A slight moan!

 

I don't consider myself to be a particularly generous person, but, like a lot of people, I do put-aside a respectable 'four-figure-sum' for my annual charity donations.

My regular charity is Medecins sans Frontieres who do wonderful work wherever they are in the world. I have supported them for many years. They regularly receive a full half of my donations, and are always extremely grateful.

It is just after 8 am as I write, and I have been listening to the Angelus ringing from our village church (above) just 2 Kms East of my house. It has rung morning and evening every day since I first settled in my village back in 1972. The sound of that bell has been an essential part of my life for all that time. From where I'm sitting, I can see the church spire poking up on the horizon.

However, a few years ago, it was noticed that the wooden structure holding the massive bell was in need of replacement, and a fund was launched.

I may not be a church-goer, but I do love old buildings; especially medieval churches. So I responded to the appeal, and donated the other half of my donation fund to the restoration project. I was happy with both of my donations, and really thought no more about it.

However, and I don't wish to sound too churlish, but after quite a long period I realised that I'd heard nothing from anyone confirming my gift, and I suddenly felt rudely ignored. I am not a wealthy person, and for me, my donation was 'substantial'. I hadn't expected any gratitude, but at the same time, not to have any acknowledgement at all felt ungrateful. Neither the Mayor's office nor the Church itself had bothered to say a simple 'Thanks'.

It still irks me, and if they ask for more money, the answer will be a very polite NO!

Curiouser and Curiouser.

Great Britain is a strange place to live these days. One might be forgiven for thinking that certain areas of the country have suddenly reverted to the 8th Century Middle East.

Not only do so many newcomers DRESS that way, but they also BEHAVE that way too. In fact, so much so, that the UK GOVERNMENT has now actually issued them with guidelines about how to behave themselves in a modern civilised Western Country. 

Many of these people are so set in their primitive religious ways that they have to be told that rape, wife beating, paedophilia, under age marriage, etc, are all unacceptable in a modern society, and could result in a prison sentence. It seems that many are unaware that this is so, and see it as 'normal behaviour'!

The Koran tells its followers that a woman's worth is just a THIRD of a man's; well, they really must stop believing all this nonsense when they come to live in a more civilised country. It is in the mosques where all this rubbish is taught, and it is the duty of their Imams to correct it.

The 9 page booklet covers respect in public, gender equality, sexual behaviour, and many other subjects that all 'westerners' take for granted. WE don't need the government to tell us, and nor should they!

However, there are obviously droves of illegal immigrants who don't understand about civilised behaviour, and this booklet is for them (if, indeed, they can read).

 

Ginge and the Whinge.

 

Yesterday's news that The Dreadful Duo are to return to the UK took us all by surprise. Where they will park their caravan is anyone's guess. The Cotswold's maybe?

Their main problem is knowing that all the nasty things that they've both written and said, can never be erased or retracted. Their unpopularity can only increase by being back.

I would like to ask King Charles to remove the word 'SUSSEX' from their titles. I really cannot stand having my own county associated with them in any way whatsoever.

I would also suggest to King Charles that he demands a public apology from them both, before they are allowed back.

It is difficult to imagine what went on inside the Whinger's mind before she went off on her tantrum. One minute everyone loved her, the next she was saying how she hated everyone. All very strange. If she now thinks she can return with some massive charm offensive; she's living in a bloody dream world.

The Ginge has huge debts following his silly court cases. I believe he will hear TODAY how much he'll have to pay. He has no 'state provided security', and he has a wife who's made him look like a bloody fool. I think it would have been better for him to stay where he was; in The Jam Factory.

Pruning.

I think we have 6 Fig trees; two of which are in positions where they are not allowed to bear fruit.

Fig trees usually have huge amounts of fruit which, if not picked, drop to the ground making a mess. If they're away from the house in the garden it doesn't matter, but we have two trees where fruit dropping onto the ground would be very annoying. I'm talking of around the pool.

So, each year they are pruned back to nothing, assuring that next year's growth will not present a fruit problem.

Fig trees issue a nasty white sap when cut, which is irritable to human skin. So one has to take care.

Here I am, half way through pruning the tree by the pool entrance. It's work I do early in the morning, and I take my time. In fact I will take about 3 days; that's how things are aged 80! My relationship with ladders has recently taken a downward spiral.

And this (below) is what it looks like when it's all finished. 

Next year it'll be back to it's lovely 'lollipop' shape again, but will NOT bear fruit, and I'll have to prune it back all over again.

Now all that remains is to prune the Wisteria, a Grape vine, and one Hibiscus. Then all will be Winter-Ready.

 

Refugees Welcome

When reality hits the Woke-dungaree-wearing-Lovies, who welcome every Middle Eastern economic migrant, or criminal, into the country, all of a sudden their attitudes change!

We've all seen the interviews at the Lovie welcoming rallies. 

"Can I put your name down to give shelter to a refugee Sir/Madam?". 

"Errrm, well I would, but unfortunately we don't have a spare room!" (lying bast*ds).

Of course they don't have any room. Who knows who these people are. They dump all their papers in the sea, so no-one can check on them, and some (30 year olds) even pretend to be children.

So what do these people really want when their rubber boats arrive in the UK? 

Well, of course, they all want luxury accommodation; a nice hotel, or even a £300,000 new build. They want 3 free meals a day, and spending money. They want new clothes, and a mobile phone. And they want all the facilities that the rest of us work, and pay through the nose for. In fact they want freebies to the extent of about £50-60,000 each per annum. All this is what they're promised by the traffickers.

And guess what? YES; WE GIVE IT TO THEM !!!

N.B. Breaking news tells us that a SOMALI migrant, staying at the luxury Stanwell 'Migrant' Hotel near Heathrow, has been arrested for stabbing a fellow migrant. 

They're even trying to kill each other now! Overcrowding maybe?

 

Pool life.

 

Anyone who has a pool, and looks after the maintenance themselves, knows that it's not all Bathing Beauties, Bikinis, and inflatable Flamingoes. There's a lot of work, and a lot that can go wrong.

Looking after your pool is an essential daily task. First thing in the morning everything has to be cleaned. All leaves on the 'beach' must be swept-away, any creatures, or illegal immigrants must be taken out of the pool itself, and the skimmers emptied of all the overnight amassed detritus. Chemicals have to be added if necessary.

The level of the water is very important. Too little and the skimmers will begin to suck in air, and the whole pumping system will be circulating air rather than water. Even in times when we have a 'Hose-pipe ban', we have to ensure that the level is correct. If they want to take me to court.... let them!

Our pool runs on Chlorine (some run on Salt), and the level of Chlorine needs to be checked regularly. I'm afraid I don't bother with this. I put in the 'Multifunction Tabs' when needed, and cross my fingers. So far this year the water has remained perfectly clear.

Then there is all the mechanical side of things (above); the things that are hidden away in the Pump House. The pump itself has a rudimentary filter that needs to be emptied from time to time, and the whole system has a large round filter that has to be washed-out (backwashed) regularly. Ours contains ground Glass rather than Sand. We had a slight problem with the pump this year, and the dangling white tubular bit is new. All now works well.

As far as cleaning the inside of the pool is concerned, we now have a fabulous 'robot'. He sees to it that all is perfect, and I clean his internal filter when he's finished.

If we get everything right, spending 15-30 minutes a day making sure that all is as it should be, then the pool will function correctly, and people will think that it all happens by itself (by magic). If the water turns GREEN, which ours has in the past, it can take a week or more to get it back; and of course I would be to blame.

It's not 'Rocket Science' but one has to be aware of how everything functions. After that it's simply a matter of aesthetics, weather, and FUN.

An un-nerving (for me) story!

 

I was just reading that the 60's Gangland Boss, Eddie Richardson, who masterminded 'The Torture Gang', has recently died. Richardson's gang and The Kray twins were underworld rivals. He always referred to Ronnie and Reggie Kray as a bunch of amateurs. You can just imagine what sort of person Richardson was.

His death reminded me of a personal experience.

Back in 1966 I was living and working in London. I was in the Antiques business, and (at the time) I was living in Lillie Road, Fulham. I had a small apartment on the ground floor of a pleasant terraced house, my rooms were just inside the entrance door, on the right.

One night, whilst fast-asleep, the door to the apartment was thrown open, and I was torn from my slumber by two burley Policemen, and a viciously barking dog. I was petrified!

They dragged me over to beneath a lightbulb, and compared my face to that of a photo that another Policeman was holding.

"No, that's not 'im" said the man, and they allowed me to sit down.

"Not who?" I asked.

"We'd been given information that Frank Mitchell (above) had been seen entering this property" he explained. 

The name of Frank 'the mad axeman' Mitchell was all over the news at that time. He was an extremely dangerous criminal, and had recently been 'sprung' from Dartmoor Prison by the Kray twins. They had found a flat for him, but he'd disappeared. The whole of The Metropolitan Police Force were out looking for him, and thanks to some idiot, I had inadvertently become a part of their search.

OK, I understood that they needed to do their job, but I looked nothing like Mitchell. They 'almost' apologised, gathered together all the other Police throughout the house, and departed to harass someone else.

I believe that the Krays eventually found Mitchell themselves and had him killed. It was rumoured at the time that his body was dumped in the Channel.

I, on the other hand, somehow managed to survive!