The Milkman.

When I first bought my larger family house in Brighton back in about 1985, we had milk delivered every morning. The children were still at school and required copious amounts of milk for their morning cereals, etc.

The milkman drove one of those electric milk-floats which were mostly silent other than the sound of rattling milk bottles in the metal crates. Milkmen, in those days, were all called 'Ernie'.

He arrived at our house at exactly the same time each morning. I had no need for a bedside clock; the milkman served as one. I got up as soon as he'd been by, which gave me time to do all that was necessary before trying to get the kids out of bed, washed, dressed, and fed.

I had imagined that daily deliveries of milk in glass bottles had finished, but I was pleased to see the above recently. Some traditions may not be used by all, but the expression 'use it or lose it' is very apt in the case of Milkmen. 

If a Milkman passes your front door, get him/her to deliver daily. It not only keeps a tradition alive, but it is far more convenient than rushing off to the corner shop (in dressing-gown and slippers) for a pint of semi-skimmed in a tetra pack.

Old Cookery Books.

My mother was a reasonably plain cook until she discovered Elizabeth David. Then she became more adventurous and even experimental.

Her main pre-David source of recipes was this 'Radiation Cookery Book' that came with her Gas cooker. It was a reasonably comprehensive book, with a leaning towards frugality. As you can see, it's been well used, and has just received yet another gluing and amateur 'restoration'. As with all my mother's books, etc, it comes well stocked with four-leafed-clovers; most of which are now three, or even two, leafed clovers. Time has not been kind to them.

The book is filled with small snippets of hand written recipes; as far as I can see, most of them are for 'flapjacks'.

The other essential in all English kitchens is of course Mrs Beeton; the woman who changed people's culinary lives for ever.

Both books are in a terrible state, but I shall keep them as they are 'family' books. They won't be used for reference any more, but confined to the loft.

 

Another find.

This poor old painting was left in the garage, and has since almost fallen apart. 20-odd years of damp and neglect have taken its toll.

It is mouldy, dirty, and the stretcher has collapsed. It's quite a big painting, measuring 44 by 58 inches. I notice from the back that it was entitled 'Feet of Clay'; but I'm not sure why. Its reference number suggests it was my third painting of 1990.

All I can remember about it was a certain structural influence by Giotto, although that may be difficult to decipher. It may have been based on troubles in S Africa.

I might cut it away from the stretcher, and roll it up. It will do no harm up in the loft. I don't know what else I could do with it.

 

Puffin

I used to have a friend called 'Puffin'; in fact I wrote about him back in March of last year. He was a rather solitary figure, who worked in some area of The Arts; illustrator or photographer maybe.

He lived at the top of our road opposite the church, we would bump into each other quite regularly and chat. He had a nice house, a nice wife, and nice kids.

Then one day everything fell apart, and he began wandering around town looking lost and forlorn. We knew nothing of the reason for his new state of affairs, nor did we wish to. He took to alcohol, and became dishevelled and aimless. He once even asked me for £1, which I was happy to provide.

I would often see him wandering around town, presumably simply to keep moving. His ex-wife stayed in the family home, took a good new job in a well-known High Street store, and seemed to behave as if nothing had happened. 

Meanwhile Puffin's other favourite activity was to ride around town on busses; he just stayed on them until they threw him off. 

One day, on the No 7, he died. People thought he was asleep, so he went round and round the route until someone eventually realised what had happened.

Yes, poor old Puffin; he died on the No 7 bus, and no-one had noticed.

I came across this rustic wooden bench (above) in The Peace Park yesterday. At least someone was kind enough to remember him. I shall sit there one day, and leave some flowers. Lady Magnon saw recently that his house had been sold for nearly £1 million.

Dog Club.

We are very lucky where we live. At the end of our road, about 60 metres away, is the mid 14th Century 'village church' of old Brighthelmstone (now known as Brighton). 

St Nicholas Church has a surrounding ancient burial ground, plus a large open grassy park. Possibly well over two acres in all.

On the other side of the road is a separate 'Peace park', which again is about two acres of open land, dotted with old gravestones and mature trees. The 'Peace park' is fenced on all sides, and has a very heavy cast iron gate at the entrance (above); perfect for dog walking, or in Billy's case 'dog running'. 

He never fails to meet an established friend, or make new ones. This morning just as I was leaving he met a look-alike Border Collie; we left just too early. They'll meet again another time to play together.

Here he is, below, having great fun with a 3 month old Australian Shepherd Dog. They didn't stay still long enough for a decent photo, but you get the idea.

Of course the owners also all become friends, and the dog-owning community is wide, varied, and very interesting. Another bonus of city life.

Yesterday I had my first experience of taking away Billy's detritus. Really not as unpleasant a process as I'd imagined. Another side to dog-owning life; it HAS to be done!

Lost and Found.

Never a dull moment.

Yesterday, whilst dog-walking, Lady Magnon found a couple of plastic cards in the churchyard; maybe it was even Billy who found them. One was a Driving Licence, the other a Santander, contactless, credit card. Both were currently valid.

My first instinct was to call the police to see if anyone had reported them either stolen or missing. I was fobbed-off by some 'clerk' who suggested that I try 'Social Media'.

The only form of 'Social Media' to which I subscribe is Facebook, so I entered the name which appeared on the Driving Licence, and up she came at once. Luckily she had an unusual name.

I sent a message, to which she instantly replied. We arranged that she would pick up her cards chez nous that afternoon. She wasn't very forthcoming about how she'd lost them, but she had cancelled the bank card. It still remains something of a mystery. Anyway, she was extremely happy to have them back.

I have only lost my wallet once. It was at Cahors railway station, and it contained not only money, but all my plastic cards and other important stuff. I was totally devastated. Two days later a 'tramp' arrived at the house with the whole lot intact. As you might imagine, I was instantly elated. I crossed his palm with silver, and thanked him profusely. He claimed to have walked the 50Kms from Cahors to return it.

p.s. Not long before the girl arrived, I was looking out from our front bay window and was shocked to see a beautiful young Fox lying down on our doorstep. 

Flint Walling.

I love Flint walls.

In her fascinating 1936 book 'Sussex Cottage', Esther Meynell briefly talks of her love for Flint walls. Having been brought-up in Sussex, they had always been something I'd taken for granted, but she made me look again at them in a new light. 

Unfortunately the book is in France, so I cannot refer to it. 'The net' is woefully short of all the intriguing names I was looking for. However, here are a few favourites that I do remember.

This very regular form of round Flint work, above, is called 'Potato Plant' (for obvious reasons). The rows of Flints are separated by a line of pointing, and the whole job looks extremely smart. It's a shame that this nearby example has been painted. 

A method reserved for high status buildings, churches, etc, is this 'Square knapped' work. You can imagine the hours of work involved 'knapping' every Flint to the same size; an art in itself. The Flints are then laid almost like bricks; a very beautiful technique.

And finally, possibly the most common method of building with Flint is known as 'Snail Creep', where halved flints are arranged in an almost haphazard way, leaving a very pleasant looking textured wall, bordered by either stone or brick.

Flint walling is not exclusively found in Sussex, examples can be found throughout East Anglia; especially in Norfolk; in fact wherever Flint is found. These three examples are from within a few metres of our own 'Flintless' home.