The one thing that is 'booming'.

 

The UK's only real booming industry is importation. We import lots of undesirable humans.

We send our 'Border Force' boats out into the middle of The Channel to bring them to our shores in their thousands, then we spend more and more money looking after them in nice hotels, etc. We also spend a fortune on lawyers who argue for their 'human rights' when we try to deport them.

Being an illegal immigrant is the only really true expanding business in the UK. The only one where there is no unemployment. The only one where the injection of cash seems endless.

The Labour Party have been holding their annual conference, and Starmer tells us that anyone decrying the seemingly endless invasion (especially Farage and his chums) are RACISTS, and that they "hate Britain". After such a disgusting outburst by a desperate Prime Minister, I am now seriously considering voting for Farage at the next election. 

Starmer old chap, I think it's about time you started to see the light. The British people have had enough; they are thoroughly pissed-off with you and your bloody woke-folk human rights.

STOP PRESS: We hear today that the Nephew of a well-known Taliban Commander has been awarded refugee status by an English Immigration Judge, and will be allowed to bring SEVEN family members to join him from Turkey. None of these people speak any English, and none have professions/jobs. They have no connection with the UK whatsoever, and no means of support! Can you imagine what that will cost us? It simply gets worse and wokey-bloody-worse.

Those who try to defend the Britishness of Britain are NOT RACISTS, nor do they 'hate Britain', as Starmer suggests. They are people who pay taxes for the likes of him to squander on pampering foreign illegal immigrants, and they find that very annoying. They are patriots.

And as for him sending in his 'Starmer-troopers' to tear union flags from the hands of teenagers (above), this will only make people more patriotic. He can tear down or confiscate as many of our national flags as he likes, but he will never destroy the British spirit.

If you can't see that, Starmer, then you aren't fit to run a bloody whelk-stall; let alone a whole country.

And, by the way, when you said "Stop the Boats", what did you mean? You are paying £500 Million to France for their assistance with stopping the illegal migrants; so how many have they stopped? Are we getting good value for money?

SOME TIME LATER: Starmer has now stated that Farage is NOT racist, and Lammy has apologised for accusing Farage of being a member of 'Hitler Youth'. They're really getting desperate.

Quick wash-n-brush-up.

We have to thank this man for the UK's love of Chicken Tikka Masala; his gravestone is below.

It was he, Sake Deen Mahomed, who in 1810 introduced Indian restaurants into England. These days it would be difficult to find even a tiny village that doesn't have an 'Indian'. We love them that much. 

I have no idea why, but whilst we were away in France, Mr Mahomed's gravestone at our local church has been cleaned and re-painted. Perhaps a distant relation has had the work undertaken. I hope no-one tries to modernise any of the other stones in the graveyard. I like to see the age of things.

                                      

Mahomed's gravestone has a peculiarity; it is double-sided. 

I don't think I've ever seen a gravestone before that was dedicated on both sides; this one mentions both his wife Jane, and daughter Rosanna, on the back (or is it the front?). As well as a son who died aged 12.

Sharp-eyed viewers will see that his wife Jane died aged 3 years. Unlikely methinks!

I'm waiting for some wag to spray 'sore thumb' on it.

It was bound to happen.

I have no need for Ironing Boards, but I did need an Office Chair (or so I was told).

Lady M has been berating me for years about the chair I use for all my 'office' activities. She insisted that I needed better support for my back.

I have mentioned several times about the huge amount of Ironing Boards and Office Chairs that are thrown out here in Brighton. We see them all the time.

So, when Lady M and Susie saw this 'Free to Good Home' chair outside a neighbour's house, they captured it.

It is in perfect condition, it's comfortable, and supports my back as desired. AND, it was FREE.

A bloomin' bargain!

Is my back any better? Not yet!

 

Soap.

 

Life is filled with pleasant surprises, as well as many disappointments, and they can arrive in the most unusual of forms.

For example, I like 'good soap', and I can't stand poor quality soap; what's the point in making poor quality soap anyway?

I always buy my soap in liquid form, I never buy solid bars. But occasionally one variety disappoints so much that it makes me fume. On the other hand occasionally I buy some that is so good that handwashing becomes a true pleasure.

These two above illustrate my attitude perfectly. One is rubbish, and the other is excellent. They probably cost the same, and the presentations suggest that they are both of equally good quality.

The one on the right, with the faux-classy name of 'Baylis & Harding', contains all sorts of wondrous ingredients; Jojoba, Vanilla, and Almond Oil. Sounds good doesn't it. It's RUBBISH.

The one on the left is 'La Corvette' Savon de Marseille. As it says on the bottle, it is Nature. No gimmicks, no nonsense saying 'Contains Zuxillio D47-S non-fatty* dermo-acids' etc etc. Just plain soap. It is PERFECT.

I want 'soapy' soap, I want a pleasant lather that feels nice. I also want it to clean my hands.

The Baylis & Harding contents will be thrown away, and the container re-filled with yellow good quality Fairy Liquid washing-up soap. It will then be used for hand washing either in the kitchen, or the outside loo.

p.s. I should mention that Jean Shrimpton once told me that she always used Fairy Liquid for washing her hair. What better recommendation than that! I now learn that she also happened to attend the same Secretarial College as my sister. The Langham in Park Lane.

Our Canine friends.

I recently came across this; it purports to be a man writing about the passing of his Dog.

"Every morning I would walk to the fields, and my dog would come with me. Rain, snow, or shine, he was always at my side. As the years passed and he grew slower, he still came, limping behind but never once giving up. He was more than a dog, he was my shadow, my company, and my truest friend.

The day he passed I went to the fields alone for the first time in fourteen years. The silence felt heavier, and for the first time the path seemed longer. I realised then what he had given me all those years; loyalty without question, love without words. A man can lose many things in life, but losing a shadow like that leaves a mark that never fades".

Dog owners would all probably say the same thing; they prefer Dogs to most humans, and when a Dog dies it leaves a terrible wound that never heals.

During my life I've experienced lots of deaths, and of course one feels sadness. But when a Dog (or a Cat) dies, it stays with you for ever, and can bring tears to your eyes for years afterwards.

This is a Sunday morning 'Aaaah' moment.

Other than Border Collies, I have two favourite domestic animals; Golden Retriever dogs and Tabby cats. Here are a perfect pair behaving as they always do. You can't help but love them.

Happy Sunday.

Friday 7 am.

Kimbo always joins me for breakfast early on Friday mornings. It is slowly becoming a 'tradition'.

Usually it's Bacon, Haggis, Sausage of some sort, fried Eggs, and Toast. but occasionally I'm prepared to go a bit wild and present him with something different.

I haven't yet offered him Porridge or Rice Crispies, or even Scrambled Eggs, I remain within my realm of skill; frying, toasting, etc.

 

I didn't know quite how he would react to a couple of soft boiled Eggs, with Toast and Coopers Oxford Marmalade, but he was reasonably forgiving. I think he would have preferred his Full English, but we both have to watch our waistlines.

I suppose it's laziness, but I usually just fry my eggs. I hadn't had a boiled egg for ages. They could have benefitted from an extra 30 seconds boiling, but we both really enjoyed them.

 

Tomato crop.

Before we went away in early June, I planted two Tomato plants in front of the house; one was the classic Italian cooking Tomato called Roma, and the other was a big fat Marmande style Tomato. I can't remember its name.

The Roma Tomato has been producing fruit ever since we got back, even though they're a bit small, and the Marmande has produced about 6 nice big fruits that I took inside to ripen. Builders and slugs have no respect for other people's well-loved crops, so I thought it best to rescue them.

I really do think that anyone with the tiniest little garden (like us) should grow a few Tomatoes. There is not only the huge satisfaction of growing something yourself, but the Tomatoes themselves are so much better than anything you can buy at a supermarket. Your local Garden Center will certainly sell plants in Spring.

My plants have been in the sun, they have been rained-upon, and they have breathed fresh air. I would say that they compare extremely well with my friend José's Tomatoes that he gives me through the Summer months.

Next year I intend to extend my crop to at least four plants (a bold move!). What a lovely surprise it was to return home to a small crop of Toms. A few more next year will be even better.

 

Turkeys voting for Christmas?

People hardly speak of it any more, but the Birmingham bin-men's strike continues. However, I see that the good folk of Brum are taking to the streets IN SUPPORT OF their striking dustmen.

Personally, if my city was filled with litter, rats, rotting food, maggots, and general unmentionable waste, I certainly wouldn't be out on the street supporting the very people who refuse to clear it up. But up in the North, where Trade Union support is strong, they see things differently. 

Having already been on strike since January, the 'Unite' union is suggesting that it could continue until March 2026. I can't imagine people are happy; including their supporters!

I should add here that we have a large black bin, and a couple of slightly smaller recycling bins, hidden round behind our garages. They are emptied EVERY DAY, and I always offer a cheery 'Good Morning' to the men when I see them. They in turn always stroke Billy and continue on their round.

Would I move to Birmingham. Not bloody likely!

Labour led Birmingham Council declared themselves bankrupt in 2023. Just another mismanaged council.

 

Foxy Lady?

I had finished replying to my Emails, and posting my Blog; it was 6.30 am, and was just getting light. It was time to open the curtains onto the patio behind me.

You can probably understand my surprise when I saw a young Fox, about 3 meters away, walking along our back wall. He/she didn't seem worried about my presence, and just stood looking at me while I took a few photos. For a moment it looked as it was about to jump down onto our little patio, to ask for food.

Since we returned from France, I hadn't seen any Foxes at all; then this. I do like to see Foxes around, I think Billy likes them too; he just looks at them as he would any other 'dog'. 

Good healthy wildlife is a sign that all is well with the natural world. I suspect that it's this same Fox who poos on our back door mat, but I'll forgive him/her. It's a 'calling card' in a slightly different form.

I suspect this one was a female, probably with cubs somewhere; and was out looking for food. She was really beautiful.

I must get a better camera!

Strikly

 

Here in the UK, the annual dance-fest, known as 'Strictly Come Dancing' is back on our TV screens for yet another weekly display of 'celeb' amateurs pairing with pro's on the dance floor.

As usual there is a wide and varied group of 'celebs' taking part; some much better known than others. This last weekend we were shown who will be dancing with who; all very exciting.

The show is a knock-out competition with one pair being eliminated every week; I'm not quite sure how.

So, what have we got for this year's show? They always try to have a varied selection of people, from old and useless, to young and beautiful. There's usually someone who is disabled, maybe a cross-dresser, a minor actor from a 'TV Soap', a same-sex couple, a nasty person, a nice person, and everything else in between. Whether or not they can dance or not is another question.

I did watch some of this weekend's 'introduction' show, and it was painfully obvious who would be the first to be eliminated (unless reverse psychology is employed).

Someone called Thomas Skinner (above; I have no idea who he is) stood out like a sore thumb, as the person everyone will hate. There didn't seem to be a firm favourite, but no doubt that will appear in time.

I shall watch some of the show, as it will definitely be showing on our TV (Lady M loves it), so towards Christmas I shall be shouting at the TV supporting my favourite. I'll let you know!

I believe the show has been sold to other countries, but I don't know which, or by what name. But if you have it, wherever you are; enjoy!

To murder a politician.

There are always two ways of seeing things. They are not necessarily the right or wrong ways, but simply a different approach to the same subject.

Charlie Kirk looked through the eyes of 'The Christian Right'; whatever that is. I'm sure some of his ideas were probably correct, and others more controversial. That's the way of politics. But you don't go around KILLING people simply because they think differently to you. That is the road to anarchy.

Back in May of this year, Kirk was invited to speak at The Oxford Union; arguably (once) the world's greatest debating society. He was opposed by the current President-elect, George Abaraonye (above), who looked as if he'd just come in from sweeping the streets. Not a form of dress that one associates with the OU!

After Kirk's murder, Abaraonye and several other members of The Oxford Union celebrated his murder in the most unsavoury way. Above is one of Abaraonye's own offerings on X.

Kirk's opponents are very open about this sort of thing, they have no shame in their obnoxious feelings. They openly celebrate the murder of someone who sees things differently to themselves.

When British Labour MP Jo Cox was brutally murdered back in 2016, did right-minded people poke fun and cheer? Of course not. They respected her as a politician, and spoke openly against her murder. They took a decent and educated view of her death. I don't remember hearing even ONE idiotic remark.

One has to wonder why so many 'Democrats' across the world are so happy to celebrate Kirk's killing. I think it says more about them as unpleasant people, rather than Kirk's own policies. 

It is worth noting that both Oxford and Cambridge have lost their status as the UK's top two universities. The reason given is their adherence to woke-ism, and 'social engineering'. Maybe their in-take selection process should be reviewed. The Oxford Union itself used to be a most respected institution; it has now become a scruffy outlet for radical buffoonery. Mr Abaraonye himself is studying PPE. Another great institution has bitten the dust!

Some more liberal members of The Oxford Union have initiated disciplinary proceedings against Abaraonye; I trust that they will be successful. He should not hold such a post.

And of course; had The Union been taken-over by extreme Right-wing activists, I would be saying exactly the same thing.

 

Siblings

This photo shows my father and his older brother; a right couple of junior swells!

The picture would have been taken well over 100 years ago, and was amongst a bunch of old photos I recently brought back from France.

I never really knew my Uncle. He didn't live too far away from us, but he obviously wasn't 'family orientated'. He had no children, so we had no cousins on my father's side. However, my father looked after his interests to the end. He was a bit of a Playboy.

One enigma about my Uncle, that will now never be solved, is about his 'given names'. His third Christian name was Terenzio. Why he should have been given an Italian name was never explained; my father just laughed about it. There were no heart-throb singers/actors around at the time with that name, and as far as I know we have no Italian ancestors. Although, looking at his photo above, he does have a rather 'Mediterranean' look about him!

I really know very little about my Uncle. He was sent off to Ceylon to grow Tea, then a few years later had to be repatriated having contracted para-typhoid. He later ran a business in Crawley. After his death his wife (my Aunt) moved to Hove, but we never met.

I would have liked to have known him; he was a bit of a 'character'.

Why Graffiti?

It's a question we must all have asked; What is the Point of Graffiti?

The simple answer must be 'Dumbing Down'. To make places that were smart, less smart. To make places the 'middle classes' live into places where no-one would want to live. To turn gentility into slum.

To bring everything down to their uneducated level.

It's a sad phenomenon that children now feel obliged to spray squiggles over everything. Many learn it at school where they are encouraged to paint on playground walls. 

The very first graffiti I remember seeing was in the mid-60's when I saw the word 'Zoot' written on London Underground (the Tube) walls. At the time I didn't know what it meant, but I later learned that it was fans of Zoot Money who were doing their best to advertise his name.

Zoot Money was an English R & B, Soul, and Jazz, musician. He died just a year ago.

Since those days the Tube has become a classic target for the Squiggle Merchants. They spray over everything, inside and out. How they are never caught (and made to remove it) I cannot understand. Anyone travelling on the Tube these days cannot fail to be amazed by the appalling state of the trains and stations.

When these people ARE caught, a team of Squigglers should be sent to their home and given a free hand; covering everything they, and their family, own with scrawl.

You might have guessed; I really hate graffiti.

 

Salt-n-Pepper

I don't know about you, but we always seem to have too many Salt and Pepper dispensers on the table.

We have stainless steel electric ones that are not very reliable, shop bought see-through plastic containers with good quality contents that come in their own simple mills, a combined salt-n-pepper mill that works well, and best of all a French antique glass two-bay dispenser that is used by finger-pinching the amount needed (in foreground below).

Someone once said that my preferred French glass twin containers are not very hygienic. That may be so, but the user-friendly advantages far out-way any risk to health. Anyway, we do tend to wash our hands before eating.

I have several other versions of the glass container. I have various English examples including a pair of classic Chippendale cellars, as well as more simple Victorian cut-glass pots.

I had a friend who never went anywhere without his small antique pepper grinder. It was a nice little object, trimmed with silver, that he kept in his pocket at all times. He hated the idea of poor quality pepper! I know how he felt.

I shall continue to use my French glass containers. As far as I'm concerned they are perfect; and don't tell me otherwise! 

 

 

Those wretched bottle tops

OK, a lot of EU big-wigs want to save the planet, as well as all us humans who live on it.

So they introduce an infuriating law that says that bottle tops on all plastic bottles of 3 liters or less must have the tops connected to the bottle.

This is so annoying. I haven't yet met anyone who thinks it a good idea. We all just tear the tops off and use the bottles as we always did before. 

In our household it is Lady M who is in charge of recycling, and she is very insistent that we do our bit. What the council then does with our glass, plastic, or paper, is anyone's guess. We have no control over what happens once it leaves the recycling bins.

Will it save any Dolphins, or our children from having their brains filled with micro plastics? I have no idea. What I do know is that 'Nanny State' politics really gets on people's nerves.

I know there'll be one or two Snowflake-Dungaree-Wearing-Eco-Woke-Do-Gooders who will defend the policy, but, reassuringly, everyone I've discussed the matter with thinks it's a load of bloody nonsense. And it doesn't stop people simply discarding their plastic bottles on the ground once finished.

One really has to wonder what Brexit was all about when we still follow every new EU ruling!

Having said all that, I'm actually very anti litter/waste/beach rubbish/etc. I just wish that the young people who eat their lunches in our nearby graveyard were the same; Filthy Pigs. Better to EDUCATE THEM, rather than annoying the rest of us!

Well done!

 

The small park (Rest Garden) where I go twice a day with Billy (and he goes twice a day with Lady M) has a dedicated group of volunteer gardeners who meet every Wednesday morning.

They weed, trim, plant, and sow. In fact they do everything other than mow the grass; which is undertaken by the council who have a big mower!

I came across a fellow dog-walker, a while ago, who was building (or re-constructing) a raised bed in one un-visited corner of the garden. I asked him what they planned to plant in it, and he asked me, in return, what I would plant in it.

Of course I replied VEGETABLES, and I thought no more about it.

So you can imagine my delight when, on returning to Brighton recently, I found that the raised bed (above), and another small area (below), have been planted with Pumpkins. You can just see one in the middle of the picture above.

They have beautiful foliage, plus the advantage of bearing wonderful fruits. I'm just wondering how they will decide who gets them!

The garden also has an Olive tree (I missed the fruiting period), and a Fig tree, but I think they could go further. There is a Chestnut tree but the fruits are tiny. I think they should have a decent grafted Chestnut, a Victoria Plum, and maybe a few good Apple trees. 

I would be happy to buy them if permission was given to plant them.

Why not?

Left to Rot.

Once upon a time there was a nasty landlord who reigned over a huge portfolio of local properties, many of which were taken in exchange for unpaid interest on money loaned at highly inflated prices.

He has various criminal convictions, and is still reported to be a 'Billionaire'.

It may not be known about outside of East Sussex, but this man also built himself a huge mansion (Hamilton Palace, below), that has been abandoned 'half-built'.

I'm not sure quite why he wished to build such an enormous building, but no doubt he wanted to impress, and stick two fingers up at more established society. I believe he had an argument with his architect, and the work came to a halt.

Anyway, here is the 'Palace' in its present state, with all the scaffolding still in place. Whether or not he will ever continue with the building is another question. I HAVE heard that he's now intending it to be a Mausoleum for his future 'resting place'.

I shan't mention his name (other than he's known as 'Attila the Landlord) but I'm sure you can easily find it; or already know it.

It's amazing how such people can go through life committing crimes, building-up a fortune as a result, and still be free to roam the streets.

 

READ THE LABEL!

Boursin has always been a favourite in our family, and it appears regularly on the cheese-board.

I bought this packet on Saturday, and was expecting my usual hit of Garlic and Herbs.

However, something didn't taste right, and I remarked about it to Lady M.

It was only then that she pointed-out that it was 'PLANT BASED', and not proper cream-cheese at all. I hadn't read the label and had grabbed the wrong pack. I had no idea that they even made such a product. It really wasn't pleasant; only vegans would eat this.

So, what to do? I crushed a bit more Garlic into it, and added a pinch of Salt and Pepper, and gave it a good mix. It was considerably better, but that's all.

Next time I shall read the label. Be warned!

 

My Blackberry Jam.

It was the final push of my jam-making extravaganza this Summer. Suddenly beautiful Blackberries were everywhere; just asking to be made into jam.

I'd not made Blackberry jam before; nor, I think, had I ever eaten any. I've had Blackberry jelly which I've always liked, but not actual jam, containing actual berries.

Eating the jam is an interesting experience. The Blackberries themselves are ever-present, and I can understand why this isn't made commercially. I probably find their presence acceptable because it was ME who made it.

The flavour is wonderful, but I'm not quite so sure about the little round bullets; although I'm not against them, in fact I find them rather amusing. However, I hadn't expected them to be quite so 'firm'. 

Verdict: Flavour 10/10. Edibility 6/10. It will NOT go to waste.

 

Mandy.

One doesn't wish to continuously rub salt into Labour's wounds, but they really have got themselves into deep poo, both politically and financially.

There are few politicians with as controversial a history as Mandy (Lord Mandelson); most recently being sacked as the UK's Ambassador to the USA. My own late Father-in-Law, who was at our Embassy in Washington in the mid-50's, would have been horrified at his inappropriate appointment.

Mandy's political career would best be described as 'pushy'. He actively sought-out the rich and influential, and used them to his advantage. This has eventually caused his downfall.

His long and close friendship with convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein was doomed from the beginning. Most people (other than his pal Sir Keir Starmer) knew that he had overstepped the mark; and he had to go. On Wednesday at PMQ's, Starmer was still saying what a wonderful chap he was, and had his 'total confidence'. Starmer sacked him a few hours later.

Mandy will no doubt now spend much of his time in The Lords, where members receive a daily attendance allowance of £323; over £1,500 a week. I'm sure he'll also be offered a few 'directorships', and other paid appointments. That's how things develop for such people. He won't go short of a few quid.

Mandy, better known as The Prince of Darkness', will probably be popular as an 'After Dinner Speaker', and will no doubt soon appear on the boards of several quangos and charities. I wish him luck. 

Can Starmer possibly still have the 'total confidence' in Mandy that he so earnestly claimed on Wednesday? Coming so soon after the shameful Rayner affair, one really has to wonder about Starmer's judgement of character!

It's all in the slogan!

 

Scotland used to attract visitors from the world over with their catchy slogan 'SCOTLAND, THE BEST LITTLE COUNTRY IN THE WORLD'.

However, some bright McSpark decided to find a new snappier slogan, more suited to the 21st C.

The appropriate Scottish government department allotted £125,000 (some say more) to find something really punchy; and the search was on!

New slogans came from all quarters, but one stood out from all the others; and here is the winner!

'WELCOME TO SCOTLAND' Which came from Scotland's renowned 'Leith Agency'. It now greets arrivals in airports, etc, throughout Scotland.

Good isn't it. Give that man a McKnighthood.

 

Damn and Blast!

Observant visitors to this page will know that I am an avid wild-Mushroom hunter. The woods around our home in France offer plenty of Girolles, Cepes, Hedgehog Mushrooms, and Trumpets of Death. And our favourite Parasol Mushrooms pop-up almost anywhere. We always stick to these five well-known varieties. 

We had really been hoping for a few Cepes before we left last weekend, but it wasn't to be. It had rained as needed, and it had been hot. Sadly, for some reason, they didn't grow.

However, I now see from local reports that there are beautiful Cepes everywhere (above, 2 days ago), and the local marketplace is busy every afternoon, with merchants buying all they can get their hands on.

I cannot tell you how annoyed this makes me. One of the greatest pleasures of living where we do is the availability of a good variety of wild mushrooms; especially the Cepes.

We did have a few way back in June, with three days of Cepe omelets,  but I'd really been hoping for more.

Such is life.

 

Veggie Monday, Tuesday, Wednes......

 

We are eating much less meat than we used to. This is not for any ethical reason, or even financial reasons, it just happens to suit our way of life. It's no longer just Veggie Wednesdays.

The latest recipe that has come my way involves two of my favourite vegetables, cooked in a favourite way, in a favourite pan.

I apologise for the borrowed photo, I forgot to take my own; but it was very similar looking.

I love Pak Choi, and I love Mushrooms (I used Chestnut Mushrooms). A few minutes in a Wok with some chopped Spring Onions and some Garlic, combined with some Hoi Sin sauce, and you have a really nice simple meal. This was the first time I'd cooked it, and it was really good. Not something you'd give to guests maybe, but as a mid-week easy meal it was perfect. Lady M thought it might have been better with some Rice. Maybe she was right.

We did have a slice of Chocolate cake afterwards.

Back to Brighton life!

 

You would be forgiven for thinking that all car-drivers in Brighton are permanently DRUNK.

In fact their wavering around in the road is due to the POTHOLES everywhere. One needs to 'meander' in order to avoid what happened to ME two years ago, when I broke a spring by driving into a particularly deep one. It cost me £250 to repair.

I have just returned from a major 're-stocking' shopping trip, and I was pleased to see that the big Sainsbury's I go to have changed their shopping-trollies. We no longer have to put a £1 coin (or a token) into a slot; they are now slot-less. Whoopie!

Church News. It seems that during the 3 months I've been away, no new Vicar has been found for our nearby church. Maybe there is a shortage of Vicars (no surprise there), or maybe no-one wants to move down to Brighton; it could be a daunting change of life-style. It's the same in France; our lovely old village church can find no priest, they have even had to bring-in Polish ones for the very occasional service.

No sight as yet of the fragrant 'Tax Avoider' Ms Rayner.  I expect she's laying low and trying to let her disgrace die-down a bit. But, no doubt she'll be back; snapping at ankles.

In the park (rest garden) where I take Billy for his walks, there has been a new 'raised bed' built in one discreet corner. I asked the chap who built it what he was going to grow in it. He asked me what I would grow in it. I replied "Vegetables". I notice that it is now filled with pumpkins!!! I hope I'll be offered one.

And finally, I'm pleased to announce that I've just spotted the above advert in my local area's free monthly mag'. Sound healing to 'balance my energy system, and allow sympathetic vibrations to occur in my every cell' sounds super-dooper. And at only £45 an hour for a 'one to one session', it has to be the bargain of the year.

Do you think it'll cure my bad back?

Nabbed

 

I return to Blighty only to discover that poor Angela Rayner has been getting a lot of stick.

She's a classic 'rags to riches' gal, and good for her for that! But that doesn't excuse her hypocrisy.

She's, frankly, much more suited to being a Trade Union 'rabble rouser' than a senior politician. Such people can shout "Tory Scum" with impunity, but not as the deputy leader of a major political party.

Nor can they fiddle their tax payments on a house purchase (her £800,000 Brighton seaside 'second home' flat), especially when they are Secretary of State for Housing.

Of course, according to the fragrant Angela, she did no wrong; it was everyone else's fault. She took advice from the wrong adviser (don't we all). 

We would all use HER tax adviser, as long as we didn't get caught. Unfortunately all senior politicians are under permanent scrutiny, and she WAS caught! A small question of dodging a £40,000 tax bill was bound to surface.

She knew she couldn't escape the whole murky scandal, so she's finally thrown in the towel.  

So, ta ta Ducks; it were grand knowing yer. 

In many ways Angela was quite fun. She was Starmer's trusty Pit Bull, sitting by his side in loose cannon pose. She was also the darling of the 'lower classes' who saw her as their mouthpiece against all those who achieve and succeed. Along with Rachel Reeves and David Lammy, she was one of that trio of hard-line Socialist front benchers who hate the rich but are desperate to join them.

The delightful David Lammy has now replaced her as Deputy Prime Minister. Gawd 'elp us; it gets worse and worse!

Home!

 

We made it; but not without incident.

When you drive from south to north, or even north to south, through France, you realise what a stunningly beautiful country it is. Beautiful roads, beautiful countryside, and NO POTHOLES. Also, the weather was perfect.

We had a slight incident in Orléans when some idiot Tram Driver almost sliced Debi in half; it seemed (wrongly) to think it had 'right of way'. And another classic incident in Rouen where I took a slightly wrong turning and had to reverse into oncoming traffic (don't ask). If I hadn't I would have ended-up in Le Mans.

Otherwise our Hotel (above) was as dull as ever (it's changed it's name but not it's dreadful décor), we've had to endure this awful 'picture' ever since we started staying there. We met some charming people en route, and the traditional Salami and Coleslaw sandwiches I made were even more delicious than usual.

I'm sorry to say that the very first thing we noticed after leaving The Ferry were the amount of Potholes everywhere. Someone really has to address this!!!

When we drove into Brighton at about 11 pm, it was buzzing with young revelers, all out enjoying themselves. It was reassuring to know that even with a recent newcomer killjoy in our midst, it doesn't seem to have reduced the ardour of the local youf. The streets were awash! 

Mostly, we felt so sorry for Billy. He's never complained about the trip, but I'm sure he doesn't like it. What I do know is that he's very pleased that it's over.

Thank you for your kind comments of Friday/Saturday, I shall now continue to respond to any future comments as usual.

September

So, here we are; it's September already, and that means just one thing for us; we leave our little home (above) and return to Blighty.

It's been a great Summer. Plenty of hot weather, plenty of swimming, and plenty of friends, family, and good food. I would say that it's been one of our best Summers for a long while.

Now we head back to Brighton (below), and to a very different way of life. Inner city living, with lots of traffic, houses, and (friendly) people; our own little bijou home is actually very peaceful.

 

Billy will meet all his doggy friends again, and be stroked by strangers wherever he goes. I will meet-up with good friends as if we'd never been apart. And Lady M will return to greet her Friday Night Gin Club pals; I know she's missed them.

I'm looking forward to seeing my Tomatoes, the Figs halfway down the street, and the Apples right in front of our door. I'm also looking forward to seeing our neighbours again; and hopefully meet 'The Bishop'.

The pool is now covered, all the pre-Winter pruning completed, and everything put away until next Spring. I've given the lawn one last mowing, from now on it'll be the task of our gardener to look after everything. I hope I haven't missed anything. Kimbo will be visiting so I'm sure he'll tell me if I've left anything out.

So, we have our memories, quite a few photos, and several empty 'magnum' Champagne bottles. It was really nice having Boo Boo with us again; what a bright boy! Even my old friend, the painter Simon Fletcher, came for a visit with his lovely wife Julie, it's been a great year for seeing old friends.

On a practical note, this was the year when we finally got rid of France's most incompetent internet supplier (Orange), and when I returned their router, etc, I included a wee note telling them what I thought of them! They should be ashamed of themselves even charging me for it! We are now signed up with Elon Musk; his Starlink service is 100%.

And some good news just in; my grandson Suave Harve will be starting at Oxford in a couple of weeks. Well done H.

We'll be taking to the road any minute, so I'll spare you from my ramblings for a couple of days. As usual we shall stop half way up in Orléans, then be back home late the next evening (midnight?). Debi the Compact Royce has been cleaned, oiled, and watered. She is full of petrol, and eager to set-off.

So, I wish myself bon route. I shall see you on the other side. 

I shall have to start speaking English again. Toodle-pip.

Please excuse me if I don't reply to any comments; I shall be driving!

No sooner ordered, than delivered!

I occasionally buy from Amazon. Some things simply aren't available nearby, and it's very convenient.

I wanted some plain, wipe-able, place-mats, for our dining table here in France; so I looked online.

I found what I wanted for around 11 Euros, and was about to click on 'Buy Now' when I saw what you see below.

Are they bloody kidding??? They are VERY specific; delivery would not be before Friday 13th of March 2026. It WOULD be a Friday 13th wouldn't it. Are they comedians?

I have never seen that before. Usually things arrive within a few days; at the most a week. But to actually advertise that it could be dispatched within 6 to 7 months is frankly OUTRAGEOUS. These are just ordinary place mats for goodness sake.

Normally I wouldn't bother reading the 'small print'. My search for place mats continues!

 

Autumn

We always leave France in early September, just as the Chestnuts are thinking of falling.

I used to look forward to going to the woods mushrooming, and returning with a pocket-full of Chestnuts. They are very beautiful tactile things, as well as being delicious. The locally grown ones are particularly good.

My preferred way of eating them is to cut a cross into the pointed end, then boil for about 20 minutes. You can probably see in the photo below that they begin to open up at the cross, making it easier to get at the cooked nut inside. A little salt, and you have a delicious snack to accompany your evening glass of wine. 

Some of the things I miss most about not being here through Autumn are the Chestnuts, certain wild mushrooms, and beautiful quiet misty mornings. Perhaps we should come a month later and stay until early October. 

September is a beautiful month in Southern France; we shall miss it. It's already beginning to feel autumnal. A real mixed-bag of weather.

Old Mo.

I just came across this old photo (again). It shows Lady M, our two kittens 'King and Barnes' (named after a Sussex brewery), our dog Hamlet, and 'Old Mo', a friend from England. It was taken at our original farmhouse in about 1973.

Old Mo was a Fruit Tree Scientist. Before retirement, he had been the senior Scientist at the East Malling Research Station in Kent.

Mo lived next door to my people in West Chiltingon Sussex, and we became great friends. He was a fascinating man, but a tad eccentric. He was delighted to hear that we were moving to S W France, and instantly asked if he could visit. Of course we said 'Yes'.

I can't remember exactly how he reached us, but I do remember that it involved a train, bus, and hitchhiking. He was that sort of man; nothing was too much for him. We had no phone, so making contact with him was impossible.

I remember that he was also very interested in the local Walnut trees. Trees were his life. Whilst with us he taught me so much; I could have listened to him all day long.

He always wore a suit with shirt and tie, whether he was relaxing at home, sunbathing in his garden, or working at his beautiful espalier orchard called 'Kings and Princes'. His orchard was about a mile away from his home on some rented land, and consisted of several long rows of immaculately pruned espalier Apple and Pear trees. He had also dug a small underground cellar where he kept bottles of Cider and a few glasses. I never did ask what he did with all the fruit!

Dear Old Mo is long gone, but just seeing his photo again brought back wonderful memories. He was always smiling. Looking at the photo again reminds me of what a lovely man he was.

The original photo is slowly fading away, but on advice from Deejohn I have tinkered with it. It's much better now..

How time flies.

It only seems like yesterday when we were opening-up the pool, and looking forward to a Summer of swimming.

The weather forecast for the next week isn't good; Autumn has arrived. We're now having intermittent rain, with very little sunshine; even though the temperature is still around 20 C.

So, we've decided to close down the pool earlier than usual, in fact we've scheduled it for the next dry day (probably tomorrow). It's not a big job closing down, just a matter of covering the pool itself so that no creatures, leaves, or detritus can get in, and making sure that everything is turned off, and clean. It's no more than a morning's work.

I hate closing the pool; it's like a drawn-out way of saying a sad goodbye to a well loved friend. We won't be swimming for 9 months, but it seems like for ever. 

And look; we have this extremely spikey Yukka (I think), which is having its first ever flower. 

I've cut back all the fig branches by the pool gate, the Wisterias are all pruned, and one of the bigger Oleanders has been cut back to almost ground level. I'm told it will flower better next year.

Everything has been put away, locked away, and a note written of what I've done. That makes things simpler for next year when we open up again.

We've had our final swim (22 C), and we've stored away our trunks and bikinis. 

Swimming is all over for another year!

Just an idea.

Those who cross the channel in small inflatable boats, must have such a love for their new intended home/country, that they should be allowed to demonstrate that patriotism by joining-in wherever possible.

One way they could demonstrate their willingness to become good 'British' citizens would be by joining her Armed Forces. I would recommend that they be allowed (ahem) to do a couple of years 'National Service', before settling down to whatever work their skills allow. Some skills would of course be learned over their two years. They would learn to speak English, save a certain amount of money, and be prepared for life in 'civilised' Britain.

Their service would need to be 'obligatory', so that they don't feel that there is any sort of pressure in a selection process. The old or infirm might be excused, or reserved for lighter duties.

This would give new immigrants a feeling of being welcomed into the fold of Britishness, and make them feel like an part important part of the community. Some could even remain in the army to form a new British 'Foreign Legion'.

I rest my case M'lud.

Goodbye Tomatoes.

It'll be a long time before we eat Tomatoes like these again.

My good friend and neighbour, José, has come up trumps again with his wonderful Tomatoes. As usual he has given me a free hand, helping myself to a few every so often. They are simply delicious. 

OK, they're a bit marked and split, but the flavour is so good. There really is nothing to compare with a good 'Marmande' type Tomato, grown outdoors in the sunshine.

In fact José grows several different varieties; I would guess about 6 different types. The two above, on the plate are Marmande, and the one by their side is (I think) a Coeur de Boeuf. He and his daughter make plenty of preserves, then the rest are either eaten, given away, or left to rot. He always grows far too many. 

Preserving my crops was always one of my greatest pleasures; other than actually growing them. To have various cupboards filled with bottles of fruit and veg was so satisfying (above). All was the very best quality, and all was delicious. N.B. When bottling, one only ever uses perfect fruits or vegs.

So, a big thank you to José and his daughter Laurence; without you our summers would be far less gastronomic! I'm just sorry that we won't be here to fill our pockets with Chestnuts. They should start falling quite soon.