Icon

I recently found this icon whilst walking with Billy. It was tucked into a flower bed, in the churchyard. It's about 5 by 8 inches.

I took it home and, as it was very dirty, I left it on a table in the garden for a week or so. The paint had started to crack and lift away from the wooden board on which it's painted. You can see one of the worst cracks bottom right. 

Lady M said she thought it belonged to the church, as there is a similar one inside. She checked later, and confirmed that they were indeed very similar.

I wrote to the Churchwarden, and sent a photo. He confirmed that it was from the church. Someone had half-inched it, then dumped it. He was 'mystified'.

I have no idea how long it had been outdoors in the flower bed, and I felt a bit sad that it was in such bad condition; so I decided to fix it as best I could.

I put a sheet of baking parchment over the top, and gently ironed it. It did flatten quite a lot, but still isn't perfect. Anyway I shall give it back to the church this morning. They have a service at 8 am, so I'll pop in a little bit earlier.

It's a hand-painted copy of an earlier icon; so probably not of great value. Even so, I'm sure they'll be happy to have it back.

As for me; it's my good deed of the day!

 

Dontcha love Russell Brand.

I've always admired the way that criminals suddenly say they have become 'Christians', just as the prison parole board looks into their release.

And here is the fragrant Russell Brand doing much the same (with difficulty), after the preliminary hearing for his six cases of rape and sexual assault.

He wanted to quote something from his new bible for Piers Morgan, but he couldn't find it. He could at least have marked the page. What a plonker.

Brand is a nasty piece of work, and deserves all that's coming to him; even with that big cross around his neck, and that shiny new bible in his hand.

 

Fission chips

When foreigners are asked about 'English Food' (if they like it) they often say that they like our Fish-n-Chips. They never seem to know much about anything else.

In fact, after the French Revolution, when most of the Aristocrats had their heads chopped off, France's most sought-after chefs left their great Chateaux and headed north to England, and, as a result, our National Cuisine slowly became very similar to that of France (but don't mention that to a Frenchman).

However, one thing that has remained pretty constant over the years is that very simple dish of deep-fried, battered, fish, and it's accompanying potato chips. As good a meal as you could find anywhere in the world.

I do like pukka Fish-n-Chips, but the last time I had any from a fish shop/restaurant must be about 15 years ago, when I had some on The Palace Pier here in Brighton.

I do stick to the tradition of eating Fish on Fridays, but it's usually either Fish Fingers (which I love), or Salmon Steaks (which I love even more). Both are usually served with Chips; or occasionally with plain steamed Cavolo Nero.

When we eat Salmon, we both usually say how much we prefer it to any other fish, or even to meat. Salmon is the Food of the Gods. (We don't usually have the Mayo décor)

We should all eat more fish, especially wild SALMON.

Looking forward

We used to arrive at our home with the grass about a metre high; it was a nightmare. It took days with a small mower to tackle it.

These days, we have found someone who is prepared to look after things for us, and we now arrive to nicely mowed lawn and paddock, even Haddock's is given a trim. The battery on 'Rory', our mower, isn't too reliable, but otherwise our man has no problems. Below is a photo he recently sent; all looks OK. 

I'm looking forward to being in the countryside again. As much as I love Brighton, I'm a country boy at heart, and I like nothing more than the peace and quiet of open fields and woodland.

My fingers are crossed that there will also be some mushrooms about, but it's never guaranteed. I shall be keeping an eye on the weather forecast over the next few weeks. Rain means mushrooms.

I have just one project for this year, and that is to put a handrail on the stairs. Two years ago, I came a cropper on the lower steps, which wasn't pleasant. Both of us now need something to hold onto.

Otherwise I shall be sowing some Bok Choi and a few Salads, and hopefully planting a few Peach trees. I also hope to make plenty of JAM. Our supplies ran out too early last year, and we probably need double the amount. We make Plum, Apricot, and Greengage jams. I shall NOT be making more Blackberry jam.... it wasn't good.

The BBQ will be dusted down, Oysters will be bought by the 'box-full', Snails will be eaten, Restaurants will be visited (They're getting better again), and favourite Charcuterie will be devoured in abundance.

We are also thinking of buying a big green 'Garden Bell-Tent' to accommodate excess Gen-Z'ers. Not too sure about it yet! 

 

And so, it continues.

The Prince of Darkness is rarely out of our News. The Mandy farce has been going on far too long; all we're waiting for now, is for J Corbyn Esq himself to criticise Starmer; everyone else has !

However, here is Corbyn's ex-girlfriend Dianne Abbott (below) putting her pennyworth into the Mandy affair.

Heaven forbid that anyone should think that I am a supporter of the fragrant Ms Abbott, but amazingly she has (at last) got something right. 

I think it's reasonable to say that Mandy has chased after the friendship of the rich and influential throughout his political life. His two sackings were caused by his dealings with dodgy millionaires, and his friendship with Epstein would never had existed had JE been 'poor'. 

Mandy was a member of the Young Communist League, and his dealings with both Russia and China are suspect, and have been widely criticised.

There's not much more to be said about Mandy's ridiculous appointment to Washington, but to have heard Abbott criticising Starmer's judgement is the very amusing 'Cherry on the Cake'.

Some Migrants are certainly more welcome than others.

 

Not all illegal immigrants are criminals, but sadly many are; and with no real vetting system some real badduns slip through whatever safety net there is.

The BBC News was awash last Thursday with the story of an appalling rape here on Brighton beach, carried out by these three young illegal immigrants (below), one of whom was a runaway murderer from Egypt; he had also been convicted of criminal damage whilst in England. The other two were simply 'every day criminals' from Egypt and Iran.

The details of the rape were harrowing. They filmed her, they spat on her, and they kicked her. The poor young woman will never be the same again; she has been left in fear of ever leaving her house. I notice in the image above, that a lot of the smiling 'Woke' marchers are women, and one really has to wonder what they felt about this case; and of their own open-arms welcome to such people into Britain ?

I don't know the names of these three young men, and, frankly, I wouldn't print them even if I did. All three were housed at the beautiful and historic 3 star Cisswood House Hotel near Horsham (below); to the North of Brighton. Very nice too !

They will now serve long prison sentences, and will be deported at a later date (unless they claim that it would be against their 'human rights'). Their own countries will then decide what to do with them. I think we all know what will happen to the runaway Egyptian 'Murderer'.

Nigel Farage has suggested that we stop benefits to all these people, stop giving them nice hotel rooms, stop giving them mobile phones, and charge them for any use of our NHS. Someone I was talking to recently also suggested that they should receive the same punishment here for any crime, as they would back in their own country. Hmmmm; somehow I don't see that happening!

I hope all three are treated with the respect they deserve whilst in prison.

Meanwhile, it might be a good idea to stop importing such people into Britain.

Mint Sauce.

When I was a wee sprog, like most small children, I was given simple jobs to do.

On Sundays, if Father was going walking/climbing, I was given the job of putting 'dubbin' on his boots. I loved it.

Sunday lunchtimes also involved small jobs. If we were eating Beef, it was my job to mix the Mustard. If we were eating Lamb, it was me who made the Mint Sauce.

The Mint grew in a large patch at the bottom of the garden. I would go down, pick some Nettles or Bracken, and return triumphantly to present it to my Mother, before revealing the actual Mint from behind my back. I continued doing this hilariously funny game for years.

I loved chopping the mint, using a large rounded knife to perform a rocking movement over the Mint to chop it as finely as possible. Then it was just a matter of adding the Vinegar and some Sugar, before filling our glass Mint Sauce Boat.

We ate Roast Lamb last night, hence the sauce. Delicious.