A few pictures of Brighton.

There was some frost on top of the nearby cars yesterday morning, so it was out with the 'Polar Fleece' and gloves. Here are a few photos of Brighton in warmer times, for those who may not know my lovely city.

Above is the beautiful Bandstand on the beach. Built in 1884, it's a focal point along the promenade, and very popular with newlyweds for their wedding pix.

The Brighton Pavilion doesn't need much introduction. Built very centrally in town, it was the seaside second-home of The Prince of Wales, The Prince Regent, who late became King George IV. It dates from 1787. Simply gorgeous.

And here is just a tiny section of 'The Lanes'. The old fishing village area of Brighton now filled with cafés, restaurants, antique shops, pubs, jewelers, etc. The perfect spot for a leisurely stroll on a warm Summer's day.

There's so much more, but I'll leave that for another day.

Fashion?

I have always thought (maybe mistakenly) that fashion should enhance the look of either the women or men who wear stylish clothes. Traditionally women are supposed to look the shape of an hour-glass, and men the shape of a carrot or parsnip. The clothes they wear should normally enhance that.

But these days, all that seems to have been waylaid. In these days of gender fluidity, one is more likely to see the promotion of men's clothes for women, and women's clothes for men.

Figure hugging, sexual stereotyping, and flattery is despised by many of the new wave of Woke trans designers. They like to see androgenous models, and his-n-hers styles. Good old fashioned male/female delimitation is frowned-upon.   

I have to say that if I invited a young lady out for the evening, and she turned-up looking like the above; I'd head for home. No thanks!

What are these people thinking???

 

UK Farming.

 

Dear UK Farmers.

I simply want to let you know that I am 100% behind your actions.

I wish you all the best, Cro xx

Jean-Louis Aubert - Merveille (Live)

One of the biggest French bands of the mid to late 70's (that you've never heard of) was called Téléphone.

The oldest son of my next door neighbours (FR) was their manager, and the Téléphone lads, and lass, would come down from Paris for weekends in the countryside. They became part of the scene of our tiny 3 house hamlet.

FR later went on to manage Marianne Faithful, who also used to visit, which is why she came to my 50th birthday Party. Oh yes!

Téléphone were as big a French pop band as they could possibly get, they were France's very own version of The Beatles; but without the same talent.

The band broke-up in 1985 or 86 (I think), and the singer Jean-Louis Aubert went his own way with a very successful solo career. He became France's version of Mick Jagger.

This is one of his better songs (give it time).

I was very surprised to hear this track on English radio recently. It was chosen by Celia Imrie on the short Radio 4 Extra programme called 'Inheritance Tracks'. Imrie, like me, is a serious Francophile, and the track brought back wonderful memories for her.

I only saw Téléphone live once, and frankly I wasn't too impressed. For an Englishman it was all very tame and a tad dull. Of course, the French LOVED them.

Hives of Activity.

 

You can imagine my surprise when I encountered a man in full Bee-Keepers outfit coming out from behind the church. The hives are in a fenced-off area, I don't know if you can see them, it's a terrible photo. 

I'm used to encountering hives in France, in amongst the Chestnut trees, but I'd not known them to be placed behind the church before; especially at this time of year.

I wouldn't have thought that there was much pollen out there at the moment for the bees, but whatever there is; they'll find it.

I wonder if they'll be selling 'St Nicholas Church Honey' at some time later? I will definitely buy some if they do. I shall have a word with Father D.

Winter Pickles.

It's that time of year again.  I need to begin making my pickles for Christmas.

I always do my Onions reasonably early. They benefit from being in vinegar for at least a month.

I use a very simple, hit-n-miss, method. I almost fill with vinegar, add a few dried chili flakes, a couple of good soup-spoons of Sugar, then top-up the final few milliliters with water (2%).  

                                    

I shall do my Pickled Red Cabbage about a week before Christmas. Unlike the Onions, they don't require the same amount of 'maturing'. 

Nearer the big day I will also prepare some Onion and Cucumber Pickle. This is sliced onion layered with sliced Cucumber, then semi-preserved in a sweet pickle mix. It doesn't last, so it is prepared one or two days before needed.

I'm getting there!

Haddock's End (a.k.a. 'Haddock's)

My old veg' patch went through many changes over the years. Here is an old drawing from 2007 showing all the varieties of the fruit trees, etc. Haddock's is on the extreme left, showing its original three section layout. I originally used the whole area of the little plot.

Over the years it changed into a more manageable four section plot, which made annual rotation much easier.

                             

It stayed like this right through to when I was forced to abandon my growing. Something happened, and my plants began to die, I have a feeling that poisons were seeping through from a new building detritus dump on my 'builder' neighbour's side of the wall. Nothing would grow as before, and I was eventually forced to abandon it.

The same neighbour's dogs killed all my hens as well.

I really miss Haddock's. It provided all our vegetables, both fresh and preserved. It was highly productive, and I loved it. There was never a day, in either Summer or Winter, when there wasn't something to eat.

These days it is simply home to several fruit trees, lots of grape vines, and a few Artichoke plants. I am still thinking about what we'll do with the small area. My favourite current idea is to create a party area, with a summerhouse and BBQ; plus a few more Peach trees. I even planned to take some electricity down there for night-time lighting. But, somehow, I doubt if it'll ever happen.

Comrade Putin.

In terms of the world's most evil people, this man must currently be securely placed at No 1.

His illegal invasion of Ukraine, and all the subsequent killing and destruction, has ensured his place amongst the most evil tyrants the world has ever known.

Latest figures from the war front suggest that Russia is losing 1,500 soldiers EVERY DAY as they advance metre by metre. On one recent day the toll rose to 1,770. The death-count is appalling, yet he seems untroubled. The total Russian loss of life so far during this war is over 710,000. When he runs out, he simply gets more cannon-fodder in from other countries, such as N Korea.

Much to Kim Yong Un's annoyance, many of his loaned troupes were wiped out recently whilst advancing towards Alaya Loknya.

In the Middle East the Israeli's had little problem locating, and killing, the leaders of Hamas and Hezbollah. One really would have thought that something similar could be done in Russia.

This man is single-handedly dragging his country into the mire; and for what?

Surely the Russian people must soon turn against him. The death toll is horrific, and all in the name of occupying a country that they're doing their best to reduce to rubble.

In my book that amounts to complete and utter evil and stupidity.

Bloody roads!

Here in the UK we're all used to potholes, roadworks, and weeds growing all over our roads and pavements.

We pay £190 per annum in Road Tax for our cars, plus of course Tax on Petrol/Diesel. With around 41 Million cars on our UK roads, the Road Tax alone brings in nearly £8 Billion.

This sign (below) was seen here in Brighton. Some scallywag has made his opinion very clear.

Regardless of all this money going into the coffers, they seem unable to look after our roads properly.

Maybe we should ALL refuse to pay our Road Taxes, buy a few bags of DIY Tarmac from B & Q, and go fill in all the potholes ourselves. We could have the country pothole-free after just a day or so.

There are simply too many cars and too many people living on this small island. I am still avoiding potholes that I've been avoiding for several years. 

They simply do not care!

 

Gap Year

 

It's been 30 years to the day since my daughter, Tenpin, flew off to Bangkok with her friend Karen to begin their gap year tour of the world.

I don't know how many countries she visited, but it was lots. She was away for about a year.

Like all young gap year travelers, she worked her way as she went. Picking Tomatoes here, and Baby Sitting there. She did whatever came her way to pay her passage. Not once did she write home for funds.

She recently posted a load of photos on Facebook from her trip, amongst which was her passport photo (above) from the time.

She loved Australia so much that she now lives there, and has done for over 20 years.

THAT Single Malt.

 

I've decided that I will grit my teeth and finish the dreadful tar-flavoured bottle of Single Malt that I bought about a year ago. There's not a lot left, but in my constant battle against waste, I see it as my duty to finish it, and not use it as drain cleaner.

My daughter-in-Law, Suzie, was here the other evening and I asked her to taste it. She was as shocked as I was that such things were actually on sale; and at a serious price.

Anyway, I'm holding my nose and having a few sips every evening before bed. I'm treating it as medicine, although I have no idea what ailment it could possibly treat.

I've decided NOT to buy my annual bottle of Single Malt this winter, instead I've bought myself a bottle of Rum, a bottle of Tawny Port, and a bottle of Amontillado Sherry; none of which has yet been broached.

The Aerstone Single Malt hasn't improved over the past few months, it still tastes of tar. However, I'm determined not to tip it down the sink, and will endure the pain. It should be all gone well before Christmas.

Our animals.

I love this photo. I'd been trying for years to get the dogs to be friendly with our cat.

Bok (the dog) was OK with Freddie (the cat), but Freddie wasn't too keen on either Bok, or our Lab' Monty. Fred had been with us prior to the dogs' arrivals, and he considered himself 'The Boss'. The dogs were interlopers.

I have always liked the idea of a cat snuggling-up with the dogs to keep warm (or just for friendship), but this was never to be. They tolerated each other, but no more.

We don't realise how much our pets mean to us until they are no longer there. Poor Bok died on the operating table after a huge tumour was found on his Spleen. The Vet' decided not to revive him. It came as a huge shock, and I missed him terribly.

I knew Freddie wasn't well. He'd stopped eating, and was drinking a lot more than usual. One evening he curled-up on the sofa by my side, and went to sleep. Somehow I knew that I would never see him either awake or alive again. I stayed with him for an hour or so as he slept, then the next morning I found him dead.  I think it was how he wanted it to be.

I can't imagine living without either a dog or cat in the house; preferably both. However, losing them is dreadful. 

Luckily Billy is well, and at just 6 years old I'm hoping there's plenty of life in him yet.

 

Puffin.

 

This (below) is a bench dedicated to the memory of my old friend Puffin. I go past it twice every day whilst walking with Billy. Occasionally I sit and reminisce.

Puffin (a.k.a Peter Powell-Stevens) worked in the realm of 'The Arts'. I never asked him exactly what he did, but I think it was something to do with photography.

Sadly his marriage came to a sudden end and he quit the family home, which was at the end of our street. He wandered 'aimlessly' around Brighton, and to all intents he became a homeless tramp. On one occasion he even asked me for a few quid, which I was happy to provide.

To keep warm and comfortable he would often travel on busses; his favourites being the ones that went on a continuous circuit around Brighton, where he could hide away in a corner and go round and round all day long.

On one such excursion he died. No-one noticed; they simply thought he was sleeping.

Yes, poor old Puffin died on the No 7 bus, and no-one noticed.

RIP Puffin.

Uggs

I'd forgotten all about my Ugg boots.

I recently found this photo (below) and showed it to Lady M.

"I wonder whatever happened to my Uggs?" I asked.

"They're in your Shoe Cupboard" she replied; with a 'What a Plonker' look on her face.

Five minutes later she came downstairs holding my Uggs. "There you are" she said in frustration " they were where you left them after last Winter!".

Right. Roll on cold weather, I'm now prepared for whatever Mother Nature may throw at me.

I have warm jumpers, my silly Russian style 'Ushanka' hat, and now I have my cosy Uggs. It's already feeling cooler, and I'm almost looking forward to it getting cold.  

How could I have possibly forgotten my Uggs?

 

Is there any such thing as a 'Free Lunch'?

I know that there are still 7 weeks to go, but I thought I'd preempt a 'Bird Flu' shortage, and buy my (frozen) Turkey in advance. 

As you can probably see, it's just under 4 kilos, will feed up to ten people, and it's a Free Range Bronze turkey; just the type I like.

I think we'll be SIX for Christmas Dinner this year, so this will be perfect; with plenty left over for curry, sandwiches, and stock. A good sensibly sized bird.

I can remember my mother once buying a 27 lb bird that was so big it wouldn't fit into our oven; she had to cut its back off. I don't see any point in huge birds; three days of Turkey is enough for anyone.

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without the Turkey, roast Spuds, and a few Sprouts. The wonderful aroma of a roasting Turkey accompanying our present opening, takes me back to my earliest Christmas memories, and has remained the same ever since. 

My Sainsbury's Loyalty card (Nectar) had amassed £25, and the bird cost exactly £25. In my book that's a free lunch. Thank you Mr Sainsbury; we shall eat/drink to your health on the big day!

p.s. I notice that Christmas adverts have started appearing on TV; far too early! Despite my recent purchase above, I think all commercialisation of Christmas should be banned until at the earliest, Dec' 15th.

 

Trump wins!

 

I have to say that I was not at all surprised at Trump's electoral success; Lady M, however, was shocked.

I cannot claim to have any insight into US politics, but elections are won and lost on TRUST, and it does seem very strange that (even with a convicted felon candidate) the electorate still found Trump more trustworthy than Harris.

With the help of all those celebs and dancing girls, Harris couldn't convince the people that she would make a decent President. Trump may be arrogant and megalomanic, but I presume that he says what Americans want to hear. I very much doubt if he'll manage to expel all those foreign criminals he talks of, much as we over here can't stop illegal immigrants sailing across the Channel in rubber boats. Some things trip easily off the tongue, but in practice it's not so easy.

So what can the world look forward to? Trump has made many promises. He is anti-Abortion, he wishes to install serious protective tariffs on imports; especially from China. He wants to finish building his infamous wall, stop immigrants eating cats, reorganise the Health System, he wants to cut taxes, to stop the Russia/Ukraine war, and re-introduce Patriotism into state schools; amongst many other things. He has promised to 'Fix Everything'.

All this sounds perfectly laudable, and no doubt Harris would agree with a few of his aims. It now remains to be seen how much of his manifesto gets put into action.

Our new Foreign secretary, David Lammy, has been insulting Trump in the most forceful manner over the past few years, so our relations with the USA are off to a jolly good start. Well done Lammy!

The population of the USA is roughly 346 Million, you really would have thought that there would have been a few better candidates around; but who am I to criticise!

The Spy in the Kitchen.

 

It does seem that a lot of what we buy these days comes from China. I know that their economy isn't doing too well at the moment, but that isn't for their want of trying.

When I look at labels, invariably it says 'Made in China', even our beloved MG cars are now Chinese.

But this isn't as innocent as it may appear. For a long time it has been suggested that major Chinese high-tech installations are filled with hidden programming that sends information back to China. It has also been suggested that at the touch of a Chinese button, certain essential services could be totally closed down. 

But it gets even worse. I now read that your innocent looking Chinese made Air Fryer is listening to all your kitchen conversations. These are beamed back to China, listened to, analysed, and information gathered.

So, if you have one, may I suggest that you give your fryer some false information.

Whisper into its ear "I hear that Taiwan is going to attack China", or "Xi Jinping is a UK spy", or "Next week Russia intends to release a new Covid variant over Beijing".

You can't trust anyone these days! 

Scissor Services.

Kimbo doesn't seem to have opened any supermarkets, high-rise apartment blocks, or suspension bridges recently, and I wanted to know why.

Has the supply of ribbon dried up? Are no new supermarkets being built? Are his services simply no longer required? 

He didn't seem to know why either. He always came free of charge, provided his own transport, and didn't even demand a Champagne lunch.

I suspect his lack of scissor work is because he isn't blonde with 'ample assets'. However, I've advised him to put his name on the 'I cut ribbons.com' website, and wait for offers to roll in.  

Anyway, we've just had breakfast together, where he told me all about a recent visit to Berkshire. He apparently gave a lecture to a very large university audience. So, someone still wants him.

Back to the day job Kimbo! He's off to Singapore any day; meetings, meetings, meetings!

How pleased I am to have been a lowly painter.

 

Autumn

We've been back from France for just two months. When we returned the trees were still covered in fresh green leaves, today they are nearly bare.

I do like this time of year, more to look at than to walk in; although our weather is still very mild with above 10 C temperatures, and some sunshine almost every day.

The 'Peace Garden', where I go twice a day, and Billy goes four times a day, is really beautiful in Autumn. I think old graveyards are at their best with fallen leaves and bare trees. There should be an aura of sadness in old graveyards, and Autumn gives us that.

I usually go for our first walk of the day at around 7.30 am, and often the garden is empty. It is so peaceful, with just us, a few Pigeons, and some Squirrels for company. Perfect.

 

Britain's most famous dish.

Ask any foreigner 'What is Britain's most famous dish?', and they will invariably reply 'Fish and chips'.

It's years since I've had pukka chip shop 'Fish-n-chips'. We do have fish and chips every Friday, but it's either fresh Salmon or Fish Fingers with a few oven ready potato wedges.

However, we decided recently to spoil ourselves, and Kimbo picked-up enough for three at our nearest chippie.

It was particularly good. Not too greasy, plenty of chips, and a good sized piece of Cod. Delicious.

I think next weekend we might have a Chinese! I've been really looking forward to a Chinese take-away for ages. I think we've now found the right place.

F*ck Farmers.

Our recent Labour Party's disastrous budget (their first in 14 years), had a number of nasty elements; the worst of which was an attack on our farmers.

Small family owned farms have been the backbone of British food-producing since Adam.

Passing-on the family farm from Father to Son/Daughter, free of inheritance tax, has meant that there has been a continuity in the quality and standard of UK food production.

But now, dear Rachel Reeves (who has probably never visited a family-run farm in her life) has decided that all this must end. All farms valued over £1Million will now attract 20% inheritance tax when passed-on.

Most small farms just about make ends meet, any profit usually goes on new equipment or infrastructure. Most also live with huge amounts of debt. There would be nothing left for a massive tax bill, making it obligatory for the beneficiary to sell-up. The knock-on effect of this tax will be disastrous.

I would like to suggest that the fragrant Ms Reeves watches the BBC TV programme 'This Farming Life' which shows exactly how strenuous life can be. We should be grateful to our farmers, not kick them in the boll*cks.

This Socialist policy is possibly the most disastrous of all their budget horrors. It will effect every one of us. Less food will be grown here, we will need to import more, and those who were doing a really good job for their country will end-up twiddling their thumbs. Smaller farms will, in future, end-up as home to little Penelope's Ponies and Alpacas.

When Labour promised not to tax 'working people', did they really think that farmers don't work? Farming involves skills that are passed from generation to generation, and you take all that away at your peril.

But don't be too depressed. No doubt a different party will reverse this shortly.

What on earth were Labour thinking!

Gin Club

Lady Magnon is a sociable, and gregarious, person. There is nothing she enjoys more than nattering with friends, and making new acquaintances.

As soon as we returned to England last September she immediately took-up her rightful place amongst the other 'Friday Night Club' members who live hereabouts (she was a founding member).

They are all women, and they gather in the house of one member or another, usually on Friday nights. They collectively put the world to rights, and no doubt moan about the men who share their lives (ahem). They also partake of their favourite tipples; I'm sure you get the picture.

These three above are NOT actually members, I believe they are Keith Richards' three younger sisters.

The FNC soon became known as 'The Gin Club'; need I explain why! We menfolk just despair and head for the pub' where we discuss knitting patterns, and admire photographs of Poodles and Yorkies. 

Atomic Mars

Life on Mars. If it's anything like this, I might think of going!

When boys become men.

 

Take two teenage brothers in nice suits and some hard-earned cash in the bank; and what do they do?

When they told me that they were going to New York, somehow I imagined that they would be going with their father. But no!

They're using their own saved money, they've booked everything themselves, and they're off on their very first real big adventure together. A week in NY, seeing the sights, eating burgers, plus a visit to the Guggenheim. It's all been well planned in advance. 

For one whole post-election week, their studies in Cambridge will be put on hold, and they will immerse themselves in American life. I think they arrive in NY on election day, so it's anyone's guess who will be in The White House during their visit.

Frankly, at their age, I don't think I would have been too comfortable going to NY with a friend (or brother), but I was never the adventurous type. I just hope they stay safe. They're very used to traversing and enjoying London by themselves, so I have confidence in them.

The world seems much smaller to today's youth. Nothing is beyond them. I'm very much looking forward to a few trans-pond WhatsApp calls.

The working man.

I used to be a full time painter, but not these days. I don't even have a studio any more.

The top photo was a Brighton studio shot that my agent took. He wanted a publicity photo showing me hard at work. I hope his other pictures were better than this, and didn't have that flash reflection on them.

This is another picture that he took, when I was showing with a British Gas touring Exhibition. I'm afraid they're both photos of photos.

I had my moments as a painter, but a few unwise personal decisions meant that I was never going to become well known, or sell lots. Maybe my work wasn't good enough anyway.

I have lost my desire to paint these days, although I still enjoy drawing. I can't see myself taking it up again, other than drawing Billy from time to time.

Pondering.

 

Sometimes I sit here, in front of my laptop, trying to think about what, if anything, I will write about. Will it be about something that makes me happy, or will it be about something that drives me bonkers. I'm equally driven to write about both.

As I get ever older, I do tend to think back more to past times, past events, and past delights. The present hasn't offered too many pleasures, in fact in recent times it has done the opposite. My failing mobility, a few unpleasant encounters, and old age (I'm 78), have slightly tarnished an otherwise pleasant life, but I try not to let them dominate.

At the other end of my laptop are people I care and worry about. We recently lost dear Weaver, and the bravery of Yael is often in my thoughts. Blogging is not a young person's activity; I imagine we are young-at-heart, middle-aged, and upwards. Blog writers are more likely to have health problems than ones 'of the heart'.

My favourite subjects of the moment are food (I'm a true foodie at heart), and the vagaries of those who attempt to rule us. I must say that I despair when I see certain people in positions of power who didn't even pass their 11+, let alone their Common Entrance. I enjoy (if that's the right word) writing about both.

Writing is addictive. At 5.30 am each morning (after breakfast) I am perched in front of the keyboard  just waiting to write about something that's been on my mind. I can't see that changing. I'm sure many others do the same.

So, just occasionally nothing specific comes to mind as subject matter, and I sit here twiddling my fingers and thinking that I might as well take Billy for a walk. After that I tend to have a clearer mind, and I feel more like having my say!

Something is bound to cross my mind!

Popaul.

This photo of me, Lady M, and Kimbo, was taken in the French village of Beaumont du Périgord. We had just eaten a hearty meal, and were about to go dancing at the local hop.

The restaurant where we had just eaten was probably one of the world's greatest. It was generally known as 'Chez Popaul', but was officially called the 'Hotel des Voyageurs'.

It was situated about 50 kms away, making a 100 km round journey. We went on several occasions, and it was worth every kilometer. Sadly it closed quite a while back.

It was said that Germans would fly into nearby Bergerac, just to eat there, then fly home again. I can believe that.

The sumptuousness of the food was legendary. Like most French restaurants, the ambiance was basic, but we weren't there for the décor.

We would always start with a Lobster Bisque soup which was out of this world, then a Plateau de Fruits de Mer (similar to above) which was a huge meal in itself, Then either a steak or Confit. A wonderful selection of desserts, and a cheeseboard fit for a king. Such restaurants will never again see the light of day. Some may offer one or two of the courses, but a similar whole menu is a thing of the past.

It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't overly expensive either. Oh how I miss it.

That particular evening, there just happened to be a Fête in the village square, so we had a twirl or two.

RIP Chez Popaul.

 

'Working People'.

 

I didn't vote at the last election, simply because where I vote there was absolutely no point. I'm not a supporter of hard-left politics, but, like many others, I was always willing to give Labour a chance.

But dear Sir Keir 'freebie' Starmer is really starting to get people's backs up. He has now stated that people who own 'Shares, Property, and Savings' are not 'Working People'.

Yes you did read that correctly, and that's exactly what he said.

Of course, his statement has come under instant criticism from all quarters, as so often happens, but this time it's really hit home. What the hell was he thinking? Actually, it sounds as if he wasn't thinking!

How does he think that people (like him) obtain their shares, property, and savings? By sitting around on their backsides? According to official records, even 42 of his own Labour MP's own rental properties. Are they not 'working people'?

No, these people get where they are BY WORKING of course! These are people who probably work a bloody sight harder than most of his beloved civil servants or Union members, They are people who risk their own capital, who work all hours, and who probably employ people. These are the people who should be praised, encouraged, and nurtured; not treated like a cash-cow. In his party manifesto, Starmer promised not to raise taxes for working people, but he seems to have changed his mind. It seems that 'hard working people' are no longer 'working people'. We simply can't trust him.

Next Wednesday (I think), we will see the true extent of Labour's venom against the wealth makers of this country. As far as we can predict, they will make life much more difficult for 'employers'.

What have they got against 'enterprise'!

Growing-up in a foreign country

 

When I first went to live in France in 1973, I had two small children (above). Kimbo must have been about 3, and Tenpin about 1. At that age they didn't really know that they were in a different country.

All they knew was they had a lovely big house to live in, with plenty of old straw-filled barns and land. Along with Hamlet, our dog, they were in paradise.

Lady Magnon had moved around a lot when she was young, from Moscow, to Caracas, to Washington DC, to Porto Rico, etc; but maybe not in that order. She later returned to school in England.

The children soon settled in, and it wasn't long before they started at the nearby Maternelle (Infants school). At first the mini Kimbo spoke in Gibberish, that's how he heard them speaking, so he replied in the same way. However, it wasn't too long before he began to speak fluent French, and soon became confident in being bilingual. My daughter did much the same a couple of years later.

Our local roofer's wife was the school cook, and both children really enjoyed their lunchtime meals. I often asked Kimbo what he'd eaten, and invariable he'd reply "Flat meat". I imagine this was any form of thinly sliced meat. 

They stayed at school in France for several years, before returning to continue in England.

My third child was born in France but never got to immerse himself into the French school system. He speaks various languages, including French, but none was learned in the same way as his siblings.

I think their early upbringing was wonderful, and I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Tenpin, then and now.

I wonder if you can see the similarity between these two pictures. The one above was painted when she was about 3 or 4. The photo below, was taken considerably later.

Personally I don't think that she's changed too much, but maybe that's a father's view.

 

She was a very good sitter, and sat still for about 20 minutes; just enough to paint the face. The rest I did later.

When I painted a portrait of young Kimbo, aged about 2, he was quite a good sitter too. I failed to finish his picture and it remains half unpainted. However, he now looks nothing like how he did when he was small; so no point doing a comparison.

Yahya Sinwar

I imagine that anyone living as Sinwar did, hiding in bunkers, moving around underground corridors with his plastic bag of possessions, etc, must know that he is being sought-after for a very good reason. He must have known that his days were numbered.

You cannot head a vile terrorist group without knowing that there is a price on your head, and that that price will soon have to be paid.

Bad people know that they are bad people. Those who live their lives correctly and with respect for others, have no need to hide.

But as we all now know, if you live by the sword, you will die by the sword, and Sinwar knew that too.

Although he did eventually get his comeuppance, there are plenty of others who wish to replace him, and will in turn meet their own ends. At this very moment they are hiding away in other fox-holes, living the life of the hunted, and daring not show their faces in public.

Film has also now emerged of Sinwar's wife in the same tunnel as her husband, carrying a £25,000 Birkin Bag (whatever that is). Yasser Arafat was probably the biggest embezzler of Hamas/PLO funds, and it looks as if the habit is continuing. When Sinwar's body was found, allegedly with him was found 'Millions of Israeli Sheckles'. These millionaire terrorists don't deprive themselves. It must be great to live off money kindly donated to the people of Gaza.

It's a strange way to live, but some choose to live that way, causing misery to millions; and they have to be dealt with.

N.B. I now hear that the replacement head of Hezbollah, Hashem Safieddine, has also been eliminated. I can't imagine there'll be much of a queue wishing to take his place; although the huge wealth that comes with the job must be tempting.

 

Bully Beef

I'm not quite prepared to re-acquaint myself with SPAM, as yet; that's a step too far!

However, I felt reasonably confident buying this small tin of Corned Beef, with the idea of seeing if it tasted anything like how I remember it from my childhood.

I was amused to see that the tin still has that bizarre key system for opening. It worked perfectly.

So, what exactly is Corned Beef? As far as I remember it is Beef Brisket cured in brine, before being coarsely minced and tinned. Most of the world's production comes from S America; Brazil in particular.

I was rather looking forward to tasting this strange old-fashioned product, and opened it for lunch when I returned from my shopping trip. Lady M turned-up her nose, and refused to taste it.

Personally I found it rather disappointing. It was ground finer than I remember, and didn't have much flavour. It wasn't at all as I remember it, but that could be on account of the maker. I don't think mother used to buy 'Princes'. I'm sure the one she bought had a picture of a bull on the label; Fray Bentos maybe?

Verdict: 3/10. I shan't buy it again

p.s. I had a small amount of Corned Beef left over in the fridge, and decided to have it fried for my next morning's breakfast, with one rasher of bacon, and a fried egg.

The Corned Beef was really awful and I had to chuck it.

Revised verdict: 0/10. Horrible. It made me think of dog food.

Brighton, as you may not know it.

Here is local boy, Norman, playing records on the beach for some of his friends back in 2002.

Looked like fun!

Early release

So, here they are the little darlings. Sir Freebie Starmer has released another 1,000 criminals from prison, on his clever scheme to reduce numbers behind bars.

Here are a few yesterday being picked-up in their Bentleys, Mercs, and Lambos. They look happy don't they. One was even heard shouting "Cheers Starmer".

Now they can all get back to what they do best.... whatever that is! 

And I think we all know, don't we boys and girls.

 

They're 'avin a larf.

 

Regular readers will know that I've been very worried about the future of our wonderful NHS. I think our new Minister of Health and Social Care, Wes Streeting above with Keir Starmer, should take note.

The Freedom of Information Act has recently revealed the serious extent that Health Tourism is having on the NHS finances. If any political party wants to help the NHS, they should really take this problem seriously.

I often speak of the terrible waste of money in our National Health Service. We have far too many overpaid 'managers' who seem to spend money like water. And we all know that the system is being hugely abused by foreigners who fly into the UK specifically for free treatment.

We are now told that Health Tourism is costing the NHS a minimum of £100,000 a day. It has become a running joke in Southern A & E depts that foreign nationals turn up direct from Gatwick or Heathrow, complete with suitcases and travel bags. Most don't speak English and simply point at what they need to have 'fixed'.

Why doesn't one of those expensive bloody 'managers' tell them they have to pay-up first; a simple triage system at the A & E front door could stop these tourists at once. I've had to pay up-front in France even though I lived there; why shouldn't these people who visit England have to do the same? 

There was a very famous case back in 2016, when a Nigerian woman called Priscilla (above) came direct from the airport to have quadruplets. The births and her after-care cost the NHS £500,000; not one penny of which was ever repaid. She really should have been detained until she, or her government, paid-up. She was just one of thousands, or tens of thousands, who come each year. One imagines that Priscilla simply flew home to Nigeria again once she was given the go-ahead. No wonder she's smiling in the photo!

I'm informed that the missing moneys could have paid for 5,500 Student Doctors, or 6,000 Nurses, or 30,000 Hip Replacements. The new Labour Government, and Wes Streeting in particular, may like to tackle this problem.

It's all very nice to say what a liberal and welcoming country we are, but when we know that our liberalism is being abused on such a massive scale, and our dear NHS apparently on the verge of collapse, isn't it time to say enough is enough! 

The propaganda about the Tories ruining the NHS was a good vote winner for Labour, but the reality is that the Tories were spending record amounts on health amidst striking doctors, incompetent managers, and unbelievable waste. 

Pull your bloody fingers out!

Amazon (the online shop).

I know I probably shouldn't, but I have found myself buying a lot more via Amazon recently than I did in the past. For someone with limited mobility, it's a godsend; but, at the same time, I know it's harming our High Street shops. 

I always used to be very wary about giving my bank details to some unknown person at the end of my laptop. I imagined that I would be left penniless almost at once; but with Amazon so far so good.

Since I was a student I have always worn the same style of shoes. Pale beige suede 'desert boots'; as above. My current pair are wearing thin, and I couldn't find a replacement anywhere, other than on Amazon. Buying clothes, or shoes, by mail order is problematical. I think I know my shoe size, and Lady M has promised to return them if they don't fit. My fingers are crossed.

N.B. The shoes have now arrived several days early, and they're fine! Here they are (below) being 'worn-in'. Soft suede shoes need to be 'run-in' for a few weeks before they become really comfortable.

I also recently bought a new Coffee grinder. I have no idea what happened to the old one.

The solar powered, movement activated light at the front of the house has failed. It was quite old, so not surprising. I bought two new ones, one of which I immediately installed; it doesn't seem to work. I shall tinker with it, and if necessary I'll replace it with the second one.

I do crosswords, and recently bought THREE 400 page books. They'll keep me going for quite a while. I complete about 4 or 5 a day.

I've bought other things, including some 'Compression Socks', and various pairs of reading and distance glasses. 

Last year Lady M's iPad cover fell to bits. The first two I ordered didn't fit, so were chucked (I couldn't be bothered to send them back). The third time was lucky, and it is still giving service.

I do also occasionally buy food on Amazon. I've bought tins of Haggis, Flageolet beans, Fray Bentos pies, and Pease Pudding. All were good.

There have been other bits and pieces, and I'm sure there'll be more. I do feel slightly guilty using Amazon, but where would we now be without it!

Amazon is one of the world's greatest success stories of recent times, and I suppose I've played a very minor part in their success. I'm not certain if this is a good or bad thing.

Routine

When putting my socks on in the mornings, I ALWAYS put the left one on first.

The more I think about it, the more I realise that I live by quite strict routine. The time I get up every morning, the time I have lunch, the times I take Billy for his walks; all are preordained and strictly adhered to. It's a way of life that dates back to school days, when lack of punctuality was rewarded by a good flogging.

If it was possible to take a film of my life, and another two weeks later, or even a year later, and they were then superimposed, they would hardly differ. I'm that dedicated to routine. Sometimes I look at my life and think 'I did exactly the same things yesterday'.

I happen to think that there's something comforting about knowing exactly when you will do certain things, and I know I'm not alone. On my regular Saturday morning shopping trips, I see the exact same people in the same check-out queue, I notice their exact same purchases, and I see their cars parked in exactly the same spots. They are creatures of habit; just like me.

I suppose the world can be divided into those who organise their lives and those who don't. The disorganised folk must find life much more difficult; never knowing what they're doing next. The organised folk don't have to think of such things, it comes naturally.

A good example of my organisation must be my weekly shopping trip to my regular out-of-town Sainsbury's. My shopping list is perfectly arranged to follow the products from where I enter (fruit-n-veg), through all the other departments, and on to the far side wine department. The list is always perfectly planned, starting at the top and continuing down to payment time, and I pick-up my bits and pieces in a natural flow. That way I avoid any unnecessary visits to aisles that might otherwise tempt me.

Routine suits me very well.

My TV choices.

 

Without a garden to tend, I have more time on my hands in the cooler months, so, if I don't have a decent book to read, I do watch a bit of TV. 

My taste in TV is quite limited. I don't watch violent programmes, or disaster movies, or soaps where they do nothing but shout at each in 'estuary' accents. In fact there's very little that I do regularly watch (other than The News and PMQ's).

I do like The Repair Shop, even though they're mostly repeats. I quite like DIY SOS, even though they're also all repeats. I really enjoy Drew Pritchard's 'Salvage Hunters'. I enjoy all Rick Stein shows. I sometimes watch 'Escape to the Country', but seldom watch more than 10 mins. That's about it. I think they're all repeats.

There's a new Archeological show on BBC2 (Digging Britain?), but it's very slow and rarely of any real interest. 

Strangely I do rather like seeing old barn-find vehicles being restored, and there is a programme that caters. I think it's called Shed-n-Buried. The content is interesting, but the presenter is a plonker. 

There seems to be far too many repeats on TV at the moment, but none of which interest me too much. If we're going to have endless repeats, why not a re-run of Ab-Fab or Lovejoy? We used to have such good short plays or sit-coms; these have now all gone.