The year ahead

 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Have you made yourself any promises for 2026? I can't remember those I made for 2025, but I probably failed to keep any.

As usual I've decided to try to lose a few pounds. Any loss of weight must be a relief for my painful back and hips.

Other than that I haven't really made any drastic resolutions. I was not as generous in 2025 as I would liked to have been, and I intend to be more so in 2026. My main charity is Médecins sans Frontières, but other things do crop up occasionally that need a bit of help; my beautiful old church in France was one such example last year.

Lady M intends to eat less meat, so I see that being a major change this year. I will, of course, need to follow her example, as I tend to be the cook. No; we are NOT becoming veggies!

In France I intend to return to vegetable growing in a very minor way. Kimbo goes more often than us, so I will get him to plant some Tomatoes in May maybe. Then in Summer, as soon as we arrive, I shall sow some Bok Choi. I believe they grow quite quickly so we should get an edible crop within our three months stay.

Otherwise, I suppose I'm too set in my ways for too much change. I can't think of much I'd like to change anyway! By my advanced age, if I haven't sorted out my priorities; I never will, and I'll stick to my old ways.

I WILL try not to get too upset by the Woke Folk, by Socialist policies, and all that is totally bonkers in our 21st C Britain. However, I see this aim failing!

Most importantly, I have several small jobs that I've been putting-off for years in France. They're nothing important, but they need to be finished, and I'm determined that they will be in 2026.

Goodbyes of 2025

There is quite a long list this year.

Jocelyn Wildenstein. Catwoman.

Wayne Osmond. One of 'The Osmonds'.

Denis Law. Footballer.

Linda Nolan. One of 'The Nolans'.

Dame Joan Plowright. Actress.

Marianne Faithful. Chanteuse, and personal acquaintance.

Brian Murphy. George of 'George and Mildred'.

Roberta Flack. Singer.

Gene Hackman. Actor.

Jack Vettriano. Scottish painter.

Eddie Jordon. Formula 1 supremo.

Barry Fantoni. Artist, writer, contributor to Private Eye.

George Foreman. Boxer.

Richard Chamberlain. Dr Kildare.

Edward Evans (Father Ted). Genius jewelry maker.

Jorge Mario Bergoglio. Pope.

Virginia Giuffre. (?)

Alan Yentob. Old school friend and top BBC TV man (above).

Loretta Swit. Margaret 'Hot Lips' Houlihan.

Brian Wilson. Beach boy.

Sandy Gall. UK News at Ten presenter.

Lord (Norman) Tebbit. IRA bombing survivor, and Tory grandee.

Connie Francis. 'Stupid Cupid' singer.

Ozzy Osbourne. British rocker.

Hulk Hogan. Wrestler.

Cleo Laine. Jazz singer.

Sylvia Young. Stage School founder.

Ray Brooks. Brighton's own actor. 'Cathy Come Home' etc.

Terence Stamp. Handsome actor.

Frank Caprio. US TV Judge.

Joe Bugner. Boxer.

Giorgio Armani. Fashionista.

HRH The Duchess of Kent. Well-loved UK royal, and presenter of Wimbledon trophies.

Ricky Hatton. 'Hitman' Boxer.

Robert Redford. 'The Sundance Kid'.

Dickie Bird. Cricket's most famous umpire.

Claudia Cardinale. Italian actress.

Dame Jane Goodall. Champion of Chimps.

Dame Patricia Routledge. Mrs Bucket.

Jilly Cooper. Raunchy Writer.

Prunella Scales. a.k.a. Sybil Fawlty.

Jimmy Cliff. No more 'Rivers to Cross'.

Sir Tom Stoppard. Playwright.

Stanley Baxter. Scottish comedian.

Chris Rea. Finally, driven home for Christmas.

Brigitte Bardot. Sex kitten.

N.B. Alan Y and I were great friends at school. We first met on the train from London's Liverpool Street heading for our new upper school, we just happened to get into the same carriage. Then, from that first moment, we stuck together and looked after each other's interests. HE, of course, later became very well known in the world of TV, as I opted for the anonymity of the French countryside. Knowing that he's no longer with us is strange. I find his photo above very haunting; it takes me right back to that train journey in 1960, and I genuinely miss him. I can still see that apprehensive schoolboy look in Alan's face as we sat in that railway carriage, and he probably saw the same in mine. RIP old friend.

Bardot 1934-2025

I met Brigitte Bardot in 1966 (I think). She had just married the German industrialist Gunter Sachs (above), and must have been in London (secretly) as part of her honeymoon.

BB came into my Chelsea antique shop and looked admiringly at a few bits and pieces; one she held up and declared "Zat iz boootifool". However, she left without buying anything. The only words between us being Good morning, and Goodbye.

It goes without saying that she was an extremely beautiful woman (very much 'my type'), but that wasn't my first observation. She was accompanied by her very tanned and handsome Chauffeur. He was in full livery with jodhpurs, cap, and black leather boots. Mr Sachs was hanging around elsewhere; totally ignoring her. Had I been asked at the time who she found the more attractive, I would certainly have said the Chauffeur.

Having finished with her singing and film careers, BB became an Animal Activist. I remember that she was responsible for French electricity and telephone pylons being altered. Previously they had been hollow aluminium with holes up the length of the poles. BB had discovered that birds built nests in the holes but the nests either collapsed inside, or the baby chicks couldn't escape, and a huge number were dying. Both the EDF and France Telecom changed their designs, and countless baby birds were saved. Well done BB. 

We met all too briefly, but she left a lasting impression.

BB was an icon. She epitomised the 60's look. 

The expression 'Sex Kitten' was perfect for her. RIP.

 

A quiet life.

I have never searched for fame or riches. I'm one of those people who has always been happy to blend into the background, do my own thing, and hopefully live a pleasant life.

With Christmas now behind us, it has made me think of my life's priorities, and to me there is nothing more important than 'family'.

These days I can think of no greater pleasure than sitting down with my children and grandchildren, and eating and drinking, and enjoying good laughter-filled conversation (preferably outdoors in sunshine).

Knowing that one has raised one's children to be good and successful citizens is the best feeling.

This photo was taken chez nous last Summer (by Lady M) in S France. It pictures me, Wills, Kimbo, and Boo Boo, enjoying a few glasses of Champagne; as we do! 

One of my greatest pleasures as a father, was discovering that my children all have a very fine sense of humour. I cannot abide humourless people. Looking at that lovely smile on Boo Boo's face suggests that my grandsons have also inherited the quality. A good sense of humour, and a love of good food and wine, are far more important in life than £Millions in the bank or a 1st from Balliol. 

Believe me; it's true!

 

New 2025 Citroën 2CV FINALLY Launched!

Way back in the 70's, I owned a blue 2CV; I loved it.

So when, a few years ago, I heard that Citroen were going to re-launch them, I was quite excited.

Having looked at this video it looks as if it's going to be quite a faithful reproduction. The interior looks more luxurious, but otherwise it looks very similar to my old corrugated tin box on wheels.

I once informed a neighbour that I was going to drive to England and back in my 2CV. She said "You'll never make it, you'll never make it". I did!

It's the only car I've ever regretted selling.

“Mr. Sandman" A Retro Jazzy Living Room Cover

Mr Sandman is such a good tune, and these musicians and the singer are all excellent.

Good work!

The REAL Christmas

It's Christmas morning, around 5.30 am. I've grabbed a bacon sandwich, posted my day's blog, and then consulted my 'logistics' list. On the very top was 'Lay Table', and 'Prepare Sprouts'. 

Then; make Stuffing, make Pigs-in-Blankets, peel a few Potatoes, get the Sauce started (with giblets), and finally prepare the Turkey. Breathe deeply. Take Billy for a walk.  

En route for the park we meet two Fox Cubs (shy one out of picture). Billy looks at them for a while, exchanges secret Canine patois, then wishes them a happy Christmas. The park is almost empty. I liberate a couple of sprigs of berry-less Holly, and head for home. Back indoors it's warm, and already smells Christmassy.

The exchanging of gifts is, of course, a vital part of Christmas, so when our guests have arrived, we open Champagne (of course), eat Smoked Salmon and Caviar on Ritz Crackers, then make a start on the huge pile of presents that are clustered beneath our piss-poor excuse for a tree.  

In between time, I am rushing around betwixt the sitting Room and the Kitchen, trying to keep an eye on the timing of Turkey, Sprouts, Spuds, Sauce, Stuffing, etc.

Christmas isn't Christmas for me without 'Carols from Kings'. We were out on Wednesday night so I have had to watch it on iPlayer. Wonderful as usual. I noticed a surfeit of 'Asian' choristers this year. I wonder why?

We sat down to eat just after 1 pm. All went well, and our Tummies groaned. Far too much of everything; but that's what it's all about.

Only 364 days to go, and we'll do it all again (if we're saved). I love it. It's my favourite day of the year.