Testing times.

                                       

I've been feeling a bit low recently; I expect it's been brought-on by a combination of the weather and so much depressing news.

The ageing process, far too much rain, and a few unimportant niggles, have all added up to my feeling a little depressed; much as I usually do through Winter. News about the crime-wave from 'back home' hasn't helped either.

England's Cricket XI were recently beaten by Scotland (heaven effing help us!), The Football World Cup will no doubt see England being sent home for an early bath, and I probably won't see any grandsons for another 6 months or so.

I believe that 'ecstasy' tabs (or was it LSD?) were first invented to make USA pensioners feel happy; well maybe I need some too. When one feels down, it's very difficult to shake it off, even by simply stroking the cat.

This morning I read an every-day tale of life in today's Britain, which made me want to bloody scream. This type of story is not uncommon, and fuels my despair.

Last month a Lancashire brewery was invaded over a Bank Holiday weekend, by over 100 'travellers' who completely trashed the place, doing over £100,000 worth of damage. They also contaminated all the beer that was in process of brewing, which then had to be thrown away. The police eventually escorted them all to a nearby motorway, and sent them on their way. No-one was prosecuted, or even fined. These people are immune from the law. The brewery may not now re-open.

If that had been ME breaking into the brewery, and doing all that damage, I would now be behind bars. In the UK, this type of PC (don't be cruel to travellers, immigrants, criminals, etc) behaviour is making a mockery of the legal system. It's not surprising that so many school leavers see a life of crime as a good option.

It's OK, Lady Magnon has now returned from London, and I'll soon feel a bit better; even if my fury over Snowflake coppers and judges makes my effing blood boil.

The Rules of Cricket

We are well into the Cricket season, so this might come in handy for those who don't understand the game.

Haddock's in soggy June.

With all the rain we've been having, I haven't been able to get onto the soil to do any weeding at Haddock's, and it's beginning to look a right bloody mess.

The wretched Oxalis is growing like crazy, and I'm becoming extremely frustrated. What started so well is slowly becoming a nightmare.

Everything that is already established is doing well, but my sowings of winter 'greens' have been a disaster. Birds have being playing havoc with my young seedlings, and where I've re-sown I now have Molehills.

I need Chard, Broccoli, Cavolo Nero, and Kale to get us through winter, and at the moment it's not looking good. I may even have to see if I can buy plants.

I need two or three days of serious sunshine in order to tidy-up. I also need the Magpies, Blackbirds, and Moles, to go away for a few days; in fact, forever.

p.s. Since I wrote the above, we've had even more rain. The soil is once again waterlogged, and the bloody Oxalis spreading like crazy.

For services to chaos!

Congratulations to all those mentioned in The Queen's birthday Honours List.

Special mention should go to Mark Carne who receives a CBE. His tireless work to make the UK's train service smooth running and efficient, was reflected in his meagre £820,000 salary (5 times that of the Prime Minister).

Under Mr Carne's management, Britain's railways are now more chaotic, inefficient, and overpriced, than one could ever have imagined possible. Delays and cancellations are now the norm.

If Her Majesty is handing out gongs for failure, then put me down for a knighthood! I've worked bloody hard to earn one; even without the obscene salary.

I wonder what ever happened to....

Our wedding was a somewhat haphazard affair. We wanted to get married in Paris, but were told that we would need to be resident for two weeks; we couldn't afford the time, so we decided on Gibraltar instead.

At the time, the Spaniards were playing silly buggers, and had closed the border between Spain and Gib'. One either had to fly in direct, or take the ferry to Morocco then take another back to Gib'.

This meant that we ended-up having our 'honeymoon' in Tangiers before the actual marriage ceremony itself.

On the ferry between Algeciras and Tangiers we met three Americans; two female secretaries and one male dentist, all from New York. We decided to find an hotel together, and ended up sharing one large room with four beds. The communal shower room was a huge wet-room with six shower heads, there was no room for shyness when taking a shower. The whole Moroccan ambiance was great fun.

The dentist, GG (let's call him Gary), was a very nice guy. He instantly threw himself into local traditions, and quickly returned to the hotel with a big slab of government stamped Hashish, which we sampled at once.

We didn't stay in Tangiers too long, but spent some great times together.

Before we left for Gib', the American trio very kindly presented us with a wedding gift; a very attractive black and white woven blanket that we loved. We used it for many years before it finally fell apart.

I don't remember the names of the two secretaries, but Gary's name has always stuck in my mind, and I recently decided to consult Google to see if he was still around.

Dr Gary's name was all over the net. It seems as if he's one of New York's most important practitioners in Prosthodontics, with loads of honours, professorships, and several books, to his name.

I was almost tempted to write him a 'Remember me?' letter, but thought better of it.

Nothing to lose.

The current spate of UK knifings, shootings, acid throwings, muggings, moped crime, and general criminality, is put down to the fact that these ne'er-do-well scumbags feel they have 'nothing to lose'.

London (and elsewhere) is awash with hoodie and balaclava wearing, drugged-up, gangs, who commit daringly blatant crimes in the knowledge that there are no police on the streets, and therefore little chance of getting caught. If the office-bound police can be at all bothered to follow-up a serious crime, it would only be by watching CCTV coverage. Most active cops are out catching speeding motorists instead.

Here in France, I haven't seen a gendarme for years.

It is no secret that the 'one parent family' is fuelling gang culture. With no father figure at home, the gang becomes 'male family'. Drug dealing brings easy money, and stolen high-end cars make life bearable. Why stack shelves at Tesco for a paltry minimum wage, when you can make thousands by selling coke or grass; and hang around with your mates.

Even when caught, the young criminals are given a small fine, and told not to do it again. Some bloody hope.

So, what's the solution? They could always build more jails, re-introduce 'National Service', or even start rubbish-clearing chain gangs.

Whatever they do, they'll have to do it pretty damn quick, because it's getting seriously out of hand.

What a difference a day makes...

Just to show you how quickly the Walnuts begin to turn black. The one's on the left were prepared on Wednesday (as in yesterday's post), and the one's on the right were prepared (from a different tree) this afternoon (Thursday). 

I've done enough now, I should have supplies for two or three years at least! I still have some from last year.

All is well in Walnut pickle land.