lots.”


“Our shoppers can mix and match and then wait whilst Doreen or PC Tucknott assemble their own design.  There is a small incremental  charge if the shopper wants help with the design and you would expect from a design studio such as ours.”   Derek explains that the turnaround time is quick.  “The advantage of having PC Tucknott involved is that he gained experience of knot tying when he was a scout leader, before the “scout in a headlock incident”, which he has now put behind him.”

Prices start from £19.99 and are an ideal New Year’s Day present. There is an introductory £1 off offer for orders of 5 or more.


Wendy can’t cook, but Tracey and Mitch can certainly drink


Just a short update here to share with you the craziness that is the Templeton’s household on Christmas Day.

Tracey and Mitch did sod all other than drink their way through a case of my Carlsberg lager. They bought nothing, made nothing and did nothing. My present from them ? Sodding bloody socks. Shove it !

Wendy drank Snowballs and (delete as appropriate) Can’t weight things properly/can’t read things properly/can’t follow instructions/can’t choose the right temperature on the oven/just can’t do anything right.

So this is our wonderful Turkey which only looks slightly less tanned than Mr Cheap as Chips Bargain Antiques Man – and I’d pop him on the nose if he came round as well !

Merry bloody Christmas !

Doreen Baldock’s horrible mince-pies


“Mr Templeton, I’ve got a lovely idea for winning customers over”  said Doreen on Saturday.  “I can make some mince pies.”

“My Mum used to make mince pies”  piped PC Tucknott  “But they tasted shit !”

“Tucknott.  I will not tolerate language like that in the shop and if your Mum heard you speak like that she would clip you round the ear.”

“Sorry Tempo.”

“Don’t call me Tempo, Tucknott.” He did it on purpose when I tried to be authoritative.

“Right Doreen” I continued. “You can certainly make mince pies for the customers, but in your own time.”

This morning, Doreen plonked an Aldi shopping bag on the counter.  Contained within was a Tupperware box with 17 mince pies.

“I wanted to do 20, Mr Templeton, but Archie my cat jumped up and licked three” explained Doreen. ” I wasn’t quite sure which ones he licked, but I took three out.  Would you like to try one ?”

” I won’t right now, thank you Doreen.  I’ve only just had breakfast.”  I lied.

Doreen found a plate from the kitchen and displayed the mince pies in a formation leading to one solitary pie balancing precariously on the top.

“It seems a shame to spoil the display, Mr Templeton.  Where shall I put the plate?”

I pointed to a space near the till  and  watched  Doreen place a plastic sprig of holly on top.  Tucknott was marking up the price of driveway salt following the weekend’s sharp snap.

Charlie Duggan was our first customer of the morning.  He runs his own motor repair workshop creatively called “Duggan’s Motors” and was after some WD40. He  had run out because  Tommy his apprentice had forgotten to order any.  Charlie hates paying me retail for something he should be buying cheaper. It puts him in a foul mood and makes me laugh.

“Morning Charlie” said Doreen taking the WD4o and placing it in a brown paper bag.  “Would you like a mince-pie?  It’s my own recipe.”

Charlie looked disdainfully as the plastic holly rolled spontaneously from the plate and onto the floor by his feet.  He nodded and picked one up wondering if that really was a star shape on the top.

“Mr Templeton thought it would be lovely to thank our customers with a little mince-pie.”  Doreen did a horrible little curtsey thing.  It was bollocks and I had never said such rubbish.

Charlie looked at Doreen in bewilderment and bit into his festive fayre. He immediately  spat it on the floor.

“These are shit, Templeton !” he growled scraping his tongue with his finger nails.  “Give me free shit like that again and I will shop somewhere else.”

I sighed and pointed to Tucknott to mark up the WD40.

Merry Christmas from Derek Templeton

Well,  Christmas is nearly here at Templeton’s Hardware and PC Tucknott, Doreen and myself would like to wish you a very Merry Christmas !

The new news here is that recent circumstances (which I am not prepared to go into) have resulted in me deciding to share some of the key business decisions with PC Tucknott and Doreen.  Tucknott has now finished his community service order following the scout in a headlock incident and Doreen is happier now that Tucknott and I have started lifting the toilet seat and doing No 2’s at home rather than at work.

Templeton’s is a happy workplace.

So, I’ve formed a Buying Committee and Tucknott, Doreen and I meet on Wednesday mornings to mull over the latest market offerings. I am proud to announce that we have decided on our key range offering for the season 2012/2013. All the products below are available in store now at a range of competitive prices. Do pop buy and stock up on

The Motorized Rolling Pin

Gift 1

No longer will you have aching wrists or “rolling-pin elbows” with our fantastic motorized rolling-pin. Just press the button on the handle and go with the flow. Price £36.99

The Family Blankeez

Gift 2Gift 3

God we know its cold at the moment – especially in East Yorkshire, but now families can wrap up toasty warm with the Family Blankeez. The brilliance of this clever invention is that it doubles as a cover for the family on weekend bike rides in less than clement weather. Price £27.99

The Pet Sweep

Gift 5 Gift 6How many times have pet owners had to clear up muddy paw marks from the previously beautifully clean kitchen and hall floors. Wel know we let the pets do the work with Pet Sweep. Simply attach the dust boots to the paws of your favourite pooch and sit back and watch your floors get clear. Price £19.99

Merry Christmas

Derek, PC Tucknott and Doreen – Templeton’s Hardware Buying Committee

“There’s wee on the toilet seat.”

I’m not sure whether Sir Alan Sugar has to cope with what I deal with and if he is a Sir, then I must be worthy of a Lordy thingy. Let me explain why.

A few months ago, Doreen joined Templeton’s Hardware from the local library to work alongside PC Tucknott.  Her initial hours were to cover Tucknott’s absence as he cleared through his community service order (300 hours) for the Scout in a headlock incident. But I have kept her on since as more women come into the shop now and the sales of Marigold Gloves have risen 50%.

Tucknott and Doreen knew each other before she joined the ranks  In fact I’m led to believe that Doreen used to baby sit for Tucknott when he was a youngster.  She is certainly quick to remind him of the fact when they have an argument; asking him whether he still sleeps with “Mr Fluff” – I haven’t asked.

When Doreen started work, I made some changes to make her feel welcome.  I made sure our little kitchen area was clean and I added some limited edition East Yorkshire Pansies to the window sills to add a bit of colour, which I know ladies like.  I sprayed the staff area with “Lavender Mist” and added a small radio which I tuned to Radio 2.   I had done well.   In one further gesture I changed the toilet seat, which to be honest had taken on a jaundiced yellow appearance in patches and I added a lock to the toilet door.

But the toilet seems to have caused issues from Day One. For obvious reasons Tucknott and myself have become conditionally trained to leave the toilet seat in an upright position.  I have never felt comfortable doing No 2’s at work – I think that’s a carry-over from my schooldays, but I am over that now.  In fact, when Doreen started and I changed the toilet seat, I found it  was stuck rigid in its erect position anyway.

Doreen complained about the new toilet seat being left upright.  Tucknott and I ignored her to start with, but Doreen then started to shout as she left the little room oblivious to whether we had customers in the shop or not.

“Someone’s left the toilet seat up!” she would shout.  “Derek, we need to talk about why the toilet seat is being left up. It’s discriminatory.”

I told Tucknott that we ought to make an effort to lower the seat after our visits.

Tucknott heard the bit about the need for the toilet seat being  down, but ignored the bit about lifting it in the first place.  The next day I was in the middle of handing Terry Brevitt  his change for three door locks when Doreen stormed out of the toilet.

“Someone’s wet on the toilet seat, Derek.”  I  froze.  “Would the person responsible for wetting the toilet seat please come now and clear it up. I’m waiting !”

“Tucknott !” I hollered. “Go and clear that up now and then wash your hands.”

He dropped his head and sloped off to see Doreen.

Doreen returned on the Friday after two days off and the morning started quietly. But a storm was brewing:  Tucknott was biding his time and announced that he was off to the toilet.  There was a pause and then he stormed out of the toilet.

“Doreen’s pissed all over the toilet seat !”  he shouted.

“Tucknott !  Unacceptable language in my shop !”   I checked around for customers.  There were none.

“Doreen, have you pissed all over the toilet seat ?”  I couldn’t believe what I was asking 48 year-old Mum of two.

“She has, T !” added Tucknott. “It’s disgusting in here, tell her to wipe it up.”

“I’m going on my lunch, Mr Templeton,” announced Doreen. “This is ridiculous.”

I was left with no option but to don the Marigolds and clean it up myself.

“Right, Tucknott,” I said. “Its clean in there now, you can go to the toilet.”

“I don’t need to now,” he said.

Poor Willie Morris and his pumpkins

Poor Willie Morris had built a beautiful cart display of pumpkins outside of Morris’ Greengrocers here in Sprodlington.  He had chained his cart up outside his shop ready for the main selling day – today Halloween, 31st October 2012.  The lock should have been sufficient –  I know as I sold it to him yesterday. It would have taken a major cutting tool, for instance the 1/2″ Grinding Wheel, Cutoff Wheel, and Flap Disc Assortment for Metal, to remove it – I shouldn’t wonder.

It appears that these hooded vandals took the cart up to the allotment area and smashed them all against the tree earlier this morning.

Shocking news for poor Willie, but at least Templeton’s Hardware have some left for sale today for the otherwise disappointed townsfolk – £4.99 each whilst stocks last.

Just who owns the extra hour?

One of the joys/strains (delete as appropriate) of being a resident celebrity of our market town of Sprodlington is that I am often invited to the townsfolk’ 18th/21st/Engagement/Wedding/ Wake (delete as appropriate)

Last night,  The Cross Keys hosted Amy Whitehall’s 18th Birthday.   I have known the Whitehall family for many many years; her Grandfather “Miggs” (I have never really understood why he is called that) once owned a small Post Office up at the top-end of Dukes Road, until it closed about five years ago.   Since then Miggs has enjoyed his retirement and fishes for most of his day time, and avoids his wife Jean for most of the evenings.  I’m not sure whether Miggs invited me or Amy to be honest – the only time Amy has been in the shop was to buy some tattoo stickers I had on the counter. (I’m always on the hunt for extra impulse purchase opportunities).

The evening was typical enough for an 18th: the mothers and aunts wore make up which once  looked better in the 1985 Avon catalogues from where  they were purchased.  The fumes from the distilled perfume made many an eye water.  Uncles, brothers and  cousins  competed for best Sovereign ring and gel-back look combination.  The only difference between them all was ear-ring combination; left, right or both.  One young lad had holes so big you could poke your fingers right through. I imagine that Father’s Day in this family causes total confusion.

The Cross Keys stays open until 2am on a Friday and Saturday night although most leave at 1:30 for final scraps at the Donar Kebab shop at the bottom end of town.  Last night, or more accurately this morning, there was total confusion.

At 1:55am  the DJ,  Amy’s “Uncle Dave” started to slow things down.  We had done “High Ho Silver-Lining” and a Robin Williams number – the “Entertainment” one.   Dave started to play “New York, New York” by Frank.

“Woah, woah, woah !  We’re not going anywhere yet!” shouted Amy’s brother Lee having grabbed the microphone.  “The clocks have gone back and its only 1am.

The crowd cheered, although I imagine 80 percent had no idea why or for what they were cheering.  Dave pressed the pause button and looked over at the bar for clarification. It was clear that he hadn’t even realised that the clocks were changing.   There was a hush as all eyes fixed on Steve Trimble who was behind the bar.

“We clear out at 2am folks” he said.  “Just before the clocks turn back.”

“Bollocks” said Lee.  “The clocks have already gone back. Google it someone!”

“Lee, we are shutting at 2am and that’s it mate!”  Steve replied, realising that he had no allies in the pub, apart from  the cheap-looking push up bra’d bar girls who looked shattered.  They always did.

“The clocks go back at 2am, Lee”  someone shouted from the back of the room.

“What time is it now?”

“2:01am, I mean 1:01 am.  We’ve got another hour!”  hollered the voice from the back of the room.

“Hang on there now.”  DJ Uncle Dave barked, having grabbed control of his microphone again.  “I don’t know what to play, I’m at the end of my play-list.”

“Just play the last hour again Dave” the voice shouted.  “No one was listening anyway”

“Wanker!” barked DJ Uncle Dave.

Miggs and I gave each other a look .  It was time to leave.

More vandalism in Sprodlington

The Sprodlington Post this morning tells a woeful tale of vandalism along the local beck. Their chief reporter, Dan Woolaton observes that panels of fencing have been flattened and along certain parts of the path – completely removed.

Followers of this blog will realise that this is not the first time our lovely market town has fallen foul to the antics of these hooded yobos.

Bloody hooligans



I employed PC Tucknott at Templeton’s Hardware mainly because he was cheap, but partly because  his part-time inclusion as a Special Constable (prior to the Scout in a headlock incident) would help with security. But the lad is a bloody idiot.

On Friday of last week, Tucknott biked to work and chained his bike to a lamp-post outside “Bitz and Pizzas” – he lost his key.  I offered to sell PCT cutting equipment, suitably docking the amounts from his next six month’s salary, but he said it would be fine.

Yes, in less than two weeks his bike resembles something that would normally be found in Dean and Kylie Smith’s front garden alongside the washing machine, broken garden chair, fag butts and dog shit.

The day of the big knickers.


This morning I am still in recovery from the thrills and spills of last night.

The evening started in the best way possible: my daughter Tracey and her boyfriend Mitch were out for the evening which left Wendy and I alone.  I recommended a little jaunt to “Bitz and Pizzas” our local Italian, but Wendy suggested we went to The Cross Keys instead for a quiet drink.

The pub was remarkably quiet and Wendy took a seat in the corner of the public bar and I ordered a Spritzer and a pint of Feltcher (a new local brew)  together with  two bags of Pork Scratchings.  I sat down and  looked and Wendy – she looked as lovely as she ever had – her new highlights reflecting the flickering lights from the “Who wants to be a Millionaire” machine.

We talked and we talked. Then we talked and we talked.  We talked about the good times and we talked about the difficult times.  We spoke about the past and we chatted about the future.  My eyes moistened as Wendy said she was happy living with me and that moving back was the best thing she had done. It was time for us to go home.

I’m not going to go into detail about what happened for the rest of the night, but let’s just say I awoke with the soft feeling of duck down feathers under my head rather than a cushion.  I woke with a smile.  The smile seemed etched on my face as I climbed out of bed, slightly aching, but with a warm feeling inside.

I glanced at Wendy sleeping peacefully, content with her world and then I glanced at the floor.  I saw what I thought was a small parachute; a tent perhaps, big enough for a small family ?  It was the “big knickers” – I had always wondered when the big knickers would move into Chez Templeton and they had arrived quietly and gently and without a huge statement. “They could stay”  I thought.