Category: fusion

There is a slight freshness to the morning here in vieille Aix. I am sat on our terrace watching a builder opposite do his preparations for the day on some scaffolding. I’m going to call him Jean Pierre but he will not feature further in this post so it doesn’t really matter.

V pleasant evening. I had a couple of sherberts around the corner in O’Sullivans whilst THG went for a stroll and did the sights on behalf of the two of us. WHilst she was away I discovered that Aix en Provence’s top rate curry house was just around the corner and it was to Le Maharaja we went.

The Maharaja was fairly empty at seven fifteen but the good sign was that the other occupied tables were populated with people of clearly sub-continental heritage. I had a simple lamb madras with pilau rice, a plain naan and a bottle of kingfisher.

We were early heading back to the hotel but were content with the prospect of a couple of cans of Punk IPA from Monoprix whilst sat on the terrace outside our room. Only had one of them before dozing off.

Looks like they are rerendering the facade opposite. You can tell where they have already done it and slapped on some yellow paint in keeping with the style of the old town.

Right, off to breakfast. I have a conf call at oh nine thirty.

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Breakfast wasn’t much cop btw. The receptionist took the oomph when I asked her for a cereal bowl for breakfast. All they had out were tiny ones for putting jam in. She brought three out! One for me, one for an American woman who had been standing around wondering how to go about getting a bowl and one other in case anyone else was daft enough to want one.

When I tried filling the milk jug with hot milk from the machine it wouldn’t fit under the dispenser so most of the milk went all over the place. Huh.

Cassis this morning. It is a forty nine minute drive. An hour if we go the long way around. Will be nice to get there and be able to chill for a bit. I’ve booked a parking space at the back of the hotel. Hopefully will be ok. They don’t have many spots and I’m not that confident in the hotel booking system. When I booked, sometime last winter, the hotel was closed and the response times weren’t world class. The English version of the booking system didn’t seem to have what I needed to book the parking slot.

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This is a pretty basic room but the hotel is in position A in Cassis. The balcony is just big enough for one person. There seem to be fewer people out than earlier when they all poured into the port for lunch. Probably all home sleeping off lunch before starting again this evening. Makes sense to wait for the heat of the day to subside before a night out.

9 am Wednesday. Sat in the big field in the locality of Bodeuan. It genuinely is called Big Field. Well actually Cae Mawr. Same thing. I’m surrounded by caravans. Not totes my thing. I am in a tent. I do have an electric hookup which is powering the coolbox, and now my phone. 

It will in time power the teppanyaki grill when it comes to breakfast. However I am in no hurry for this. I am slightly annoyed that I forgot to bring matches so will have to pop up to the pop-up shop to source some. Either that or rely on the generosity of nearby caravaners, some of who have already started cooking.

I only need the gas ring to boil the kettle and in reality could do without if it comes to the crunch. I have plenty of cold milk which is my breakfast tipple of choice when cooking a fry up.

I sense that three nights in the tent will be enough. It’s a three man tent but really just right for one person. The toilet facilities are pretty basic. Portaloos you find at festivals. Not surprising really. The Eisteddfod is a festival.

Yesterday afternoon I sat in the Babell Len for a while. They have poetry competitions running all week. Englynion. Pretty amazing fair play. I sat there with a big smile on my face.I don’t often get to immerse myself in the Welsh language and mine could do with a lot of improvement having lived outside Wales for most of my life. I mentioned to Nest that I struggled to follow some of it and was to some extent relieved when she said she did too.

This afternoon is the Bangor University reunion session. When I say session I really mean session. Whilst the official timing is 2pm to 3.30 the drinking carries on until close of play apaz. Suspect I won’t stay the pace. We shall see.

More anon. Breakfast to cook.

Sunday morning and the rain has stopped. Looking out into the garden it feels as if the new grass has shot up significantly over the last couple of days. I’ll pop out to inspect the onions in a bit and feel confident of similar progress. Today should be dry but back to normal British summer weather tomorrow.

Had a surprise birthday party for the Head Gardener yesterday round the corner at Eve and Steve’s. THG thought it was a coronation party but that was just the front. Was a wet old afternoon but Steve’s double sized gazebo came in very handy. A good time was had – thanks to our excellent hosts.

It being the sabbath the morning will be spent avoiding work of any kind. I don’t think I could stand being excommunicated if I was found to have broken the law. The shame of it. I sense that time spent in quiet contemplation and introspection would be appropriate. Some focus on my own spirituality. Maybs.

The blackbirds are out hunter-gathering. Plenty of worms in that lawn. Mostly males so I imagine the ladies are sitting on their nests. Were I to take the lid off the compost bin the blackbirds would have a feast. Lots of worm and insect activity turning the waste into fine compost. I prefer to leave this worms to their excellent work.

Strawberries are fruiting, or at least in full flower. The grape vine is coming into leaf. All is well.

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Sunday Sunday, feels good to me.

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Stan Getz, Girl from Ipanema. Went to Brazil decades ago. I’d visit the Amazon but otherwise feel no compulsion to return.

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Halfway through the weekend. Interesting to observe how the BBC toes the royalist line. All wine and roses in the kingdom. The succession reassured.

Alternative guide to coronation day. How to make the most out of Coronation Day. Have a good breakfast then go and play golf. Do not under any circumstances turn on the telly or the wireless set. If you end up in a pub after golf try to make it one that doesn’t have a TV (I realise this will be a hard one to get your brain around if you are from Amurica). Get home around tea time and fire up the barbie.

Up and at an early start to the day, largely occasioned by the arrival of three electricians at eight am. Avin some work done, largely to finish off the cabling to the shed. Calming classics courtesy of Spotify soothing my furrowed brow.

The brow isn’t particularly furrowed mind you although yesterday’s trip to Clearview opticians has made me ever conscious of the size of the onscreen text. I’ve zoomed in on the page this morning to artificially increase the font size.

Although I only have one call in my diary I do appear to have quite a bit of stuff to do. Once I get going I’ll be able to rattle it off quite quickly. It’s just the getting going bit that sometimes takes an effort.

Got the onions and shallots in yesterday. Still a few onion sets left but most are down. My onion crops have been moderately successful although once harvested they are quickly consumed, or pickled. Amazing how many onions you get through. An essential part of most recipes one way or another. Not desserts obvs. I made four batches of pickled onions last year. Will take me years to get through them all. After the first lot I used shop bought onions and shallots. Home pickled onions are miles better than the mass produced branded stuff, if for nothing else than I add chillies to the vinegar in mine.

Great night out at the Funky Biscuit last night. Marcia Ball gig. Marcia is 73 years old. The average age of her audience also looked about 73. In consequence they were a fairly inanimate bunch although there was plenty of clapping after each song.

The FB was an hour’s Uber away. Seems a normal kind of journey in the USA where distances are so large and people think nothing of hopping on a plane for 5 hours. In Lincoln I rarely make it as far as Nottingham because it’s an hour’s journey.

Quite fancy strolling out somewhere for brunch. Question is where. Ordinarily I have breakfast in the hotel but the Hilton deal these days in the USA is not as good as it used to be. Nowadays you get a “food and beverage allowance” of $15 a day per room. Doesn’t go far when you consider yesterday’s breakfast for two was knocking on $80 inc tip and it isn’t as if we went over the top. An expensive place to visit is the US.

As a result it doesn’t really matter where you  eat, assuming time is on your side. The question then is where? I am travelling with our US Sales Director Charles but there is no sign of him yet this morning! Might just head down as I’m now quite hungry. Didn’t have dinner last night!

Ciao.

…

Now chillin poolside. Only three others here. Could be something to do with the unusually cold weather I suppose although the skies are clear blue. An azure sea is visible in the gap between the Ritz Plaza and the Delano hotels. Ocean really not sea.

It’s one of those days for total relaxation. Would help to be a few degrees warmer but it doesn’t really matter. The pool itself is warm albeit quite shallow. It’s an infiniti pool and as such designed for wallowing as opposed to exercise.

I find that life continues to be surreal. Yesterday we had lunch in a supercool joint called Ship Wreck down a Key Largo side street. Couldn’t really call it a street. It was a road that took you to one of many inlets in the area. We actually looked for downtown Key Largo only to find there wasn’t one. Bit disappointing. Gave up after a while, when every road we turned down was a dead end. Got a couple of t shirts. 

The pool is attracting some rather large people. Four beer toting bearded  ‘good old boys’ wandered in, sat awhile and wandered out again. One of them had a baseball cap with a gun emblazoned on the front.

Aircraft pass by overhead. No sign of British Airways as yet but it is twirly man. A midday arrival here would mean a 7am takeoff from London. Our return flight is not until 21.30 on Wednesday. Figured we would get some dinner and a few sherberts before flying out and that time departure means I will hopefully get a decent kip on the plane.

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Ordered chips at a bar. Waitress asked if I meant fries.

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I daresay most of you will only devote a contemptuous millisecond to my anguish at 5am this morning when I glanced at my bedside alarm clock and noted the time. Anguish doesn’t really properly reflect today’s early morning emotions. All I did was clock the time and conduct a very short lived debate with myself regarding whether I should get up and head downstairs to do something useful or sit it out (lie it out) and assume that I would get back to sleep until the display showed a more sensible time for a Saturday morning.

The debate didn’t really involve me presenting two arguments and weighing one up against the other. I was simply thinking that it was early, it was bloody cold out and the heating wasn’t due to come on for ages yet and I was very cosy in bed. Although each incident in the debate was very short lived I know it went on, and off, for a good thirty minutes because the last time I remember seeing was five thirty.

The next time I looked the clock said six thirty and I knew that staying in bed had been the right decision. At six forty five I got up, went downstairs to make the tea and was safely back in bed by five to seven.

Now up I have breakfasted well on ham, eggs, tomaytoes and mushrooms washed down with a couple of mugs of char. Mixing my vernacular there but this is allowed. Good phrase that: to mix the vernacular. Truth is to call bacon ham is only borderline vernacular and entirely dependent on your viewpoint. Also tomaytoes is merely adding an accent to tomahtoes that suggests the author is either well travelled or watches too much junk TV. I’ll leave that to you to decide. Both could apply.

I woke up this morning and said to myself “made it through another night”. I sometimes think this. The whole pandemic sitch together with the ageing process makes you look at life differently. At 60 I am an orphan. Fortunately I have a great support structure around me. A very patient wife and 4 kids who still talk to me.

Yesterday we had a nice day out in Louth. Well not a whole day out. Louth ain’t that big but we had a nice stroll and had nice lunch in a nice caff. I also bought some books off a market stall.

Upon arriving in Louth the first thing we did after parking was have a coffee in a different caff to the nice one we ended in for the nice lunch. It too was nice. A couple plonked down at the table next to us and once settled she asked him what day it was. He responded that it was Wednesday and that she had asked him that yesterday. I pointed out that yesterday it was Tuesday not Wednesday. 

This caused general mirth in the cafe – it was a small cafe. There also followed a debate about how nobody could ever remember what it was, including the waitress who had apparently turned up for work the previous day thinking it was a Wednesday.

Today, as the astute amongst you will have gleaned, is a Thursday. There was evidence of an early frost as I walked to the shed although it felt almost springlike. Working day today! No rush though. I do feel that a fourth cup of tea might be appropriate but I’d have to go back to the house to source and it won’t do me any harm to delay a little.

The news is I have deferred my jury service to August. It suddenly clashed with a dinner I want to go to in London. The process was simple enough although I had to listen to 3 ½ minute of messages and options beforeI made it through to a person. I remember this from the last time I called as this time like then the voicemail message we one person but it was someone different telling me that my phone call would be recorded. Why couldn’t the same bloke have recorded both bits.

When I eventually got through the person didn’t want to waste time chatting. She had a job to do. She didn’t say that in so many words but you could tell 🙂 I could choose anytime in the next twelve months for the deferral so I went for a quiet time when I knew we wouldn’t be away. I say quiet time but actually August is busy for those of us in the campervan rental game but because of that I knew we would defo be in Lincoln.

Funny how people are different innit. A person who didn’t want to waste time chatting is fine to answer the phone for someone trying to defer jury service but would be no use working in a shop where staff might reasonably be expected to be friendly and chatty. Oh go on then yes I will buy that jumper. Or paper shredder.

My paper shredder is out on a van for delivery and arrives sometime today. Fwiw. Bought online not in a shop so no chatty sales assistant. It’s the solution to piles of papers building up in carrier bags in da shed. A fun time to be had. I bought one with a largeish capacity so that I didn’t have to keep emptying it. It will still sit compactly in the corner next to my desk though. Shred that sheet!

Long old haul back to Lincoln from Manchester really. Quite a full train, not helped I guess by the cancellation of the earlier one. What’s going on on the train network! Some people (yooves) stood up although there are some empty seats. Maybe they are getting off at Stockport which is only a couple of minutes out of Manchester Piccadilly. My bag is on the seat next to me. I will move it if required but the guard said that there is plenty of room in the front three coaches so if people haven’t got the gumption to follow his advice that’s their lookout.

Wearing my Bose phones and am in the zone. Band on the Run. We are in the foothills of the Pennines if such they are. Connectivity is pants. Sheep don’t use the internet. I guess. Weak winter sun shining onto the hills in patches. Horse running along the edge of a field. Running to see the train perhaps. Life in a field must be a bit tedious.

Might drive next time.

We have entered a tunnel. There must be a mountain overhead. A hill anyway. Emerging into the sunlight we are in a valley. Quite picturesque. I wouldn’t fancy climbing the hills right now. It will be dark soon and I have a beer in my hand.

You sense the road to Sheffield takes a different route to the train. The high road.

Passed a small farmhouse on the steep side of the valley. I noticed it after I spotted the stone barn. Not an easy living I imagine.

…

Now on the delayed 16.38 out of Sheffield calling at all stops to Lincoln Central. Takes 74 mins or so normally. The driver arrived with two minutes to spare but the cheery guard showed up a few minutes late. We were all kept champing at the bit on the platform.

Called two taxi firms in Lincoln to pick me up from the stayshun. Earliest availability was 7.30pm whereas I get in at 6! Hmm. Might have to stick my thumb out.

Dear Santa,

I realise that Christmas is still a way off but I thought it worth getting a letter across to you early this year in case you are having logistics problems in the warehouse. Elven driver shortages and so on.

My request this year is in my mind fairly simple but I have no idea how much back office work it might involve at your end. It isn’t quite as simple as wanting a few pairs of socks which might actually be affected by the global container shortage. The concept however is easy enough to get your brain around.

All I want for Christmas is world peace, climate change reversal and to know in advance which horse is going to win next year’s Grand National. This is a winning combination. World peace would mean the freedom to travel anywhere without having to worry about local wars, insurrections, piracy (presumably) and border restrictions. Climate change reversal would mean we could enjoy the wonders of our planet wherever we ended up going and winning the Grand National would mean we could do it all in comfort and style. Like I said, simples.

The camel train to Iraq might prove to be a little uncomfortable. We would have to make sure there were plenty of cushions and carpets to go around. The idea of diving amongst the resuscitated coral reefs in the South Seas is very appealing. Easily reachable from the jetty near the villa in the gardens of the hotel, natch.

I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Being a man of the people my request for presents is, except for the Grand National bit, for us all so feel free to come up with your own ways of enjoying them. Iraq would face a shortage of camels if everyone wanted to do the same thing. 

As far as the Grand National is concerned if we all bet on the same horse the odds would disappear so I’ll keep that present to myself thank you very much. After all it isn’t unreasonable that everyone gets something personal that is just for them.

Anyway whatever you want for Christmas the big day will come quickly enough so I’d advise getting that letter sent. Just be sensible in what you ask for. If you ask for too much you might end up not getting anything. And remember there is a shortage of truck drivers, food, rubbish toys that looked great on the telly but will only get played with once, CO2, chefs, carers, bar staff, fruit pickers, oh and common sense.

Tref (I’ve been good all year) Davies.

xxx

PS Hope you don’t mind that kiss kiss kiss ending. Not trying to send any signals here. Just rolled off the keyboard.

PPS Can you bung some socks in as well please.

Upon my soul

When did you last see your father?

Wallop is a word with multiple meanings

In the chilly hours and minutes of uncertainty.

We certainly live in uncertain times but has it not ever been thus? 

Some people pray before hitting the hay. Pray before hay!  In my mind we should perhaps give thanks whenever we wake up as opposed to before we go to sleep although I guess there is no particular rule on what people pray for at any time of day. It’s either thanks for making it through the day or thanks for making it through the night.

The exception to this is if you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep in which the phrase “thank you very much” may not be considered a genuine expression of gratitude.

I’ve never prayed for anything. It’s a personal thang. If praying is your thang then that’s fine. I do religiously listen to the wireless in bed, both at night and in the morning. Actually I don’t really listen to it. At night it’s there for soporific effect. In the morning it’s more about habit than listening.

Have you ever considered how the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle has affected your life? If you are uncertain as to the answer that is probably part of it.

Weird dream about anne at LHR

A fair bit of my grey cell usage recently has been devoted to travel arrangements for next year’s East Coast and Caribbean (maan) trip. The main issue is how to use the BA companion voucher to best effect. The ideal solution would be a direct flight to Tobago from LHR T5 with a first class cabin. This would give us max value for the Avios, a night before in the Sofitel plus use of the Concorde lounge before the flight.

Unfortunately not only do BA now not do a direct flight (did they ever?) as it goes via Antigua but also they don’t operate a First Class cabin. This is a covid casualty I’m sure. The same is true for Trinidad (via Saint Lucia) which is a short 20 mins hop from Tobago and therefore an acceptable alternative. Moreover both flights originate from Gatwick which is very much a poor cousin without the quality of overnight accommodation for the night before.

A BA 4 cabin flight to Barbados out of LHR is an alternative as could be Miami although the latter is less desirable as we are routing through there to the Big Apple and thence Boston on the way home. The other issue is the dearth of reward flight availability. This is likely because there will be a lot of folk like me working from home sat on a load of Avios and desperate to book a trip somewhere.

My strategy is to have an order of flight option preference and begin the process of midnight vigils nearer the time the bookings need to be done which is 355 days before the date of travel. The reward flights are there. They just get snapped up quickly. The late bird gets the reward flight, as the saying goes (yes it does). Truly first world problems.

Now all this is just the preamble to the dream I had last night. I rarely remember dreams but this one was persistent so I did. Anne and I were for some reason at the airport with the kids off to I know not where. Could have been Tobago I guess. The point was we got separated early on and in looking for her I kept finding myself on some obscure high street somewhere having to go back and find the somewhat obscure entrance to the terminal. I did at some point find myself at the door of the 1st class check in and weirdly they handed me a dressing gown on a coat hanger even before check in telling me I’d have to wait. There was no point in staying there without Anne so I went back out to look for her. At some stage I decided to call her but found that I had her phone. Der! The dream ended without conclusion other than when I looked at the departures board to check the gate number (she might have gone to the gate) I saw that the flight was departing two hours earlier than I had thought which could well be a problem. 

No idea.

Caveman hair

It may have been noticed that I have been growing a moustache and beard. Other than a previous attempt during the first lockdown I have never had facial hair. It’s a bit of an art experiment. I quite like the image. Long hair with hippylike stuff on the face. Totally suitable for someone who runs a vintage vw campervan rental business and a festival. The only thing missing is a garland of flowers. I have all the necessary shirts and jackets.

Now facial hair does bring with it practical considerations. First or all some schools of thought consider that you need to occasionally trim it and keep it tidy. This I have never had to do and am unskilled in the art. On this basis it hasn’t been done. The alternative is to just not bother trimming it. However it starts to have an impact when, for example, taking a drink of water. I find that the moustache gets in the way of things entering my mouth. It is not yet long enough to train to the sides.

It made me think about cavemen. They presumably didn’t cut their hair? Did they tie it back in a bun or ponytail? Quite fetching I’d imagine and also practical. What about the moustache though?

Everything is blurred without my glasses

When I got up this morning I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. I saw a jumbled blurr of shapes. I knew what every shape was but it lacked definition. Think of going through life like this. I was around 10 years old when I got my first pair of specs. Brown plastic HNS jobs. They were a revelation. When I walked out of the shop I saw things I never knew existed. Like signs above the shops! I remember the day as clearly as my vision was improved.

Before the glasses were invented people used to have to live without. Maybe they died young, killed off by the ferocious wild animal they didn’t spot hiding behind the bush or being run over by a horse and cart when crossing the road. 

It’s a good job old Salvino D’Armate and Allesandro della Spina rocked up. What a team. Inventor Sal came up with the idea for specs and monk Al spread the word. Probably helped a lot with bible reading back in the day. Those books were far too heavy to lift closer to your face so that you could read them even though the font was a bit bigger than today’s standard. Latin dingbats script is really difficult to read at the best of times.

Nowadays had the glasses have only recently been invented they would be marketed heavily in embedded Google widgets placed strategically in the wide margins of said Bibles (or Koran etc depending on your brand preference). “Consign Latin dingbats script into history. Free up your inner Arial 10”.

This post was typed unseen using google dictation without wearing eye glasses.

Do you really want to know the direction of your life?

I was listening to the Archbishop of Wales this morning, as one does. He mentioned that before entering the clergy he was a solicitor with his life notionally mapped out in front of him. He made the break. 

It’s probably a lot easier to do this if you have a calling such as the church. I suspect it isn’t quite the same when society pressurises you in a certain direction. Career, progression, ladder, money, more money, mortgage. Notionally it is about long term security.

You can’t really criticise this. You can dislike it. In fact for a lot of people it isn’t about any of the above. It’s about keeping a roof over their head, feeding the kids and having enough money for a TV with sky and netflix.

Life is one big surf party. Waves come along. You have to be able to catch them. Catch the excitement. The thrill of the game. Adrenaline. Difficult I know but you got to do it.

Leisurely sunday brunch

Added some small banana pancakes with maple syrup to breakfast this morning. It’s a winning combo. Chopped chillies with my fried egg, smoked bacon and sausage on the side.