Our Street Parking.

 

I mentioned some time ago that our local council were wanting to introduce four resident's parking spaces into our otherwise very quiet, no-parking, street (we all have our own off-street parking). We were not happy.

Firstly every street resident received a letter from the council planning folk explaining their intentions, and asking for our thoughts on the matter. The letter explained that they always took residents opinions very seriously.

Every single person wrote back saying that we were 100% against the idea.

So, what did they do? They totally ignored us, and we now have a row of cars parked opposite our houses.

Our street is narrow (which is why there were previously no parking spaces), so the council have had to squeeze them in. The national 'official' size regulations for an on-street parking bay is 2.6 Metres by 5.00 Metres. The parking bays in our street are 1.8 Metres wide, with no separate length markings.

They are nearly a whole Metre too narrow. 

Of course, now there are always a few 'chancers' who park illegally there as well (purple van above), which often means that we have the whole length of the street littered with vans, delivery bikes, taxis, etc, where previously there was none.

What can we do about it? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

You buy a house in a nice quiet street, then along comes some petty bloody bureaucrat and changes everything.

Weaver

 

I was very sad to hear of Weaver's recent demise. We never met, but I always had a vision of her as a very special person.

I imagined that Pat's blog title was named in honour of Angus McPhee; a.k.a. The Weaver of Grass. I never thought to ask her, but I imagine that must be so.

McPhee, who came from a very poor Scottish crofting family, spent most of his life in mental hospitals where not only did he refuse to speak, but he also spent his time weaving items of clothing from grass. I believe he would hang the finished articles in the bushes surrounding the hospital. Luckily someone saved them.

I've always been fascinated by people who, suddenly out of the blue, begin to create wonderful things which are totally out of the ordinary. McPhee's clothes come into that category.

RIP the other Weaver of Grass; a.k.a. Pat Thistlethwaite.

October 7th.

I suppose this must be the most iconic photo of the October 7th attack on Israel.

Young people who'd been innocently enjoying a music festival, running for their lives as Hamas attack, mutilate, and kill them.

Rather like September 11th, October 7th will go down in history as a date one will never forget.

It was just one year ago when Jews, and other Israeli residents, suffered the worse violence since The Holocaust. Hamas terrorists murdered, raped, tortured, and took hostages. The savagery was unparalleled. 1,139 were killed, and 250 hostages taken.

The result, of course, was for the Israeli IDF to attempt to reduce the terrorist activities of Hamas in Gaza, once and for all. The work continues; as it will with Hezbollah following their year-long assault.

The 1,139 dead were not 'martyrs' (as Islam would claim for their own); they were innocent VICTIMS of barbarity. 

There are several things that are never contested concerning Israel/Gaza/Lebanon. Firstly that Israel has the right to defend itself. Secondly both Hamas and Hezbollah are terrorist organisations. Israel's IDF are NOT classified as terrorists; as their name suggests they are a Defence Force.

RIP to all who lost their lives on October 7th. We will remember you!

 

Memorial.

Not all of us are lucky enough to have a magnificent Stained Glass window dedicated to our memory.

But down in Cornwall, in the village of Mawgan-in-Pydar, there is a stunning window in the Church of St Mawgan and St Nicholas that is dedicated to two of my wife's recent ancestors. 

The window was commissioned and installed in 1906 in memory of Sampson LeWarne, and his wife Nancy LeWarne. I'm not sure what happened to them, but they died within a few days of each other in December of 1858. Was there a pandemic in 1858?

Their oldest granddaughter erected the window in their memory.

As you can see, the quality of the window painting is superb. What a shame they never got to see it themselves.

I'll be lucky if I'm awarded a tiny brass plaque, let alone a huge window.

Rain.

 

Since we returned from our Summer sojourn in France, I haven't once worn my waterproof Barbour, or my gumboots.

Yes, it has rained; but sensibly. It has lightly rained at night, in the early mornings, and occasionally in the late afternoons. Never when we actually need to go out.

However, I keep seeing news reports of torrential rain, flooding, and rivers breaking their banks. Many parts of Britain have had more than their fair share. 

Generally speaking, the south of the country will have the better weather. But I think that here on the south coast we are slightly protected by The South Downs. Often they will have inclement weather on the north side of the Downs, whilst here on the south side we may even have sunshine. 

I don't particularly dislike rain as long as I'm well protected. Umbrellas are useless here, as rain is usually accompanied by wind. The best protection are gumboots, a pukka raincoat, and a sou'wester. As long as no water can penetrate, then there is no need to worry. It's all a matter of being well prepared.

Talking of which, I really must buy myself a well-fitting, comfortable, not-too-silly-looking RAIN HAT. Then they can throw at me what they will.

Keeping warm in winter. A Party Political Broadcast by The Labour Party

Timely advice before the cold weather arrives. 

Buy your sleeping bags NOW!

Bill Wyman – Si Si Je Suis Un Rock Star

Rock bands are not known for their sense of humour, but here's Mr Wyman showing that there's an exception to every rule.

'She took off her 'at, and she had lovely 'air'.

Go for it Bill!

It was just waiting to happen!

This gentleman below is Inspector Charles Ehikioya. He was the Head of the Metropolitan's (London) Black Police Association.

He is about to be sacked (I presume) for his constant racist remarks on a WhatsApp page over a three year period. He's up before the Chief Constable for 'Gross Misconduct'. Naughty boy!

I have to say that I was very surprised when I originally heard that an 'association' had been established back in 1994, especially for black policemen and women. It always seemed to me that this was racist in itself. No such association exists for white policemen; nor should it.

We are all supposed to be equal in this country, and for The Met' itself to establish this divisive association, is appalling.

It is, of course, the perfect vehicle for racist feelings to surface. 

When Ehikioya is gone, I hope that The Met' will disband this 'blacks only' association. It should never have been allowed in the first place, and must be outlawed at once. 

We MUST have proper integration everywhere, especially in the police; but this will never happen whilst such institutions exist.

 

Funniest Sketch Ever?

Has someone stolen my idea for a 'Celebrity Bomb Disposal' TV programme?

Cepe harvest 2024.

Cepes (Boletus edulis) may not always look too wonderful, but they are probably the world's most delicious, and sought-after, mushroom.

Unfortunately slugs find them as tasty as we do, and the caps are often part eaten away (this doesn't deter the avid gastronome). Once trimmed and wiped with a damp sponge, they are perfectly good to eat.

I should add that if you were to buy Cepes at a market, or specialist store, you could pay anything up to 60 Euros a kilo; but they would probably be a lot better quality (not taste) than mine above.

On my Facebook page I keep seeing photographs of huge present harvests around my French village. I think we ate just these few (above) this year; Oh how I would love to be there now.

 

A British Oddity.

England has always been known for being a bit eccentric, especially when it comes to clothing. Many English musicians have made a name for themselves by 'dressing-up', from Boy George to Elton John they made a statement through their sense of dress. It's a trend that continues.

How many of us have not grown up with a dressing-up box at home? They were always filled with strange colourful clothes and hats.

But many may not have heard of our London Pearly Kings and Queens. The 'Pearlies' (as they are commonly known) wear suits decorated with Mother of Pearl buttons. They are usually members of 'Pearly Societies' that represent different boroughs of London. The decoration on their clothing is mostly traditional, showing Bells, the flag of St George, Horses, etc. These days they use their decorative status for charity work.

I believe the whole Pearly business was started by a Mr Henry Croft in around 1870. Croft decorated his clothes to attract donors to his charity work.

If there was a world-wide rating for countries who like to dress-up the most, I think England might come in at Number 1. From the regalia surrounding The Royal Family, to our regimental uniforms, we never hold back. Even our Morris dancers go overboard to outdo each other. We still have 'Heralds' (think Alice in wonderland), we have parliamentary officials who dress in outdated uniforms, and we have town criers who love to dress-up to announce events.

England would be a very different, and less interesting, place if all these outfits disappeared. So, long live our eccentric ways, and may they never die-out.

Not so Lively

I've previously only read one other novel by Penelope Lively, and loved it. I had asked Lady M to buy a few Agatha Christie paperbacks from Oxfam, but she came back with this. Moon Tiger.

I do enjoy Lively's style of writing. It's a cross between stream of consciousness and the clipped, dark, descriptive writing of Dylan Thomas. Intelligent and provocative.

The narrative in this one is a bit slow. It follows the lives of a woman, her mother, her brother, and various family friends and relations. I would have preferred a more interesting story-line, however, the writing is so meticulous that I still enjoyed reading it.

The book discusses the inevitability of life and death; the past and the future. I finished it feeling slightly depressed.

Next book; Agatha Christie. Poirot is on the case at Pollensa Bay, and elsewhere, in a book of short stories. A very different kettle of fish! Of the six or so short stories, I only found three to be worthy of her reputation.

 

Bargains!

 

When I go to Sainsbury's for my big shopping trip of the week (yesterday), I tend to be given several vouchers with my lengthy printed receipt.

Recently I've been having £10.50 off any bill above £70.

I've also had 245 Nectar points with a litre of Olive oil.

70 Nectar points with a pack of Tenderstem Broccoli spears.

and 100 Nectar points with a pack of Chorizo cooking Sausages; to name just a few.

I noticed yesterday that I saved over £22 on my shopping bill, and I already have over £24 on my Nectar card, which I shall keep to buy the December Turkey.

I do know that I'm being 'tempted' by all these special offers, but I would never buy anything I didn't want. I do have plenty of Olive oil in the house, but the bottle I bought yesterday will simply go into the cupboard until required.

Yesterday I spent nearly £100 on my big shopping trip, and to get £22 off is extremely welcome. I bought a lot of wine, a leg of lamb, and some salmon for the freezer, amongst other things.

My equivalent shopping in France at Leclerc, gives me almost nothing on my loyalty card; just a few miserable Euros after a whole year.

Couscous

I know I do go on about Couscous from time to time, but I am an evangelical fan!  

I love all the stages of making Couscous. I love preparing the meat and vegs (below) for the Tagine, I enjoy the cooking process, and of course I enjoy eating the result. The preparation of the couscous itself is simply a matter of introducing the grains of couscous to some boiling water.

Ingredients for Tagine: Cheap cuts of either Lamb or Chicken, Chunky cut Aubergine, Courgette, Potato, Peppers, some chopped Preserved Lemon, a small tin of Chickpeas, Cumin powder, Ras al Hanout, a squirt of Harissa, garlic, and S & P. This is slow cooked in the morning for about an hour, then re-heated when required. I made enough (above) for two days. Serve with the heated Couscous. 

To prepare Couscous (for the uninitiated): Pour grains into a glass bowl, then only just cover with boiling water. After a couple of minutes begin to separate the grains with a fork, continue every few minutes until you have a bowl of individual swelled grains. Put aside.

Personally I add a tiny splash of olive oil, some dried mint, cumin seeds, some turmeric (I like the colour), and salt to the Couscous, before giving one further mix and popping into the microwave for 1.5 mins. Your Couscous it now ready; it should be light and fluffy.

We eat Couscous at least once a week, and I never tire of it. Once one is used to the process it becomes a really simple dish to prepare. This one (above) which was leftovers from the previous day, was accompanied by some merguez sausages which I recently bought in Dieppe. We ate it last night.

People often say to me that it all looks so complicated, but it isn't at all. And for those who've never eaten Couscous, I say DO SO IMMEDIATELY.

 

Fayed

 

The revelations and accusations concerning Mohamed Fayed come as no surprise. Over 200 women have now come forward with accusations of rape or sexual assault.

He was well known for being one of the most scheming and underhand people of his era. He wheedled his way into the highest echelons of British society, whilst behaving like a monster behind closed doors.

He also managed to introduce his son, Dodi, to Diana Spencer (the ex-Princess of Wales), and encouraged their affair. She was no stranger to affairs, but Fayed made sure that everyone knew of his son's involvement this time round; for obvious reasons. As we all know, it ended badly, but Fayed had already successfully managed to infiltrate the royal family. He also claimed that Ms Spencer had been pregnant at the time of her death. It was said that Fayed very much hoped that Ms Spencer would marry his son, a Muslim, as a poke in the eye for GB.

Fayed was 'dodgy' from the beginning. His wealth came from dubious business deals, and he used his connections to pressurise. 

He seemed to think that he could act with impunity, which I suppose he did. But life always catches-up with you, even in death,

Personally I think it's a shame that Fayed's victims didn't come forward while he was still alive. A spell at Her/His Majesty's pleasure would have been extremely well deserved; it might have knocked some of that bloody arrogance out of him too.

The ups and downs.

Life is never easy for politicians, even after a 'landslide victory' coming from a general election.

This survey, by a Co called 'Opinium', shows the popularity of our politicians after nearly 100 days since a new Socialist government was installed at No 10.

As you can see, Sir Freebie 'Sausage' Starmer has less approval than Farage, and more disapproval than Sunak.

Farage appears to be the most popular (which I find strange), and with Sir 'Jet-ski' Davey having the least disapproval.

I don't think I've ever known a new PM's popularity dropping so quickly (other than Liz Truss). But if you clobber old age pensioners, and hand out big money to paymaster Rail Union members (whilst accepting freebies left right and centre), what else could you expect.

On the 'Alternative Political Front', I see that the RHT boss, Mick 'the grinch' Lynch, is threatening to take control of the UK economy. He wants the economy to be controlled by the Unions, with powers to close down any industry that refuses to meet their demands. The last time a Union leader tried that was by Scargill, when he successfully closed down the whole of the UK's Coal Mining industry.

N.B. Mick 'the grinch' Lynch's Union (the RHT) controls Railways, Shipping, and all other Transport. If he really wanted to, he could easily do another Scargill.

I despair, yet again!

 

51 years ago.

I think it was during the Easter school holidays in 1973; I was 25 years old, and was on holiday in S W France. I lived on the N Wales/Shropshire border at the time, but was teaching down in Sussex. 

We just happened to look in an Estate Agent's window, and saw a property advertised that grabbed my attention. The agent said he'd take us to look at it, and we drove quite some distance south to a tiny village in what looked like a perfect setting.

We pulled-up outside the gates (below), and I could immediately see that the property was not only extensive, but also very beautiful. It had a huge range of stone barns and outbuildings, and also came with one hectare of land and a very productive Chestnut wood.

"I'll have it" I said almost at once. It simply had that look about it that was difficult to say no.

The UK was still not yet in The Common Market at that time, and buying foreign property was filled with pitfalls. We had to pay a 10% deposit, and had six months to find the rest of the money (or lose the deposit). I had to return to Blighty, put my house on the market, and deal with all the seemingly endless administration (including a medical examination in Harley Street). It was a crazy six months. We actually arrived at the French lawyer's office with just one day to spare. 

I had driven down with all our furniture in the back of a hired van. When we arrived at the house, the wife of the vendor family was there to greet us (the house hadn't been lived in for a few years, and she'd ben doing some basic cleaning). She went to the barn, brought out a bale of hay, and placed it in the huge fireplace. When I saw her lighting it, I imagined the whole house burning to the ground. Luckily it didn't.

I cannot remember how or when we had the water and electricity connected.

That day was in September 1973, exactly 51 years ago.

In those carefree days, I took everything in my stride. The administration was endless, the financial side was a nightmare, and my French at that time was 'schoolboy rudimentary'. I certainly wouldn't do it today, even though the process is far more simple.

I must have been friggin' crazy.

 

It's 'Conkers' season.

At Prep' School, I was a big Conkers fan and player. At this time of year I was seldom without a few Conkers, some string, and a skewer in my pocket; the three essentials for any Conker aficionado.

We had all sort of scams for hardening Conkers. Some steeped them in Vinegar, others 'laid them down' for 12 months, some cooked them in ovens. I, on the other hand, had a much better idea.

Father had an old thick plank of Mahogany in his shed. I sawed about an inch and a half off one end, and cut it into small squares. These I whittled into Conker shaped spheres, and painted them to look indistinguishable from the real thing. Once a hole was drilled through the middle, I was in business.  

I can't actually recall using them in anger, I was probably too ashamed, but I'm sure I showed them around. Anyway, the idea was good, and I would have become a supreme champion; until found-out!

I doubt if school children are allowed to play Conkers these days; the elf-n-safety, woke, dungaree wearing lovies wouldn't allow it. The little darlings might hurt themselves.

 

Life's essentials.

 

What do I really want out of life?

Well, really not that much. I'm not someone who wants fast cars, a huge house, or designer clothes. I'm quite content with the simpler things of life.

I do like to live in a pleasantly comfortable home in nice surroundings (below), but that doesn't have to be situated in some highly sought-after area, or even be wildly expensive. It is simply a question of 'choice'.

I like to eat well, to have access to both either open countryside or the sea, and to be within a reasonable distance of good quality shops. 

I am also very selective about my friends. I don't have that many, but the ones I do have are all very special. I have many more 'acquaintances' that I chat with on a daily basis, but they remain in a slightly different category. 

I've never fussed about having lots of money. As long as I remain solvent, I'm happy. There really is nothing on any wish-list that I'm desperate to obtain. If I was suddenly to become wealthy, I really don't know what I'd spend it on (other than a mews house in S Ken).

I like to have my cupboards, fridge, and freezer well stocked. And I like to have a good stock of simple red wines at hand.

Concerning things I can't control, I would like our country to be run by people I respect, who in turn respected us. I would like to see the back of all those people who denigrate the UK. And I would like all 'squiggle-merchants' to be locked-up.

I don't ask for much, but I would like some new legs and hips. I know I have to accept what I have, and I shouldn't complain.

Nothing on my life-essentials list is beyond the scope of most people. I'm a simple country lad at heart. Experiencing the peace and quiet of the countryside is possibly my greatest pleasure; and it's free. 

I've never really understood people who always want more and more, personally I'm perfectly happy with 'ENOUGH'.

Stanley Unwin

When I was a wee lad, I had three absolute favourite comedians. Bernard Breslaw, Tommy Cooper, and this man, below, Stanley Unwin.

More silliness.

Never would I have imagined that our new Labour government could have behaved so childishly.

First we had the great Sir Keir himself removing the portrait of Lady Thatcher from his study, and now we have the fragrant OAP basher Rachel Reeves, removing all art-work depicting MEN from the State Room at No 11 Downing Street.

Wasn't there some trendy woke lefty law against such sexism?

Perhaps our ex Director of Public Prosecutions, the great Sir Kier himself, would know the exact wording of the law. It was under his Directorship that the discrimination law was established (Equality Act 2010), Starmer was Director of Public Prosecutions from 2008 to 2013.

Crime in the UK.

 

The crime rate in the UK is on the decline. Crime peaked in 1994, and has been steadily falling ever since.

At the same time, certain 'crimes' are no longer investigated, and therefore presumably aren't in the equation. Small cases of theft are seldom reported, and shoplifting has almost become legalised. People know that they don't stand a chance of criminals being caught, and simply accept the fact.

But regardless of the above, it does seem to the average 'man in the street' that crime is on the increase. Maybe it is 'lawlessness' that's on the increase, but with people seemingly dressed ready to commit crime on every street corner (hoodies, masks, etc), it isn't surprising that people are taking more security measures than ever.

Criminals seem more brazen; they charge into shops firing shotguns, and cause chaos and mayhem before stealing whatever they want. Teenage shoplifters often work in large gangs and simply rush into shops and steal en masse, escaping in all directions with their arms full. Burglars knock on doors and if there's no reply they just kick the door in, and steal at leisure. There also seem to be more weapons used in crime than ever before; and that's not including knives. In a recent survey, people said they feared crime now more than they ever had in the past.

It is a very sad fact that many foreign criminals move to the UK because they can ply their trade with more ease; foreign pickpocket-gangs exploits are legendary. Even when caught they risk very little punishment. On a less serious note, Romanian begging gangs are everywhere.

OK, the number of reported crimes may have halved since 1994, but it certainly doesn't feel like it.

Over the Pond.

 

Just as we don't expect the USA to comment on UK politics, we in turn shouldn't really talk too much about their politics, or politicians.

HOWEVER, their current electioneering is more like pantomime than serious debate, with accusations of dog/cat eating immigrants grabbing the headlines.

I know very little of Ms Harris other than she claims to be black. She must be one of the whitest black people on earth. Most of her policies sound sensible, and I understand that she's a gun owner.

As for the unpredictable Mr Trump, his huge ever-expanding ego has still not been clipped, and he goes from one blunder to the next. I enjoy listening to him just for the comic entertainment value. He apparently has the support of Elon Musk, but I don't know if that's a good, or bad, thing!

So, who will win? I have no idea, and wouldn't be surprised by any outcome.

I shall be pleased when it's all over; as I suspect will most Americans.

Chestnut season.

We are not in France, but if we were this (below) is what would be filling our pockets.

It's Chestnut Harvest time, and we always ate a dozen or so annually. I don't really know why we didn't eat more, but we didn't.

My favourite way of preparing them was to make a small cut in the pointed end, and boil for about 20 mins. Then, when peeled, a tiny sprinkling of salt completed the job. Delicious. 

We shall, of course, be having some with the Turkey on Dec 25th, but they will probably come ready prepared in a vacuum pack! Not the same is it.

 

Kibbutz

 

Other than Biblical references, I think my first real awareness of Israel was in the late 1950's, hearing of young people from the UK and US heading for the country to work on the kibbutzim. I remember them going to give their time and effort for a few weeks or even months; many during school or university holidays. They were unpaid, but were fed, housed, and extremely appreciated. 

Kibbutzim have been much in the news since October 7th. They are collective farms unique to Israel. They date from the 1920's, and I believe there are about 270 around the country, containing around 126,000 volunteer workers.

All are run on grounds of equality, and all work is shared. There is no distinction between men or women, old or young, Jewish or gentile, black or white. A Kibbutz is the epitome of mutual co-operation. 

When you look at aerial photographs comparing the borders between Israel and Gaza or The West Bank, you immediately see the difference in methods of agriculture. In Israel it is well organised and efficient; elsewhere it is rather haphazard. I think this has a lot to do with the example shown by workers on the Kibbutzim.  

Do neighbouring Arabic countries have anything similar? I don't think so. Some people are naturally enterprising; others are not. 

100 days.

Yes, my friends; it's just 100 days until Christmas.

Normally I would ban any mention of Christmas, or any marketing of Christmas products, until about December 15th, but when I saw these (below), I couldn't resist.

I'm a sucker for Pork Pies, Mince Pies, and Crumpets, all good British specialties. It's not really Crumpet weather yet, but I do have a pack of 6 in the cupboard.

Mince Pies, however, are another matter; they can be enjoyed at any time of year, and in any weather. I don't even think they should be associated with Christmas. I note that the box is not specifically Christmassy; which was very wise of Sainsbury's.

We shall be having one of these each this afternoon, in the hot sunshine.

 

I am Aghast.

 

I am SHOCKED!

I recently heard that A THIRD of all food grown in, and imported into, the UK ends up in landfill. This is an absolute scandal.

What I cannot understand is what people are doing with their food! I do remember being totally shocked, a few years ago, hearing that people threw away the remains of the Christmas Day Turkey. Are people totally bonkers?

I would be surprised if even ½% of my fruit, vegs, and meat, is thrown away. I try to use everything. These days I even use the outer leaves of a Cauliflower; sliced very finely they make a very good addition to a potage.

This frightening revelation about wastage is the perfect reason to re-introduce pukka 'Domestic Science' in our schools. As far as I'm concerned it is far more useful to know how to make a good nourishing and tasty soup, than it is to know what an Oxbow Lake is.

I don't really know what school children do all day on their phones (other than looking at rude photos of Sally Cartwright of the Lower IVth), but whatever they do, it cannot be more important than learning about food, and how NOT to waste it. 

Bring back Jamie Oliver!

LAUREL & HARDY - The Crumbling Car

Of all the pioneer comedy film actors, my favourite has to be these two.

This makes me laugh every time I see it.

Chancellor for a Day.

 

The fragrant Rachel Reeves has kindly offered me the post of Chancellor for one day. Here are my proposed policies.

1. Increase OAP Winter Fuel Payments to the same level as Ms Reeves herself claimed for heating her second home, i.e. £740 pa.

2. Reduce Train drivers salaries to just £60,000 pa.

3. Sack most non-essential NHS managers.

4. Build more prisons.

5. Reduce tax on Beer, Wine, and Pork Pies. Increase tax on Cigarettes, Tobacco, and Rucksacks.

6. Reduce house rates by 50%.

7. Reduce High Street business rates by 50%.

8. Introduce Road Tax for Caravans, and trailers over 10ft long, and tax private cars according to horse power, and/or cubic capacity. Under 1500cc free; over 1500cc, £500 pa and rising.

9. All under-18's will be fined £1 per minute for any mobile phone usage over one hour per day.

10. Introduce a bonus scheme for all OAP's who don't eat/drink in the street, and who don't drop litter (maybe £100 per week).

There, you see; it's all quite simple. I guarantee my budget would be far more popular than Ms Reeves'.

Celebrities Doing Nothing.

I get really peed-off seeing TV programme after TV programme advertised about 'Celebs' competing in silly quizzes, being in the jungle, racing around the world, dancing, cooking, or being invited onto panels to give their opinion about things they probably know nothing about.

I even recently noticed that Celebs had infiltrated 'Escape to the Country'; a country property finding programme.

Most of the Celebs are unknown to me, but even if they were I really don't want to witness all this back-slapping, jobs for the boys, cash-distribution, tomfoolery.

So, may I suggest an innovative programme entitled 'Celebs Doing Absolutely Nothing'. They would stay locked-in at home, with no cameras around, and simply remain silent. If the programme was aired on TV, a still photo of a waterfall or some daffodils would suffice. The important thing would be NOT to see the Celebs, or hear what they have to say. Silence would certainly be golden. Maybe the one who could remain silent and invisible the longest would win a six month stay on some isolated and uninhabited Scottish island.

If they became bored and demanded to be released (presuming they could no longer stand not being in the limelight) they would be allowed to enter my 'Celebrity Bomb Disposal' programme (yet to be adopted by a TV Co). The only Celeb programme really worth watching!

A Day in the Life of Cro.

 

We needed a different sitting room coffee table.

Our existing table was a 1940's Lloyd Loom monstrosity that Lady M thought was stylish, but I simply thought ugly and impractical.

Here in Brighton & Hove we have a wonderful Hospice called The Martlets (Martlets, or Swifts, are the symbol of Sussex). The hospice is a highly regarded and treasured local institution, and everyone supports them as much as possible.

So, looking for a new (second hand) coffee table my first thought was to visit The Martlets Charity Shop, which just happens to be en route to my out-of-town supermarket; Lady M accompanied me.

It was my first visit to their shop, and after a good look around I finally came across a table which was exactly what we were looking for. Plain, simple, and made from knotty Pine.

The price tag said £35, so I wasn't arguing. A new one would have cost well over £100.

It may not be the most elegant or stylish table, but it does what's asked of it (other than having a lower shelf), and has even already had seal of approval.

The Turkish rug beneath it came back with us from France recently. It's one of those things we really didn't want to have stolen!

Oh dear.

 

Oh dear. Again I don't want to be too critical of Labour because I'm quite 'middle of the road' when it comes to politics, but we've only just returned to our New Socialist Republic, and the first thing I read (and saw on PMQ's) was that the UK is withholding certain armament export licenses to Israel.

The UK has always rightly been a staunch supporter of democratic Israel, and the world has always known that if you mess with Israel, you mess with Britain. Now it seems, not so!  I can't imagine that the US will be too happy with new boy Starmer over his decisions.

The Socialists have now re-joined the Hamas-lovies, and are weakening their ties with Israel. On the very day when six hostages were found brutally murdered by Hamas (Corbyn's friends), they returned to the bad-old-days of Labour Party antisemitism. What message does this give to Hamas, and the international world of terrorism? 

Starmer previously spoke quite vehemently about sweeping away the traditional anti-Jewish sentiment that his party was known for, and we all supported him, but now that he's our new PM, it looks as if he's given-in to pressure.

Personally I believe that you're either pro Israel's right to exist, and you support them 100%, or you don't. You can't sit on the fence.

So, now that the poor UK pensioners have been clobbered, and the wealthy railway Union members given massive pay rises, what we all need to ask is WHEN are those Socialist good times going to start rolling? As the fragrant Ms Rayner wrote during the 2017 election 'Labour will maintain the winter fuel payment and bus passes for pensioners'. Well, of course you will. Are bus passes the next to go?

Rumours are already circulating that there will be a new 'Mansion Tax' (a 'mansion' being any nice home in southern England) where someone having worked hard enough to buy a home worth around £3 Million would pay an extra £10,000 p.a. Inheritance Tax will probably also rise, hitting those same hard-working savers. Petrol Tax is bound to rise, as is tax on Junk-Food. I've even heard that they will be taxing GLASS BOTTLES.  

And let us not forget all those criminals who have now been let loose onto our streets. What could possibly go wrong??? Who voted for all this shit?

Possibly most importantly and worrying for the UK in general, they intend to create a 100% politicised, and age-limited, Upper House (The House of Lords). No longer will random politically-unaffiliated peers from the shires take their rightful seats (and vote however they see best), now they will be elected by whatever political party is in power, and will take the party whip. A very sad day for democracy. If they really did want to make sensible changes to The Lords, they should get rid of all those bloody Bishops.

Oh dear...... 4 more years of Socialism. 

Festival of Slowth - 2024 - Wales

Whilst down here in Sussex, 'The Festival of Speed' was taking place at Goodwood, up in Wales 'The Festival of Slowth' was in full swing.

I've always rather fancied owning some simple old sporty 'banger', but I'm afraid that my mechanical knowledge is zero. I leave it to others.

The cost of Motoring

I have never previously calculated the annual cost of my car ownership. 

On returning to the UK recently, all my annual payments for The Compact Royce (Debi) arrived either by post or by Email. They have now all been paid.

Road Tax: £190

Insurance: £631.05

Annual Service and MOT: £255

Total: £1,076.05 (To which I should add another £230 for my recent pothole damage)

I hadn't realised that it cost so much. Add to that the cost of petrol, and any incidental repairs, and it becomes quite an expensive pleasure.

As long as I can afford it, I don't really mind; I would hate to be without my car.

In absentia

Typical; as soon as we get back to Brighton, Kimbo, Susie, and Suave-Harve swan off to Venice. 

We have cyber-spoken, and they have sent photos of their 'fine-dining', but it's not like seeing them again in person. They'll be back quite soon.

They could have waited a while, and maybe even taken us with them!

They haven't missed much here, it's been raining most of the time.

 

Re-Stocking.

I love getting back to Blighty just as much as I love going out to France.

My first big task this week was to go shopping, to re-stock the house with essentials and not-such-essentials. The kitchen cupboards were totally EMPTY.

I did bring back a lot of things from France. Tins of Paté, Confit, certain types of Pasta, canned Fish, etc, which are mostly unavailable here, but things such as butter, meat, eggs, vegetables, and fruit, all have to be re-stocked. Small treats also have to be bought; Black Pudding, Bacon, Haggis, etc. As you might see, my kitchen cupboard is now groaning (above). I shall soon now have to start on the freezer.

We still eat soup every day for lunch, so all my favourite ingredients needed to be bought; Potatoes, Leeks, Cauli, Pak choi, etc. I also always keep an Aubergine and a few Courgettes handy.

As I was going around my local BIG Sainsbury's, I suddenly realised what a 'creature of habit' I am. I literally went from shelf to shelf in exactly the same way as I always do. Nothing varied at all.

I shall buy some Lamb for the weekend, and make a Greek-style Kleftiko. We're already back into the regular swing of things.

p.s. I'm now seeing all the things I missed, so I will need to return this morning. After that we should be OK for the coming week.

Oh my god; just look at that!

 

Having been involved in the world of Art & Design for most of my life, I have come across all sorts of people who design anything from children's clothes, huge Dubai hotels, and even fireplaces. Some of them were far better than others. 

I suppose that most of us who've been through the Art College system were 'indoctrinated' into believing that The Bauhaus was the epitome of good 20th century design. Well, not only do I disagree, but I also think they paved the way to more cheap and shoddy design than they could ever have imagined.

To make any utilitarian object by using a minimum of material, and then make it space-saving, by making it 'stack', is to me the opposite of good design. I want my design to be beautiful and practical, not made from old scaffolding poles, and specifically designed to take-up as little space as possible in the corner of a room. Of course I don't entirely blame The Bauhaus for all such design, but they certainly led the way.

Recently whilst staying at our 'staging post' hotel in Orléans, I noticed this absolutely dreadful piece of 'furniture' (above), and was outraged that anyone had thought it good enough to sell,  buy, or offer to clients of the hotel to use. I suppose it epitomises exactly my attitude towards post-Bauhaus design work. It is cheaply made with no attempt whatsoever at 'beauty', and in my opinion is probably the UGLIEST thing I've seen for decades. I didn't study it too closely, but I wouldn't be surprised if it 'stacked' as well.

And if all that wasn't bad enough, they go and paint in PINK.

If there was a prize for 'The Worst Design of the 21st Century', I think this would win hands down!

Charlie Drake - My Boomerang Won't Come Back - 1962

Who needs Taylor Swift or Oasis, when you can have Charlie Drake!

This record stayed in the Top 20 in the UK for 11 weeks in 1962; it even reached No 3 in Canada.

I also see it was produced by George Martin, more often associated with producing The Beatles. 

Do you remember it? I can hardly believe that we used to enjoy such things!

Back 'home'.

 

So, here we are, back in Brighton after a very tiring but reasonably uneventful trip. Billy is as pleased to be back 'home' as we are. I think the trip must be more arduous for him than it is for us, but at least he can sleep for most of the time. He has already met-up with several old chums in the park; as have we. How lovely to be greeted warmly again wherever we go.

Both Lady M and I will now relax for a few days. We've both been suffering from the usual old-age aches and pains, and it'll be good to allow our bodies to revive; we had far too much to do before leaving France, and were both exhausted; even before the journey. Kimbo and Susie are away in Italy for a while!

With my mobility problems I shan't be doing too much, but I shall still be driving to the shops, village pubs, and maybe to sit by the sea. I shan't be doing much walking around town for a while.

We drove into central Brighton at around 9.45 pm yesterday, and the whole place was BUZZING with activity. Loads of young people everywhere, all enjoying a reasonably warm and dry evening. What a difference to where we live in France, where our nearby 'Bastide Town' is dead by about 8.30 pm.

So, I shall be off to my favourite 'out of town' supermarket tomorrow, to buy lots of vegetables, fruit, a pork pie, and a BIG JOINT OF BEEF. I have a real craving for Beef at the moment; I haven't had any for ages. 

I must admit; it's very good (particularly this year) to be back home.

Departure

It's that time of year again. Time to pack our bags and return to Blighty.

The three months seem to have flown by. Unfortunately I haven't been able to do as much as I'd wanted on account of some developing health issues, but it's still been a wonderful break. I'm now left wondering if I'll ever return? If my mobility becomes worse, and I lose my ability to drive, I shall have to remain in Brighton whilst the others head south without me.

I shan't really mind. I've had over 50 years in France and they have all been filled with wonderful memories.

So, time now to return to a simpler life in England. To pints of bitter at my local, to shopping at Sainsbury's and Waitrose, to Pork Pies, a Chinese takeaway maybe, to the friendliness of our neighbours and acquaintances, and of course to family.

It's a strange feeling, having lived in a foreign country for so long, spoken their language, and adopted their ways, to return to the home of my birth once and for all. To know that never again will I stop to chat with my oldest friends here; José and Jean-Claude. Nor to head off to the woods each morning to gather wild mushrooms. Or even take the road each week to the supermarket where I've shopped once a week for decades. Of course none of this is certain, but I'm not over optimistic.

Ours is a pretty little house, built from stone and topped with ancient clay 'Roman' tiles; I shall miss it terribly. We've added to the original one derelict room quite extensively; keeping the local artisans, and myself, busy over the years. I'm very proud to say that I've rescued a 300 year old house from certain ruin, and created a comfortable and charming home. Had it been bought by a Frenchman, it would either have been demolished, or made into a 'modern featureless bungalow'. They still rarely see the beauty in ancient stones.

Other than the bare-bones of the single room cottage, there had been just one very old Pear tree, leaning perilously towards the house, that had to come down. Everything growing there now was planted by us!

So, goodbye little house. Goodbye pool. And goodbye to the little tower built by Lady M and myself. I've loved every minute of my life here (other than welcoming a few unpleasant new neighbours), and I genuinely hope that I've made some lasting contribution to our tiny community.

This is not a definitive 'adieu' to my little cottage (or to France), because medical science might suddenly find a miracle cure for my ailing back, hips, knee, and legs, but I'm not holding my breath.

On verra bien!  

The car is packed, and I shall be on the road for a couple of days, so I won't be able to reply to comments. See you again soon!

Hoodies and Masks.

Do YOU feel obliged to cover your face every time you go outside? No, nor do I; but many do!

The simple question must be, why do so many young people, usually (but not exclusively) males from ethnic minority groups, seem to find this face-covering essential even at the height of summer? I think we all probably know the answer!

Back in the UK I often come across gangs of young men in the churchyard or in the twitten behind my garage, smoking a bit of dope, drinking from cans of beer, and always all wearing black hoodies, and/or masks. Personally I'm not intimidated by them; no-one who's played Rugby against Croydon RC would find them intimidating. Billy and I just say hello, and walk past.

But, of course, many ARE intimidated; especially lone young women. And I often find myself warning them that such a group are 'just around the corner', and suggest that they might prefer to take a slightly different route to avoid any hassle.

I really do think it's about time that the government took some action about such people, they do appear very threatening to many. For a start they could BAN the wearing of face masks and balaclavas in public. If they wish to wear them at home, OK; but not in public. I'm not sure how they could ban hoodies, but there must be an answer.

Ireland is proposing such a ban, so why not the UK?

They should also bring in some new form of 'National Service' for all those nearly ONE MILLION 16 to 24 year old's who are neither in full-time education or work, and are living 'on the dole'. It should be made to be interesting, fun, informative, and hopefully also teach them a trade. Shaved heads, stylish uniforms, and no hoodies would be mandatory. They should be able to leave after a year or so with pride at having been through such an experience; and with a ruminative trade under their belts. Maybe they could even be taught how to fill potholes; that would be a good start!

Rishi Sunak promised a scheme, and Sir Keir Starmer is currently being encouraged. We now just have to wait and see.

I think the events of the recent months suggest that such discipline and training for young men is desperately needed. I can't see anything against the idea.

 

Where to Retire?

When my people retired, they decided to leave their lovely thatched Sussex home, and move up to Shropshire, where my mother had family.

I loved their Sussex home in the beautiful village of West Chiltington, but they'd made their decision, and that was that. Father was from Sussex; mother from Shropshire. Mother won!

This (above) is where they moved. A Victorian house in a small village, not too far from Shrewsbury. It was about twice the size that it appears to be in the photo, with a coach house, other buildings, a greenhouse, a fabulous ancient 44 tree orchard, and good-sized gardens. The village had a pub', a church, a shop, and a garage. The nearest good shopping town of Ellesmere was about 4 miles away.

Mother became ill almost as soon as they'd moved, and I was summoned to help-out. I ended-up spending about four years looking after them. Sadly mother soon died, and I was left looking after father who was by that time a wheelchair-bound double amputee. For someone with no experience of such things, I found it all quite 'challenging'.

However, I quite enjoyed village life, and soon took over the running of the Youth Club, as well as re-introducing the annual village Horticultural Show. I also managed to raise enough 'charity' money to send 8 members of the Youth Club on an adventure holiday to the Bavarian Alps in Germany, which was a huge success. I did my bit. 

It wasn't long before father also died, and I moved back to Sussex in 1985. My new home in Brighton could not have been more different. Newhaven, and the ferry to France, was just 20 minutes away, and we soon re-established our two location life. In France 100% bucolic, and in Brighton 100% urban.

These days we live that same two location life. Since Brexit our French stay is limited by Brussels, but the pleasure is still much the same. Brighton makes a great contrast to the peace and quiet of the French countryside, and offers just about everything one could ever imagine, or hope for.

I do still wonder if my people made the right decision about moving to Shropshire. Their home in Sussex was really lovely, and in many ways was the perfect retirement home; all that hassle of moving could have been avoided. It might even have prolonged their lives a bit.

Even so, Shropshire was very beautiful.