Macron; another Napoleon wannabe?

There is no question that Napoleon was an important military leader, but his greatest defeat was at the hands of those very annoying English.

His invasion of Russia ended with almost 600,000 pointless French deaths, and at the Battle of Leipzig he lost another 100,000. His ability to maximise French losses was on a par with his occasional success.

Even following Napoleon's defeat by Wellington, his reputation amongst the French is still far greater than that of Wellington's is with the English. Maybe heroes have different standards on opposite sides of the channel.

The English famously sent Napoleon to St Helena where eventually, in 1821, he died. His body was returned to France some 20 years later, where he is still idolised; especially by 'teacher's pet' Macron. It's not surprising that certain Frenchmen hate the English.

Meanwhile back in the UK, some of our finest military leaders are now being 'cancelled' by the junior-thinking Woke brigade. In France, rather than having his name and images removed, as would have been the case had he been English; Napoleon remains a god. His restoration of Slavery in 1802, which led to the infamous 'Haitian Revolution', would have had the UK's Snowflakes taking to the barricades; but not over here, where not even his support for slavery can besmirch his deity status.

And as for slave owner George Washington, who personally owned 123 slaves, and was an extremely cruel taskmaster. How he has (so far) managed to escape the American BLM's loathing is a total mystery! 

N.B. The word 'macron' means long (maybe too long) in time. It is also the name of that little line over a vowel encouraging the reader stretch the sound, as in Māori.

Brollies.

We've been having some heavy, stormy, rain recently, and we're about to have another week of it. I can't think why, but it set me thinking about BROLLIES.

Other than my cheap schoolboy brollies, my first pukka 'brolly' was bought in order to equip myself correctly before taking up my first ever post-school job; as a 'blue button' (trainee broker) on the London Stock Exchange.

I should never have mentioned anything to my aesthete school friend Monty, but he insisted that I visit Swaine Adeney Brigg in Piccadilly; where, he assured me, all gentlemen bought their umbrellas.

I followed his advice, and found myself spending a bloody fortune on a brolly that I hardly ever used, and eventually lost on the train.

I was then told by another friend to visit the lost property office at Victoria Station, to give them the details of a train and time (but to be vague about the day) when I had lost my brolly, and I would be shown a good selection from which to choose my next 'free' brolly. I did as advised, put on quite a convincing act, chose an expensive looking model from a vast selection, and replaced my lost item with a very good alternative.

Since those city days I have had an extensive collection of cheap brollies, most of which either instantly turned inside-out, or finished with spokes penetrating the covering. I'm sure you recognise the ilk.

My latest model (see the 2 pix above) is very much on a par with my original Swaine Adeney one. It was expensive, is well made, and I hope will see me through. Just look at all those spokes; very solid, and quite heavy too. It's a pukka job.

Bring on the rain.

Boo Boo (a.k.a. Fangio) in the US of A.

He seems to be settling in well to life in Florida; I even noticed the slight twinge of an accent in one particular word when speaking to him recently.

His reading is now superb, no more problems with long words, and he is enjoying the company of other children of his own age. His school (Riviera Miami) has an excellent reputation.

Lady Magnon spent about 7 or 8 years at school in Washington DC, and came to no serious harm. When she was eventually sent to an English upper school (on the Isle of Wight), she arrived there with an American accent, which her new Headmistress would not tolerate. She was made to attend elocution lessons at once, and the problem was soon solved. Her English is now spoken with an English accent.

My daughter who has lived in Oz for about 15 years (presently in Brisbane) shows no sign of an Aussie accent; which I know can be very easily adopted; I can't say the same for her two boys. 

I, myself, have lived in France for nearly 50 years, and other than throwing my arms around erratically, and regularly peeing outdoors, I offer not a hint of a Gallic accent; although I believe I do speak French with a south western twang.

I have a feeling that the next time I see Boo Boo, he'll be encouraging me to 'have a nice day', wanting to play Rounders, and talking about 'Football'; but not the proper kind.

 

Dr Stephen Francis Lester Lowe M.B. CH.B M.R.C.P (UK) F.R.C.P (C) et al.

 

I think of my dear cousin every day of the year (the photo below lives in a prominent position in my sitting room), but especially on this day May 10th; the day on which he was murdered, in 1977.

My cousin Stephen was not just a 'doctor'; he was an exceptional one. His diagnostic abilities for 'internal medicine' were second to none. 

As a young 'houseman' at Liverpool's Royal University Hospital, he was head-hunted by the Australian Health Service as a 'Flying Doctor'. His possession of a pilot's licence made him highly sought-after.

Regardless, he decided to go to Canada, and it was there where his life sadly came to a sudden end at the hands of some young scumbag next-door neighbour who was looking for drugs (I believe). 

He'd been an advisor to the Canadian Government, as well as having his services often sought by the Canadian Mounties. He was a lovely man, and had been a huge asset to society.

He died aged 35, leaving a wife and three young daughters; one of whom witnessed his murder.

He should have had at least another 30 years to offer to the world of medicine. What a terrible waste of a precious life.

RIP Stephen. It pains me, knowing that he's no longer here. xx

Oh dear; The Labour Party (UK)

It's been a whole year, now, since Sir Keir 'Brylcreem' Starmer took over from Corbyn as Leader of The UK's Labour Party, supposedly giving them slightly more 'electability' than under wee Jeremy. 

But the poor guy, Sir Keir already seems to be stuck in the mire. He's been caught visiting a church with very dubious anti-gay procedures, he's been photographed on one knee in submission to something or other, and he's still refusing to apologise for Corbyn's crazy term in office, and/or Labour's anti-Semitic stance. He doesn't seem to have any policies either; whacky or otherwise.

Not only all this, but in the recent parliamentary, and local council elections, Labour have hit rock-bottom. They've even just lost Hartlepool; a Labour 'jewel in the crown' seat, that hadn't seen a Tory win for half a century. Even up there they're getting the message.

Starmer obviously has sharper skills as a speaker than his predecessor; he is, after all, a reasonably well-honed Barrister. But typical of a Barrister turned Politician, he's continually nit-picking from the past rather than proposing policies for the future. Assembling a case from past events might work in court, but not in parliament, giving him the well-earned sobriquet of 'Captain Hindsight'. 

At the weekly Wednesday PMQ's it makes him very easy picking for Boris Johnson's superior debating and political abilities; Sir Keir simply sits there blinking, hoping to hit a nerve, whilst looking confused and downhearted. His recent attempt to tar Boris with accusations of 'sleaze' has only made Boris's popularity increase. He can't win.

His novelty value is now waning, and his popularity has fallen drastically. He was originally seen as a latter day, quasi-Tory, 'son of Blair', but without the dewy-eyed appeal; Sir Keir has a somewhat manic and perplexed look. He is also seen as too weak and too right-wing for the more radical members of both his Parliamentary Party, and the all-powerful Trades Unions.

I can't see him leading Labour into the next general election, unless he changes his 'Blairite' political stance. More radical Labour MP's would desperately like to see a woman leading their party, it might give them more kudos (the Conservatives have had two female PM's, so why don't Labour have a female leader?). I suggest that either the fragrant Jess Phillips, Angela Rayner, or even Rebecca Long-Bailey might well be in line for the job. 

Some still talk of Labour as being the party of 'The Working Man', but let me explain something; it's a strong economy those 'working men' need, not Labour. You only get growth and high employment with the Conservatives. Labour have NEVER left a term in office without an increase in unemployment; hardly pro those 'working men'.

One doesn't wish to gloat over Labour's demise, but it's their crazy policies! No-one wants a government that would wreck the economy; like the last time they were in power. Those days are over; it's time to think again.

The Labour Parliamentary Party will need to 'pretend' that they believe in more sensible policies, and maybe even start agreeing with the Tories; only that way will they stand any chance of regaining power.

Michael Foot's election manifesto of 1983 was called 'The longest suicide note in history'..... nothing much has changed. 

Re-Boarding.

Builders seem to be everywhere at the moment; even chez nous.

We're having the exterior weather-boarding replaced at the barn. The old wood was tired, split, and brittle, and had served its purpose. I think the barn was built in 1976, so it's lasted quite well.

Our builder has only just started (the brown area, bottom left), and I shall show more as he advances. 

It's a slow business, but our man is a perfectionist; and that's how we like it. This morning it looks like this (below).

For the moment he has just taken off all the old wood from the East facing façade (the entrance), revealing all my insulation from when I built the interior walls. On the other side of the silver stuff is about 15 cms of Rock Wool behind the brick and plaster. It's extremely well insulated.

There's a lot to do; it's a big building. When done, the work will be almost finished. There is still one bathroom that needs attention, plus a small room, and a few doors.

Maybe all will be done before the end of the year. I do hope so. Maybe we will then be able to relax.

People I would like to thank.

Mr Marmite: Thank you for your product, it has enlivened my morning toast for over 70 years.

Santa Claus: What can I say. You made my childhood wonderful, and you are still doing the same today.

Dairy Farmers: What would life have been like without Cheese, Yoghurt, and Milk for my cuppa.

Nicolaus Otto: Thank you for your 1876 invention of the Internal Combustion Engine. Having my first car changed my life completely, and driving still allows me the freedom to live 'out of town'.

Henri Matisse, Kitaj, Derain, et al: The pleasure these and so many other painters have given me is immeasurable.

Vignerons worldwide: A noble profession. Without wine at our tables, our lives would be so dull!

Poultry Farmers, Shepherds, Pig Farmers. and Cereal Growers: Bread, Toast, Eggs, Bacon, Shepherd's Pie, Roast Lamb. Need I say more?

Ted Heath (reluctantly): Ted oversaw the UK's entry into 'The Common Market' in 1973, allowing me to live unhindered in France for the past 47 years. All that has now sadly come to an end.

Django Reinhardt & Stéphane Grappelli: Certain music grabs you from the very first second you hear it. These two did just that.

Yeats, Woodhouse, Waugh, S Gibbons, Hardy, et al: I'm not a huge reader, but I'm rarely without a book on the go. So, thanks to all those who've written my favourites.

Logie Baird, Marconi, Sir Tim Berners-Lee, and maybe Jeff Bezos: Some of the greatest inventors and innovators of all time. Without them you wouldn't be reading this, and I wouldn't have my laptop on which I'm writing it.

The Abbey, King's, and the West Surrey College of Art and Design: They moulded me, and made me what I am today.

And finally, my Family: Thank you for putting-up with me.