Archive for the ‘early one morning’ Category

We hired a Hoseasons boat

Tuesday, March 26th, 2024

I lay in bed awake last night. All quiet except I was sure I could hear a humming sound. No idea where it came from and it isn’t there now. Hmm (geddit). The street lights lit up the window. Were it not for the fact that he doesn’t come on a Tuesday I could imagine the milkman swinging by the drive with a couple of bottles.

Now up and at it. Bacon and egg for breakfast. With brown sauce.

The wireless set brings news of a container ship hitting a bridge in Baltimore in the United States. Obvs this is a serious event as there are people unaccounted for in the water and it is going to cause huge disruption to local transportation. 

I am in no way attempting to make light of this sitch but it did make me think back to a family holiday on the Thames when we were kids. We hired a Hoseasons boat and as we approached Oxford hit the big stone central column of a bridge. There was plenty of room so it was purely down to driver error. I don’t recall who was driving at the time and I am not here to pass judgement. The bridge in our case is still there.

There were a couple of other incidents I recall on that trip. Firstly when we moored at a grassy bank somewhere I was hammering a big iron peg in order to tie up to. It was raining and the mallet slipped out of my hands and into the water. Oops. Had to strip off and dive in for it.

Then there was the other occasion where Ann, Sue and I went for a walk through a park. It was raining again! I remember saying to the others that you didn’t very often see grass tennis courts these days when suddenly someone shouted angrily for us to get off their land. We had inadvertently walked into someone’s garden! Hey…

Zen and the art of the milk round

Saturday, March 9th, 2024

Zen and the art of the milk round

It came to me at about five thirty ey em this morning. I was lying awake in bed pondering whether to get up. The birds had started singing and clearly morning was well into its stride. However I was trying to decide whether nodding off again might be a prospect.

In the interim seconds or minutes before I did indeed drop off my thoughts turned to the art of delivering milk. I played with how this might be described, at least in a title:

Zen and the art of milk floats, Zen and the philosophy of milk floats, the philosophy of the milk round etc etc etc I decided that Zen and the art of the milk round would suffice as a working title. These things tend to stick

I don’t know anything about the milkman. His job entails very antisocial hours as far as regular social norms go. Presumably he is used to this. You do from time to time hear about people in such jobs who do it because it frees them up during the rest of the day to write their play or book or similar. Might this be the case here?

He turns up three times a week at ours, usually with two pints of milk but doubled up if the next delivery is due on a bank holiday. I was going to say he turns up like clockwork but his delivery times do vary significantly, any time between three and five ey em. Why is this? No pattern has emerged as yet. Is there back story here?

The job may be seen as very philosophical. A milkman can very much get in a zone when on his round. The same houses, the same order, apart, as I said from the bank holiday example, the same route. Other than the fact that people do vary their orders, family comes to visit etc, there is no need to think.

In one sense it is almost like being a long distance runner. You set off and get in the groove. Your mind is focussed on one thing, or indeed nothing, in order to get you around those twenty six miles without constantly wondering how much further is there to go or thinking what a waste of three hours fifteen minutes this is. Insert your own time.

Each house visited is different but at the same time similar in that it only takes a few second to drop off the milk before jumping back on the float and moving on to the next.

There are other factors of note. A milk round is a historic entity, at least in recent modern history. It brings with it the stability of familiarity. A comfort level in knowing there will be milk on the table at breakfast to feed the kids their porridge, or chocolate covered sugar bombs.

Part of me would like to know more about the man himself but this would probably destroy the enigma, the mystique around the function he performs. I don’t like to think of him as being part of a well oiled machine but there is an element of that. The customer facing element of a system that begins with cows grazing in lush green fields on a hillside in deepest Britain.

I wonder how long on average a milkman stays in the job? Is it something they can only do for a few years and then burn out or is it normally a job for life, a vocation. I’m not sure the work prepares you for anything other than delivering milk although employment opportunities could, I suppose, be available in the modern post covid logistics market.

Then you have to ask yourself what does a milkman do when he retires. How does he cope with the fact that he no longer needs to get up at two ey em to feed the horse before setting off on his round. Not that they use horses to pull milk carts these days. At least I never hear the clippety clop of hooves and the milkman arrives and departs. Also the dairy is fifteen miles away in Newark a horse would not be practical.

I daresay there is more to think about when it comes to the art of the milk round which will no doubt reveal itself in due course. 

Ciao amigos.

the great question of life

Wednesday, March 6th, 2024

I was aware of being awake at around five twenty five this morning. Shortly after this I opened one eye and noted the time had moved on ten minutes, then a further twenty. 

You lie there in bed pondering the great question of life, ie whether to get up or not. The issue is that your current sitch is v cosy and the act of rising brings uncertainty. Will it be cold downstairs. Certainly colder than the bed.

Sometimes I drift off again but on this occasion I didnt appear to do so. I don’t like lying there gratuitously wasting time just being awake. Eventually I said sod it and got up. 

So I’m downstairs with the birds. They had already decided it was time to wake up and are nattering away to each other. Already dawn, although I wasn’t sure whether the lightening of the sky through the back window was just light pollution here in the middle of town.

Down in the snug it also happens to be cosy. I’m tucked under a nice quilt made by THG some time ago that now adorns the back of one of the sofas. On the footstool in front of me lie a few balls of wool. Warm colours, blue, light green and grey. We have a nice place to live. Thanks to THG.

Being a Wednesday it is already half way through the working week, depending on which day you consider to be the start, obvs. In Israel they are already considering going in to the office because tomorrow is the last day of the week. Timeshift.

This week has so far gone quite quickly. It’s been pretty productive. Productivity isn’t always measured by work output although that depends on what you call work. Stuff that I get paid to do has been productive but also important stuff that we fill the rest of our lives with is also looking good. You have to look positively on life anyway but sometimes it is easier to do this. 

I’ve not thought much about what lies ahead with the day. Plenty of time for that. Sometimes it is nice to just drift for a bit. Time surf. Go where life takes you, even if it is just for an hour or two.

It is very much time I got my hair cut. I can grab hold of it at the back which means it is too long. Been thinking of trying the barber in the Carlton Centre. Will see if I have time this afternoon. Valuable stuff, time.

It is also time I made the tea. Gosh that went quickly dinnit. The milkman came at three seventeen this morning. That’s almost as early as it gets although he did a three oh two one Wednesday in January.

Ciao.

Interestingly I haven’t been anywhere since I sold the car. The one exception is when THG and I went to Wickes to buy some wood glue. She drove me and stayed in the car whilst I nipped in. Oh, also Coops and I went to pick up one of our camper vans from storage last night. He drove.

This is partly because I’ve been busy at home and partly because I haven’t really needed to go anywhere. THG does most of the shopping, largely because I always spend too much on stuff we don’t really need. Also I’m not insured on her current wheels. Picking up some new ones for her this pm which alters that.

I take it everyone is looking forward to this year’s Academy Awards. It’s this coming Sunday so not long to wait now. Truth be told I’m not sure I know anyone who is interested, except perhaps for my cousin Ken. it is quite unlikely I would even recognise those participating and being given an award.

Spring seems very much in the air. Still quite nippy mind you. My question is when do we officially recognise that spring has arrived? Is there a particular plant that blossoms? I don’t want dates. I want real life nature telling us that change is afoot. What’s the answer? I am looking forward to the day when the shed doors are flung open to the garden and I become at one with nature, as they say. This will be spring.

the time is right

Sunday, March 3rd, 2024

No milkman today. Sunday. We do need some though so someone will have to pop out this morning to buy a pint or two. Might not be me. THG reminded me that I was only insured on her car by virtue of the fully comp insurance on my own. This morning the place where I normally park my car is empty. The car, as you know, has gone.

I feel no regret about selling the Defender. Somehow it feels liberating, almost like being a student again. As a student I went everywhere by public transport, or walked. No responsibilities. No thoughts to the future. It’s almost as if the direction of travel is back to that era.

It was great to have driven the Defender for the four years or so that I had it. People would ask me cynically why I needed 4×4 gas guzzler and I would reply “because it can drive through rivers, up mountains and across deserts and glaciers”. “When would I ever use it for that” they would reply. They didn’t understand. I could do it if I needed to.

There was only really once where I did need the off road capabilities of the car. Last autumn before catching the ferry home from France I filled in some time visiting the Normandy beaches. On one occasion I set the sat nav for one of the beaches, Gold maybe, or Omaha, and found myself driving down a farm track into a field full of sunflowers. I should have been suspicious but every farm track seemed to have a name which gave it some sense of being a real road so I figured Waze must know what it was doing.

It didn’t. I could see the beach a few hundred metres away on the screen but between me and it was nothing. My choice was reversing half a mile along a narrow, high sided Normandy farm track or going into the field and turning around. Fortunately there was around five metres around the edge of the field with no crops which was just enough for me to do a three point turn. For the Land Rover this presented no problem. 

It was good while it lasted and I have now moved on. The next step is to sell the campervans. We decided that after eight years of being in the vintage campervan rental business it had run its course. The vans are going to be sold and the business closed. 

Running a VW campervan business has been a very cool thing to do. There have been highs and lows, but mostly highs. It felt great when people would bring back a campervan and rave about the experience. Some would not want to hand the keys back and some customers return year after year. 

The lows have been the occasional breakdown but that is all about how you handle it. We would give people a full refund and fortunately our hirers were fairly phlegmatic about those situations. After all these are fifty year old vans and things could go wrong.

Overall the experience was very positive but we now feel comfortable about getting our freedom back during the summer months. The time is right.

Selling my car and deciding to sell the vans has provided a remarkable sense of release, of moving on. I’m quite excited about what the future might bring. I have some ideas about things to do and I still have project Netxis project which although it has its ups and downs as businesses do it is mostly good fun. I think I have the balance right.

In the meantime it is nearly six thirty in the morning, dawn has arrived, the birds are singing and it is time to make THG a cup of tea.

pommes de terre sarladaises

Sunday, February 18th, 2024

Woke up early this morning at around five fifteen. My first thoughts were that instead of steak, I would have pork escalopes with blue cheese sauce and pommes de terre sarladaises for tonight’s tea. Note my natural writing style would have said pommes sarladaises but that would have been misleading so I changed it. Only realised when I checked on the sbelin of sarladaises. Obvious really!

I know those were my first thoughts because I made a point of remembering them in order to write them down. I hardly ever remember dreams themselves, as opposed to first thoughts which I also hardly ever remember 🙂

I picked up my liking for pommes de terre sarladaises when on holiday in Montaigu de Quercy last autumn where they regularly featured on local menus. V tasty I thought to meself. The first time I had them was at a cafe in some small hilltop town or village whose name escapes me but where I also bought a case of malbec. 

My other recollection from that occasion was the observation that most of the other diners at lunch were British expats. Probs mentioned this before but turned out that 60% of the homes thereabouts were owned by such people. I did wonder what the attraction was. OK it was a beautiful area with relatively cheap housing, compared with the UK anyway, and cheapish wine, but there was bugger all to do and most of the inhabitants were old. You go there to die and the process is probably accelerated by boredom. And loneliness.

Anyway let’s move on. Today, according to my macbook, is a Saturday. Le laitier ne vient pas aujourd’hui as they would say in Montaigu de Quercy although I doubt they have such an individual there. We have a day of log moving and football watching ahead of us. THG will also start the day with her usual Park Run and I will not. 

Feels as if I’ve already fast forwarded to night time. Liverpool will have comfortably beaten Brentford and Man City held to a stale one all draw at home to Chelski who finally start to find some form. Well you never know. Lincoln City will also have beaten Exeter at home in a mid table clash. Could even pop down to see them though probs won’t. As I think of it, I have a few jobs to do.

As you might know I have been away, in the Southern Hemisphere, and am now home. The trip is still fresh in the memory, partly because I’m not sure the body is totally recovered from it, yet.

I have a few observations. Firstly the weather here is not the same as in South Africa. Ok this is stating the bleedin obvious but it is what it is. Although we often complain about the weather here in the disunited kingdom I couldn’t live somewhere where it was nice and sunny all or most of the time. One can always pop over for a sunshine fix if that is your bag.

I like the fact that on some days we “have” to light a fire and sit in front of it reading, or knitting, whatever does it for you. Not sure I’d buy a house without an open fire, not that we have any plans to move.

The second observation is that our very excellent safari guide was called Jeremy and the tracker, Hendry. Today the team will be out in their truck with a new set of punters who will gaze in astonishment at the rich diversity of wildlife to be seen in the Kruger low veldt. The point is life goes on wherever you are in the world. I find this to be quite surreal. It is somehow like the light inside the fridge. Only on when you open the door. The safari in South Africa is only on when I am there otherwise it doesn’t exist. Same for everywhere else in the world.

As a person my whole life revolves around me and those close to me. This is something I came to realise a long time ago. We are all so insignificant and our time on this planet is so fleetingly short that you have to stay focused on what matters. Yes we can worry about global warming, do our bit even and some may have observations about conflicts around the world, famine and strife. I pay politicians to handle this sort of thing. It’s what floats their boat, regardless of what you might personally think about that/them.

My final observation, for now, is that I hear movement upstairs. It is time to make a brew 🙂

“Thought for the day” is on the wireless. Time to get up.

I quite like putting pen to paper, metaphorically speaking. If I used a real pen and paper I’d need my hand amputating within days. I am painfully slow and pretty illegible with it. If I have a hobby, writing stuff is it.

I also like travelling but I feel as if I could throttle back on that a bit. Even doing it in comfort and style, travel takes it out of you. Also I’ve seen a lot of the world already. Doesn’t feel as exciting as it might have done at one time. The recent trip to the Kruger is an exception.

We do have biggish trip lined up this year, to the Paris Olympics and then Normandy. Me and THG, plus a few pals for the Paris bit. We also have a littleish trip to the Isle of Man for Easter. All good stuff.

What I’d really like to do is stop working completely and focus on writing a few books I have in mind. Trouble is I like doing what I do and don’t want to completely stop, at least not for the moment and so I can’t dedicate time to the books.

T minus four

Friday, January 26th, 2024

Five ten. That is a time, of day. That is the time right now. Ey em. Was awake so got up. Heard the wind and presumably rain bashing the house. Figured we had definitely moved on from the freezing cold, for the moment at least. 

I like both the rain and the freezing cold and, indeed, the combination of the two which is snow obvs. Unless it is hailstones which are nowhere near as nice as snow although they are interesting. I think on the very rare occasion we get hailstones I always exclaim, ‘hey it’s hailing’. It’s an automatic reaction. I must do the same thing when it snows. It’s a fairly rare occurrence hereabouts. In these parts. Lincoln.

Don’t know about you but I definitely talk to the sat nav. When she tells me to turn left I say ‘thank you’. If she repeats herself too often I say ‘okay, okay I got you the first time’. When my car was at the menders THG and I were off on a trip somewhere in her car and using Waze on her phone. Boy did the woman have an irritating voice. I had to give her the boot and hire someone else. Would have driven me crazy to have had to listen to her the whole way.

Five ten is quite early for me to get up and go downstairs. I typically wait until half past, if I am awake, but I’ve taken to turning the face of the clock radio away from me as I read something about light disturbing your sleep patterns. The downside of this is that I can’t easily see the time but we shouldn’t always live our lives by the clock. Let nature take over.

I’m not always awake that early. Sometimes I look at the clock and say ‘gosh it’s a quarter to seven’ or similar. Then whoever is on tea duty will jump out of bed and rush downstairs to get it done. Ish.

The milkman came, fag in hand, at three twelve ey em today. Brought a couple of pints. I thought we had cancelled this delivery but clearly I know noothing. I was immediately able to pinpoint the exact time of delivery as last night I very sensibly cleared the cobwebs from around the camera out front. No false positives due to moving cobwebs. They were getting to be v noisy. It’s ok, it’s sorted.

Today I have a clear diary. Just a bit of banking to do. Invoices to pay. That kind of thing. Doesn’t mean I won’t be doing anything nosiree Bob. Means I can get on with things. Might also squeeze in a swim but meeting @Guy in the Star at four ish so see how that goes.

It’s a bit of a treat going to the pub, albeit for just an hour or two. It’s not a frequent occasion nowadays believe it or not. This is largely because I’m trying to stick to a keto diet which means no beer and the whole point of going to a pub is to drink beer. Gin is ok but they only dish it out by the thimbleful in pubs so not really worth the effort.

THG is off out to see a pal tonight so when I get home I have a Charlie Bigham’s CTM for my tea. Got it reduced in Waitrose on Wednesday. I had planned on getting a Madras using the money off voucher that was on my Waitrose App but they didn’t have any in stock. The CTM is nice anyway. Got some onion bhajis to go with it, yum.

One of the things I always look forward to after a trip overseas is a proper British curry. They just don’t do them properly anywhere else. You have to be careful with your choice of curry house, even in the UK. Some are much better than others. I’m sure we all have a favourite. The problem in Lincoln is that my fave, the Castle View, doesn’t deliver and after a few Guinnesses in the Star I won’t be able to go and collect, hence the Charlie Bigham.

Note the use of TLAs here. I wonder if CTM will still be a thing five hundred years hence. Will someone reading my stuff at that time know what on earth I am on about. Probs not. You could probably say the same thing today 🙂

A road cleaner noisily  makes its way down the road outside our house. I guess it is a good time of day to clean the roads. I’ll inspect the work later. See if I can tell the difference.

T-4 and time to make the tea.

wireless set

Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

Awake from around five thirty ish, I think, and switched on the wireless. Dozed a bit. Listened to the news. It’s quite refreshing to hear of problems with flooding otherwise it’s all war and politics stuff. Why are there so many knobheads in the world? I realise those affected by flooding won’t be looking at it with the same perspective. 

I think I only have the news on as a soporific background noise. THG will normally make a comment about a news item and I have to ask for clarification as I won’t have been listening even though the set is only eighteen inches away. Forty five centimetres.

Quite like the idea of the wireless set. I only use that term here. When using the spoken word I call it a radio. I’m probably being nostalgic. Dunno when it changed from being a wireless set to a radio. It is never a radio set. 

We held the regular scout group committee meeting last night. Much of the conversation was around the shortfall in fundraising since the cancellation of the Lincoln Christmas Market. A few activities in the pipeline to try and replace the revenues. I daresay many local organisations and businesses will have been affected. Westgate School used to make something like ten grand renting out the hall to stallholders and didn’t need to do any fundraising during the rest of the year.

On Friday we have the annual scout leaders Christmas party, held every year in January. Something we always look forward to. I’ve ordered prawn cocktail starter, bangers and mash main and apple crumble pud. What’s not to like? Simple fare. It isn’t always about foie gras, beef wellington and sherry trifle yanow. Hopefully there will be cheese and biscuits 🙂.

Outside it is freezing again, as it should be. Thankfully by Saturday the temperature is set to rise to a heady six degrees by mid afternoon. This is good as Tom and I are off to watch Leicester Tigers in a European cup game against Leinster. Last thing we want is for the match to be abandoned because of a frozen pitch. 

It will still be cold. I remember many years ago rocking up at Lincoln Rugby Club on the off chance of getting a game. Ended up playing on the wing somewhere up north. It was so cold I had to wear a jumper underneath my rugby jersey and being on the wing I hardly saw the ball. Bloody forwards! I forgot to take a towel so had to use the same jumper to dry myself off after the shower. Happy days.

We cancelled today’s milk delivery as there is plenty in the fridge.

T-13

unsubscribe

Tuesday, December 12th, 2023

Unsubscribe. This was the text of an email I sent/replied to a bloke I’ve never ‘eard of. This isn’t quite true. I got an email off him last Christmas and I suspect one the year before. It began ‘I know you’ve all been waiting for my latest Seasonal message!’ I hadn’t.  His was a cheery end of year missive full of bonhomie with links to videos he’d created illustrating his knowledge of subjects unknown, because I didn’t read the text or watch the movie. Artificial Intelligence. That was it.

I must have picked him up on LinkedIn or simlar. Not aware that I’ve ever met him. He works for ‘a pre-eminent Global law firm providing its clients with exceptional quality and value’. Just looked em up.

I remember getting last year’s Christmas email and pondering whether I should take action. It didn’t address me by name. His wasn’t an offensive message. Quite the opposite, packed with seasonal cheer and absolutely nothing to dislike. I let it go. Last year.

This year’s email tipped me over the edge. I looked for an unsubscribe button. There wasn’t one. The email was a personal albeit bcc job as opposed to being from a mailer. So I just replied simply saying ‘unsubscribe’.

Within seconds I got a personal reply mentioning  my name (Trefor – nobody calls me Trefor, I’m Tref) and saying I would be removed from his list. I felt bad. He had put a lot of thought into his Christmas message and it is Christmas for goodness sake. Still spam though.

I have tens of thousands of unread emails. Every now and again I delete the ones from my trefor.net account as it approaches capacity. I don’t need more. I have a Hotmail account for registering with sites I think might spam me. The only time I ever look at it is when I need to click on a link to validate the address.

This bloke should stick to LinkedIn for his Christmas messages. Somewhere where if you know him you can choose to read his message because he is a good old boy and his stuff is always interesting and witty. Or not. 

Anyway, now is the time to move on.

Last night I watched some seventies rock classics on YouTube. Sweet Child In Time was one. They all had very flat stomachs and beautifully kept long hair. The beautifully kept hair bit doesn’t feel right for rockers. Wild and unmanageable sounds more appropriate.  They must have all been softies underneath that alcohol and drug fuelled hotel room trashing image. ‘Anyone got any conditioner?’

I quite like the notion of being able to earn a living at something like being a rock star. I don’t want to be a rock star per se and I am not in the right demographic really (obvs). Needs to be something different. Something cool where people would think omg I wish I could do that. Problem is I don’t want the publicity that might go with it. I wouldn’t want w@$%^rs attacking me on social media because I was successful. 

I dunno. Something will turn up 😀 I’m sure we all sometimes think about what we would like to do when we grow up. Somewhere over the rainbow there is a land where happiness reigns. Many people dream of it. Nothing wrong with yearning for utopia. Keep looking. You will get there. Probs. Mañana.

In other news it is good to hear that poetry book sales are on the rise, apaz. Not sold any of mine for years. Lemme know if you want one. I still have copies. Tenner.

The milkman doesn’t come on a Tuesday.

It is btw v yukky out there again. I’ve breakfasted well on avocado toast with a side of smoked bacon and am now sipping tea before getting on with the day. There is much to be getting on with today and we have also decided to at least start thinking about the Christmas food shopping.

This is relatively easy as we reuse the same spreadsheet every year. I will need to preorder a turkey crown. We usually have beef which will be on the menu again in 2023 but the reintroduction of turkey into the diet has been requested on a supplementary basis. 

The great thing this year is that we have no plans to go away after Boxing Day, or even on Boxing Day so we will be able to spend a few days eating leftovers. It will also encourage me to buy a bigger beef joint. Nothing quite like very pink in the middle beef sandwiches and the bigger the joint the juicer the meat. 

Not going away will also save a lot of dosh on hotel rooms. Fwiw. There are a lot of us.

Dark now. I have Christmas lights up in the shed. They need properly arranging really but I stuck em up quickly last night. It’s the first time I’ve had lights. These normally go on the tree in the front room but this year THG has decided white lights are in so I’ve repurposed the multicoloured ones that I really like 🙂

five twenty four

Tuesday, November 21st, 2023

Goldarnit it is five twenty four, am, and I’m awake, bright eyed and up and at it. No point in resisting. Worst thing you can do is lie in bed trying to get some more kip when your body is saying, nope, it’s fine, had enough thanks, let’s get up and tend to the crops or go and hunt or gather some breakfast.

So I’m downstairs. In the tee vee room tending to the crops. Don’t like calling it the tv room. Not sure a tv is something that should have a room dedicated to it. More like a snug with a tv on the wall. It is snug,. Cosy. Only negative thing is that it is in the front of the house and therefore has road noise. Even at five twenty four, albeit occasional. More noticeable when the noise isn’t constant.

What is it that makes people drive somewhere at this hour? I know that society has to operate. Folk have to get into work for the start of the early shift. Others are on their way home after locking up at the night club. I suppose although it is only Tuesday. I think.

Comes back to this clock thing. Time. Ordered time. We only have a certain amount of it.  We chop it up into discrete periods and cram as much stuff in as possible. I can let you have seven minutes thirty five seconds. Well maybe.

Not sure why we bother with a television per se. There is rarely anything on I want to watch. If we are sat in the snug, as I now seem to call it, for the moment at least, as often as not I have my headphones on to avoid having to hear Greg Wallace or whatever that woman is called who seems to be on every cooking, knitting and woodworking show going. A presenter for the sake of being a presenter. Trying to encourage the contestants!

I like a bit of woodworking meself but don’t feel the need to watch a woodworking competition on the telly. It’ll be ludo next, or scrabble, or poetry writing. I do have a work bench in the garage that I could use to do my own woodworking although it is a little on the small side. It was made to measure to fit in the available space next to one of the fridge freezers. Could have moved the FF and had a bigger one but the FF is there because there is shelving to its left. Could have made the shelving shorter I suppose…

The shed is a multi purpose facility in the garden that could accommodate a decent sized workbench.  One of my thoughts during its planning and construction is that the shed would serve as an office, a studio and a workspace for the nurturing of creativity. Manãna. I could fit a workbench in there but would have to get rid of the second desk that is used by visiting offspring to ‘work from home’.

Spent some time last night working on the playlist for trefbash 14. Regulars will know that the format, almost since the get go, has been live jazz from around six pm until the food is served at sevenish followed by bopping to funk/swing/whateva thereafter. The clamour has been for more live bopping after the food and so what the people want the people get. The pre nosh jazz has been replaced with more funky dancing afterwards.

This year’s theme is ‘music festival’ and my thinking is sixties festival stuff until the food. Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Jimi Hendrix. That kind of vibe. We shall see. You will find out soon enough. Not long now. If you’ve never been and want to come drop me a line. I’ll squeeze you in.

Drizzly blustery walk to the shed this morning. I quite like this weather. Just switched the heating on so it will take a few mins to get to temperature. Switched on my machine and all the windows were already up and in position. Four email accounts/domains. Three businesses and a tref. I have had to close the news sites windows. Dunno why I even bother. Climate change, war, famine.

THG is going away for a couple of nights leaving me in charge. Not sure I like the responsibility. Tomorrow is bin day and I’ve already forgotten which one goes out. I’ll be able to see what others in the street do so that takes care of that. As long as I remember.

I do get to choose dinner. Tonight is very possibly steak night. Tomorrow is another day. Just another day. Problem is I quite fancy beans in toast but that ain’t keto friendly.

Foggy start

Saturday, September 2nd, 2023

Looking out of the cottage first floor window at the line of fishing boats tied up next to each other in Killybegs harbour. Ireland’s premier fishing port and we are smack bang in the middle of it. 

They are wonderful looking boats. The nearest is Pacelli D383. Most people here are associated with the fishing industry one way or another. Times are not great since they were forced to give up some quota post brexshit. UK waters. Mackerel don’t recognise territoriality 🙂

Bright lights are still on around the quayside as it is very foggy, a fact that was drawn to my attention by the foghorn blasting out periodically. Presumably from a nearby lighthouse.

John has gone off surfing with Toby and Lils. 7am start. They are welcome to it. A hardy bunch. John does not have a wetsuit which he may find out to be an issue. We will know soon enough.

Everyone knows everyone here. Was in the Harbour Inn early doors yesterday chatting to an O’Rourke from Leitrim. Mam was an O’Rourke from Leitrim. Spent the night with the extended family: Fidelma, Dearbhla, Rory, Lachlan, Cathy, Claire  et al. Tara Hotel and The Fleet.

Today’s entertainment is a boat trip to the cliffs of Slieve League. Hoping the fog will have lifted. The forecast is good and the fog should burn off. Light winds also which is obvs desirable when going on a long sea journey. 3 hours apaz. Right now the fog does seem to be getting heavier though!

There are signs of life in the cottage. Noises from a downstairs bathroom. I am in the kitchen. A good orientation and hence the view.

I have breakfast options this morning. Sausage sandwich or bacon sandwich. The sausages are Irish recipe and I am tempted. The bacon is just the rubbish you get in supermarkets. Ditto the sausages really but I do have a soft spot for ‘Irish recipe’ as mam used to sometimes serve them up when we were kids. 

Two sandwiches are an option but I do need to pace myself. This trip is a marathon not a sprint. I’l mull it over. No rush. It is a Saturday morning in Killybegs and most non surfers are still snuggled up in bed.

I can see a scenario where a stroll around the corner to buy a paper might be in order. Fishing Times or similar. If they sell it anywhere it will be in Killybegs.

We are joining the boat at one pm this afternoon from a spot in front of the Ahoy Cafe. A goodly emporium if you are looking for bodily sustenance before a long voyage. Or anytime you are hungry I suppose. Had breakfast there with Rory a couple of trips back.

Then just along from there is the ship’s chandlers. A truly wonderful aladdin’s cave selling every kind of cleat, block and tackle and rope going. I love that kind of stuff and have to restrain myself from buying any. Don’t really need it although it would of course look great in the shed. If there was any room which there isn’t. I guess a block and tackle would be perfectly positioned hanging outside under the overhang at the front of the shed. Hmm. I still regret not buying the spitfire squadron scramble bell from Hemswell Antique Centre a few years back. It was a bit on the big side and I already have a bell, albeit a ship’s bell. Keep meaning to go back and see if they still have it.

THG is now up and a second cup of tea has appeared. For the record I made the first, for both of us. I just opted to drink mine in the kitchen where, as you know, I was able to look out over the harbour, were it not blanketed in fog.

the blink of an eye

Wednesday, August 30th, 2023

My right eye blinked open. I could see the time was 5.25. a m. The left eye was buried in the pillow. Awake I contemplated getting out of bed. Should I leave my comfortable spot and get up and do something? It wasn’t even my turn to make the tea. I don’t mind that. Taking extra turns 🙂

Dawn is with us, accompanied by her avian chorus. Welcome to the day.

A busy morning ahead. No rush, for anything. I see snail trails on the patio. We need a pet hedgehog. Wouldn’t need to feed it. Just let it live in the garden and eat slugs and snails. I say this every year but have never got around to building a hedgehog house.

Twilight in the garden. Minimal lighting in the shed. My Lagunitas IPA sign and a couple of handmade lamps from Prendinas. Marseterchef on in the TV room. Silence.

It’s been a busy day. Tomorrow morning the house will be a hive of activity as we load up the car for our trip. All the paperwork has been printed out. Car valeted. Haircut had.

The haircut is a story in itself. I went to Antonios as it is easy to park in Tesco and wander around the corner onto Wragby Road. There are two barbers in residence: Antonio and Alfio, or similar. Antonio is very quick and chatty. Alfio is extremely slow with no conversation whatsoever. 

I arrived at the barbers and there was one guy in front of me in the queue. The two As were clipping away. Then Antonio finished and the next bloke went and sat in the chair. Oh no I thought. I’m going to be stuck with slow Alfio. Fortunately Alfio was so slow and Antonio so quick that the latter had finished the next punter before Alfio’s chair became vacant.

Phew. I strode up and sat in the vacant chair in front of Antonio as soon as it was empty. Yanow the haircut is nothing special but it is number two back and sides with a trim off the top. All I need. All I ask is that I can’t grab the hair at the back of my neck. It will last me a couple of months. £12. No problemo.

pictures, poetry and plays

Thursday, July 27th, 2023

Up early, before six am, having had a good night’s sleep. The rain has moved on for now after leaving its mark. The front room is still a jumble of odds and ends waiting to be packed into the car for tomorrow’s journey to Hannah and George’s new place. A canteen of cutlery, lampshade, soft furnishings, a wallpaper steamer. Odds and ends.

The conservatory sits still like a painting or photograph. The piano, table and chairs and rocking chair, picture on the wall, plants. Must be the light. Raindrops adorn the glazing. The doors are more than slightly ajar.

I have two bookcases in this room. The one next to the door which we had custom built to fit the space is made of walnut. It holds perhaps four hundred and fifty books on seven shelves. Quite a wide bookcase that is secured to the wall at the top. Would not be good if it toppled over.

The other bookcase is smaller and is built of some African wood perhaps. Don’t recall where we picked it up. It contains mostly poetry and plays.

worshipful company of wheeltappers

Wednesday, July 12th, 2023

With sleep filled eyes I walk slowly down the stairs.

The grass needs cutting and it is observed that the lemon tree in the pot in the conservatory has shed most of its leaves. We’ve never managed to grow a lemon. Google tells me we need to feed it regularly and change the top two inches of compost every spring. This we have not been doing, I’m sure. I need to head out this morning so will purchayse some citrus feed. Too late for this season but a lesson learnt. Perhaps.

The day grows brighter.

Today the shed is due a tidy. Gotta shift some stuff to the attic, a task made easier by the fact that John is home for a few days. He has to get back to London for a rehearsal on Monday. He is supporting Rag n Bone man at his Colwyn Bay gig the following weekend. Biggest gig so far. Exciting. Honk that saxophone.

I’ll be in London meself on Monday.

Got tickets for the 5th Prom at the Royal Albert Hall. Quite excited. Bruch’s violin concerto. I have it on vinyl. Dinner beforehand. Italian. Never been to a prom concert. The “last night” puts me off. I can’t cope with that jingoistic stuff. Should be good. We were at the RAH last October for a Pink Martini gig. Very different to Bruch but very fantastic.

There is a pigeon on the conservatory roof.

When you have a cup of tea is it accompanied by a drop of milk or a splash of milk? This thought came to mind this morning over breakfast as I accurately splashed a drop of milk into my cup. This is a skill developed over fifty years or so of drinking tea. I wasn’t an early starter on the tea front. 

It isn’t a science although some nerdy boff or other might have a different view: ‘the ratio of milk to tea needs to be exactly x% for the perfect cup’. Rubbish of course. I mostly drink English breakfast tea but do occasionally stray to a milkless variety such as mint, green or camomile. Something different to add variety to life. We all like variety. A break in our otherwise humdrum existence. Bring back the Wheel Tappers and Shunters Social Club 🙂

Presumably they still have wheeltappers to this day. In the days of cost savings I imagine that drivers have to do their own shunting. Another lost profession. Skill. Wheel tapping is, however, all about health and safety innit. Can’t afford to cut corners there. 

Takes years to properly train a wheeltapper. It’s all about training the ear. Not everyone can do it. You have to be born a wheeltapper. A job handed down through the generations. Wouldn’t surprise me to find that  there is a Worshipful Company of Wheeltappers. They deserve that kind of recognition. Let me know if you come across it. Couldn’t be bothered to look meself 🙂

fresh old morning

Tuesday, July 11th, 2023

Tis a fresh old morning out there. Not entirely true as the day is still relatively young. Fresh it is though. The garden would appear to have had a good soaking overnight. This is as it should be. The correct order of things.

It remains cloudy. Good job there is now a break between test matches. We need some sustained good weather, at least during the day. The next match is in Manchester. Doubly challenging when it comes to weather.

Enough of this meteorological drizzle, I mean drivel. I am expecting a new bag today. A Dr Duffel 70litre in mustard yellow. Seem to have lost my North Face duffel. This will no doubt turn up immediately after the delivery of the new bag. No matter. You can’t have too many duffel bags.

I used to spell duffel duffle. I still do really. It’s just that they market the Dr Duffel job as written so that’s what it is. The beauty of a duffle bag on expedition is its squashiness. Whilst hardshell suitcases are good for aircraft holds and for the battering they receive by the baggage handling system. 

All well and good if your ultimate travel destination requires sitting in airport lounges sipping champagne whilst en route but not so much when loading all your gear for an extended trip in a Land Rover.

Much planning has gone into this forthcoming jaunt to the point where we are taking a bag just for laundry. Ordinarily we use a hotel’s plastic laundry bag and just shove that in one of our bags. The filled laundry bag replaces the space of the clean clothes, ish.

However this trip we will be on the road for over a month. Makes sense to take a laundry bag. Despite the fact that we will be stopping at many a roadside inn, so to speak, these gaffs don’t generally provide a laundry service. Not that we would be daft enough to use a hotel laundry service.

Time was I’d be doing so much international travel that I’d often take dirty laundry with me and get it cleaned as soon as I reached the first destination of my next trip. I wasn’t paying then 🙂 On the second half of this trip we will be stopping at self catering accommodation with washing machines. I’m sure I’ll have enough pairs of pants to make it through the first two and a half weeks 🙂

It’s going to be a shorts and t shirts trip with a jumper thrown in for good measure and a waterproof top because our first destination is Donegal. Socks will not form part of the uniform.

Meanwhile back in Lincoln the wind has got up and it looks as if we are in for a typical British summer’s day. Time to make the tea.

Just harvested a couple of leek seed heads. The green ‘envelope’ had split open and they are now in a paper envelope in the shed. Didn’t want to risk waiting until the seeds had dried out on the stem in case they just fell on the ground or were scoffed by pesky birds.

It has been noted that the shed is in need  of a bit of a tidy. This is so. Need to figure out where to put the gazebo canopies. Loft probs. Johnny boy arrives home for a few days later and he can help me.

bright day in prospect

Tuesday, July 4th, 2023

A bright day in prospect. Not looked at the weather forecast but I can tell you that at the crack of sparrowfart there is nary a cloud in the sky. That is not entirely true as from my perspective in the conservatory I did spot a solitary wisp but glancing back up to double check even that has now moved on.

I was going to say that wisp of cloud ‘evaporated’ but that didn’t feel right. Clouds are surely the result of evaporation in the first place. Or are they condensed. I dunno. It matters little. Only perhaps to Michael Fish and his pals at the meteorological office. Where is he now? Michael Fish.

It is still out there. Nary a breath of wind. A magpie just flew by carrying some nest building material. You would have thought any construction would be finished by now. Perhaps a bit of maintenance. It flew to the top of next door’s pine tree the other side of the fence to the greenhouse. Will keep an eye on that treetop. Magpies are pretty vicious birds. I saw one attacking a blackbird in our garden earlier this year. The magpies are also relative newcomers. I don’t mind a bit of avian variety although small birds would be preferable. I need to sort out the feeders.

A variety of packing to do today. I have, as you know, a shindig in London tomorrow. On thursday morning I hot foot (by train) it to Liverpool for a family funeral. Then Friday it’s back home across the pennines with THG in her car. So that’s three different clothing requirements.

The dress code for the funeral is ‘funeral’. Fair enough. When I go I want the dress code to be ‘hawaiian shirt’ 🙂We were all particularly fond of this uncle who did live to a ripe old age so Thursday will very much be a celebration of his life.

When mam passed away we had a packed church followed by a very good reception at Peel Golf Club where she had been Lady Captain. Then there was a hiatus where some of the family wandered down to the beach and the breakwater. I strolled to the Whitehouse pub and had a couple of quiet pints before meeting the core team for dinner at the Creek Inn whereupon we had a great singsong.

Dad died at a time when lockdown restrictions were still being eased so numbers were constrained. Actually the constraints included the age and infirmity of his friendship group as well as the fact that the funeral was in Cardiff rather than the Isle of Man. We did have a great wake afterwards. They were both celebrated appropriately.

Dad once told me he had been to a funeral of a teacher in the Isle of Man where only a handful of people were present, including the widow and small family. He recalls contrasting this with his own father’s funeral. My grandfather was a miner in South Wales. Miners never lived to retirement age and when they died, prematurely, the whole community would turn out to pay their respects. There were hundreds of people at his funeral.

Enough of this funeral speak. My grandmother, Eluned Davies (nee Lewis) was born in 1907. A hugely different era. It is hard to get your brain around the difference in complexity of the world then and now. No TV, no telephone. A coal fired range instead of gas or electric cooker. Very little English spoken, at least in Cefneithin.

I remember visiting one of dad’s cousins with him a few years back. We spoke in Welsh but I had to seriously concentrate to understand the local dialect. As pure as it came. Rooted in the countryside. Our house was a miner’s cottage in a row opposite the Blaenhirwaun pit.

The evidence of the pit has long since been obliterated, the slag heaps, or tips, reburied underground and the area restored to the parkland it once was. Nothing lasts forever.

When I was a kid we used to spend our summer holidays visiting nana. Highlights of the week would include visits from the Coop van and from John The Baker’s van. We would go on the bus to the market in Llanelli. Mam and dad would head up to the Farmers Arms for a few. There was also a now defunct pub across the fields at the back of the house whose name, disappointingly, escapes me but where at 1am of an evening the local bobby would pop in for a pint and mingle with the farmer who had recently won the Welsh sheep dog trials. Different times…

Our Andy is on Centre Court shortly. At one time it was our Tim and I daresay it was someone else before him. I can’t remember that far back. Our Sue? Wimbledon mania comes to the UK for two weeks every July where people who have never picked up a racket let alone played a game become instant armchair experts.

If I watch any tennis during the rest of the year it is probably because I’ve accidentally clicked on a TV channel. I have played the game and do possess a racquet, somewhere. Whenever I played tennis I would basically always lose my service game as I’m totes crap at serving.

Our son John, on the other hand, has played since he was a little lad. He can play tennis. No point in me playing our John 🙂 

I would consider joining the Local Eastgate Tennis Club as a social member. They serve Beavertown Neck Oil, which I like, and membership there gives you the chance of getting Wimbledon tickets in the draw out of their allocation. Wimbledon is a good day out.

Not this year though. I’m probably going to join Notts CCC for next season. The West Indies are coming next July and I being a member would not only give me early access to tix but also good tix. 

I used to be a Country Member of Glamorgan CCC but they stopped that membership category and wanted two hundred and fifty quid for the privilege. Considering that in three or four years of being a member I went once, that does not represent good value for money. I didn’t mind shelling out sixty quid. Notts membership is cheaper and they get test matches. And it is only thirty miles or so away.