Scaffolding.

 

Firstly I must say that I HATE scaffolding, and ours will be taken down as soon as possible. Scaffolding makes the whole area look scruffy.

We finally decided to paint the front and back of our bijou residence. We are the last to do so in our row of four houses, and we were beginning to look a tad scruffy. The painted surfaces are quite small, so we decided to do the job ourselves; with the help of grandson Suave Harve. In doing so we have saved a considerable amount of dosh; and Harve's Beer Fund has benefitted.

There was a small amount of preparatory filling to be done, which I undertook myself, otherwise it was a simple paint job.

All tradesmen charge a fortune these days. A professional painter would probably have charged anything up to £5,000. We ordered the scaffolding ourselves (£900), and bought all the paint etc (£70), so it made sense to clamber up the scaffolding with brush and a pot of paint, and to do it ourselves. The saving was enough for a Caribbean Cruise, a crate of Bollinger, and a month's stay at The Savoy.

This past Summer I fell off ladders TWICE, and I still have a sore head as a souvenir. So I wasn't really looking forward to going up to do too much, but I'm a foolhardy soul and I couldn't resist. In fact I could hardly wait to do some climbing and view the house from a totally new viewpoint.

The filling of tiny cracks was child's-play, and was almost a pleasure to do. The weather was perfect, and the filler I'd bought was very user-friendly. The two walls, front and back, were ready to paint in less than a couple of hours. At the same time I squirted some clear silicone into the joins between some parapet tiles. As I was busy atop the scaffold, my neighbour 'The Bishop' went past and we had a few words. I felt blessed and much safer.

Many years ago when I owned a big classic Brighton Victorian terraced house, it was painted white back and front. We employed a business called 'University Painters' to do the painting job. They were a couple of female students, who earned themselves a pretty penny painting houses at weekends, by just using ladders. No scaffolding for these intrepid erstwhile wall-artists. They had no qualms about climbing-up three stories of ladders, and did a great job.

No doubt with Elf-n-Safety rules these days, such enterprise would be BANNED.

Our present work took just one relaxed day, and the finished job looks great. We used 'Sandtex' Paint, which is slightly textured, and is very forgiving. The finish is very smooth.

Well done Harve; job done! 

p.s. I am now wondering what my left-wing trolls will find to insult me about. I'm sure they'll find something. 

Full-ish Engl-ish

Friday mornings mean just one thing; breakfast with Kimbo at 7 am (on the dot).

Kimbo (like me) is a very good time-keeper. I can prepare everything in advance so that when he walks through the door, he makes us both a coffee (his job), and we immediately sit down to eat.

Yesterday's breakfast was a tad meagre; sadly there was no Haggis or Black Pudding on offer.

I do try to make changes. We recently enjoyed a Cheese and Ham Omelette together, and just occasionally we have a French breakfast of Croissants with Apricot Jam.

However, yesterday we had Baked Beans on Luxury Toast (the crusts were cut off), fried Egg, Bacon, and a single sausage. Not my usual gut-buster; but very nice even so.

Over the coming week I will experiment with different methods of Poaching Eggs, so that next Friday we will hopefully enjoy our Eggs not fried, but perfectly poached.

 

Stray Cats

In France we not only have a lot of stray Dogs, but over the years we've also welcomed several stray Cats.

Korky (below) was just a kitten when I adopted her. In May of 1990 I was visiting nearby friends and she suddenly appeared from under their car, and they didn't want her. She was quite a nice Cat, but something had happened to the end of her tail; it was raw and red. She (I presume that all cats are female) stayed with me for quite a while, then one night she disappeared. I looked everywhere, but I have no idea what happened to her.

I had several others turn-up over the years. Some just came to be fed and watered, others stayed for a bit longer. One, that I called 'Crocket', was a HORRIBLE Cat, but I looked after her anyway. She was named Crocket because I (unkindly) thought she might make quite a good hat (!!!!!).

My good friend Jock also had a string of strays who ended-up living with him. The most notable amongst them he called Gustave, who would drape himself around Jock's shoulders like a scarf. They were inseparable.

All these Cats were roughly drawn, and appeared in my scrapbook of 'silly sketches' that I kept for many years.

This below was Crocket. She really was awful. I think it shows!!!

Poached Eggs

I do like Poached Eggs, but I hardly ever prepare them. I have a dedicated 4 Egg stainless steel Poaching pan in France, which doesn't get much use; I don't know why.

A while back I heard of a poaching method that sounded quick and easy. You half-filled a mug with boiling water, dropped the Egg into it, and microwaved for a minute. It worked but was slightly over-cooked. 40 seconds would probably have been enough. There was also a slight explosion.

Someone later gave me these two silicone poachers (below), that float on boiling water whilst the Eggs are cooking; I put some butter in the bottom. They work well, but take much longer; about 5 minutes.

Recently another method kept cropping-up on my Facebook page. I was very taken by its simplicity, and guaranteed success, so I ordered TWO. They arrived almost at once.

Yesterday morning I was very eager to try my new purchase (below). One puts a small amount of water in each section, pops in the Eggs, and microwaves for one minute; having first pricked the Eggs all over with a toothpick.

At about 45 seconds there was an almighty explosion, and the interior of the microwave was completely pebble-dashed with half-cooked Egg. It then took me about half an hour to clean the interior of the bloody oven.

The two brand new Egg poachers went directly to the dustbin.

My advice is, if they appear on your Facebook page, and you are tempted; DON'T BUY THEM.

They are lethal.

Confucius

I first heard this tune on a 'Focus' album, and I was immediately hooked. 

This version is a joint effort between the Out of Control Army and the Melbourne Ska Orchestra. Lots of brass; wonderful.

 

Sheeran.

I know absolutely nothing about Ed Sheeran's music, but if I was him, I'd stick two fingers up at the music industry, take the money, and RUN.

It's an interesting 21st Century bit of nonsense. On his current tour of the USA, Sheeran had an opening act called Macklemore, who was using Sheeran's name to further his career, and who spent most of his time on stage praising terrorism and damning Israel. It became so bad that the Stadium owner, Robert Kraft, insisted that Sheeran got rid of him. Then, in a very bizarre move, dozens of Macklemore's friends pulled-out of the show in his support, leaving Sheeran himself as the only person on stage (I'm hoping this resumé is roughly correct).

I was interested enough to follow-up the story concerning some Free-Palestine protesters who later made a nuisance of themselves outside the stadium in Philadelphia.

I looked through a swathe of pictures of the flag-waving, slogan-shouting, lovies, but failed to find one single woman wearing a hijab. If this demonstration had taken place in their beloved 'Palestine', they would all now be very bruised, and/or in prison.

That is the REALITY of what they wish for. Not the freedoms offered by Israel, but the endemic repression of Islam.

Sheeran is a very popular singer and must have made several £Millions by now. If I was him, I'd retire to somewhere pleasant and have nothing more to do with the whole music industry, and especially with those who use their music as a political platform. Other singers, as we all know, use the platform for racism, and even for class warfare. 

When radical Woke politics enters the entertainment business, and affects your work in this way, it's time to call it a day.

 

Piddington.

Piddington is a small attractive Oxfordshire village with a population of under 360 residents.

The villagers are not happy. They are being told that they must receive 1,250 young male illegal immigrants, to be housed in an old village army barracks. They have said "NO" to the scheme in no uncertain terms; even to the extent of holding an Independence Vote to leave the UK. The vote was won almost unanimously. They now claim to no longer be a part of the UK, but are The Principality of Piddington; but to which Prince this refers I'm not sure.

They have written to Government Ministers, and their fears have fallen on deaf ears. Women's groups have made special appeals to all female MP's fearing their safety, but no-one is listening to them.

I have one simple solution to suggest. The old Barracks should be securely fenced-in with electrified razor wire, to keep all the criminals inside. If they weren't able to wander around, I'm sure the people would feel much safer. If, in exceptional cases, they HAD to leave their compound, they should be made to wear very distinctive Orange Jumpsuits.

I really hate it when our elected representatives ignore the wishes of the electorate. This is a classic example. The good folk of Piddington DON'T WANT 1,250 ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS dumped on their doorstep by a government who says that 'we all need to share the load'. 

Well, Mr Burnham; the people of Piddington don't feel they need to share your load! But how about a huge open camp in your beloved Manchester instead?

 

Inconsiderate Bast*rd.

Between our back gate and our garages is a small area of no-mans-land where we back out, turn our cars, or even park for a short while whilst unloading shopping. Otherwise it is kept clear at all times. It is private land, and is for the use of residents only!

However, occasionally some selfish idiot decides to use the area as a free car park. They block our garages, and simply act as if they have every right to be there.

I have encountered a Chinese family having picnics there (twice), a taxi driver using it as pick-up point, and many others who park there, go shopping in town, and couldn't care less about who they inconvenience.

Recently this car above blocked both my, and my neighbour's, garages. It was there all day. I wanted to go out but was blocked-in. My next door neighbour's wife is 'heavily pregnant' and they could require their car at any moment. Blocking both our garages like this is simply not acceptable.

So, what can one do about such behaviour? Well the answer is 'Not Much'. The Police aren't interested as it's private land. We can't let his tyres down, as that would make him stay there even longer. And we can't really pour a pot of paint over his windscreen, as he'd probably sue us.

This car (above) was there for most of the day. Luckily Lady Magnon did see the owner sitting in the car before driving away. He was of 'dark complexion', and was in the process of lighting a 'spliff'. When she told him 'what's what', he just shrugged his shoulders and drove away. He had won!

I'd previously put a note on the windscreen, but he didn't even bother to look at it. Maybe the traditional Potato up the exhaust pipe might have done the trick, but I didn't think of it early enough.

Any non-criminal solutions to our problem would be gratefully received.

Losing (or lost) the Plot

The hierarchy of Church of England have been making some very bizarre pronouncements in recent times. It really isn't surprising that they now have so few followers, and that their churches are almost empty.

The new Archbishop of Canterbury (the C of E boss), The Right Reverend, The Right Honourable, Dame Sarah Mullally DBE, seems to go from one crazy controversy to another.

First it was her aim to hand-out £100 Million as recompense for slavery. I'm not sure who would receive this money, or even why; but I do know that the money put into the collection boxes on Sundays wasn't intended for that!

Just recently, on the anniversary of 9/11, she wanted to present Tahir Ashrafi (above with someone in disguise) with a 'Reconciliation and Interfaith Co-operation Award'. In the past, Ashrafi has praised Bin Laden, referred to the Hamas Oct 7th terrorists as 'Freedom Fighters', and claimed that all suicide attacks against NATO peace-keeping forces were 'Lawful'. He also says that all men should be allowed FOUR WIVES, without having to ask any permission. Regardless, our lovely new Wokey Archbishop thought him worthy of some Christian 'Award'. 

She has since had her hand slapped, and has backed down. It was obvious to all except her and her Wokey chums, that his views were 'outrageous'.

Shouldn't someone in her position be concentrating on spreading her Mumbo-Jumbo, rather than back-slapping supporters of terrorism? One really wonders what this woman will get up to next!

It used to be the case that our Archbishops of Canterbury dealt in matters of Creed and Morality. These days it's all Politics and Wokery. A very sad sign of the times!

 

Then and now

 

Our Barn in 2023, the day before before we sold it.

The Barn two weeks ago in 2026.

I don't wish to tell people how they should live their lives, but a certain amount of respect for a newly purchased property, and even the environment, wouldn't go amiss.

Before we sold it, I looked after the barn and its surrounding gardens on a daily basis. I had already worked for two years on the interior, and had created the whole garden from scratch; including the orchard. It was a great pleasure for me seeing it looking 'pristine'. However, the new owner obviously sees things differently. It now looks overgrown and abandoned, and is a total MESS.

And, yes, he does live there permanently. If he can't be bothered to do the work himself; get a bloody GARDENER!!!

Bloody thieves

I've just received my Car Insurance renewal papers.

As you can see, my premium has jumped from £415 to £509. A total disgrace!

The less I drive, the more my premium rises. What on earth have I done to warrant this increase? I've made no claims, I've had no accidents, in fact I've been the perfect client. I pay them cash and they give nothing in return; nor have they since I first began to drive! They should be falling at my feet, and offering me free coverage for the next decade, in the knowledge that I'm one of the safest drivers in Europe.

As with Road Tax, there is no escape from Car Insurance other than to sell my car and become 100% pedestrian. For the moment I cannot exist without my car; especially in France, so I need to continue to pay these scoundrels whatever they demand.

Bah; humbug!

 

UK Referenda

 

The leaders of Scotland's SNP, N Ireland's Sinn Fein, and Wales's Plaid Cymru, have all recently got together to talk about their mutual desires for independence from England.

At present the only member of the four nation 'United Kingdom' to NOT have it's own Parliament is England. Scotland, N Ireland, and Wales each have their own Parliaments, where English MP's do not sit. It really is about time that England had it's own Parliament as well.

Personally I am all FOR their independence. It would save England VAST amounts of Tax-Payer 'Barnett Formula' money. The three newly independent countries could all remain members of The Commonwealth (if they wished), but would not be eligible for 'Foreign Aid' from England.

I would suggest that all major English companies that are presently installed in any of the three other countries should return to England. Each of the newly independent countries would need to raise their own taxes, pay for their own defence, pay for their own unemployed, and pay for their own schools and hospitals. 

They would also no longer benefit from the BBC, The NHS, The Passport Office (they'd need to have their own), or even The DVLA.

If, after a referendum, the three countries voted to remain in the UK, may I also suggest that England holds its own referendum and becomes a unilaterally independent country; leaving the others to go it alone. 

It's about time that N Ireland, Wales, and Scotland all stood on their own two feet, and didn't rely on the generosity of England to keep them afloat. It would be fun to watch how they get on!

Observations.

 

We've been back in Brighton for a couple of weeks now, and my first observation has been how friendly people are. It used to be like that in France, but something has happened, and there is now a feeling of 'gloom' everywhere. Here we can hardly walk a few metres without someone stopping to chat, and they're not always people we know.

Our lives are not that different to how they are in France. We tend to eat much the same, we drink the same wines, and our time-table is not that different. In Brighton we see Foxes every day, but I would say that is the only noticeable daily difference.

I always like to compare my two supermarkets. In France, Leclerc is still excellent, but some shelves are regularly empty; I have no idea why. Here at Sainsbury's the aisles are littered with people filling baskets for online shoppers, and they do hamper one's movement. It's a big store but there must be between 20 and 30 people permanently filling huge trollies with online purchases. Not good.

Pickles. France has a huge love-affair with pickled Gherkins (Cornichons), but nothing else. There is a huge variety of sizes, shapes, and presentations, but they're still all Gherkins. There are no pickled Onions, Red Cabbage, or even Piccalilli on regular sale in France. Nor are there 'Branston' type pickles, or Chutneys. The UK is far more adventurous. 

On the other hand, French Charcuterie is far superior. The variety of really good products, both on the Deli counter, and on the shelves, is superb. Something the UK still has to master. The UK also continues to have a problem with Sausages. I still cannot understand why we are obsessed with 'additives' in sausages. Please, please, will someone start a company making 100% Pork sausages. Nothing is simpler, and nothing is tastier. 

Strangely, UK bread making seems to have improved hugely over the past decade. The choice of interesting breads is now far ahead of that in France. The classic, and often boring Baguette, has held them back. It is 'traditional' and they're sticking with it regardless.

The weather has changed a lot since being back, and Autumn is almost here. I am still wearing just Shorts and T Shirts, and I will continue to do so well into October. I have also bought myself my FIRST EVER pair of sandals. I was worried that they would be uncomfortable, but I love them.

Everything here is OK, and we're very happy to be 'home'. We miss swimming every day, and we miss the open countryside, but inner city life can be just as much fun.

The next big event will be painting the front and back of the house. The Scaffolding has been ordered, and grandson Suarve Harve will quit Oxford for a weekend to lend a hand. It'll be good to have it done. I shall be up there doing some of the masonry work prior to painting. Pray for me!

Student Accommodation

It's the start of the new academic year. Michaelmas term starts any day; or has already started. This means that students everywhere are moving into new bed-sits, squats, or (if their people are filthy rich) 5 star hotel suites; my two UK based grandsons are amongst them (in bed-sits).

The Young Ones (below) were classics of the ilk. During my own first year at college I shared a flat with two others. One of them once lit a gas ring with a piece of flaming newspaper, then dropped it in the rubbish bin (yes, we did actually have one). The bin caught fire, as did the curtain behind it, and had I not found it in time, and had been adept with a bucket of water, the whole house might have burned down.

The Young Ones were an anarchic bunch of 80's students, who represented perfectly many of the trends of the time. Along with Little Britain, it was one of the UK's funniest and well-loved TV comedy shows.

Rik Mayall, Ade Edmondson, Alexi Sayle, and Nigel Planer played the main characters, and all went on to greater things. 

The genius who was Rik Mayall (black leather hat) sadly died back in 2014; what an extraordinary person he was. 

 

The Fourth Plinth

 

For anyone who may not already have seen it, this is the latest offering for Trafalgar Square's vacant fourth plinth.

Works occupying the space are temporary, and usually have nothing in common with the 'heroic' theme of the square's other monuments.

This current one (above) is by American artist, Tshabalala Self, and we are told that it represents 'Everywoman'. It is entitled 'Lady in Blue'.

I really don't know what to say about it. It is cartoon-like, gaudy, and looks totally out of place. It lacks any dignity usually associated with Trafalgar Square.

Is it supposed to be sending me some hidden message? Is the person depicted someone of importance? I really have no idea. It looks as if it would be better situated outside a KFC Chicken shop.

There have been some strange occupants of the fourth plinth, and I cannot imagine what Lord Nelson would have thought about them. Not too much methinks! I hear that London's Mayor, Sadiq Khan, turned-down the proposal of a statue commemorating our late Queen, in favour of this blue woman.

This one will remain in place until 2028, when it will be replaced by (what looks like) a big lump of greenish glass, by Andra Ursuta, and is entitled 'Untitled'.

This (below) is what the fourth plinth looks like in it's unoccupied state. Occasionally it's preferable than when occupied.

In the background are The National Gallery (left), and St Martin in the Fields (right).

N.B. If you ever happen to be in central London, and are looking for somewhere interesting to have lunch, may I recommend the wonderful café in the vaulted crypt beneath St Martin's.

Family Fun

My grandsons (luckily) all adore each other, and get on extremely well, and as a result they do tend to take the pi*s as often as possible.

'Suave Harve' is the tallest amongst them, so is the prefect target for a bit of size-reduction.

The above is a classic example; I love it.

But then Suave Harve's tormentor, Finn, just passed his driving test in Oz, so Harve retaliated with THIS.

 

Well done boys; keep-up the good work!!!

Trade War with Israel

 

It is no secret that the UK's Socialists have traditionally always been Antisemitic.

They keep 'assuring' us that this is no longer the case, but just a few days ago, they imposed a totally illogical and unnecessary trade war against Israel, which will no doubt have knock-on effects against the Jewish community back in the UK itself. Both Hamas and Iran have joyously hailed Andy Burnham's policy as heralding 'The End of Israel'. They are both delighted.

After the atrocities of October 7th, the UK's Tory Prime Minister at the time, Rishi Sunak, declared that the UK 'Unequivocally stood with Israel'. He issued a very clear statement that the UK utterly condemned the Palestinian terror group Hamas. The Socialists (Burnham, Miliband, & Co) however, see things very differently, and have no qualms about condemning Israel, and supporting the terrorists; it seems as if, for them, Hamas can do no wrong, and Israel must be punished for having retaliated, after having been attacked in such a horrendous way.

The UK exports £3.5 Billion worth of goods to Israel, whilst we import £2.4 Billion in return. So, now that Labour has put all that trade in jeopardy, both will certainly suffer!  

The small map below shows where Jewish settlers live in The West Bank. They are mostly growers of Fruit and Veg, and those areas will obviously suffer from Andy and Ed's simplistic sanctions. The UK also imports about 25% of its medicines from Israel; I do hope they've made provisions to buy from elsewhere. In retaliation there will no doubt be a round of tit-for-tat sanctions, I doubt if Israel will continue to import from the UK; or even sell them essential pharmaceuticals.

Most political parties have a few illogical policies, but they MUST also think of the consequences. To alienate both the USA and Israel, in favour of Arab terrorists and the UK's pro-Palestine protestors, is counter productive, and both Burnham and Miliband will live to regret it. Israel has already closed our Embassy (Consulate?), banned several of the most vocal antisemitic Labour MP's from visiting Israel, and evicted certain UK military personnel. Who could blame them!

N.B. I am a big fan of Israeli Medjool Dates (top), and I will continue to buy them (if I can). Winter, and especially Christmas wouldn't be the same without them. If I see other Israeli grown Fruit and Vegs on sale at my supermarket, I will always choose them over other foreign producers.

We should remind ourselves that about 20% of the population of Israel are Arabs, so there's nothing new about Jews and Muslims living together, as they do in The West Bank. It's just that some like to make a political issue of it. 

Cheers!

One of the things we'd promised ourselves on returning to Brighton, was a trip to our 'local'. It seems like something one would take for granted, but last year we didn't go once!

The first thing I noticed was that there was a new girl at the bar. She looked very young (doesn't everyone?), and she dressed in the style known as 'Goth-ish'. There was also some unknown rock music playing; a little too loud.

We've been frequenting our 'local' for many years, and have always liked it; but things change. There used to be a pile of board games for customers to play, and a frame on the wall containing photos of all the visiting dogs. Both have now gone. 

There was a menu on the table offering dishes that didn't sound as if they'd ever encountered a Chef. And about 6 metres from where we were sitting were two wall-mounted TV's showing endless footage of footballers scoring goals.

The heavily tattooed man, who I presumed was the new landlord, was sitting on our side of the bar chatting to his mates.

It's still a good pub, the Goth was very nice, and the Guinness was perfect. But somehow I preferred it as it was.

 

Baba Vanga

There have always been so-called 'mystics' who've claimed to see into the future; and just occasionally they get things right; they HAVE TO once in a while.

Baba Vanga, was seen by many to be the modern Nostradamus, and she was taken very seriously by those who believe in such things; and she still is. She certainly looked the part. 

Most predictions are usually very vague, as with daily horoscopes, and can be interpreted to mean almost anything (As the Delphic Oracle once noted, 'A great army will win today's battle, etc').  

Vanga has apparently announced that during 2026, WW3 will begin, that humanity will suffer a terrifying change, and that AI will cause havoc.

Personally I am a total sceptic. Vanga, who was from Bulgaria, died back in 1996 and even though people do claim that she has always been accurate, I have yet to see any firm evidence.

It is a strange thought, that if she is right about WW3, it will have been the fault of just one man; Putin. Just one Russian megalomaniac could possibly cause so much trouble for over 8 Billion people; why has he not been eliminated?

With just four months left of this year, it'll be interesting to see how accurate Baba Vanga really was. My fingers are crossed that she was wrong.

 

Return to Blighty

We've now been back in Albion for a while; that Green and Pleasant Land, where we Brits never shall be Slaves.

Those polluting Dark Satanic Mills are now few and far between, our Coal Miners have unwittingly given us much cleaner air, and our High Streets have plenty of wonderful Vape Shops, Bookmakers, and Turkish Barbers.

OK, our government wants to be rid of farmers, and replace them with cheap housing estates, illegal immigrants, and/or Wind and/or Solar Farms. But we shall struggle on; it's in our nature!

Contrary to predictions, my big Sainsbury's store had not been stripped of bog rolls or baked beans, nor did I see trollies filled to overflowing with bottled water. In fact everything was as I left it just three months ago. Even the regular check-out ladies welcomed me back.

This may shock you, but I was extremely happy to be reunited with my favourite sliced, wholemeal, seeded bread. French baguettes are all well and good, but I do get a bit fed-up with them. A fried egg on a slice of TOASTED ENGLISH WHOLEMEAL BREAD is heaven on a plate.

I've said it before that my love affair with France is slightly fading. Not with our actual home, which I adore, but with France in general. I rather blame the EU.

Many years ago, a secretive decision was made in Brussels that much of Spain and S W France would be designated as 'Tourist Areas'; which they were. Now that the locals have all reaped the financial benefits of that tourism, and are driving big foreign cars, etc, they're beginning to rise-up against the very visitors who made them wealthy. The Spaniards are frightening-away tourists, and the lack of those imported Euros will no doubt soon begin to tell; it'll take a lot of work to tempt those tourists back. The countries gaining are Egypt, Turkey, Croatia, etc.

So, it's good to be back in our little bijou Brighton home. The Tomatoes growing out front are hopeless; they are tough-skinned and have little flavour. There are no Apples on the tree, but elsewhere my newly planted Herb Garden has done quite well. All of our 'annual bedding plants' died.

It's good to smell the sea air again.

 

Travelling drunks

I don't know what happens to some people when they travel, but many seem to search-out the nearest bar and drink themselves into stupidity.

I often used to see people on early morning ferry sailings, sitting at the bar downing pints by the dozen. I've also seen them at airports, throwing them back before their flights leave. All this leads to only one thing; drunkenness.

This idiot above is a classic example. He is 67 year old Arthur Lundeen from Arizona, who started fighting and being abusive mid-flight. Luckily a few 'hefties' were on hand to tape him up and restrain him. The flight was detoured, and the fool thrown off.

When we recently returned from France, we each had a half-bottle of red wine with our (very good) meals, but we certainly wouldn't have had more.

People such as Lundeen drink to get themselves drunk. They really should be on a 'life-time-ban' list, and kept off planes and ferries for ever. Barmen/women are also partly to blame; they should see the signs and stop serving these people.

 

Drawing

I am more inclined to amuse myself with inconsequential doodling these days, rather than with big-canvas painting. A quick sketch gives me more instant pleasure than slaving over a major painting.

An ink pen, a brush, and a tiny pot of water, is all I need, and I can keep myself amused for hours. This below is a recent example.

I always used to keep some drawing things, and some colours, in the car. If I saw something that needed drawing/painting I had all that was needed at hand. This quick sketch of Stonehenge, from back in 1983 is a classic example. It was pouring with rain, so I had to work from inside the car.

There's usually something to grab my attention, although here in central Brighton it's not always obvious.

 

The trip home

Our journey up from the South was boring but uneventful. With Kimbo's Sat-Nav it makes everything so much easier. We mostly travelled on France's wonderful motorways, so not much to look at. At one stage we did take a detour through some quite pretty villages, but I don't know quite why it was recommended. 

Driving long distances is always tedious. We stopped a couple of times to let Billy stretch his legs, and for us to have a sandwich and drink. It was a hot day.

Travelling from Dieppe to Newhaven is even worse. It's a 4 hour crossing, and other than eating, there's not a lot to do.

For our past few crossings we've decided to have a cabin (above). They are very basic with four beds, a bathroom, and, in our most recent case, a sea view. After a long car-journey, we were all very tired so a few hours sleeping was very welcome. Billy stayed 'below-decks' in the car.

I've said many times before, but suddenly driving on English roads again is quite a shock. The traffic is appalling, and the potholes even worse. Someone/somewhere needs to do something about it pronto, otherwise the roads will soon be un-useable.

 

Despite everything

This little pink and yellow Antirrhinum (Snapdragon) has battled against all odds, and is growing from the tiniest of cracks in the asphalt; and still it managed to look beautiful. When I went to photograph it, one of my 'more colourful' neighbours was giving it some water.

N.B. Since returning to England, and plugging my laptop into the UK system, I seem to be having problems with my 'comments'. I've tried everything, and Kimbo will come to have a look on Sunday. I'm sure he'll be able to find the solution. Until then.......

Dog Dumping Season.

In many parts of Europe, the end of August heralds the dog-dumping season. Many holidaymakers take their old or sick dogs with them, then leave them behind when they return home. It isn't unusual to see dogs wandering roadside looking lost. It's a horrible thing to do, but in many European countries dogs are seen very differently to how they are in the UK.

Whilst walking with Billy recently, Lady M found this little dog (below), which then followed her home. Luckily for this one, he had a collar and tag, and was simply 'lost'; having wandered too far from home. We phoned the owner, and he came to collect. The little dog had travelled about 6 Kms, and was tired and thirsty. He was very calm and friendly.

It has to be said, that when the dog's owner turned-up to collect him, neither dog nor owner seemed particularly relieved at seeing each other. 

My first experience of dumped-dogs was on the island of Majorca back in the mid-60's. Where ever we went walking, a gang of about 12 dogs would follow us, all looking as if they'd love us to take them home.

There were some lovely dogs amongst them, but we could do nothing; just feed them.

Over the years we've had lots of dogs turn-up at the house. Some were hunting dogs who'd simply got lost, but most had been dumped. We also had one cat.

 

Packing-up

My, my, how time flies.

It seems like only three months ago when we arrived back at our little bucolic Gallic hideaway. Now we are putting stuff away, packing our bags, tidying everything that needs to be tidied, and making sure that the garden is in a suitable state to face the Winter months.

We have closed-down the pool. This involved treating the water, covering everything with a strong tarpaulin, and making sure that all the mechanical stuff is mouse-proofed and frost-proofed. It's a depressing procedure, but one we've done many times before.

The cottage is very much a farm-house. The downstairs floor is always a bit messy with bits of grass cuttings, leaves, and dog hair, but we accept this as part of cottage life, and simply brush or mop when required. The big old fireplace is home to piles of messy logs, and cobwebs are just about everywhere. We are probably not as 'house-proud' as we ought to be; but there's little point. It's probably how the house has always been throughout its 300 year history. This now changes before we leave, and we make sure that everything is spotless before we lock the doors.

We always also make sure there are plenty of survival foods around when we leave; tins of paté, sardines, tuna, beans, and cassoulet, and plenty of wine/champagne. There are also plenty of logs for the fire.

We make sure that all the bedroom windows are securely closed, and we fix all the security devices. After our recent burglary we take no chances. I would like to have the place strung with 'trip-wires' attached to a shotgun trigger, but I'm told that's not allowed.

We're passing the baton to Kimbo (above) these days, he is more capable of looking after the place than we are; and he loves it here. Hopefully he, his siblings, and their children, will have many more years, or decades, of fun here.

This little old house is by far the friendliest I've ever owned; and it pains me to leave. 

It's still Ice Cream weather

 

There's something very nice about sitting outside in the sunshine, watching the world go by, and eating an Ice Cream.

So here she is, the infamous Lady Magnon, enjoying what will probably be her final 'Magnum' of 2026.

It's been a great Summer, with plenty of hot weather, plenty of swimming, and plenty of Ice Cream.

There has also been sadness, with the loss of our very good friend Margaret B. We attended her funeral this last weekend.

Our only real moan from 2026 has been the total lack of decent local restaurants. When we first came to live in this part of France there were wonderful restaurants EVERYWHERE, and they were amazingly cheap. We couldn't believe how well one could eat for next to nothing. There was still huge pride taken in one of France's most renowned gastronomic areas. Sadly this has now gone.

2026 will also be remembered for my meeting a large Wild Boar in the middle of the night. He came to within about a metre of me before running off. I've seen them before, but at a much greater distance; and in daylight.

However, all in all it's been yet another wonderful Summer. Soon we'll be back in Blighty where we're promised a cold and wet Winter; with just our memories to keep us warm.

A l'année prochaine (hopefully).

Eenie meenie miney mo

The animals graves had become a bit overgrown; in fact they had become totally swamped by a huge Fig Tree, so I removed the actual headstones and brought them back to the house. As such I can now see them every day rather than having to go to Haddock's.

Recently I was sitting looking at them (as I do), and remembering them, and it made me wonder which of the three I missed the most. Of course I miss all three of them, and loved each of them equally, but I knew that if I thought long enough, I could come to some sort of decision.

Monty was a yellow Lab' and thought of nothing but food, walks, and sleeping. He didn't seem to be particularly fond of us, he just relied on us to fill his bowl twice a day, and take him for long walks. He was a lovely dog, but very aloof.

Bok was half Black Lab' and half Border Collie. He was friendly and enthusiastic. He loved being with us.

Freddie was a Tabby; my favourite type of Cat. He was BOUGHT by Kimbo in Windsor. I never asked how much he paid for him. He was a beautiful boy, and would sit in the Quince tree for hours, looking at us. He walked across the roof at night, demanding to be let in through the Velux window. He would also often bring live Mice up to the bedroom.

So I was looking at their headstones and thinking, if I could only have had ONE of them, which one would it have been?

You may be surprised to hear that I eventually decided on Freddie. He was a lovely boy. He would come and sleep with me at night. I'd find him curled-up, fast asleep, under my chin. He was adorable.

Of course, as soon as I'd made my decision, I changed my mind and decided that Bok was the one. And then I also thought that Monty was probably the most fun to be with, so I'd choose him.

It was a ridiculous idea to try to choose one of the three. They were all equally lovely in their way. So I abandoned my silly game and thought no more about it.

 

Favourite painters.

 

As a painter myself, I have my favourites. One may be for his/her wonderful use of colour, another for deftness of hand, and a third for technique. Each 'favourite' has a quality that makes them stand out from the others.

I have chosen three painters who's work I would not only be pleased to hang on my walls, but each one of them has taught me something special. They are Matisse, Augustus John, and R B Kitaj.

Matisse (Red Studio, above) is not only admired by painters everywhere, but has also become a favourite amongst all social levels as an example of artistic simplicity; his work is 'acceptably modern', and is found on the walls of homes from the most basic to the most exotic. I have even seen reproductions of his work in children's nurseries/bedrooms.

Augustus John was a craftsman. He 'visualised' through his brushstrokes. He was an observer in paint. He had an artistic 'talent' that very few possess. A painter's painter.

And finally. R B Kitaj who was a pure 'paint magician'. Never satisfied with a single view, he combined images to tell a whole story on one page; a painterly collage of subject matter. His use of colour and line are almost unequalled. He painted to illustrate history; never to impress. He was without question a genius. 

As students of painting, and throughout our working lives, we make reference to those who have influenced us; without realising as much. This isn't plagiarism, it is a subconscious recollection of how others may have approached a similar subject, or situation. It is in homage to those who cleared the path ahead.

The Dressing Room

The new Football season has started, and when I last looked, Brighton were temporarily TOP of the Premier League. I believe Manchester have now overtaken them. It had to happen!

I've shown this video before, but it's so good I've decided to show it again. Enjoy.

 

Warning. Bad times ahead!

We are being told that Nasty Weather, and/or Putin, could reek havoc in the UK this Winter. We should stockpile bottled water, baked beans, tinned food of all sorts, and maybe even buy a camping gas stove, in case all the utilities disappear.

Frankly, if water, gas, petrol, and electricity, were all cut-off I think we'd find it quite difficult to survive, even if we did possess an industrial pack of bog paper, and a year's supply of wholemeal flour.  

We do have a BBQ, so a stock of charcoal might be a good idea. But with no power for the freezer, where would we store our chops, burgers, or snags.

Humans can live for quite a while without food, but we can't live without water. So a huge stash of bottled water would probably be advisable. Have you see the price of bottled water??? 

In the UK I live by the sea; but why is there no desalination plant nearby? Surely this can't be difficult, and they'd have the salt to sell as a by-product. There used to be a pool along the coast somewhere that used sea water that had been through a desalination plant; so these things can be done.

So, will we be stocking-up on baked beans and spaghetti hoops? I don't think so. I might buy a few multi-packs of bottled water, but otherwise I'll cross my fingers, and throw caution to the winds! 

Let El Nino do his worst!

Feral youth.

 

It's a tragedy that shocked the nation. Two serving Police Officers, PC Tom Clough, and PC Matt Blades (above), were killed by a bunch of five feral youths, speeding in the wrong direction on a motorway, in a stolen car. The five youths also died in the head-on crash, but that doesn't concern me.

The youths all had criminal records, and by all accounts were completely 'out of control'.

As if this wasn't bad enough, local masked hooligans later got together in memory of their mates, tearing about on E Bikes and taunting the police, whilst letting-off flares and shouting obscenities. 

This took place in N Yorkshire/Teesside, but it could have been anywhere. Sadly the government has made it too difficult to employ such people, so just over a million of them now live on the dole, ride around terrorising their local communities, and creating havoc. They have nothing better to do.

So, what is the solution to this ever increasing problem? Well, the easiest course of action would be to return to the days when young people could get employment on leaving school or college. Politicians created the problem; they can un-create it. When I left school in the mid 60's, there was no question that I wouldn't have been offered whatever job I applied for. We must return to those days!

The other solution might be to re-introduce some form of National Service. Not necessarily 100% military training, but maybe 50/50 social work as well. There are acres of graffiti that needs removing, vast amounts of potholes that need filling, and countless other national, and international, projects that would improve people's lives. At the same time, these people might learn some discipline. And, don't forget, in our dangerous times, conscription might not be a bad idea

Maybe, then, they wouldn't go around stealing cars, making idiotic Tik Tok videos, and needlessly taking the lives of innocent people.