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.