where art collides philosoperontap

Temperatures set to drop. Why bother looking up the weather forecast when you can read my posts? 😀 Now I know there will be some of you who will say you don’t live in the same part of the world as me, same hemisphere even, but I say to you pshaw, piffle and phut. It matters not a jot. Talking Lincoln here, not Timbuktu. Just pretend you live down the road to me then it will all make sense.

The wireless has grown silent. Noone has complained. It’s a Sunday. We are not meant to enjoy ourselves, be entertained. At least on Sundays the talk is on turmoil in the church and, for this particular moment in time, not politics. I can always switch it off if I don’t like what I’m hearing. Or switch off myself. 

If I have time today I might watch Whisky Galore. The original one. It seems appropriate on the Sabbath. Doubt I’ll be helping myself to a wee dram though. Not even sure I’ve got any in. It’s usually just something I buy at Christmas. Coming soon though eh? 😉 I do have some Calvados…

Out of interest I just looked up the weather in Timbuktu. The Met Office has no data on the place. I assume therefore it must be the same weather as Lincoln. Wrap up well.

Not sure I will be getting out of the house much today except perhaps swimming this pm. Got dinner to get ready innit. I am usually the Sunday dinner wallah. THG goes off to a regular Sunday morning social called church and I don’t so I stay in the kitchen chopping, peeling and otherwise prepping stuff for the table this evening. We rarely do Sunday lunch as it kills the rest of the day. Do like a nice boozy Sunday lunch occasionally mind you, thanose.

This morning THG has prepared some smashed avocado. I just need to assemble mine with the appropriate accompaniments: sourdough toast, poached egg and a side of bacon. Avocados and sourdough hadn’t even been invented when I was a kid (afaik) so we are clearly keeping up with the times. And the Joneses, although I have no idea whether they eat smashed avocado on sourdough toast.

Anyway the cathedral bells have just struck eight forty two and I must be away. There is avocado to eat.

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Now is the calm before the storm. Before flour starts flying and the noises of cooking come loud but not necessarily clear from the kitchen. I am sat in the living room with my tea beside me on the small table procured by THG expressly for that purpose. I had previously made observations as to the dearth of places to put down a cup in this room, at least where I currently choose to sit. She heard the call and jumped into action, fair play.

Tonight’s tea is a beef casserole. We haven’t actually got enough olive oil to cook this, to seal the beef, but without realising it I had a bit of a brainwave on Friday in Fosters and threw in a tub of beef dripping with the meat. Usually we use this for roasties but it will be perfectly fine for frying beef. Perfectly fine.

It’s a fair bit of faff making a beef casserole. Lots of chopping to do then a process that has to be followed. It isn’t just a question of chucking it all in the pot, believe you me. I have all the elements to make it a success. It is mostly a success. Sometimes more successful than others. Basically down to the flavours you add into the pot but I am confident today. At least once everything is in the pan and simmering gently away you can just walk away and leave it.

This afternoon the mighty Wales take on visitors from the Antipodes. Stralia. I’m not particularly confident but will loyally wave the flag. The occasion is made more interesting in that Jac Morgan is back in the side. I met his mum and dad in a bar in Carcassonne last year during the Rugby World Cup. Siarad Cymraeg. I feel involved.

The timing of the game is perfect as it will finish just as we sit down for nosh. What’s not to like?

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Took me all morning to get the food prepped. I watched/listened to seven episodes of a ww2 documentary on you tube whilst doing so. Avin a sit down and a cuppa now before washing all the bowls I used. There is a lot to be said for having a kitchen assistant. Haven’t got one.

When she is in THG does tend to tidy up around me. Well someone has to stay on top of the mess. I’ve had to develop a system. If something is on the worktop to the left of the stove it is still being used. If I’ve moved it around the corner to near the sink it is free game. Otherwise it’s a game of hmm where’s that knife/fork/spoon I was using. Ah it might be in the dishwasher. Love is… <3 

Lovely day out. Perfect for a stroll to the shed. 

Standing on the landing looking out of the window onto the back lawn this morning I was met by a confrontation of colour. Came right up to the window and looked me challengingly in the eye. ‘You can’t talk to me like that’ I responded silently. The leaf blower stays in the garage.

In the kitchen of Tref and THG a state of calm exists. The wall clock audibly reminds us that time moves slowly on. The frying pan, retrieved from its hanging home sits patiently on the stovetop. Its time will come. A second pot of tea is considered. 

With five weeks to the winter solstice a low sun streams through the kitchen window. Long shadows on the pine table. The wireless sits quietly awaiting orders. None come. Lights out.

Bacon beckons.

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Heard on the radio there is a National Shed Association. Quite excited about this so immediately googled. Disappointingly it wasn’t quite what I had in mind. It is a men’s support organisation. Don’t get me wrong. It is a good thing I’m sure. Just not what I had in mind.

Now I think about it I did sometime ago look up sheds in relation to their use as meeting places where like minded individuals could come together to drink beer and discuss deeply interesting matters. My initiative was stopped in its tracks when I found that the idea, or at least the name, had been stolen by well intentioned individuals unknown. 

I’m sure the Lincoln branch at the time appeared to be held in a happy clappy establishment near my accountants downtown which immediately put me on my guard. However, just looked again now and that branch must have closed as they don’t seem to have a Lincoln outlet. Maybe it was some other entity based at that church.

I parked the idea but it is still a goodun. Just need to find a different name. Must include the word shed. Sheds Anonymous. Shedsrus. Sheds with a fridge.

Youda thought that a fridge was a prerequisite for any self respecting shed. Certainly is in my book. Also a bookcase 😀 My fridge does need defrosting mind you and a bit of a clean. Just a wipe down that’s all.  The bookcase probs needs dusting. The books need reading.

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No shave today. I never shave on a match day.

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Need to nip to a local market at some point to buy some food for tonight’s tea. THG has gone off to Sleaford or Spalding or somewhere for the day with some pals to watch an amateur production of Guys and Dolls and is having lunch before the show. One of my all time fave shows as I was in it thirty odd years ago. CAODS.

The point is as a result of the, presumably not insubstantial, lunch she won’t want much to eat tonight so I am sorting myself out. Ordinarily this is a cause for celebration. Eat what you like Tref. This would often be a steak with side salad and a decent bottle of red. I’m not in a steak mood. 

I don’t know what mood I’m in. It isn’t a bad mood. Just not a steak or chinese or curry or pizza mood. Needs some consideration. It may be the only way to sort it is to go and see what’s on offer. Check the melons for ripeness, smell the avocados, that sort of thing. Do people smell avocados? I know they smell some things. I’m sure I’ve seen Rick Stein do it when out and about sourcing ingredients.

I’m not particularly in a ‘spend a lot of time cooking mood’. Normally I quite like cooking and typically only get to do it at the weekend which actually is fine. I do need to buy some beer as tomorrow the menu includes something that will benefit from a slosh of beer in it. Purely culinary purposes obvs. 

Am thinking a salad with small spuds and a few nice bits of ham and cheese maybs. The food agenda has been complicated by today’s sporting timetable. Turkey v Wales at roundball at 5pm and then the second half of the England v Sprinkboks game that starts at twenty to six. 

The rugby has been starting at strange times and not the usual on the hour or half past. Presumably TV driven but I dunno. The point is the rugby won’t be finished til nearly seven thirty which is a bit late to start cooking. Late for me anyway, any road up, ‘appen.

This realisation is causing more anguish foodchoicewise. Wellavetowaitandsee.

Old Don is staying true to form with his Cabinet appointments in the US of A. My god it’s going to be an “interesting” time ahead. I will keep my head buried in the sand.

It isn’t really sand of course. We haven’t got that much. Just a small bag that we use to fill in the cracks in the paved front drive once a year, ish.

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Spent most of the morning sorting game birds for the fridge/freezer. Mallard, pheasant and partridge. Pheasant was the easiest as I just kept the brest. Ditto the duck but the technique for duck is different to pheasant so was quite ‘feathery’. Not very big breasts on wild mallard.

Then nipped down to Fosters on Monks Road for some supplies of protein. Back now waiting for a conf call to start. In about half an hour. With a big American company. Honestly, who works on a Friday afternoon? I have a load of family tree stuff to be getting on with. Other stuff as well probs.

The big news today is there isn’t any. Not that I’ve noticed anyway. Not that I’ve looked. Actually I have just looked. In the interest of research. The Guardian has an article: “Shadow Chancellor warns Reeves over EU ties after Bank chief says Brexit harming economy”. Ya gorra laugh innit. The most useless bunch of f@£$%its giving advice.

I’ve just whiled away some time on the Ancestry website and it has consumed the 25 minutes I had to wait before the conf call. This stuff chews up time.

Switched on the wireless set by mutual consent at 05.45 expecting to hear Farming Today or simlar but landed in the middle of Prayer for Today. Gawd. Mentally switched off again but was soon brought back to alert mode with farming talk. Regenerative farming, the sale of the 9,500 acre Rothbury Estate, implication on farmers of the new inheritance tax. Stuff like that.

The sale of such a large piece of land is not only rare but not something to be considered lightly when it’s been in the family for 650 years. I guess it’s part of an ongoing process. Over history wealth has moved away from the land where rental income from an estate has not kept up with the cost of the owner’s lifestyle. Gambling debts to be paid off etc. Not saying that’s the case here. I dunno. There are also nowadays more productive uses of capital. Railway mania, tulips, south sea bubbles and bitcoin…

A street cleaner just whooshed by outside, lights a flashing and suckers sucking, turning over old leaves.

Farming Today made me think of all the farmers out there listening to the same programme, swigging coffee at their kitchen table before heading out to do the milking. Gotta get mooving. Those cows don’t milk themselves yanow.

I’m still in bed but the tea fairy has arrived.

Brown bins go out this evening. I have it in my calendar as a fortnightly recurring event. No idea when the green and black bins go out. Didn’t put the dates down. Those bins just seem to roll themselves out. He he.

THG is up and at it so turned the wireless off. Nowt on worth listening to. It’s all American politics and shenanigans in the Church Of England. The archbish of Canterbury has already fallen on his crook and other names being whispered in the cloisters include our own bishop of Lincoln who THG tells me she has never met. Me neither. Probs never will.

I did once, many moons ago, sit near a Bishop of Lincoln when on the train back from London. 1st class obvs. I wonder at which point in the hierarchy of the church you qualify for business class travel. He was probably getting it on expenses for attendance at the House of Lords. Dipping the sacramental bread in the gravy train.

In those days the church was also in the news because one of the clergy responsible for sending the cathedral’s copy of the Magna Carta on tour to Australia flew his family out there first class on expenses. Well I wouldn’t want to fly to Oz anything less than first class would you? 

I can’t remember the deets but it left a stain on the altar cloth. Ended up in a very public row between the dean and the sub dean who was notionally the naughty boy and refused to fall on his own version of a crook or whatever sub deans get to brandish when delivering the sermon on fire and brimstone.

On another subject, effective oven use is a subject very close to our hearts, THG and I. Even though we have two we like to try and get everything in one. Nuff said.

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My main job today is game preparation. My friend Max very graciously swung by and dropped off braces of pheasant, partridge and wild duck (probably furious when it got shot). Might have to do it outside as last year feathers got everywhere.

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At my desk in the shed for the first time in a few days. Must be said you appreciate home comforts after being away for a while. The heater is on. All is well. As usual the shed still needs a bit of a tidy. It is ever thus. 

Perhaps one of the projects for winter. Those short days and long nights where we are forced to stay indoors and gaze out of the window at storms raging and temperatures falling. Get that wood store sorted. You are going to need the fuel. The heat. Roll on the day they invent central heating.

Other than The New Saints v Bala Town in the Welsh League Cup there is no sport on today of interest and I doubt that game will be televised. It is unlikely that anyone has any idea where The New Saints are based so impossible for a film crew to get there. Bala now, that’s obvious, innit. Wonder what happened to the Old Saints? Could look it up I suppose, New and Old. Croesoswallt. Will the cable stretch that far?

The reality is I am trying to put off starting to pluck the pheasants (yea yea I know someone will pipe up). Once I get going I’ll be ok but right now I am in prevarication mode. This is a mental setting. Replaced the button that used to be there before the information revolution resulted in the ubiquitous deployment of soft switches and the inevitable infinite dither loop. A good concept, the infinite dither. Interesting anyway. I doubt THG would agree with the term “good” when applied to dither, infinite or otherwise.

‘Let’s head north shall we’ said both of us in unison. Not really. Just sounded good as the opening line of a book/play/Hollywood travel blockbuster if there is such a thing. A travel blockbuster doesn’t really sound right. Cast of thousands, mahoosive budget etc. Suites in posh hotels and fine dining for all the leading act torrs. Winnebagoes onsite at the lot. Maybe not. Cut!

Mind you it could have been a novel/play/movie about an expedition of exploration and discovery to the Artic. Or Aberdeen. You can imagine the sitch where they were trying to decide where to go. Get the atlas out and look in the index. The immediately obvious up front choices would have been the Artic and Aberdeen simply down to their position in the alphabetical listing.

Zanzibar would have stood no chance and would in anycase have been no good as, unless the starting point is somewhere like Australia, which I can confidently say it isn’t, Zanzibar is not “up north” which is what the novel/play/film is about.

At this stage we have no idea how far up north had been in the mind of the writer. Note the term writer applies across all three genres of travelogue/West End production/moving picture and made word selection a lot easier.

We may find out as I will still be a passenger in the Silver Bullet for the next 55 miles. THG is at the wheel. If we don’t find out by the time we swap over the driving in the event that the answer reveals itself to me later I will post it as a comment.

In fact, let’s not mess about here. The original concept was a trip to the North Pole itself and still remains the case. We are going to have our photo taken stood on either side of the pole. In the book/play/Hollywood travel blockbuster.

Thassenough.

I can tell you that everything is in hand for trefbash. Having a fitting for some new threads on Thursday morning. Exciting. The cloth is being printed locally in Lincoln. Yellavetowaittoseeit. I’ve not even seen the cloth yet. Just the design concept.

A number of partygoers have already shared pics of their outfits. Some really great on topic tropical dresses out there. Worth putting some effort into this folks. Exactly one month to go. Still time to get your gear sorted.

Beeootiful morning in Chelmsford. Sausage bap consumed. Bramwell’s Brown Sauce. Was the only option. I remember getting it from the local M&S Foodstore last time down. M&S don’t do HP or Harrys or owt else. The bangers were Tesco Finest Lincolnshire. I’ve had finer. They don’t have a particularly good line in sausages,Tesco. These were 85% pork if I remember rightly but the alternatives went as low as 47%. Gimme a break.

I don’t really like going to Tescos as I don’t know where anything is and they don’t really do my kind of nosh. Not catering for me really. Sokay. I understand. I know where they/I stand. At least when it comes to sausages. Other things too. Alright if you want potatoes and cheapo sliced bread. Milk.

Anyway ready for a spot of diy, once the household is up and running. In the meantime taking time out to write this stuff.

The house in the ford of Chelm (I assume) is in quite a handy spot. A short walk from the Essex County Ground and a museum. Also the Orange Tree pub we discovered last time down. Hannah and I stopped off there for a cold one as a reward for taking stuff to the tip which is a bit of a drive away but not too far. Funnily enough we have a slot booked at the tip this pm at three thirty…

Wearing my Miller’s T’Ale tshirt purchaysed from t’pub of the same name in Peel, IoM. fwiw. I mention this because I’m sat at the desk in the hotel room with a mirror in front of me displaying said text.

The next interesting fact that I think you can’t do without knowing this morning is that the toilet roll currently in use in the bathroom was made at 19:41hrs on the 20th July of this year (2024). In all my nearly sixty three years on this planet I’ve never before noticed this sort of information printed on the inside of the roll/tube.

This could prove to be problematic as I am quite likely to start looking inside the bog rolls at home and start recording the data. After all, the noting of the milkman delivery times is a pleasure no longer afforded to me. We shall see. Maybe this roll was a one off or specific to a certain manufacturer.

There didn’t appear to be a batch number so I guess the manufacturer is not overly concerned about the need to monitor batch to batch quality variations. The other thought that sprung to mind was the fact that when it comes to loo roll when we use it we just unravel it. When it is made the strips of toilet paper need to be rolled onto the cardboard tube. This is clearly done by machine otherwise how would they achieve the uniformity of roll.

There may have been a period of time in the past where this was done by hand. Would have been quite a skilled job to get right. A well rolled bogroll could fetch a  premium. Perhaps a rich person’s treat to themselves. Who knows? I’m speculating here.

They only had thin sliced bread for toasting at breakfast in the hotel this morning. Rubbish. On the positive side it came out of the toaster right first time. Mixed feelings here 🙂None of it really matters but as the old proverb goes “lots of little things in life added together make a big amorphous mass of something else” (Isiah Chapter 27 verse 6), more commonly known as blessed are the little things.

We have finished breakfast and are now relaxing in our room. THG is uncharacteristically quiet because she is catching up on The Archers through her headphones. I don’t like The Archers. Not since the b4$*4rds killed off my fave character John Archer about thirty years ago. Wonder what he is doing now?

Outside the room there is a steady flow of traffic, being occasionally brought to a halt by a roundabout or traffic lights, or maybe even an old fashioned policeman stood on a special island in the middle of the road wearing those high viz cuffs to direct the traffic. I dunno cos I can’t see. Unlikely though, the latter. I could go out onto the balcony and stretch my neck round to see if I can see but not all that bothered tbh.

I took a look. Guess what. It was both a roundabout and traffic lights. Pedestrian xing anyway. Note the use of the abbreviated version of crossing oft seen on traffic signs. V busy roundabout.

Our itinerary shows that this morning we are at leisure in Bexley Eaf. From what we could see when driving here, and you have to remember I was concentrating on getting through the traffic and not really looking around, there is a Lidl, a caff and a couple of barbers. Probs missed a few places so no doubt a veritable treasure trove of retail delights to discover on an amble around the area.

Tara.

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This osteo arthritis is becoming a serious hindrance. Can hardly walk and certainly not any distance at a useful speed. I am seeing a consultant hip surgeon on Tuesday so hopefully he will shed light on a route forward.

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The couple wot checked in before me yesterday are ready to leave. He is doing something with his phone so maybe booking an Uber or similar. Dunno. I was right. A car has just arrived for them.

There is a pub across the road called The Prince Albert. No idea if it is any good. A red London double decker bus has just trundled on by. There is noone else in the hotel reception area. All have better things to do, probs. 10.49.

Last night’s barmaid has just rocked up in civvies and disappeared around the back of the front desk through a door marked PRIVATE. 

Saturday 9th November. On this day I would like to extend the hand of peace and friendship to all. Just getting in early before Christmas. Obvs everyone will be at it around then.

An overweight woman with a walking stick has appeared and is sat on the next table. Bloke waved goodbye to her before headed out carrying a largish square box containing some sort of appliance.

According to fitbit I got one hour and forty six minutes kip last night. I was awake from 2am. May well have been awake at that time but actually feel refreshed having had a good night’s sleep. Technology eh?

Bit of calm this morning. Friday. What do people do on a Friday? The proletariat ‘work from home’ if they can. I hear that nowadays they have their own designer treadmills in their small studies or next to the table in the dining room 🙂 I would. Mind you in the bad old days a Friday was when you would go out to the pub for lunch. An institution in many places. Rarely had a beer meself, at lunchtime.

I remember one Friday I was working late. Had to get a proposal across to the New York office. Long Island actually. This was pre email. Had to be faxed. All 150 pages. As I stood by the fax machine, must have been around 8pm (yes on a Friday – 150 pages took a long time to fax), an inbound fax appeared addressed to the Managing Director Bert Sadler. It was an offer from a competitor to buy the company! Not the whole of GEC. Just our bit of it. I picked up the fax and left it face down on his secretary’s desk.

I would have been in my thirties. Keen and career minded. Put the hours in at the coal face. Now I prefer the beach bar or that one by the harbour where you can drink coffee, watch the old men play boules and see the fish stall selling the modest catch landed fresh that morning. Making notes on observations.

It is observed that THG has gone to the gym. An early start for her today. An hour of Les Mills Body Pump. My god! I need to pack the car in readiness for a trip to the deep south. The land beyond the Big Smoke where the natives towk loik vis and support football teams called Maidstone, Chatham and Sevenoaks. Where they grow apples, pears, cherries, apricots, damsons, greengages, mirabelles, plums, and quinces (fanks google). Mirabelles??? 

They eat fresh oysters and Dover sole and nip across the Channel to France for dawn raids on the wine warehouses of Calais and Boulogne Sur Mer where beret clad proprietors tempt with an array of samples and sell plonk by the box. 

Yesterday I registered the car online with the Dartford Crossing website so that we do not have to mess around with paying the toll on the spot. Amazed I thought of it.

Keep flying the flag, of truth. 

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Half an hour now, to wait. The bags are packed, we are ready to go. Riding a set of wheels called the Silver Bullet. The bullet needs fuel. The Tesco garage was rammed. Big queues. Will get it from Waitrose. More expensive but no queues. Time is money. Time is precious. Don’t queue for petrol. Don’t queue. Don’t. Dya think the king queues for petrol? There ya go then.

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The king. A strange concept in the twenty first century. We cling on to these archaic, anachronistic institutions. Mind you you only have to look at other countries to think that maybe it’s the lesser of two evils. I thinkyouknowworrimtalkingabout.

We drove past the Lincoln Equitable Cooperative and Industrial Society building on Burton Road. Most people will just know it as the Coop. You have to cast your eye upwards and to the right, beyond the crappy modern retail facade, to the top of the fortress-like Victorian red brick building to see the gold lettering that adorns the second floor parapet.

I am a member of this venerable institution. Well, I have a coop card which I assume is the same thing. Don’t shop there particularly regularly although I did notice the other week that a litre of Tanqueray gin was only £22.50 compared with thirty quid in Waitrose so maybe I should. We sometimes nip in to the one opposite Yarborough Leisure Centre after a Sunday afternoon swim.

On the A1 we have just seen a sign for Woolsthorpe Manor. Isaac Newton’s old gaff. V famous amongst aficionados of gravity and those who benefit from it. ie all of us.

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Made it to Bexley Eaf. Waze took us by some back road through a council estate. Werere though and established in our room on the ground floor with a balcony looking out over a dual carriageway.

Now expecting two phone calls fwiw. At an appropriate juncture I will hit the bar whilst THG gets ready for the evening ahead. Visiting Hannah’s inlaws who are v nice people. A good time will be had by all.

Night has descended on the Eaf. No idea if the actual heath still exists. Hadn’t quite realised that we are still very much part of the greater London metropolis. I am a stranger in these parts.

I have visions of a farmer in mediaeval Bexley driving his cattle across the heath to get them to market in London, at that time still a day’s walk away.

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I am alone in the hotel bar except for some old geezer tucking into dinner. Plenty of vinegar and ketchup on his chips! Can’t quite see what he has ordered as he is sitting at a high table whereas I am at a low down one the other side of the room. Not particularly interested anyway but I know many of you will be. Crappo background music on and Coco Gauff on the muted telly. Riadh open or similar. Gauff is winning but a long way to go. Do fat ladies sing at the tennis. I know Cliff Richard does. Deuce.

He has his ipad open at the table. The old geezer, not Cliff. Two giggly young barmaids in Marriott branded gear flit about. Nowt going on and a few bags of crisps needed fetching from the store out the back.

I wonder what he has planned for the evening. 5.30pm is somewhat early for dindins. A night in front of the ipad in his room or maybe a big adventure out in Bexley Eaf. Not sure the Eaf is a big night out. We passed a couple of barbers that seemed quite full. Lads getting their grooming done ready for the night ahead. Gotta look right for the laydees. Good luck boys. Saturday night beneath the plastic palm trees, dancing to the rhythm of the Guns of Navarone. I discovered heaven in the Seven Sisters Road. It isn’t particularly politically correct nowadays to assume they will be chasing the opposite sex but hey… I am of an age.

“In my day” it was all about Saturday Night Fever and nights out in the Cave Disco at the end of the promenade in Douglas. They knocked it down years ago. It was in the basement of Summerland. I worked there the summer I was sixteen. Initially as a flunkey clearing tables then as a projectionist in the cinema. A seriously cushy number but very highly skilled obvs. I saw James Bond’s “The Spy Who Loved Me about 50 times. Used to get adhoc bar work as well for events outside the summer season.

The old boy probs thinks I am some businessman sat on his todd in a hotel far from home. Always tried to avoid that though sometimes not possible. Especially as when I used to travel to faraway places on business I indulged in the practice of arriving a couple of days early to get over the jet lag. I hate jetlag. Most folk would get to the conference on the day or maybe the night before.

Looking at the menu I reckon he is having fish and chips. It’s the only dish offering peas and I’m sure I saw greenery on his plate. Ketchup with fish and chips, yuk. I like bread and butter with my fish and chips, and tartare sauce. No vinegar or ketchup.

Aretha Franklin now playing. Big improvement. He has ordered sticky toffee pudding. Old Guys Rule.

The Marriott seemed to be the only sensible offering in Bexley Eaf. It’s fine. They let me park in one of the blue badge holders spots in front of the hotel entrance. Otherwise it was a serious hike around to the car park at the back and the back door was “permanently closed”. Not much use to man nor boy/dog/choose your own noun.

Bar is starting to get busier. Swatwewantinnit. Bit of atmo. Folk are gradually starting to order food. One woman wanted to know what the soup of the day is. Chicken. “Don’t want to order it yet.” All wiv an accent I only normally hear on the tv. She’s ordered olives.

Old Geezer has gone. Didn’t see him go. Probs never see him again, or know his story. All I can tell you is that the sticky toffee pudding was larvley. Apaz.

Lkasdjhfvla. Typed randomly just to get something down on the page. Get the keyboard going. Squeeze out a few creative juices. Lkasdjhfvla. Did it again. Copy and paste obvs. Well not obvs but it was. I put it there a second time just to see whether there was really any artistic or literary merit in the ‘word’. Depends on your definition of art. ‘I don’t know anything about art but I know what I like.’

Could have been typed by a monkey. It isn’t the Complete Works of Shakespeare I know but the monkey wasn’t given enough time for that. Don’t come down too hard on it. As it stands I’m sticking with Lkasdjhfvla.

The question now is how is Lkasdjhfvla pronounced. There may well be a language or two out there with similar construction. In the wild, so to speak. The fact is I don’t know how to represent pronunciation using the written word so unless anyone else can chip in I don’t think this thread is going anywhere.

The other discussion point is whether Lkasdjhfvla means anything. Not sure it has to to be classed as a word. The nitpickers and grammar police out there will likely disagree strongly with that statement but we are allowed to have our own views. Positions.

Shakespeare himself, already referred to earlier in this post, was known to have invented many new words in each play wot he wrote. I guess he had ideas as to the meaning of each new word and being a top pro  expected the audience to be able to recognise that meaning in real time as the word was uttered. “That clearly means to brush food crumbs off your ruff” they would think, for example.

Shakespeare knew to keep things simple and understandable. In the modern era he might have been a UI designer. Unfortunately he is no longer around to elaborate on the meaning of Lkasdjhfvla and would quite likely use the defence of “not invented here” in any case. Any road up.

In my mind Lkasdjhfvla is a type of yoghurt made from yak milk by monks on the upper Himalayan slopes around the Everest Base Camp. The ‘h’ is silent.

My frequent insertion of Lkasdjhfvla into this post, bearing in mind it will appear on Facebook and philosopherontap, means that it will be seen by Google as the number one reference for the word and come top of the search rankins. I’m gonna be rich 🙂

To finish off I should tell you I used Google Gemini to see whether the ‘word’ had any meaning. The answer was:

No, the string “Lkasdjhfvla” does not have a recognized meaning in any known language or code system. It appears to be a random combination of letters.

Disappointing but perhaps not unexpected.

…

Sounds like a hot air balloon taking off in next door’s garden. They are having some work done on their flat roof. We did a hot air balloon ride a couple of years ago. Fantastic experience fair play. Landed nobbut a mile from my sister Ann’s place but our car was back in Bath so that proximity wasn’t much use to us. The nearness of you.

We also have a small bit of flat roof at the back of the house above the haberdashery overflow room, formerly bedroom 5, but that doesn’t need doing so they aren’t working on that.

Quite successfully avoided the news today. It was on the wireless when I took the tea up this morning but think I got away without hearing/listening to it. Did consider leaving my Bose phones in the bedroom for noise cancellation. Bit bulky though and not comfortable when in a prone position.

That said I often use them on long haul flights. Used to use them rather. Doing less long haul flying nowadays.

Ironically the outcome of Don winning the election is to increase my personal wealth with bitcoin hitting an all time high. It’s a bit like placing a bet on the person you don’t want to win so as to get a consolation prize if they do win.

Anything going on? I’m off for a covid booster jab this morning. Bailgate pharmacy. Hopefully there’ll be a parking spot right outside. Quick in and out, hopefully.

I’ll probably spend the rest of the day recovering. Lying on the settee, arm dangling limply over the edge, that sort of thing. Wonder what’s on telly? 😀

Not really. 

Maybs. Who knows. Have a book to finish.

Playing the Spotify Calming Classical playlist on the speaker in the kitch. Sometimes an appropriate start to the day.

…

Really have to make an extra effort to not look at the news today. Bury my head in the sand. Now playing Vivaldi: The Four Seasons. It is currently autumn. In real life anyway. It’s winter in the music. Now is the winter of our discontent etc. It’s almost as if Vivaldi wrote the music to pair with Shakespeare plays.

…

Didn’t make it to the shed until eleven o’clock this morning, fwiw. I realise this is not of interest to anyone but I’m telling you anyway. My wonderful chosen life partner THG has brought across a pot of tea and life is good. I am a lucky man.

The leaves continue to pile up on the deck. Those autumn leaves of red and gold. I am in no hurry to remove them. I quite like the colours. They can stay. It is still out. No wind. Nothing to blow the leaves into crinkly drifts for children in wellies to shuffle, rustle and kick. I assume children still wear wellies.

C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais, et je t’aimais
Nous vivions tous les deux ensemble
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais

Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis

…

Let forever begin tonight.

…

Crazy world stay away
Stay focused on the important
Finish digging the bunker
Amass stocks of tinned foods

…

Lot’s of negativity around at the moment. Let’s discuss the important things in life. Pizzas should be very meaty with hot chillies. Pineapples and rocket salad should not be allowed in the same room. You can have olives if you really want but it is optional. Thin crust. Served with good quality Italian red vino.

Waiting in front room for a plasterer to come and look at a job. He is running behind but at least it got me out of bed early. Trouble is cars keep stopping in front of our drive and make me look around to see if he has arrived. They are only stopping because of the pedestrian crossing and, presumably, the weight of commuter traffic.

The ped xing is quite handy for us. We live over the road to a school but the kids all cross at the lights and never make it as far as our house. They hang around in front of next door and have been seen sitting on their front wall. We have a hedge anyway so they wouldn’t be able to sit on ours.

…

Plasterer came before brekkie this morning to size up a job. He was a good guy. Then a good breakfast of THG’s very excellent granola was taken.

Had to turn off the wireless yet again. Didn’t want to hear Don’s closing pitch, again. Just more bullshit.

Now waiting for a phone call. On my mobile. The ‘landline’ is never plugged in. I must cancel it sometime. Costs me three quid a month plus a twenty pound top up perhaps once every three or four months. See how it goze. THG never uses it. I rarely use it. The phone number that we have had for over thirty years no longer means anything to us. We live in a mobile world. Was a goodun mind you. 

The voip handset takes up space on the desk. It is tucked away behind a monitor and is only brought forward when it needs to be used. Probs could do with tidying the desk a bit as well. Manăna.

Excellent and somewhat long lunch with the golfers yesterday. I left after five and a half hours. Lightweight. Was picked up from the back of the bus station by THG and got home in time to watch the Imps beat Chesham. I may have fallen asleep before the end of the game.

Caught the Number 5 bus into town. The bus station is only a hundred yards or so from the Cosy Club where lunch had been booked. My transportation choices were taxi, £6.60, Uber £3.76 or bus, £2. Walking would have taken me too long.

I took the easy line and opted for an Uber but all the available cars were hovering downtown and none of the buggers wanted to come to our house for a measly four quid so I cancelled and left the house for the bus stop fifty yards up the road. 

This was a first for me. I’ve caught the bus home a few times. A relatively easy decis as there is a big hill, part of which is called “Steep Hill” between downtown and our house. However I rarely actually go downtown and catching the bus really felt like I was joining the great unwashed. I mean who goes downtown? All it has is chain shops and chain restaurants.

I guess the answer yesterday was that ‘I’ go downtown. Would have preferred to have had lunch up the hill in the Bailgate area but the vote went for the Cosy Club so that’s where we ended up. See how it goze for the end of season bash in December.

This morning we are out of milk. There is just enough left to service one cup of tea which I shall prepare next time I venture into the house. THG is sourcing some more on her way back from the gym. There is a milk shop opposite. They sell other things too. 

Soup for lunch.

…

Soup was supped. As usual a top notch THG production. Roasted tomatoes.The phone call came in as I was heating it up. Sorted. Back at the shed face now. Might go swimming at 3pm. Wait until lunch has gone down innit.

…

We are both back in da hoose. Me from da pool and THG from helping out at the old dears afternoon tea. She says it’s for all ages. Oo maybs I’ll see if the boys fancy going along one afternoon 🙂 . At least one of them is officially at retiring age next year. Afternoon tea at the church would be a marked contrast with yesterday’s all day drinking session.

Don’t want to do that too often. Next one is in exactly one month’s time with the end of season get together. Plenty of time to recover. Everyone will be in bed early tonight.

Snearly dark. Is dark really. The mood lighting is on in the shed. I have a cup of tea in hand. All good folk should be thinking about getting home to their warm front rooms or kitchens, slippers on, stroking the cat etc.

The shed TV remains off and there is no music playing. It is a slight downside of the system that when I stream Spotify over the Google TV Streamer all the track metadata is displayed on the screen together with my family photos (thousands of em) screensaver. 

The screensaver is quite a good feature as I am reminded of good times past that might otherwise have stayed buried. However I do quite like the idea of playing music whilst watching muted TV. Sport for example. There’s probs a way of doing it if I stared at it long enough. Spotify used to be able to pick up the amp as an option but for some time now it has played through whichever streaming device happens to be plugged in. Prefer it to go direct to the amp actually.

5pm exactly and I think I just heard a firework. If we had a dog it would be time to bed it down safely and draw the curtains

Had to switch the wireless off even before we got to ‘thought for the day’. Was full of US election crap. They seem to have more than their fair share of extremely gullible people in Amurica. Now I think about it, thought for the day is preferred listening.

Lunch out with the lads today. Lads who do lunch. Well it beats going to the bingo or the afternoon whist drive at the Derby and Joan club. Made that last bit up. Dunno if such a thing exists really. Derby and Joan club. Correct me if I am wrong. Were we hard core golfers we would be getting a round in beforehand but we ain’t so we ain’t. I dare say we will be getting a few rounds in with lunch.

Today is stardate November 4th. It’s a bit of a non date really coming as it does between November 3rd and November 5th 🙂The point being that the fifth is obvs quite a famous date in history and is typically celebrated with fireworks displays and bonfires and the third happens to fall on the Sunday before the fifth when people in reality hold these celebrations.

The fifth of November may well not be particularly famous outside the UK of course. Other countries will have their own prominent dates in the calendar. For example Bhutan abolished slavery in 1958. 1958!! I found that out when looking for prominent dates in a randomly selected country. Started with Brazil but didn’t find that interesting enough though, interestingly, slavery also featured there. The timeline of Bhutan was not particularly interesting either, at least to me soz Bhutan, but I wasn’t interested in spending any more time looking for other interesting dates so I’ve stopped.

…

Got an email from Lancashire Cricket Club offering me tickets for Day 3 of the India test match next summer. I’m systematically unsubscribing from ‘promotional’ emails but I don’t mind getting this sort. 

Only thing is I can’t see myself going to all the faff of getting to Manchester for the day. Takes 3 hours on the train, changing at Sheffield, and I’d probs want to stay the night which starts to make it an expedition. Won’t be watching owt at trent Bridge next summer either as they only have Ireland playing a test match there. Soz me Irish bretheren. I guess we could probably decide at the last minute for that one as it is unlikely to be sold out.

Quite a few years ago now my trefor.net email address found itself on a PR distribution list. Agreeing to that was a mistake. It was when I was actively writing posts for trefor.net and was a bit of an ego trip at the time. Found myself inundated with totally irrelevant press releases from any company that might half describe itself as involved with tech. Took years for those to stop.

It isn’t as bad nowadays but I am slowly trying to weed unwanted mails out. Since I figured out how to stop LinkedIn notifications I’ve pretty much completely stopped getting ‘social’ emails.

Lots of no shows for the CIM awards yesterday. I wrote some of their names down. Mostly blokes due to there being a relatively small number of them there to pick up an award.

The first male no show was a guy called Amir Ahmed. Didn’t catch his surname but that matters not. I’m not here to pick on him. I am just writing what I observed and in fact lining up the second no male show who was a guy called Elvis. This brought a smile to my face. Elvis, if he had showed up at all, had left the building 🙂

As we left the Methodist Central Hall there was a long queue of tourists lining up to have a picture taken with a red phone box. Bit strange I thought until someone pointed out that the Houses of Parliament were in the background. Iconic tourist photo op. I’d have done the same, maybs.

Overall a great day out. The Royal Navy was in town bedecked in their Number Ones. Annual Submarine Service remembrance weekend. Chatted to one medal laden naval type in the Silver Star pub after watching the All Blacks game. One of his gongs, with bar, was for service in Afghanistan. You wouldn’t have thought there would be anyone from the navy there let alone the submarine service. I guess they were short on personnel.

We are now chillin’ in the room, glancing out the window occasionally at Nelson atop his column. A lofty stance. THG is off on a stroll to Buck House before we get a cab to Kings Cross for the journey home. I don’t currently do strolls down the Mall, largely because of my hips giving me gyp. Getting them looked at the week after next. Need sorting.

Bells ring out across Trafalgar Square. St Martin in the Fields calling the faithful to Sunday worship. I imagine they get some tourists in. Kill a bit of time before lunch at the National Gallery. Stuff like that. Famous gaff SMITF. Biggun.

Relatively few people out on the square. The bells have stopped. Praps everyone has gone into the church. Probs. Except the souvenir sellers. Someone has to keep an eye on the stalls. Otherwise those not in church would be nicking fridge magnets left right and centre.

When we get home there is an afternoon of sport in prospect. Spurs v Villa and Man U v Chelski. Mildly interesting. Someone at breakfast was wearing a Spurs hoodie. Amazing how people come from all over the place to watch a football game. This ain’t a cheap hotel so it is an expensive hobby.

Tomorrow Lincoln travel to Chesham in the FA Cup. Unsure as to whether I’ll be able to watch that as we have a golfing ‘lunch’ lined up with no real feel as to what time lunch will finish. Maybe sleep through the football. At least THG is available for a lift afterwards.

We were due to travel to the Hexham area for golf but the club has pulled the use of buggies because of soft ground so we’ve pushed it back until springtime. Lunch replaces that trip. Not walking 36 holes of golf.

Enough!

…

Farewell to the dirty ground of London town. We shall return, soon enough. A contrast of bright lights, buzz and brazen wealth and poverty, homelessness, loneliness.

Bit daleky the pa on this train. Not quite but nearly. Muffled anyway. Lacking in crispness and clarity.  I only noticed because I’d removed my headphones at Stevenage and as the train left the station the announcement began. Didn’t really register what they were trying to say. Usual blurb. Gough. BlahblahPeterboroughblahblahseeitsayitsortit.

We pass a field of wind turbines. Power to the people. I am listening to Pink Martini Radio on Spotify. If you don’t have a crowd, there’s no parade. The everyday story of life in the year twenty twenty four. Now we pass a field of solar panels. Not sure I am a fan.

The windows on this train need a clean, honestly. It is a boring journey. Must be for me to start noticing and commenting on such things. I’ve finished the cup of tea and eaten the banana.

I’ve moved on from Pink Martini Radio to something a little more upbeat. The Tropical Trefbash playlist. Turned up the volume and got to restrain meself from dancing. The gin has arrived. It’s far too early for gin, especially on the Sabbath. Both THG and I have however taken our fair share and it is now packed away in my laptop  bag for consumption at a future date. We had a little bonus of a second serving as the steward made his way back to the crew area. May struggle to get the laptop in the bag before we get off at Lincoln! First world problems.

I just can’t get enough, I just can’t get enough. Depeche Mode. Not really my thang but was requested by a friend who is coming to trefbash. We aim to please.

Just passed what would appear to be the pleasant rural hamlet of Creeton. I looked it up on google maps. Church of St Peter, a few farms. Not much going on I daresay. If I spent all my time going up and down on the train I’d get to know all the places we passed. Norrapnin. A lot easier to just look them up. Tbh not reelly that interested. 

Just leaving Grantham. The Asda car park looks full. Good citizens of Grantham getting a few last minute supplies in for tea tonight. Foie gras, smoked salmon. Stuff like that no doubt. No sooner had Grantham disappeared into the rear view mirror we arrived in Newark and most of the carriage emptied. Platform three. 

A red coated station manager stands on the platform ready to blow her whistle. She is keeping people back from crossing the yellow line as a southbound train is just pulling in to platform two. Safety of the public is paramount.

The train now heads into the wilds beyond and to the east of the A1 Great North Road. The last leg of the journey and the point at which I bid farewell to this post, uploading whilst I still have a little signal.