We're creeping into Winter and I for one aint in any hurry. It's been glorious this week, a beautiful end to Autumn, but the doom merchants are forecasting a major drop in temperatures for next. If all goes to plan I'm off to Derbyshire next Friday for a week and a spell living in a  house! It's part of my "Don't spend the whole Winter on the Boat Regime" and I'm looking forward to it. I love the Peak District  anyway and will receive the odd visitor during my stay. Roy's coming for a few days and they don't come any odder than that.

After Derbyshire I'm off to Lancashire and a visit to Tom and sister, Moira; a tad earlier this year but that will, as far as I'm concerned open the Festive Season officially....then it's back for the Boaters' Christmas Bash on 8th Dec preceded by a matinee performance of The Importance of Being Earnest by Berkhamsted Youth Orchestra with Pam's grandson, Joseph playing  Dr Chasuble. Then I'm off to Whitstable for a week just before Christmas. That'll be the week I write my cards so if you've changed your address in the last 12 months best let me know.....assuming you want a card that is.

The Boaters' Party this year will be aiming to raise money for the Alzheimer's Society through its raffle and any profit on the night and we will also have a collection for DENS  (Dacorum Emergency Night Shelter) You can donate if you're coming on the 8th or there will be a Wheelybin by the Mooring's Gate where goods can be left. It all ends on 11th Dec cos I want to drop it all off at DENS on the 12th. The list of what is needed can be found on this link. I will, of course, collect if the above options aren't available to you.

https://www.dens.org.uk/files/Christmas%20List%202018.pdf

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Some local news-avid reader will recall that a month or so back I wrote

The Grave of the Unknown Caller

 " While waiting for a bus at Cow Roast the other day I thought I'd have a look in the phone box. It used to be a proper red job; the sort you could shelter in if needs be albeit with the slight hint of uric acid pervading the nostrils but warm and mostly dry. Then it was replaced with this thing with all the style and character of a plastic beer crate. Then because nobody used it they took the phone out, No vandalism; just nobody needed it with the advent of mobile phones which are now so essential to the survival of life on earth. I peeped in and there was a notice to the effect that if anyone had any objections to its removal they had 42 days to do so or it would be removed. Well either someone did object (though I doubt it) or they are very slow movers because the notice is dated April 2016 . Let's have the red one back and pop a defibrillator in it. That's what I say."

Anyway last week as I strolled down Wharf Lane I noticed a gap-like a missing tooth-the box was gone. Future generations will be unaware that what now resembles " the Grave of the Unknown Caller" once meant that for tuppence there could be a call to Auntie from a mid-trip boater or to summon a doctor for a Cowroastian resident or to plight the troth of a lovesick farmer's daughter to her beau in Bow. All gone as though none of it ever happened. Which it probably didn't. Except the tuppence was a fact. Years ago when it was a proper red box I referred to it as "The Office" In those days, before mobile phones, that was my contact with the outside world and it also served as a handy shelter when waiting for a bus in either direction.  I was fit enough on sighting a bus to leg it to the appropriate stop. Nowadays I'd miss the bus and catch the next one....or get a cab....or drive.

I can't say the box is  necessary now as we all are mobbied up but sadly it is indicative of the demise of the Cow Roast Hamlet. No pub, no phone box, fewer buses, ageing populace. Place just looks like a car park. 

I reprint an old picture from a few years back. The picture could obviously benefit from the addition of hundreds of BMWs on one side and  vans on the other but you can't halt "progress".  Sad.

Well the little green triangle went not long after Pontius was a First Officer and the A4251 is a very busy road. But just in case anyone thought things couldn't be made any uglier along came the then owners, Punch Taverns, who barricaded the windows and put the Berlin Wall round the pub. This week Heineken (who bought the pub from Punch) decided that wasn't ugly enough and stuck another row of concrete in front.

With this being the 100th Anniversary of the end of the First World War I'd have thought a trench and some barbed wire would have been more in keeping.

What right do these companies have to inflict such eyesores on the community? The council, Parish, Borough or County don't give a toss and poor old Cow Roast looks as attractive as a squat in Sarajevo.

Heineken (through their pubco Star pubs) are looking for a tenant but no bugger in his right mind is going into this place till somebody spends some money on it and perhaps a little TLC. Given their actions so far it aint gonna happen. 

But if you fancy a punt............

 https://www.starpubs.co.uk/pubs/cow-roast-inn-wiggington

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A trip just for the day to Faversham-wonderful journeys both ways-isn't the M25 wonderful when it works- and we took Mathilda out for fun and frolics. One of my favourite photos of '18. 

And this is one of my least favourite-Roy looking amazingly like David Starkey wasting good Glenfiddich (a present from Ady) by drinking it himself rather than giving it to me.

SOD's Law

At Chelmsford Races last Monday your humble and impoverished servant backed a horse called Florencio (in honour of Florence in Faversham) at 16 to  1.

All eight runners in the 7f handicap, which was declared void, completed safely after the lights went out two furlongs from the finish. 

A stewards' inquiry into the contest concluded judge David Hicks had insufficient light to call the result of the race.

But 'winning' trainer Jamie Osborne insisted Florencio, owned by the globetrotting Melbourne 10, which includes the trainer, should have taken the race after he filmed the five-year-old finishing first past the post under Nicola Currie.

"I am annoyed," said the Lambourn trainer. "It was blatantly obvious to me and the racegoers watching just who had finished first, second, third and fourth.

"They probably could have limited the damage of this by allowing the result to stand but the stewards had no interest in seeing my film, and apparently the rule is that if the judge can't determine the first four home, then the race has to be void."
I got my stake money back but that's the first time I've had the bloody lights go out on a race. Cost me 64 quid! I've subsequently learnt that Florencio's owners got the prize money so as usual it's the poor old punter that gets diddled.

https://www.racingpost.com/news/chelmsford-abandoned-after-power-cut-plunges-track-into-darkness-mid-race/353629

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I'm grateful to friend Janice for this picture taken on Remembrance Sunday at St Peter's in Berkhamsted. Good to see the flag fly and I hope to see it again along with many others on 23rd April. 2019 which as everyone will know is St George's Day. Our St George's Do on the moorings will be on Sat 27th but this year I'm hoping to get enough people interested in a Lunch on the 23rd at The George and Dragon in Northchurch. I haven't asked the Landlord yet and I've no ideas about cost and stuff but that's the plan. Let me know if you fancy it.  
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I have deliberately avoided the Bxxxxt word as I am sure that, like me , you are bored witless  with the whole shambles but I couldn't avoid a grin to myself on hearing that Gove 👀 had expressed his loyalty to Theresa May-now she really does need to worry after his "loyalty" to the nauseous Doris Johnson whom he shafted two days later.

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16 and with hair.

To Cliveden for a gorgeous Sunday afternoon with the Autumn at its best. We love Cliveden there's so much to see and do there but this was the first time since I was sixteen that I've stood on this beautiful balcony. That was shortly after the Profumo scandal about which I was able to bore Pam and Joseph over dinner that night. For those of you too young to know what the scandal was about or too old to remember  I have added a summary at the end. Suffice to say it was a time when MPs and Ministers who got caught either trouserless or with fingers in the till resigned. What a novel idea.

Pam in the Water gardens

One hell of a birdbath

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I know many of you are  interested in my overseas viewers so here's the latest. I'm surprised to note that Ukraine tops the list above the UK  today though pleased to see my chums in the Philippines, Singapore and Russia are still on board. As always I ask myself why should anyone in the Ukraine be interested in my ramblings? It must be very boring there.

Ukraine	24
United Kingdom	11
Philippines	9
United States	9
Singapore	8
Poland	5
Australia	3
Indonesia	3
Russia	3
Unknown Region	1

All for now-take care.
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The Cliveden Affair
The 3rd Viscount Astor, William (known to everyone as Bill) loved to entertain at Cliveden. Over the weekend of the 8 and 9 July 1961 he and his wife Bronwen hosted a small house party. His guests included the Secretary of State for War, John Profumo and his wife.

That same weekend, Cliveden's resident osteopath, Stephen Ward was also hosting house party at his home, Spring Cottage down on the river banks within the estate. Ward’s guests included society showgirl Christine Keeler and Yevgeny Ivanov, a Soviet naval attaché. 

As it was a warm evening, Ward decided to take his friends up to the house for dip in the swimming pool where they were discovered by Bill Astor and his guests. This chance meeting between Keeler and Profumo and the three-month affair that followed was to end Profumo’s career and bring down the Macmillan Conservative government. 

In 1963, revelations about Stephen Ward and Christine Keeler’s private lives lead to the press hounding Christine. She decided to tell her story in the Sunday Pictorial including the events at Cliveden in 1961. 

It emerged that as well as an affair with Profumo, Keeler had a very brief relationship with Ivanov too. This connection was seen as a serious security risk and Profumo was forced to make a statement in the House of Commons. He denied there was any impropriety in his relationship with Keeler and when his lie was exposed he was forced to resign.

Prime Minister Harold Macmillan did not recover from the crisis that engulfed the government, resigning seven months later and the Conservatives lost the general election the following year.

However, more than careers were lost as a result of the affair; Stephen Ward was put on trial and took his own life and Bill Astor’s health declined from stress and he died in 1966. Cliveden had been given to the National Trust 25 years earlier and following Bill Astor’s death the family decided they no longer wished to live here.

Life has returned to "normal" after the trip on Moorhen and apart from a very pleasant three day jaunt to Devon to visit friend, Peter, all is quiet on the home front.

The country-indeed the whole world-seems to be going madder by the minute but here at Cow Roast the transition that is Autumn is passing with Nature's usual efficiency and soon it will be Winter. The shops and pubs are pushing Christmas already; a commercial activity which seems even more obscene than usual given that we've just  had Halloween and await Guy Fawkes, Diwali and the Remembrance Sunday that will mark 100 years since the end the First World War. 

The people that died in both wars would scratch their heads if they saw the state we are in now with nutters in charge of most of the world, greed the foremost motivation and an inability at the highest level to deal with the most pressing problems. We are the most fortunate generation ever to occupy the planet but what a balls we're making of it. 

When you go home, tell them of us and say

For their tomorrow, we gave our today.

Talking of politicians there is one who has been much in my mind of late, Clement Attlee. The reason is that a lady posted a note on FaceBook (Stanmore Middx Past and Present) saying that she had been born in a nursing home called Heywood which had been Attlee's home until just after the war. In particular the lady, let's call her Liz, was looking for a photo of her birthplace. It seemed that none existed and the house was demolished back in the 80s (I think) and a block of flats (Heywood Court) was built in its place.

This got me interested because I'd had some previous interest with both the house and the flats because of my job .

In my early career I was involved in handling Appeals against planning and enforcement notices at Harrow Council and one of the first concerned Heywood which at the time (back in the late 60s iirc) was contravening some planning condition or other and had appealed against an Enforcement notice. I can't remember the details or the result but it was the first time I became aware that Attlee had been a former resident.

Some many years later I was involved in organising the ceremony for unveiling a plaque in memory of C A (as was Tracey a follower of these ramblings assuming my moaning  about dogs last time hasn't put her off). I posted a picture on Facebook of Tony Benn and Attlee's granddaughter-then the Mayor of Beaconsfield) doing the unveiling. I then came across the following picture on ebay in America and bought it. (the picture not America) I sold it it to Liz  and all is happiness.

The note (below) on the back of the picture says:

Home of Britain's new Prime Minister England..this modest, ivy-covered, three-story (sic) brick house is the home of Clement Attlee, Britain's new Prime Minister. The home is located on the outskirts of London at Stanmore. Mrs Attlee is at the wheel of the family car in fore-ground. Photo by Bert Brandt, ACME Staff Cameraman (8/9/45)

Shortly after Tony Benn's death I wrote the following.

The Harrow Heritage Committee decided that a plaque should be put up on the flats to commemmorate the former Prime Minister and Tony Benn with Attlee's Grand daughter (then Liberal Mayor of Beaconsfield) were invited to unveil the plaque. As the bloke that organised such things I rang the contact number to agree fine details such as transport and catering. Normally the phone is answered by a secretary or similar and they deal with the oiks. When the phone was answered I asked to speak to Mr Benn's secretary and the great man said "You've got him" He wanted no special arrangements other than a big pot of tea. He arrived spot on time at Heywood, made a speech of 20 minutes exactly, without notes but with many anecdotes of his personal dealings with Attlee. He carried out the unveiling, thanked me very much for the tea and off he went. Believe me in 35 years of dealing with politicians and others from the great and good he was the most down to earth, sincere,and entertaining one I met.

Bert Brandt, the photographer, is worth a Google having taken photos throughout the war, especially following the D Day Landings. He was also in India for the period following the assassination of Gandhi. Here's a taste of his work plus one of the man himself with an orangutan!

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I made passing reference above to a short break in Devon which proved to be the last few sunny days of the Autumn.

Here below Peter stands outside the excellent Puffing Billy before forcing a pint on me. He was, as always a wonderful host, ensuring that the strict dietary rules necessary for the life of a mendicant friar were maintained totally ignored.

Not a picture of Mr Brandt's quality

Below Adrian and Peter enjoy a Latte in the Tally Ho, Peter's local. They were both concerned that the drinking of posh coffee whilst on licenced premises might reflect badly on their sexuality but I'm sure they have nothing much to worry about. Well you make up your own minds.

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To more spiritual matters. Ying and Yang, a concept in which I fervently believe, would say that the two pictures  sum up life. One, a perfect soft boiled pair of eggs ready for soldiering, the other, two bullets from pullets that no toasty finger would ever penetrate.

My view is slightly different. Given that all eggs had the same boiling time (3 mins since you ask) to me these represent starts to the day that will govern how that day will evolve.

A SINKING SHIP I FEAR

The hard eggs were followed by a day that, from what I recall, was totally forgettable. The weather was crap. The diesel fired boiler running the central heating on the boat decided to go out. (Not down the pub or off hiking, just out) and then I had a gammon to cook. Cooking time 90 minutes. No problem pop it in the oven and stay on board till it was cooked. Sat there arguing with the diesel boiler and thinking of things I could do elsewhere. After about an hour I went to check on the gammon. Oven out. Gas out. So change gas, relight oven and off we go again. Time to turn on the radio to see how the mighty Fulham are doing. Oh Gawd.  Fulham 1 Arsenal 5. Pam was knackered so dinner was cancelled.

The perfect soft eggs were followed by a sunny Autumn day, a meaningful  win on the horses and dinner out with Caz and Mathilda in grand form. So what's my point? Start the day with grilled mackerel. Can't go wrong.

One bit of goodish news. Apparently because both my mother and her parents were born on the island of Ireland I am eligible for an Irish passport which means I still enjoy the benefits of EU membership. Now offhand, apart from saving a few quid on the visa and getting through the controls at Luton airport a bit quicker I'm not sure what else it brings. However as those of you that have known me a few years will be aware I become increasingly frustrated at the inability, indolence and apathy of the English in celebrating the Feast of St George. I always make a fuss and we always have a St George's Day bash (27th April next year if anyone wants to join us on the mooring)but I weep as I drive round town (most towns) and there isn't a flag flying let alone any jollification. My local pub (now all the others are shut!) celebrates St Davids, and St Patrick's and Independence day and the Chinese New Year but nothing on the 23rd April. ....and the pub is called the George and Dragon. So at least when (and if) I get my Irish passport  I'll find plenty of proud fellow countryman to celebrate our patronal feast on 17th March

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The first fire of the Winter

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An exciting development. Pam discovered a place near Chesham that presses any apples you take them, bottle and label the resultant juice and you collect the result at £1.70 a bottle. We have a tree on the mooring that just sheds its fruit every year and apart from the odd apple crumble the produce is wasted. So the last apples on the tree were picked, windfalls collected and off to press we went. The result was 16 bottles of Cow Roast Lock Apple juice which I sell/am selling/sold at £2.50 a go. Much too cheap given its rarity but the old Acorns and oaks adage appl(i)es. The Appyjuice as I call it is superb and next year, if God spares, that tree will be fully used and we will be able to sell the elixir of life and bring peace and wellbeing to the world.

Pressing engagement. I discuss the plans for next year's crop of Cow Roast Appyjuice or CRappyjuice as my Marketing Manager has suggested.

Only £2.50 a bottle to gain the secret to a longer life, promote hair growth and cure all,as yet unknown, diseases
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Whilst typing this nonsense I am also

 multi-tasking' producing a large Cottage Pie 

and creating my own 

version of carrot and coriander soup-all 

whilst adding anti-freeze 

to the boat engine.

 If I get mixed up chances are this will be

 my last blog............ 


but at least I won't freeze up!

So there you have it, from Attlee to Apples , 

Ying and Yang and an Orangutan. From Fulham to Freeze ups.

All human life is here.


 Have a good weekend.