West Chiltington.

This quintessentially English thatched house was my parents' last Sussex home before moving up to Shropshire in the mid to late 1970's (I think).

I loved this house. It was situated in the beautiful village of West Chiltington in West Sussex, and had all that one could need; a veg' patch, an orchard, two small ponds, and some woodland. It looks much older, but in fact it was built in the 1920's (?). It was part of a development of several similar houses, known as 'Wells Cottages', situated well spaced apart in woodland.

Over the past 50 years the lay-out has changed a bit. The drive looks wider, the garden better organised, and one of the ponds is missing. The bit sticking out on the left used to be a garage, but I see they have done what I wanted to do, and they've changed it into another room. 

I must admit to having been a bit disappointed when they decided to move to Shropshire. The house they bought was pleasant, but Shropshire just ain't Sussex. Being a Surrey/Sussex boy, I would say that wouldn't I.

On a country house hunting programme I occasionally watch, people often wince at the thought of a thatched house. Goodness knows why. Personally I find them very attractive.

The lawn in front of the house was 99% moss, and was lovely to walk over bare-footed.

When my people bought the house, the previous owner had just died, and his son had been given the task of emptying, and selling it. Frankly he was not the sort of person I'd want as a son; he piled everything burnable on the front lawn, and lit it. We found antique hinges amongst the ashes. Goodness knows what he'd burned. Later I found a book of National Savings certificates in the garage. They had a nominal value of about £200, but were probably worth about £2,000. I sent them to him, but received no reply. What a charming individual.

I'm thinking a lot about Christmases past at the moment. This was a great Christmas house.

I'm sorry they sold up. Father was a Sussex man; Mother was from Shropshire. Mother won!

p.s. Their gardener (for a while) was Norman Wisdom's son. NW lived in the village.

 

Parmesan Biscuits.

I was just attaching Billy's lead for his afternoon walk, when I looked around to see Lady M with her face, hair, and tiara, covered with a light dusting of flour; she was baking.

When I returned some time later, the house was filled with a delicious, and familiar, aroma. She had made some of 'Julie New's fabulous Parmesan Biscuits.

Julie is a friend who first gave us the recipe about 20 years ago, and we've been using it ever since. I'm using an old photo that I have used before, because I can't do better.

The biscuits are made by combining 100 gms flour, 100 gms butter, and 100 gms of freshly grated parmesan (don't use ready grated), one egg yolk, a quarter teaspoon of chili powder, and half a teaspoon of cumin seeds. Wizz into a ball, and refrigerate for a while.

Roll out to about 1 cm thickness, and cut into rounds, Bake for about 10 mins at 200 C. Watch very carefully that they don't burn. 

I cannot think of a better savoury biscuit to accompany a glass of red wine in the evening. 

Just delicious. Thank you Julie.

 

The wheels of change turn mighty slow.

We have just been sent a photo that proves that behind our house in France it appears that not much has changed since the beginning of June. There is still a temporary electrical meter box on the ground, and cables still lie on the surface; just as they did FIVE YEARS AGO.

However, over Summer, I did manage to arrange that the neighbour whose house it feeds, now has buried cables up to his front door, and a new meter installed on his own land, whether they are being used or not is another question; we simply don't know. Other than that I'm really not sure why all the cables are still all over the ground, or even if they're still 'live'. It doesn't make any sense.

I really went out of my way to help the man get his permanent electricity connection; I made phone calls, spoke to the Mayor, and welcomed about five different lots of EDF workers who came to fiddle with things. I didn't mind giving a helping hand, as the current situation remained extremely dangerous, and I really didn't want to see a repeat of when a local man was very nearly killed by mowing over the hidden grass-covered wires. 

Regardless of all this, the situation remains much the same, and I'd put a tenner on it being no different in 12 months time!!!

In between time, our own telephone/internet wires were still left trailing on the ground. I have attached them to the brand new post, just so I don't mow over them. I believe that a new Fibre Optic connection will arrive this winter, so maybe those wheels are beginning to turn. I hope I get to see, and use, it. Our current internet connection in France is appalling.

 

More Stumbling from Starmer & Co

 

Spot the anomaly from 2019 (above) to now! I don't think any of those women would be posing in front of the red banners after today's announcements!

Our new Socialist government never misses an opportunity to tell us that The Tories left a 'Black Hole' in the economy of £20 Billion; a figure much contended by several official government bodies.

If they really do wish to make-up the missing Billions, there is no easier way than by stopping the money we give away annually to foreign countries. We give away over £15 Billion, often with no noticeable benefit to either them or us. A yearly percentage has been established, (0.5% of gross national income) and governments stick to it doggedly. I think it's time to say 'NO', until our own books are in order.

As someone recently said, "If we can afford to give away so much money, we must all be paying too much tax".

The Socialists don't seem to be managing the economy too well. Inflation is up, businesses are closing, farmers are furious, OAP's aren't happy, all those lady pensioners born in the 1950's (WASPI's) are up in arms. I haven't seen any unemployment figures recently, but they are bound to be up as well.

The usual Socialist suspects are now reneging on their promise to these female pensioners. Having given 100% support to the WASPI women whilst in opposition, they have now turned around to tell them they'll get NOTHING; and to stop moaning! 

We are no longer surprised by such U Turns, they are becoming the norm. 

The build-up to Christmas Lunch.

 

All I really need to buy now, are the Sprouts.

I suppose like most households, on the big day we have a glass of fizz and some small things to eat before we tackle the main event. We spoil ourselves with a bottle of good Champagne (Canard Duchenne) with some Foie Gras, Caviar, and Smoked Salmon, on Ritz crackers. Then we relax whilst opening a few unwanted presents, before the roasted beast comes out of the oven to rest, and the Sprouts are put on. By this time all the extras (stuffing, pigs, etc) are already done!

We've done the exact same thing on Christmas Day since I was born.

One of my most memorable Christmases was when I was about 6. My mother had bought, or maybe had made herself, a HUGE cracker that hung from the ceiling. Inside were sweets, toys, and fruits. It was magical, I can still remember being allowed into the drawing room, and seeing it hanging there. It must have been about 4 feet long, although at the time it seemed like 10.

For several years we used to go to our Welsh hilltop cottage for Christmas. My mother had family up there and it was a wonderful time to all get together. The cottage was on the very top of a hill overlooking Wales, by the side of Offa's Dyke. Drifting snow was often a problem; and there was no proper road to the house. We loved it.

Many Christmases were later spent in France, where Christmas itself, and roasted Turkeys, were not on the French radar. We ate Duck or Goose until around the late 1990's when Turkey became more available. The French themselves still prefer Capons.

I do like Christmas, but I don't like that the hype seems to start right after Easter these days; only giving way to a month of Black Friday shopping in between.

It's now not long before the big day, and we have the tree, a wreath, and twinkling lights all setting the scene for the biggest food-fest of the year. I can hardly wait.

We will only be four at table this year, but, luckily, they're four of my very favourite people (of course)!

Boys and dogs

Some people have all the luck.

My daughter is spending a pre-Christmas break in Bali (they live in Oz). 

Imagine a thatched cottage, with shady terrace overlooking swaying palms and crystal clear sea. You know the sort of thing.

Grandson Finn (below) is obviously missing his dogs, and has struck-up a relationship with a local puppy.

Once a dog lover, always a dog lover. He will search-out a stray and befriend it at once. He has obviously inherited my love of dogs.

Good boy!

 

Ready Meals.

I've been a bit incapacitated recently, and as such have not been able to prepare meals in my usual way. I haven't been able to go out shopping either, so Lady M has kindly, and happily, taken over responsibilities.

Ready meals can occasionally be very good. For example I often buy a Sainsbury's 'Butter Chicken Curry', that after some 'tweaking' become totally delicious. I've even seen an Indian man buying several packs. We also occasionally have an M & S Lasagna, or a Fish Pie. Both very good.

Recently Lady M couldn't resist an M & S Lamb Moussaka. I don't think I'd had a ready made Moussaka before, so I was very interested to see how it compared to home made.

Firstly I have to say that it was nothing like any Moussaka I'd eaten before. The Aubergine was very present and delicious, but the Lamb could almost have been anything. However, overall it was very tasty, but probably should have been sold under a different name.

Would we buy it again? Well, yes we would. It's a great stand-by to have in your freezer, and would never disappoint.

Verdict: 8/10 as a nice meal, but possibly not if you were expecting a genuine 'Moussaka'.

Christmas has begun.

We have, of course, been buying presents for others; all the usual things, gloves, scarves, chocolates, etc. But with 10 days still to go, we hadn't expected to actually receive anything for ourselves quite yet.

So, you can imagine our surprise when a dark green horse-drawn carriage pulled up outside (well, not quite) and a liveried flunky delivered this huge parcel from a well-known Knightsbridge Store. 

Lady M was tempted, but I persuaded her to wait till the big day.

I just hope it's not a pair of Black Lab' puppies, or a haunch of Venison. If it's starts either making a noise or begins to smell, we'll know that we should have opened it earlier. We are assured from Thailand that "Nothing should hatch for at least a week".

We are both very excited. It's not every day one receives such a lovely looking parcel.

 

House Building.

It may sound all very logical in the Student Common Room, but is the fragrant Ms Rayner's plan to build 1.5 Million new homes such a good idea? It has now become the flag-waving policy of the Labour Party.

It's been calculated that the area of 'Green Belt' land required to build these one and a half million new homes would cover an area the size of Surrey. In other words, about 640 Square Miles. 

Of course we need more housing, especially reasonably priced homes; but do we really need 1.5 million of them?

'Green Belt' areas were originally designed to halt the spread of Urban Sprawl, and to enhance the lives of town dwellers. Presumably the new Socialist dream is to encourage Urban Sprawl, and to devalue the quality of lives of those townies. I certainly haven't heard any townies cheering!

It may sound all very noble to say that we need these new houses, but the truth of the matter is that we really need a smaller population. We also need fewer power-crazy bureaucrats who refuse planning permission on perfectly viable non-green-belt sites.

In a recent interview with Laura Kuenssberg on BBC TV, Rayner stated that she 'dislikes' private landlords, and she wants to see people renting 'social housing' instead. So, is she expecting local councils to buy/build many of these 1.5 million new homes to let as council houses? What would then happen to all those empty privately owned houses and flats?

Perhaps The Government should buy all the closed-down Pontins Holiday Camps to house both the homeless, and our illegal immigrants. They're already built, they're empty, and there'll probably be more to come! They would probably also be very cheap.

Currently, just under 4,000 'rough sleepers' have nowhere to call home in the UK. I'm sure they could be accommodated without building 1.5 Million new homes. The illegal immigrant population are already housed in nice comfy hotels. And there are just over 300,000 others, representing about 85,000 families, who are classified as 'homeless', but they all have somewhere to live; albeit in possibly unsuitable accommodation.

So, who is going to buy, or rent, all these expensive new homes?

Look what I made!

I never bake, I never make pastry, and I never handle sugar.

However, yesterday I managed to make some Mince Pies. The urge got to me, and I threw caution to the winds.

I bought the pastry, I bought the mincemeat, and I bought two new sets of cutters; circular and star-shaped. The only bit I really did was to 'assemble', but even so I'm quite proud of myself.

Verdict: Well, the pastry was a bit hard, and the filling much too sweet. So, 4/10 (I'm being generous).

However for enthusiasm, expectation, appearance, and seasonal effort, I give myself 10/10.

 

SIX.

It's the twelfth of December; Billy's birthday. 

Billy hails from just outside Toulouse; he's a Toulousain. Border Collies are not breeds that one immediately associates with France, but he is an exception. I believe he was one of 7 siblings; and was 'headhunted' by Kimbo.

I'd been in an awful state. My previous dog, Bok, had just died, and I'd been alone at the house to cope with it all. I'd had a few really horrible weeks.

Then Lady M returned, accompanied by Kimbo holding a shoe box. The box contained an ugly little black and white puppy with a pink nose. It was Billy.

That was just six years ago, and he's not left my side since.

He no longer has that pink nose, and he's no longer ugly. In fact I would say he's grown into a very handsome young dog. 

So, HAPPY BIRTHDAY my darling Billy, and bonne anniversaire. I have a lunchtime treat for you. Let's both hope we have many more years together.

 

My Uncle Reg'.

Uncle Reg' was my father's older brother. I think he was the family 'Black Sheep'. He had a rakish, playboy look about him, and was eventually sent off to 'The Colonies' (Ceylon) to grow, and send back, Tea. I heard nothing of the Tea itself, but I do know that he sent back furs and jewels to my father in London, to sell on his behalf.

He was a natty dresser, took real pride in his appearance, and (I imagine) saw himself as a 'Lord of the Manor' type of character. My father said that he actually used to buy clothes just for specific photos of himself.

Here he is (below) in Ceylon on the tea estate. He is front row, second from left, with two tone shoes and nice white suit.

Sadly he contacted para-typhoid whilst out in Ceylon, and had to be repatriated. I believe that my grandfather had to send a doctor out specifically to accompany him back to England.

It's good to have at least one controversial family member. It gives us something interesting to discuss over the Port. I'm just sorry I didn't get to know him.

Bizarrely, he was named Reginald Ernest Terenzio; where on earth the 'Terenzio' came from I have no idea!!! I've tried to find if there was a famous 'Terenzio' around at the time, but I can't find anything. Perhaps my grandmother had a 'Terenzio' in her distant family. It will always remain a mystery; there's no-one left to ask.

 

Parlenka.

There must be hundreds of Cookery Journalists permanently scouring the world for new and exotic foods that we simply cannot live without. The dishes must come from somewhere inaccessible, with an exotic name, and usually be made by travelling nomads who speak an unknown language.

I come across such foods regularly in various publications. I look at them, consider their value, then usually dismiss them as a waste of time.

The latest such 'Super Food' I found is Parlenka (below). I was told that this fabulous Balkan dish will take the Western World by storm. I await anxiously! 

So, what is Parlenka? Well, it's a bit of flatbread with grated cheese on top. No more, no less.

Verdict: I haven't tasted it, I don't think I need to. 0/10

 

Assad

Generally speaking, artistic people mix with fellow artistic people, steel workers probably mix with fellow steel workers, and criminals certainly mix with fellow criminals.

So it's not surprising to see that evil tyrants tend to mix together too. If you are a recently deposed evil bast*rd dictator, where else would you go, but into the arms of an equally evil bastard who helped sustain your reign. 

Assad's time was up. He had to go; and it appears that he's headed for 'friendly' Russia.

No doubt, like so many dictators, he has filled his coffers in some Swiss bank account, and will be able to live a life of luxury; unless Putin manages to get his hands on it.

I only know one Syrian. A very nice man who runs a convenience store quite nearby. He has family in Aleppo, so I hope they are all OK. I must pop down to see him a.s.a.p.

But let's not kid ourselves about Syria, we must cross our fingers and hope that the 'rebel fighters' install a democratic system, and not replace repression with repression. With so many differing factions vying for power, it won't be easy.

I wish them luck.

 

Men Behaving Badly - Pub Rave

The 'Pub' watchdog' CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) has said that after Labour's recent disaster budget, about 1,200 pubs will close this year. In fact it may well be many more.

I used to go to my local about once a week for a couple of pints, but these days the cost is prohibitive; unless, of course, you're a Train driver, Plumber, or Electrician.

A Pint of Bitter costs over £5 these days; that's the price of a bottle of wine. This is why so many people (like me) prefer to stay indoors, and shout at the TV.

Wild Swans

I first read Jung Chang's 'Wild Swans' back in the mid-90's. It was essential reading at the time, and its revelations shocked me.

Lady M recently bought another (brand new) copy from a Charity Shop, which I am now reading for the second time.

The book covers the lives of three generations of Chinese women from the beginning of the last century to the end.

It describes atrocities committed by The Chinese, The Japanese, and The Russians, in the western Sichuan province. It is an extraordinary insight into life in 'modern' China; half of which took place during my own lifetime. It is a damning resumé of chaos, extortion, murder, torture, and the sexual inequalities of life under the different factions of communism.

I don't imagine that the book is sold in China; but it should be.

I see the book in the same light as Solzhenitsyn's 'The Gulag Archipelago'. Essential reading if one wants to understand much about Communist Russia. My late Father-in-Law was 'our man' in Moscow for a while, and much of what he experienced confirmed Solzhenitsyn's accounts. Not a lot has changed.

It's a long time since I read Wild Swans, and I'm being as shocked as I was previously. It begins with tales of 'foot binding', and ends with success at university and a visit to England; unimaginable at the beginning of the century. One chapter is entitled 'Daughter for Sale for 10 Kilos of Rice', which gives an inkling into the state of the nation.

It's a lengthy read, but if you have the time I recommend. But be prepared to be shocked.

 

Inappropriate behaviour.

 

If you live in the UK, you will have been bombarded with tales about the 'Masterchef' presenter, Gregg Wallace's inappropriate behaviour.

I have no idea how bad it has been, but I expect it's all based on cheeky East End banter, as used to be the standard fare of builders and market traders everywhere. As far as I've seen he's not being accused of rape or any form of sexual violence. One has to remember that Wallace was an East End grocer; not unknown for their 'cheeky quips'.

He didn't make himself popular by saying that his accusers were all middle-class women of a certain age. He should have kept his silly mouth closed.

Well, I shall now reveal that I too have been the recipient of 'inappropriate behaviour'.

Back in about 1971, I was teaching at a prestigious Girl's Boarding School in Shropshire, we even had the daughter of a Prime Minister there. As a young Art Master, one of only two male teachers (the other was much older), I became the object of much giggling and teasing; some of which was very suggestive in a none too sophisticated double entendre fashion. I didn't mind too much, but had I been female, and the pupils male, it might have been very different.

A few years later, again in Shropshire, I became the Chairman of my village Youth Club. Again I became the object of some curiosity; a sports car driving, young man, living in the big house, I attracted some bizarre attention from some of the female club members. Youngish girls would phone me in the evenings and make strange sexual suggestions. They were only having a bit of fun, so again I didn't really mind, and tried to ignore it.

I only mention these two incidents because they are my only experience.

You will probably think that it's very different for a man to receive such attention, and I would agree with you to an extent, but it did give me an insight into unwanted behaviour.

I don't know the extent of Gregg Wallace's behaviour, but I quite expect it was not dis-similar to the girls at the school where I taught. Probably harmless; but unwarranted. However if it proves to be much more serious then he must pay the price, just like everyone else.

I'd never thought anything about Wallace previously, but he sounds like a total plonker.

Wander lust

Here he is, the old vagrant. Sitting on the steps of an Irish 'Open Lot' wagon. On my knee is young Kimbo, and trying to climb up to join us is Tenpin. I only had two children at the time. The picture was taken behind our huge stone barn in France.

The wagon belonged to Wedgie-Benn's niece and her boyfriend. They had taken a year off from teaching, and were travelling the back roads of France, heading south. They stayed with us for a couple of months. Their horse was called Joe, their dog was Mumper, and their two hens were Henny Penny and Penny Henny.

Joe was a Welsh Cob, an ex London Rag-n-Bone man's horse. We had a very old two-wheeled trap at the farm, and he pulled it as beautifully as he did the wagon. Here I am (below) heading off somewhere, with dog Dart (Dartagnon) in tow. The trap was dumped in the barn when I bought the farm in 1973 (in the background), along with all sorts of other treasures.

Our guests eventually moved on and headed to the south coast, where they sold the wagon and Joe with it. I'm rather sorry they didn't offer it to me first, I might well have taken to the road, and changed my name to Cro Petulengro.

 

Winters Past.

It hasn't been particularly cold here yet this winter. 

Our previous winters in France were very different to our winters today.

We lived in a 300 year old stone cottage, with no central heating. The only heating we had came from our own hard work, which always began at one of the log piles. This one below was the Oak pile.

Our wood, both Oak and Chestnut, was delivered in one metre length logs. As both our kitchen stove (George), and our sitting room wood-burner (Gilbert) both took 33 cm length logs, there was sawing to be done every day.

Of course I always kept a few days worth of cut logs in store, just in case of bad weather, otherwise it was out every morning with the chainsaw and wheelbarrows, to top-up reserves. We needed about two filled wheelbarrows per day to run both stoves.

In fact I rather enjoyed this task. It was 'real', and kept me in touch with life's essentials. These days we live with push-button heating; no dust, no smoke, no exercise, and no focus point to the room.

                              

It wasn't only us who appreciated the heat. Here are Monty and Bok showing their absolute pleasure, lying on the rug in front of the blazing wood-burner. They loved it.

Of course we didn't always have our Godin wood-burner. Previously we had a huge open fire with antique Fire Dogs, and a cast iron Fire Back, both of which you can still see to the left of the burner. Sadly the metre length logs would spit, and we worried that our nice rugs and sofas would catch fire. I regret the decision to install the more sensible wood-burner to this day, but it possibly saved the cottage from burning down. These days we can light-up, go away for several hours, and the burner will still be going strong when we return.

Central heating is all very convenient, but there is no romance in it.

Brighton Fashion (men's)

If there is one item of men's clothing that is 100% de rigueur in 2024 Brighton, it's old and faded French workmen's jackets. The older and more faded the better. 

Someone must be importing them from France by the thousand, and they come in all conditions and states of ageing. Holes and patches are quite acceptable. The French themselves no longer wear them.

I think they were made popular by certain UK TV personalities who always wore them. Gardner Monty Don, and Antiques dealer Drew Pritchard are never seen in anything else. I've even seen a morning TV Show Doctor wearing one. There are others too.

I did have one of these jackets many years ago, but it became lost. These days I have a more 'sophisticated' denim version, that doesn't have at all the same allure.

Brighton is a very left-wing/green party city, and I imagine that locals see a similarity between the fashion style of French workmen, and Mao Zedong (Up the workers, everybody out!). 

I must say, I love these jackets myself too, and am quite jealous every time I see one passing by.

 

Sleaze Season.

 

Seeing as every peccadillo committed by the Tories was classified as 'Sleaze' by the Socialists, I suppose that 'what goes around comes around', and the honour must be reciprocated.

This time it's the fragrant Liz Kendall; the minister for ROBBING pensioners of their £300 winter fuel allowance.

It seems that Ms Kendall, and her Old Etonian city-banker partner, live in a £4 Million Notting Hill mansion, and, guess what; they have their heating bills paid by US THE TAXPAYERS. What a bloody cheek. Super-Sleaze indeed!

It has been revealed that she claimed £3,810 for her 2023/24 heating bill, with the largest monthly payment being £352. A movement is afoot to make her repay the money; she can certainly afford to!

As her partner, James Ind, is an Old Etonian, one also has to wonder if Ms Kendall has had words with Angela Rayner over calling him "A Misogynistic, racist, homophobic, banana republic, pile of Scum". Oh dear! Red faces!

It has also been revealed that Kendall and Ind scrape by on a combined salary of just £760,000. Great work, if you can get it.

The only other Sleaze to hit The Labour Party last week (that I know of) was that of Louise Haigh. The fragrant Ms Haigh was the UK Transport Secretary until she resigned over a fraud conviction involving an Aviva work mobile Phone that she claimed had been stolen. It hadn't, and she was convicted. Naughty naughty!

Meanwhile in the USA there's been even more sleaze. Biden has pardoned his charming son, Hunter, of gun and tax offenses. This must be one of the worst cases of nepotism in the history of America. It really pays to have a father in high office.

Generic Products

I wouldn't mind betting that every one of us has, at some time or other, gone for a cheaper generic product rather than our usual well-loved branded one; and regretted it. Saving a few pence is always appealing.

We have bought Marmotte instead of Marmite, Klogs cornflakes instead of Kelloggs, and Hines ketchup instead of Heinz. Usually to our disappointment.

Normally I'm a Coopers Oxford Vintage (thick cut) Marmalade person. But a few years ago I discovered the above; Duerr's thick cut Seville Orange Marmalade. I opened the jar with trepidation, but it was excellent.

Duerr's was founded in 1881, so they've been around a while. I also see by the label that they are based in Manchester, which I believe is half way between Liverpool and Sheffield. It's in the North of England.

Occasionally a generic product can be as good as, if not better than, the original; but not too often. This one is excellent, and, of course, is considerably cheaper than Coopers. I can recommend. 

Enjoy your breakfast!

 

Confined to Barracks.

 

I've had a pretty awful couple of weeks, and it still ain't over yet!

Having not been ill for about 5 years, I caught a dreadful bloody cold/flu/covid; probably covid, and it's been very nasty.

Then a couple of days ago I somehow managed to twist my left ankle, and I can hardly walk.

I can't go for walks with Billy, and I have no idea how long it'll take to heal.

Of course, I also have to cope with my sciatica, arthritic hips, dodgy right knee, and painful shoulders.

What a bloody mess. Only time will heal, and I hope that time passes swiftly. My life is miserable at the moment.

And to add insult to injury, I have now gone about 98% DEAF. Whatever next!!!!

Gawd, I hate being ill. I'd almost forgotten what it was like!

p.s. My feet are size 10, and not long thin 18's as they appear in the photo.

Winter Wonderland in Brighton.

I'm not a skater, nor am I ever likely to be. However if I was, I'd be off to The Pavilion at once.

The Royal Pavilion is home to an annual temporary ice rink. If you're thinking of coming, it costs £11 per 45 mins, or £9 if you're under 12.

But what a back-drop! The location is stunning, it must be the most beautiful ice rink in the UK.

I have only tried to ice skate once, and that was with just one skate. I very soon landed on my backside, and felt the pain for several weeks. I must have been about 7 or 8, our rink was a frozen river.

I notice that there is a Café/Bar for observers at The Pavilion; how very sensible. 

I have a very long bucket list of things I never want to do; ice skating is very high up!

 

Question

This young lady is called Jaelynn Chaney, and as you can see she's quite large.

She is currently running a campaign against airlines that charge her for TWO seats, if she occupies TWO seats. She thinks she should only be charged for ONE.

What do you think?

 

Bakkwa

Whilst my son, Kimbo, was in Singapore on business recently, I asked him to bring back some of these strange little vacuum-packed meaty strips that you see below.

He had brought some back the last time he was there, and I loved them.

They are known as 'Bakkwa', and are slightly sweet meaty strips of pork. They also go by the name of MINI EZ. In the photo above, the one on the right is actually out of its packet, and shows how they look when eaten.

I suppose the nearest equivalent must be a sweet version of Biltong, but really the comparison is nowhere near. It is also known as Chinese Pork Jerky, which probably gives a better idea of its flavour.

Bakkwa is nothing like anything we know of in the UK, and a big pack from Kimbo was extremely welcome. 

He never lets me down!

 

Our Deputy Prime Minister.

Angela Rayner is the UK's Deputy Prime Minister. No, she really is!

She doesn't have any of the classic attributes of a senior British politician, in fact she left school aged 16 (whilst 'with child'), and with no qualifications. She later became a Trade Union representative with the powerful Unison Union, before deciding to enter politics. Amazingly she found enough people to vote for her, and she became an MP. 

A video has recently surfaced of her discussing certain English school children.

She described them collectively as a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, banana republic, pile of scum. I'm not quite sure what she meant by 'banana republic'.

The children she was referring to attend one of Britain's most exclusive schools. Everything about Eton College spells 'excellence'. Entry requirements are possibly the most rigorous in the country, and anything other than constant hard work, and good behaviour, is rewarded by expulsion. Many of our most eminent politicians, military personnel, and businessmen, are alumni. Yet Rayner describes them all as SCUM.

I'm sure that none of them would describe HER as scum, they are too well educated, but Ms Rayner seems to think that anyone who didn't follow in her own lowly footsteps is fair game for her particular form of bile.

One doesn't wish to be too harsh on Ms Rayner. Most of us understand that her upbringing wasn't perfect, so we can forgive her much of her mindlessness. But to attack people because they are 'bright' is appalling; even for a Labour Deputy Prime Minister. Frankly, after such revelations as we saw in the video, I'm astounded that she hasn't resigned. But I suppose 'doing the decent thing' isn't something you'd associate with Ms Rayner.

Can you imagine a senior Tory politician describing all Comprehensive School children as 'scum'? It simply would never happen!

 

The wee small hours.

I get up at 5 am. Never 4.30 am, or 5.30 am, but at 5 am.

This gives me about 30 mins to make myself a cup of something hot, and to have a small amount of breakfast, such as these Anchovies on toast below.

I then take a few pills to keep myself alive, before sitting down in front of my laptop at 5.30 am.

Like all bloggers, I then carry-out a list of essential tasks. I post the day's wisdom, answer comments from the previous day, then go to the list of other blogs I follow, and make some witty remarks. Then it's down to business.

I answer all my incoming Emails, send a few of my own, and delete all the spam that has accumulated over night. I look at the Weather Forecast, and read a few News articles from the MSN selection. If I still have the time, and I have nothing better to do, I might even have a quick look at my Facebook page, but only in desperation. 

By this time Billy has started to give me 'knowing looks', and if it's light enough (about 7.30 am) we will head-off together to the 'Rest Garden' by the church; about 200 yards away, for his first emptying walk of the day.

There are usually a few other stalwarts around, and we always greet each other. Billy chases Pigeons, Seagulls, and Squirrels, as we do our single circuit of the park before going around the church itself on our way home again.

It's a really lovely time of day (as long as it's not raining). I do like the dusky look about early mornings, and people seem friendlier too. There's a mutual understanding between those who share the quiet of the pre-rush hours. I have become friends with road sweepers, bin-men, postmen, paper-boys, and various cats.

Then back home to a cup of freshly ground coffee, and to the rest of the morning spent wandering aimlessly (unless I have tasks to do). 

It's a great life.

 

Stone

I suppose it's because I worked briefly as a stone-cutter, that I like to have bits of old stone carving around me. I first studied stone-cutting under Hilary Stratton, who worked with Eric Gill.

For a while I worked 'commercially' stone-cutting for my friend FB in France. He installed stone windows, doorways, fireplaces etc; mostly in medieval styles. We had to fetch the stone, cut it, and install it. It was back-breaking work, which is why I didn't continue for too long. Our methods were quite primitive too; he didn't believe in machinery.

I began colleting bits and pieces of old cut stone about 50 years ago. I have bits all over the place, both here and in France.

I'll let you into a secret. If you find a small ancient walled cemetery out in the French countryside, rather than walking around the cemetery itself, walk around the OUTSIDE of the wall. The French like many other  nationalities, believe in the notion of 'Out of sight, out of mind', and they throw all their unwanted funereal rubbish over the wall. This makes for wonderful scavenging. You would be amazed at what you'll find.

One such find was this Corinthian capital that I later made into the lamp you see. The smaller pinnacle beside it is a souvenir of the Great 1987 storm, here in Brighton. Bits of old monuments were broken off by falling branches, this was one small bit.

When I look at bits of old carved stone, it always makes me think of the people who carved them. Even that capital probably took quite a few hours to cut, whilst constantly checking measurements, checking pattern, and making sure it will fit perfectly into its place. Not as easy as it looks. Then someone throws it over a wall, like rubbish.

Charming!

 

Benefits claimants under attack.

Over this past weekend we read that Sir Keir 'freebie' Starmer has added those who live on benefits to his list of those he intends to clobber. He wants to stop the scroungers (who he describes as a blight) from visiting their Spanish villas, and restrict their car ownership to just TWO (or at a push, three).  For heaven's sake Starmer; these are your core supporters; the very people who voted you in!!!

I now hear that just like the Farmers (who they may join-up with) they will soon leave their comfortable Surrey or Cotswold homes, Jump in their Land Rovers (see the subtle link?), and parade around Westminster shouting "Free money for anyone who demands it", and "Hands off my comfortable lifestyle", etc. 

It's difficult to see who he can add next to his list of Labour Party deserters, there are only the powerful Union members left, and he can't touch their inflated salaries (other than to add to them).

He thinks he can save £137 Billion by being beastly to the scroungers. Well, maybe he can, but he'll lose £137 Billion worth of his supporters at the same time.

So; he's had a go at pensioners, at businessmen, at the people who grow our food, and now he's having a go at his hard core LABOUR VOTERS. The only people he's helped so far have been wealthy Rail Union members who've been given a huge pay rise.

p.s. I also now see that an online petition demanding a re-run of the recent election gained over 1.800,000 signatures on the first days of opening, and is gaining 100,000 per hour. 

He's not making himself popular, is he!

Men Behaving Badly Sailing

An evening 'down the pub'.

Padron.

Strangely, I had just been thinking of writing to the manager of my 'hypermarket' to ask him/her to stock Padron Peppers. I tend to do that sort of thing!

Then, almost as if in answer to my prayers, there they were in amongst the more common Peppers. A very familiar looking pack, not unlike the ones I buy in France.

I buy these often in France, but I'd never seen them sold here. Anyone who has visited a Spanish Tapas bar will know these well.

They are simply fried in Olive Oil until they blister (about 5 mins), then are sprinkled with coarse sea salt, and left to cool a bit. They are NOT spicy hot, but mild and almost sweet. They are eaten tepid.

                                           

If you're tempted, try the larger Sainsbury's. Just say Cro sent you!

Black Pudding.

I do understand that Black Pudding is not to everyone's taste; more for the thought of it than for the actual flavour.

I've had great difficulty finding decent Black Pudding here in the South of England. Even versions that claim to have been made in Bury (the home of English Black Pudding) have been extremely disappointing. I still occasionally buy it anyway.

Back in France I have no problem finding really good Boudin. My current favourite is the above; Boudin Landais from Leclerc. It has just the right amount of each ingredient. Delicious.

Being a Southern boy, I had never encountered Black Pudding; it simply didn't exist down here when I was young. My first introduction was on the Shropshire/Wales border, in a 'greasy spoon café'. I had ordered a 'Full English' and found amongst the delights were some strange looking black discs. I had to to ask what they were, which prompted some strange looks; as if I was some bizarre alien.

Anyway, I loved it, and so started my continued search for a better and better product. I need to visit more Black Pudding shops; if I can find any!

 

Canine Therapy.

 

If you are feeling depressed, unwanted, unloved, alone, permanently miserable, invisible, and/or useless, I have the solution. GET A DOG.

I'm out-n-about twice a day with Billy, and I have noticed one glaringly obvious fact; dog owners are 99% extremely friendly. Non-dog people simply point their faces either at the ground or at their phones. They walk around with giant earphones on (or are they giant ear-muffs?), as if the rest of the world doesn't exist. They never greet you. Dog walkers, on the other hand, always smile and say a cheery 'Good Morning', and possibly chat for a while. It's like being a member of a 'Friendly Club', with all non members looking as miserable as sin (most of them, anyway).

I'd noticed this way back in the early 70's when my first son was still in a buggy, and our dog, Hamlet, was still a puppy. When we went into town on market days we could hardly walk a few yards without someone saying Koochy-Koo to the tiny Kimbo, or stooping to stroke Hamlet. Again, it was like suddenly being admitted to a secret club.

The next question must be, what type of dog should you have.

The three friendliest dogs that attract the most attention must be Golden Retrievers, Black Labs, and Yellow Labs. Coming in at a close 2nd place must be Border Collies, and most shaggy Terriers. But be warned, if you have any of these expect your days to be very different.

Walk down your High Street with any of these dogs and you will be assailed by fellow dog lovers who will recognise you as a fellow 'Nice Person'. Expect delays.

We've all heard of people taking Therapy Dogs into care homes or hospices. It is quite amazing the effect of stroking a Golden Retriever can have on the elderly or infirm. Faces light-up, and they become more animated. The effect is instantaneous.

So, there you are. Get a Dog; preferably a Golden Retriever.

A few pictures of Brighton.

There was some frost on top of the nearby cars yesterday morning, so it was out with the 'Polar Fleece' and gloves. Here are a few photos of Brighton in warmer times, for those who may not know my lovely city.

Above is the beautiful Bandstand on the beach. Built in 1884, it's a focal point along the promenade, and very popular with newlyweds for their wedding pix.

The Brighton Pavilion doesn't need much introduction. Built very centrally in town, it was the seaside second-home of The Prince of Wales, The Prince Regent, who late became King George IV. It dates from 1787. Simply gorgeous.

And here is just a tiny section of 'The Lanes'. The old fishing village area of Brighton now filled with cafés, restaurants, antique shops, pubs, jewelers, etc. The perfect spot for a leisurely stroll on a warm Summer's day.

There's so much more, but I'll leave that for another day.