The simplest pasta possible.

In about 1966, I was living in London's Fulham, where I met an Italian language student called Natascia. She was half Russian, half Italian.

Neither of us had much money at the time, so we would occasionally dine together when she invariably cooked the very simple Spaghetti dish called 'Olio e Aglio'; the favourite late night dish of all Italian students.

As the name suggests (if you speak Italian), it is simply made with Spaghetti, tossed into gently sautéed Olive oil and Garlic. I seem to remember that she also added some Chicken Stock Cube and a few chili flakes, to the lightly fried, and copious amounts of, Garlic. It was very simple but delicious.

I've made the dish hundreds of times since then, but have never managed to get the exact same flavour that she achieved. She must have had some magic in her hands.

Occasionally I make the same dish but add just a very small amount of tinned chopped Tomatoes (about a serving spoon full), which changes everything. I just wish I could get my recipe to taste like hers. 

Sadly, the lovely Natascia died in 2009, in the awful earthquake in L'Aguila in Italy. The earthquake struck during the night, so I imagine she was simply crushed to death as she slept.

I shall keep on trying to get it right; I feel I owe it to her!

You can find the easy recipe everywhere.

 

Big Brother.

The reaction to this prank doesn't surprise me at all. The suggestion that Putin has the support of 'his people' has always seemed like a joke to me. They know what's going on, they know how many fellow Russian lives have been lost, and they know that the land he's fighting over is now mostly wrecked.

Evil dictators usually get their comeuppance at some time or other. Why can't a huge country like Russia have a decent, democratic, and honest leader for a change?

Shed-n-Buried.

 

I'm surprising myself by my current taste in TV programmes.

I'm absolutely NOT a Petrol-Head. I don't know a piston from a gasket. When I had a couple of very basic cars, a 2CV and a Renault 4, I could clean the spark plugs and the distributor, and as long as there was petrol in the car and a good battery, they would go. That's about as far as my mechanical knowledge goes.

Henry Cole (right above) is a rather annoying, over-dominating, presenter of this TV programme (Shed-n-Buried) and along with his mates Skid, Fuzz, and Allen Millyard (and Jelly Bean his dog) they fool around whilst trying to make a few bob by wheeling and dealing.

Cole is an Old Etonian who likes to pretend that he's one of the lads. His aim is to seek out old motorbikes, cars, tractors, petrol pumps, vans, lorries, etc, get them going, give them a wash-n-brush-up, and sell them on for a profit; or occasionally a loss.

I'm not sure why I find the programme so fascinating, but I do. I suppose it's the English obsession for buying something for £1, and selling it for £2. Not that I have any intention of copying their ways.

Watching them buying, restoring, and selling is enough for me. 

Lady M despairs when I watch the show; I can understand her desperation!

New departures.

I wouldn't normally buy something like this, but 'convenience' suddenly grabbed me. I am always open to change!

I was going to prepare some Chicken wings in a Hoi Sin style sauce, and I couldn't think of what I wanted to accompany them. I eventually plumped for a pack of Uncle Ben's spicy Mexican microwave (2 mins) rice.

It's only because Lady M is away, otherwise she would have slapped my wrist. But the thought of a delicious 2 min plate of rice, for £1.40 was very tempting. I had (obviously) never tried such a thing before.

One is advised to 'massage' the pack to separate the grains, then open the pack a bit, before giving it 2 mins in the microwave. Would it be any good?

In fact I was very impressed, the rice itself was excellent. Another time I wouldn't choose the 'Spicy Mexican' version; much better to go for the plain.

I shan't be buying this regularly, but I did notice that the 'use by date' was 08.01.26, so I shall certainly buy one more as a store cupboard stand-by. I can see it being very good for a last-minute Provençal-style stuffing of Tomatoes, Peppers, or Aubergines.

Verdict. 8/10 (which is much better than I'd imagined)

 

Life as it was

 

Last night I was scrolling through all the dross on TV, looking to see if there was something 'enlightening' that I could watch before bed. I must say that the choice was really disappointing.

Then, by chance, I came across a programme that I'd seen previously called 'The Edwardian Farm'.

If you've not heard of, or seen, this programme; a group of three people, Ruth a historian, and Alex and Peter both archeologists, attempt to replicate life on an Edwardian farm, with all the hardships and complications that that involves.

They cut no corners. They live and work exactly as people did from around 1900 to 1910. They had no electricity, no convenient supermarkets, and very few luxuries.

Light came from candles, heat from a fire, and water from a well. Ploughing was still mostly done with horse-power, and time-saving devices still a rarity. It was the crossover period between the old methods and modern 'inefficient' mechanisation. Primitive tractors were just arriving on the agricultural scene.

I must say that this type of lifestyle has huge appeal for me. I do enjoy the simple life; as long as I have just a few modern conveniences. I do like running hot and cold water, a reasonably modern stove, and some electricity.

I'm also a bit of a frustrated farmer. Growing, harvesting, and preserving in the old-fashioned ways have played a major part in my life, and I miss it terribly.

The closest I've come to 'The Simple Life' was at our home in France. The location was right, our 300 year old cottage was right, and the land provided all I required, and more. 

OK, we had a pool and a ride-on mower, but my heart was in the right place.

This past week.

 

It's been another mostly depressing week. Not a lot of good news I'm afraid! Sources include the BBC, The Guardian, and The Telegraph.

Now that Trump has his knees tucked beneath the Oval Office desk, it looks as if he will boycott Lord Mandelson becoming the UK's Ambassador to the USA. Mandy, a keen supporter of China, has been very rude and nasty about Trump in the past. Don't give-up your day job Mandy!

Everyone in the UK will remember the brutal murder of three little girls at a dance class last July. Their murderer, the charming Axel Rudakubana (above), did the decent thing on Monday, and pleaded guilty. He received a 'Life Sentence', with a minimum of 52 years. Some (including me) think this isn't long enough.

How the hell are people like him allowed to walk around without a ball and chain? What a total scumbag SHIT. I predict that he'll have a very hard time in prison; little oiks like him are not popular behind bars, and I suspect he'll become a well deserved target. I'm not someone who condones violence, but in his case I'll make an exception. It'll now cost the taxpayers about £1,000 a week to keep him locked-up.

On England's South Coast the first Camelia of 2025 was spotted in a tiny back garden in Brighton (below).

In Gaza/Israel, the Israelis released 90 criminals, and Hamas released just 3 hostages, with Israel soon releasing another 200 criminals and Hamas another 4 hostages. Does this sound a little one-sided to anyone but me? Is this what the ceasefire is all about? I think they might need to get around the table again. And now we hear that Hamas are already shooting their own people.

It seems as if the fragrant (recently disgraced) Tulip Siddiq (Left in photo above) isn't yet out of the woods. The Chairman of the Bangladeshi National Democratic Movement' is demanding her extradition. Tulip has dual citizenship in the UK and Bangladesh, and he is demanding that she faces the courts on corruption charges. Oh dear!

Harry has finally won his court case against The Sun. Murdoch's media group will be paying 'His Royal Lowness' a tidy sum (in excess of £10 Million) for allowing out-of-house journos to bug his phone. I'm no fan of Harry's, but I think he probably deserves a few quid. Murdoch can stew! My advice to him would be to leave the money in a hidden UK bank account, and not let 'you-know-who' get her hands on it.

Meanwhile, our Chancellor of the Exchequer was in Davos recently, at the World Economic Forum, just as Financial experts back home were describing the economy as being in a 'Debt Death Spiral'. We are currently seeing the biggest jobs slump since Covid, with over 47,000 lost jobs in last month alone; as well as an unprecedented rise in business failures. There has been a 50% rise in business 'Critical Financial Distress' due to her tax-raising budget. I wonder what she said in her speech to conference members to encourage people to invest in the UK; if anyone bothered to attend.

Oh, and guess what. Trump doesn't like facial tattoos (well, who does?). 

Rugby Club Raffle.

I think the prizes in my local Rugby Club raffle demonstrate a major difference between France and the UK.

Main prize, Half a Pig. Then four Ducks complete with livers (Foie gras). Three Hams. Four Ducks without livers. One whole Loin of Pork. Three boxes of meat. A token to buy Fish. Ten young Chickens, and Ten Chickens (I'm not sure if these are alive or not). And plenty of other lots, mostly comprising of meat!

These Rugby guys don't muck about. They know what's good for them!

 

Scams.

 

I recently had a very unsettling experience, and I'm still not 100% sure if it was a scam or not. But I suspect that it was.

I received a phone call from a 'London Fraud Squad Police Officer' (DC Charles 782215) who informed me that a young man had been arrested in a London store trying to use a copy of my Debit Card. He had used my family name but with a different first name. He also gave my address as being his. The arrested man was described as being black, six foot two, and as having a scar on his face. The Policeman wanted to know if I recognised the description. All very bizarre.

A long phone call continued which made me suspicious, nothing seemed to add-up.

I won't go into boring details about the call, because it's irrelevant.

I was just waiting for him to ask for my card details, so I rang off. He didn't phone back.

I told him in no uncertain terms that I thought he was a scammer, and he did everything possible to assure me that he was genuine. He even made me phone 999 to make enquiries about his name and number. However, knowing that once on line numbers can be transferred, it didn't convince me.

Has anyone experienced something similar. This was a very well organised scam, and was extremely convincing. I pride myself on not being open to scams, but this was on another level. There were at least two people involved; 'bouncing off each other'.

I am now regularly checking my online bank details to make sure nothing is missing. So far, OK.

Shock Horror!

 

There are some revelations, whether true or false, that can have the world trembling in its boots. I remember when the Himalayas became the Him-are-ly-as, and Lichen became Ly-can. 

Another such bombshell is the recent revelation that Jesus wasn't called Jesus at all.

It seems that not only was the name not used at his supposed date of birth, but certain letters in the name 'Jesus' didn't even exist in the Aramaic alphabet.

Clever researchers have now decided that he was actually called the equivalent of Joseph, which at the time was Yeshu (which sounds a bit like Jesus). And that his family name would have suggested his place of birth; i.e. Nazareth,

So there we have it. They've been barking up the wrong tree all this time, and they should have been worshiping someone called Yeshu Nazareen. 

Now that 'Christianity' is no longer valid, I suppose their religion will have to change to Yeshuanity, and shouting "Oh, for Christ's sake" at someone will now become "Oh, for Yeshu's sake".

This must herald the start of a whole new era of Yeshuanity. Christmas will become Yeshumas, and Christians will soon become known as Yeshuans.

Don't give-up your day job! Amen.

Forbidden fruits

I bought a Fray Bentos 'Steak and Kidney Pudding' (not Pie) last September. It had stayed in the kitchen cupboard ever since; until yesterday.

Lady M said she didn't want to eat it, so I knew I had to wait until she was away.

Their Steak & Kidney Pies (not puddings) were a student standby when I was still at college, and I loved them. I don't think they made Puddings in those days.

The Puddings are designed for Microwaves. You remove the top, turn it upside-down, and zap for 4 mins. And voila your Pudding is done.

They are a little stodgy, but the stodge is delicious. There's plenty of Kidney in there too.

Verdict. 9/10. A really good store-cupboard essential.

 

UK and US relations.

 

Now that Trump is back in The White House, I suspect that he might soon begin to reek revenge on those who've 'wronged him'. This will not only cover politicians in the US, but also in foreign countries that he feels have either insulted him, or have sided with the opposition; unfortunately both of these can be attributed to the UK.

It is never wise for a politician to insult a foreign dignitary. Nor is it wise to meddle with politics in the middle of a foreign election campaign. Senior politicians should know this, and follow protocol. Such criticism should be the domain of the media; if at all! When my late Father-in-Law was dealing with Stalin in Moscow, the last thing he would have done was to go around insulting him. As a diplomat, he knew better!

Our Foreign Secretary, David Lammy, recently called Trump an idiot, reprehensible, a sociopath, and an absolute moron; and several Labour Party activists went to the US during the election period to canvas for lack-luster Harris. Everyone knew that Trump was bound to win, so how they thought this would help UK/US relations; I cannot imagine.

I quite expect that Trump will visit the UK sometime soon, but will he meet government representatives? I doubt it. He will be invited to the palace by King Charles, but I very much doubt if he will be dining at No 10.

Trump revels in revenge, and it remains to be seen how he will deal with his enemies both over here, and back home. Trade tariffs for the UK maybe? Certainly he will show support for the Tory and Reform parties over the Socialists. We all know that he is very anti woke left wing policies, so be prepared.

The great, the rich, and the good, gathered for a pre-inauguration knees-up (below). My fingers are crossed that it all goes well for them. I hope that he also remembers that he needs to look after the poorest as well. The Tory Party's 'One Nation' attitude, must always be the best policy.

He certainly has the support of some of the most important people in the US; he won't want to upset them; not too soon anyway!

Sunday Pub' Lunch

Yesterday we visited one of my favourite Sussex Pubs, which just happens to be situated in one of the most beautiful villages on the north side of The Downs. The Pub' dates from the early 1800's, but one would be forgiven for thinking it was a lot older.

The village of Fulking is small, wrapped around narrow winding lanes, and tucked into a valley amongst the folds of The Downs. The lanes are surrounded by high sided banks on both sides, there are stunningly beautiful cottages, farm houses, and ancient churches everywhere. If it wasn't quite so far away from any shops, it would be the perfect place to live. This is a village where one needs to be well organised.

We ate Porchetta, and Lamb shanks. Everything was perfectly cooked, and a bottle of rouge completed the picture.

The Pub' is 'dog friendly' but I decided to leave Billy at home.

Lamb shank foreground, Porchetta top right.

Just a few metres down from the Pub' was this charming little fountain. The water, which comes off The Downs, was rushing at terrific speed. I don't quite know why as it hasn't rained here for ages.

Both the food and wine were excellent, and our only gripe was that the inside was a bit cold. There were two fires, one was lit but gave off no heat, the other, a huge ancient inglenook wasn't. It was the perfect day for a couple of blazing fires, but for some reason they chose not to offer us that pleasure.

Verdict for the lunch: 10/10

Verdict for the village: 10/10

Verdict for the overall experience 10/10

If you should ever visit the village, don't go with a big car, don't expect to find a parking space, but make sure you visit The Shepherd and Dog; just say Cro sent you!

Events of the week.

You may remember that I recently predicted that Tulip would have to go; well now she has.

In her resignation letter to Sir Keir 'freebie' Starmer, she continued to distance herself from any wrong-doing. Well she would, wouldn't she! Sadly for her, the evidence has now been splashed all over the press. Red faces are everywhere! Some people have absolutely no shame.

British comedian, 65 year old Tony Slattery has died. His consumption of two bottles of Vodka a day, and £4,000 worth of Cocaine a week, finally caught-up with him, and his heart gave way. RIP.

Over in LA, predictably the looters have turned-up. When I read the article about this charming bunch below, they were eager to point out that they all came from outside the city. They had all targeted the disaster area in order to take advantage of other people's misery. What a nasty bunch they are; and they look it too! I hope they all receive extremely heavy sentences.

Meanwhile over in mainland Europe, France, Greece, and Portugal are joining Spain in their attack on both British tourists and second-home owners. The very people who brought prosperity to some of the most deprived areas of Europe, are now being taxed and attacked, and made to feel unwelcome. So, thank you Europe, we invested huge amounts of money buying and restoring your old properties to bring you out of your poverty, and this is how you now say "Thank you".

I also predicted that Israel would come to some agreement with Gaza. It looks as if I could be right, but any agreement would have to involve the return of ALL the hostages. We shall see; trying to do a deal with terrorists is never easy!

And, oh my goodness, the recent allegations by Dianne Abbott of an 'affair' between Starmer and Rayner, have made Rayner's selection as his Deputy Prime Minister more understandable. Everyone had always wondered how and why she was given the job.

And as if all that wasn't enough, a woman in France, known only as 'Anne', is upset after giving a fake online Brad Pitt £700,000. I really have no words to say about this.

Meanwhile, also in France, Paris's wonderful 'Gaité Lyrique' theatre, close to The Notre Dame, has been occupied by over 300 W African migrants, who have set up camp inside. CHARMING. They really do know how to make themselves welcome in their new country of choice!

Nothing much more of interest this week. It's the post-Christmas lull.

 

Home alone

Yes, it's happened again. Cro has been left 'home alone' whilst Lady Magnon goes galivanting in Singapore and Thailand. She's off to see Boo Boo, the Cherub, Kellogg, and our youngest son Wills.

So, I've brought-in the dancing girls, crates of Champagne, and plenty of rib-eye steak to help pass the lonely evenings. 

I've taken notes on how to operate the Washing Machine, and how much to feed Billy. I shan't bother with the Washing-up Machine, as I prefer to do that by hand. It's too complicated anyway.

She'll be away for about three weeks, so plenty of time for me to get up to mischief.

Lady M asked if I'll be doing anything special whilst she's away. I replied that I shall be eating Lamb's Liver. I think I'm alone in liking it, and I'm already looking-up interesting recipes. I'll probably also be going down to my pub' quite often, and buying a few luxuries that only I enjoy.

She's told almost everyone in Brighton that I shall be alone for a while, and already people are asking if I'm OK. I'm beginning to feel like Macaulay Culkin.

Billy is keeping me company.

Chagos

The future of the Chagos Archipelago is up for grabs.

This UK territory, just south of the Maldives, contains seven atolls, and 60 islands. The US Naval Support Facility has a base on Diego Garcia, which is the only currently occupied island.

Mauritius is claiming sovereignty, and weak-willed Sir Keir 'freebie' Starmer has been talking of handing the territory over willy-nilly. For some bizarre reason he has also offered Mauritius an eyewatering sum of £99 Million per annum for a period of 99 years. A total sum of around £90 Billion. If it was really essential to rid ourselves of the islands, wouldn't it have been wiser to SELL them to someone; rather than paying them to take it away? It IS OURS for goodness sake!!!

It's a good thing that Starmer wasn't in charge when Argentina attacked the Falkland Islands. He would have laid down, rolled on his back, and surrendered. You can't just come along as a rookie PM and start giving away UK territory.

It used to be said that 'Britain Ruled the Seas', but not now. These days we'll actually pay people to take away our territory.

The Maldives have been developed into a staggeringly beautiful holiday destination. Why have we not done the same with a few of the Chagos islands? Forget this stupid deal, and spend the £90 Billion on developing some of the islands.

The government keeps harping on about a highly disputed 'Black Hole' of £20 Billion left by The Tories. Well, if they really believed their own propaganda they wouldn't be wanting to make an unprecedented gift of over £90 Billion to Mauritius. It doesn't make sense.

I expect Trump will be having words with Starmer. Keep your heads down!

p.s. I have an idea. Why not give the islands to me, and I'll only accept £50 Billion as compensation. That must be Starmer's bargain of the year !!!

 

Haircuts

I haven't visited a hairdresser for yonks. The last time I went, I'd made rather a hash of cutting my own hair, and when sitting down in front of the hairdresser's mirror, I must admit that I blamed it on Lady M. "Don't ever let her cut your hair again" he advised. "I won't" I replied.

These days I have very little hair, and I cut it very easily. Once every few months a five minute's clipping does the job.

The last time I went regularly to a hairdressers was when I was working in The City (stockbroking). I used to go to Harrods on Saturdays, where they had a very good barber's dep't, it was also very cheap. I think the aim was to keep 'husbands' away from their wives for as long as possible as they went about spending all the poor chap's money. There were often a few famous faces around as one waited. It was an hour well spent.

I recently came across this photo whilst going through some old albums. I had left the house to do something or other, and suddenly came across my father, sitting outside the coach-house, having his hair cut by the gardener.

I just had to take a photo. I have no idea if the gardener had ever cut anyone's hair before.

I cannot imagine myself asking one of our present gardeners to cut my hair. The picture still makes me smile. Father seemed to think it was perfectly normal! The gardener looks quite evil.

Pastures new!

I think I've now visited most of the UK's main supermarkets over the years; except the Co-op and Morrisons (not interested).

However, yesterday was my very first visit to Aldi, and I must say I was extremely surprised. It wasn't my main shopping trip of the week, but Lady M wanted some excellent wax-wrapped cheese that they'd sold at Christmas (we'd received some as a present), but, sadly, it was no longer available.

Anyway, I bought an average mid-week selection of groceries etc. Three bottles of red wine, bread, sardines, beansprouts, pak choi, celery, a red pepper, sweet chili sauce, fruit, tinned tomatoes, and some honey.

Cost; £23.86. I could hardly believe my eyes. Just over twenty quid for all that? Amazing.

 

I made sure that I bought nothing that could be a cheap and tacky version of a better known brand. A celery, is a celery, is a celery, etc. However I did buy an unknown brand of Worcestershire Sauce (Bramwells), but I've already tasted it, and it's OK.

I was very impressed with Aldi. I had been to one years ago in France, and it was awful. I have never been back. This English version, however, was very good, and I shall certainly return. It's not in the best part of town, but I'm prepared to suffer for a 49p celery, and a 49p red pepper.

Well done Aldi; I'm a convert.

Tiny Homes.

When Lady M was a student at Brighton Art College, she rented a house almost opposite where we now live.

It was in a 'twitten' of very beautiful tiny Victorian cottages, that all had the same basic attribute; they were designed to be inhabited by miniature humans.

It is almost unimaginable that some of the local small homes are livable-in by normal sized people. The rooms (usually 4) are miniscule, and are hardly big enough to hold furniture.

Our own bijou English home (above) also has just 4 rooms (plus bathroom), but it is slightly bigger than the one's opposite. At least we can get a couple of good sized sofas into the sitting room, and a nice big dining table in the dining room. The 'master' bedroom is a good size, but the spare is really quite small.

The house is perfect for a couple of elderly OAP's like us, but I would have liked a bigger garden. We have communal gardens that we never use, but they are looked-after by our gardeners.

I rather like the idea of small homes, and although we already own two I would rather like one more on a small Greek island, facing the sea. That would make my 'set' complete.

I wouldn't want one of the one's opposite; far too small.

 

Quandary.

 

I quite expect that most cities, towns, and even villages are much the same; there are certain people we encounter who fascinate us.

One such person I see almost daily. I occasionally see him miles away when I go shopping by car, but usually he's 'loitering' in the churchyard.

He's of average height, about 45 years old, and of the darker persuasion. I'm not an expert on the characteristics of Ethiopian natives, but taking a guess, I would say that he's from Ethiopia (or thereabouts).

Perhaps his most distinctive feature is a green plastic shopping Co-op bag that he takes everywhere.

His other feature is that he stands in one particular corner of the churchyard fiddling with his mobile, ALL DAY LONG.

Lady M and I have spent many hours wondering who he is and what he's up to. Is he playing some online game, is he a Russian spy, or maybe he's an oligarch moving shipping-loads of crude oil around the world.

Some people become permanent fixtures. There used to be a young man in the churchyard who would stand still for hours on end, staring up at the sky. I haven't seen him for a while; maybe he's been 'taken away'. Nor have I seen my 'Green Lady' for several weeks. She is the one who's covered from head to toe in green plastic rainwear, masks, etc. A very nice lady, who obviously has 'problems'.

So, back to my possible Ethiopian; who, I should add, is a very pleasant guy. We always exchange pleasantries, and I have recently discovered that his name is Al. 

Can you suggest what he might be up to? Answers on a postcard to me here please! 

Naughty, naughty!

Sir Keir 'freebie' Starmer (the UK's Socialist PM), is having problems with the lovely 'Tulip', his 'Anti-Corruption Minister'.

Allegedly, the fragrant Tulip 'freebie' Siddiq (above) accepted the gift of a very nice flat in London's Kings Cross in 2004, worth £700,000, in exchange for services rendered to a property developer called Abdul Motalif..... The Cheeky Minx. 

She tried to lie about it, but the truth has now surfaced. Apparently she'd 'forgotten' how she came to own the flat. Well you do, don't you!!!

This sort of thing is understandably not really encouraged in the UK, in fact for a government minister it's strictly verboten; it's beyond their 'Code of Conduct'.

It's all tied-up with her, and her family back in Bangladesh, having allegedly embezzled £3.9 Billion over some Nuclear Power Plant.

Even though she does seem to fit well into Starmer's new style of government, I think she may 'reluctantly' have to go; even though Starmer claims that he still has confidence in the lovely Tulip.

It's a good thing she wasn't a White Tory shadow Minister, or Starmer would have been DEMANDING her resignation.

Meanwhile, the fragrant Rachel Reeves (our Chancellor of the Exchequer) is off in China meeting her Communist chums, whilst planning to cut 'Disability Payments' back home. 

This really has to end, it's no longer a joke! They are simply doing too much damage to our country and economy.

I LOVE DEBI

 

I suppose my very first car, a white VW Beetle, 323 EBP, will always remain my first automotive love. We did so much together, even eventually moving out to France together in 1973. She had regular clutch problems, which needed changing every couple of years, but otherwise she was trouble-free. A real fun car that was probably my best possible introduction to motoring.

Then I had a 2CV, some Peugeots, and a Renault, before buying myself a ridiculously over-powered Rover SDI 3.5. The Rover was dangerous. It was a bit like driving a Spitfire without the wings. After that it was back to sensible Peugeots.

My present car, Debi (the Compact Royce Mark 2) is everything I want of a car. Every time I climb into the driving seat I feel comfortable and reassured. I know she will start instantly, and will take me to my destination and back again without any hiccups.

In fact I would like to take her out of the garage more often, just for the pleasure. She is more like a well-loved armchair than a car; she and I belong together.

Debi is an estate car, a station wagon, and with the back seats permanently folded down, she becomes a two-seater with space to carry all sorts of things. I recently put a large table in the back with plenty of space left over.

I have never tested her top speed, but she has plenty of oomph. She can hold her own against most others. She has good acceleration, and good brakes. Everything works well.

If I had one small complaint, it would be that changing gear is a tad 'wooden'. I might even spray some WD40 in the relevant 'hole' to see if it makes any difference. 

I'm really looking forward to our hitting the road again in about 2 hours time. Saturday is my big shopping day, and we enjoy our time together.

Bons Vivants Corses (1) - Gueuleton

You will be forgiven for not understanding a word of what they're all saying. Both the Corsican accent and their patois, don't make things easy for us foreigners.

So, here are Arthur and Vincent over on 'The isle of beauty', partaking of all good things.

I must add here that their 'Gun etiquette' is not all it should be. A gun should be pointed downwards at all times when not actually shooting. Behaviour such as at 6 secs should never be tolerated.  And one should never fire horizontally. Bad boys!!! If I'd wandered around with my gun over my shoulder, like a Syrian 'freedom fighter', I would never have been invited back to a shoot ever again.

I've not been to Corsica, but wish I had. It's an island of stunning countryside, and excellent food. 

One of my favourite preserved sausages, Figatelli, comes from Corsica. Figatelli is a classic pork dried sausage which also contains liver. It has a haunting flavour, and should be cooked over wood or charcoal (2.22 in video). 

I would recommend a visit to Corsica, if you have the chance. It is one of the least visited islands, but that could only be a good thing.

Panic.

On Wednesday afternoon a whole 1½ to 2 cms of Snow fell over coastal Sussex; enough to bring everything to a grinding halt.

Trains were cancelled, planes were grounded, and motorways closed. Brighton Rock makers battened-down the hatches, Candy floss became scarcer than Hen's teeth, and the Ghost Train on the pier was boarded-up. A National Emergency was 'almost' announced, and The Army was put on full alert. Weather warnings of all colours were posted everywhere.

Of course, most people simply ignored the appearance of a few flakes of snow, and continued with their normal lives, whilst the Weather Men/Women went into full apoplexy, and predicted the coming of the apocalypse.

I have never understood why the UK always seems so totally unprepared for a little (or even a lot of) snow. It happens almost every year, and we should all be prepared. At our Welsh cottage we were advised to keep TWO WEEKS worth of food in the house. Snow could be melted for water, and a good supply of dry logs was always kept in a shed. Occasionally the drifting snow completely covered the front door, so we were totally trapped, but we saw this as part fun and part initiative test.

So, my advice is, don't do silly things, don't travel, and make sure you have plenty of food in the house.

Most of all, simply pray that the wretched snow melts as quickly as possible; all 2 cms of it. 

 

Sausages (Salamis).

I like to have a selection of dried sausages in the fridge. My favourite being Chorizo which is good as it is, or even better cooked with Chicken.

We don't eat a lot of salami but I do enjoy a few small slices after my lunchtime soup.

The one in the middle is a Polish Kabanos sausage. A 'snacking' sausage that, as a student, I always used to keep in my pocket to nibble at during the day. I no longer do that!

I don't think that the UK makes the most of itself concerning Charcuteie. Our Black Pudding can be excellent (if you can find a good one), but that's almost where it ends. Our Bacon is very good, and so are our Pork Pies, but what else is there?

In France the Charcuterie counter in a supermarket is always HUGE, the choice is massive, and the products superb. I wonder why we don't have a similar love of such things here? We have plenty of Pork, but very few preserved Pork products, other than vacuum-packed slices of Ham.

I opened the 'Black Garlic Chorizo' yesterday. I hadn't had it before, and I probably won't again. It is very bland with a slightly smokey flavour. Not worth the money!

I think there's a great opportunity for someone out there.

 

Scandal

This shell of a building has been like this for over 20 years.

I first knew it as an 'Adult Education Centre', where people with learning difficulties went to spend their days, whilst learning life skills.

I suppose it was our Council who closed it down. It was then sold to a property company who stripped it down to its carcass, with the intention of making it into flats. It has remained as you see it (above) ever since.

The building is in a very expensive and fashionable area of central Brighton, which has a very strict 'Conservation Area' policy. It was a hideous building when it was still being used, and it's even more hideous since its semi-demolition.

I've witnessed several very inappropriate buildings go up since I first started living in Brighton back in 1985, and I always wondered what 'Conservation Area' really means. I somehow imagined that it meant that everything, new and old, should be in keeping with the area's age, style, etc. We cannot replace old wooden windows with UPVC ones, for example.

So, I looked it up, and this is what I found.

 A conservation area is a protected area with special architectural or historic interest that's designated by the local planning authority. The purpose of a conservation area is to preserve or enhance the area's character, appearance, or setting. 

Well, that's what I'd thought too. So how come some really awful buildings pass the scrutiny of the Planning Authority? I know of one row of identical modern houses that look like shipping containers. Really awful, and built right in front of a very smart and expensive Victorian terrace.

One can only imagine that 'Conservation Area' is ignored when convenient!

The Most Reverend, The Right Honourable, Justin Welby GCVO, Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of all England; etc, etc.

 

Welby, has recently resigned over the John Smyth scandal, concerning physical and sexual abuse of young boys. 

Welby has always been a busy-body Woke left-wing vicar. Always poking his nose into political matters that were none of his business. Protecting evil-doers was the least of his faults.

He would have been better off designing himself more and more outrageous and expensive pantomime costumes, silly hats, and jewel encrusted sticks.

These people strut about pontificating. Telling us all how we should behave ("do as I say, not as I do"), and pretending that there are gods and devils up in the sky. They are an absolute disgrace; yet somehow they continue to be respected.

However, it has to be said that the C of E is nowhere near as evil as the Catholics. Rome perfected the manufacture of torture implements, ran institutions (and still do) that ruined the lives of countless women and children, and even instructed French nuns to hand over Jewish children to the Nazis during WW2. I could go on!

It amazes me that in the 21st C we still allow such people to be in positions of authority. In the UK, bishops even sit in The House of Lords, deciding on state legislation.

Don't hold your breath. It looks as if even more bishops could be resigning. More reasons why the church should be disestablished.

What can we expect in '25?

 

I'm no soothsayer, but I suppose certain things are inevitable; and they aren't always nice!

There will be political scandals, accusations of celebs misbehaving, and certain royals making idiots of themselves. There will be 'shock-horror' celeb divorces, weather-based catastrophes, and embarrassing revelations from unforeseen quarters. There will also be 'rap singers' with silly names, killing each other.

Putin will do more saber-rattling, but whether he will escalate WW3 or not is anyone's guess. Trump will accede to the American throne, and will probably broker some peace formula between Russia and Ukraine. Watch his space!

I quite expect Israel will also come to some agreement with Gaza, and re-establish previous supplies of services, food, water, medical help, and hi-tech stuff. With Hamas and Hezbollah almost eradicated, Israel can now concentrate more on Iran.

Back in the UK, illegal immigration will continue to rise, as will taxes, business closures, and unemployment. The Socialists will squeeze every last penny out of us 'for our own good'.

Weather will be 'changeable'. There will be both drought and flooding. Record highs and record lows.

Mostly, there will be dissatisfaction, with people taking to the streets. Political pundits will continue to predict that Starmer will resign. They said he would be gone by Christmas, now they're saying he'll be gone before the end of 2025.

All in all it'll be another tediously annoying year, with price rises across the board, and services diminishing. There will be major problems with the NHS, schools, and domestic services. Bureaucratic Bosses will receive record salaries. There will also be strikes from the major Unions, and our farmers will continue their protests.

So, that's it then. Another typical year ahead. Let's just keep our fingers crossed that some of the more unpredictable world leaders don't have tantrums, and do something stupid.

Good luck!

Abandoned.

The most common objects I see dumped by the side of Rubbish Bins, are old Ironing Boards.

Why do people throw them away?

An Ironing Board is an Ironing Board, is an Ironing Board. They don't need changing or even updating. They aren't objects of fashion where this year's model is more desired than last year's. They are there to perform a simple service, not to be admired or derided. They are not 'designer' objects.

So, what can go wrong with an Ironing Board? The protective material can become burnt, but replacing it could be done by a two-year-old. The bit where you rest the iron itself can become damaged, but, again, it wouldn't be beyond a two-year-old to mend it.

I have no idea how much a new Ironing Board would cost; £30 maybe? So, why chuck the old one (and in such numbers) when a slight repair could be undertaken in minutes.

I would love to know how many Ironing Boards are thrown away each year. In Brighton alone it must be HUNDREDS.

The only other object that comes even close to the number of dumped Ironing Boards, is that of Office Swivel Chairs. They're EVERYWHERE too!

 

Disposable Income.

We're all used to seeing comparative charts about the 'best and worst', or 'prettiest or ugliest', but this one was new to me.

It is generally accepted that Brighton residents are not short of a bob or two. You only have to drive around to see the huge expensive houses, and fancy cars. The city exudes an aura of wealth (which not all of us can claim to possess). It is just an hour from London, it's by the sea, and claims to have 600 restaurants; what more could you want. This chart (below) appeared in the press recently.

I find the chart quite interesting. A monthly disposable income of £1,300 is NOT really what I would describe as great wealth, with Londoners having £300 less.  A weekly spending facility of around £300 is not huge. A couple of meals out and a visit to the Theatre over the weekend, and you'd be back at the Food Bank before lunch on Tuesday.

I imagine by 'Disposable Income' they mean available money left over after all 'essential' expenses have been paid; i.e. money that we spend on food, drink, sweets, clothes, etc. Life is so expensive these days, that one wouldn't have thought that the sums they quote would go very far. Poorer families who live on tattoo ink and expensive takeaways would soon find that they are over their limits.

Of course things do tend to be a bit quite pricey down here. House prices are silly, rents are prohibitive, and enjoying yourself doesn't come cheaply. I am old, and no longer go out too much, so I'm not a big spender; a few pints now and again. Staying in to read a book costs nothing.

In the past decade or so, people have been selling-up in London, and moving down here en masse. Life in London is not what it was, and people feel unsafe with immigrant criminal gangs whizzing about on E bikes, stealing phones or stabbing people. Londoners move here and instantly feel safer and healthier, they also find that they have a bit of extra cash in their hands, as property prices in central London exceed those of Brighton.

Personally I do manage to save a wee bit of my Disposable Income each month, then usually something comes along to consume it all. One step forward, two steps back.

I've never actually cared too much about money, spending power, bank balances, etc. I've never chased after money, and as such have never had much of it. As long as I'm solvent at the end of each year; I'm HAPPY. But it's quite nice to know that my neighbours are all reasonably well-off.

 

Pêche aux écrevisses

Here are Arthur and Vincent, those cheeky Bons Vivants, doing what they do best; eating and drinking out in the French countryside.

Today they are in Toulouse, catching, preparing, and eating those pesky American écrevisses, that are destroying our European variety.

May I suggest that if you live near a stream, you buy yourself a cheap plastic Crayfish Pot, and do as the boys were doing. If you leave your baited pot overnight, you should have enough for a good meal.

Just listen to that Toulouse accent! It's much the same accent as where we live nearby in France. I love it. 

Serious FRAUD. Watch How Yvette Cooper fooled the WASPI's.

"Get out there Yvette, and convince them that you support them! Then once they've voted for us we'll tell them we've changed our minds. It'll work, I promise you; they're just a bunch of gullible old women".

Sadly, this is exactly how it was. One minute you promise people one thing, then once you've gained their confidence, you kick them where it hurts.

Shouldn't this type of electoral fraud be punishable by law? If I had my way the fragrant Yvette Cooper would up before The Beak, and sentenced to five years hard Labour (which is what the rest of us have got!).

 

New year resolutions.

 

1. To run seven 'marathons' each week.

2. To become a strict vegan.

3. To visit N Korea for a fun-filled holiday.

4. To join Jeremy Corbyn's Fan Club.

5. To wear white Nike 'training shoes'.

6. To walk around using my mobile phone, and wearing a rucksack.

7. To buy all my clothes from Primark.

8. To pay a first visit to McDonalds.

9. To buy an electric car.

10. To go to church every Sunday.

Well, I didn't keep any of my last year's resolutions so I might as well try this lot for 2025.