Pool life.

 

Anyone who has a pool, and looks after the maintenance themselves, knows that it's not all Bathing Beauties, Bikinis, and inflatable Flamingoes. There's a lot of work, and a lot that can go wrong.

Looking after your pool is an essential daily task. First thing in the morning everything has to be cleaned. All leaves on the 'beach' must be swept-away, any creatures, or illegal immigrants must be taken out of the pool itself, and the skimmers emptied of all the overnight amassed detritus. Chemicals have to be added if necessary.

The level of the water is very important. Too little and the skimmers will begin to suck in air, and the whole pumping system will be circulating air rather than water. Even in times when we have a 'Hose-pipe ban', we have to ensure that the level is correct. If they want to take me to court.... let them!

Our pool runs on Chlorine (some run on Salt), and the level of Chlorine needs to be checked regularly. I'm afraid I don't bother with this. I put in the 'Multifunction Tabs' when needed, and cross my fingers. So far this year the water has remained perfectly clear.

Then there is all the mechanical side of things (above); the things that are hidden away in the Pump House. The pump itself has a rudimentary filter that needs to be emptied from time to time, and the whole system has a large round filter that has to be washed-out (backwashed) regularly. Ours contains ground Glass rather than Sand. We had a slight problem with the pump this year, and the dangling white tubular bit is new. All now works well.

As far as cleaning the inside of the pool is concerned, we now have a fabulous 'robot'. He sees to it that all is perfect, and I clean his internal filter when he's finished.

If we get everything right, spending 15-30 minutes a day making sure that all is as it should be, then the pool will function correctly, and people will think that it all happens by itself (by magic). If the water turns GREEN, which ours has in the past, it can take a week or more to get it back; and of course I would be to blame.

It's not 'Rocket Science' but one has to be aware of how everything functions. After that it's simply a matter of aesthetics, weather, and FUN.

An un-nerving (for me) story!

 

I was just reading that the 60's Gangland Boss, Eddie Richardson, who masterminded 'The Torture Gang', has recently died. Richardson's gang and The Kray twins were underworld rivals. He always referred to Ronnie and Reggie Kray as a bunch of amateurs. You can just imagine what sort of person Richardson was.

His death reminded me of a personal experience.

Back in 1966 I was living and working in London. I was in the Antiques business, and (at the time) I was living in Lillie Road, Fulham. I had a small apartment on the ground floor of a pleasant terraced house, my rooms were just inside the entrance door, on the right.

One night, whilst fast-asleep, the door to the apartment was thrown open, and I was torn from my slumber by two burley Policemen, and a viciously barking dog. I was petrified!

They dragged me over to beneath a lightbulb, and compared my face to that of a photo that another Policeman was holding.

"No, that's not 'im" said the man, and they allowed me to sit down.

"Not who?" I asked.

"We'd been given information that Frank Mitchell (above) had been seen entering this property" he explained. 

The name of Frank 'the mad axeman' Mitchell was all over the news at that time. He was an extremely dangerous criminal, and had recently been 'sprung' from Dartmoor Prison by the Kray twins. They had found a flat for him, but he'd disappeared. The whole of The Metropolitan Police Force were out looking for him, and thanks to some idiot, I had inadvertently become a part of their search.

OK, I understood that they needed to do their job, but I looked nothing like Mitchell. They 'almost' apologised, gathered together all the other Police throughout the house, and departed to harass someone else.

I believe that the Krays eventually found Mitchell themselves and had him killed. It was rumoured at the time that his body was dumped in the Channel.

I, on the other hand, somehow managed to survive!

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.