Driving shoes.

Like most old codgers (I imagine), I like to think of myself as a 'good driver'. I'm never in a hurry, I'm never impatient, and I'm always courteous. AND; I've never had an accident.

However, I do have a very slight driving problem. My most recent pair of suede 'desert boots' (bottom in photo) are very rigid, there's very little 'give' in them, and they have taken away a certain amount of sensitivity in my pedal actions (braking, accelerating, and clutch). My last pair (which died) were perfect. I'm still OK driving, but I wanted to regain that extra sensitivity in my feet that I always used to have.

So, my search was on for a pair of 'driving shoes', and I eventually decided on a pair of Dunlop, indoor/outdoor, navy corduroy, slippers. They are comfortable, they fit nicely, and they have good flexibility.

I've already given them a test run, and they are so much better than my clodhopper shoes. I really don't know why I didn't buy some before. My trip down to S France will now be so much more comfortable.

I'll be buying myself some driving gloves next. 

Just call me 'Fangio'!

Saturday mornings.

 

Without question, my favourite bit of the week is always Saturday morning.

I take Billy out at about 7.20 am. On Saturdays it's always quiet, and we usually have the park to ourselves. We are back home before 8 am.

Then I extract The Compact Royce (Debi) from her garage, I unfold her ears, kick the tyres, and head off to Hove, to Sainsbury's, for my big shopping trip of the week.

Saturdays are surprisingly quiet on the roads. No hold-ups, no school-kids all over the place, and no crazy 'late for the office' drivers. Even most cyclists wait for the red lights to turn green, which they don't usually do. 

The supermarket is BIG, but my shopping is quick and easy. I follow a very detailed, and mapped-out list, and I'm now such an expert on where everything is located, that they might even give me a job as a shelf-stacker.

My store employs people of all ages, and on Saturday mornings there are always a couple of lovely OAP ladies on the check-out. We have become almost like old friends, and we natter about any old nonsense as my purchases ring-up. Without wine on my list (we're on a wine-free diet) my bill is never much more than £50-60-ish. We live well, but not expensively. Nothing extravagant on my list this week, other than a pack of superior quality Mince Pies, and a frozen Turkey.

I thought I'd buy a nice frozen Turkey, just in case Bird Flu causes havoc. I think it's the same type as I had last year, which was delicious.

By chance, Kimbo had much the same idea and bought a frozen Goose. We are well prepared.

On the way home I popped into a big Pet food/toys/equipment/etc store to buy Billy's Christmas present. They didn't have what I wanted so I bought an annoying squeaky plastic Sheep instead. He'll love it; it's every Border Collie's dream.

It might sound strange, but I really do enjoy my shopping trips in the car, and this last Saturday was a lovely sunny day.

Debi is now back in her garage where she will wait patiently until next Saturday. Amazingly, I'm still driving on French petrol; I think she prefers it.

Desmond Dekker - Get Up Edina

The inimitable Desmond Decker, accompanied in the video by some blokes who've probably had too much Vodka.

My favourite DD song; not so sure about the 'dad dancing'. Actually, on reflection, I think the dancing is wonderful.

Thailand

Two boys, one cat, one mother, one father behind camera, and a game of chess. Early mornings in Thailand are like this.

No noses in mobiles. No hoodies. No disguise. No silly haircuts. Just a quick board game, maybe a swim, then off to school.

Boo Boo and The Cherub are what I would call 'bright boys'; they take after their Papa. I would love to know what they'll get up to when they're older, but I will probably never know.

They have travelled around the world, and are perhaps more 'worldly' than most of their peers. I think such people see things differently, which can only be a good thing. 

Thailand (even on their small island) isn't all glamour and beach-life. Most of the roads are appalling, and I believe that local workmen are pretty useless. It's not easy getting anything done to a decent standard; including gardening. There is a lot of frustration attached to daily life. There are snakes in the trees, and Wills has HUGE Lizards in the garden (and occasionally in the pool).

I'm not very well travelled myself. I've seen a bit of Europe, and I've been to the Caribbean; but otherwise I'm a bit of a 'stay at home lad'. Lady M is the opposite. She should have been born in Katmandu, but there was Yellow Fever around so she was eventually born in Surrey. Otherwise she's lived in Moscow, Washington, Caracas, France, and Brighton (to name but a few).

Having been raised in France, two of my children now live abroad, with just Kimbo being in the UK. Of course I miss the other two, but I thoroughly approve of their choices. 

Aunty

Dark days at the Beeb.

Isn't it amazing that it takes a foreign President to clear out some of the biased dross at the BBC. Sadly there are many more in the 'Wokey-Kokey-Klub' who should be shown the door. We really MUST have an independent news service that reports without bias, especially when it concerns foreign politics; whether that be left, right, or anywhere in between. The whole world used to rely on the accuracy and  impartiality of the BBC; that, sadly, is now at risk.

Both Davie and Turness should have known better. These are not stupid people. Davie was well-educated, and even stood as an MP (unsuccessfully). Ms Turness is also no stranger to good education (even though she was expelled from school), and has degrees from two universities (Surrey and Bordeaux).

Davie was the BBC's Director General; and the buck had to stop with him! And Turness was Chief Executive of BBC News. Neither are positions that should involve corruption. Both have now resigned after Tr*mp's intervention. And rightly so!

The UK often accuses the USA of getting involved in overseas politics; and now here WE are, found to have been meddling in the last Presidential election, in the most unacceptable way.

Whatever their politics, they should certainly NOT be 'doctoring' video coverage. The USA's own electorate can decide who they wish to run their country, without any help from the BBC, and they chose Tr*mp.

The BBC always had an excellent reputation for impartiality; that reputation has been seriously eroded in recent times. We've had the Gaza film scandal, the use of woke nonsense to describe pregnant women, and all the Savile, Bashir, Edwards, and Wallace, episodes; the list goes on. To gain a reputation takes time, to lose it can be instantaneous.

I hear that Tr*mp will be claiming 'damages' against the BBC. Well, I hope he wins, because that would be 'right'; and one should always be on the side of what it 'right'. But at the same time I hope he gives gives any settlement to charity.

Aunty's now looking extremely tarnished.

p.s. Just in case you are unaware, 'Aunty' is what English people call the BBC.

Sunday Lunch

Kimbo is a very good cook. He loves his food, and he loves both cooking and eating.

So, as is tradition in the winter months, he lit a fire on his TV, and roasted some poor creature from NZ.

There is something extremely satisfying in knowing that you have raised children to become both gourmets and gourmands. 

We discussed the quality of a particular Champagne, and we had a  product test between two successive year's vintages of a favourite Montepulciano. 

Lunch was exquisite Lamb, with perfectly cooked vegs, followed by Susie's Tarte Tatin that might well have challenged one recently made by Lady M. Both were of International championship competition quality.

And here is the maestro himself (looking very old) trying to keep the bubbles out of his nose.

Yesterday was a lovely sunny day. Eating, drinking, and walking with Billy; just about perfect. Not a care in the world.

Now Monday Morning: Kimbo arrives for breakfast any time now, so I'd better go and fry some goodness! He won't be here on Friday, so we have made amends.

I have just seen that it will probably rain all week. Oh well.......

Alphonse

Alphonse is my doll. I've had him since I was born.

During WW2, my mother was a Red Cross Nurse. She paced the pavements of a nearby village (Dormansland in Surrey) that was used as a giant maternity home for London women. She was there in case anyone was 'caught short'. In fact she was the only nurse to deliver a baby on the pavement during the whole length of the war. The young mother said she would have named the baby after my mother; but unfortunately it was a BOY!

Towards the end of the war (1944 maybe?) Mother went to a very grand Red Cross Ball in one of London's best hotels. She bought a raffle ticket and won Alphonse. In the Summer of 1946, he became mine.

Alphonse is dressed as a Japanese Prisoner of War. He has a straw hat, and straw shoes. I believe the raffle money was used to send Red Cross food parcels out to the prison camps. His uniform is all hand made, and, sadly, is beginning to show its age.

Dear Alphonse is now about 82 years old, but he still supports Remembrance Sunday. He will be sitting in my front window on November 9th, and also on Armistice Day on November 11th. He wears his poppy with pride, and remains dignified throughout.

I've written about Alphonse before, and I always say the same thing; I do hope that someone will take great care of him when I'm gone. Perhaps I should even take him with me.

Jeans

I'm not really a 'Jeans' person, but I have owned a couple of pairs that I loved, and still do love.

This picture below must have been taken when I was about 10 (I'm the one on the right; the other is my French friend Didier with our cat 'Tiddles').

The Jeans I'm wearing were just the nicest pair of trousers I've ever owned. They were loose fitting, comfortable, and I considered them to be really cool. I loved them, and was almost overcome with apoplexy when they eventually became too small for me. 

Since those days I've not really worn Jeans. But back in about 2017 I bought TWO pairs from my local Leclerc supermarché, for the staggering price of 6.35 Euros each (that's about £5 each). I could hardly refuse!

I don't wear them too often, but I probably should. Like my first ever pair, they are loose-fitting, and comfortable. They are pukka 'Jeans colour', and have aged naturally. They may not be trendy skinny Jeans, or even bell-bottoms; they have an anonymous quality about them. They blend into the background. Amazingly they have no rips in the knees, or elsewhere. 

Here I am, just back from a walk with Billy; cane in hand, and wearing my trusty Jeans. I do look a bit like a labourer.

They may not be trendy, or expensive, or even particularly attractive, but I do like them.

Jeans must be the most diverse of all items of clothing. They come in all shapes, sizes, colours, and states of repair. Some people spend their whole lives in them, others may have twenty pairs in their cupboards that they treat like Works of Art.

Do you wear Jeans? 

Viva Levissimo!

 

Heads in the Sand.

 

Humans are strange creatures.

I usually read my MSN News feed every morning to see what is happening in the world, and all I see are stories about Ms Markle, a new Mayor in NY, David Beckham, Knife crime, The Kardashians, and lots of minor Celebs either getting married, or getting divorced.

Meanwhile in other parts of the world tyrants are behaving like savages. We have Hamas, Putin, and worst of all the RSF in Sudan.

Going through the dross that purports to be 'News', I found just one small piece about Sudan. Otherwise there was an article about the appalling treatment of an Israeli hostage in Gaza, and nothing about Ukraine at all.

The report I came across about the atrocities in Sudan, was only to inform us that Yvette Cooper, our fragrant Foreign Secretary, was sending £5 Million to help the Christians who are being slaughtered in unimaginable numbers, and in unimaginable ways. Reports describe streets flowing with blood with body parts spread everywhere; all viewable from space. Hospitals have been attacked with all patients, doctors, women and babies, being killed en masse. Other 'war crimes' are too nasty to mention here, but you can imagine.

Sudan's RSF (Rapid Support Force) are possibly the most brutal military group on earth, but their crimes get very little coverage. Frankly, what will £5 Million do to help solve the problem? Nothing! It's the price of a reasonable size house in Notting Hill. The RSF are being supported by Saudi and Iran; a few UK taxpayers £'s will hardly help against that. Most will probably go directly to someone's pocket anyway.

So what can be done with these savages? Even 'Celebs' visiting the area (this was Clooney back in 2008) doesn't help..... I doubt if they even knew who Clooney was. 

Is Ms Kardashian's new hair colour really more important than genocide in Africa? I think occasionally we get our priorities completely wrong! Those poor Christians in Sudan deserve our help; the RSF, like Hamas, needs to be stopped and eliminated.

Food Fads

Food is occasionally as much a matter of fashion as the make of your shoes or the width of your trouser bottoms.

Pomegranate Molasses had a short life as a 'must have' food (I never tried it), as did  Pulled Pork, Biltong, and Kimchi. I'm sure there have been others.

Kimchi is hardly mentioned these days. Its fashion days were quickly over, and only the diehards (like myself) still eat it; unless, of course, you live in S Korea where it's eaten every day.

I have bought various different makes of Kimchi over the years. Only one had a strange smell and was difficult to eat, but most were very pleasant. This one above is very mild, has a pleasant taste, and is great just as a snack with cheese, etc.

Fermented foods are having a bit of a comeback as their medicinal properties become better known. We regularly eat Sauerkraut, and I (not Lady M) often eat Kimchi. Whether or not it does my gut any good is another question.

Anyway, it's better to eat for pleasure rather than for what the doctor suggests, and most (not all) Kimchi fulfills that criteria.

p.s. The one above came from Sainsbury's (other stores are available).

 

THE MAYORS OF NY, LONDON, and BRIGHTON.

Many of the good people of New York are apparently in fear of their new Muslim Mayor Mr Zohran Mamdami. His socialist, woke, policies are making many flee for their lives.

In London we've had a Muslim Mayor for many years, and (it has to be said) he's made a bit of a mess of things, and isn't too popular. He's made life a misery for car owners, violent crime is up by 40%, and the amount of 'stabbings' has become a nightmare.

Since May of this year we have a new Lady Mayor here in Brighton. She replaces our previous Mayor Mohammed Asaduzzaman (below), who I believe was also a Muslim. They seem to be everywhere. We are expecting some improvement. 

So, I say to all you New Yorkers; nothing lasts forever, have no fear, all will soon be over!

Wooden spoons

They might seem like mundane little throw-away objects, but a good wooden spoon is one of the most important tools in the kitchen. It is a natural product, it uses no electricity or batteries, and is easily stored.

The well used spoon in the bottom right of my photo, was without doubt my favourite spoon; hence it looking so well-used. Sadly it broke a couple of years ago (probably through old-age), and I have not yet found the perfect replacement. The picture shows just a selection of my collection in France.

I've been in desperate need of a new wooden spoon, and in recent months I've bought TWO new spoons (below), but neither hits the spot. The bowl is too big, the handle too short, or just the feel of the thing isn't right. My search continues.

I like wooden spoons. I expect most are made by robots these days, but I have several that were hand-carved. The manufacturing process doesn't make one better than another, but it's always good to see 'skill'.

These are the two I bought recently. The top one has a slightly over-sized bowl and a short handle, and the bottom one is made of very poor quality wood and needs sanding; it's unpleasant to use.

I do know of a nearby shop where my quest may be fulfilled. I shall let you know. I know you'll be anxious on my behalf.

Why do we work?

 

The obvious answer to this simple question is 'to earn money'.

We all want a roof over our heads, to be able to pay our bills, put food on the table, clothes on our backs, and hopefully to afford a little warmth during the winter months. If there's anything left over, maybe buy a car, an annual holiday, and a few pints at the weekend. Most of us don't ask for a lot more than that.

So, how are the government helping us with our aspirations! They promised 'CHANGE'.

They raise house taxes (plus the cost of buying that house). They put-up the prices of our everyday food purchases. They take away Winter fuel payments from the elderly. They close-down Pubs and High Street shops. They punish the hard-working. Cause panic amongst our Farmers. And possibly worst of all, they create mass UNEMPLOYMENT (as they always do). Yet people still vote for these clowns; probably including most of those who are now suffering as a result of their folly.

If possible, I want my taxes to be spent wisely. I would occasionally like to see a 'Bobby on the Beat'. I want my exorbitant local taxes to be used for street lighting, pot-hole-filling, and street cleaning. I would also like a bit to be left-over for my NHS health care (if I need it), so that I don't have to sit for several days in a cold and damp corridor, waiting for my in-growing-toenail to be looked-at. 

I should add here that we have a lovely brand new replacement modern street-lamp outside our house. It was installed whilst we were away in Summer. Sadly, it has never had a lightbulb fitted, or been connected to the power supply. When I recently made enquiries I was told that we might have some actual light again before Christmas. The old one (next to it) has been chopped in half, but remains there in situ.

Pot holes are still everywhere, and if I do ever see a Street Cleaner, he's usually sitting down in a dark corner, lighting a spliff. 

As for that Bobby.... no bloody chance!

p.s. On the political front, I see that both Labour and The Tories have been overtaken by The Green Party in the popularity polls. People are becoming DESPERATE.

Nureyev.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Almost next door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Less than two months to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

Another scandal.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Solution.

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

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

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

There we are; PROBLEM SOLVED.

 

Sport

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Lamb Tagine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

'Countryfile'

I'm a country boy at heart, and am generally more interested in bucolic life than urban.

When possible I try to watch the BBC Sunday TV show 'Countryfile'. It keeps one up to date with country matters, and the farming year in general.

This last Sunday's edition was really depressing. Farmers, big and small, were ruing the prospect of Labour's new disastrous Inheritance Tax for farms. There was talk of suicide and despair. One small farmer was facing a tax bill of £1 Million on the imminent death of his father.

Farmers have a difficult enough job. They spend their lives improving and investing, and growing our food, only to find that some 'class war' urban lovies want to bleed them dry, and force them to sell their farms. How crazy is that!

Country people are so angry that words cannot describe their feelings. I just hope that, after seeing that programme, both The Tories and Reform UK will declare that they will immediately reverse this destructive policy. This poor man below, who was on Sunday's programme, was typical of the interviewees.

Our problem in the UK is that we have a Socialist government with little or no business experience, absolutely no knowledge of farming life, and a hatred of hard-working farmers who they mistakenly see as being 'Hunting Shooting Fishing Wealthy Country Squires'. I think it's about time that Reeves or Starmer spent a few days on a working farm.

This is without doubt the most disastrous Political Policy of recent times. Tragic.

Those embarrassing photos

I can't count the amount of times I've laughed (or despaired) at the TV, or my laptop, when I see images that I just know that people will seriously regret later in their lives.

I suppose the classic current ones are young men sporting the 'Meet Me at McDonalds' hairstyle; a disheveled mop of hair hanging over their forehead and eyes. What ARE they thinking! 

This one above is another classic of its type. Wedding photos are invariably spoilt by scruffy 'grooms', and one has to feel so sorry for the bride that her big day photo was ruined by a groom who forgot to wash and comb his hair, and was trying to blur his memory by swigging beer from a bottle. Others have scruffy untied ties, or old tracksuits; the possibilities are endless. 

This wedding above was apparently this man's FIFTH, so he probably didn't care that much.

We all have photos that we would love to eradicate. I personally have plenty where I'm holding a cigarette, which I don't like. Women tend to dislike more than men because they were caught unawares, NOT looking like Brigitte Bardot.

 

Of course, celebs, politicians, etc, all live in fear of photographers. Miliband and his Bacon Sandwich, Kinnock on Brighton Beach, Boris hanging from a zip wire, Ed Davey on the water, etc, etc. They have to be on their guard at all times.

These days with 'deep fake' and AI, one can make almost any photo into something it isn't. This can be fun, but it can also be very disturbing. Maybe AI could even make the chap above have his hair washed and combed, and the bottle removed.

 

The Sketch Show - I Can't Believe it's....

Very rarely do I see a comedy sketch that I really would loved to have written myself; but this is one!

Does comedy get any better than this? I laughed my cotton socks off.

Billy's new girlfriend.

I must apologise for the dreadful quality of this photo, but it was dark, and was taken through a double-glazed glass window; not ideal.

Just before Kimbo came for breakfast yesterday morning this lovely Fox turned-up, and she and Billy looked at each other through the window. I always leave the gate open for Kimbo, and she obviously took advantage. Later, when Kimbo was helping with some online stuff, she turned up again and came right inside onto our little patio, putting her nose up against the glass. Unfortunately, as soon as he told me that she was there, I turned around to look, and I just saw her tail as she left.

It looks as if Billy and her are good friends, and she (I'm sure it's a she) is simply coming to say "Hello". I might leave the gate open more often, and tempt her with a bit of sausage. I do like the idea of a friendly visiting Fox.

She is very beautiful, but any chance of some Border Foxie pups is out of the question; he's had the 'snip'.

p.s. I opened the gate again this morning (5 mins ago) just to see if she would re-appear; she did. I'd left a couple of bits of sausage for her, then when she looked through the window asking for more I went out with another bit. Unfortunately Billy saw the open door and rushed out. The Fox of course ran for cover. I shall try a more fool-proof method tomorrow.

 

Moules frites

I love Mussels, but buying them has become problematical in recent times.

They have mostly proved to be small, tasteless, and frankly, a waste of money. I like my Mussels to be fresh, big and fat, and to be full of flavour.

In the UK I have bought VACUUM PACKS of ready prepared and cooked Mussels in a cream sauce, and only one provider has passed muster.

I've bought some from both M & S and Waitrose, but neither were very good. But these ones (below) from Sainsbury's are excellent, and I can recommend them. They are Scottish.

Each box comes with two vacuum packs of Mussels, and two boxes (4 vacuum packs) are just about right for two people. I just add a splash of white wine and heat for a few minutes. The Mussels are a good size as you can probably see by the photo, and there are very few 'duds'. The chips are cheating 'oven chips'. 

Moules Frites (Mussels and Chips) is a big institution in France; and even bigger in Belgium. Mammoth al fresco evenings are dedicated to their consumption, when 'buckets' are refilled as soon as they're emptied. They are always good fun evenings; but, of course, you have to like Mussels.

As we traditionally always eat fish on Fridays, these Mussels often now appear on the menu. We shall be eating more tonight.

Lovely Jubbly.

 

Vacancy

I have mentioned previously that our local priest, Father Dominic, is leaving us, and heading for pastures new. As far as I understand no replacement has yet been found.

I find this a shame. For anyone who believes in gods and devils, the church is quite a good career. I don't think the pay is that good, but often the accommodation is beautiful, and the work-load not too heavy. There are plenty of opportunities for career advancement, and as I always say; you only need to read one book!

In the case of our local church, the work-environment is also very pleasant (below), and the location envious.

The problem is that no-one, it seems, wants to become a vicar any more. There used to be a Theological College in close proximity to my old school which was forced to close through lack of applicants (the lovely building is now part of the school). My village church in France hasn't had a priest for a long time. And I read in a recent Sunday Times that in Ireland only 13 men signed-up to train for the priesthood over the past year.

Belief in mythology is in serious decline (other than in certain religions), and there has also been far too much scandal.

Perhaps it's time for all the world's religions to accept that we are no longer the gullible, god-fearing, uneducated peasants of the past, and that we now are more inclined to believe in logic than myth.

Most religions could easily become 'philosophies'. Scrap all the Mumbo-Jumbo, and spread the word of how best to live our lives in the service of others. Of the 10 Commandments, they could easily scrap the first five, and simply stick with the remaining five. Maybe this would see a return to bigger congregations; especially if the music was more to the taste of today (no rap please).

So, if you've been ordained, or are simply a talented amateur, and are looking for a parish, may I recommend St Nicholas Church here in Brighton; but not too much of the Mumbo please. Just say 'Cro sent you'.

 

RH

This face may be familiar to many discerning TV viewers. She appeared on a 'wartime related' edition of TV's The Repair Shop a year or so ago, with her treasured doll, called 'Haisi'.

RH (I won't give her actual name) lives locally, and joins Lady M on Wednesday mornings in The Rest Garden (this morning) where they do a spot of 'volunteer gardening' together.

She has a fascinating, if tragic, history. At the age of just 3 years old, in 1939, she was smuggled out of Nazi occupied Vienna. Her only possession being her doll, which had become in a sorry state, and needed the attention of the 'The Teddy Bear Ladies'. The doll was eventually beautifully restored.

We meet quite often, and we wish each other a pleasant day, etc. She's a totally charming lady, and always has a lovely smile on her face. Lady M knows her better than I do, but she knows Billy better than either of us.

I have just discovered that she has the same surname as the English family who bought the Chateau in our village (in France) back in the 1920/30's. It's not a common name so, the next time I see her, I will ask if there's any connection. It would be very amusing if we discovered that she was related to our good friends, who we've known for over 50 years.

This may sound indiscreet, but RH is the archetypal 'Grandmother' we all dream/dreamed of. I have no idea if she is actually a grandmother, but if she is, her grandchildren are extremely lucky.

 

Muffins

There are just two words that personify afternoon Tea in Autumn/Winter, and they are 'Crumpets' and English 'Muffins'.

Just the very mention of those words suggests cosy fires, home-made jam, and (for many) listening to 'The Archers'.

I was brought-up with Crumpets, but, amazingly, I don't think I'd ever had a Muffin before a few days ago. Why this should be, I don't know!

Anyway, I bought a pack of Warburton's Muffins. They looked to me like a flattened soft bread roll, but in fact they are very different.

Sliced in half, toasted, and spread with plenty of butter, and this Summer's Plum Jam, it was delicious.

I shan't abandon my Crumpets, but I shall certainly be adding Muffins to my shopping list. 

And Lady M's Plum Jam (no pips) was the perfect accompaniment. 

Above was my yesterday's breakfast.

p.s. It should be noted that 'English Muffins' are very different to those of other nationalities.

 

Autumn in Brighton

Autumn has certainly arrived here in Brighton. In the 'Rest Garden' where I walk with Billy, leaves are thick on the ground, and those that are still on the trees are rapidly changing colour. 

Lady Magnon is a volunteer 'Rest Gardener' on Wednesday mornings, and leaf-sweeping will be her major task for some while!

My shorts have been put away until next Summer, and my thermal vest has already seen one early morning outing. My denim jacket has been taken out of storage, and my favourite red scarf has been washed. I am just about ready for the colder weather to come.

Luckily down here, it has remained dry, and the storms that hit the north recently, have stayed away. In fact it's still quite sunny and summery; albeit quite cool in the early mornings.

I don't really dislike any season; what I do hate is rain or snow. Since we got back about 6 weeks ago, I have only worn my Barbour once; and even that was unwarranted. 

I've just checked my long term forecast, and there's a small amount of rain on the horizon. Sadly, all our reservoirs are becoming very low, so we do need rain. I just hope it rains at night!

However, we were promised some rain for yesterday afternoon; I didn't really happen. I remain to be convinced!

 

Autumn in France.

Kimbo, Susie, and a friend, are at the cottage for a very short break. Kimbo loves it there almost as much as I do. He was raised in France, went to school there, and speaks the lingo. He loves the rustic lifestyle, as well as the excellent food and drink.

Susie is returning home today, but Kimbo will remain there to 'work from home' until mid-week.

Seeing the fire lit, the candles burning, and no electric lights on, makes me very envious. This is how I often spent my evenings in Winter; just as had the previous residents over the past 300 years.

When I originally bought the cottage (ruin), it was just this one room, with a loft above. We lived about 300 yards away at the time in a big old farmstead. However, even in the state it was in at the time, I knew it would make the most wonderful home. It's situation was ideal, it had never really been touched, and all the original features were intact.

There had been no water or electricity, no floor in the room (above), and the roof was falling in. It needed EVERTHING doing to it.

My original intention for the cottage was to make an eco-hideaway (Garconniere) for the future Kimbo. I'd imagined Gas/Wood only for cooking, light, and hot water. And the water supply itself coming from the roof. Sadly over the years we realised that our needs were greater, and all sorts of mod-cons were added; including our beautiful pool (which is currently closed down). Basic modern luxuries cannot be avoided.

It's as if Kimbo knew he was going to love the house. Given the opportunity he would fly out at least once a month to unwind. When you close your eyes and imagine that perfect little cottage in the French countryside; this is it.

Well, we think so anyway!

 

China.

 

One of the most worrying developments of the past few decades has been the way that China has 'bought' Africa.

They have injected money into every aspect of African business life. Mining, manufacturing, leisure, agriculture, and a lot more. They now run an important percentage of the whole African economy; and they haven't finished their spending spree yet!

They have also been doing much the same in Europe. It's staggering how many businesses are now under Chinese control; including (amazingly) the Data Hub used by our own Government Departments to exchange highly classified information.

Here in the UK, even the famous tailor Gieves and Hawkes is now owned by them. And, heaven forbid, the brewer Greene King is now Chinese. In the motoring sector MG cars, Lotus, and LDV are all owned by China, and most of the robotic machinery that manufactures other makes are imported from China, and contain IOT technology. The list is 'almost' endless.

IOT (Internet of Things) technology is in most Chinese manufactured Smart devices. It shares information through TV's, mobile phones, switches, and even door bells. The information gathering is everywhere.

Even inside government itself a couple of 'parliamentary researchers' have been accused of spying for China. The two men were charged in 2024, and the case dropped by Starmer in Sept' 25. Accusations are rife concerning the embarrassment it has caused in government that Christopher Cash and Christopher Berry were caught spying for China. They had hoped that the scandal had been conveniently swept under the carpet, but it's not going away. Serious questions are now being asked by The Conservatives!

Regardless of all the above, the most worrying move by the Chinese is to build a HUGE new Super Embassy in London's Royal Mint Court.

The planning application has obviously caused concern, and the government will give their approval or refusal before the end of the year. It has to be said that they already have a suspiciously large Embassy in London. With Starmer cosying-up to Xi, and President Xi personally asking Starmer for his approval for the new Embassy, I quite expect China's application for this ridiculous giant spy-center will go ahead!

Best to brush-up on your Mandarin; we'll all be speaking Chinese before long.

In absentia

Just before we returned to Brighton 6 weeks ago, the Apples, Grapes, and Figs (in France) were all ripe, and the trees were groaning. Perfect for the annual invasion of Hornets.

I always leave a few traps around. Simple large jars with a 1.5 cm round hole in the lid, and plenty of Beer, Jam, and Sugar inside to attract them.

The Hornets can't resist, and the traps become filled with them. There must be 100 at least inside this jar.

 

Our usual native European Hornets are nasty little beasts, and they have recently been joined by even nastier Asian Hornets who have arrived from Spain. A couple of stings and it's 'Goodnight Vienna'. Luckily I have never been stung by one, but at the same time I've never been afraid of them. Some people run a mile as soon as they see one!

These days, as soon as the Grapes, on the front of the house, start to turn colour, I take them all off and put them on the compost. There are two small-ish Fig trees reasonably close to the house, and they are both pruned back very hard in advance, so no fruit to attract the Hornets. We also have several other Fig trees that are far too big to prune, but they are further away, and cause no problem. 

Kimbo is at the house for a short while and sent me the above photo. He has confirmed that we haven't been burgled, everything is in its place, and even our new satellite internet dish is still on the roof; and working. Tout va bien!

He assures me that he's not on holiday; but WORKING.