That Pork Pie.

I have now returned to Waitrose, and bought another of their lovely hand-made Pork Pies.

It's a fluted pie; not that that makes any difference to its taste, simply its visual appeal.

I did not repeat my purchase of the dreadful Bury Black Pudding!!!

I now see that they're called 'Walkers Pork Pies', and, I learn from their web page, that they are made especially for Waitrose.

I'm also very pleased to say that this second pie lived-up to the standard of the first, and can be recommended 100%. I can honestly say it's the best Pork Pie I've eaten in a very long time. Many may not notice the difference immediately, but I have a degree in Pork Pie eating; and I know what I'm talking about.

Very much a cut above all the other pies I eaten since October, and I would suggest that if you're looking for a quality pie, pop down to your nearest Waitrose, and buy a Walkers Pie from their deli counter. You won't be disappointed.

Price: £2.75p. Enough for four healthy Ascot or Henley appetites. 

Anthony Wedgewood-Benn's 1998 Speech on Iraq.

The current Russian war made me think back to this.

I was never really a fan of Anthony Wedgwood-Benn; he wasn't known as 'The Most Dangerous Man in Britain' for nothing. However, I've always admired this speech of his, warning against his party leader Tony Blair's proposed attack on Iraq, in conjunction with the USA. A classic parliamentary speech, which others on his benches should study closely.

In 1998, a four day bombing campaign against military targets in Iraq called 'Operation Desert Fox' took place, and was to become the start of a protracted war against Iraq and Afghanistan that has so far killed anywhere up to half a million people.

This below is how Wedgwood-Benn advised voting against the war. Note wee Jeremy Corbyn in the background. Wedgie would have been horrified to know that his lap-dog would later become leader of his beloved party.

I'm still amazed that Blair hasn't faced charges of war crimes over his actions (as I trust will Putin). His constant claims that Iraq had WMD's (Weapons of Mass Destruction) were pure fabrication, and it was on these lies that his hostility was based. 

People get a life sentence (and rightly so) for one murder; we might have thought that starting an 'illegal war' that ended with the deaths of around 500,000 might have at least got him a £100 fine. But no!

I think Putin should take note of Wedgie's speech. The KGB might have referred to him as an 'unnecessary simpleton', but his wise words prove otherwise. What a wonderful speech!

Forbidden fruit

 

Completely out of the blue, my Doc' phoned me last week suggesting that I take STATINS. Why he suddenly thought this was a good idea, I have no idea.

We had a short chat about them, and I explained that I HAD been advised to take them many years ago, but had been put-off by rumours of ill effects.

My Doc' said that all those rumours had now been disproved, and they were 100% safe.

I said "OK".

I picked-up my scrip a few days later (after a few hiccups from Boots), and, as normal, the Pharmacist asked me if I'd taken them before. 

I said I hadn't, so he explained that I may have headaches as a result of taking them, in which case I should consult my Doc'. He also said that on no account should I eat Grapefruit whist taking them, as this could have some very unpleasant side-effects.

So, guess what young Kimbo brought down with him from London this past weekend? Yes, you've got it.... a Grapefruit (above). I love Grapefruit.

Luckily he also brought a couple bottles of Champagne (what a good boy), some Mother's Day gifts, and some interesting looking packet noodle soups from Singapore (below) which I can't wait to try.

However, I'm not allowed to eat the Grapefruit.

Haute Provence - Gueuleton

It's been a while, but here are Arthur and Vincent back on the road again; this time in beautiful Haute Provence.

Just look at that landscape at 1min 35. Not surprising that it's one of the most sought-after regions of France. At 1min 20, the gentleman with the glasses and white hair is introduced as the Mayor of the smallest commune in France (Majastres); with just 4 inhabitants. As the man said; the smallest commune with the fattest Mayor! Wouldn't you love a Mayor like him!

Lots of high jinks, eating, and drinking again, there's even a plate of Pieds et Paquets at the end; a true Provençal dish. 

Good fun food, lovely Southern accents, and all in a beautiful landscape.

Nancy Ska Jazz Orchestra-Hatcha!

I've posted this video twice before, but it's so good it's worth another outing.

Great tune, wonderful musicianship, and they all seem to be having such a good time. The composer is the 'bone player in the white cap; Youssef Essawabi.

Who runs this place?

They used to be known as Boots the Chemist, but now they're known as just plain Boots; probably for good reason.

The Boots store in central Brighton is BIG. It's on two floors, with each floor covering an area roughly the size of a Football pitch and stands.

Downstairs is given to perfumes, make-up, and over the counter first-aid and chemical things; then stuffed into the far corner is the tiny Pharmacy (below).

The small town near my home in France has a population of about 700, and the Pharmacy is modern, efficient, and friendly. Brighton has a population of about 290,000 and this particular central Pharmacy (there are others) is tiny, inefficient, old fashioned and slow. Dare I say it, but the staff are mostly 'foreign' and they can also be very difficult to understand.

Whilst a huge area is given over to heavily made-up young women who are only too pleased to practice their art on passers-by (but rarely seem to find anyone willing) the area given to the Chemist's is miniscule and very old fashioned. The only thing modern about them is the 'Prescriptions' sign.

Their stock of tablets are all found on some revolving merry-go-round in the middle of their small room, and every time someone spins it, it looks as if it's about to fall to bits.

If I was the CEO of Boots, I'd be having a serious look at all my stores. Someone should do a time and motion study. Huge queues at the tiny pharmacy, no-one at the make-up dep'ts, and a huge baby dep't upstairs that is permanently empty. It doesn't take a genius to know what needs to be done!

p.s. I might add that M & S needs the same attention. 99% of the people who enter our large store head directly to the food dep't, which I think makes-up about 15% of the store's area. The clothes dep't, and home wares dep't that occupy half the ground floor, all of the first floor, and all of the second floor, are mostly empty. 

Doh!

Banking?

Banking ain't what it used to be.

This wasn't my very first bank account, but it was the first that I'd set-up by myself, and had total control over. My salary went there, my rent was payed from there, and it allowed me to live a totally independent life in London. I must have opened this account in 1964.

Williams Deacon's had the feel of a private bank about it. My branch was in Cheapside, in The City of London. It had a commissionaire at the door, the interior was oak panelled, and there were very comfortable leather seats for clients to relax in. The tellers all wore classic City-Style dark jackets and striped trousers, and I'd actually been interviewed (interrogated) by the manager before being granted an account; they didn't want any riff-raff. It was also a 'non clearing' bank, which meant that one had an extra day or two before a cheque cleared.

When I received my first cheque book, I was very pleased, and rather amused, to see that I had become an 'Esq'. This has remained ever since, which I shall explain later. Flattery works wonders!

Sadly Williams Deacon's didn't last, and in 1970 it became Williams and Glyns. Williams and Glyn's in turn then became Royal Bank of Scotland in 1985, and since 2020 it's simply a part of the giant NatWest Group. It hasn't improved. The only thing that has outlived all the changes is that I'm still referred to as 'Esq' on my cards and cheques. Regardless of all this upheaval, I have somehow remained faithful.

My current branch has now closed. The last time I visited there was simply a reception desk, and a few small office cubicles, if one actually needed to speak to someone (and if they were available). I'm not sure where my new branch is.... they haven't told me!

In France banking is even worse than here. Add serious French arrogance to the lack of personal service, and you'll understand what I mean. You are made to feel as if YOUR money belongs to THEM, and how dare you ask for any. Even putting cash IN is a nightmare. They look down on their clients as being no more than an unnecessary inconvenience; or worse.

When I think back to Williams Deacon's it seems like a totally different age. The Commissionaire would raise his topper as he held open the door for me, the tellers all referred to me as 'Sir', and nothing was too much for them. I know such things will never return, but it would be lovely if they could.