Nureyev.

I was listening to a BBC radio play recently where the hero visited Covent Garden to see Nureyey and Fonteyn, and it reminded me of a chance encounter.

In around 1966-67 I was dealing in antiques in London's Chelsea. In those days, and in that location, you really never knew who you would meet next. 'Celebs' were thick on the ground.

So I wasn't really surprised when one morning in walked Rudolf Nureyev.

He was a stunning sight. Exceptionally handsome in his very camp style, and dressed almost from head to foot in fur. The photo above was NOT his outfit at the time, but it was the only one I could find of anything similar. The hat looks the same.

Knowing our local Fox population as I do, I would suggest that his hat and coat were of Fox fur; they were certainly of that type and colour. He also wore soft pale leather, knee high, boots that were trimmed with the same fur around the tops. He stood out from the crowd like a sore thumb.

He looked around my offerings (mostly early European polychromed wood carving), and handled a few appreciatively. We didn't speak, other than a polite 'good morning'. Then he was gone. He was by himself, and in those days no-one pestered for autographs, etc.  

I have never been to the Ballet, and I regret this. Some of the world's better Ballet companies do visit Brighton, so there's still time. I can, of course, no longer see Nureyev, but there are plenty of others who possibly come close to his genius.

In the mid-to-late 60's in central London, you could stand still for ten minutes and see dozens of well-known faces. You probably couldn't do that today!

 

Almost next door.

You might be forgiven for thinking that I've moved to Jerusalem.

This sign is just around the corner from where I live, and is the remnants of a street that was demolished, back in the 1960's, to make way for a Primary School.

There is now only ONE HOUSE in the non-existent road, and that is No 2 (previously owned by a TV Celeb friend). The remainder of what was Mount Zion Place is now a twitten that runs behind my garage. An area much loved by those who enjoy illegal substances.

I've tried to discover why it was named after Mount Zion, but no official reason is given. One person suggested that there might have been a Pub' called The Mount Zion, but even that has not been confirmed.

A further 100 yards away is Zion Gardens. Again I have no idea why it is called as such.

The only thing I know about Mount Zion (the original one), is that it's the home of The Cenacle; which is described as the location of The Last Supper. All very exotic.

As you can probably see, like most street signs it attracts the attention of the 'Squiggle Merchants' who find it impossible to pass-by any white surface without leaving evidence of their stupidity. Such is life!

 

Less than two months to go.

I feel as if we're rushing towards Christmas, and that the next two months are simply annoying barriers in the way. 

Christmas has become a focal point, and Mince Pies, Plum puddings, and glitzy decorations are already on sale in the shops. It feels as if people are trying to get it all over and done with as soon as possible, so that they can look forward to Easter.

The 'commercial' year, in the UK, is divided into 4 distinct parts. New year, Easter, Summer holidays, and Christmas. And we now have a month of Black Friday to come (whatever that is). We close our eyes whilst rushing from one to the other.

I, like so many others, get caught-up in all this nonsense, and I'm already planning what gifts I will buy, what we'll eat on the big day (THAT never changes), and even when we'll leave for France in 2026.  

With no more 'goals to achieve', one year is now much like another. There are no highs or lows. No targets to aim for. Our only concern is to end each year 'alive and solvent'.

My Supermarket 'Loyalty Card' has only accumulated £12 since last Christmas (the bloody skinflints), so it won't pay for this year's Turkey. Anyway, I'm looking forward to it all. For me, it's still be best day of the year, but PLEASE, can we not mention it for another 6 weeks!

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

Another scandal.

 

Amazingly I was on the side of Rachel Reeves after the recent revelations about her house letting. It seemed to me that the fault lay entirely with the letting agents who should have informed her that a 'licence' was necessary. Now, we know that the truth is far more complicated, and damning.

I'm not at all a believer that all politicians should resign over tiny peccadillos. We'd probably have none left!

However, we cannot have one rule for one side of the house, and a more blinkered one for the other. 

We can all remember Boris being hounded out of office for the silliest of reasons, yet Starmer who visited Durham (under the same lockdown rules) for a Curry and Beer party, faced no retribution whatsoever. 

We also need to remember that Reeves herself had previously been involved in instigating a similar 'Landlord Licence' scheme in her own constituency of Leeds West, which makes matters even worse. 

So far 7 Labour Ministers have gone since they gained power a year ago; 6 women and 1 man. Rayner had to go, Tulip had to go, Ali had to go, Foxcroft had to go, Dodds had to go, Gwynne had to go, and Haigh had to go. I'm now wondering if the fragrant Reeves will also have to go, and make it 8!

There is no question that she has been a destructive Chancellor, but who would replace her? They have no-one with any business experience whatsoever. It's all well and good following Socialist doctrine, but not when it comes to ruining the country's economy.

It's not the oversight that condemns Ms Reeves. Rather like with Andrew Windsor, it's the lying about it that is the real problem. We don't need dishonest people in government.

Do I think she should go? Probably NOT. As much as we'd all like to see the back of her, I think her appalling legacy will condemn her enough.

A Solution.

I think I've found a simple solution to England's illegal immigrant problem.

Overnight (next weekend perhaps) The Army should build a large solid floating pontoon dock on a quiet beach somewhere between Fécamp and Étretat, on the North Coast of France; beside which they would plant a very large sign, such as the one above.

Then, when our kind UK Border Force boats pick-up illegal immigrants heading for England, they would simply steer a semi-circular course back to France and drop them off at the pontoon; instructing them to "Keep walking, The Benefits Office is straight ahead".

There we are; PROBLEM SOLVED.

 

Sport

I would never have described myself as 'sporty', but I did once have aspirations.

As a schoolboy I played Rugby, Cricket, Fives, and Golf. I also rowed 8's, and was forced to participate in obligatory Cross-Country running.

After school I continued to play Club Rugby until my Stock Exchange bosses insisted that I stop on account of my regular Monday Morning injuries.

Later in life I took up Cycling which I loved (I once cycled from London to Brighton with Kimbo), and I occasionally continued with my Golf.

Sadly my sporting activities have mostly been filled with disappointment. I never won a rowing race, all my running jumping and throwing aspirations came to nothing, and my Golf ball always refused to follow my strict instructions. In other words, before any event I knew I would win; afterwards I accepted that I was hopeless.

I have never understood why I was so hopeless. My opposition always seemed far less capable than myself, yet they always succeeded where I failed. 

I have never stood on that top step of the podium. I have never had a shiny medal around my neck. And I have no silver trophies on my mantlepiece. 

If there was a prize for Dog Walking, I might be awarded a 'commendation' rosette, just for my persistence, but it would never be gold silver or bronze. If there was a competition for 'Shopping-Suprimo of the Year', I might be mentioned in dispatches. And if there was a prize for 'Day-Dreaming' I might come close to an award. 

However, having said all that, in Summer when I participate in my daily Swimming competitions, I ALWAYS WIN. But, as I'm the sole competitor, the outcome is inevitable.

 

Lamb Tagine

I have said many times how amazed I am by the things that people discard here in Brighton (and probably everywhere else). Favourites include Ironing Boards and Office Chairs. However, I've also found really nice picture frames, lots of useful timber, and plenty of interesting books.

I think it was two years ago when I came across this BRAND NEW glazed Tagine. I imagine that it was a gift that the recipient had no idea, or desire, how to use.

The glaze is a dull purple (not something I'd choose myself), and it measures just 22 cms across the base. It's a bit small.

For some reason I hadn't used it until last night. It has remained on top of a kitchen cupboard awaiting its baptism.

I made a simple Lamb Tagine. Lamb, Courgette, Red Pepper, Aubergine, Moroccan Olives, preserved Lemon; with Olive Oil, Raz al Hanout, and Cumin powder to flavour. I probably should have added some salt.

Using the Tagine certainly improved the flavour compared to my usual cooking method. Lady M definitely approved, even though she agreed that it needed salt.

The Tagine is a bit small. It's OK for two, but no more. It was given an hour in the oven, and was served with Couscous (what else?).

I will certainly be using it again. THANK YOU to whoever threw it out!