Summer Bedroom

I have now moved my sleeping arrangements from the house to 'The Tower' as I do most summers. It's a very friendly little building, with a large sliding glazed double door looking out over tranquil countryside.  

We built it in 2010, with most of the work being done by ourselves. I had a builder put up the original blockwork, then the rest was done by Lady M and myself; including all the exterior rendering and interior plastering. I've still not yet painted the interior.

I had never built a whole roof before. From visiting the sawmill to ordering the hand-made tiles, all was new to me. We needed ceiling timbers (see photo), and we needed the wood for the roof structure itself. Those ceiling timbers are all solid Oak (the main beam had to be lifted into place with a tractor), and the roof structure was Chestnut which we hauled up manually. All design work was done on the back of an envelope, and I only made one mistake which was soon rectified.

My proudest bit of the whole construction is that decorative bit at the top of the wall and the bottom of the roof. It is called a 'Genoise' here, and brings the roof out beyond the wall. Again I simply worked out how to do it by 'thinking' about it.

We have now run a temporary electrical wire into the tower to feed a bedside lamp, otherwise it is still without any mod-cons.

It is one of delights of the Summer, moving into the tower. It's what we built it for, and it serves its purpose beautifully. I lie in bed looking up at those Oak timbers and marvel at how I managed to do it all. 

The roof tiles are all hand-made 'peg tiles'; no nails, they simply rest on the laths.

Being in there at night doesn't make me sleep any better, and of course I don't have my internet radio to listen to (too far from the Router). But it's a lovely place to be, and we shall remain there until Kimbo and Susie come next month. They book it in advance!

'Consequences'

 

I've known the name Penelope Lively for many years, but her work has never come my way; nor have I sought it out.

Lady M had just finished one of her books and suggested that I might enjoy it; although she had her reservations.

It may sound old-fashioned, but I like a good story, with preference for a good chronological one with a beginning, middle, and end. All this came together in Ms Lively's novel 'Consequences'. 

It's a family saga that runs from the start of WW2 through to today (it was written in 2007). It is the story of a family that suffers highs and lows, with all that that entails, from mother to daughters to sons, and from house to house. I won't spoil the story, but a circle is joined.

Ms Lively writes beautifully in a clear and un-fussy prose that is deceptively simple. Her attention to detail never leaves us feeling uninformed. 

Lady M said it brought her to tears on occasions, and she worried that it may not be my bag, but I found the story fascinating, and an absolute pleasure to read.

For me, my main pleasure comes from reading beautifully written prose, and Ms Lively certain fills that criteria. I recommend.

The 'Silly Season' continues.

It's good to see that the incoming Labour Government are really getting down to brass tacks in their first few weeks in office. Plenty of new policies have been revealed in the recent 'King's Speech', amongst which was one very important one concerning our precious country's criminal classes.

The new Minister for 'Being Nice to Criminals', Ms Shabana Mahmood (above), has decided that, as Britain's prisons are somewhat over-crowded, rather than build new ones she will release lots of nasty criminals early from the old ones.

In fact 5,500 are to be released, including 1,700 who are serving sentences of more than 5 years. How she came across these figures is anyone's guess!

Ms Mahmood said "This could lead to an increase in crimes committed, which would come with a socio-economic cost".

Well, thanks for that Shabana, I'm sure that England feels so much safer now, knowing that you're in charge!

Heaven effing help us!!!!!!

 

STRICTLY

 

Strictly Come Dancing is a BBC 'reality TV show' that began back in 2004, with professional dancers being teamed with amateurs in a dancing knock-out competition. I believe that the format has been sold to several other countries, where I'm sure they enjoy it as much as they do in the UK.

I've watched the show on several occasions, and one of my favourite participants was the ex-politician Anne Widdecombe (above on floor). She did her best, poor gal, and was thrown about by her pro-partner, Anton du Beke, like a bag of potatoes. All who saw that episode will never forget it.

The programme has recently come under fire from some of the amateurs, claiming that they were bullied, or even assaulted by their pro's. The papers have been running stories for the past few weeks. I noticed recently that even the lovely Anne Widdecombe herself has now joined the controversy, and has told many of the amateurs (especially the celeb-amateurs) to stop all their 'whingeing and whining'.

The truth is this. The professional dancers, who are responsible for teaching their amateur partners a routine, do not wish to be seen as amateurish themselves, and therefore are quite strict in their training. I believe they have just one week to learn the routine. They want their partners to look good, otherwise their own reputations might suffer. This isn't an excuse to punch or kick, but their partners who are being very well paid, need to pay attention and perform as well as possible.

Life on the ballroom floor isn't like the Lower IVth form playground. There is no room for "Sir, Sir, that boy just pulled my hair", you have to pick yourself up, get back into position, and do your very best. That 90 second example of how well you have learned, is soon over. No time for moaning about how hard the training's been. When my Rugby coach got a tad 'physical' during training, I never went off the field blubbing and complaining; so nor should they!

I have no idea if the show will survive all the controversy, which seems to be growing by the minute, but I hope it does. It's simply a bit of Saturday night light entertainment, and, frankly, I don't think that anyone who watches it gives a hoot if some minor celeb has been shouted at. We're there only for that final 90 seconds of 'dancing'; not to listen to a bunch of Moaning Minnies.

Happy (are you serious?) Birthday Cro.

 

I'm 78 years old today, and I feel about 90. We had planned a visit to our only remaining good nearby restaurant tonight, but I don't have the heart for it. 

I shall prepare a simple Magret de Canard instead, with a few chips and some salad. I know it'll be lovely, and I'll save about 100 Euros. Now I really do know I'm getting old!

OUCH!

 

We all experience aches and pains at some time or other; some are almost inconsequential, whilst others can be all-invading and debilitating.

For some time I've been suffering from Sciatica, onset of hip osteoarthritis, and a dodgy right knee. All of which were not really life-changing.

However, just recently my right hip has really started 'playing-up', and is extremely painful. Walking short distances has become a nightmare, and going up and down stairs takes me for ever.

Not only is the pain itself very unpleasant, but I'm not someone who likes to sit down and do nothing. I like to be active all day long, and I have a lot to do.

I have now made an appointment to see my old doctor; it is for August 5th (England is not alone in long waiting times). I need some serious pain killers, I've tried Ibuprofen and Diclofenac but neither seem to do much good. I now have to wait two bloody weeks before I can be prescribed something stronger; if indeed he'll give me something stronger!

UK Riots, etc.

It's Summer's 'Silly Season', and that means hot nights and rioting. Goodness knows what started this one in Leeds, but it soon got out of hand, and the usual suspects quickly joined in with the smashing, burning, and probably looting that usually accompanies such events.

Below shows the newly elected 'Gaza Party' councillor Mothin Ali attempting to stop the riot, and pouring water on the burning cars.

Leeds is a city in Northern England's county of Yorkshire. It has a very concentrated ethnic minority population, and I can only imagine that there is some conflict between the Leeds Hamas supporters and the newly elected Labour government, who understandably are trying to remain impartial over Middle Eastern affairs (hence Mr Ali's recent election).

Rioting does no-one any good, and will often 'stereotype' the reputation of certain groups. The mess will need to be tidied, cars and busses replaced, and countless windows reglazed. Local 'rates' will probably need to rise to pay for it all.

I have just read that the Police were called out at 5 pm, then having seen the scale of the riots, didn't return until 1 am. They probably feared for their lives.

But not all is bad during this year's Silly Season. I see that the founding members of the 'Just Stop Oil' group have been given some quite hefty prison sentences. Their attempt to stop the flow of traffic on the M25 (London's ring-road) was serious enough for a judge to award 5 years for the group's woke founder and leader Roger Hallam, and 4 years each for his wokey acolytes. A tad harsh maybe.

However. Plenty of time for reflection.

Truancy

 

I was recently listening to a fascinating, yet quite frightening, report into the level of truancy in the UK.

During the initial Covid crisis, schools were closed in order to restrict the spread of infection, and it seems that since those days school attendance has become a matter of choice rather than obligation. Huge numbers of children in the State System now prefer to 'bunk-off' school, and hang around street corners instead.

Regardless of what one thinks about private education, the one thing one can guarantee is that truancy hardly exists. There are of course exceptions, but they are extremely rare.

It has been suggested by one Educational Advisory Group that teachers stop being cynical towards regular truants when (or if) they do turn-up at school. No more "How kind of you to honour us with your presence", instead to welcome them back with open arms.

Many children now become 'carers' at an early age, and have huge amounts of work to do at home before even thinking of school. A disabled parent to care for, siblings to dress, feed, and keep clean, washing, shopping, cooking, all can suddenly be dumped on the shoulders of a school-age child. Truancy in such cases is understandable, and the families should be helped.

But mostly the truants simply can't be bothered, they prefer to hang around with their mates and get up to all sorts of mischief. With little education, I fear what will become of them! Maybe some new form of National Service would help them back into the fold.

I believe that the new Minister for Edjukayshun, Ms Bridget Phillipson, will be looking into the matter.

Good luck!

US Politics; a view from abroad.

 

I must admit that I know nothing at all of internal US politics, but like most people in the world I do pay attention to the USA's external image. i.e. The Biden/Trump Show.

I don't think I've ever experienced a nation's election-build-up being quite as bizarre and unpleasant as this current one in the USA.

We've had the sitting POTUS being told he should be in a hospice, we've had his felon opponent being shot at, and now we have Trump's new running-mate, J D Vance, being spoken of as 'one of the least liked' (I'm being kind here) man in US politics.

Here in Europe, we've all become extremely bored with recent British and French elections, but now we have to endure several months of these two elderly men fighting over The White House.

I don't wish to over simplify, but we are very lucky in Europe to have a good selection of capable, youngish, middle-aged, politicians from whom to choose; but given the choice of Biden or Trump, I think I might move to Hawaii.

Will Covid-stricken Biden eventually give way to a younger candidate? Will Trump survive another assassination attempt? Will there be some new 'Stormy' waiting in the wings?

We have several months of tedious campaigning ahead of us, which the UK press will happily bore us with, and frankly the sooner it's all over the better. As I said above, I don't know much about US politics, but I do know that Russia, China, and even N Korea, are all laughing their socks off, whilst we in The West watch as our hair turns grey!

Meanwhile, Biden's supporters say he's the best thing since sliced bread; and, guess what; Trump's supporters say the same of him! Good luck y'all, it seems to be 50/50.

JOLLITY FARM- The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band

I'm feeling a bit PISSED OFF at the moment, so here is some good ole English Morris Dancing, to the musical accompaniment of the Bonzo Dog boys. A perfect combination.

I first saw the Bonzo Dogs in about 1966, at the Black Cat pub' in Catford. They were spectacular; one of the best gigs I've ever been to. Life was good, and Viv Stanshall and Neil Innes at their best. 

Yet another Art College band; they seem to hold the monopoly.

Another local speciality.

This is another local French speciality that's worth looking-out for.

Jambonneau is the knuckle end of a ham (no bones), and is preserved differently to the actual ham itself.

It this case it is in a thick jelly, not unlike that which one finds inside a Pork Pie.

It is quite fatty, but the flavour is wonderful. It doesn't look particularly appetising (in a traditional way) with plenty of pig skin still attached to the meat. But all is edible, and it's another great addition to a picnic; as long as you can keep it cold. Otherwise the jelly would melt.

A good country Baguette, and some Mustard or Gherkins, and you have a meal fit for Louis XIV.

This is the only particular producer I can really recommend. They are called Conserves Mercadier, and come from the nearby town of Eymet. I see on the label that, other than the Pork, it also contains some garlic, salt, and celery.

Enjoy.

 p.s. In the top photo you might just see a hiding plateful of Cepes and Girolles. We are still eating our wonderful daily lunchtime omelets.

Books.

 

The half dozen shelves in the spare bedroom, that we amusingly call our 'Library', contain some surprisingly good books. Where many of them came from I have no idea, but most are ones that Lady M and myself have accumulated over the decades.

My intention this Summer had been to read some Dickens, but I have been seduced by D H Lawrence, Anton Chekov, Noel Coward, and a few other notables. I've even been re-reading one or two of my own offerings.

I'm currently reading a very large paperback book of Noel Coward's 'Short Stories', but the type face is VERY small (above), and it is extremely tiring to read. In fact I'm thinking of abandoning Mr Coward; I'm finding his writing style too heavy going. He seems to have written just for the sake of writing, and forgets the reader. 

Anyway, I've mostly been reading other 'Short Stories', as one can put them down and take up again without losing any plot. The sort of books one might take on holiday.

Before coming to France, Lady M bought an old favourite; Graham Greene's 'Travels with my Aunt'. It's a book we both read many years ago, and with our current connection with Brighton, and the church, and the Dog show, we thought it would be fun to read again. I'm loving it.

Padron

I had been looking for some small green peppers to fry for lunch, and by chance I found the exact one's I was after. Padron Peppers from Spain, as served in Tapas bars everywhere. I was very surprised to find them in my usual supermarket; neatly wrapped in cellophane. I had never seen them on sale previously.

These lovely little green peppers are gently fried and tossed in olive oil until they 'blister' all over, then they are left to cool, and are sprinkled with Sea Salt. About 5 mins work.

And here they are (below) as part of a simple Summer salad. They are delicious, and will be on my shopping list for the rest of the Summer.

If you've never tasted them, I recommend that you do. They aren't hot, they are soft sweet and delicious, with a slightly grassy flavour, and always leave you wanting more.

CRASH $2 300 000 Lotus Crashes

It's the Goodwood 'Festival of Speed' season yet again, when out come the world's most beautiful, expensive, and ridiculously fast cars. They are admired, photographed, and raced, and their petrol-head owners strut around like Peacocks, with Lord March always amongst them.

Everything doesn't always go to plan on the Hill Climb, and even a nice little Lotus can come a cropper after just a few yards (see below). I hope he can get the spare parts he'll need!

I'm not into fast fancy cars myself, but I know a couple of guys who are. My childhood friend, the Tennis photographer Michael Cole, has always been a car nut, and I think still owns several collectors cars (E Types, etc). 

But another old school friend's father was probably the most fanatical. Not only did he have a fleet of very fancy fast cars but they all had fancy number plates too; he had RU 1, NO 2, and IAM 3, etc. He also had his own full-time mechanic, and held some important position at Snetterton Race Circuit. I remember when he sold one of his more precious cars, the new owner crashed it, and he paid to have it restored. True dedication!

I have owned a Triumph TR, and a crazy 3.5 litre Rover SDI, but otherwise I've always been satisfied with more run-of-the-mill sedate motors; and will remain so. I don't have the money for anything fancier anyway!

I wonder how the owner of the Lotus (above) felt after his crash, or what his wife said to him when he got home!!!

Lost then found.

One of the things that seemed to be missing after our burglary earlier this year was this Stone Age hand tool.

OK, it's annoying to lose TV's, Hi Fi kit, and other bits of electrical stuff, but this was something very special for us.

However, yesterday Lady M was rooting around in some cupboard drawers; and there it was, wrapped in some blue paper. She must have put it away on some whim; it's almost as if she'd predicted a burglary.

Such finds are not rare hereabouts, but they're not common either. I can remember exactly when and where I found it. It had been raining hard overnight, then the following morning I was passing by a freshly ploughed field (on my way mushrooming) when I saw something 'glinting' on the surface. I thought perhaps it was something metallic, but it was the above. I couldn't believe my luck.

I've since found other Stone Age artifacts, but nowhere near as perfect as this one. I imagine the original owner must have been furious to have lost it.

We both heaved a HUGE sigh of relief at finding it again.
 

Shock Horror!

I must admit to being quite shocked, and certainly disappointed; Lady Magnon has been very busy recently jam-making, but she has removed all the pips from her 'Plum Pip Jam'.

Usually the pips are there, and we filter them out as we go. But this year she must have been reading (I imagine) her 'How to be the perfect WI Jam maker' book, and we are to have a very different product.

She's making another batch today, but I didn't dare ask if it will be her traditional recipe (pips in), or her more refined version (pips out). Only time will tell. 

We now have about 12 jars; whatever's left of which will return to Brighton to accompany our Winter toast.

I have, of course tasted it. It's very good, as usual.

 

Dogs-n-Cats

 

I can't imagine not having a dog in the house, even though I have sworn that Billy will be my last!

These two below were just wonderful. First we had Monty (the Lab'). He came from a rescue center run by the wonderful Miss Tadpole. Then our neighbour's dog, Bok, became friends with him, and they were inseparable; his owner eventually asked us if we'd like to have him, as he practically lived with us anyway. We said 'yes'.

They had a wonderful life together; every day was an adventure. Sadly they both died quite young, then along came Billy.

In between time there was Fred, our cat. I liked Freddy, he was aloof, haughty, and dismissive. He lived an independent life (as do most cats), just turning up for food when he felt like it. I miss having a cat around the place. I always liked to see Fred wandering around the garden, up in the Quince tree, or sleeping under some favourite flowers. A cat is a moving ornament that decorates one's environment, and demands very little in return.

He here is, bored stiff by what I'm doing. Having his early morning siesta.

I don't suppose we'll have any more animals. They do restrict one's freedom as we've always made sure their welfare always comes before ours; as a result our travels are somewhat limited.

A cat could probably live here by itself for a couple of weeks. These days there are wonderful inventions such as magnetic cat-flaps, daily dosage feeders, and containers that provide a good supply of water, and I'm sure that solo cats can be perfectly happy. If the automatic feeder failed to work, they could always dine on MICE. However, we would never do that, as cats like company and they would probably feel as if they'd been abandoned.

I must go; Billy is wanting a walk.

Well, fancy that!

On closer inspection of the photo I posted yesterday, I noticed in the background (top right) a small Terracotta sculpture bust of a young girl by Richard Garbe, that I'd bought back in about 1968-ish.

Garbe had been Head of Sculpture at the Royal College of Art, and about 10 years after his death his wife was clearing out his studio via an auction house in Horsham, Sussex.

I just happened, by chance, to be walking by the saleroom as the sale was taking place, and saw the sale details outside. I popped-in, and bought just one piece. I would happily have bought EVERYTHING, but I didn't have the money. All his works, tools, and equipment, were being sold-off for 'a few quid'. It was heartbreaking.

It was a nice piece of work, and I kept it for many years. Eventually when trying to reduce my collection, I sold it. I can't remember to whom, or even where. I think it was sold for about £150; I had bought it for either £9 or £10. 

When I saw the above picture it immediately reminded me of Garbe, so I looked him up on Google, and amazingly, there it was, the very first thing I saw; my old small terracotta bust. You can imagine my surprise!

As you can probably see, it fetched £984 through Roseburys at the end of last year, and is now decorating the home of some other 'connoisseur'; and I hope they enjoy it as much as I did.

Amazing the things you find on google.

As I've said many times on this page, most of my own work has been stolen at one time or other; mostly when I was a student. These days when I look at any 'Homes' related magazine, the first thing I look at are the walls; all that work must be somewhere!!!

 

Do people still hold 'parties'?

I just came across this very old photo. It dates from a time when people held pukka fancy-dress parties, this couple (above) are dressed as a gangster and his moll; complete with home-made cardboard Tommy Gun and Cigar.

In my London days, partying was BIG. A strange phenomenon of the time were the 'Surfing Parties', where Beach Boys music was de rigueur, and gaudy island shirts were everywhere. People would actually turn-up with surf boards.

I've thrown just two memorable parties here in France. The first I think must have been for my 30th birthday. Lady M wore a spectacular all white outfit including a turban, and I complimented her in an all white suit. Over the following few days, after the party was over, I kept finding bottles of wine hidden away all around the courtyard and in the huge barn. I think people must have been expecting a shortage; they were wrong.

The second was for my 50th, when we roasted a whole Lamb; I think there were over 50 guests. What a night that was!

I've given-up holding parties. I no longer have the desire or the confidence. Gone are the days when I would consume copious amounts of wine, and my appetite has considerably diminished. As for dancing until dawn; that has gone too. 

These days it's an intimate dinner for four (at the most). 

 

Holiday? What holiday!

I suppose most people would think we're on holiday; but we're not.

For us it's simply being at an alternative home. We do much the same, we eat much the same, and I do my shopping on the same days in the same old way, in the same car, at the same style of supermarket.

Here we have more outdoor space, but otherwise it's much the same. Of course we have a pool, which is nice, but it also brings a lot of extra work.

I purposefully landscaped the pool to become part of the house and garden. I can't stand pools that are built apart, away from the house, with a nasty wire fence around them. As you can see above, there is foliage everywhere; much of which falls into the pool. It's a daily task cleaning-out the skimmers, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a pleasant area to sit and read, even if one isn't swimming.

The weather, since we've returned, has been very 'on and off'. We've swum a bit, but not every day. We've had a lot of rain, and the sitting room wood-burner has seen plenty of action. The plus side has been a daily crop of mushrooms; both Girolles and a few Cepes.

However, mostly we've been coping with the results of our burglary. Cleaning, discovering what's missing, and generally tidying-away all that was strewn around the house. Burglars are not known for being tidy, or educated, individuals; and ours certainly was true to type. Lady Magnon lost some jewelry, some valuable watches, and a lot of smaller antique silver items. The TV's and Hi-Fi kit we don't really care about. I suppose one might say that it was our fault for leaving things here, but that's how we've always lived; by trusting people, as we would have them trust us.

Nothing much has changed here since last year. We have a new (and rather uninteresting) new neighbour behind us up at the barn. Our nearest restaurant seems to have new people, but is no better than last year. And my very good friend J seems to be coping well with his various ailments. 

No-one has died, got married, or been sent to prison. All is well with the world, and with any luck it'll remain that way for a while.

Had enough of politics? So have I.

Disappointed!

 

Firstly I'm disappointed with the Tory Party for getting themselves into such an unmitigated mess; all of their own making. Their losses were merited.

Secondly I'm disappointed with the public for believing Labour's promises; it's not unlike those famous Turkeys voting for Christmas! And what a Christmas it's going to be.

However, the UK still remains the world's 6th biggest economy, has a very low inflation level of 2.3%, and is currently the fastest growing economy in the G7. So, don't believe all that Labour has been telling you; Britain was doing quite well.

However, illegal immigration has been constantly increasing, and Rishi has continued to try to "Stop the Boats", whilst at the same time sending our Border Control boats to bring them in. The French just take our assistance money, and twiddle their thumbs. If Le Pen has any say, we can expect immigration figures to rise massively, and Labour will welcome them.

It's been far too easy for the Socialists to constantly vote against every serious proposal, but now they need to put their money where their mouths are, and show us how it should have been done. I suspect we might now see many of those Tory policies (that they previously rejected) being given a new pink tinge.

I for one will be extremely interested to see what happens. If they manage to achieve even a small part of their promises, without going broke (again), I shall be mightily impressed. But don't hold your breath. 

It's true that Starmer has attempted to shift the Labour Party to the right (as did Blair before him). He has expelled some of the more extreme left-wingers, and has 'attempted' to control Labour's traditional antisemitism, but let's now wait and see how this manifests itself in the real world. Corbyn is back in tow, and that says a lot.

However, I must admit that Starmer isn't all bad, and he definitely has my approval on two counts. Firstly he's a fellow confirmed atheist; and secondly he has two Jewish children, which means he cannot allow himself to be a Hamas supporter, unlike most of his other Labour Party members (and his buddy Corbyn, of course).

So, over to you, Keir; and good luck!

Election day.

Always keep ahold of Nurse, for fear of finding something worse.

A sorry sight.

It was with huge regret on our part that our newly renovated tobacco drying barn has been sold.

I had spilt blood sweat and tears working on the interior, and, without wishing to sound pompous, I did a bloody good job of it. It became a lovely eco family home, that almost anyone would have been happy to live in. It just happened that my youngest son, who owned it, had just built a fabulous home in Thailand, where he's now living (he's now building a second), and he didn't need another one in France.

It also had lots of land, a well-stocked orchard, plenty of room for a pool, veg patch, etc, and a magnificent huge ancient Oak tree. There was also plenty of extra space for a Granny Flat.

Anyway, it was sold, and the new owner doesn't seem to be interested in country life. The grass everywhere is a metre high, and not a single plant has been touched or pruned since he moved-in. 

Having tended the garden myself for several years, it is now a total mess. It won't be easy to return it to how it looked above. I can imagine the whole place becoming totally overgrown in no time (actually, it already is). He didn't even pick his wonderful Cherries; what a shame.

I really don't know, but I imagine the new owner is a townie, and has no understanding about living out in the countryside. I even wonder if he'll stay there for very long; it doesn't seem to suit him. I believe he is a single music teacher; but I have no confirmation. What he is doing, in such a big house, way out in the Styx by himself, I have no idea. Usually people who move to the country are desperate to embrace the whole lifestyle; but not this man. 

Above is how it is today. I haven't yet met the new owner, nor, it seems, have any of my other neighbours, so I'm not about to cast judgement. We've only been back a few weeks and so far he hasn't made much of an impression, other than throwing stones, and shouting at Billy. I've had to cut back the excessive growth from his side of our part-mutual entrance driveway, so I can get the car in without scratching its sides, but I shall do no more. It's HIS garden now, and he can look after it himself. 

I've said it before, but I think townies should stay in towns, and leave us country bumkins alone. 

Russian/Ukranian deaths.

 

Statistics in times of war are never reliable. When looking online for the number of Russian Soldier deaths in Ukraine, I came across all sorts of estimates; some quite low, others unbelievably high.

Probably the most reliable current figure is 508,780. This comes from an 'official' source. The figure is almost approaching Napoleon's 600,000 disastrous number of deaths in Russia in 1812. 

The number of Ukrainian Soldier deaths is given as 31,000. This sounds unreliably low!

Damage to buildings, businesses, industry, and agriculture is inestimable. Who, I wonder will rebuild?

It's a strange war. Very one-sided. I fail to understand why Moscow or St Petersburg haven't been bombed; not unlike the Falklands War where the British kindly allowed Buenos Aries to remain untouched. I wouldn't promise the Argies that that would be the case if they attacked again.

Putin and the Russian people must have very thick skins. They are losing vast amounts of men and kit. It must be costing a fortune, and Ukraine itself is being reduced to rubble, where or what is the advantage?

It's about time that the Russian people experienced what the Ukrainians are having to endure; maybe then they will understand what their 'heroic leader' is doing.

What is the purpose; other than Communist expansionism? 

Slightly pissed-off

This electrical box has been annoying me for the past 4 or 5 years.

It was attached to the back our house to provide a temporary electrical connection to a house about 200 metres away. It was to be there for a MAXIMUM of 6 months. It's been a very long six months!

The red pipe comes from our house, into the above box, then out across a public footpath; ending-up at the man's house. It is above ground and has already caused one municipal grass-mower to nearly lose his life (having mowed over the live wires). Nothing was done. The wires were mended, and left as they were previously. A quick shrug of the shoulders, and that was that.

When we returned a couple of weeks ago, the box was exactly as you see it above. The door was open, plants were growing inside, and it all looked a bit of a mess. I looked inside and saw that the spinning meter-reading disc was not moving; and hasn't moved since. I have to presume that, without having said anything, the man has since got himself a permanent connection somewhere else, and has simply abandoned the bloody box and wires behind our house.

I had a word with the Mayor; he wasn't interested. No-one seems bothered that it's still there with live wires in it. I've even been told NOT to touch it.

How long do you think I'll have to wait before anyone comes to remove it? We've just had about 100 horses and riders passing by yesterday; I was hoping they'd do the job for me, sadly they didn't!!!

My telephone/internet cable had been left lying on the ground for the past few years. They put in a new post, but forgot to attach the wires to it. I've now done it for them. That's one problem solved; now for the bloody electrical box!

I ain't holding my breath.

 

Please Play by the Rules.

 

Sir Kier Starmer (leader of UK's Socialists, and probably our next PM) seems to be guilty of hypocrisy.

Having recently talked of sending illegal immigrants back to Bangladesh, he seems to have forgotten his disgraceful involvement with a 2022 flight to Jamaica, which was sending 50 deported ex-prisoners back to their native country.

All 50 Jamaicans had served prison sentences, and all understood that they were later to be deported.

However, Sir Keir along with a rag-bag of do-gooders and minor celebs went to court and had their deportations overturned. They were then free to stay in the UK. Starmer also suggested that all the offenders received state-funded Mobile Phones to make their lives in the UK easier.

One went on to commit a second murder, along with his son (thank you Starmer). Others simply returned to their normal criminal activities of drug-dealing, burglary, etc. Sir Keir had insisted that these criminals remain in the UK, with all the consequences that that involved. No doubt he considered it their 'Human Right'.

I really don't mind who wins the upcoming election as long as they play with a straight bat, and have some consistency. We need some common sense policies when dealing with situations that involve foreign criminals, and safety on our streets. We can't have our leaders saying, one minute, that criminals should be returned to Bangladesh, but not to Jamaica. If Starmer & Co get it right, then they'll have my support, but as things are looking I don't see that happening.

If criminals have deportation attached to their prison sentence, then that's how it should be. The courts have decided; Full Stop! There should be no 'lovie' interference.

The Labour Party have constantly voted against all attempts to control illegal immigration. They really must make up their minds. This is a MAJOR issue, and I hear that the queues at Calais are growing ever bigger, awaiting Starmer's installation at No 10.

It must be said that the Tory's record on immigration has been anything but perfect, but at least they were consistent.

Man tries to rob nail salon but gets ignored.

If only all robberies were like this one!

Cricket Ball.

I keep this old Cricket Ball in my sitting room. It lives on the Coffee table in front of my sofa.

Every so often I pick it up, roll it around my fingers, and enjoy the feel of its well-worn leather. It has a wonderful feel to it.

It reminds me of just about everything that is good about England. It reminds me of my youth, of my native Surrey village, about Kimbo who still plays Cricket regularly, and it also reminds me of what we in England call 'Fair Play'.

Those who were brought-up playing Cricket possibly have a different outlook on life compared to those who weren't. It teaches patience, skill, and most importantly that 'the umpire's decision is final'. A quick comparison between a Cricket audience and a Football audience makes that quite clear.

Cricket originates from the game of Stoolball (which is still played in parts of Sussex). Stickball soon followed, then the 'stick' became broader, and Cricket was born. Stickball and Rounders later became Baseball; the first ever mention of which can be found in Jane Austin's 1818 novel 'Northanger Abbey'.

 

I was never a good Cricketer. I was a 'feared' fast bowler, but my batting skills were sorely lacking. Above shows a game at my alma mater, and even looking at the photograph brings back wonderful memories. It was always the one moment of the Trinity term when one could totally relax (if one wasn't actually playing).

I don't know when my old ball was last used in anger, but it must have been at least 30 years ago. Every so often I wax it, and give it a good shine. The ball itself weighs nearly 6 Oz, and has a beautiful, almost antique, colour; not unlike an old leather sofa at Boodles (I imagine).

It's my English version of 'worry beads'.

Veggie week.

I rather enjoy eating 'veggie', as long as it satisfies all my needs. It must be tasty, reasonably filling, and (most importantly) not leave me desperate for some meat.

Our amusingly entitled dish 'Compost Fry-up' does all of the above. I always make it with the following vegs. Aubergine, Courgette, Potato, Green Beans, and Red Pepper. The Potatoes, Courgettes, and Beans are all cooked previously, but all the rest fried 'live', with the rest added later. I fry in Garlic Butter and Olive Oil, and right at the end I add a good teaspoon of Cumin Powder and S & P. You need a BIG frying pan. I suppose this must be our favourite veggie dish.

One of my other favourites from this week is Pizza. A simple recipe that uses a shop bought roll of fresh Pizza dough, with firstly some green Pesto, then sliced Tomatoes, plenty of Mozzarella, Anchovies, Olives, and a good splash of good Olive Oil. S & P. Basic fare, but Pizza as it should be (no pineapple chunks).

We have also eaten a favourite Spaghetti dish with garlic, tomato, and Capers. And we shall finish the week with a very simple Rice and Dhal with curried Aubergine chunks.

In between there have been stuffed baked Potatoes, and stuffed red Peppers with Brandade. And so as not to feel like aliens, we have also treated ourselves to some delicious extra large Fish Fingers.

If I was ever to start a Veggie Restaurant, it would have to be called 'The Compost Café', and the only thing on the menu would be my Compost Fry-up. I just know I would be over-run with customers!!!

 

A Cottage

When I first bought this little cottage my intentions were to tidy it up, put in a rudimentary kitchen, and live totally off-grid.

Water would come from the roof to fill a large buried tank. The kitchen would have an old fashioned water pump, and a wood fired cooker (and maybe a two ring camping gas burner), and night-time light would be provided by candles and oil lamps. There would have been a luxurious outdoor compost loo.

The cottage does still have something of the rustic charm that I'd originally envisaged, but we do now have electricity, running water, and an indoor loo. The huge open fire has been replaced by a Godin wood burner.

We also have vast amounts of clutter, and since the barn has been sold, we now have twice the amount.

Regardless of our regular visits to the municipal tip, with the car over-loaded, it doesn't seem to make any difference to the amount of STUFF we have accumulated.

Anyway, I do like the little house, even with all its problems. It always has a contented feeling. The house has a wonderful atmosphere, as if happy people have always lived here.

As far as I can ascertain, the cottage was built in the early 1700's. The much loved Louis XV (1710-1774) came to the French throne aged just 5, so the very first inhabitants would have lived here not only when he was crowned King, but probably a pre-pubescent one too.

I don't know of another house in the village that commands such a perfect position. We overlook perfectly tranquil countryside, and as we're at the end of a tiny lane, we have no passers-by, other than the occasional walker. Peace personified.

Gateau Breton

Should you be travelling through France, and happen to wander into a Leclerc supermarket, look out for this 'Gateau Breton'.

It was a huge pleasure, recently, to discover that this 'speciality' is still around, and in exactly the same format as I remember it from decades ago. It is a little known pie/tart/cake with a prune filling called a Gateau Breton. Totally delicious. Perfect for a riverside picnic with either a cup of Tea, or even some Pink Champagne.

On the other hand, I have always thought that it would be the perfect cake/tart for Christmas, and not as filling as some of the more traditional fare. Maybe someone would care to import it into the UK in late December?

Whatever the occasion it's delicious. Do not deprive yourself.

 

Bees

The Chestnuts are in flower (above), and that means that the local beekeepers bring in their hives.

We have plantations all around us, but one, about 150 metres away, now has a dozen hives amongst its ancient trees. This is an annual occurrence.

I'm very Bee-friendly, but they CAN be a nuisance. The beekeepers supply no water for the Bees, and as our pool is the nearest large supply of water, they head for chez Cro by the thousand.

I try to ignore them. I'm sure they mean me no harm. In return I leave a very large dish of water for them so that they don't go thirsty (above). I even put a few wettened stones in, so they have somewhere to sit whilst drinking. I think of everything.

It must be said that Chestnut honey is not the world's most popular. It is dark in colour and tastes rather bitter and 'earthy'. I quite like it, but most don't.

However, Bees are essential for a good Chestnut harvest. No Bees, no Chestnuts.

Personally I just sit and watch the Bees; others scream and head for the hills. I recommend the former!

 

A Karchering (Stanleying) we will go!

Verb: to Karcher (see also, to Stanley). M. To sweat profusely whilst cleaning car, dog, or pool surround. To obey orders. To make a bad back even badder. 

Noun: Karcher (see also, Stanley). M. An object with many wires, pipes, etc. A tangle. An item of torture. An object to be avoided.

Yesterday was the big day. Get out the Karcher (the Stanley), and blast away all the winter detritus that was clinging to the surrounding flagstones.

Many may find this a fun and pleasant job, but with a bad back it is torture.

Anyway, it's now done and looking good, so to celebrate I threw myself into the glacial waters (20 C), I swam two lengths then headed for the kitchen and a hot cup of tea.

I'm completely Karchered.

 

Bad weather.

There are only a few things to do in periods of bad weather (we still don't have a TV); amongst which are to light fires, do crosswords, or go mushrooming.

Our current weather of warmth and showers is perfect for the growing of Girolles. It's a delicious mushroom; perfect for omelets. After the Cèpe, it must be France's favourite mushroom. 

A few minutes in the woods supplied the ones below.

The Girolle (unlike most mushrooms) needs to be washed under running water whilst cleaning and trimming, and all the remaining water first needs to be evaporated before the actual frying process can begin. Then just add a couple of beaten eggs, and we have our favourite lunch.

Hmmmm! Delicious