where art collides philosoperontap

Today is Twelfth Night. You heard it first here. Well actually tonight must be Twelfth Night otherwise they would call it Twelfth Day. Also this is probably not the first time you heard the term so my statement is not totes accurate. Consider this as your first reminder.

This did make me wonder why ‘twelve’ days of Christmas. Googling comes up with results about the Christmas carol. Unimaginative, Google. However it is easy enough to see through the lyrical mist to find sources that discuss the historical significance of the song and on this occasion it was Reader’s Digest that came up with the goods. I didn’t even know that Readers Digest was still a thing. I suppose it is a trustworthy brand and can be taken as read.

Anyway RD tells us that “Christians believe that the 12 days of Christmas mark the amount of time it took after the birth of Jesus for the magi, or wise men, to travel to Bethlehem for the Epiphany when they recognized him as the son of God. The specific time period was likely part of the early church’s effort to adapt pre-Christian celebrations that helped the ancient Europeans get through the long winter nights.”

There ya go. I wonder about the logistics of their trip. How far could you travel in twelve days? Presumably there weren’t twelve days of elapsed journey time. There must have been some up front planning. Figuring out where to stay en route, where to refuel the camels etc etc. The modern day equivalent would be planning a trip from Abu Dhabi or simlar to Bethlehem in an electric car. Made harder by the fact that it was a busy time of year, as we know from the inability of Joe (?) and Mary to find a regular hotel room. And remember, they didn’t have AirBnB in those days and no tinterweb wtf!!!

The whole process for the magi sounds impossibly complex. There is no way they could have planned such a journey in the time seemingly available to them. Arranging hotel rooms en route would have taken months of correspondence back and forth until somewhere had been sorted for each day of the journey. It is also highly unlikely that they would have had advanced notice as this birth will have had higher levels of secrecy and security than any that had gone before. We all know how volatile a region it is in the Middle East. It’s dangerous man.

My only conclusion is that the wise men must have brought a tent with them and wild camped. It’s the only practical solution. This does feel somewhat counterintuitive as we know they were kings, from Orient far. For the reasons of secrecy already mentioned they wouldn’t have wanted to take their normal entourage, some of whom could have been sent on ahead, to pitch the tent or negotiate the use of spare rooms with local householders en route. 

Everyone needs a bit of extra cash at this time of year so that could have worked. However that would be fraught with danger. Spies everywhere. As kings they could have dropped in on the local royalty but as we know King Herod is the one person they would have wanted to avoid. Hard to make up an excuse as to why they were passing through without giving the game away. After all, gold, frankincense and myrrh were not your regular suitcase contents. “Did you pack this bag yourself sir?”

I’m glad I was able to provide some more insight as to why today is Twelfth Night. If you have a curious mind like me I know it will have been racing. You now have no need to call upon Google.

In other news I was awake momentarily at four twenty ey em this morning when the milkman rocked up. Pure coincidence although the sound of the front door opening could have disturbed my sleep pattern. 

We haven’t started on the milk he delivered on Wednesday yet. I will drink some of it at breakfast. It will be a late breakfast today as I’ve been busy researching the Twelfth Night and THG is already busying herself around the house getting on with her daily chores.

This does make me feel somewhat of an idle git but it is still the holiday season, albeit the last day of it. Tomorrow is the weekend. Good timing.

Whilst I have nothing in my diary for today I am going to spend some time tidying the shed and doing admin. I have a growing pile of paperwork in my ‘filing’ tray. This also tends to be where I chuck stuff that doesn’t immediately need addressing so I should take a look through it in case there is anything that has become urgent.

At some stage I need to nip out to B&Q to buy some tiny screws. I have some brass label holders that need screwing into the chest of drawers in the shed but the selection of screws I have available to me are all too long. 

Ok gotta go. I have a fast that needs breaking and being a feast day we should make it a good one. Ciao bebes.

…

Today I’ve been tidying the shed. Not finished yet by a long chalk but a start has been made. The map wall has been taken down in readiness for the positioning of new posters and I’ve put the label holders on the chest of drawers. At some stage the drawers will need some compartmentalisation but I won’t do that until I know what’s going in.

I also need to glue the butter dish, broken by accident (not by me surprisingly) over the Christmas period. We had only had it a few days!

My monitors have been straightened. For this I used a spirit level. You would think getting a screen level could be done with the naked eye but there were conflicting data points. I was using the TV, a device known to be correctly fitted in the horizontal, as a calibration point. However for this to work the screen had to be parallel to the telly which it wasn’t but now is.

Breakfast this morning was a sausage sandwich then a five minute chillax to drink my tea. A short respite from the madness of the world. The madness continues, I’m sure, whilst I respite 🙂

Back at my desk now. Not sure that means much. Most of the world still lies abed or is away walking in Derbyshire, or Scotland or somewhere. In other words still on holiday.

The Davieses are home from our short break on the Wirral. The hire car has been dropped off and THG has gone to the gym for her daily adrenaline fix. I have conference call at ten and a funeral at 12.30. One of the boys from the Rugby Club. Adie is picking me up. That will be the day done.

From what I can see only one person is working and he is the person with whom I have a conference call at ten. Honestly. The things I do! I can ask him what Santa brought him for Christmas. Always assuming he had been a good boy last year obvs. Soon find out.

Aside from that I do have plenty of jobs I could be getting on with. Yesterday I took a look at log splitter hire. Only deal I could find locally cost £90. I think I’m going to stack the rounds tidily and just split them as needed with my purpose built felling axe. You can buy a big bag of logs for £90.

This is probably not how they recommend doing it in “Norwegian Wood” but it is what it is. I have a pair of gloves and a Timberland shirt that would look appropriate on a lumberjack so that will do. Must dig out that book and read it again. Norwegian Wood. The bible of woodcutters everywhere.

We probs have enough logs now to see out the decade. A somewhat dramatic statement but the fire very rarely gets lit. I do like the concept of having a good logpile though. It provides a sense of security. 

Today would be a good day to get a few jobs done in the garden. It is still a bit wet after storm Henge, or whatever it was called, blew in and blew away again but it is bright and sunny. Won’t have time meself obvs, as you know.

Starting to get a bit irritated with Google docs btw. Keeps suggesting grammatical corrections. Ok ok I know it might be right in the strictest sense of the language but who cares nowadays. It’s a bit like when you ask Bard or ChatGPT to write something. The output is very correct but a bit cardboard. I guess I could ask AI to make more use of colloquialisms but I prefer to do it myself.

As a bit of fun I just asked bard to make the above text funkier and got the following suggestions:

Funkifying your text:

1. Dialect and Slang:

• Swap “chillax” for “zoned out” or “spaced out” for a more British vibe.
• Instead of “respite,” try “a quick breather” or “a moment of peace.”
• Ditch “obvs” for “obviously” in most cases, but leave one or two for authenticity.
• Sprinkle in some regional slang – “mebbe” for “maybe,” “bloody” for emphasis, etc.

2. Play with Punctuation and Emojis:

• Use ellipses (…) for dramatic pauses and trailing thoughts.
• Add dashes for quick asides and interjections.
• Throw in some well-placed emojis to emphasize tone and emotions. ☕️ 🪓

3. Vivid Imagery and Humor:

• Instead of “the madness continues,” paint a picture: “the world’s still buzzing with bonkers, I suspect, while I’m here sipping my Earl Grey like a zen sloth.”
• Describe the Davieses’ return with more flair: “The Davieses are back from Wirral, hire car deposited, THG bouncing back from her gym fix like a caffeinated kangaroo.”
• Add a quirky line about the conference call: “Chatting logs with a bloke at 10 who probably got socks for Christmas. Fingers crossed he wasn’t naughty!”

4. Conversational Flow:

• Address the reader directly: “You know I won’t get time for gardening, even on a sun-drenched day like this.”
• Break up text into shorter paragraphs for a more informal feel.
• Use contractions and incomplete sentences to mimic spoken language.

5. Embrace the Imperfect:

• Leave those “grammatical corrections” be! Authenticity over textbook grammar any day.
• Let your personality shine through. Don’t worry about sounding “cardboard” – your unique voice is what makes the writing funky.

By incorporating these elements, you can transform your text into a groovy, relatable, and downright fun read. Remember, the key is to let loose, have fun with language, and express yourself in a way that feels true to you.

Then this is the ChatGPT output

Groovy morning vibes, cats and kittens! Breakfast kicked off with a saucy sausage sandwich, followed by a five-minute chillax sesh to vibe with my tea. A brief escape from the world’s craziness. The madness is probably still doing its thing while I take a break 🙂

Back in the grind at my desk. Not sure if that means a whole lot, though. Most of the world is still catching Zs or strolling through Derbyshire, Scotland, or who knows where. Translation: still on vacay.

The Davies crew is back from our quick jaunt to the Wirral. Ditched the rental wheels, and THG (The Homegirl) is hitting the gym for her daily adrenaline rush. I’ve got a conference call at ten and a funeral at 12:30 for a Rugby Club mate. Adie’s giving me a lift. That’ll wrap up the day.

Seems like the only one pulling the work card is the dude I’m conferencing with at ten. Seriously, the things I do! Maybe I’ll ask him what Santa slipped into his stocking. Assuming, of course, he was on the nice list last year. We’ll see.

Apart from that, I’ve got a stack of tasks waiting for my attention. Checked out log splitter rentals yesterday—local deals are a whopping £90! Thinking I’ll just stack the wood neatly and bust out my purpose-built felling axe when needed. A bag of logs for £90? No, thanks.

Maybe not the “Norwegian Wood” way, but it is what it is. Got my gloves and a Timberland shirt that screams lumberjack chic. Must fish out that book and give it another go. Norwegian Wood—the holy grail of woodcutters.

We’re probably sitting on enough logs to last the decade. Sounds dramatic, but the fireplace rarely sees action. Still, I dig the idea of a solid logpile—it’s like a cozy security blanket.

Today’s prime for knocking out a few garden tasks. It’s a tad soggy post-Storm Henge or whatever it called itself, but the sun’s out. Sadly, no time for me to dig in, as you know.

Getting a tad peeved with Google Docs, by the way. Keeps throwing grammar suggestions my way. I get it, they might be right in the grammar rulebook, but who cares these days? It’s like asking Bard or ChatGPT to spin a yarn—sure, it’s spot-on, but a bit too cardboard. I could ask AI to throw in more slang, but I’d rather bring the funk myself.

V Californian. Anyway gotta go. Need to shave before the funeral

Just for fun I asked ChatGPT to turn that previous text into UK english speak

ChatGPT

Top of the morning, folks! Brekkie kicked off with a cheeky sausage sarnie, followed by a five-minute chillax session to sip on my cuppa. A brief escape from the world’s madness. The craziness is probably still doing its thing while I take a break 🙂

Back in the grind at my desk. Not sure if that means a whole lot, though. Most of the world is still catching some Zs or strolling through Derbyshire, Scotland, or who knows where. Translation: still on holiday.

The Davies crew is back from our quick jaunt to the Wirral. Ditched the rental wheels, and THG (The Homegirl) is hitting the gym for her daily adrenaline rush. I’ve got a conference call at ten and a funeral at 12:30 for a Rugby Club mate. Adie’s giving me a lift. That’ll wrap up the day.

Seems like the only one pulling the work card is the bloke I’m conferencing with at ten. Seriously, the things I do! Maybe I’ll ask him what Santa slipped into his stocking. Assuming, of course, he was on the nice list last year. We’ll see.

Apart from that, I’ve got a stack of tasks waiting for my attention. Checked out log splitter rentals yesterday—local deals are a whopping £90! Thinking I’ll just stack the wood neatly and bust out my purpose-built felling axe when needed. A bag of logs for £90? No, thanks.

Maybe not the “Norwegian Wood” way, but it is what it is. Got my gloves and a Timberland shirt that screams lumberjack chic. Must fish out that book and give it another go. Norwegian Wood—the holy grail of woodcutters.

We’re probably sitting on enough logs to last the decade. Sounds dramatic, but the fireplace rarely sees action. Still, I dig the idea of a solid logpile—it’s like a cosy security blanket.

Today’s prime for knocking out a few garden tasks. It’s a tad soggy post-Storm Henge or whatever it called itself, but the sun’s out. Sadly, no time for me to dig in, as you know.

Getting a tad peeved with Google Docs, by the way. Keeps throwing grammar suggestions my way. I get it, they might be right in the grammar rulebook, but who cares these days? It’s like asking Bard or ChatGPT to spin a yarn—sure, it’s spot-on, but a bit too cardboard. I could ask AI to throw in more slang, but I’d rather bring the funk myself.

This morning we wave goodbye to Bebington and set the autopilot for Lincoln. A few tasks to complete first including making the sandwiches and then the obligatory visit to the cemetery en route.

Wirral was wet. Most of the country has been wet I guess. Wet, wet, wet, wet, wet. Fortunately last night THG, who is an observant of dry January, drove to the pub and back. No TV in the Rose and Crown, which is one of the reasons it is such a great place, but plenty of punters were following the darts on their phones. A cry went out when the kid won.

For a 16 year old to get to the World Darts Championships final he must have spent most of his time practising. However it is difficult to apply the label “misspent youth” in this case considering his winnings from this tournament have already hit two hundred thousand pounds.

I’m crap at darts although not as crap as I am at snooker. It really annoys me how good the pros are at snooker. Snooker and darts seem to go together. Birds of a feather. Pool and darts as well.

We have a dartboard at home although it is pretty inaccessible in what used to be the playroom but is now a store. We did have a pool table but that was disposed of due to lack of use. Also it took a lot of space on the landing.

After finishing my degree I hung around Bangor for six months. Work seemed to be an unattractive proposition. I recall having a pool challenge with Gwyn Bere. First to twenty, loser bought the winner a meal.

The tourney took place over a few weeks and didn’t start well. I lost the first eight games. This was not good as being on the dole I could ill afford to buy GB dinner. Gradually I caught up and on the last day it reached nineteen frames apiece. The last game took nearly an hour. Both of us were afraid to lose. I emerged victorious and a gang of us repaired to an Italian restaurant on Bangor High Street for the celebratory dinner.

I played a lot of pool in those days but now it’s about once a decade. I can’t imagine I am any good anymore.

…

For reference the milkman came at five thirty five this morning and left two pints of semi skimmed.

It is Tuesday 2nd January. This date was brought to you by whoever invented the calendar. I could look it up but don’t want to know badly enough. I should know.

In reality different people were probably given different periods to look after, or different days. You can invent Tuesdays or you can have the third millennium etc. Bet they didn’t give much thought to Tuesday the second of January twenty twenty four. 

2024! In the days when I used to write dates, on cheques maybe, remember them? it would take me a while to get used to writing down the new year. Not a very long while but a while. Doesn’t happen anymore. It’s not often we have to write down a date really. Enough of this date nonsense. Moving on.

Already been busy this morning. Called Enterprise Car & Van Hire in Lincoln to extend our rental by a day. Totes got the amount of time we needed the car wrong. It’s only thirty eight quid a day. It’s a small car and won’t wade through 97cm of water but that is a risk we had to take. It’s all they had. I suppose many people have to manage with cars that can’t ford rivers or climb mountains. I suppose.

Seems a calmish day out. Miserable but calm. The lawn outside the cottage is covered in the leaves that once lived on the now naked trees above. The trees don’t look right without leaves. No sign of any walkers. Maybs they don’t come past our gaff. Days are non days at this time of year. Nothing going for them.

Today is another day of seeing family and friends. One of them is a surprise visit to George and Barbara which came as a result of THG texting them asking where in the world they were, thinking they were on holiday somewhere exotic. Turns out they haven’t yet left the country. Obvs waiting for that slow boat. Find out later. Saved me another trip to the museums. 

I like the idea of a slow boat. What’s the hurry?

Blwyddyn newydd dda i chi,
Ac i bawb sydd yn y ty,
Dyma yw fy nymuniad i,
Blwyddyn newydd dda i chi.

Went to bed at the usual ten pee em last night only to be woken up by noise outside the house at just before midnight. I say a noise. It was more like a full scale battle. Bombardment. Never heard so many fireworks. Didn’t look out the window. Only lasted a few mins and then died down allowing me to continue my sleep.

A slow breakfast is planned. This, fyi, will include a grapefruit I picked up in the M&S Food Hall yesterday. We arrived early at M&S, mistakenly thinking it opened at ten o’clock. Reality was ten thirty. At ten past ten there was already a small queue!!

Made more sense to sit in the car as it was cold. By ten thirty the queue was mahoosive. Who’d a thunk? The shop opened and the queue emptied into it closely followed by us. It was v busy but we found all we needed plus the grapefruit and four pints of milk, paid for our goods and left.

Off to West Kirby today as it is one of THG’s fave places. Back to watch the darts and then a takeaway from the Alam Balti. We are going for Set Meal A at £28. This includes 2 papadums & chutney, onion bhaji (4), seekh kebab (2), chicken tikka masala, chicken tikka balti or lamb tikka balti, Bombay potatoes, naan & 2 pilau rice.

More food than we might have ordered if selecting from the menu but a good deal. Our alternative would have been

onion bhaji £3.90
chicken tikka masala £7.50
lamb tikka balti £9.90
pilau rice £2.50
plain naan £2.00

total £25.80

So you can see it makes sense to go for the set menu 🙂We can always take any leftovers home to Lincoln.

You will already know from the opening Welsh lines that today is New Years Day. Twenty twenty three was a good year despite all the crap going on in the world. I am looking forward to twenty twenty four. Look after yourselves and HNY.

Oh and THG made the tea this morning fair play to her.

…

West Kirby was a bit of cobweb blow but nothing open. No caffs. People just walking along the new promenade which is v nice. We blew on to Thurstaston Beach but twas a very short visit. No hope whatsoever of finding any parking. Back now in Port Sunlight and settled in front of the darts with a cup of tea and a crumpet. What’s not to like?

The Wirral is not at its nicest at this time of year. Nowhere is, I guess. Dull skies above cold, dirty roads. If I lived here I would probably opt to go to my villa in Barbados. Assuming I had one. I would probs have to buy one. I’d prefer somewhere near the med. Dilemma innit. The med is too hot in summer. Plus I don’t believe in holiday homes. I’d have a flat in London but missed the boat on that one.

The tea rota resets on New Year’s Day – first name alphabetical order, ie Anne then Tref. THG made the tea this morning. We take it in turns. It was observed that tomorrow it would be my turn. Unless we reset the rota. Not sure that will work 🙂.

We are in Port Sunlight, the model village built by Lord Leverhume of Sunlight Soap fame to accommodate his employees. Fair play. It is actually sunny out there although it very much wasn’t when we got here last night. THG has gone for a run. I just saw her striding past the war memorial on the green in front of the house.

Off visiting THG rellies this ey em followed by a bit of a food shop. There is an M&S food hall in Bromborough, apaz. It’s our best bet for steaks. I looked up a review of steaks purchased from the nearest supermarkets – Aldi/Lidl/Tesco/Asda and they were all rubbish, except M&S which was v good. So that’s where we are going.

New Year’s Eve is steak and chips night in the Davies household. It is the law. Before that we will saunter to Liverpool to the Library after which THG will hit the shops and I a museum or two. The plan is to rendezvous in a public house, or two (or three – wild partying ou quoi?) prior to returning to PS for the evening meal.  Merseyside has an excellent train service.

Tomorrow is, by definition, New Year’s Day where by tradition everywhere you might want to visit is shut so no idea what we have in mind as entertainment. Liverpool are playing in the evening so that takes care of eight pee em onwards. I think the museums are open although we tend to do them to death.

Not sure we ever used to do anything on New Year’s Day. It was always one of those days you accepted there was bugger all on and it therefore made sense to stay indoors and get bored. Anyway New Year’s Day is another day. M&S Food Hall here we come. #livingthedream. Must remember to buy some milk as our milkman doesn’t serve the Wirral and he doesn’t come on a Sunday anyway.

…

Sat in The Bridewell. THG and I have “hit the shops”. We separated at Liverpool Central as we are totes incompatible when it comes to this activity. 

I headed towards John Lewis but the nearer I got the more I realised this was a mistake. JL is a shop that sells things most people want to buy or at least would like to buy if they had enough readies. I am not one of these people. It isn’t that time of the decade. Century.

THG and I had arranged to meet at this pub after the shops shut at four pee em. I’ve just arrived early to make sure we got seats. It is crowded but I have secured a single seat at a table I am sharing with a couple who are not from these parts. I know this because she towks loike vis.

I tried a couple of interesting pubs en route. The Empire and McCartneys. The former was cosy enough but pumping bland pop muzak and had the very boring standard brewery set of beers. Ditto McCartneys where the interest was in being able to watch Fulham v The Arsenal, cough, but there were no good seats from where I could watch the game so I blew. Both had the same beers. 

The Bridewell is a proper pub. I am working my away along the pumps from right to left. I won’t manage them all, before you start to worry. Just the IPAs. I like IPAs.

There was a time when I wouldn’t mind going to the shops. It does feel as if this was at least twenty years ago. I hung on to the habit for a while by only visiting retail outlets where there were notionally good bargains to be had. I’ve stopped this. A bargain is only a bargain if you need the particular item anyway.

We arrived in Port Sunlight to classic west of the country weather ie chucking it down. The cottage is v comfortable. One of the Leverhulme model village jobs. Made a schoolboy error by not checking the gin level before we set off so popped out to the Lyceum Social Club for a lager before dinner.

The Rose and Crown is notionally an eleven minute walk away but this is not a night for roaming abroad. A haiku I wrote a few years ago describes the sitch:

wild night of fearful darkness
leaves chased freely by the wind
a tree falls

A warming turkey curry is on the menu, having no doubt improved its flavour from an already high bar when cooked a day or two ago. Curries and stews always improve with age and refrigeration.

We have a three bedroom cottage for the two of us. This means space. I was somewhat wary of places that were billed as for two. They will be tiny. It’s about quality of life not cost. 

We did have a slight issue when THG started on warming up the dinner. The gas wouldn’t switch on and no obvious means of doing so. Hmm. I called the support line and someone with an Indian or Filipino accent answered. Didn’t bode well. The housekeeper was on another job and thirty minutes away.

I went out to the garage in the village and purchaysed a cigarette lighter. This did the job. Then the customer support person rang back and said that according to the manager there was a lighter in the drawer. We looked again in the drawers that we had already searched twice and lo and behold there it was, a black lighter in the dark cutlery tray. Ok. We move on but these little incidents are annoying.

Tonight we have a quiet night in front the telly in prospect. Anne and Tref. Nice.

Driving across to the Wirral made me think of the people who are no longer with us. Our mams and dads and others. My grandmother. This low light cold winter’s day seemed to fit the subject of death. A miserable day. Joyless. One for a cuddle in front of the fire and an early night.

There is a fire in the front room but not sure it works. Upon investigation there is a gas ignition mechanism that doesn’t seem to work. Perhaps we use the same lighter as the hob! Dunno. I have a (the) gin in my hand and am not shifting. This cottage needs a manual. An Userguide.

TV chromecast working. Now playing the darts. Result.

Today, as part of the Twelve Days of Christmas festivities, we commemorate St. Thomas Becket. This is worth a moment or two of reflection.

Right, that’s over for another year. Up and at it by around eight ey em. Some of you will say eight? Eight? Tref, that is the middle of the morning. Others will rub their bleary eyes, look at the clock and say it’s only eight, turn over and go back to sleep.

Got some breakfast items to cook. One last remaining sausage from the Christmas stash, a bit of mashed potato to fry. Bit of bacon. Stuff like that. Figured I’d sit at the table for a while before embarking on the project. Another cup of tea is in the making.

Busyish morning ahead. Got to check THG’s car before our John drives it to London for a few days and then have to nick it to nip to Waitrose for a few basic supplies before he goes. Beer, crisps, stuff like that. All in aid of the aforementioned commemoration.

My own wheels are unusable at the moment since the man from the AA diagnosed an air pressure fault. It is drivable in restricted power mode. I’m taking it in first thing tomorrow in advance of picking up a courtesy car from Enterprise Rent a Car to head to the Wirral.

The milkman, btw, came at three twenty ey em with a double delivery as Monday is a bank holiday.

…

Our decs are mostly coming down today. The tree can stay as it is until the new year.

…

Ambitions for 2024.

The birth of a new year. It’s a couple of days away yet, 2024. It is unlikely that I will be awake at the birth. Will be there, I assume. Just asleep.

2024 already has a lot going for it. Hannah and I are off to South Africa for a couple of weeks at the end of January on a dad and daughter trip and THG and I are off to France in the summer. A few days in Paris for the Olympics and then a few days in Normandy. Nothing planned beyond that although I have been thinking about an Antipodean adventure the following year. 

I’d like to think I’ll be cutting down on the travel although I’ll believe it when I see it. Part of me wants to go off on long adventures, three months maybs, but these extended trips really do take their toll on the body. At least if the six weeks in France for the Rugby World Cup are anything to go by. Also we live in a nice place and there is no urgent need to go away.

Oh, I forgot there is The Hay Literary Festival to look forward to and we have tix for Nile Rodgers and Sting sometime in the summer in Sherwood Pines. Taking one of our campervans. And we are going to see Pink Martini in Southend. No doubt I’ve forgotten some stuff. I will have written it down.

Then there’s the cricket at Trent Bridge. Windies. I joined Notts CCC for the 2024 season. If anyone fancies going along for a county game lemme know. All my test tix are taken soz.

I stopped making new year’s resolutions yonks ago. The same things appeared every year: lose weight, get fit, give up the booze and the one night stands etc etc. 

It feels as if the shed could do with a bit of a tidying up. Maps need to come down and put in my map box for easy access and reference. The map box is an ELEY small arms ammunition box I picked up at an antique warehouse in Stamford. I have quite a few posters ready to replace the maps on the wall. Need to be careful with the maps. They are stuck on with blu tack and although they weren’t expensive, I think I paid two pounds fifty each in a vintage shop in Southport,  maybe a bit more, they are nineteen forties National Geographic maps and deserve looking after, a bit of respect.

In particular the shed is littered with old laptops the Davies men retrieve from the attic when they are all home for use in playing games. Pain in the neck really. It’s the only time they are used. I suspect they are mostly perfectly good machines but they are all windows based and I am not. Don’t play games meself. Dunno where people find the time. 

I guess I like to do other things with my own time. Ritin n stuff. Hence all the posting. I’m just trying it out on y’all before it hits the West End stage, whatever ‘it’ is. 

Other than the aforementioned I think I’m just going to take 2024 as it comes.

The Feast of the Holy Innocents is once again upon us. V poignant. I mentioned this to THG. She already knew. Outside, a streak of pink emblazoned across the sky points towards a stormy day ahead. The oh nine thirty five to Leicester calling at Nottingham appears to be on time. Two sausages sizzle on the griddle.

THG and I are down at breakfast. Noises were heard earlier on the landing but none of our house guests have, as yet, made it as far as the kitchen. All is well.

Two of our guests check out today at various times. The house is beginning the process of restoration to normality. There is no button to press. It is a gradual process that culminates in the realisation that all is quiet, again.

I quite like the idea of being able to reboot and start the house back in “normal mode”. A near instantaneous event. The downside is that there would be no lingering goodbyes or fond farewells. “Looking forward to seeing you in January” etc. Kisses, cuddles, fluttering handkerchiefs. A certain moistness in the corner of the eye. That kind of stuff.

You should know that I flutter no handkerchief. It would need to be a clean one if I did, obvs. Handkerchiefs really play no role in modern living, at least in the mainstream. 

There will be pockets of resistance. Tributary valleys of rivers that serve the dark satanic mills of the industrial north where news from the outside world rarely penetrates and the relief of Mafeking is still celebrated on the nearest Monday to the seventeenth of May. This is a very localised and quietly celebrated public holiday that the locals prefer not to broadcast too widely in case someone in authority notices and changes the local byelaw that has provisions for such events. 

Time moves slowly in these parts of the country. They still only have BBC1, BBC2 and ITV on the telly and the light programme on the wireless. Who needs more. It is mostly rubbish anyway.

Anyway gotta go. Have to drop a guest off to catch the oh nine thirty five and in order to do that I need to be dressed and ready to rock and roll.

…

In other news my car has gone into “restricted performance” mode. This is not convenient. I love my Land Rover Defender but if it starts having problems I may change my views. It’s already had a new turbo, under warranty. Had I had to pay that would have been four and a half grand’s worth. Then I had rodents chew through the fuel pipe resulting in a not cheap repair job and not covered by warranty. That couldn’t be blamed on Land Rover. Now this. Will see how it goes.

My biggest issue is if I didn’t have a Defender I have no idea what car I would want instead. I spend years deciding on a car and I can’t see me wanting any other make/model. Maybe I’d do without and see how that goes. Fuel, insurance and tax costs over four grand a year. You can get a lot of taxis and hire cars for that kind of money. I don’t think electric cars are ready for me yet.

The AA man came ahead of time. Took a while to diagnose the fault but it turned out to be a low air pressure issue which may well be just a sensor. Taking the car in on Saturday morning.

…

Carholme Golf Course was a lake this morning as I drove past. Lake Carholme, a new leisure facility for Lincoln residents. Better get used to it.

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The news this pm is that having cooked a turkey curry for consumption on Saturday evening there is no availability until seven thirty tonight at the snooker club. Lots of bored folk looking for something to do. It would have been a lamb to the slaughter job as our John is better than me. We are now watching the darts.

Sat in the front room with a cup of tea listening to the sound of the rain on the conservatory roof. Chucking it down outside. I quite like seeing the raindrops splash on the granite worktop around the bbq. The water doesn’t flow off showing how level it is – well done @Nick Rossington, perfect job.

THG and I are off swimming this morning. The last lane swim slot is at eleven. Am hoping the whole world won’t be thinking of exercise until after the year is out. It will be what it will be. It is a gloomy morning and hopefully the rain will keep potential swimmers indoors.

The time between Christmas and New Year’s Eve is somewhat anticlimactic. Truth be told we aren’t big New Year’s Eve partygoers in our house so it isn’t even as if we have one last fling to celebrate the old year’s passing. 

I have occasionally been tempted to mark the twelve days of Christmas in accordance with historical tradition which would take the partying into January. However the fact that we started “feasting” at the beginning of December makes a “twelve dayer” at this stage of the game physically challenging.

In the interest of historical accuracy I just googled the twelve days of Christmas but it initially kept coming up with the song. A tweak to the search term did the job. Today is the Feast of St. John the Evangelist. I’ve stuck it in my calendar as an annually repeating event. Makes a lorra sense to me. Good ole St John.

There do appear to be a few gaps in the feasting so not every day is going to involve over eating and drinking. Makes sense to me. Just had breakfast and I’m already feeling full. Won’t need any lunch. There won’t be enough leftovers to last every day until Twelfth Night anyway. We are already talking about freezing some of the cheese which happens every year. I guess we could buy less cheese…

One feature of having a full house at Christmas is the self filling dishwasher. Well it feels like that. Every time I try putting something in it it is always full. Either that or already running a wash cycle. THG tells me the same applies to the wash basket. As soon as it is emptied it fills up again. I’m assuming the tumble drier is also taking some hammer cos as you know it is raining outside.

It is noted that the milkman delivered two pints of semi skimmed at three twenty nine am this morning.

Ah the mundane aspects of life that hide behind the glamour of the Christmas holiday. Hope yours is going well for you.

Ciao bebes.

The kitchen is bathed in bright, dazzling sunlight. So much so I’ve moved into the living room to drink my tea. Upstairs the bagpipes have started up. I must say this has brought a smile to my face. Tom, the owner of this new set, is clearly up and now the others will soon follow.

Today is Tom’s birthday and I guess he can get away with it, for the moment 🙂What is clear to me is that the bagpipes are not an instrument you can just pick up and play intuitively. Some lessons are going to be required. Currently we are at the drone stage. No tune yet.

We do have a plan for the day ahead. Well actually no we don’t. Some years we set off for my sister Ann’s in Holt which is a four hour trek and therefore quite disruptive on Tom’s birthday. We like visiting the fam obvs but this year the lad gets to chill out and has a day of football watching in store. That’s soccer for the colonials amongst us.

The house is remarkably tidy. This is down to the endeavours of THG whilst the rest of us slumbered in front of the fire. On the coffee table the lid on the customary large tin of Quality Street sits loosely on top obscuring the fact that there won’t be many chocs left. Next to it are two large Monty Don gardening books. THG has already made inroads into their contents.

The bagpipes have done their work and all the occupants of the bedrooms are now in the kitchen. The smell of bacon accompanies the sound of sizzling and the occasional refrain of Christmas carol lingers.

Christmas climaxed yesterday. Over for another eleven months before the build up starts again. Boxing Day onwards is all about surviving the remainder of the holidays before the self imposed austerity of January kicks in.

I don’t really like the months of January and February and can see why those who can move to sunnier climes for the period. There is a BA sale on. I clicked on an ad for a holiday in the Caribbean but the term sale proved to be relative. A cursory glance showed a saving of £250 on an £8,500 holiday to Trinidad and Tobago with business class flights. Didn’t bother looking up First but don’t think they fly that class of cabin to da Caribbean, mon.

Anyway I am already off to the Southern Hemisphere in January. It is summer down there. Good job I haven’t packed away my summer clothes. I say “down there” but there is no real reason why the Northern Hemisphere should be depicted on the top half of the globe. It is fairly arbitrary.

In the meantime my biggest decision of the day is what to eat for dinner. The choice is left over lamb balti or leftover beef and turkey in a fajita. Having just consumed some toast and marmalade prior to moving into the living room I don’t feel inclined to think about food right now. The decision is being deferred.

The milkman normally comes on Mondays but not this one obvs. Probs wants to give the horse a break. All is quiet upstairs in the Davies house except for the occasional sound coming from a bathroom.

Downstairs is a hive of activity, at least in the kitchen, as THG gets on with some of the veg prep and I prepare myself for the breakfast short order chef role. The ingredients are out of the fridge but there is noone yet to cook for.

Tbh we are all still full after last night’s chindian. It may be a restrained Christmas breakfast although I’ll believe it when I see it.

In the meantime please show restraint when opening the presents. I have visions of wrapping paper flying around in a frenzy, cries of delight or feigned “this is my favourite colour slightly too small jumper” delight and “don’t forget who gave you what so that you can write thank you letters. Now what did aunty Flo give the youngest?

Happy Christmas all

The king’s Christmas message was just mentioned on the wireless set on my bedside table. Didn’t hear the context. I have a built in filter that switches these things off. Used to do the same with the old queen. They are not relevant to me.

Tis the Eve of Christmas. Morning. THG and I are up and at it but there is no sign of life coming from any of the guest bedrooms. The bottom of the refrigerator is being emptied to assess the vegetable sitch. See whether we need to add owt to the list for a last minute dash to the shops. 

I made a fab beef stock yesterday so that is sorted and this morning first thing, before breakfast, I’ll crack on with the pigs in blankets so that we know how much leeway we have with sausages and bacon. Be assured we have plenty.

The emptying of the fridge revealed a supply chain issue in that we would appear to have multiple bags of different foodstuffs. This situation arises when you have seven independent minded people in the house who indulge in multiple ad hoc trips to the shops.

Rewind. I took a break from writing and after tomorrow’s pigs in blankets we only have three bangers left. These will not survive this morning and therefore sausages have been added to the last minute shopping list. The Waitrose sausages won’t be as good as Fosters spicy Lincolnshire farmhouse but needs must. Can’t see Fosters opening today.

It is amazing how much food we get through with seven large adults in the house. The sitch is exacerbated by the fact that most of them seem to go to the gym or off for runs to Nettleham and back thus increasing their appetites. When you add midnight/one ey em visits to the fridge upon return from the pub you can understand how we really need to stay on top of the food inventory.

I daresay I will add to this post when I have some leisure time later today but for now I am off to cook breakfast.

Ciao amigos.

..

The shopping list is slowly being compiled:

Grean beens

Aunt bessies yorkshires

Milk

Sore sedges

Bread and croissants

unsalted butter

peas

I struck off tinned grapefruit as THG had, with great presence of mind, already procured some from Lidl. This is the only time of year I have tinned grapefruit for breakfast because that is what we did when I was a kid. It is the law.

Slightly bemused by my miscalculation as to the quantity of sausages required for Christmas. I bought sixteen which turned out to be way off the mark. Dunno what I was thinking! This lot are gannets. I’ll probably need to check the wine stocks as well. They also drink like fish. No idea where they got that from. 

…

Waitrose running low on lots of things. The time to go is between two and three pee em when they will be selling stuff off cheap. Only issue is we are seriously low on freezer and fridge space. As it is THG is going to have to squeeze the yorkies in somewhere. Off course I could make fresh yorkshires tomorrow but there is so much going on you need to make life easier for yourself where possible. 

I will make the stuffing today. Get that out of the way. And the brandy butter. Food at Christmas is a lot of faff and I know some people prefer to go out to eat but it is never the same as having it at home and then crashing out on a settee in front of the fire, arm dangling into the tin of Quality Street and a glass of brandy next to it on the floor.

This year I have not made provision for trifle. I love trifle. Mam always used to make trifle, for consumption in the evening on Christmas Day. This year I am going without. There is enough to eat anyway.

Saturday morning and the house has been a hive of activity since quite early on. The noise levels have started to drop as homecoming offspring gradually head out for some last minute Christmas shopping. These Londoners are so busy forging their careers/partying that they don’t have time in the normal run of their lives. This is what the internet was designed for.

Actually I’m not sure that Vint et al had Christmas shopping specifically in mind when inventing tinternet. They almost certainly thought it would be cool to be able to send each other messages saying “Hi there, what is the weather like in Berkley?” and stuff like that. Or more likely “incoming missile coordinates”.

It takes a few moments of adjustment when they all come home. “Where did that loaf I bought go” – “they’ve eaten it already”. “How many pints of milk?” Hey, we wouldn’t have it any other way. There is plenty of time when it is just the two of us. We are ok.

I do have some duties to perform this morning. Our Joe is cooking us a gourmet lunch and I have to strip three ducks of their breasts and make some stock. Mallard. In my mind this is a day to avoid shops although tomorrow it will be unavoidable. Fruit, bread, milk etc. The milkman won’t come now until Wednesday.

Preparation has already started for Christmas Day. I’ve roasted some beef bones and will be making a nice stock. Looks like this morning is going to be spent in the kitchen. Better go.

…

If your name is Eve how do you feel about being called Christmas Eve? If your surname is Day I guess it isn’t out of the question that your parents could have called you Christmas. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was known by that name. Christmas Evans for example.

If you don’t know who he was just Google it. He was a contemporary of my great (x4) grandfather The Rev Daniel Davies who founded the Baptist Church in Llandysul. I visited his grave ten years or so ago. It was in the oldest part of the cemetery and only recognisable because a member of the church happened to be around doing some job or other. The original church is still there but now used as a vestry or similar.

Daniel was a tenant farmer. He was around at the time of the great religious revival in Wales. Prior to building the church locals would gather in people’s homes to worship together and in Llandysul I believe they used the corner of a field.

Having a name like Davies did pose a problem when researching the family tree. A quarter of the inhabitants were called Davies. Dewi ap Dewi – David son of David after the patron saint of Wales. This evolved into Davids or Davies. Fortunately our lot were leaders of the religious community which helped as the census entries had them down as Ministers or Preachers.

I need to check the work I did ten years ago and expand on it. I found it hard to get back beyond Daniel without spending hours and hours on the ground. Church records were a bit patchy and “David son of David” doesn’t help the cause. Both Daniel’s brothers were also Ministers of Religion, one of them being with the established Church in Wales. There must be some written record of his parentage somewhere.

My family history is interesting. No royal lineage or someone who became famous for inventing the left handed widget extractor or similar.

However the history of the Davies family does reflect what was going on in the world around. We were tenant farmers, took part in the religious revival and then became woollen mill owners during the industrial revolution. When that began to wane we were miners and my dad was the first in the family to get a University degree.

I guess this participation in waves of change continues with my involvement with internet technology and in the subsequent generation being part of the world of social media.

I’ll let you know when the book is ready. In the meantime don’t hold your breath 🙂

Friday, Friday, looks good to me. All days should look good. It’s going to be a short one but  growing hereon longer, by the day. Silly that we should even think about yearning for long summer days when we are in deepest midwinter. We should love the dark days with low light and miserable weather. Shouldn’t we? 🙂 Let us enjoy the moment.

This is the last working day before Christmas and, believe it or not, I have some work to do. Goodness me wtf gor blimey etc. Well folks, the unremitting grinding of gears is an ever present feature in the engine room of commerce. Constant lubrication is a must. Attention cannot be allowed to drift and focus must be maintained. At all times.

In the meantime Simon the plumber is in the garage servicing the boiler. Don’t want any sudden interruptions to the normally smooth operation of the central heating over the festive season do we? Eh? Better safe than sorry. We also have the open fire as a backup. 

It’s no different to having two different broadband connections entering your property from different directions and using totally different technologies is it? One assumes every one of you has this sensible infrastructure architecture in place. No UPS mind you. Maybs I should have asked for one for Christmas.

This morning I have a ten ey em call after which I’m going to give all the staff, ie me, the rest of the day off. This is a tradition in most workplaces on Christmas Eve. I realise today is not Christmas Eve but it almost feels like it and if I want to give myself the rest of the day off I will. Carols banging out in the shed. Everything is at peace in the Davies world.

After my call @hannah and I are off to Fosters to buy protein and thence to Waitrose to buy whatever we feel like taking off a shelf. It’s the rebel team. Dad and daughter. So long and thanks for all the money off vouchers 🙂

The milkman came at four oh five this morning and left us four pints of semi skimmed.