Hello
Bit of a hotchpotch coming up.
My last posting was on the eve of the Referendum and we all know what happened there -plus we were awaiting our first knock out game in the Euros against Iceland.
I don't see any point in banging on about either, other than I did wonder what the odds were on losing a Prime Minister, the Leader of the Opposition and the England Manager in the same week. Well two out of three wasn't bad and Mr Corbyn still looks iffy.
But I can't imagine what the odds would have been on B Johnson as Foreign Secretary? Putin must be terrified. Boris J has only been in the job 48 hours and we've had tragedy in Nice and an attempted coup in Turkey. (and we all know turkeys gobble- they don't coo}
As to Mr Hammond at the Treasury when people stop fantasising about all the gash cash coming back from Europe someone might ask Hammond about the amount of money he committed to the dreadful waste that is HS2 when at the Dept of the Environment. That would be better spent on the NHS now the Brexit dosh has been shown to be about ten bob.
Interesting times
Enough.
As I say a hotchpotch.
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| one iffy carrot |
On 20th August the judging will take place for the Berkhamsted Hertage Veg Challenge and I'm struggling to produce anything meaningful-nothing new there.
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| a candidate for the rude veg award-Rodin's Carrot Lovers |
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| some very slow chillis |
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| some early late earlies |
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| It's an old man's complaint |
Talking of CaRT I was invited to join a Focus Group this week to discuss.....ah, I just remembered I was told not to tell anybody so if I tell you I'll have to have you killed. Probably by contractors from Coventry. They could do it while they're mending the pipe. Anyway it was all very interesting and lasted 2 hours and I got 45 quid so I'd do a couple a week if I could.
One of the things we covered was the "magic" of being on or by the water and it was good to remind myself of how fortunate I've been over the years enjoying boating in general and the wildlife in particular. How much longer? Who knows but I feel privileged when cleaning my tooth of a morning to see ducks, coots and swans; though how they all got in my cabin I don't know.....
One of two minor inconveniences of living on the cut is the requirement for propane gas which always runs out at the most inconvenient time. I have two big bottles which needed replacing but the wonderful coal boat operated by Jules and Richard didn't have any so I had to use a small bottle I keep for such emergencies pending their return a few days later with big bottles.
Well I misjudged that one. When I woke that morning three things quickly registered. One, I had the worst cough/cold/consumption ever inflicted on man ( women are so lucky to avoid this nightmare) . Two, I was desperate for a cup of tea. Three, the emergency spare f****ing# gas had run out. Now I don't function too well without tea. I don't know if it's a result addiction thereto but it's absence first thing renders me incapable of getting the right (or left) leg in the right hole in my boxers, then similarly my trousers so I finished up hopping, staggering in a downward trajectory towards the front of the boat stopping my fall by placing/banging my head against the front doors which the opend under my weight dumping me unceremoniously in the front well, naked (me, not the well) bar a shirt and one leg in my drawers and looking like the last turkey in the window at Christmas; a turkey may I remind you with a cold, cough and consumption that would render a lesser mortal in need of the Last Rites....and no tea.
(#lipp)
Then I had a bright idea. Once I had finished swearing, which took a while, I re-entered the boat and eventually managed to dress myself and shuffle off to the shed where I have a camping gaz stove which I lit on the front deck. Soon had the kettle on the boil and a bacon butty coming up behind.
I noticed the lady moored opposite who had previously been enjoying an early morning fag had gone back inside her boat and drawn the curtains (closed). Perhaps it was the language, perhaps she was a Vegan anti-buttyist or possibly she didn't like the look of my giblets. I'll never know as she didn't emerge until night time gave her the cover of darkness.
This being a Wednesday and Jule's Fuels not due with a replacement for the big gas till Friday I took myself off to replace the small one to get me through the next 48.
The day did not improve. Two and a half hours later I had a new bottle. Being a Wednesday the chandlery at Cowroast marina was closed. The two garages that sell Calor had run out. The two garden centres only stock the green ones. As does B and sodding Q. The camping shop don't sell that particular size but recommended the boatyard at Winkwell
which is where I should have gone first. Two and a half hours. With the worst cold yet seen on the planet.
On the way back I called in on Pam who told me I shouldn't have gone driving round the countryside but should have rested and anyway why didn't I use my electric kettle? A question I wish I'd asked myself before attempting to entrouser......
and now the loo needs emptying which is the other minor inconvenience mentioned above. Not a job for a man who has a cross between TB, The Black Death and British Legionnaire's disease.
Any volunteers?
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I came across this picture of the Pontcysillte Aqueduct. Obviously taken from the air-probably a drone-I think it's a lovely shot
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Benington's known history goes back to Saxon times when it was a fortified site used by the kings of Mercia.
After the Norman conquest William the first gave the manor to Peter de Valoinges. The remains of a Norman Motte and Bailey fortification are still clearly visible. In the centre are the ruins of a Norman Donjon ( tower ) made of flint. The north wall shows some very well preserved flintwork laid in a herringbone pattern. This is the only vernacular Norman stonework left in Hertfordshire.
The red brick manor house was built after a fire in about 1700. By 1832 George Proctor was in residence. He built the magnificent flint gatehouse including the curtain wall and summer house. It is generally believed that this romantic folly is the work of James Pulham who was famous for work using his "Pulamite Stone". This secret mixture was a sort of cement that could be moulded to replicate stonework.
He built the Edwardian extension on the west side of the house. This included the unusual Verandah which would seem to be a consequence of his work in India as an engineer.When Sarah Bott arrived in 1970 the garden was somewhat dilapidated.
With the help of Ian Billot and then Richard Webb she spent the next 25 years restoring it to it current state. Great care has been taken to preserve its Edwardian character and the informal way it enhances its historic surroundings.The village is a real treat with two pubs-we only went in one, The Bell;very good, very friendly-must return without car-with many beautiful cottages and gardens open to the public.
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| Whilst we were there the Police raided the lily pads and I heard they took away a lot of frog's porn. |
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Returning to the matter of the Euro Football my friend Ian who runs a Fantasy Football League, the profits of which go to Kidney Research, also runs a Tipster's Tournament for the Euros. I had a bash and somehow, more by luck than judgement won it beating 44 others. I was very pleased as there are some pretty smart types in the competition. It did cause some dilemmas in that I had Portugal as one of the finalists but desperately wanted Wales to beat them and similarly in the Final I wanted France to win. The French are having a worse year than the UK (though ours is self inflicted) and need our prayers. What they certainly didn't need was England's finest going over and misbehaving when there were so many other calls on police resources, Whilst I was disappointed in England's defeat by Iceland I bet there was much rejoicing down at the Gendarmerie.
Any way Ian raised ££342 via the competition entry fees and additional donations; the total now raised over the years is £15,892.62. As I mentioned above the money goes to Kidney Research. If you'd like to have a crack at the Fantasy League let me know and I'll tell Ian. Don't expect to beat me though! Hee hee.
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It was Ian that reminded me of the British Legion wish that anyone who had lost a relative in WW1 should light a candle on the anniversary of the commencement of the Battle of the Somme.
Here's mine
My father's brother was killed aged 18 having, as I've been told, lied about his age to join up.
I've given him a lot of thought recently; mainly because he was a near relative that died in 1915 -32 years before I was born- and I am coming up 70. 52 years more than he was allotted. Tragic waste. I've checked his regiment's records. His and other units were moved to near St Albans not far from me before being sent to France, landing at Le Havre.
The accounts I've read suggest we have learnt little about equipping our army in that as was the case with Iraq they had to make do with out of date gear; half of the men were issued with guns that had last seen action in the Boer War! The inability of politicians and top brass to do other than screw up from the Somme to Basra is pitiful.
The Battle of Festubert was regarded as a victory for the British.
The British lost 16,648 casualties from 15/16–25 May. 10 days-1600 a day.
I just went back and checked that figure-and the gain for the British? 1.9 miles. Gain per casualty= 7.2 inches.
Some victory.
Rest in Peace Uncle.
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My passport needed renewing. I did it online which was fairly easy and very quick. All done in a week.
The hard part was providing a photo
They rejected this one as they allege there is the hint of a smile and a shadow. I can't help it if I have a joyful demeanour and I think the "shadow" is in fact my luxuriant hair.
Someone else said it was because you can't see both ears but I think that's nonsense.
Even under the new fascism that is post Brexit I would think an Immigration Officer would wait many years before refusing entry to someone because they were one ear short of a passport pictureI put this one up as well-which is the one on my bus pass-apart from looking like someone whose been caught trouserless exposing himself on the Grand Union canal-it shows the same shadowy hair and no ears.
Anyway it too was rejected. In the end Pam took one which was accepted but I can't post it on here in case some earless Romanian Plumber wishing to seek work in Coventry copies it to enter the UK. Or Little Britain as it will soon be known
(Now now Michael. you said at the beginning you wouldn't go banging on about our return to the Muddle Ages)
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To finish, a nice old picture of the Cowroast Inn taken back in the days when men were men and sheep were nervous. I think I'm second from the right. It's taken from outside the BMW garage.....although of course it wasn't there then. The Germans hadn't even formulated plans for the invasion of Poland when this was taken- let alone Cowroast.
The Cowroast Inn continues to improve, the food is v good value though restricted serving time applies. The camping project has started well and I think George is on a winner We just need to get rid of dogs, children, juke box, pool table and half the current customers including me and it would be perfect.
Until the next time and assuming I survive this bloomin cold. Had I mentioned that?..................hasta la vista
