Former lovers Meet for first time in over 20 years.

During my days living in London, I was a member of the Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) when it was still in Dover Street (where it was an artists club), and before it moved to Pall Mall (where it became simply a huge gallery).

I was a member in the days of 'Happenings'; conceptual art-works that lasted for a short while only. I attended a lot of these events, including one where I cut most of Yoko Ono's clothes off in Red Lion Square. I think it was called 'Cut Piece'.

You may well have seen this event (above) before, which is nothing to do with the ICA, but it reminds me of those eventful days, and is very emotional.

After the ICA moved to Pall Mall the monthly member's magazine (below) was discontinued, and everything changed. I still have most of my old 'The ICA Bulletin' magazines, in France.

The ICA was a wonderful club, and I regretted its evolution. There had been a bar in Dover Street where you really never knew who you might meet. It was extraordinary. There was also a 'Library' where members showed work; including me on one occasion.

Enjoy the video!

I'm Like A Bird

Little Miss Blue Hair does a great job with this Nelly Furtado song. In the original, the 'singing' of the opening few lines is very annoying; this is a vast improvement.

It's a beautiful, emotional, song; a good strong tune, but with rather sad lyrics.

The band 'IMY2' are based in Nashville USA, and the excellent blue-haired singer is Annalise Mahanes.

If this doesn't send shivers down your spine, I don't know what would!

They grow-up so quickly.

This young man is now 18 (Happy Birthday Ollie). He happens to be one of my six grandsons.

Here he is, pretending to be a gourmet, but I'm not sure if the Spaghetti is going in or coming out. Anyway; he was obviously enjoying himself.

Needless to say, he is now a strapping young man, who probably eats his Spaghetti with more alure and finesse than in the photo.

His Papa has taken him off to Rome for a birthday prezzie weekend. More Spaghetti no doubt, and hopefully a better pair of shades!

Divertiti!

 

High Speed Artist (1966)

When I lived in London back in the second half of the 60's, I met lots of very interesting people. One of the most extraordinary was this man below, Lionel Burleigh.

I was at the opening night of an uninspiring exhibition on Cork Street in about '65, when a man sidled up to me and said "Just say I'm your Uncle". We went round the show together then visited a nearby Pub' for a few pints.

Lionel hardly stopped talking, and gave me an exhausting potted history of his life. 

We stayed in touch, and he visited me at my antique shop in Chelsea on several occasions. Eventually he asked me if he could use my premises for a 'Painting Marathon'; he wanted to paint, and sell, as many pictures as possible in one day! I stupidly said 'yes'.

Lionel produced about 100 small paintings, and sold maybe two; for a few shillings. At the end of the day he gave me a handful, but they were such rubbish that I binned them.

We continued to meet for a while after that, then he disappeared and presumably found someone else to abide his eccentricities (or maybe he died).

I'm pleased that I knew him, and that we became good friends; such folk make life interesting. 

I have just looked-up Lionel online, and found this (below). I was interested to see if it mentioned his marathon at my premises; but it didn't. (I wouldn't bother looking at it, unless you have masochistic tendencies). He was a dreadful painter.

Lionel Burleigh's artwork (partially found paintings of British "high-speed artist"; 1940s-1966) - The Lost Media Wiki

Ewan McTeagle, the Scottish Poet.

After yesterday, I think we need some light relief.

I had totally forgotten about this delightful comedy sketch from the Monty Python boys.

The ghost of William McGonagall. Enjoy.

Autumn Budget Special.

Let me start with the shocking news that Labour's own Business Secretary Peter Kyle (no relation to Jeremy) has just declared that "It was our punishing tax policies that were responsible for having driven an exodus of wealth-creators from Britain";.... as if we didn't all know!

There was one huge sigh of relief around the UK when we all saw in last year's election manifesto that The Labour Party had PROMISED not to put up taxes; so before today's budget announcement we can all relax in the knowledge that we won't be fleeced by the fragrant Ms Reeves (above), and we can all enjoy their spurious assurances for a few minutes more.

But don't be fooled. What they probably meant (but got their speling rong) was that they WILL put up as many taxes as possible, just as they always do. But they didn't want to admit as much in case no-one voted for them. It's an old Labour trick, yet some people are still fooled. In the 'Tax and Spend' Socialist tradition, when you over-spend, you HAVE to raise taxes. It's simple logic. 

They may have been scared-off from raising Income Tax for the moment, but there are plenty of other taxes that they can raise. Alcohol, tobacco, personal savings, house taxes, money transfers, VAT, National Insurance, and, I'm told, even milk based drinks (yes, milkshakes), could all attract her grabbing attention. House taxes being the easiest, with comfortable hard-working middle classes, being the most vulnerable.

Having taken over with the strongest economy in the G7, it's come to this after just 12 months.

The one thing we all know about the fragrant 'Rachel from Accounts' is that she's hopeless at her 'sums', and that she is determined to create another Bankrupt Socialist Quagmire. She is happily creating a new third world country, with businesses closing by the day. The whole of the UK is becoming a giant version of Socialist Liverpool. Businesses simply can't cope with all the extra expenses, and many high streets have become no more than ghost towns. 

She still believes that if one gives 'workers', and even scroungers, more and more money, whilst increasing the taxes of the employers/wealth creators, that this will improve the economy. Would someone PLEASE explain to her that IT DOESN'T. She only has to look at the ever-rising unemployment figures; at present a further 1,000 a day are joining the nearly 2 Million others on the dole queue, and it's soon to increase. This is 282,000 more than when they took over last year.

She doesn't seem to understand that you make a vibrant economy by encouraging investment, leaving as much spending money in people's pockets as possible, and making businesses viable. NOT the opposite. 

The one thing that Rachel IS sure of (as she continuously tells us) is that the dire state of the economy is nothing to do with her, but all the fault of others; the only people who believe that are Sir Keith and Rachel herself. In a recent YouGov poll, 0% of the public thought the economy was in a good state. I expect she also thinks that she did no wrong by breaking the law with her house letting; but that's another story.

Reeves needs to raise about £20 Billion. Well, let me offer some advice. Our Overseas Aid at present costs us £25 Billion each year; money wasted on luxuries for foreign potentates, or even to fill their Swiss bank accounts. Scrap it NOW, and leave the tax payers alone. Your black hole could be cleared in just12 months without any extra taxes for anyone.

So, beware, there's a bloodbath coming. There may be one or two sweeteners, but if you are a hard-worker, have saved enough to live in a nice home, or you earn a decent salary, you WILL be clobbered later today. The 'class warriors' are out to get you. If I am wrong about their budget intentions, I will eat my beret,.... plus some humble pie!

I shall not watch the budget live (too depressing). I shall wait to see the resumé on tomorrow's TV News, and in the Independent Press. 

A staggering 275,000 UK wealthy Nationals have quit Britain in the past year; most of them embarrassed Socialists I imagine. Expect a lot more very soon.

A demain!

SERV

On Saturday morning, a man with a collection box said "Good Morning" to me as I entered Sainsbury's.

I replied to him, and went straight by. However, once inside, and I had secured my trolly, etc, I remembered that I had a load of shrapnel (coins) in my bag, so I returned to the man with the collection box.

"I hope you don't mind if I offload all my 'heavy metal' on you" I asked.

"Everything is welcome" he replied cheerily, as I emptied a load of copper and silver coins into his box. 

I have no idea how much I gave him, but it was certainly no more than a couple of quid.

"Here, have one of these" he said, sticking a red paper badge on my T shirt.

I thanked him profusely, and continued with my shopping.

It was two days later that I looked at the sticker to see what I'd given my money towards; it could have been for supplying Hamas with bullets for all I knew!

Looking at the sticker, I was a bit bemused. I had no idea what SERV was, so I looked it up. What I discovered rather surprised me.

It seems that they are a bunch of local voluntary, motorbike, deliverers of blood, for the NHS. Hells Bloody Angels.

If I'd known that before, I might have given them some paper money as well.

 

If you don't know what you're doing; take advice!

One of the most worrying aspects of our current government's disastrous economic policy is that it drives out those who create wealth (see yesterday's Sunday Times, above). They're leaving in their droves.

Of the seven wealthiest Brits illustrated (above) who have quit the UK in recent times (amongst 275,000 others), five have gone to Dubai, one to Switzerland/Dubai, and one to Jersey. Even the eight times named 'Britain's Richest Man', Lakshmi Mittal, has gone, and will now pay his taxes to Switzerland, and spend his pocket money in Dubai.

It might be an idea for the fragrant Rachel Reeves to have a look at Dubai's economy, and try to understand why our wealthiest businessmen are ending-up there, as THEIR economy thrives, and OURS fails.

Within the whole UAE, Dubai has one of the strongest economies, and they are hoping to double their foreign trade, and establish their city as a global business and tourist destination in the near future; you don't do that by frightening away your wealth-creators. Their aim can only be achieved by encouraging investment and innovation, and that is exactly what they're doing; the opposite of the UK.

Meanwhile back in dreary old Socialist London, Reeves looks for more and more ways to take money away from those who have contributed so much to the UK's past success. To frighten them away with threats of ever higher taxation.

I would like to suggest that the fragrant Ms Reeves pops over to Dubai, and asks some of their financial wizards how it's done!

Of course, whether she would listen to them or not is another question. A Socialist taking advice from a Capitalist is very unlikely. THAT is our problem.

 

Saturday.

It was a strange day yesterday.

I've never counted the amount of Traffic Lights there are between Chez Cro and my Supermarket; but I would think about 10. Yesterday EVERY SINGLE ONE was red, or became red when I was just a few yards away. I've never known a day like that before, it was almost as if someone was playing a joke on me.

Anyway, all cupboards, fridge, and freezer are now filled again, and we can happily be snowed-in for a week or more (if we ever have snow). I gave all my shrapnel to a man with a collecting box, and all my paper money to a nice lady at Waitrose in exchange for a load of 'stocking fillers'. I must remember to 're-fill' my wallet.

When I returned from my afternoon walk with Billy, I found Lady M with her hands covered in flour, and her nose inside the oven. She was making Mince Pies.

Being Swedish I think she was confusing Christmas with Easter, and we now have snow-covered Hot Cross Mince Pies. But they were very good.

It was blowing two hoolies yesterday; one from the North and the other from the South. They just managed to greet each other in Brighton, and the effect was memorable. It also rained a tiny bit, and was cold.

It was a day for hunkering-down and watching an old Norman Wisdom film in front of a roaring fire. In fact, as the skies darkened, we went to iPlayer and watched 'Ab Fab on holiday in Provence' (I'm sure you know the one). 

A nice cup of Lapsang, a Hot Cross Mince Pie, and a ten minute snooze, helped pass the afternoon. Later we watched through our Bay Window as the trees swirled about like Loie Fuller.

p.s. I must add that the morning sunrise had been just about the most spectacular I've ever seen. It was sensational. It was telling me something!!!

 

Covid-19 Enquiry

 

National 'Enquiries' can be both good and bad. It's always good to know exactly what happened in the the cases of disasters, or crises. But they can also be responsible for divisive muck-raking.

I have no idea who the people are who led the Covid-19 Enquiry in the UK. Their findings were published on Thursday 20th, and accused almost everyone of wrong-doing or incompetence. 

'Hindsight' is a wonderful thing, and one must never forget that Covid claimed the lives of over 7 Million people; 232,000 of whom were here in the UK. 

Covid was a new and dangerous illness. We all knew that it spread like wildfire, and that the effects could be fatal. Wisdom suggested that we should have as little contact with others as possible. We stayed at home, wore our masks and sterilised our hands. Most of us were also inoculated. There was PANIC everywhere. We literally thought we could die; and many did!

Our own government made drastic decisions to save us from disaster. Boris Johnson, the then Prime Minister, took advice from the country's top experts; Chris Whitty The Chief Medical Officer, and Sir Patrick Vallance The Chief Scientific Advisor (both above in photo with Boris), amongst others. Together they decided that a period of 'Lockdown' was the only way to help stop the spread of the disease, and save lives; which it did.

I was in France during the pandemic. We live way-out in the countryside so were almost immune, other than when shopping became imperative. We had our jabs, and managed to evade any illness. We did both eventually contact Covid, but that was a couple of years later back in the UK. For us the experience was no worse than a nasty cold. 

The recent Covid-19 Enquiry was chaired by Baroness Hallett; someone I haven't heard of. I believe she was a big-wig Judge. I taught Whitty (Centre in photo) at Prep' School before he went up to Malvern, and seeing his daily broadcasts during the pandemic, gave me great confidence in their collective wisdom.

Personally I found this enquiry unnecessary, and divisive. We suffered, we survived, and it's now part of our history. We've all learnt lessons, so let's not now drag-up what some ex-Judge thinks we COULD have done better. Retrospective sniping may please the anti-Boris stalwarts, but it helps no-one.

Personally I would prefer that governments of all political colours look after our welfare, rather than listen to some judge with no medical or scientific knowledge, who makes pronouncements about what they should or shouldn't have done.

Let's now put it to sleep, and get on with our lives. Although, of course, Covid is still around!

Dog appeal.

I've had just four dogs in my life. Hamlet (a scruffy terrier mut), Monty (yellow lab), Bok (black lab/border collie mix), and currently Billy (border collie). See side-bar.

When walking with Billy, I've noticed that he makes people smile! My other dogs had always been generally admired (mostly by fellow dog owners), but lots of people now stop and chat to me about Billy, and ask if they can stroke him. I'm sure most of them are not 'dog-people'. He seems to have a universal appeal.

I was talking about this to a fellow BC owner, and she said that people just love to see a black and white dog coming towards them. 

Personally I think that it makes people dream of Welsh mountains, or even of that old TV programme 'One Man and his Dog' (a sheep trial competition). 

There certainly is something about a black and white 'sheepdog' that people instantly warm-to; in the same way that people love Black Labs and Golden Retrievers. 

If you don't believe me; buy one!

 

Modern poaching.

Having heeded the advice of several recent comments, I searched out my two silicone egg poachers.

I can't remember who gave them to me, but I suspect it was Kimbo. 

As you can see, they are yellow, single egg, silicone, poachers; with ears. I gave them a good wash, put a small lump of butter in each one, and placed them in a pan of boiling water. When the butter had melted, I added the eggs.

They worked extremely well. After about five minutes, the final product was exactly as you want a poached egg to be. A firm white, with a just cooked yolk; and buttery. Freshly ground black pepper and a pinch of salt finished the job.

They are, of course, neatly shaped, and would look very nice on any dish that required an egg on top. They do also taste a little different to a fried egg, on account of the lack of oil. I'm not sure if that's better or not; more a question of taste.

From now on, I shall keep my poachers close at hand. A better answer to an under/over cooked boiled egg, and a more healthy answer to a fried one. Not much to complain about there!

I have a dedicated, stainless steel, four egg, poaching pan in France. It sits on top of a cupboard awaiting my attention, but frankly I can't remember when it was last used. I seem to remember that the individual cups have very sharp edges; which remain to be corrected. Between now and next Summer, I shall consider its future.

N.B. This morning it is COLD. I see on my forecast that it is 0 C, but feels like -13 C. For the first time this Winter I have put the central heating on, and I've given the Foxes an extra amount of Food.

Success.

Last Summer's jam making is now under serious scrutiny.

With the advance of Winter, I buy Crumpets and English Muffins, which are usually consumed in the afternoons with a cup of Lapsang.

The toppings are chosen from amongst our jams made this past August. Recently it's been Muffins that have graced our tea table, and the jam has been my 'Great Greengage'.

Not all my jams have been a success. My Blackberry Jam was just about OK, but it was a little like eating tiny black bullets in Blackberry Jelly. I shan't be making that again.

However, my Greengage Jam has proved to be delicious. I can't remember having made it before so it was a bit of an experiment. The Plums were cut in half, the pip removed, and to every kilo of fruit I used 600 gms of Jam Sugar and the juice of a Lemon. Just ordinary, standard, Jam making.

It has turned out to be really nice; quite different to the 'wild' Plum Jam that I made earlier in the season. I also made some Fabulous Fig Jam this year, but I think I must have left it in France; I can't find any here.

We have so much fruit that ripens whilst we're out in France that it would be crazy not to use it. Lady M always makes her own Apricot Jam (she won't eat her morning Croissants with anything else), and Strawberry Jam. I do all the others.

It's not a lot of work Jam making, in fact it's a real pleasure. Now, when I eat it on a cool afternoon in Sussex, I am reminded of the sunshine, the fruit picking, and our little kitchen filled with the aromas of various different Jams. What could be better!

 

Old fashioned breakfast.

How may people do you know who sit down to a couple of boiled eggs in the morning?

Probably none!

The last time I had boiled eggs was when Kimbo came for breakfast a couple of months ago, and I decided to surprise him. I'm afraid it surprised me too, as they were a bit under cooked.

It was this last Sunday morning, and the fridge contained all sorts of nice breakfasty things. I stood looking at it all with the fridge door wide open, and I simply couldn't decide. However, I did note that there were lots of eggs.

It was just after 5 am and I was busy, so I decided on something that would cook itself. After a solitary nearly five mins boiling time, they were done. Maybe this time a tad more cooked that I would have liked, but they were still very nice.

Of course the only crucial thing about boiling eggs is the TIMING. Delia Smith's aunt would sing three verses of 'Onward Christian Soldiers' to time hers, but I'm a bit more prosaic. I follow Woodrow Wyatt's method, and time them for exactly four and a quarter minutes. However, from what moment one starts the four and a quarter minutes is anyone's guess.

I like eggs in all their forms (other than scrambled). When in doubt eat a couple of eggs; BOILED.

p.s. I do remember writing about some celeb-chef's foolproof method. I must look it up. I think he brought the water to 'a rolling boil' from cold, turned it off, then left covered for a further five minutes. I seem to remember that it worked; I must check for details.

The Culprit.

I had left the sitting room to pop upstairs for something or other, and as soon as I entered the hallway, I could smell a strange, and alien, whiff.

Our hall doesn't usually smell of anything; it's just a hall with a few coats, shoes, and Billy's Tennis balls. So, what could it be?

When I came downstairs again I mentioned the 'pong' to Lady M, and she said she'd also smelt something strange.

The previous evening we'd had some friends here, and Lady M had placed the above lamp outside on the doorstep, complete with lit 'Tea light' inside (it gets dark early). The following morning she brought it inside and left it in the hall.

It was the only thing in the hall that didn't normally live there, and it immediately became the number one suspect. When I gave it a sniff, it was obvious that we had found the culprit. It STANK.

The only reason for the smell (that we could think of) was either Fox Pee, or Cat Spray. The latter probably being the stronger of the two, and the more likely (we have two Cats next door). An unpleasant smell if ever there was one.

The lamp was instantly taken out to the back patio, where I hope it will be rained on copiously.

PHWAAAH!

 

Our favourite national cuisine.

The amount of international cuisine on offer these days is quite amazing. In my regular UK supermarket I can buy foods from all around the world, including Halal and Kosher.

Having been born in 1946, I can still remember that the only Rice available in the shops was 'Pudding Rice'. Pasta was still unheard of, and China was just some far off place where people smoked Opium.

Curry was still considered exotic in the 50's and 60's, and it eventually became popular via packets made by Vesta; as did certain so-called Chinese dishes. People knew no better. It took another 60 years for Chicken Tikka Masala to become Britain's favourite dish.

Chinese and Thai foods have now become so popular that take-away restaurants are everywhere.

However, North African dishes are yet to become favourites, and I expect that will remain so. 

Most households would now eat Pasta or Pizza every week. We eat Swedish Meatballs, German Sauerkraut, Greek Salads, French Croissants, Spanish Paella, Turkish Kababs, and Danish Pastries.

French cuisine, once regarded as the epitome of fine-dining, is really very similar to English cuisine, and in fact I think we have now overtaken them in the gastronomic league table. Their decline is very noticeable in France itself.

I am personally very fond of Ground Cumin, so any excuse to use some is welcomed, and North African dishes appear often on the Magnon table.   

So what is my favourite national cuisine? I really don't know, but The Maghreb, China, and India are all jostling for first place. I really must make my mind up!

Driving shoes.

Like most old codgers (I imagine), I like to think of myself as a 'good driver'. I'm never in a hurry, I'm never impatient, and I'm always courteous. AND; I've never had an accident.

However, I do have a very slight driving problem. My most recent pair of suede 'desert boots' (bottom in photo) are very rigid, there's very little 'give' in them, and they have taken away a certain amount of sensitivity in my pedal actions (braking, accelerating, and clutch). My last pair (which died) were perfect. I'm still OK driving, but I wanted to regain that extra sensitivity in my feet that I always used to have.

So, my search was on for a pair of 'driving shoes', and I eventually decided on a pair of Dunlop, indoor/outdoor, navy corduroy, slippers. They are comfortable, they fit nicely, and they have good flexibility.

I've already given them a test run, and they are so much better than my clodhopper shoes. I really don't know why I didn't buy some before. My trip down to S France will now be so much more comfortable.

I'll be buying myself some driving gloves next. 

Just call me 'Fangio'!

Saturday mornings.

 

Without question, my favourite bit of the week is always Saturday morning.

I take Billy out at about 7.20 am. On Saturdays it's always quiet, and we usually have the park to ourselves. We are back home before 8 am.

Then I extract The Compact Royce (Debi) from her garage, I unfold her ears, kick the tyres, and head off to Hove, to Sainsbury's, for my big shopping trip of the week.

Saturdays are surprisingly quiet on the roads. No hold-ups, no school-kids all over the place, and no crazy 'late for the office' drivers. Even most cyclists wait for the red lights to turn green, which they don't usually do. 

The supermarket is BIG, but my shopping is quick and easy. I follow a very detailed, and mapped-out list, and I'm now such an expert on where everything is located, that they might even give me a job as a shelf-stacker.

My store employs people of all ages, and on Saturday mornings there are always a couple of lovely OAP ladies on the check-out. We have become almost like old friends, and we natter about any old nonsense as my purchases ring-up. Without wine on my list (we're on a wine-free diet) my bill is never much more than £50-60-ish. We live well, but not expensively. Nothing extravagant on my list this week, other than a pack of superior quality Mince Pies, and a frozen Turkey.

I thought I'd buy a nice frozen Turkey, just in case Bird Flu causes havoc. I think it's the same type as I had last year, which was delicious.

By chance, Kimbo had much the same idea and bought a frozen Goose. We are well prepared.

On the way home I popped into a big Pet food/toys/equipment/etc store to buy Billy's Christmas present. They didn't have what I wanted so I bought an annoying squeaky plastic Sheep instead. He'll love it; it's every Border Collie's dream.

It might sound strange, but I really do enjoy my shopping trips in the car, and this last Saturday was a lovely sunny day.

Debi is now back in her garage where she will wait patiently until next Saturday. Amazingly, I'm still driving on French petrol; I think she prefers it.

Desmond Dekker - Get Up Edina

The inimitable Desmond Decker, accompanied in the video by some blokes who've probably had too much Vodka.

My favourite DD song; not so sure about the 'dad dancing'. Actually, on reflection, I think the dancing is wonderful.

Thailand

Two boys, one cat, one mother, one father behind camera, and a game of chess. Early mornings in Thailand are like this.

No noses in mobiles. No hoodies. No disguise. No silly haircuts. Just a quick board game, maybe a swim, then off to school.

Boo Boo and The Cherub are what I would call 'bright boys'; they take after their Papa. I would love to know what they'll get up to when they're older, but I will probably never know.

They have travelled around the world, and are perhaps more 'worldly' than most of their peers. I think such people see things differently, which can only be a good thing. 

Thailand (even on their small island) isn't all glamour and beach-life. Most of the roads are appalling, and I believe that local workmen are pretty useless. It's not easy getting anything done to a decent standard; including gardening. There is a lot of frustration attached to daily life. There are snakes in the trees, and Wills has HUGE Lizards in the garden (and occasionally in the pool).

I'm not very well travelled myself. I've seen a bit of Europe, and I've been to the Caribbean; but otherwise I'm a bit of a 'stay at home lad'. Lady M is the opposite. She should have been born in Katmandu, but there was Yellow Fever around so she was eventually born in Surrey. Otherwise she's lived in Moscow, Washington, Caracas, France, and Brighton (to name but a few).

Having been raised in France, two of my children now live abroad, with just Kimbo being in the UK. Of course I miss the other two, but I thoroughly approve of their choices. 

Aunty

Dark days at the Beeb.

Isn't it amazing that it takes a foreign President to clear out some of the biased dross at the BBC. Sadly there are many more in the 'Wokey-Kokey-Klub' who should be shown the door. We really MUST have an independent news service that reports without bias, especially when it concerns foreign politics; whether that be left, right, or anywhere in between. The whole world used to rely on the accuracy and  impartiality of the BBC; that, sadly, is now at risk.

Both Davie and Turness should have known better. These are not stupid people. Davie was well-educated, and even stood as an MP (unsuccessfully). Ms Turness is also no stranger to good education (even though she was expelled from school), and has degrees from two universities (Surrey and Bordeaux).

Davie was the BBC's Director General; and the buck had to stop with him! And Turness was Chief Executive of BBC News. Neither are positions that should involve corruption. Both have now resigned after Tr*mp's intervention. And rightly so!

The UK often accuses the USA of getting involved in overseas politics; and now here WE are, found to have been meddling in the last Presidential election, in the most unacceptable way.

Whatever their politics, they should certainly NOT be 'doctoring' video coverage. The USA's own electorate can decide who they wish to run their country, without any help from the BBC, and they chose Tr*mp.

The BBC always had an excellent reputation for impartiality; that reputation has been seriously eroded in recent times. We've had the Gaza film scandal, the use of woke nonsense to describe pregnant women, and all the Savile, Bashir, Edwards, and Wallace, episodes; the list goes on. To gain a reputation takes time, to lose it can be instantaneous.

I hear that Tr*mp will be claiming 'damages' against the BBC. Well, I hope he wins, because that would be 'right'; and one should always be on the side of what it 'right'. But at the same time I hope he gives gives any settlement to charity.

Aunty's now looking extremely tarnished.

p.s. Just in case you are unaware, 'Aunty' is what English people call the BBC.

Sunday Lunch

Kimbo is a very good cook. He loves his food, and he loves both cooking and eating.

So, as is tradition in the winter months, he lit a fire on his TV, and roasted some poor creature from NZ.

There is something extremely satisfying in knowing that you have raised children to become both gourmets and gourmands. 

We discussed the quality of a particular Champagne, and we had a  product test between two successive year's vintages of a favourite Montepulciano. 

Lunch was exquisite Lamb, with perfectly cooked vegs, followed by Susie's Tarte Tatin that might well have challenged one recently made by Lady M. Both were of International championship competition quality.

And here is the maestro himself (looking very old) trying to keep the bubbles out of his nose.

Yesterday was a lovely sunny day. Eating, drinking, and walking with Billy; just about perfect. Not a care in the world.

Now Monday Morning: Kimbo arrives for breakfast any time now, so I'd better go and fry some goodness! He won't be here on Friday, so we have made amends.

I have just seen that it will probably rain all week. Oh well.......

Alphonse

Alphonse is my doll. I've had him since I was born.

During WW2, my mother was a Red Cross Nurse. She paced the pavements of a nearby village (Dormansland in Surrey) that was used as a giant maternity home for London women. She was there in case anyone was 'caught short'. In fact she was the only nurse to deliver a baby on the pavement during the whole length of the war. The young mother said she would have named the baby after my mother; but unfortunately it was a BOY!

Towards the end of the war (1944 maybe?) Mother went to a very grand Red Cross Ball in one of London's best hotels. She bought a raffle ticket and won Alphonse. In the Summer of 1946, he became mine.

Alphonse is dressed as a Japanese Prisoner of War. He has a straw hat, and straw shoes. I believe the raffle money was used to send Red Cross food parcels out to the prison camps. His uniform is all hand made, and, sadly, is beginning to show its age.

Dear Alphonse is now about 82 years old, but he still supports Remembrance Sunday. He will be sitting in my front window on November 9th, and also on Armistice Day on November 11th. He wears his poppy with pride, and remains dignified throughout.

I've written about Alphonse before, and I always say the same thing; I do hope that someone will take great care of him when I'm gone. Perhaps I should even take him with me.

Jeans

I'm not really a 'Jeans' person, but I have owned a couple of pairs that I loved, and still do love.

This picture below must have been taken when I was about 10 (I'm the one on the right; the other is my French friend Didier with our cat 'Tiddles').

The Jeans I'm wearing were just the nicest pair of trousers I've ever owned. They were loose fitting, comfortable, and I considered them to be really cool. I loved them, and was almost overcome with apoplexy when they eventually became too small for me. 

Since those days I've not really worn Jeans. But back in about 2017 I bought TWO pairs from my local Leclerc supermarché, for the staggering price of 6.35 Euros each (that's about £5 each). I could hardly refuse!

I don't wear them too often, but I probably should. Like my first ever pair, they are loose-fitting, and comfortable. They are pukka 'Jeans colour', and have aged naturally. They may not be trendy skinny Jeans, or even bell-bottoms; they have an anonymous quality about them. They blend into the background. Amazingly they have no rips in the knees, or elsewhere. 

Here I am, just back from a walk with Billy; cane in hand, and wearing my trusty Jeans. I do look a bit like a labourer.

They may not be trendy, or expensive, or even particularly attractive, but I do like them.

Jeans must be the most diverse of all items of clothing. They come in all shapes, sizes, colours, and states of repair. Some people spend their whole lives in them, others may have twenty pairs in their cupboards that they treat like Works of Art.

Do you wear Jeans? 

Viva Levissimo!

 

Heads in the Sand.

 

Humans are strange creatures.

I usually read my MSN News feed every morning to see what is happening in the world, and all I see are stories about Ms Markle, a new Mayor in NY, David Beckham, Knife crime, The Kardashians, and lots of minor Celebs either getting married, or getting divorced.

Meanwhile in other parts of the world tyrants are behaving like savages. We have Hamas, Putin, and worst of all the RSF in Sudan.

Going through the dross that purports to be 'News', I found just one small piece about Sudan. Otherwise there was an article about the appalling treatment of an Israeli hostage in Gaza, and nothing about Ukraine at all.

The report I came across about the atrocities in Sudan, was only to inform us that Yvette Cooper, our fragrant Foreign Secretary, was sending £5 Million to help the Christians who are being slaughtered in unimaginable numbers, and in unimaginable ways. Reports describe streets flowing with blood with body parts spread everywhere; all viewable from space. Hospitals have been attacked with all patients, doctors, women and babies, being killed en masse. Other 'war crimes' are too nasty to mention here, but you can imagine.

Sudan's RSF (Rapid Support Force) are possibly the most brutal military group on earth, but their crimes get very little coverage. Frankly, what will £5 Million do to help solve the problem? Nothing! It's the price of a reasonable size house in Notting Hill. The RSF are being supported by Saudi and Iran; a few UK taxpayers £'s will hardly help against that. Most will probably go directly to someone's pocket anyway.

So what can be done with these savages? Even 'Celebs' visiting the area (this was Clooney back in 2008) doesn't help..... I doubt if they even knew who Clooney was. 

Is Ms Kardashian's new hair colour really more important than genocide in Africa? I think occasionally we get our priorities completely wrong! Those poor Christians in Sudan deserve our help; the RSF, like Hamas, needs to be stopped and eliminated.

Food Fads

Food is occasionally as much a matter of fashion as the make of your shoes or the width of your trouser bottoms.

Pomegranate Molasses had a short life as a 'must have' food (I never tried it), as did  Pulled Pork, Biltong, and Kimchi. I'm sure there have been others.

Kimchi is hardly mentioned these days. Its fashion days were quickly over, and only the diehards (like myself) still eat it; unless, of course, you live in S Korea where it's eaten every day.

I have bought various different makes of Kimchi over the years. Only one had a strange smell and was difficult to eat, but most were very pleasant. This one above is very mild, has a pleasant taste, and is great just as a snack with cheese, etc.

Fermented foods are having a bit of a comeback as their medicinal properties become better known. We regularly eat Sauerkraut, and I (not Lady M) often eat Kimchi. Whether or not it does my gut any good is another question.

Anyway, it's better to eat for pleasure rather than for what the doctor suggests, and most (not all) Kimchi fulfills that criteria.

p.s. The one above came from Sainsbury's (other stores are available).

 

THE MAYORS OF NY, LONDON, and BRIGHTON.

Many of the good people of New York are apparently in fear of their new Muslim Mayor Mr Zohran Mamdami. His socialist, woke, policies are making many flee for their lives.

In London we've had a Muslim Mayor for many years, and (it has to be said) he's made a bit of a mess of things, and isn't too popular. He's made life a misery for car owners, violent crime is up by 40%, and the amount of 'stabbings' has become a nightmare.

Since May of this year we have a new Lady Mayor here in Brighton. She replaces our previous Mayor Mohammed Asaduzzaman (below), who I believe was also a Muslim. They seem to be everywhere. We are expecting some improvement. 

So, I say to all you New Yorkers; nothing lasts forever, have no fear, all will soon be over!

Wooden spoons

They might seem like mundane little throw-away objects, but a good wooden spoon is one of the most important tools in the kitchen. It is a natural product, it uses no electricity or batteries, and is easily stored.

The well used spoon in the bottom right of my photo, was without doubt my favourite spoon; hence it looking so well-used. Sadly it broke a couple of years ago (probably through old-age), and I have not yet found the perfect replacement. The picture shows just a selection of my collection in France.

I've been in desperate need of a new wooden spoon, and in recent months I've bought TWO new spoons (below), but neither hits the spot. The bowl is too big, the handle too short, or just the feel of the thing isn't right. My search continues.

I like wooden spoons. I expect most are made by robots these days, but I have several that were hand-carved. The manufacturing process doesn't make one better than another, but it's always good to see 'skill'.

These are the two I bought recently. The top one has a slightly over-sized bowl and a short handle, and the bottom one is made of very poor quality wood and needs sanding; it's unpleasant to use.

I do know of a nearby shop where my quest may be fulfilled. I shall let you know. I know you'll be anxious on my behalf.

Why do we work?

 

The obvious answer to this simple question is 'to earn money'.

We all want a roof over our heads, to be able to pay our bills, put food on the table, clothes on our backs, and hopefully to afford a little warmth during the winter months. If there's anything left over, maybe buy a car, an annual holiday, and a few pints at the weekend. Most of us don't ask for a lot more than that.

So, how are the government helping us with our aspirations! They promised 'CHANGE'.

They raise house taxes (plus the cost of buying that house). They put-up the prices of our everyday food purchases. They take away Winter fuel payments from the elderly. They close-down Pubs and High Street shops. They punish the hard-working. Cause panic amongst our Farmers. And possibly worst of all, they create mass UNEMPLOYMENT (as they always do). Yet people still vote for these clowns; probably including most of those who are now suffering as a result of their folly.

If possible, I want my taxes to be spent wisely. I would occasionally like to see a 'Bobby on the Beat'. I want my exorbitant local taxes to be used for street lighting, pot-hole-filling, and street cleaning. I would also like a bit to be left-over for my NHS health care (if I need it), so that I don't have to sit for several days in a cold and damp corridor, waiting for my in-growing-toenail to be looked-at. 

I should add here that we have a lovely brand new replacement modern street-lamp outside our house. It was installed whilst we were away in Summer. Sadly, it has never had a lightbulb fitted, or been connected to the power supply. When I recently made enquiries I was told that we might have some actual light again before Christmas. The old one (next to it) has been chopped in half, but remains there in situ.

Pot holes are still everywhere, and if I do ever see a Street Cleaner, he's usually sitting down in a dark corner, lighting a spliff. 

As for that Bobby.... no bloody chance!

p.s. On the political front, I see that both Labour and The Tories have been overtaken by The Green Party in the popularity polls. People are becoming DESPERATE.

Nureyev.

I was listening to a BBC radio play recently where the hero visited Covent Garden to see Nureyey and Fonteyn, and it reminded me of a chance encounter.

In around 1966-67 I was dealing in antiques in London's Chelsea. In those days, and in that location, you really never knew who you would meet next. 'Celebs' were thick on the ground.

So I wasn't really surprised when one morning in walked Rudolf Nureyev.

He was a stunning sight. Exceptionally handsome in his very camp style, and dressed almost from head to foot in fur. The photo above was NOT his outfit at the time, but it was the only one I could find of anything similar. The hat looks the same.

Knowing our local Fox population as I do, I would suggest that his hat and coat were of Fox fur; they were certainly of that type and colour. He also wore soft pale leather, knee high, boots that were trimmed with the same fur around the tops. He stood out from the crowd like a sore thumb.

He looked around my offerings (mostly early European polychromed wood carving), and handled a few appreciatively. We didn't speak, other than a polite 'good morning'. Then he was gone. He was by himself, and in those days no-one pestered for autographs, etc.  

I have never been to the Ballet, and I regret this. Some of the world's better Ballet companies do visit Brighton, so there's still time. I can, of course, no longer see Nureyev, but there are plenty of others who possibly come close to his genius.

In the mid-to-late 60's in central London, you could stand still for ten minutes and see dozens of well-known faces. You probably couldn't do that today!

 

Almost next door.

You might be forgiven for thinking that I've moved to Jerusalem.

This sign is just around the corner from where I live, and is the remnants of a street that was demolished, back in the 1960's, to make way for a Primary School.

There is now only ONE HOUSE in the non-existent road, and that is No 2 (previously owned by a TV Celeb friend). The remainder of what was Mount Zion Place is now a twitten that runs behind my garage. An area much loved by those who enjoy illegal substances.

I've tried to discover why it was named after Mount Zion, but no official reason is given. One person suggested that there might have been a Pub' called The Mount Zion, but even that has not been confirmed.

A further 100 yards away is Zion Gardens. Again I have no idea why it is called as such.

The only thing I know about Mount Zion (the original one), is that it's the home of The Cenacle; which is described as the location of The Last Supper. All very exotic.

As you can probably see, like most street signs it attracts the attention of the 'Squiggle Merchants' who find it impossible to pass-by any white surface without leaving evidence of their stupidity. Such is life!

 

Less than two months to go.

I feel as if we're rushing towards Christmas, and that the next two months are simply annoying barriers in the way. 

Christmas has become a focal point, and Mince Pies, Plum puddings, and glitzy decorations are already on sale in the shops. It feels as if people are trying to get it all over and done with as soon as possible, so that they can look forward to Easter.

The 'commercial' year, in the UK, is divided into 4 distinct parts. New year, Easter, Summer holidays, and Christmas. And we now have a month of Black Friday to come (whatever that is). We close our eyes whilst rushing from one to the other.

I, like so many others, get caught-up in all this nonsense, and I'm already planning what gifts I will buy, what we'll eat on the big day (THAT never changes), and even when we'll leave for France in 2026.  

With no more 'goals to achieve', one year is now much like another. There are no highs or lows. No targets to aim for. Our only concern is to end each year 'alive and solvent'.

My Supermarket 'Loyalty Card' has only accumulated £12 since last Christmas (the bloody skinflints), so it won't pay for this year's Turkey. Anyway, I'm looking forward to it all. For me, it's still be best day of the year, but PLEASE, can we not mention it for another 6 weeks!

HAPPY CHRISTMAS