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.
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!
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'!
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
I thought it must be April 1st when I read that in Scotland they have been running trials of 'ELECTRIC WALLPAPER'.
The wallpaper, it seems, is pasted on the ceilings, and is somehow plugged into the mains. My first thought was that heat rises, so why not paste it on the floors. Maybe it IS April 1st after all.
I do remember seeing an edition of the UK TV programme 'Tomorrow's World' where they talked of personallised central heating. Some form of microwave (I imagine) followed you around your home, and kept your body warm, rather than heating the whole house around you. It was hailed as the future of heating, but I never heard any more about it. Maybe all the human Guinea-pigs died.
I'm not over-keen on central heating; I'd much prefer an open fire or wood-burner. We did recently turn on our heating for half a day, just to make sure it still worked, but it was turned off again as soon as possible. It hasn't been cold here yet, and we'll stick to our 'thermals' and extra jumpers as needs arise. Central heating will be a last resort. Our current interior temperature is just over 20 C, which is fine for me! We even have our back doors open for much of the time.
There's been a lot of fuss over the Socialists taking away the pensioners 'winter fuel payment'; and rightly so. The 'nasty party' have handed huge pay rises to rich Union members, and taken money away from the old and frail. I imagine they would prefer that they die of cold; which a few certainly will.
One of my pet-hates is over heating. I cannot stand houses that are over heated, and the same goes for shops; I have to leave.
I advocate more clothes in Winter, and fewer in Summer. QED.
It has been popular for some while with the binocular-toting, woke, urban do-gooders of Islington, that they wish to see certain (dangerous) animals returned to our countryside.
All sorts of creatures have been suggested for re-introduction including Bears, Bison, Wolves, Beavers, Otters, etc.
All very worthy you might think, but these animals died-out for a reason.
I have just read that in Scotland the re-introduction of Beavers has been so successful that many streams and rivers have become blocked-up, and the animals are now being SHOT. They're actually having to get rid of them again!
I also hear that in Holland the number of Wolves wandering around, since their re-introduction, has become a total menace. They are so numerous that they are entering towns, and eating anything that moves; especially small dogs, hens, and cats. Parents are being warned to keep their children away from woodland areas where the Wolves might be a danger. There is now a serious move afoot to reduce their numbers.
I do remember many years ago that the French introduced both Wolves and Bears into the mountainous Pyrenean area between France and Spain. Of course the local farmers became concerned by how many Sheep and Lambs they were losing (Wolves and Bears need to eat), and they took matters into their own hands, and shot them all.
Here in England the Fox population has grown hugely since the Hunting ban, and one now sees them almost everywhere. People are allowed to shoot them (as long as they're not on horseback), but not in public areas or parks. I happen to rather like Foxes, so I would not like to hear of them being shot anywhere near to where I live; out in the countryside it's a different matter, where they can seriously affect a farmer's livelihood (which was why there was Fox Hunting in the first place).
Amazingly, even Otters are now moving into towns where private ponds filled with Coy Carp have become a favourite destination. With some Carp being worth up to £13,000, you can see why their owners are not happy.
Re-introduction of certain wild animals sounds all very cute-n-cosy, but life isn't always like a Beatrix Potter children's story. Wild animals need to kill to eat, and if your very own 'Tiddles' happened to be on the day's menu of your local fluffy Wolf, you wouldn't be too pleased!
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I mentioned some time ago that our local council were wanting to introduce four resident's parking spaces into our otherwise very quiet, no-parking, street (we all have our own off-street parking). We were not happy.
Firstly every street resident received a letter from the council planning folk explaining their intentions, and asking for our thoughts on the matter. The letter explained that they always took residents opinions very seriously.
Every single person wrote back saying that we were 100% against the idea.
So, what did they do? They totally ignored us, and we now have a row of cars parked opposite our houses.
Our street is narrow (which is why there were previously no parking spaces), so the council have had to squeeze them in. The national 'official' size regulations for an on-street parking bay is 2.6 Metres by 5.00 Metres. The parking bays in our street are 1.8 Metres wide, with no separate length markings.
They are nearly a whole Metre too narrow.
Of course, now there are always a few 'chancers' who park illegally there as well (purple van above), which often means that we have the whole length of the street littered with vans, delivery bikes, taxis, etc, where previously there was none.
What can we do about it? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
You buy a house in a nice quiet street, then along comes some petty bloody bureaucrat and changes everything.
I was very sad to hear of Weaver's recent demise. We never met, but I always had a vision of her as a very special person.
I imagined that Pat's blog title was named in honour of Angus McPhee; a.k.a. The Weaver of Grass. I never thought to ask her, but I imagine that must be so.
McPhee, who came from a very poor Scottish crofting family, spent most of his life in mental hospitals where not only did he refuse to speak, but he also spent his time weaving items of clothing from grass. I believe he would hang the finished articles in the bushes surrounding the hospital. Luckily someone saved them.
I've always been fascinated by people who, suddenly out of the blue, begin to create wonderful things which are totally out of the ordinary. McPhee's clothes come into that category.
Since we returned from our Summer sojourn in France, I haven't once worn my waterproof Barbour, or my gumboots.
Yes, it has rained; but sensibly. It has lightly rained at night, in the early mornings, and occasionally in the late afternoons. Never when we actually need to go out.
However, I keep seeing news reports of torrential rain, flooding, and rivers breaking their banks. Many parts of Britain have had more than their fair share.
Generally speaking, the south of the country will have the better weather. But I think that here on the south coast we are slightly protected by The South Downs. Often they will have inclement weather on the north side of the Downs, whilst here on the south side we may even have sunshine.
I don't particularly dislike rain as long as I'm well protected. Umbrellas are useless here, as rain is usually accompanied by wind. The best protection are gumboots, a pukka raincoat, and a sou'wester. As long as no water can penetrate, then there is no need to worry. It's all a matter of being well prepared.
Talking of which, I really must buy myself a well-fitting, comfortable, not-too-silly-looking RAIN HAT. Then they can throw at me what they will.
