(For owners of a) Zodiac T3 Robot.

I must admit that I was originally a little disappointed with my Zodiac T3 robot which we bought back in 2013; it didn't seem to reach all corners, or cover the whole bottom surface, and was regularly getting tangled.

Our pool is 9 by 4 metres, and I use 7 interlocking sections of tubing between the business end, and the vacuum outlet.

This Spring, I noticed that the rubber seal which fits between the pipe and the vacuum outlet hole (the blue multi ribbed affair above) had 'perished', and was falling apart, so I decided that, rather than buy an expensive new piece, I would make my own version by elongating the whole lot by adding an extra foot or so of ordinary spare vacuum pipe, and glueing onto it a cheap white plastic connector (see top photo). 

I don't know quite what this extra flexibility has done to the robot, but it now cleans the bottom almost perfectly, and no longer gets tangled. In fact it's so much better that I did consider offering my simple invention to Zodiac; 'gratis'.

Blackberries.

Lady M: Did you find any?

Cro: A few.

Lady M: Show me.

Cro: There you are!

Lady M: Pathetic.

Cro: I can't help it; there weren't any!

Lady M: No crumbles for you this winter m'lad.

Cro: I'll go again this afternoon.

Lady M: And make sure you come back with a good bag-full. Twelve Blackberries indeed!

(I did go out again, and came back with a reasonable supply; a winter without Blackberry and Apple Crumbles is simply unimaginable)

A chance meeting.

Anyone who knows The Chelsea Arts Club will know that it's a magnet for celebs from the art and acting worlds. The place is always awash with famous names and faces.

I was recently reminded about the last time I was there. I'd been invited by my chum, the artist Graham Dean (Living abroad, I've never bothered to become a member myself). We'd been happily chatting away, when Lucy Irvine asked if she could join us. She was waiting for someone, and sat with us for about an hour or so.

This was back in the early 80's, when Lucy had recently become a big noise after the publication of her book 'Castaway'.

If real-life adventure interests you, and you haven't read it, I recommend 'Castaway' as a very good read. Lucy answers an ad' for 'wife wanted for a year on desert island', and the book describes what followed. Not always easy reading, but filled with guts and bravado in the face of constant difficulty.

Even in the short time we spent together, I found Ms Irvine a very interesting woman; the type who would take no bullshit. I may even try to find the book again myself; I lost my copy years ago.

Ron and Sandra.

If you have a serious amount of spare cash, I would recommend you buy a painting by Ron Kitaj (above with his wife, Sandra Fisher). Kitaj was one of the late 20th Century's best painters, and your investment would do well.

His wife Sandra was also a very good painter, but not as commercially minded as her husband. She allowed things to follow a natural course, whilst her husband became a super-star.

Below is her painting 'Chess Players'; a deceptively simple composition, well executed, which would sit happily in anyone's home.

They were both around when I was living in London, and I rather regret that we never met. We may well have been in the same room together on occasions, but I wouldn't have known who they were. 

There may have been one photo of Kitaj in Snowdon's 'Private View', but nowadays, with the net, we have photos on hand of just about everyone; so no excuses not to recognise. 

Hugh Laurie's News Flash.

Someone at the BBC must have had a crystal ball!

Bloody Tea-leaves.

I hate stealing, and I hate people who steal. It goes against everything I believe in.

Many years back, I bought three of these plastic 'trugs', they were reasonably cheap, very useful, and perfect for the kitchen garden. One of them was always kept at Haddock's.

Yesterday morning I was weeding my beans, and turned round to where the trug permanently sat, and it was no longer there! Some thieving bastard had stolen it, and emptied it's previously held weeds on the ground. In the country we are so used to trusting people that such things are never locked away, but sadly some people can't resist their urges.

OK, it's nothing of great value, but it belonged to ME, and it'll now be ME who forks-out to replace it; not dissimilar to paying for our smashed water meter.

I wrote recently that we will soon have to lock things away, due to the influx of tourists in our tiny hamlet. Well it seems as if that day has already arrived, and, frankly, I'm not surprised. I'm certain that we can expect much more of this kind of thing in the future.

So, whoever you are, enjoy my trug, and if I ever find out who you are, be warned; I'm not someone you'd want to know when I'm angry! 

Did I mention how much I detest thieves?

Marche Gourmande.

My tiny village gets up to all sorts of activities throughout the year, one of which took place this last Saturday evening.

The 'Marche Gourmande'  is a long night-time walk, peppered with occasional stops for different courses that eventually constitute a complete meal.

The walkers set-off from the church between 7 and 8 pm, and follow a predetermined route through the heavily wooded countryside. Every so often they stop at a farm and consume one part of their meal; then move on to the next.

If you enlarge the map above, you might see what was consumed, and where. First stop was for an apéritif, then a soup in the form of a velouté de choux fleurs, then a plate of charcuterie, followed by an entrecote with haricots verts. Back at the village they continued with some cheese and a dessert, then finished with coffee.

The whole meal was washed down with plenty of red wine, and walkers were advised to take pocket lamps. The route was estimated at about 9 kms long (it looks further to me); I have no idea what time they finished the evening, but I imagine it must have been quite late (and dark).

The early part of the route goes right behind our house, and one small group stopped to ask if I could let them have some string. A lady's sole had completely come away from her hefty walking shoe, and it needed repairing. I found some wide black tape, and did an instant repair for her; I wonder how long it lasted?

On Saturday there must have been about 70-80 walkers. Not really my cup of tea; my dodgy knee would complain too much, but it sounds like fun.

Oh, and the cost? €15 for adults, and €8 for children.