Are Chihuahuas actually Dogs?

I've always enjoyed the company of Dogs. 

Billy is not particularly sociable; I don't expect him to be a lap dog, but I do expect him to be friendly. He's getting better, but he's a bit reclusive.

I like to have a dog curled-up by my feet, and occasionally to put his head on my lap. I want him to look lovingly into my eyes when I stroke him. And I want him to show enthusiasm when I suggest we go for a walk.

For these reasons I would never have a Chihuahua, they are the most unpleasant looking Dogs, and have fearsome characters. Back in Brighton there is a man who we see regularly in the park who has FIVE Chihuahuas; they are hooligans of the first order, and even the man himself can't control them. Other Dog walkers, and Billy, hide every time they see them coming.

The video below demonstrates why one should never own a Chihuahua.

How does this happen?

I start off with a nice clear table. I place my laptop there, and within a couple of days the whole area is a mess.

The problem is that everything is essential. A notepad and pen, the recharging wires for Wi-Fi speakers and phone, Fly swat, spare pairs of sunglasses, sun hat, packet of extra ballpoint pens, small bag of essential grooming things, jar of drawing pins, twelve different penknives, mug of coffee, and a few other assorted objects.

I'm perfectly aware that it looks awful, and I don't know how to solve it. I could, of course, just put everything in the bin (as Lady M suggests), but I would simply have to PAY to replace them as required.

I'm the same back in England. Where my laptop is, there is also MESS. When I see picture of peoples offices, all neat and tidy, I can only imagine they are bizarre aliens. 

How do I solve this problem? Me and mess are like brothers; identical twins even!

Our Guests Arrive.

My oldest, Kimbo, arrives tomorrow (Dover willing), and will stay for a week or so.

He has booked himself into 'The Tower' (I know it's not a pukka tower, but we call it that anyway).

It has no electricity; light comes via Candles. It is a very peaceful room with big glazed double doors that look out over perfectly tranquil countryside. Kimbo loves it.

The interior is very basic. One bed, a cupboard, a couple of mirrors, and a few candlesticks. The beams are Oak, and the floor is of hand-made thick rustic 20 by 20 cm terracotta tiles. There is one side window which looks out over the front of the house, an oval oeil de boeuf  window behind the bed, and a faux Arrow Slit window (which I made).

I do remember some twit saying to me that building our Tower where we did would ruin the garden. In fact it's made it into a far more interesting lay-out. I cannot now imagine life without it.

We built the tower ourselves. I had a builder do the basic foundations and build block walls to a certain height. Then I continued the walls upwards, put in the extremely heavy ceiling timbers, built the decorative genoise, constructed and tiled the roof. I plastered the interior and rendered the exterior. It was hard work, and we learned as we went along.

And this is the corner that you can see in the mirror above.

It was a fun project, and a legacy of which we're extremely proud. It's very nice to know that Kimbo prefers to sleep there than anywhere else!

Raspberry Vinegar.

 

I have always made my own Raspberry Vinegar, it is an essential ingredient in Summer Salads.

Nothing could be simpler; a handful of Raspberries, white or red Vinegar, and sugar. Strain and bottle.

This year I had no Raspberries, so when I recently finished my last year's supply, I actually went out and bought a ready made bottle; something I haven't done for decades.

Then I had a brilliant idea; in the absence of fruit, why not simply add Raspberry Syrup (Sirop de Framboise) to red wine vinegar. Guess what... the resulting flavour is exactly the same.

And the best use for Raspberry Vinegar?... Well, it has to be on sliced Beetroot. Yummy.

Garden Corners.

I used to process my photographs using Picasa 3, but it was scrapped in favour of the far less accommodating Microsoft version that now comes with most laptops, etc.

The photo below, for example, could have been enhanced to show the true colour of the Roses and Hibiscus, but I can no longer do so. I suppose I could pay for Photoshop, but I don't need all that extra stuff that comes with it.

Anyway, this is the inside of our entrance gate. The Rose is fabulous this year. It's called André le Notre, named after the man who designed the gardens at Versailles. It has a wonderful scent, and is a very subtle pink which isn't really visible.

The drought and excessive heat have played havoc with the garden this year, but some corners are OK. I always enjoy coming or going through the gate; on the other side (as one enters) there are hundreds of bunches of grapes hanging. I also like the entrance to our covered terrace, where the Oleander has grown so well that it now almost hinders our way.

What a bloody mess!

 

Anyone who has seen the chaos at Dover in recent weeks will understand why the UK should apply to be part of the Schengen area, for freedom of movement; and should also apply to re-join the Single Market.

This would not be giving-in to the EU, it would simply make things easier for all Europeans; in or out of the European Union. It would be similar to being back in The Common Market.

If any political party suggests re-applying, please give them your support; whoever they are (within reason).

May I suggest that if you're planning to cross The Channel via Dover in the near future that you stay at home. Take your holiday somewhere in the UK instead, where you, and your holiday £'s, will actually be welcomed. 

20 hours stuck in a car is no way to start a holiday. You can't sleep as you have to inch forwards every so often. You can't have a pee. You can't turn around to go home. And all because those bloody French Customs folk are playing silly bug*ers.

You're The Best Thing - Paul Weller, and Boy George.

Here is the Modfather himself, Paul Weller, with his chum and national treasure Boy George singing 'You're The Best Thing' in front of a non-existent audience. I think it's worth watching in Full Screen.

Bread, Bakers, and Baking.

It wasn't so long ago that I would regularly drive about 15 kms on Sunday mornings, to buy some of the very best sourdough bread in the area. That bakery changed hands, and I have taken my patronage elsewhere.

Our local town, which is just 7 kms away, now has two very good bakeries, so on Saturdays (Market day) Lady M goes to buy salads, fruit, and a few luxuries, whilst topping-up with several baguettes for the freezer.

Bread freezes very well, but should never be kept for more than a week. It comes out just as fresh as when it went in.

Our local baguettes have pointed ends (noses), which makes them look very attractive; even if those noses are wasted. 

A good conscientious baker is a bonus for any community. Those that cut corners are a waste of time. There was a time when lots of bakers were buying 'ready to bake' frozen baguette dough that simply needing defrosting, and popping in the oven. That's not what I call baking! Luckily this lazy fashion has now all but disappeared, and again we're into a period of pukka bakers and baking. 

A slice of the above with a chunk of good Paté; and I'm in heaven.

Birthday Boy.

Yesterday was my birthday; I am now 76.

As is my wont, I 'celebrated' the occasion with a visit to my favourite local restaurant. We don't bother with the menu, as we always have exactly the same things. A Kir as aperitif, Entrecote steak chips and salad, and a Lemon sorbet to finish. The wine was a local Pécharmant.

I'm running out of superlatives for this modest eatery. The Steak was probably the best ever; thick, tender, and delicious. The chips came in a rather unnecessary basket (a new idea), but were superb. And the salad was exactly what one wants from a salad. The sorbet simply refreshes.

The wine was excellent. Pécharmant is a local wine, and I've never had an indifferent one. This particular example had a slight smokiness about it. It was perfect.

The restaurant can be found in the small town of Villefranche du Périgord; it's called The Hotel du Commerce. If you were watching the Tour de France yesterday, you would have got some idea of the area and its superb architecture, etc. Natalie is a lovely hostess; just say Cro sent you.

 

The race is on.

It seems that the final two candidates for the job of UK Prime Minister have now been chosen; they are Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak. 

However, everything is not all rosy at Tory Party headquarters. As the final selection quite rightly is in the hands of party members, it looks as if their two favourite candidates will not be on the ballot paper, and they are asking that the names of Boris and (my choice) Penny Mordaunt be included. What would be the point of having a flutter if your two favourite runners are not at the starting line.   

Many still don't know a lot about Ms Mordaunt (myself included), so this short video of her using sign language will add to whatever knowledge we do have about her. I have no idea if Ms Mordaunt is totally fluent in sign language, but good for her regardless. It's another reason why I liked her; she may have faults, but a bit of 'humanity' goes a long way in my book. I find it a shame that she's no longer in the race.

p.s. If Boris's name WAS included in the ballot, he would definitely be elected. Certain people are suddenly realising what a stupid 'historic mistake' they've made. Die-hard Marxists will say otherwise (of course).

Which would you choose?

In this period of excessive heat, which would you choose? This?

Or this?

I know where I'd rather be!

A First!

Have you ever had a fridge bulb blow? No, neither had I until yesterday.

I opened the fridge door, and BANG! The bulb exploded with a huge flash, and considerable noise; I was quite shocked.

Out came the instructions book, and the bulb was soon located. It was behind a simple frosted plastic covering, and it was removed without difficulty.

Then, of course, came the tricky bit; trying to find the exact model to replace it. I found the fridge's reference number, consulted Mr Amazon, and ordered a replacement, which (fingers crossed) will be the right one (I think it may be 'universal').

I have no idea how many different fridges I've either owned or dealt with, but it must be lots. Never have I had a bulb go like this, proving I suppose that there's a first for everything.

I now have to wait until the Amazon delivery person arrives (probably our post-lady) before I can open the fridge again to the usual floodlighting. For the moment I can see nothing.

How I do things.

I usually start with a rough drawing like this.

And finish with a rough painting like this.

Not much more to say really.

It's stinking hot here, and I have a really busy morning.

What the.....

I'm quite used to finding unusual plants, fungi, etc, but this one is entirely new to me. It is growing beneath our biggest Fig tree.

I can only hope that it's a plant I might recognise in a few days time when it's fully opened.

Lords and Ladies maybe; but I doubt it. An Orchid? Does anyone know? It stands about 12 ins high.

 

Scottish MPs thrown out of Prime Minister's Questions.

The House of Commons at Westminster can often seem like a noisy Bear Pit. Shouting, laughing, and insinuating; this is how things are done, and have always been done. To control all this is the job of The Speaker, Sir Lindsay Hoyle, who's word must be obeyed; or else.

When, last Wednesday, I turned on my TV to watch PMQ's (one of Boris's last) I was met by this commotion, with poor Lindsay Hoyle attempting to control the troublemakers. Eventually he threw them out.

The culprits were Neale Hanvey and Kenny MacAskill; two members of some unimportant Scottish political party connected to the disgraced Alex Salmond.

Poor Hoyle, he looked like a comedian at times; fiddling with his glasses, breaking into falsetto, and looking quite confused. He had to ask for the exact wording to kick them out, as well as having to ask for their names. All good fun from a blunt Northern lad. Enjoy.

How lucky we are.

Our oldest friends are without doubt the best. The ones we've known for 50 years, and have grown-up with, are little treasures.

They don't put on airs and graces, their personalities have always remained much the same, and they are not members of some silly clique. They are simply quiet, sensible, and generous people. Almost a dying breed.

My good friend J (I've known 5 generations of his family) is a case in point. Yesterday, in the sweltering mid-day sun, he turned-up at the house with a cardboard box full of Tomatoes and Beans. 

Life is not always kind to the nicest of people. His wife has Covid, plus other more serious problems, and he's just told us that his daughter has it too. Perhaps his gift was a 'lockdown survival box'; we certainly won't be going out too much, this wretched virus is back again, and serious.

Life is better when one has friends like J.

A Cat by Moonlight.

Trying to take a night-time photo of the moon with a mobile phone is not easy; but it'll give you a rough idea.

The recent full moon has been spectacular here. With cloudless skies it has resulted in such bright moonlight that it could almost have been sunlight. This picture (below) was taken at 5 am, and it was much lighter than it looks.

Whilst moon-watching (from indoors) I noticed that one of our movement activated lights had turned itself on. It was a Cat wandering around and sniffing at things. I turned on the outdoor light to see whose Cat it was, but I didn't recognise it. It didn't run away so I was able to watch it from inside the kitchen. I'm told there are some wild (feral) Cats around, so maybe this was one.

I'm happy to have Cats around, especially if they put the bejeezus up the local Mouse population. No doubt Cats enjoy a full moon as much as we do.

I've now swapped my photo for one of Lady M's; so much better than mine!

 

Now that the Dust has (almost) Settled.

 

There is no question that the one thing all opposition parties fear the most, is a popular and successful ruling party. If that success has been focussed on one person; then get rid of him or her at all costs, and by any means possible. Constant criticising is the easiest method.

The Tory Party in the UK has always been the 'one nation party'; it looks after the interests of the rich and poor alike. Its aims are always to lower unemployment, and to increase employment; making UK plc into a successful 'business' which would attract serious foreign investment. The current Tory government has achieved most of this, whilst at the same time coping with Brexit, Covid, and Putin.

Unemployment figures are at their lowest since around 1979, and the figures of those in Employment are the highest since the early 70's. Funding for the NHS is at an all time high at approx £180 Billion; plus there has been extra funding to cope with the ravages of Covid. 

All in all this current government was doing pretty well. It was also the first country to help fund Ukraine in fighting-off the vile attack from Russia. 

So, what went wrong? In my mind it all started with the unnecessary refurbishment of the Prime Minister's apartment at No 10. Boris and wife's ridiculous spending, and choice of furnishings, was viewed as wasteful, if not pompous; this caused ill-feeling. There have been too many public rows (Cummings comes immediately to mind). Too many "do what I say, not what I do" situations. Too many dodgy explanations. And too many cover-ups. However, very few of these peccadillos were 'politics' related; they were side-events that luckily didn't affect the smooth running of the country. He was eventually dethroned following the sexual antics of some drunken MP.

Sir Keir's endless hounding of Boris at the weekly PMQ's has finally succeeded, but maybe not for the better, or even to Starmer's advantage; that remains to be seen.

In politics you savage the most popular and most successful. Churchill suffered it, Mrs Thatcher suffered it, and now Boris has suffered it. No-one ordered the character assassination of Alec Douglas-Home, John Major, or Theresa May; they represented no real political threat.

The left are cheering. An intellectual Eton and Balliol 'toff' has been toppled, and nothing pleases them more. Too much charisma, too much brain, and far too much success.

Boris will probably quit politics quite soon, and be in HUGE demand globally as an 'after dinner speaker', where he'll probably make even more millions than Blair. He'll certainly be laughing all the way to the bank.

Boris was a major political figure on the world stage, but when your own parliamentary party start to side with the opposition; you have to go. I just hope his successor will be as worthy of the position as Boris was. The last thing we now need is a weak PM, or (heaven forbid) a radical Marxist government.

I'm already beginning to notice a certain sadness amongst the more logical thinkers that Boris is going. He was a real character, and a good politician.

As Joni Mitchell reminded us 'You don't know what you've got till it's gone'.

My £5 is still on Penny Mordaunt to replace Boris, although I now see she's slipped into second place.

Gardening

I would best describe my gardening style as 'Jungle'. I plant things that grow vigorously, then attempt to tame them later when they become unruly.

One of my favourite infill trees are Figs; I think I have nine trees in all. They have beautiful glossy leaves, they are impossible to kill, and they produce lots of fruit. For someone with my lack of gardening knowledge they are ideal. However, they do grow very quickly, and every year in mid-Summer they need to be pruned.

This one below, beside the pool, has gone really crazy this year. I removed about four huge wheelbarrow loads of branches and leaves from the lower half. If you can imagine the lower half as having been much the same as the upper half; you'll have a good idea of what I removed. It looks much more 'airy' now; before it was one big bush. Now it has legs.

I've also been back up the Palm Tree again. I decided to lop off some of the dead fronds. I rather liked the scruffiness of them, but they were causing too much shade. I shall do the same to the smaller one on the other side of the pool. 

I'm not a gardener in the true sense of the word; I'm more of a planter and tidier. However, I do have an aesthetic eye, and that helps. 

With the current heatwave, the grass is no longer growing, and everywhere is turning 'Summer Beige'. This gives me more time for snipping and sawing. All my work is done before 9 am.

Twins?

I found this photo posted on my Facebook page yesterday. It immediately attracted my attention. A pair of twins, I thought.

But look again, it is in fact a woman, and a knitted version of herself and her dog! Yes, she knitted herself and her dog to perfection.

How totally wonderful.

 

PM for PM.

According to a recent poll, it looks as if my choice for new Prime Minister is heading the list.

Not only are Penny Mordaunt's initials PM (Prime Minister), but she is proving to be the most popular candidate with ordinary Conservative voters. 

She is a calm, intelligent, and determined, 49 year old woman. She has an attractive personality, and a fine head of hair. It remains to be seen if she'll get the job!

 

The bons vivants of Jura & Franche Comté - Gueuleton

Here, Vincent and Arthur are learning all about the infamous Poulet de Bresse, (the chicken you need a mortgage to buy).

The Jura region is on the Eastern border of France, where it meets Switzerland; you may have seen some of its beauty recently during the Tour de France. Like everywhere else here, they love their food and wine. You even get English subtitles with this one.

As you can see, they do nothing but eat and drink; drink and eat! Nothing changes.

BBQ Season

I love this time of year. It's hot, we wear the minimum of clothes, and we always eat outdoors.

I've had this BBQ for several decades. I believe it is German; a simple cast iron and steel, pot bellied contraption, that always works well. I shall miss it when it eventually falls to bits.

Here it is caressing some Cumin flavoured Lamb ribs and a few Merguez sausages, whilst some distant person was singing 'Why are we waiting'.

Lady M goes to our nearby market every Saturday morning, and this week returned with a big bag of French Beans. I like everything about Beans, topping them (I don't remove the tails), cooking them, and eating them. They were the prefect accompaniment to our mini meat-fest.

Plates are by Auge-Laribe in Biot, Provence. The large oval one is antique, the round ones I had made for us. I think I ordered 10, and they arrived by post; all perfect. That must have been about 30 years ago. We use them for 'special occasions' only, in fact I think we should use them more often. They make a meal more pleasant.

 

Pruning the Palms

Actually it's not so much pruning as de-seeding.

Palms are lovely trees, especially around a pool. Unfortunately they do have one major fault; they produce seeds by the thousand which if left on the trees will drop into the water. They need to be removed.

I have no idea how tall this particular tree is, but it requires a three-piece ladder to reach the top where the huge bunches of seeds are to be found.

The job is achieved thanks to a branch lopping saw blade which is attached to a long pole. Even at the top of the ladder I needed the extra metre or more that the handle offered.

And here are the culprits. Huge bunches of seeds; which if sown will easily produce small palm trees. 

A nice job for an early Sunday morning; very satisfying when completed.

 

Three Paintings, one Grandson.

A typical scene chez Magnon.

 

(Non-political) Job Opportunity.

 

Young energetic men or women wanted to fill several vacancies, and be your own boss!

Requirements: Good quality Ride-on mower, medium sized trailer, tow bar on car, pair of solid ramps, large petrol can.

Job Description: Estate Management. The candidates will care for grassed areas of absentee owner homes. The candidates must be prepared to travel short distances, and work an eight hour day (minimum).

Financial outlay: An initial investment of between €3,000 and €4,000 for equipment; recoupable within a month or two.

Expected Annual Income: The candidates can expect to earn between €40,000 and €50,000 per annum; with plenty of opportunities for more. 

Work Load: The candidates must expect to be in high demand, and like others in the same occupation he or she must be prepared to turn away clients due to excessive work load.

Work Environment: Outdoors in dry weather only. Hay fever sufferers need not apply.

Please, please; will someone please apply! You are desperately needed.

Phew, what an upcoming scorcher!

This is what greeted me when I looked at the forecast at 6.30 am this morning. 

 

Pizza Night.

I'm not a huge fan of Pizza; I like them but it's not something I would order in a restaurant.

However, I do enjoy making my own, and this is my particular favourite recipe. I tend not to use Tomato on the base.

On a bought round pizza base I spread a good amount of green pesto, then I slice a large Tomato and place the slices at equal distances. Then comes thinly sliced Mozzarella, a few Anchovies, and some black Olives. That's it; what could be simpler?

About 25 mins at 200 C, and it's ready. A plain refreshing leaf salad is the perfect accompaniment.

The Mozzarella melting into the Pesto is quite delicious. No need for salt or pepper. It also has a very appealing colour and aroma; it smells like an Italian restaurant..

 

Blimey!

It's been a month, and the 'lawn' is now greening-up. 

There are plenty of Greengages on the tree, and I shall bottle some for our upcoming Brighton Winter. 

Elsewhere there are Apples, Pears, loads of Grapes, Peaches, Quinces, and burgeoning Figs. How much of them we'll get to eat is anyone's guess.

It's a bit strange not having any veg' growing at Haddock's. This must be the first time in nearly 60 years that I've not had a veg' garden. I had planned to make the area into a fun garden with BBQ etc, but I don't think I'll bother. It'll only become overgrown!

A period of hot weather coming up, so, other than my constant mowing duties, it would be perfect for watching Wimbledon. Unfortunately I find Tennis one of the more tedious of sports, and unless there's a miracle we probably already know the winner. Then they can all move on, and do it all again elsewhere.

Après Boris?

 

Having just watched Boris at PMQ's, it does look as if he is about to quit. The knives are out, and people are now 'seriously' looking to replace him.

It's a sad state of affairs as Boris, despite all his problems, is head and shoulders above most of The Young Turks who are out for blood.

However, there are plenty of heavyweights amongst the Tories. Gove, Sunak, Javid, Hunt, Zahawi, and my own favourite Penny Mordaunt. 

I just hope they choose the right woman for the job!

It's Obligatory.

On every single ex-pat table, at this time of year, you will find something similar to this (below). A big vase of Sunflars, a bowl of Olives, and a glass of Petrus or The Widow. The braying classes have temporarily quit their extensive Hampshire, Gloucestershire, or Dorset Estates for their little pile in Juan-les-Pins, Perigord, or Tuscany.

The wives all wear obligatory long silky diaphanous dresses and wide brimmed straw hats. They visit local markets where they speak in exceptionally loud voices whilst buying local delicacies at outrageous prices, and taste dainty samples of 'oh how delicious' Absinthe flavoured Alpaca Milk 'Brie'.

They exchange news about little Piers at Dragon, or Tarquin at Harrow. They talk of the new Georgian style extension to add another few bedrooms (only they're not sure how many) to their already enormous old manor houses. And they discuss tiny out-of-the-way, and still unheard-of, restaurants in darkest Gloucestershire where one can eat vegetable-foam for as little as £150 per person.

Yes, it's The Silly Season. The children have all been away in the Glasto' mud; Mrs Mop is looking after the house, whilst Mr Mop sees to the lawns and trims the topiary. Veronica pops in to feed Constance's horses and Penelope's ponies, the 'plumbing chappie' has been asked to service the boiler, and the 'roofing chappie' will look at the flashing around the main chimney on the Gate House.

They'll be back in a few weeks time, and life will continue as normal; all is well with the world.

 

Cleaning-up the Mess.

Out of sight, out of mind. There has always been an attitude amongst certain people that if some unwanted lump of metal is out of sight beneath the water, then all is OK. They can forget about it.

Then along comes caring folk like the Ocean Crusaders and they fish it all out again. Here they are on the Brisbane River taking out tons of discarded rubbish.

My daughter lives in Brisbane, and I'm proud of the fact that she gets involved with this very worthy movement.

Not all the rubbish has been wilfully thrown into the river, some is there as a result of recent flooding when over 20,000 homes were inundated and sadly many possessions swept away. 

These people do a really good and important job, my congratulations to all those who take part. It puts my collecting tiny bits of litter to shame. 

 

Decline and Fall: Redd4x - Rain ft. (Flyysoulja)

Are you fully aware of what your children, grandchildren, or even great grandchildren are listening to, watching, and possibly idolising? Here are The Island Boys once again to give some idea of what's out there.

Videos such as this are commonplace. They idolise violence, the destruction of language, crime, drugs, drug-dealing, and easy money. Rap styles such as Drill, Gangsta Rap, and Horrorcore, are designed to glorify everything that is alien to decency, learning, family values, and even the idea of employment. I don't wish to over-exaggerate this, but to the fragile mind this can be very dangerous. You only have to see how many Rap 'artists' end-up amongst the obituaries.

These two are, frankly, rather pathetic. They are pretending to be 'hard', but no-one is fooled. They'll probably come to a sticky end. I was very amused by their running like disabled Ducks, with their trousers falling down; anything but the hard gangsters they pretend to be.

If this is commonplace now, just imagine what the world may be subjected to in the future. I always said, when at school, that if The Beatles has sung a song about the conjugation of Latin Verbs (Amo, Amas, Amat, etc) that the country's youth would have learned them by heart. Music IS an extremely powerful tool.

May I suggest watching the video, then reading the lyrics afterwards. None of it makes sense, but they give an insight into a devious subculture.

Ya, i got the stick n all of the stick
N i show that a choppa it ra-ain
I got a bullet i got all the bullets
I show them they gra-ave, ya
I got a bitch and she bad
And she showing us ass, cause she making it rai-in, ya
Stick to my time n, i to keep it
Ar-15 and i spra-ay
I got codein prome-ethizine, inside of the trunk
I count up money, n yall could really see this blue in bulk
Iuh k-keep it on time, a nigga s-seen it
N now they star-struck
Keeping my time n they having some fun
While i be jus clapping the buns

Walk in the club then show them my time
And i just so fam-mous
I-ma just sing it, cause im from real gun-shine
Don't stay or you get to see uh the sun, yea-ah
Walk down on nigga, but i could just do it
Why they get so run, yеa-ah
Beggin us in it, waste all of my time
N thеy saying like niggas my son uh uhn
You gonna play, dis my time n i say, whats up oh blood-od
In this street they show to no love
You coulda sent it, lets go to get wrote
Ar 15 they play it like now
7 point 62 bullets right now

Ima just do it n show to my mamma
Lets make her just pro-oud
You better send it n im smoking uh gas
And its in it, is lou-ud, ya
You get to play with a 9, not every 10
Like n i said it again
You shoulda show us, but you don't bring friends
You show no nothing, no you show tha trend
You don't make everything, plan ain't no-seennse, ya
You don't make nothing, but you don't make nothing
But i came from nothing, and now i'm just something, ya
Yaa yaa now im a blessing, n yaa yaa having no set

Ya, i got the stick n all of the stick
N i show that a choppa it ra-ain
I got a bullet i got all the bullets
I show them they gra-ave, ya
I got a bitch and she bad
And she showing us ass, cause she making it rai-in, ya
Stick to my time n, i to keep it
Ar-15 and i spra-ay
I got codein prome-ethizine, inside of the trunk
I count up money, n yall could really see this blue in bulk
Iuh k-keep it on time, a nigga s-seen it
N now they star-struck
Keeping my time n they having some fun
While i be jus clapping the buns

{flyysoulja}
Im like ya run up, on all of them, n all of these ba-andz, ayy
All of these bitches they say that they love me
You kno-ow i be sagging
You just a want me to fuck you , cause you just a gas stop store, ya
Ima just with my brother, and we just day gaze, yaa
Im like im jus in miama, where my zaws at
We just on that gang, and we be on that gang, ya
Talk right, yea with six tight
N this bitch i got them sticks, aye
You know what it is, aye
All of my bitches they say that they love me
You know im living god, im just a blessing
You know i keep all, yahh ah
 

Release Date: September 21, 2020

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SoundCloud:

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Swimming.

 

I've always loved swimming, ever since I was quite small. At my Sussex Prep' School we were thrown in, and someone shouted "SWIM". If you didn't, somebody might have dived in to rescue you; but mostly boys did as they were advised. 

The pool at my Prep' School was quite large, but it was fed by a natural spring, and was not chlorinated or cleaned in any way. The water was permanently green, and there were often snakes, or ducks in it. It was always freezing, but we didn't care.

I've just come out of our pool as I write this. I've been very busy all morning, and a refreshing pre-lunch swim was perfect. I always do the same thing; 12 lengths, which is just over 100 metres. I usually do this 3 times a day. 

I cannot understand people who fail to learn to swim. Out here in the countryside it is quite common to find such people; surely, swimming is one of life's great pleasures.

One of my best swimming memories was from around 1959/60 in Puerto Soller, Majorca. Our hotel had a wonderful beach/pool/garden man. He was a man of 'small stature' (I'm not sure what we're supposed to call that these days), and would swim out into the bay, returning with half a dozen Octopi stuffed into his swim trunks. He was a wonderful man, and I used to love early morning swims in the pool whilst he swept tidied and gardened. I think his name was Emanuel.

These days my daily swims are for refreshment and exercise; mostly the latter. They do say it's one of the best forms of exercise; using all muscles. I don't really mind if the water is cold. Anything above 20C, and as long as there is sunshine, I'm in there splashing about.

What we DO NOT do is smother ourselves in sun cream, lounge about on the 'layabouts' drinking iced Pimm's through a Flamingo shaped straw, whilst wearing Hawaiian shirts. Nor do we scream when entering ice cold water!

For us, the pool is not a luxury item; it's essential. If one thinks of it as an extra room, and calculates the value of any extra room, a pool is a very good asset.

The Dumbing-Down of Lord's.

For those who know little or nothing of Cricket, the Lord's ground in St John's Wood, N W London is its spiritual home. It is in fact the home of the Marylebone Cricket Club, but is named after its founder Thomas Lord. The ground was opened in 1814.

Lord's is where all the country's most important Cricket matches are played. Test matches, County finals, and even prestigious School and University matches.

One particular schools match has been played there since its foundation, but was actually already being played ten years earlier. It involves Boris Johnson's old school against that of another Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. The two schools have always been sporting opponents. This annual 'grudge match' has been fought over since 1805.  

The MCC, in their superior wisdom, have now decided that in the name of egalitarianism, this match will no longer be played at Lord's. Instead they have instigated a Twenty/20 match which will be open to all Secondary Schools, with the final being played at Lord's instead of the one played for the past two centuries.

The traditional 200 year old annual match will, of course, continue and in future will be played at the Wormsley Estate in Oxfordshire; in fact the site of their very first rivalry match back in 1805, which featured Lord Byron.

All I can add is that I do hope that both these schools will also take part in the new competition, and do well enough to face each other in the final. Otherwise the last game of its sort was played just a few days ago on June 28th 2022. Churchill's alma mater won! 

I wonder if they are planning to stop the annual Oxbridge match as well? The Boat Race maybe? Where will this 'egalitarian' dumbing-down stop?

Poor old Blighty; high standards are no longer welcome.

39.08! McMurtry fan car breaks Goodwood Hill RECORD! | Festival of Speed...

If, like me, you were watching the Goodwood Festival of Speed on TV last Sunday, you will probably have seen this (below).

Forget all the Porsches, Ferraris, Astons, etc, this McMurtry beat the lot of them. It sounds like a jet engine car, but in fact it's an electric car with a fan-driven system, and faster than any F1 or Indy car.

I'd not heard the name McMurtry before, but it's all-English, an English driver, and made in Gloucestershire. Well done to all involved. Amazing car.