Strange Summer.

It's been a strange summer on many fronts, mostly due to the very high temperatures, and the lack of rain.

This has had a hugely detrimental effect on crops and wildlife. Our Apples are all small, our Peaches dried-up, the pomegranates are pathetic, and our grapes have, inadvertently, become raisins.  By contrast, our Fig crop has been huge; but they never fail.

At this time of year there is usually a constant drone from Crickets in the grass, and from Cicadas in the trees. This year there is silence. Nor do we have many Wasps, and absolutely no Hornets, about which we are not complaining.

I have not seen a single large green Lizard, and only ONE Praying Mantis (above).

In the fields, the Sunflower heads are very small, and I imagine that the crops will be miserable. 

Elsewhere the Chestnuts are beginning to swell inside their husks, and, as with the Walnuts, I expect the crops will be OK; they are both deep-rooted and can probably find enough moisture.

There have been no mushrooms, so my Cèpes will, this Winter, come from expensive tins (of which I've bought several)!

The big storm of July 17th was vicious and destructive, but the short burst of torrential rain soon evaporated, and did no good. What we really need are a few days of constant gentle rain.

We've just had a small storm last night. Lots of bangs, flashes, and strong wind; but hardly any rain.

Will this now become our regular annual weather pattern? That remains to be seen.

 

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be.

OK, this picture might be a rose-tinted vision of an England in earlier times, but it's very much how I remember my native Surrey village of Lingfield, as a child.

I was born in 1946, and lived for the first 14 years of my life in my small Surrey village, where almost everyone knew who I was; and greeted me with a cheery 'hello'. I always felt very much a part of village life. We all knew the village 'Bobby', the District Nurse, the Vicar, the Butcher, the Baker, and everyone else of importance.

I had my little red bike, and would cycle wherever I wanted. I would go fishing, watch the village Cricket team, or visit friends. My world was only limited by how far I could cycle. Freedom was total.

There was a village pond, and a village memorial to those who'd died in the two German wars. There was a lovely old church, where I sang in the choir. And there was a village Silver Band who rejected my appalling lack of skill on the Cornet.

In Autumn there was a huge Horticultural Show in the village hall, for adults and children alike, and on November 5th we held one of the biggest local Bonfire Night parades in the area. There was also a very active WI.

It was how an English village should be. Very little crime, other than one wayward Irish family who lived on a council estate, and couldn't help themselves. And lots of friendliness from almost everyone else. The only 'foreigners' I remember were a Canadian family; the Beardmores. The father had been sent to work in England, and the son was at Prep' School with me. 

My only complaint about the present state of the village is it's proximity to Gatwick. These days (not when WE lived there) there is constant airplane noise, which has spoilt much of its appeal. The last time I returned there, I could hardly believe how much noise there was.

Our village here in France used to have the same feel about it, but even that has now changed. The camaraderie that came with peasant farming has gone, and those same people now sit at home and wait for their EU cheque to arrive. The 'newcomers' are mostly NOT country folk, and often have no idea how to behave.

 

Where are they now?

 

Recently we were 11; now we are 2. The family are now all back at their various homes (or very nearly).

The Cherub (above), his big brother Boo Boo, and their dad Wills are back in Thailand after a week doing dangerous things in the Swiss Alps, and safer things in Zurich.

Tenpin, and son Finn, are back in Brisbane after a week or so in Rome, Naples, and on The Amalfi Coast. Her No1 son, GHG, was at home in Oz, working.

Kimbo and Suzie have been back in Brighton for a while (he's had more promotion). Not quite sure where Suave Harve is (possibly back in Oxford), and I think Ollie is in London, before starting Uni at Nottingham in September.

That just leaves US. We're still in France, relaxing, and suddenly feeling very 'alone'.

It's the little things.....

Ever since I built our pool's 'Pump House', I knew there was something about it that wasn't quite right.

I had copied the local style as honestly as I could, used hand-made tiles for the roof, and even commissioned a couple of traditional pinnacles to finish it off. But the door always looked wrong. 

I knew where the problem lay, and this year (at last) I decided to do something about it. You may find this ridiculous!

Traditionally, in this area, outbuildings of all sorts have a rustic lime-wash border around all the openings; doors, windows, etc. Originally I think it was designed to deter insects, but I very much doubt if it did.

As the Pump House was designed to look like an old miniature Pigeon Tower, the lime 'paint' needed to look as if it had been there for decades; it needed to looked 'washed away'. I had to build up slowly, and over several days. Had it looked perfectly new it would have been worse than before.

So now, as we enjoy our wine-o-clock drinkies, overlooking the pool, I see how it always should have looked, with its ageing white stripe around the door; and I am content.

It's amazing how something as trivial as a white stripe can actually become so important. NOW, it looks RIGHT! We built the pool in 2004; it's been a long time coming.

 

Encornet Géant

I've always been a bit wary of buying fresh Octopus or Giant Squid. I'm not confident about cooking it, and always fear that I might end-up with something resembling a Wellington Boot.

So, having recently discovered this, chilled, ready-cooked, pack of 'Giant Squid' tentacles, and seen that it only needs a few minutes heating time, I knew it had my name written all over it. Whether such things are available where you live, I have no idea.

The pack suggested various heating methods. Frying pan with Olive Oil for 2 mins. Air Fryer for 5 mins (we don't have one). Microwave for 2 mins (No, no, no). Or simply to eat it as it is; it's already cooked.

I would liked to have grilled it over the BBQ, but lighting it just for this seemed silly. So I followed the advice on the pack and fried it for a couple of minutes, just to give it a bit of 'colour'.

I have to say that it was very good, but perhaps a tad more 'chewy' than I would have liked. It didn't have the charred flavour I would have liked too, but if there were more of us I'd buy several packs and light the BBQ.

It was served with a tiny squeeze of Lemon juice, and very lightly salted.

Verdict: 8/10. I WILL buy it again, but the next time I will certainly BBQ it.

 

Weather warning

I'm not going to say that I don't like hot, sunny, weather; because that would be untrue.

But what I really don't enjoy are the relentless, day after day temperatures in the top 30's C, that force us to stay indoors for most of the day. 

I always get-up early anyway (5 am), and my 'Office Work' is usually finished by 7 am-ish. The rest of the early morning is then given to working outside before the worst of the 'Canicule' arrives. There is always sweeping, pool cleaning, and general tidying to be done. At lunchtime we always eat outdoors, but in the shade. Most of the afternoon is then spent on Siesta, Crosswords, or a good Book; all within the thick walls of our old stone cottage.

We wear hats, and shades, we drink litres of liquids, and we throw ourselves into the pool regularly.

People moan about the heat, and rightly so (my own favourite temperature is 25 C). But as with so many annoying things in life, it's all a question of management. Plan your day, pinpoint the hottest hours, and work around it.

There is little point in the government warning us about 'Summer Temperatures' (above), we all know they're coming, and we should all make our own arrangements. We don't need Little Miss Nanny France to tell us.

Enjoy the temperatures that suit you; and avoid the one's that don't. Simple.

p.s. Starting from today, it's going to be SUPER HOT again for some while!!!

 

Mr Arday

So much has been written about this scoundrel, that there's almost nothing more to say.

I have had very few 'jobs' in my life where a CV was required. They were for positions at The London Stock Exchange, and two teaching jobs; both in prestigious private schools. I told the truth (which in my case was quite basic), and I was accepted on merit. I didn't feel the need to invent sporting prowess, charitable exploits, or even early-age mental disabilities.

The most shocking aspect of Mr Arday's numerous deceptions are not his own fantasies, but the inability of the Cambridge University's Appointments Board to see past such an obvious display of LIES. Some of his claimed exploits even happened before he was born!

We all know that Cambridge has recently become a hotbed of woke equality, and dumbing-down. But to put transparently woke diversity ethics before the good name of Cambridge University, is tantamount to TREASON.

Mr Arday will now disappear (unless he writes a book, saying how it was all a big social experiment, in the style of Frank Abagnale jr), but the Dungaree-wearing lovies who interviewed and employed him should be investigated and SACKED.

The University's 'Diversity Poster Boy' has been seen for what he is. An absolute FRAUD.

Experimental Chutney

Thanks to 'Le Pré', I have added some Fig Chutney to my list of this year's conserves.

It is very similar to the Fig and Lemon Jam, but with a chopped red Onion, Raisins, red wine Vinegar, dark brown Sugar, and some spices etc.

Frankly it's a much better conserve to make, as it will be far more popular. Pickles and Chutneys in our house are consumed very quickly. 

 

Experimental Jam

Every year we have so many Figs that simply go to waste; I have three VERY BIG trees. We do, of course, eat a lot of them, but the rest either fall to the ground, or become Wasp and Hornet food.

So, I decided to make some Fig and Lemon Jam.

Last year I made Fig Jam, but it was too sweet, so this time I added the juice of a whole Lemon, plus some very thin shavings from half of another. I made just enough to fill two jars, plus a little bit left-over for breakfast.

Firstly I must pat my own back, because it set perfectly. And secondly it does taste very good. I can already imagine myself having it with toast on winter's mornings in Brighton.

Verdict: 8/10. The thin shavings of Lemon are not as soft as I'd like. Otherwise OK.

Our new PM.

 

As you might already know, we have a new Prime Minister in the UK. Here he is (above) with some people who are encouraging him to move to the USA (at least, I presume that's what their placards are saying).

He was only recently elected as an MP, and immediately assumed that he had some divine right to lead his party, and the country (politically). The old PM (Starmer) immediately resigned, and Handy Andy took over. Simple as that.

Over the past two weeks, since his heavenly inauguration, he's been wandering about, shaking hands and kissing babies, so now he's exhausted, and he's gone off on holiday. Well, you would, wouldn't you!

He's made a few instant policy decisions, including letting perverts and dangerous criminals out of prison early, so they've got more space for TV Licence dodgers and speeding motorists. He's also having a go at those same motorists, by making older cars more expensive to run, and older drivers despair. I'm even considering my own future on the road, although how I'd cope I really don't know.

His first couple of weeks in power are not giving us much confidence; unless you're a criminal, an illegal immigrant, or on the dole. If you lead a normal working life, with a home, a mortgage, and a car, then he's coming for your money! And if you're an OAP, he'll definitely make sure you are poorer.

The one good thing that he's promised, is to look into the whole 'Care Homes', Carers, Caring, business. The whole kaboodle is run by a bunch of money-grubbing shysters, who have all become multi-millionaires, whilst their elderly clients become penniless. The whole system really needs to be given a good shake-up. We now wait to see if Andy's concern is just 'words'. The present system is a criminal bloody DISGRACE. If he can sort-out the worst of these scoundrels; he'll have my support.

I'm looking forward to the next round of PMQ's in September, to see how the new boy fares against Kemi. She's a tough cookie, and takes no prisoners. I just hope (unlike the previous numpty) that he actually ANSWERS her questions.

Radio.

 

I always listen to the radio through the night, intermittently between dropping in and out of sleep. I have a single 'earphone' so as not to disturb Lady M.

For some reason, known only to themselves, the BBC have stopped broadcasting to Europe, so I am now limited to LBC Radio in English.

LBC is a Talk Radio station. The same old presenters, discuss the same old subjects, with the same old callers. When I came back to France in June, I could hardly believe that nothing seemed to have changed, or advanced, over the past year. It was like listening to constant repeats. 

The quality of mobile phones varies enormously, so many calls are almost indecipherable. The callers themselves are varied, and go from highly intelligent to completely bonkers. They also cover all political colours and attitudes; that side of them is good.

The presenters themselves vary in standard. Most are good 'communicators', but a few are so politically biased that it makes them almost worthless. They have an agenda, and they won't be budged. Not what one wants in a broadcast discussion.

I'm very upset that I can no longer receive the BBC Radio 4 Extra channel. LBC is no comparison; but I listen to it anyway. I just wish that the most obsessive callers (who call almost every night) would give it a break.

Time flies

 

My goodness, it's really gone so quickly. Our Summer is already slowly winding down. Kimbo and Susie have been gone for a while, one grandson has been driven to the airport and is already back in London (or Oxford), and my youngest (with Boo Boo and The Cherub and another grandson) are in Switzerland. My daughter, Tenpin, and another grandson, are spending some time on The Amalfi Coast before returning to Oz. Now we are all by ourselves again, and it feels very strange.

Having 11 people in the house was too much, and some eventually followed my original advice, and rented a nearby Gite. 

Luckily they were not here for the big storm of July 16th. It was frightening and destructive, and I'm sure the two smallest boys would have been petrified. However, they were all here for the huge forest fires near Bordeaux, the smoke even this far East was dreadful.

My 80th birthday went well. Kimbo made a superb film of my life with some wonderful surprises, and we ate at a favourite restaurant that night. A LOT of Champagne was consumed, including one bottle of Dom Pérignon 2017 (my first taste, and probably last, of DP ever).

I managed to catch a real stinker of a cold just before my birthday, but even though it was, and still remains, quite unpleasant, it didn't mar my enjoyment. I haven't been ill for years, then just when you really don't want, etc .......

I'm very lucky. I have a wonderful family, and it was a real pleasure having them all here (just one grandson was unable to come, he was working in Oz); we now have about a month before we head back to Blighty for Autumn/Winter. 

It was interesting how everyone seemed to go shopping without ever consulting each other. We ended-up with dozens of Eggs, all sorts of Yogs, packs of strange Milks, Melons, unknown cheeses, and of course piles of half-eaten Baguettes. I'm going to have fun sorting through the various fridges.

The Cherub learned to ride a bike. We've had no Crickets or Cicadas. And all the grass is crisp and beige. 

Summer 2026 was certainly a great vintage; and it ain't over yet.

Happy Birthday, and RIP

 

Today is my Father's birthday, he was born on August 5th 1905.

He wasn't a Cricket on the Lawn, Camping in the Woods, or Swimming in Lake, type of father; he was more a solid, old-style, presence.

I have so much to thank him for. He gave us lovely homes to live in, the best schools to attend, and a good solid home life. We never lacked anything; but we were never demanding. We grew-up with high standards of behaviour, honesty, and the respect for others.

He was always involved in local politics, and was well-loved as an employer. He was both a 'generous and a good' person.

So, Father, thank you again for everything. All that you did for me is still highly appreciated, and I continue to tell your great grandchildren what a kind person you were. Your picture (above) hangs in pride of place, in our Sitting Room in France; in the house you so aptly named 'The Nut House' (on account of the nearby Walnut trees!).

Below is my father as a boy, with his older brother, my Uncle Reginald.

What a Mug!

We used to be able to buy a really effective Weed Killer based on Glyphosate. It did everything that it claimed to do; and quickly.

However, those bloody busybodies in Brussels decided that it was far too effective, and that we should now be forced to have some less effective product in it's place. I went looking.

I do like to keep my garden, and pool area, looking as neat as possible. I like a combination of 'Jungle' and 'tidy'. Certain paved areas really do require the regular services of a good weed killer.

I came across this one above. The container was pleasantly colourful, it promised that it was 'Bio', and clamed to kill 99.999% of known weeds (don't they all).

I followed the instructions, diluting by 50% with water, and set to work; it promised to show results within ONE HOUR (Action Express). I waited a few days, but nothing seemed to have wilted; let alone died. I made a second batch using a higher concentration, and was very surprised to see that yet again everything resisted; if anything they seemed to enjoy it.

I began to wonder if I'd bought the wrong product; but no, it was what I'd wanted.

Then I decided to have a look at the label to see what this stuff contained. I was shocked to find that it was no more than WHITE VINEGAR; pure and simple. The same clear vinegar that we keep in the house for various other household purposes. I have a couple of litres of the stuff; it costs peanuts.

I now feel like a right mug. This stuff cost me about £5, and I already had plenty. I hear that Glyphosate can still be bought on the 'Dark Web'. I shall have a discreet look.

Les Bons Vivants in Corsica (Part 2).

If you are either a Vegetarian, a teetotaller, or a killjoy, then turn away now; or you will be horrified!

Here are Arthur and Vincent still in Corsica, eating their way through various herds of Lambs, Pigs, and Cows; all washed down with local wines and alcohols, with a bit of singing.

Here in my village we also have a big tradition of hunting. The chasseurs have a clubhouse in the woods where activities similar to the video happen every Autumn/Winter. I expect their wives and girlfriends are glad to be rid of them!

 

What did she just say ???

 

I have just been listening to an American 'Democrat' talking about their policies. In my wildest dreams, I had never imagined that the USA could espouse policies that are even crazier than those of the UK's Polanski or Corbyn.

In a question/answer interview, Megan Romer, a senior representative of the DSA (Democratic Socialists of America), gave a fascinating insight into her view of a future US. Frankly I was shocked; I wasn't sure if I was listening to a comedy show, or the world's worst political nightmare. This was pure lunacy.

I didn't have time to note all her ideas, but she kept a straight-face as she declared how the DSA would 'Save America'.

She would abolish The Senate, which she described as being based on the UK's upper 'House of Lords'. The Upper House may at times be a thorn in the side of government, but that is why it is there. It is designed to 'filter' anything too crazy from becoming law.

She also wants to do away with all national borders; to allow any Tom Dick or Pedro in and out of the USA at will. WOW!!! Fellow Democrat Barack Obama managed to boot-out 5.3 Million undesirables; this loony wants to let them all in again!

She wants to abolish all PRISONS. I can't even imagine what was going through her mind with this one. Criminals would presumably be allowed to ply their trade without the fear of ever being punished. It's an interesting idea (totally bonkers of course), which no doubt would appeal to the criminal fraternity!

She also wants to 'Defund the Police'. I'm not quite sure what she means by this, but it seems to go along with her lets-all-be-nice-to-criminals stance.

And lastly, and possibly most dangerously, she wants to abolish the US department of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement). A drug dealer's, and people smuggler's dream. Along with banning prisons, and doing away with the Police, this must be the greatest charter for a lawless USA ever proposed.

 p.s. There is a short video circulating (top of page) of this woman and her ideas. Anyone thinking of voting in her direction would be wise to have a look!

Jeans; the story continues.

It was back in August of 2016, ten years ago, when I bought a couple of pairs of Jeans here in France.

I hadn't worn Jeans for years, and I was tempted by seeing these (below) on offer at my local Leclerc supermarket, for the ridiculous sum of just 6.35 Euros per pair. About £5.

Since then I've worn them a lot. The are quite heavy so they are more Winter wear rather than for Summer. They are still in perfect condition.

They are 'old codger' Jeans; no tears in the knees, no skin tight legs, and no artificial bleaching. Just good old solid and comfortable Jeans that are made to last. They are tough Cowboy Jeans. Jeans for Horse riding.

So, this is what I used to look like whilst out walking with Billy. I even still wear the same scarf, and hobble along with the same silver topped cane. Billy is still with me too.

In a perfect world I would like to be buried in my Jeans; they would make a perfect 'shroud'. And I would definitely be wearing my beige Desert Boots. 

I haven't worn them for a couple of months; it's been too hot. But they are in waiting, and I look forward to wearing them again.

 

How to become an INFLUENCER.

 

I've been wondering about this for a few years now, and I think I may have found the answer.

Originally I'd imagined that you simply had to be a bikini clad bimbo from somewhere East of London, where you were either a model, or a barmaid, or even both. You took some 'selfies', showing your 'Stunning Curves', and sent them to The Daily Mail, along with a CV stating that you were an 'Influencer'. It all sounded very simple; anyone could do it.

But it seems that it's not quite so easy. I looked on WIKI, and the rules are quite specific. There are various CATEGORIES of Influencer, and they are rigorously controlled. They are.....

A Nano Influencer has between 1,000 and 10,000 'followers'

A Micro Influencer has between 10,000 and 100,000 'followers'

A Macro Influencer has between 100,000 and A Million 'followers'

And a Celebrity Influencer has anything over A Million 'followers'.

I know what you're thinking; who or what are all these 'followers'? Well, once you have told The Daily Mail that you are an Influencer, you then establish Social Media accounts on Facebook, Instagram, Tik Tok, YouTube, etc, and wait for 'fans' to express their love for you, and promise to 'follow' your every word. Hey Presto... you have become an official Influencer, blessed by Queen Katie of Price herself.

Next, how to earn your first million. This might take a few weeks, but when you advance from Nano to Micro, a small-time manufacturer of some Teenage 'Make-up' (it might be called 'Pretty Pink Lipsticks') might approach you, and offer a deal to promote their sickly Pink Lipstick.

Now advertised as 'Miss Bimbo's range of Fabulous Friday Nite Cozmetix', you will earn 0.02p on every product sold. 

It will take at least a week before you become a Millionaire, buy your first pink Range Rover, and put a deposit on that Apartment (overlooking the sea) you've always dreamed of in Torremolinos.

The second Million arrives by magic whilst you're taking more 'selfies' on some Spanish beach. It's as easy as that!

Stranger than Fiction

 

It sounds like FANTASY, but as we all know, our present UK Home secretary, Muslim Shabana Mahmood, has handed over £662 Million to the French to help stop illegal migrant rubber boats from leaving their shores, and heading for El Dorado. The French of course were very happy to receive this large donation and said 'Merci beaucoup Madame'.

Who came-up with the £662 Million figure is still unclear.

Just recently our Shadow Home Secretary Chris Philp was in Calais to see how things were going, and to assess what value the UK was receiving, for all our extreme generosity.

He stood on the shore and watched as huge overloaded boats headed for Dover. With him watching, and waving farewell, was a whole garrison of French Gendarmes.

When Philp asked them why they weren't attempting to stop them, he was told that they'd been instructed "Not to Intervene". Presumably just to stand-by and 'watch'.

So, let's get this right. We pay them £662 Million to intervene, and now we hear that the Gendarmes themselves have been instructed "not to intervene".

Would it be churlish of me to tell Mahmood to get off her effing backside and demand our effing money back? Who are these bloody lefty idiots?

Well, I suppose it's not HER money after all. It belongs to US, the mugs who pay Taxes, and with Handy-Andy up North, we're soon going to pay a bloody sight more.

Give me bloody strength!!! It's TRUE; the lunatics really are running the asylum.

Get on with it, and Finish the Job!

I have mentioned on several occasions, that on my brief 'Officer Training Course' the first thing we were taught were the hard-n-fast rules of all warfare. 

On page one of the 'How to win a War' book was written 'Know your enemy, go in strong, and go in hard'.... Also to prepare one's 'end game'. I think that advice is as important today, as it was when the (fictitious) book was written.

Frankly, Tru*p has dithered in Iran, and has ended-up with a total mess, not only in Iran itself, but also in the Straits of Hormuz (which Iran still controls). He has had no real success against Iran's war machine, and has already made an agreement to give them $Billions to rebuild the bits he's knocked-about a bit. The war itself has already cost the USA many $Billions, and Trump will soon be asking Congress for MORE!

You certainly don't start negotiating 'ceasefires' when the job is half done. What he needed was to destroy ALL OF THEIR rocket launching, and 'enrichment' sites, all of their barracks, all of their air and naval forces, and all of their runways and ports. He also needed to liberate the Iranian people themselves, and establish some form of democracy. Only then might you 'negotiate'.

Where are all those 'clean' Neutron Bombs we kept hearing about? They could have finished this 'war' in a couple of days!

Tru*p will now come away much poorer, whilst leaving the same regime in place. Iran's military capacity is still very strong, whilst his own is depleted. And he has still not gained control over Hormuz. At the moment he knows that the more infrastructure he destroys, the more it'll cost him to rebuild.

So far, I would call that an Iranian win! So why would they bother to negotiate?

A pressing problem for No 10 North.

 

The 'professionals' who criticise Government spending seem to be concentrating on the cost of 'Care for the Elderly'.

There are never easy ways to balance the books, but there are always ways to stop waste. There is always only so much in the coffers, the NHS wants a good chunk, National Defence is always after more, Education has recently been given self-inflicted wounds (which they are perfectly happy about), and of course the 'BENEFITS BILL' is astronomical.

I just did a tiny bit of research. It seems that the amount of people requiring 'Care' in the UK is round about ONE MILLION (figures vary hugely). At the same time we are housing, and paying generously, another ONE MILLION illegal immigrants.

The annual bill to pay for all the illegals is about £5.5 BILLION per annum (nice hotels, pocket money, etc. Prison costs for all their criminals are a different matter). Whilst money to pay for the care for our elderly seems to be running out, and no-one has a solution. Meanwhile the illegals continue to arrive, and we even send boats out to mid-Channel to bring them here.

Now, I have to admit that my knowledge of Government Finance is sorely lacking, but even I can see that something ain't right. We are giving huge sums to people who have no right to be in our country, and have NEVER paid into the system. Yet we haven't enough to pay for our own citizens who have probably paid-in ALL THEIR LIVES, and need some help in their final years.

I haven't yet heard the new boy 'Aye-up Andy' offering any solution to the problem, and somehow I doubt if I will. He is more interested in other matters, such as moving Downing Street up North so he can be closer to his Mum & Dad.

So, let me have your thoughts on this matter. I am genuinely very interested.

Who should we prioritise?

Walnut Oil

I've shown this short video before, but I think it's worth showing again.

This a nearby farm with it's own ancient press for making Walnut oil. I drink a soup-spoon of oil every day, in the same way that the Greeks drink Olive oil. It is filled with health benefits, and I would recommend it to everyone.

This particular bottle (below) was bought from a really lovely old chap at our local Saturday Market who has a small press on his farm. I forgot to ask him where he came from, I know of one farm in our village where they have a press; maybe he's from there. 

The oil is unfiltered and delicious, and comes with a delightfully hand-written label. Before returning to the UK, I shall certainly buy a few more bottles for the coming Winter.

The oil is superb; the real McCoy.

 

Planning.

 

We have been presented with a really worrying dilemma.

My oldest and best friend and his daughter, who are local farmers, own a nearby field on which they want to build a house. Kimbo was at school with the daughter so I suppose she's HIS oldest friend too.

Our tiny hamlet consists of three very old, and very beautiful, stone houses, set amongst perfect agricultural land. It has amusingly been known as the village's 'Riviera' on account of its spectacular location, and of being a bit 'posh' (non-farmers).

I am the doyen of both our, and the adjoining hamlets, and ever since I bought our tiny ancient ruin back in about 1976, I have ALWAYS been given the assurance that land here could NEVER be developed, on account of it being for agricultural use only. I was assured that nothing could ever change!

If they get the go-ahead, it would open the flood-gates for people to build on other bits of agricultural land elsewhere. A precedent would have been established.

On the above map the plot is measured in yellow, and the house behind it is the most beautiful (and expensive) of our three. The proposed building plot is right opposite the house. Haddock's is plot No 0413, and our house further off to the right.

This Million Euro house has just recently been sold, and the new owners are very pleasant, but I have heard that they (like us) are NOT HAPPY. The proposed new-build is literally a few metres from their front door. Their perfectly tranquil view would be instantly ruined. I cannot imagine someone building in the field in front of us!

I'm not going to fall-out with my friends, but I shall certainly let them know my feelings. We all feel as if we've just been slapped around the face.

I shall, of course, oppose the building request in writing (already done); I value the beauty and privacy of our lovely little hamlet too much. Our house is probably the least affected by the proposal, but I shall say 'NO'; more on behalf of the other two home owners, than ourselves.

THIS CANNOT HAPPEN.

Londonshire

 

With our new anti-London and anti-South East England Prime Minister (some bloke called Aye-up Andy) wanting to move the UK's seat of power up to some northern town, I would like to propose that London and the Home Counties declares UNIVERSAL INDEPENDENCE a.s.a.p. 

We have everything we need. A world-respected seat of government in one of the world's greatest cities, a very strong economy, and a population who have already worked hard all their lives, or are currently doing so. Our streets are clean, and we have very few unemployed. We have no need for some silly, and unnecessarily expensive,  'No 10 North'; we'll leave all that nonsense to Union members, strikers, and the work-shy. 

Andy can try his best to get them to pay for all his Socialist dreams; some bloody hope! But leave us Southerners out of it.

Down in Londonshire we'll get-by with Twickenham, Wimbledon, and Hickstead. We'll go to Ascot, Henley, and the Chelsea Flower Show. We'll go shopping in Harrods, Fortnum's, and Liberty's. And we'll take our children or grandchildren to visit The Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, and Lords Cricket Ground. We have little desire to visit abandoned coal mines, disused metal bashing factories, or Whippet breeding farms. 

To be a citizen of Londonshire, people will need to speak The King's English; and be easily understood. Londonshire will have very strict behaviour and decency rules. Ethnicity will not be a problem, but proof of assimilation will be essential.

Passports and residency papers would be strictly controlled, and entry to our highly desirable new country would only be granted to those who have the necessary requirements.

Anyone attempting to reach the British Isles by rubber boat, will need to land at Liverpool, Scunthorpe, or Grimsby. 

In future, Dover and the whole South Coast will be CLOSED.

India.

I suppose one of my major regrets in life; is that I didn't visit India.

Everything about India fascinates me. The people, the architecture, the culture, and of course the food.

We don't have actual TV here in France, but I do have a plug-in device that is filled with a variety of favourite programmes; including all of Rick Stein's travel/food shows.

Possibly my favourite of all his shows is the series on India. On a rainy afternoon, I will watch an episode for the 100th time, and enjoy it as much as I did on the 1st. Above is just a taster!

The only country I've visited that had an entirely different culture to ours was Morocco. Just across the water from Southern Spain, one finds this country where everything is so completely different to life in Europe. However, I don't think that feeling of 'difference' could compare to that of India.

I should have gone when I was a student, but, who knows, I might never have come back.

My Uncle Reginald who was Tea Planting in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) only returned to the UK after he contracted Para-Typhoid, and had to be repatriated. Otherwise he too might have stayed.

Stein makes his India programmes whilst staying at a small lakeside 'bungalow'. I could have imagined myself living in such a home, with a cook and a housekeeper. A bit fanciful maybe, but very do-able with Indian costs being so much more reasonable than The West.

Sadly, too late now!

 

Alma Mater

I know I'll get a lot of 'stick' for posting this video, but it has just been sent to me by an old school chum, and it brought back so many wonderful memories.

I've never previously seen aerial film of my old school, and I must admit that I find it totally fascinating. I am posting it here so that I don't lose it. That long medieval building at 0.20 is where I spent four years of my life between 1960 and 64. The building itself is said to be the oldest continuously inhabited domestic building in Europe.

Situated not far from Cambridge, and predating the University by a couple of centuries, the school was officially founded in 970 AD, but is probably much older. At 1,056 years old, it is amongst the world's oldest, and led the way for all other similar schools to follow.

It isn't like a modern school with one main building and a 'playground'. There were separate buildings all over the place, and one had to walk a long way to get to certain classes or events. It was almost like being in a small medieval village.

As well as school life there was the ever-present Cathedral. It dominated everything, and we attended every morning, and twice on Sundays. I feel so privileged to have been able to wander around the interior whenever I liked. I explored hidden corners that very few people ever get to see.

I'm showing the video partly for those who have heard about such institutions, but not really known much about them. Mine was an academic school, and I was very fortunate to have passed my entrance exam. These schools have both good and bad reputations; I think I was extremely lucky with mine!!!

Birthday Boy.

 

Today is my birthday; I am 80.

I don't like being 80. I was perfectly happy being 79.

I'm trying to be positive, and to think of the benefits of being so ancient; but frankly it's all a bit gloomy.

So, Happy Birthday to me. I hope that people will NOT try to 'wind me up', let me enjoy my day without incident, and allow me to commiserate with my inner self, in peace. 

p.s. I have woken this morning with a very sore throat, a bunged-up nose, a burning sensation in my chest, a headache, and a general feeling of being unwell. Poor old soul !!! Still; I shan't let it spoil my day.

Football, The Falklands, and Fair Play.

 

Thank goodness it's all over.

I think Football should be a much shorter game; I would suggest that two 30 minute halves is more than enough.

Yet, now, the Americans have done the opposite. They stopped each half, half way though, so that the over-paid lovies could have a little glass of water, and they also created a very lengthy and very poor-taste show at half-time that went on for far too long.

Another aspect of the recent Football competition was 'POLITICS'. Those dear Argies were allowed to parade with silly banners claiming that The Falkland Islands somehow belong to THEM. No dears; they are British territory, and will remain so. Do you really need it to be explained to you a second time?

Let's get things straight. Britain first landed on the unoccupied islands in 1690. We later officially claimed them for The Crown in 1765. There has been a permanent British occupation since 1833; 47 years before Argentina even became an independent country in 1880.

The last referendum concerning the islands' sovereignty was held in 2013 when 99.8% of the residents voted to remain BRITISH. I'm not sure who the .2% was; probably some bloody rodent.

Frankly, who would YOU wish to rule over you? Those Charming Argies, or The United Kingdom? 

I heard that the three main banner wavers (above) all play for English Clubs. Well they wouldn't any more if I had my say. 

FIFA, of course, bans all political outbursts before, during, and after matches; they are very strict about such things. However, they seemed to have bypassed the rules just for the Argies. We shall see!

I almost forgot to mention. In the competition final, the Argies lost to Spain (1-0), so after the final whistle the Argies threw a few punches and kicks at the Spaniards, just to demonstrate what 'bad losers' they are!

Now go back to Argentina, get yourself another really silly haircut, and a few more tattoos, and sob over your cup of Yerba Mate. (Mate is pronounced MAH-tay) 

In Cricket the maxim is 'It matters not to win or lose, but how one plays the game'. Could someone please explain that to the Footballing Argies! 

I've missed so much.

 

I've been locked out of my page for almost a month, and so much has happened during that time that I would have loved to have written about! I have really missed my morning bit of nonsense; and your lovely daily comments. So, thank you to Kimbo who has now returned me to 'normal'.

However, as most would probably agree, there has been one major event that has eclipsed all others in recent times. The violent murder of ex-MP, and amateur dancer, Ann Widdecombe.

National Treasure, Ann Widdecombe became a real 'star' when she entered 'Strictly Come Dancing'. She became a TV sensation, admired by people from all quarters. Her violent murder has shocked even the unshockable. A few vile comments from the left simply added to the horror.

One of the aspects about her murder (allegedly by 28 year old Socialist fanatic, Joshua Kerry), was that it was treated very differently to other recently well publicised violent deaths. One that comes to mind was that of a foreign black career criminal, who died whilst being arrested. For some bizarre reason, his death prompted outrage the world over. Even our own PM, and the fragrant Angela Rayner, were photographed on one knee to his memory inside No 10, and many football players, and even a few British Cops, also fell to their knees at the whim of the paparazzi's cameras. It became an obsession. He was treated as a HERO, and even prompted the 'Black Lives Matter' movement.

The horrible death of Ms Widdecombe may not have prompted such photo-opportunities for Starmer & Co, but it shocked decent people throughout the whole country. However, there was no going down on one knee at No 10 in her memory. That was reserved for a foreign criminal. Personally I see her death as far more worthy of such respect from No 10, than the death of some foreign ne'er-do-well. But that is the crazy way of our 21st C world.

RIP Ann Widdecombe. You really didn't deserve such an awful end.

Oh, it's so good to be back online!!!

Hello again.... I'm back in Cyber-land!

 

As expected, Kimbo arrived here on Thursday afternoon, and by teatime, he had me back into my blog page. It's been about a month since I was last able to post anything.

HOWEVER; on that same evening we had one of the worst storms I've ever experienced here. Not only was it extremely destructive, but our power has been OFF for three days, and we have lost all the contents of the freezer. Meat, Fish, and some Vegs; all in the bin. I shall have to totally re-stock.

Above shows half a huge Oak Tree torn from it's more solid other half. It wasn't far from the house, but luckily fell the other way; others in the village weren't so lucky. 

Anyway, we now have a full house, with others still to arrive. We WILL cope, but I'm not sure how. This little house is designed for two people, plus an occasional visitor. At the last count I'm expecting us to be ELEVEN. I'm trying to stay calm. 

It's been a very stressful few days, and there is more to come. I'm taking deep breaths, and thinking calming thoughts.

There's some Football competition taking place in the US at the moment, and our Sitting room has been converted into one giant 'Home Cinema'. I'm staying in the Studio until it's all over.

Aristocratic garden plants (weeds).

 

Cro, Cro, all aglow

How does your garden grow?

With Champagne corks 

and knives and forks

and 'Lords and Ladies' all in a row!

'Lords and Ladies' seem to crop-up almost anywhere; where one least expects them. In this case (above) in the old fish pond beneath the fountain.

But beware; they are toxic. Best left to certain birds that are immune, and who distribute their seeds at will.

They never fail to surprise me; especially when they appear in a row of SEVEN.

Les Bons Vivants in Corsica (Part 1)

It's a long time since I've posted one of these videos of the Bons Vivants doing what they do best; eating, drinking, and having fun.

Here they are in Corsica, waving guns around like a bunch of junior Mafioso (firearms etiquette is not their forté), and enjoying the best that the island can offer. 

Their accents are very strong; very similar to where I live, so not easy for everyone to understand. However, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it.

These boys don't hold back, they search out the very best of each region of France. The cheeses, the charcuterie, the wines, the alcohols. And at the same time they have a lot of fun with their palls.

It's why we love France (and Corsica) so much. 

They're basically a pair of Foodie-Hooligans.

 

Should we 'Ban the Burka' ?

No, not Brighton beach, but probably somewhere in 'Arabia'.

Many burka-wearing women say that they like to be totally covered, but one wonders what their husbands would say/do if they said otherwise. How can this poor woman in the photo not be desperate to join her family in the water?

Humans are humans wherever they live, and women want the same freedoms and opportunities as their sisters elsewhere. To be educated, to find a nice husband, to make her own decisions, to be her own person. These are basic desires, and rights.

I do have sympathy with these oppressed women, but if it's what they REALLY want, then OK. However, I don't believe a word of it. I mean; just look at this poor woman; obeying the wishes of her husband (I presume the photo is genuine). I can just see her thinking how nice it would be to wear a bikini, let her skin feel the sunshine, and throw herself into the cooling water.

Is there a woman in the world who really wants to be covered from head to toe in a black shroud for the whole of their lives..... and for what?

Several major EU countries are now banning the wearing of such clothes. With 'facial recognition' cameras being installed everywhere, they NEED to be outlawed. 

On a personal note, I must say that I do find them quite amusing. I suppose I shouldn't laugh at them, but they do look quite comical.

Could there possibly be a sillier form of dress ???

This should do the job.

 

Mouches et Moustiques.

One of the most noticeable differences between the UK and France, are the Flying Insects.

We are sleeping in our 'Tower'; an outside room with a very comfortable bed. But somehow the Flies and Mozzies have already discovered that we're there.

I've given it a good spraying, I've installed a plug-in-insect-scarer, and I'm even wearing a yellow plastic anti-Mozzie bracelet, but still they come. 

I remember many years ago talking to our local Chatelaine about the problem, and she very indignantly asked me "So, you don't have Flies in England?".

"Of course we do", I replied, "but as soon as one is spotted inside a house, everyone rolls-up a newspaper, and we hunt him down". A very different attitude to here in France.

Like most people, I really hate hearing a Mozzie at night. It can completely spoil one's pattern of sleep.

If anyone knows of a foolproof system to keep the wretched things away, please let me (and the rest of the world) know.

A new member of staff.

 

Yes, we have a new member of staff here at the 'homestead'. He is amusingly known as 'Creepy Crawley', and is mostly found either beside, or in, the pool.

He's a hard-worker, and his demands are few. He works for just a few hours every other day; and does a grand job. 

Seeing as my poor old back hardly functions any more, we decided that we needed extra help with certain outdoor cleaning jobs. Then Kimbo found 'Creepy', who was desperately looking for work.

He takes life quite leisurely, mooching about and climbing up walls and steps. He does a bit of sweeping, then when he's tired he simply goes to sleep and I rescue him from the depths.

It's a bit like having a tame Turtle in the pool.