Spot the Difference

I was 'Karchering' around the pool yesterday; cleaning away all the Winter muck and growth on the flagstones (the beach).

I also had a go at our poolside bench under the Fig tree.

It is now once again 'Wood Colour', and looks sittable-on. Even Lady Magnon approves.

Slowly but surely; we're getting there.

In fact we ARE now 'there'. The pool water is sparkling, and inviting. The flagstones are all as clean as they'll ever be. And the Lutyens bench is demonstrably made of WOOD. 

In celebration of which I opened a bottle of Champagne (Saumur) last night. All our efforts were worthy of a few bubbles methought!

Even my 'mechanic' brought-back Rory yesterday evening (Rory is my ride-on mower). Rory had a 'starting problem' which is now FIXED. 

Things are going well.

 

Things I've missed.

Having made my own Bacon in the past, I know how easy it it to create a really delicious product that doesn't seep 'gunge' when cooking.

This Bacon (below) is sliced from a slab and is totally delicious. Why can't all Bacon be made like this? Back in the UK I've almost given-up buying ready-sliced packs of Bacon; instead I now only buy Sainsbury's Bacon 'steaks', that come as two 'rounds' of Bacon in a pack, and are very good.

If I had an easy supply of good quality UK Belly Pork, I would still make my own bacon; but alas.....

Another favourite product that I can't buy back in the UK is Figatelli. This is a Corsican dried sausage that contains Liver. The Liver gives it a haunting flavour that is unlike any other.

It's a very dark and brooding sausage (possibly not to everyone's taste) but for aficionados it's addictive; I have to stop myself heading for the fridge for just 'one more slice'.

The other thing I've probably missed most are my cookery books. All my Rick Stein books, and Elizabeth David, and others. I love re-reading them and trying out different nuances in my dishes. These books (some of which are below) are in the 'Tower', and on really hot afternoons that's where you'll find me, flicking through the pages of some Italian or Mediterranean recipe book.

The pool is now perfectly clean, and at about 24 C is swimmable. In this heat I cannot tell you what a pleasure that is.

This afternoon (yesterday) it's 30 C in the shade, so perfect weather for swimming. The flagstones haven't yet been 'Karchered', but we didn't care; they can wait. Here is Lady M enjoying a few lengths, with Billy admiring her bravery. It was BRACING. The pool looks very narrow in the photo; it's actually 4 metres wide. It looks about 3 metres wide; cameras do lie!

Bloody Nutters.

 

The world's population is estimated to be around 8.2 Billion, out of which just a small handful of men cannot behave themselves. They are a bunch of total idiots and warmongers.

Putin, general secretary Xi, some Ayatollah or other, and Kim ' baby face' Jong Un (plus a few irrational terrorist group leaders), seem to think they have the right to involve the rest of us in their (mostly Communist) expansionist policies by killing people they don't like. 

Well, I for one don't want any part in it, so if they really insist on letting off big bombs, would they please do it on their own soil, and kill their own people. Don't exercise your hang-ups on the rest of us peace-loving folk.

I hear that those charming mullahs in Iran, are now threatening the USA, the UK, and France (I can't escape). Don't those Iranian Shia Muslims believe in peace, sanctity of life, or even the freedom of thought? Obviously not!

One of the most bizarre revelations of the current Iran/Israel conflict is that many Iranians are actually supporting Netanyahu. They want their repressive regime to fall, and they don't wish to see their country destroyed. Perhaps one massive collective assault on Tehran would bring Khomeini to his senses, and he'd raise his white flag. I hear that Iranians have even been spotted shouting "Death to Ayatollah".

As I learned on Day 1 of my Officer Training course; 'know your enemy, go in hard, go in strong'! That's the only way to get this conflict over and done with quickly.

But, please, LEAVE ME OUT OF IT!

Sandy Powell

This act probably seems rather 'old hat' these days, but in his day (Yorkshireman) Sandy Powell was one of the biggest stars of Music Hall. Some might remember his famous catch-phrase "Can you hear me Mother?".

I worked with him in a variety show. I was a student at the time, and had taken a holiday job as ASM (Assistant Stage Manager). Powell wasn't an easy man to work with, he was a cantankerous old codger, often sozzled, and didn't like being told what to do. I often had difficulty getting him on stage. 

On one occasion he was watching some Football match on TV in his dressing room, and refused to go on. I had to hurriedly reorganise the whole evening's running order to cope with his absence. He went on later (reluctantly).

Here he is performing what was probably his most well-known, and well-loved, sketch, as a ventriloquist. The long-suffering assistant was his lovely wife Kaye. How she put-up with him, I shall never know!

The shocking reality

Once all the leaves and water on the pool's winter cover were removed, and the cover itself taken away, this is what we were left with (below). YUK!

It's the same every year. The water level was low, the water itself a nasty green colour, and the flagstones in desperate need of the Karcher.

We need the water level to rise before we can turn on the pump, and start treating and cleaning the water. With just a garden hose (by Billy's feet) it takes a long time to reach the desired level.

Once the water is circulating, and the chemicals added, we can think about cleaning the flags. It'll be at least another couple of days until we can actually swim.

As it happens, we're having a short spell of cooler weather with some rain, then on Monday the heat returns, and we are to have 30-35 C for a couple of weeks; so it has worked out quite well.

I can hardly wait to get those flagstones clean. It always looks so grubby when we open up. The Karcher does a great job. I will clean the Lutyens chair at the same time, it's covered in lichens.

By Tuesday or Wednesday, it should all look like this (below). 

In fact, by late afternoon yesterday it was already a nice blue colour. All the muck has now gathered on the bottom; ready for me to vacuum tomorrow (today). 

Happy times ahead!

 

Back to the old routine.

First things first, so it was off to the woods at first-light (7 am). Amazingly, no-one seems to have visited my mushrooming spot.

This (below) is part of the view from the front of our house, and, in the distance, is where my mushrooms grow. As you can see, it is all very tranquil. The pale treetops are Chestnuts, which are all in flower; the aroma is all-invading.

As I said above, it seems as if no-one had been to my mushroom patch for a while; there were Girolles everywhere. In fact I picked far too many. Omelet tonight.

We had a good shopping trip to Leclerc, but for some odd reason there were already crowds of people there waiting for the 9 am opening time (My Sainsbury's in England opens at 7 am). I don't enjoy being jostled by crowds in a supermarket.

However, we did manage to buy a few essentials, including a magnum of Pétrus 1971 (ask no questions, and I shall tell no lies), and a couple of bottles of our favourite fizzy Saumur. I shall buy more Saumur on Tuesday; it's always good to have a ready supply. This stuff is as good as Champagne any day!!!

But, not everything goes smoothly. At midnight last night we had a small storm. Thunder, lightning, and rain. I suddenly remembered that I'd left the car windows open, so up I got, torch in hand, and walked through the rain to the car (about 50 yards), and closed them. Rain seems to be a thing of the past in Brighton, so I wasn't expecting any here either!

This morning, whilst it's still reasonably cool, we shall clean the pool cover of all its dead leaves, etc, and hopefully pump off all the water.

Lady M is becoming restless. SHE NEEDS TO SWIM.

Journey completed.

French roads are a real pleasure to drive on. They are comparatively quiet, without potholes, and extremely well sign-posted. Our two day drive south was without incident, and (amazingly) without getting lost. Our new little gadget for getting through the 'T' gates on the Péage roads worked perfectly, and unlike the old one, the new one 'pings' when you go through.

It was hot on leg 1 of our trip, and very hot on leg 2. Billy slept for most of the way, and was really excited when we reached home. Our gardener popped-in to see us with his Black Lab', and the two of them had a wonderful time playing together. I suspect, like us, Billy's very pleased to be back.

I gave the lawn a quick trim, looked at all the growth everywhere else, and decided to leave it for another day.

By early evening we were both EXHAUSTED, so, after a nice bottle of Pécharmant, and a slice of Lady M's Quiche, we sat outside enjoying the warm evening air, watching the Buzzards flying, and listening to the Crickets 'chirping'.

Tomorrow we might attack the pool. It's certainly swimming weather.

But before we do anything else, we'll go SHOPPING to Leclerc. I have a long list of delights to bring home!

 

Preparations

I've made a list of things to take to France; and also of a few things to bring back.

On the 'take' list are just a few food items. Essential Indian curry pastes, spices, and pickles have become harder to find since Brexit, so it's safer for me to take my own 'just in case'. Most other European foods are readily available, but it's the Indian ones I would miss.

On the 'bring back' list there are also a few food items. My favourite Spaghetti (Panzani) is top of the list and I shall return with at least 3 kilos. Otherwise a few favourite 'small' antiques, photos, books, and a few tins of Paté, Squid, and Octopus that I can't buy here. I shall also return with some DIY things; drill bits, a glue gun, and my soldering iron, that occasionally I need.

We try to travel as light as possible, but somehow it never happens. It always becomes a matter of reducing the excess weight to the minimum. That 'minimum' invariably remains too much.

At least we don't go, and return, with suitcases filled with clothes; we both run two sets of wardrobes; one for the UK and another for France, which makes life easier. 

The Compact Royce (Debi) has now had her Service and MOT, so she's all ready to go. My service garage also cleaned her inside and out, so she is spotless. The ferry and our 'half-way' hotel are both booked; we can hardly wait!!!

I probably won't be around for a day or two, but I'll be back. Toodle pip!

Audrey Hepburn Sings Moon River - BEST QUALITY

John (Going Gently) recently posted a beautiful video of a man playing 'Moon River' on the piano, for an Elephant (who was listening attentively).

I love that song, but for me it has to be sung by my boyhood crush, Audrey Hepburn.

Who sang your favourite version?

A view from the sidelines

For a non-church-goer, I probably seem strangely obsessed by churches. In fact churches have played an important part in my life since I was a wee choirboy in my Surrey village church.

I do love old churches. I love the architecture, the history, and the pivotal position they hold in a community. Regardless of whether or not I believe in their doctrine, I DO believe in their role as part of our traditional English society.

Above is our church here in Brighton, very close to where I live. In many ways it is not dis-similar to our village church in France, below, which still dominates life in certain respects.

Not only does everything of note take place around the eglise itself, in my French village, but it is the highest, and tallest building in the area, and can be seen from miles away. I think it's about 2 kms from our front door, and we can see the spire clearly; and hear the bells.

Two lovely old churches. Ours being very much alive with a full-time priest (Father D), a side-kick assistant curate priest (Father P), a choir, and several very keen acolytes who really enjoy doing all the organising (in what they call 'the catholic tradition'). A nice bunch of people, and all very friendly; we'll miss the annual Dog Show this year. It's on 21st June, and we'll be elsewhere.

The other (in France) has no regular priest (they do occasionally have a Polish one), just the occasional service, and the only regular activity being poorly-attended funerals.

It seems that France has fallen out-of-love with religion; they can't even find trainee priests. The church itself is slowly becoming simply an assembly point, or village hall; but at least they do look after the structure. 

These days, the main 'church' event of the year is the annual Brocante (boot sale), this year on 27th July, with hundreds of stalls sited all around the perimeter of the church itself. It's always a wonderful day, and I never fail to buy a few bargain antiques. I'm looking forward to it (see below).

Hanging-up his pads.

 

Kimbo has just informed me that TOMORROW (Sunday) will be his final Cricket match. His illustrious Cricketing career is coming to an end.

BUT, there is a bonus. It's not just any old match. For his final match he's playing against ENGLAND.

"BLIMEY!" I said. Playing against ENGLAND!!! That's amazing.

"Yes" he replied "England's over 70's team.

"But you're not over 70" I said in disbelief.

"No, our team are over 50's".

"So some of your team could well be over 70 then!" 

"I doubt it" he replied; laughing.

"Right; so it's you team's over 50's, against ex-England players over 70's team. Who will win?"

"We will, of course" he replied with his usual confidence. "They'll all be using Zimmer frames or disability scooters".

"Well good luck" I said. "Don't let us down".

I don't know if W G Grace, Len Hutton, or Geoffrey Boycott will be playing , but it should be a great match. I'll let you know what happened (depending on the result).

Pool life

 

I probably say the same thing every year, but pool ownership isn't all sipping Pimms, and lounging amidst bikini-clad beauties. There are plenty of downsides.

Firstly the pool has been covered all through the winter months, and the black plastic tarp' will be deep in rotting leaves, about a foot of stinking water, and probably plenty of Frogspawn. It's never a pleasant sight.

After the majority of the leaves have been removed, the water has to be pumped off; I have a small electric pump for this but it gets easily blocked. Once the water is mostly gone, the last of the leaves have to be removed, and the black plastic winter cover taken-off, cleaned, dried, and folded away.

Then, and only then, can one look into the water. Usually it's not too bad, but there are always a few mysteries, dead Frogs, etc, on the bottom, and the whole thing needs to be well cleaned, and the chemicals added. This complete process takes a minimum of two or three days.

Then comes the tidying, cleaning, gardening, etc. 9 months with no attention means that the whole pool area is a mess!

We need to clean all the dirt from the surrounding flagstones (the beach). I now have a Karcher type pressure hose, and it does a great, if time consuming, job. 

By this time things are looking better. If it hasn't rained, it will have taken at least a week, and all that remains is to trim back the overgrowth, cut the wretched flowers/seeds off the Palm trees, and do general tidying.

What will the water temperature be? Well, after opening it tends to be quite low; well under 20 C. If the sun shines it will take a few days to reach our minimum swimming temperature of 22 C. 

I'm NOT looking forward to the task, but at least afterwards it should look like the above!

First Car.

My grandson, Suave Harve, has just passed his driving test (at first attempt), so the search is on to buy him a cool, simple, and reliable car.

Kimbo found this beauty on a Moroccan web site. It's a 1986 Renault 4, which has served its life as a Radio outside broadcast car. It was offered at 10,000 Dirhams (about £2,000).

Just imagine the looks you'd get, driving around in this!!! It's the epitome of COOL. I've owned a Renault 4 myself, and they are great cars. Very easy to tinker with, and lots of fun. The fabulous advertising is simply an extra bonus.

Kimbo is trying to find someone who'd be willing to drive it up to England (for a generous fee). We're still waiting to hear if anyone will do it.

Coming from Morocco, it'll probably be rust-free too. No Rusty-Renaults for us!

I would have loved this as a first car. I had a VW Beetle instead.

However, being realistic, I think there may be too many obstacles to overcome in order to get it here. We'll see!

On my own personal search I found this below, which I thought he'd like. It's a 3-wheeler Lomax, based on a 1980 2CV. Nice, but not too good in the rain! A bargain at £2,500, but I expect the insurance would be phenomenal.

 

Some Brighton sights. 3. 6. 25.

It was a cool and blustery day, so it was back to wearing jacket and scarf. Not what I was expecting for the third day of June.

I just loved these 'Daisy' type flowers sprouting from the bottom of a gravestone. They simply looked perfect; as if they belonged there.

Further along the path that goes around the exterior of the dog-park I came across this. 'You were here' scratched onto the ground with some Downland Chalk. Thank you to whoever wrote it. I was wondering where I'd been!

Then over the road from the park I saw this. Some bloody idiot had taken his filthy old mattress, and (I imagine at night) had dumped it by the entrance to the churchyard in a newly built flower bed. I'm used to seeing abandoned ironing boards and office chairs, but I've never seen a dumped mattress before in central Brighton. PIGS.

Such things really do make you lose some faith in human nature. 

As someone famously said "Tomorrow is another day".

Diet.

I won't show you the 'before' photo, but I've been on a no-wine-diet since April 22nd. I started at 15 stone 9 lbs, and I now weigh 15 stone 2 lbs. i.e. a loss of 7 lbs  without the aid of pills or potions.

Not a great weight-loss you might say, but I do feel a bit better, and have absolutely no desire to grab a bottle of rouge. 

I SHALL, of course, be drinking wine through the Summer months, but not in the quantities that I previously did. Perhaps one glass with my evening meal, and no more.

Lady M tells me I'm looking less 'bloated', and I think she's right. Looking at this recent photo (above), I think I can see some 'improvement', although in my case almost anything would have been an improvement. 

My aim was to be under 15 stone before the swimming-season. I think I'm still roughly on track.

When I first dip my toe into the pool, I shall weigh 14 stone 13.9 pounds MAXIMUM.

I shall try to stay amongst the 14 stones. I am about 6 ft tall.

 

Tis the season....

Just as we eat Asparagus at least twice a week at the moment (on my shopping days), we are now eating Strawberries even more often.

Whether they be eaten at Wimbledon, Ascot, Glyndebourne, Hickstead, or even at home, a few Strawberries always makes the world a better place. 

We always used to eat them with a very light sprinkling of White Sugar, but we have now changed that to Light Brown Muscovado. It adds another dimension, without spoiling the flavour.

The Garden Strawberry (as we now know it) was originally bred in Northern France in the 1750's, which is probably why my favourite variety remains the French Gariguette (below) with it's distinctive upward pointing 'crown'. We buy ours (in France) from a lovely lady who runs a roadside stall. 

Gariguette are amongst the very best flavoured fruits, with a hint of wild Strawberry, and an unrivalled aroma.

I do have a few Strawberry plants in France, which are in pots. There are always a few fruits on them, but only enough to grab one or two whilst passing. I really should plant some more; they look after themselves whilst we're away.

 

Foolish pedestrian gets instant karma

It's Sunday, so we need something light-hearted to start the day.

What was the point of shouting and gesticulating at a motorist who has just stopped at a red light to let you cross the road?

This silly man deserved everything he got. Watch it several times. Enjoy!

Cake.

Not only does Lady Magnon make a very good Tarte Tatin, and exceptionally good Mince Pies, but she is also a dab-hand at making Mary Berry's 'Banana and Honey Tea Bread' (cake).

I've never been a cake-maker myself, but I was once so impressed by a cake recipe in Elle a Table magazine, that I had to have a go. It was an olive and bacon cake (savoury cake), and not only did it come-out perfect in every sense, but it was also delicious. If you can find the recipe, I would recommend it.

We do enjoy a bit of cake with our afternoon cup of Lapsang, and this Banana Cake is perfect. It's not too sweet, it is very tasty, and one cake usually lasts for about 4 days. I believe it takes just TWO ripe Bananas, and a few store-cupboard essentials.

She also makes a very good Lemon Drizzle cake, and the occasional Cheesecake; although Cheesecake can hardly be called a 'Cake'.

 

Houses of Parliament Sauce.

I never liked HP Sauce. I last tasted it in the 70's (or even before), and found it far too acidic and overbearing.

I've also always associated it with people such as Harold Wilson; so you can imagine my aversion.

Kimbo and I have breakfast together once a week, and he has brought his own bottle of HP which he keeps here. He cannot have his full-English-breakfast without it.

So, I thought I'd give it a second chance, and I must admit that I quite liked it. I'm sure that they must have changed their recipe as it wasn't at all acidic.

If it was my own bottle I would add some sugar or honey to sweeten it a bit, but even as it is, it's OK.

Looking at the list of ingredients in HP there are many similarities to Worcestershire Sauce, but it's a very different product. It's a thick sauce (a bit the texture of ketchup), rather than a liquid sauce.

It won't be replacing my Lea and Perrins, but in times of emergency I certainly wouldn't say no to HP.

Will I be buying any in the near future? I think not, but I shall reflect on the idea!

Kimbo will be here any minute for our weekly breakfast together. I must put his HP on the table.

 

Morning Routine.

I suppose most of us live by 'routine'; I know I certainly do.

I am the current guardian of 'The Family Clock'. Made for the family in 1735, it has remained with us ever since. 

It's not a grand clock. It has a very simple wooden case, and it has no frills. It's a simple country-made affair that has been telling the time for nearly three hundred years.

My Father knew his time was limited when he asked me to drive him down to visit his cousin in Hendon; London. Having given us an uncooked Chicken for lunch, she suddenly pronounced that I was to be the family clock's next guardian; there was no-one else. I was neither pleased nor upset; I simply accepted the duty, and loaded it into the car, along with an antique corner cupboard that she also said I should look after.

Luckily the clock has not needed too much maintenance. I did have it 'serviced' once, but it needed no repairs; just a small amount of internal cleaning of the mechanism. It was the repair man who told me its date.

I 'wind' the clock every morning. It works on a pully system, and requires a lead weight to be delicately lifted. It would keep going for two days, but I 'wind' it every day.

Sometimes I sit and listen to its tick, just as my ancestors must have done. In the days before radio and TV, the only sound in the house, other than a crackling fire, would have been the constant ticking of the long-case clock. Its time would have been set against the more accurate clock on the village church tower. Who the church would have used to check that their clock was telling the right time, I have no idea. 

The clock does have a chime, but I have 'disabled' it for the moment.

The clock will go to Kimbo, and then to his oldest son Suave Harve. It is never to be sold; just handed-on to the next family custodian. There is no reason why it shouldn't continue to tell the time for another 300 years.

 

Phoebe Hessel; a True Heroine.

One of the more distinguished graves in our churchyard, is that of Phoebe Hessel (above).

Hessel was a TRUE HEROINE. She followed her lover into the army (dressed as a man) and they served together in many battles. Eventually both she and her lover were wounded at The Battle of Fontenoy in 1745. Later, when her wounds were being dressed by the Colonel's wife, her secret was revealed. 

After her Service Career, she became a fish-seller in Brighton, and was a well-loved local character. Even The Prince Regent (later King George IV) appreciated her and her exploits, and he granted her a generous pension.

Hessel died in 1821 aged 108, and I walk past her grave twice daily.

If you have a moment it's worth looking at her Wiki page, to see her full exploits. An amazing woman!

 

Solar Panels

Recent news that China has secretly included a cut-off system in their exported Solar Panels is worrying to say the least.

They apparently have the ability to close down most of the world's major solar farms at the click of a switch. How on earth did we allow this to happen?

The success of the Chinese economy is based on The West's greater earnings and spending-power. We send our money over to China, whilst our own industries go to the wall. People are now even buying CHINESE CARS for heaven's sake!

This new possible problem with solar panels (which could bring us and other Western countries to our knees) is all of our own making. Why are we not producing our own panels? Potential UK manufacturers are being priced out of manufacturing, whilst China keeps production prices down and swamps international markets. Who are the fools?

I am always very conscious of where things are made, and sadly we cannot escape 'everything' that comes from China. Perhaps ALL British made products should exhibit a small Union Flag telling us as much.

The world is blindly walking towards 'renewable energy', and Net-Zero, as if it's the Saviour of the Planet, but may I suggest that we continue to exploit 'fossil fuels' as well. If the Chinese block all our solar power, at least we'd still have oil, hydro, natural gas, and maybe even some coal (although finding anyone to dig it out would be a problem).

I recently looked on Wiki to discover who makes those huge windmills we now see everywhere. Well, it'll come as no surprise that the majority of them are made in China. If they control both our solar and our wind production of electricity; we really could end-up in the 'ess aitch eye tea'. 

Who would have imagined that 'Eco solar and wind power' could hide such sinister secrets?

RIP Alan Yentob

 

I was very shocked and saddened to hear of my friend Alan's death yesterday. It was the opening subject of yesterday's lunchtime news on BBC1.

Alan and I were at school together. We were contemporaries, and both being southerners we naturally tended to stick together.

In the above photo Alan is third from the right in the top row, and I am third from the left in the middle row. Alan's brother Robert is on the far right of the top row. Between the two brothers is my other very good friend, Aubrey 'Po' Powell, who found fame designing album covers, etc.

We both entered our upper school in 1960, and left together in 1964. Alan went on to study at The Sorbonne, and I went into The City. We kept in touch for several years, then, when I moved to France in 1973, that rather dwindled to just Christmas cards, etc.

Alan had an illustrious career with the BBC, being both Controller of BBC1 and BBC2, he was even in line for the job as Director General at one time. His arts programmes, especially 'Arena' and 'Imagine', were ground-breaking, and brought a new aspect of the arts to the viewing public, he will also be remembered for commissioning many well loved dramas and sit-coms. He made a huge contribution to our more 'serious' TV viewing.

He has been described as 'One of British culture's defining figures'.

I was really shocked to hear of his death. I send my condolences to his family and his brothers.

Potatoes

I love potatoes. Like eggs; what WOULD we do without them?

I love them roasted, chipped, mashed, sautéed, on a cottage pie, in brandade, as bubble and squeak, in an Irish stew, and especially baked in the ash-tray of our wood burner. 

I'm not a great connoisseur of the different varieties of potato, but frankly I've not yet met a variety that I didn't like. 

I rarely buy fancy varieties, but once a year (around now) I do buy one small bag of Jersey Royals. Otherwise, I never buy coloured or strange shaped varieties, as I think you are paying extra for 'novelty'.

What could be more comforting than a big 'dollop' of smooth mashed potato, topped with a generous amount of butter and some freshly chopped parsley. I would serve that to The King, and I know that he'd love it.

If I was asked what I would save from my burning house; the rice, the spaghetti, or the potatoes, there is no question, it would have to be that bag of glorious spuds.

I regularly grew my own potatoes at Haddock's, and the excitement of digging-up fresh tubers never diminished. I just wish I was still growing them today.

So, long live the glorious potato. May they never be blighted!

 

Community.

 

Billy and I left the house, as usual, by the back gate. A lady I know waved as soon as we appeared; she was heading in the other direction, so we didn't talk.

Around the corner we met 'Bluebeard'. He has 'gardenified' the twitten behind our garages (above), with flower-filled planters. I call him 'Bluebeard' because he dyes his beard different colours (possibly according to his mood), and more often than not it's blue. He calls me 'darling', and we chat about his one Potato plant that he's mixed-in with all his flowers. He does a really great job. He was watering as we spoke.

Up by the church, I see Father Dominic rushing towards the vestry door, He waves and says a cheery 'Hello'; I reply with my usual 'Hello Father'.

Once in the 'Rest Garden' I release Billy from his lead and he rushes off to play with his friends. I chat to a few fellow dog-walkers, mostly women, then bask in the warm sunshine as I slowly walk my usual circuit.

Half way round I meet John and his skateboarding Black Lab'. He tells me of doing Shakespeare in New York, and some other thespian pursuits. He's quite a character.

I chat to a few more dog owners as I finish my circuit. Just small-talk, but very pleasant.

I leave the Rest Garden, cross the road, and enter the churchyard near where the German Messerschmidt crashed 82 years ago. I spot two soberly dressed men by the church tower, and see Father Dominic heading their way. 'Funeral?' I ask. He nods.

As I head for the exit of the churchyard, I spot my black friend with his nose stuck in his phone (as usual). He waves and I go over for a chat. He tells me that he used to live in Glasgow, and said what lovely people they are up there. We natter about the state of the world, and I leave the churchyard with Billy back on his lead.

On the other side of the road are a bunch of workmen sitting on the steps of the house they're working on. They all stroke Billy, and make light conversation. 

I head a few metres further down the hill then turn left into my road. One of my neighbours who is working on The Bishop's house stops for a chat, then I'm home; by the front door.

I sit down indoors and feel very contented. Our little community has come-up trumps. I'm very happy with where I live. 

Water, water, everywhere...

I watched The News on TV, almost in disbelief. They were warning us (yet again) of a water shortage this Summer.

Yes, I know it's hardly rained down here this year, but generally the UK is not short of rain. In parts of the country it usually rains 360 days a year, but not this year. 

This recent drastic mains burst (above) was near Gloucester, and is not too uncommon.

I remember reading some time ago that a staggering 40% of our water is lost through small underground burst pipes; apparently too many for the Water Co's to do anything about. So it's hardly surprising that we are short of a few gallons!

Whilst the bosses of the Water Co's take home HUGE salaries, the rest of us are threatened with ever-higher bills, and dried-up taps. We are being told to shower for shorter periods, and not to let the tap run whilst brushing our teeth, etc. Maybe not to drink too much either!

So, will someone in authority please pull your bloody finger out. We need Water just as much as we need Farmers.

What is more important than good clean drinking water (and home grown food)?

 

Protection

This must be one of the saddest and most disturbing things I've seen for many years.

UK school-children are being invited on 'social media' to buy stab-proof vests. The situation in many inner city schools is now so bad that children not only go to school armed, but are also being advised to go with protection against being attacked. 

Certain communities seem to stab each other as a first resort. They see their hero 'rap singers' doing it, so they blindly imitate.

How on earth have we come to such a situation? People have always stabbed each other, but not children, and not in such numbers.

Unfortunately one cannot rid the country of knives; every kitchen contains dozens. I suppose the only solution is to have all children walk through metal detectors when they arrive at school every morning.

What a very sad state of affairs. 

 

Chelsea Pensioners.

One of the most popular sights in London, especially around the Chelsea area, are the Chelsea Pensioners in their bright red uniforms and tricorn hats. It's always a pleasure to see them. The Pensioners are all OAP British War Veterans.

They live at The Royal Chelsea Hospital, but wander around The Kings Road like the rest of us.

I worked in Chelsea, and lived for a while in Bramerton Street, just off the Kings Road, where the pensioners were a regular sight. One would always greet them when they passed by, and if they came into a Pub' where one was drinking, it was traditional to buy them their pints; which I did on several occasions.

It was accepted that they would only have one free pint, so they would move-on to another Pub' and have another free one there. Their thirsts were endless, and they took full advantage.

So, if you should meet one in a London Pub'; buy him a pint. He'll appreciate it.

 

Biba, Biba.

 

Anyone of around my age or a tad younger (who lived in London in the late 60's and early 70's) would know not only know the clothes shop 'Biba', but also know of its influence over the UK fashion business.

The shop's founder, Barbara Hulanicki, had studied at the Brighton Art College (as did Lady M), and in 1965 she opened her very first clothes shop not far from where we live. They had teething problems and after a couple of years they moved to London.

I haplessly became quite a regular visitor to the new Church Street Ken shop. Girlfriends always wanted to go there (usually on Saturdays) and I often found myself forking-out for dresses.

One of the benefits of my Biba visits was meeting-up with 'The Twins' (above). They had been at the Brighton shop, and moved up to London in 1967 (?). They became an integral part of the shop's ambiance. I didn't get to know them socially, but we always had a chat, and were pleased to see each other.

Biba was quite a remarkable shop. It was always filled with crowds of beautiful girls, all trying on dresses, and creating havoc. There were half naked girls everywhere, with clothes all over the floor and elsewhere. The twins had their work cut-out just trying to keep the place tidy, and under control.

Later, Biba became 'a bit too big for their boots', and they moved into the vast old Derry and Toms shop on High Street Ken, where they branched out into household goods, a café, and even a restaurant. I remember thinking that the name 'Biba' had lost its 'original edge'. The only things I bought there were some Indian bedspreads, which we still have, and now use as dustsheets.

I'm not sure what happened after that but Barbara lost control of the company, and it eventually closed.

But what a real sensation it had once been! Great memories.

His one and only joke!

 

Something recently reminded me of my father, and his somewhat serious demeanor.

My late Father was quite 'stiff upper lip'. He had been 'traditionally' educated, and had studied accountancy (to a basic level) before working in The City for a major clothing manufacturer of the pre and wartime era.

He was a hard worker, and didn't go in for much in the way of frippery. He wasn't the most gregarious person, but he was well liked and highly respected. His idea of fun was climbing hills and mountains with his best friend, and best man, JS.

Father didn't play games or do anything that he considered infra dig, so you can imagine my surprise when he suddenly came out with a JOKE, one Sunday, at the dinner table...... viz

Enoch drove the horse and trap to pick-up his employer Lady Constance at the railway station. On the way home the horse let off an enormous fart. "I'm sorry about that your Ladyship" said Enoch apologetically. "Oh that's all right, Enoch" said Lady Constance "Actually I'd thought it was the horse".

That was it. Father's one and only joke; but a good one, I hope you agree!

I've heard it many times since; always in slightly different forms.

Crash

On 18th May 1943, exactly 82 years ago, this German Messerschmitt 410A crashed into our nearby churchyard. It was returning from having killed people in London, and (I presume) was shot down before crossing The Channel, and heading for home.

The pilot was found hanging from a tree; dead. And his co-pilot landed in the sea and drowned. No-one from Brighton was injured. The church is about 500 metres from the sea, so how they managed to be found so far apart is a mystery.

This (below) is the very spot today. You can see the Stone Archway (top right) into the Rest Garden in both photos. It's the entrance to where I walk with Billy twice a day.

It certainly looks a lot more peaceful now than it did in 1943.