Merci.

 

What a really lovely circle of 'friends' we have, here on the net.

I write a load of inconsequential nonscience, day after day, and when I have a few problems, I am offered sympathy and support by the bucket load.

When one becomes partially immobile, and lives in constant pain, one becomes crotchety and unsociable. It's not something I enjoy, but it comes with the situation.

So I wish to say THANK YOU to everyone. Your kind thoughts have meant a lot to me. Cro xx

RIP David Hockney.

 

I wouldn't call David a 'friend' because we only met on a couple of occasions. Had I lived in London rather than in France, I'm sure our friendship would have continued; but it was not to be.

We first met whilst I was at college. He was a 'visitor' to the Painting Dep't, and we seemed to get on very well (he liked the work I was doing). Later he invited me to his home in Powis Terrace, for tea. The tea itself was served by his friend Peter, wearing only a plastic apron (I had to look away). I imagine that tea was one of David's obsessions, as I remember being offered an extremely wide variety. 

Whilst there he showed me the job he was working on; a picture of two people sitting on a bench in the Luxembourg Gardens; viewed from behind. A rather strange symmetrical subject for a painting.

He'd bought a first floor flat in a terrace of Victorian houses, and when the first floor flat next door came up for sale he bought it and knocked the two into one, making a huge space.

I always liked his work, up until he began to use technology rather than paint. I owned a couple of his engravings of the poet Cavafy, which I sold at Sotheby's when I was in need of some cash.

He was England's 'most famous painter' from the mid-1960's to his recent death on the 11th June 2026, and his name became 'household'. Mention 'David Hockney' to almost anyone, and they will know who he was. Unusual for an artist.

So, RIP David. I'm glad we met each other. You looked just like your picture above when I visited your Notting Hill flat, and I remember our conversation fondly. Cro.

Day 1.

 

I came here to relax, but I still haven't been able to.

OK, I've had a few swims, but the outdoor temperature is very hot, and we've been dealing with our few minor disasters that needed to be fixed. We have mended the pool pump bit, but the car is a very different matter. It has to go to a garage; and after Kimbo flies back to Blighty, we shall be left 'High-n-Dry' without a vehicle (until it's fixed). The mechanic will pick it up, and deliver when fixed, so at least that's something! It's something to do with a 'Drive Chain' inside the engine.

On a more personal front, everything seemed to be going much better, but having to rush around, and with all the stress, I am experiencing pain once again; even though I can now actually walk.

Regardless of all our woes, we are wining, dining, and enjoying life. The BBQ has been host to some wonderful steaks. The landscape is delightful, and the constant silence is simply delicious. The area where we have lived for the past 50+ years has so much to offer that even our little problems hardly matter. 

As you can see (above), my favourite pastime is not being hampered, and at 22 C, the water is both cooling and pleasant.

It's not how we envisaged our departure and arrival, but what the hell!!!

Wish you were here!

At last we really are here. It's been a bit of a nightmare with cancelled sailings and flights all over the place, but all is now well.

This is another version of the photo I posted a week ago. It will be 33 C for the next week or so, and the pool is ready for use; the pump has been running permanently for over a week (unattended), and the water level was a bit low! I am really looking forward to my first swim (tomorrow). The water is 23 C.

No horrors. Everything electrical, plumborial, and gaseous, is working. The satellite internet connection is still operating, and the Champagne in the fridge was at the perfect temperature. The only thing that's a bit dodgy is the pool's 'pump' itself; it hesitates before coming on. Something will have to be replaced.

After an overnight Channel crossing (with cabin and ensuite), we drove almost non-stop, and arrived at home in the early afternoon. No hiccups, just a small rattling noise from the engine; which I'll have seen to next week. And Rory (our mower) won't start; he needs a new battery. 

We arrived in perfect sunshine, and, as Kimbo had left the Fridge running, cold drinks were waiting for us

Of course such journeys for an old codger are very tiring, and this was no exception. Both Lady M and I were exhausted, but in a good way!

It'll take a while for my health problems to settle, but all seems to be heading in the right direction. My extreme pains have gone, and I'm hopeful.

Actually, there is one other problem (with a friend/neighbour) but I'll report about that later.

Thank you everyone for all your recent comments. I hope you understand that in my predicament, I was unable to reply.

 

CATASTROPHE.... DISASTER.....

 

We are still in Brighton. My mobility problem became far worse and I literally couldn't walk. After a couple of sleepless nights, I was in a lot of pain and moving around was almost impossible. It was obvious that driving down through France was out of the question.

The car was packed, the tickets and hotel all booked, Billy's papers were all in order, and we were really looking forward to our trip. Then on the morning of our departure, I was struck down. Sod's Law.

Doctors were consulted, and serious pain killers requested.

Strangely, the doc' thought it was my Sciatica rather than an arthritic Hip, and some high strength Codeine tabs were prescribed. They didn't do much good.

For the  moment I am literally shuffling about, six inches at a time, and in so much pain that I can't sleep. I have an ambulance coming to collect me for a hospital appointment, so I may get some even stronger pain killers, then we can hopefully head south before the weekend. I shall NOT be driving.

Beam me Southwards Scotty

I shall be away from my laptop for a few days, en route to my other home.

So, the next time I write something on this page, it will be from here! (picture courtesy of my grandson 'Ollie', and his drone)

I'm not looking forward to the journey down, nor is Lady M, and nor (I'm sure) is Billy; it's tiresome. But arriving will be wonderful; I love my little cottage. 

Can you spot any difference between SW France and central Brighton?

This year will be the first since my mobility problems have become 'serious'; so it may well be my final visit. If I can't get around, I'll have to stay in the UK.

Kimbo has also just sent me another tempting photo; it was mid-Cherry season when he was there recently. I only have one Cherry tree (a yellow one), but there are usually plenty elsewhere. It's one of the true pleasures of the countryside in late May and early June. However, I fear we may be just too late!

 

p.s. Please excuse me if I don't reply to comments. My laptop is now packed away until about Wed/Thurs.

Enjoy yourself.

Anyone who has been lucky enough to attend a Jools Holland show will know that he always finishes his set with this song; and everyone joins in.

I first saw Prince Buster at The Metropole Hotel, here in Brighton. It must have been 1966-ish, and he was heading the bill, along with The Move; featuring Roy Wood. A very strange mix.

Anyway, here is The Prince himself, singing with Jools's band. 

Buster often claimed to have written 'Enjoy Yourself' himself, but I don't think he did. I'm sure it dates from earlier. Doris Day sang a version in 1950, when the song was attributed to Herb Magidson and Carl Sigman. Perhaps he just changed some of the lyrics, or the tune.

Eagle-eyed viewers might spot the late Rico Rodriguez shaking his maracas in the background 

 

Modern duels.

No, this didn't take place in the sugar cane plantations of the USA's deep South, but in the UK's county of Essex.

I won't say what 'cultural group' these people come from, but I will warn you to be very careful when encountering young men wearing either black or pale grey track suits, masks, and hoodies. And to keep away from most UK inner cities.

It has now become VERY common for such folk to carry Machetes hidden down their trousers. They not only attack 'their own', but will randomly attack 'locals' too.

I was reading in The Guardian about a 'Machete Duel' in Battersea, between a couple of these lads, and decided to look on YouTube for a video. I was amazed to discover that there were loads on offer. It seems that certain young men often fight these duels; no doubt over their drug businesses.

Fights take place in daylight, in open ground, at popular meeting places (such as Southend above). Onlookers are terrified, but can do nothing. It's not unlike 'Pistols at Dawn' from earlier times.

It seems that such behaviour has now become part of everyday UK life. It's not surprising that native Londoners are leaving their city for good! Who could blame them!

                                              

I was recently listening to David Lammy our 'Justice Minister' (on the radio). He was describing all the current problems these people are causing. Drugs, phone thefts, smash-n-grabs, people smuggling, antisemitism attacks, and general crimes and misbehaviour; his answer was the standard 'We need more Bobbies on the beat'. 

Well, with far too few policemen in the UK, I think we'll have to call in The Army to help-out. 

Everything's getting out of hand.

 

Haddock's evolution

When I first bought Haddock's, it was covered in Brambles and hadn't been cultivated for decades. I was told that it been the original veg' garden for our cottage.

I decided to have the area 'rotovated', then, after clearing away all the bits of Bramble roots etc, I split the whole plot into three sections (below). Rotovating was probably the wrong thing to do, all the Brambles became 'minced', and every tiny piece of minced root wanted to re-grow. 

The ground eventually became workable, but required a lot of cleaning & clearing. I soon also discovered that my crops were being eaten by wildlife, so the area had to be fenced.

I changed the layout, planted fruit trees, and built a Chicken run at the top end. I also fenced all around. It became animal proof, and the Hens provided eggs. It was a huge improvement.

Then much later I decided to establish a four section rotation system, which was much easier to work, and provided even more crops than before. I even kept a yearly record of what had been grown where.

Suddenly I had too much of everything, so I began to preserve the excess. My cupboards filled rapidly. I loved both the process of growing, and the process of preserving.

I also planted Vines around the exterior fencing; adding yet another crop. I had embraced 'efficiency'.

Then about 8 years ago, crops suddenly started to die. This coincided with my neighbour using his adjoining land as a 'land-fill-site'; inviting all his friends to bring their detritus to help build-up the level to about a metre above that of Haddock's; held back by an old stone wall.

Things got worse. I could see strange liquids seeping towards Haddock's, and an Oak Tree on his land suddenly died. I was worried.

A year later I admitted defeat, and quit. Something was seriously wrong, and my crops were all dying.

His dogs also killed my four remaining Chickens. I was seriously depressed. Haddock's had been my raison d'etre, and it had been destroyed.

Now, about 8 years later, I simply mow there just to keep it looking tidy, and this year I intend to plant some Peach and Cherry trees. We shall see what happens!

I miss those good times, but these days, as I am 'incapacitated', I wouldn't be able to cultivate the land anyway.

 

Red Ed Miliband

Ed Miliband, our wonderful Energy Secretary, has allegedly 'signed-up' to some make-believe world, where we are slapped around the face, and told what we can, and can't, do! We're being told how to travel, how to warm ourselves in Winter, and even how to eat properly. He has signed-up to some 'legally binding' targets, that must be met by 2040. It's like being at some Politburo run Junior School.

This is the man himself (below) caught eating a suspiciously non-Kosher Bacon sandwich. I enjoy Bacon sandwiches myself, but at least for atheists they are not prohibited. 

Miliband intends to make us all replace our perfectly good Gas boilers with very expensive 'Heat Pumps'. We have plenty of Oil/Gas in the North Sea, but he refuses to extract it. Instead, we buy our gas from the more sensible Norway; and we will be buying Oil from Russia again very soon.

He also wants us all to drive those wretched Electric Cars. No thank you.

He is insisting that we all eat 25% less meat (including, I presume, Bacon sandwiches). I'm certainly NOT going to be told by someone like Miliband what I can or cannot eat. If I wish to throw a few Steaks or Chops on the BBQ; I will.

And he also wants us to consume 25% less dairy products; Milk, Yoghurt, Cheese, Cream, etc. Is he kidding? Why do they hate our Farmers so much!

'Nanny State' politics may be fine in the Labour Party Junior Common Room, but we live in the real world, and not in some student-friendly Vegan Café.

The only respite we have against all these nonsensical Socialist policies, is that Labour will soon be booted-out, and all their silly policies reversed. 

Let's Make England Work again, Manufacture again, Invest again, Drill again, and even Eat again.

I'm thinking of having MEWMIDE hats made as I write.

 

Celebration; French style.

Some may remember that there was a Football game in Budapest recently between the English team Arsenal, and the French team Paris St-Germain. PSG won, and in traditional fashion their fans set light to cars and rioted.

They don't only do this to celebrate Football games, they also set light to cars to welcome the New Year. On the 1st Jan people actually listen to The News, to hear that year's tally. I think they like it to be greater than that of the previous year.

It's a strange way to celebrate, but in France we're used to it. Different cultures have different traditions; I think this one seems to be practiced mostly by N Africans. If you search for PSG players, you will understand what I mean.

During the 'celebrations', one person died, and about 460 were arrested. 71 Towns and Cities were affected.

Meanwhile, a few Arsenal fans were arrested in London, after their usual drunken behaviour to mourn their defeat. 

A good time was had by all.

p.s. Why is it that Rugby Union, Rowing, and Cricket fans don't do such stupid things. I suppose it's simply that they're better behaved.

 

When Popularity becomes a Pain.

The Cotswolds is one of England's most beautiful, and desirable, areas to live. People often compare its architecture to that of Périgord, in France.

The area has recently been made even more popular by droves of 'Celebs' quitting Sadiq Khan's Socialist, Hamas-loving, London, for a safer, less crime-ridden, and friendlier, place to live.

However, as nice a place as it is, with its beautiful old stone-built homes, it does come with ONE HUGE disadvantage;.... droves of bloody, camera-toting tourists. It's become a 'theme park'.

Many decades ago, when my people had a cottage on the North Welsh border, we would always stop en route to buy Pork Pies, etc, at a particularly good butcher's shop in the village of Broadway.

Broadway was, and probably still is, the most iconic Cotswold village. Yes, I suppose we were also 'tourists' of a sort, but we didn't go around peering into people's windows, or eating sandwiches whilst sitting on the pavement. We stopped, did our shopping, and continued on our way. They would hardly have noticed us come and go, other than a small amount of money we contributed to their economy.

These days, coachloads of foreign tourists are ushered around in large groups, treating the area as if it is some sort of huge plastic Disneyland theme park.

If I owned, and lived in, one of the cottages above, I would be absolutely bloody furious.

Squirming...

 

Poor old Nicola, her hubby, Peter Burrell, has been arrested! 

I first mentioned the dubious goings-on in the Sturgeon household back on 21st February 2023, in my piece entitled 'Thank goodness'.

The fragrant Ms Sturgeon was on Laura Kuenssburg's Sunday morning BBC show yesterday, in which she stated that she had absolutely no idea that her hubby had been stealing Hundreds of £Thousands from the SNP's funds. Well, she wouldn't would she!

His biggest purchase was this huge Camper Van (seen from space), which cost over £120.000. It was parked at his parent's home (above), where Nicola claims not to have noticed it. On visiting her in-laws, she says she never saw it. Well, it is only the size of a London Bus.

Amongst other things he bought for himself were a Pencil Sharpener for £110, a set of Salt and Pepper grinders for £2,600, a Model Helicopter for £550, a Beatles souvenir Fountain Pen for £1,500, and another Skywalker Pen for £4,200, and a Telescope for £1,200. It's a very long list.

Ms Sturgeon claims not to have known anything about where all this spending money came from, even though he had a history of being 'light-fingered'. I believe he allowed about £1,500 to accidently fall into his pockets whilst working for Alex Salmond in the 1990's.

The two questions that all sensible people are now asking are 1, How on earth did he think he'd get away with it?, and 2, How did Sturgeon not notice that £400,000 worth of goodies suddenly appeared at their marital home?

What I do know, is that if Lady M came home with a £120,000 Camper Van, I'd feel inclined to ask where she got the money. Wouldn't you?

Some wag has suggested that he bought the Camper Van to stash all his 'swag'. They could be right.

Ms Sturgeon has now moved down from Scotland to London. Sensible wee gal. Scottish Independence no longer appeals!

A Tricky Question....

 

Now, this might sound like a really silly question, but it's one of the great debates in British politics.

Which of these TWO PROPOSALS would you prefer; or even sounds the more sensible?

1. The UK buys oil from Russia, so that Putin has plenty of money to spend on killing people in Ukraine.

2. We drill our own oil in the North Sea (of which we have lots), giving work to thousands of UK workers.

Honestly, this really IS a serious question, and it explains perfectly the difference between the UK's Communist Socialist Party, and the UK's Tory Party. One would prefer to financially support a nasty genocidal regime, whilst the other prefers to support their own country's economy.

I really don't know what more I can say! The whole country is STUNNED!

Which way would you go; pro-Putin, or pro-your own country? Tricky eh........

Jet Harris

Some people may remember Jet Harris.

I've just found this video of Cliff and The Shadows, showing my old friend Jet on bass.

Jet is the small blonde. He was booted out of The Shadows in 1962, after having become unpredictable and uncooperative; I think through drink and drugs. He later teamed-up with the band's drummer Tony Meehan.

He was a nice enough person, but one always felt that there was something going on inside his head that you didn't want to know about. We were good friends, then one day he suddenly disappeared.

Cliff Richard, Hank Marvin, and Bruce Welsh are still around, but Jet died in 2011. The band's drummer Tony Meehan died back in 2005.

Their music seems very 'mild' these days, but back in the 60's it was the coolest sound on earth (well, almost).

 

Cute Kitten.

I'm under attack again from left-wing woke lovies at the moment, so, as is my wont, I am offering this cute kitten video to see if they can possibly find some idiotic lefty thing to moan, or say about it.

 

In the Summertime.

In 1970 Lady M and I were still at college, where one of our good friends was a lovely Greek girl who would boil-up Greek Coffee in a little pot (in the studio), and play this record over and over again.

It now totally represents that year of our studies (our degree year), and brings back so many memories.

So here is Mungo Jerry (Ray Dorset singing), and their HUGE HIT; In the Summertime. Enjoy.

 

It's just not fair.

The West Midlands Police really are very mean. This nice young man, in the video, was out for a bicycle ride, when, out of the blue, he was savagely attacked by a Policeman, and pushed off his bike.

Apparently he had just found a bag, and was no doubt en route to the Police Station to hand it in.

Well, you can just imagine his surprise when the bag was found to contain a hand-gun. Where on earth did that come from??? You can see the shock on his face.

I'm sure they'll try to accuse him of being naughty, and arrest him for possession of a firearm. He looks like such a nice young man too. 

To add insult to injury, they're now going to make him spend five years in prison; just for finding someone else's bag, which happened to contain a gun.

Is there no justice in the world !!!

 

NIMBY?

I know I've mentioned this before, but this time it's even more personal.

First it was at my people's house in Shropshire where a 'Traveller' threatened to do serious damage to me, after I'd discovered him moving onto a small field at the bottom of our garden. It was a very unpleasant experience; he was a BIG man, and he wasn't kidding.

Then after this recent long Bank Holiday weekend, I see that some of them have moved onto a field in our lovely old Sussex village (above).

West Chiltington is a very pleasant, quiet (and expensive), village. It is filled with very beautiful old houses, and pristine gardens. The residents are mostly good honest middle-class professional folk, who care deeply about their surroundings. It is regarded as one of the most desirable villages in Sussex. This very pleasant house (below) is typical of the houses in West Chiltington (it was ours).

Then along comes this bunch of law-breaking, so-called, 'Travellers', who put two fingers up at authority, and dump tarmac over a large area, put up fences, and illegally invite their pals to buy a 'plot'.

This MUST NOT BE ALLOWED.

Sadly, no-one is prepared to go in and boot them out, and force them to return the field to its original condition.

Just imagine if YOU owned that lovely old farmhouse in the top right of the top photo. One minute you have all the peace and quiet you desire (and have paid through the nose for), the next you have a bunch of criminals moving their caravans up against your back garden. That is an expensive house too!!!

I AM aware that it makes no difference whether or not the location is 'desirable' or not, but somehow because I lived there, and knew many of the residents, it does seem particularly outrageous.

If the Police can't deal with these people, then bring in The Army. They have all the heavy moving kit they need, and could tow away any vehicles within minutes. And I'm sure there's a local 'Crusher' not too far away.

In another part of Sussex, in Clayton (above), the little darlings have even invaded the local Cricket Pitch. Is there no end to their disgusting behaviour !!!

If the authorities simply do nothing, these scumbags will see it as a sign of weakness, and move on to yet another field or Cricket pitch; and do the same again. Someone needs to act AT ONCE.

 

Cheese rolling.

'The Silly Season' is just starting in the UK, when the ridiculous becomes the norm. We Brits (of course) don't see these things as ridiculous, but simply a part of everyday life.

One such example is the Cheese Rolling at Cooper's Hill in Brockworth, Gloucestershire. The good people of the village (and from just about anywhere else) throw themselves down a VERY steep hill, chasing a CHEESE. The person who reaches the bottom first (in one piece) wins the Cheese. All very simple.

There's little more to say about this, other than to declare this year's winner to be German Tom Kopke; who I believe has now celebrated his THIRD win.

Are the Germans as bonkers as we are?

Oh, I do love to be beside the seaside....

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky.

Ah; Summer. Tis the season when we're so happy to live by the sea. To walk along the sea's edge, let the cooling water splash over our bared feet, and enjoy the peace and quiet of a sunny summer's day.

The only problem is that as soon as the temperature rises above 20 C, and they have a day off, half of London thinks the same thing, and they flock down to the coast in their bloody thousands. (Do enlarge photo)

Our very central home runs parallel to the main street from the station to the sea, and even though there are hoards of sun-worshippers heading for the beach with their sun hats and multi-coloured towels; we see none of them. Miraculously our little street remains very quiet and un-sullied.

We stay at home and walk the dog. The 'Rest Garden' is usually very peaceful and I sit with Billy in the shade of a big tree, and let all those tourists eat thir ice-creams, and roast themselves, on the over-crowded beach.

Oh, I do love to be beside the seaside.....

 

Service without any smile.

It's been very hot, sunny, and extremely bright.

My old shades had become a bit cloudy, and had seen better days. I needed new ones.

I had a bit of a look around certain shops likely to sell such things, and couldn't find what I wanted. Some came close but were expensive.

So, what does a chap do when he's at a loss? He goes to Amazon (of course).

The choice was extensive (as you can imagine) and I trolled through page upon page of over-fancy and over-priced glasses until I came across what I wanted. Some simple, polarized, affordable shades, that just look as 'ordinary' as possible.

I ordered them at about 5.30 pm on the 24th, and they dropped through my letter box at 12 noon on the 25th. Hand delivered, nicely packed, no fuss.

And at about £18 for two pairs (inc Post), I shan't panic if (at some time in the future) I lose a pair, or they break.

Thank you Amazon. You're a good'un.

 

Just another morning....

 

I'd been putting some dog 'unmentionables' in the bin, when I was approached by a man of about 35 years old.

"Excuse me Sir, is your name 'Hutchinson' by any chance?". He asked.

"No, I'm afraid not" I replied.

"I'm looking for someone, and I thought you looked a bit like him" he said.

"Not me" I replied "It would be extremely surprising if I was him; with all the number of people around!"

"Well, I thought I'd ask anyway; you do look very much like the person I'm looking for".

"Have your tried any of the Social Media sites, such as Facebook?" I suggested.

"Yes, I've done all that, but nothing".

"Well, I wish you luck with your search" I said, whilst turning to go.

"He's my BLOODY FATHER" he suddenly screamed at me, "and I haven't seen him since my 12th birthday".

Only then did I realise that he was possibly an escapee from Broadmoor. I put Billy on his lead and we walked slowly away, just occasionally looking around to see that he wasn't following me with a Machete. 

Sometimes I feel quite anxious about strangers. This was one such occasion!

Mrs T's 'Care in the Community' never worked, and it never will. Bring back those 'Homes for the mentally disturbed'.

Unite the Kingdom.

'Unite the Kingdom' is a right-wing UK protest group, founded by rabble-rouser Tommy Robinson.

Robinson is quite an unsavoury character, with a string of criminal convictions, assaults, and bankruptcy to his name.

I'm not quite sure exactly when this protest took place; but it says 8 months ago.

What amazes me are the number of people present. Could it be AI generated? 

It comes courtesy of The Guardian (a piss-poor Lefty rag), who wouldn't normally wish to make Robinson seem more popular than he actually is.

I suppose I'll have to accept that the film is genuine.

'Unite the Kingdom' is basically anti illegal immigrant, anti Islam, anti woke-lefty, and anti just about everything to the left of Genghis Khan.

Presuming that the film really is genuine, I'm amazed by how popular this movement is. OK, we're all aware of the strong feelings nationally towards certain troublesome groups, but I had no idea it was THIS strong.

I'm hopeless at estimating crowd numbers, but my guess is 'LOTS'.

 

Lucky Bast*rd

 

Yesterday was the day for my car's (Debi) annual Service, Wash, and MOT.

I had left her with the garage at 8 am, and was advised to collect her at around 5 pm.

At about 4.45 pm I ordered my return taxi, and we set off for the garage. We had hardly gone 20 metres, when the taxi driver pulled-up sharply, jumped out of the car, and ran round to the front.

I wondered what the heck he was up to.

He came back to the car holding a big 'wadge' of bank notes. He had spied them from a distance, and he wasn't going to leave them lying there. There must have been hundreds of £'s; if not thousands (probably drug money).

With his new-found wealth, I was half expecting him to offer me the taxi-ride free of charge; but no, it cost me £20.

Above shows Debi: Serviced, Motted, and Washed. She's now ready for all that life can throw at her.

Look how clean she is! Boootiful.

Precious Keys

Like most people, I dread the idea of losing my keys.

My French house keys are securely guarded. I protect them with my life. They are NEVER away from their place of safe-keeping. Touch them, and you die!

So, it was with much soul-searching that I reluctantly handed over TWO of them to Kimbo, who will pop over for a short stay in a week or so. I put them on a big yellow tag, and he's bolted them to his own house keys.

This (below) is official proof of my handing them over. 

Whilst at the cottage Kimbo suggested that he would like to mow the lawns, and he needed the key to Rory (the mower), and to Rory's Garage.

As you can imagine, I was very hesitant to part with my keys; but he had me in an arm-lock, and I was forced to hand them over.

The problem now is 'Will I ever see them again'? He has been given a very stern warning about looking after them, and where to leave them when he returns.

Last year I entrusted my keys (against my better judgement) to a person who I know very well. She lost them, and I was forced to take an angle-grinder to several padlocks. Never again.

We took the above photo as definitive PROOF that they were handed over.

I shall now be a bag of nerves until we are reunited.

 

Fun at the expense of.......

I've always liked political cartoons; of ALL political persuasions.

I thought this one (below) was particularly good. It was originally entitled 'Wally and Vomit', but is, of course, of our fragrant Prime Minister Keir Starmer and his deputy PM David Lammy. Superb. 

If you are English, or know anything about English politics, you will appreciate what a wonderful portrayal it is.

It has nothing to do with their politics, or even their party allegiances, it is simply a superb bit of comedy, in the tradition of Gillray, Rowlandson, or even Ronald Searle.

Every time I look at it, it makes me laugh (with apologies to anyone who voted for them).

 

Confit de Canard

I'm sure you already know, but Confit de Canard is simply preserved Duck.

It is usually made from Ducks that were fattened for the making of Foie Gras, and the legs and thighs were later preserved in their own fat (of which there was lots). The pieces of Duck are placed in large copper pans, covered with Duck Fat, then gently simmered for a few hours, before being placed in large earthenware 'crocks' and covered with the fat. Like this, the Confit would keep for a long time.

These two frozen Duck Legs, in a vacuum pack (below), were bought at Aldi for £2.99. It was sold as 'Duck a l'Orange', and comes with a separate pack of Orange flavoured sauce. The sauce is best kept for another recipe (I used it for a sweet-n-sour Pork dish), and the legs roasted as one would any other Confit. 

Confit de Canard is usually very expensive, so you can imagine my delight at finding these at Aldi. OK, they come from China and not from France, but I'm not complaining. They taste pretty much the same.

I served them with some roasted small Jersey Royal Potatoes (superb), and a bit of Greenery.

I'm allowing my freezer to empty itself bit by bit at the moment, but when we return from France in September, I shall make sure that there are several packs in there.

If you search for Confit de Canard online, you will see how expensive it normally is. These are just £1.50 per person/serving.

Verdict: 8/10. It doesn't have the intensity of French Confit, but it comes very close.

N.B. I DO NOT work for Aldi, nor am I a shareholder. I am simply a new devotee. I keep discovering new and exciting things. May that continue !!!

Bolt-hole

It seems a very long time ago since I bought this cottage (1978-ish?). At the time it was just a one room, derelict, roofless, floorless, ancient stone built cottage, in need of TOTAL restoration.

It's about 300 years old, and looks-out over perfectly tranquil agricultural land, and untroubled woods. When I first looked inside, I discovered a lovely old fireplace and a carved stone sink, I knew I had to have it. The first family to have lived there, would have done so under the reign of Louis XV.

We lived about 300 metres away, at the time, in a big old farmhouse, and the tiny ruin was owned by my next door neighbours. We had a chat over a glass of Pastis, and a deal was done.

It didn't cost me a lot, but since then I'd hate to think how much I've spent on bringing it to the comfortable state it's in today. If you close your eyes and picture an ideal French country cottage, this is probably what it would look like.

I've lived in big houses, tiny broom-cupboard-sized flats, and that extensive French farmstead, but nothing has been as pleasant to live-in as this little cottage. It has a warm, friendly, atmosphere, that cannot be created or 'designed'. As soon as we step inside, it gives us a huge hug!

Since buying the house we have added-on at one end, brought-in water and electricity, built our 'tower', installed the pool, bought more land, built a covered terrace, planted fruit trees, established Haddock's (our now-no-longer-used veg' garden), and made the house comfortable, whilst keeping its rusticity. This (below) is our sitting/dining room.

Almost everything we've done to the cottage has involved local craftsmen, and artisans. Hand made floor-tiles in the house and tower, timber cut specially at a local sawmill for most of our building work, and beautiful hand-made peg-tiles for the tower roof. As much as possible I've tried to make the cottage feel as it would have centuries ago (other than the water and electricity). 

This year I intend to put a hand-rail on the stairs (I'm getting doddery), and plant a few more Peach trees. After that I think I'll leave it to others; I feel that I've done my bit!

More Seagulls

I expect that all coastal-dwellers have the same love/hate relationship with their Seagulls as I do.

They are very beautiful birds, but they are also aggressive. They steal chips from the hands of al fresco tourist diners, and will swoop down on almost anyone who they take a dislike to. They tease Billy too!

This one above was very friendly yesterday morning. Someone had put some (what looked like) dog croquettes on top of the tomb, and he/she was scoffing the lot!

I've painted Gulls on numerous occasions; they featured often in my work. This simple sketch below I could have sold several times over. I was even encouraged to make it into a Postcard for the town's seaside tourist shops. Not really my thing!

 

I think we have a Seagull nesting on the roof. We can hear Seagull-style rave-parties going on at night. My neighbour has some scaffolding up at the moment, so I'll ask him to have a look. I probably wouldn't ask them to move on, but it would be nice to know.

The Three (or more) Stooges.

As expected, Starmer will go. It's just a miracle that he's lasted so long.

There seems to be three main candidates who are eager to replace him.

Andy Burnham (known as The King of the North) is presently The Mayor of Greater Manchester. He is popular for being popular. Now all he needs is to find a parliamentary seat, which may prove more tricky than he thinks with Uncle Nigel's boy against him. Hmmmm.

The adorable Angela Rayner (above with Burnham) is a firebrand. Her background is best forgotten, as is her small £800,000 Brighton second-home flat. She seems to have got away with dodging £40,000 of the £70,000 Stamp Duty on its purchase; although I believe she has since paid-up. Many will remember that the fragrant Angela had to resign over the scandal. Politically she comes from the same mould as Comrade Corbyn.

And thirdly there's cheeky-chappie little Wes Streeting (above with Mandy). His grandfather, Bill, was a career criminal, and friend of the Kray Brothers, who spent a lot of time in prison. His grandmother, who aided and abetted her husband, was also imprisoned, and gave birth to Wes's mother (in handcuffs) whilst in Holloway; where she had shared a cell with Christine Keeler. 

So, take your pick. I doubt if any of them will undo the damage done by Starmer and Co, but as long as they don't make matters worse we shall have to tolerate one of them for a while.

Verdict: 

Burnham, probably the best of a poor bunch. 4½/10

Rayner, the 'party gal' with history. Late nights, beer, and Corbyn style lunacy. 2/10

Streeting, a twinkle-eyed wet rag. 0/10

p.s. Of course there COULD BE a 4th contestant. How about Wes and Starmer's chum Lord 'Mandy' Mandelson throwing his hat into the ring? 

 

Yawn.......

 

It's that time of year again. People in silly clothes, perform awful songs, in front of 'over the top' flashing lights and smokey backgrounds. Yes, it's The Eurovision Song Contest time.

Apart from the awful songs, the competition has become overly political in recent years. This year it has actually become RACIST as well.

Several countries have refused to take part on account of Israel participating. Can it be because 1.200 innocent Israelis were slaughtered by terrorists on October 7th ? Or maybe it's because in their retaliation, those who were attacked actually managed to give Hamas a bloody nose !

Strangely, I don't remember any country staying away because Germany (the worst WAR-CRIMINALS of the 20th C) were taking part. But perhaps they didn't see the HOLOCAUST's 6 Million deaths as racist genocide.

As far as the 'singing' is concerned, it was the usual round of shouting, dancing, and awful costumes. The worst of which must have been Albania, who's song was about his dead mother, and Greece that was simply mad. The UK, of course, came last; it's traditional.

I think we've all had enough. Time to call it a day !

N.B. Boy George (above) who (for unknown reasons) was representing San Marino, was eliminated at once. In that outfit, I'm not surprised.

Bring us sunshine

A couple of days ago it would have been Eric Morecambe's 100th birthday.

I can't give you any details about these children, other than they obviously love singing.

Just look at that little boy at the back on the right; he's having the time of his life!.

If this doesn't make you happy; I don't know what would.