where art collides philosoperontap

Out of bed early ish (ok 07.40 – not particularly early) this morning as I was scheduled to be called by BBC Lincolnshire to appear on the breakfast show. This time talking about broadband provision to families during lockdown – it’s in the news. The last time I was on it was talking about staycation and the prospects for Anne’s Vans this year. I did that lying in bed but figured I really needed to be sat up at least for this morning so came downstairs.

The beast from the east is still stroking the country with its icy fingers. Not much snowfall really. Just a light dusting every night to keep things fresh. It was minus 4 (feels like minus 7) this morning. Musst take a photo of the thermometer in the greenhouse. The online monitoring has a bug so doesn’t go below zero. This is fixable but needs Tom Bird to dive into it as it is his code. It’s a question of time time time innit. Don’t think the data is lost so should be fine.

I quite like the fact that the video streaming and temperature monitoring continues whether anyone is looking or not. Not many people do look. Really they only go there when I promote it – a new post for example, perhaps with a link from Facebook. I’m ok with this, for now. Good art is not good just because lots of people look at it. Interesting to consider that the video streaming moments really are just moments in time. They are being recorded but only for a couple of weeks or so and then discarded and the recordings are not available to the public anyway. I did a timelapse of last year’s season if anyone wants to see it. It’s in the footer https://www.trefsgreenhouse.com/

A day of getting some admin done ahead of me.

PS managed to name drop Beyond The Woods in my BBC piece 🙂

I have been cultivating a beard of sorts, plus flowing locks. Just breaking free from a lifetime of haircut conformity. Trying to move on from the clean cut image to something with a bit more of an edge. Fits well with my taste in shirts and jackets , running festivals and vintage campervan rental businesses. Someone who looks the laid back hippy part but can speak the business lingo 😉 I was quite pleased this time last year when walking on Santa Cruz pier when a guy walked up to me, shook my hand firmly and says “nice threads man, nice threads”. I was wearing one of my floral linen jackets.

Beards are clearly well suited to the locked down life. Where all around is an icy wasteland they are essential for survival. Speaking of icy wastelands popped into the allotments just now. Nobody there. A sunny and therefore quite pleasant day but you could sense that the place at night with the cold wind blowing would be somewhere you would not want to dwell.

The shed is the log cabin that shelters me from the rigours of the beast from the East. A surreal place really. Picture the explorer in the frozen wilderness of the North crossing a ridge to look down on a valley below and he sees a cabin with smoke coming out of the chimney. An unexpected but welcome sight in a place that he thought was being explored by man for the first time.

It takes him a while to get down to the cabin but as he approaches he sees a brightly lit interior with a guy sat at a desk typing away. They are both surprised by the encounter but he is welcomed in and offered a warming tipple. There is no food in the cabin as the kitchen is in the house 30m away. After spending some time chatting the explorer thanks his host and sets off back on his journey. He has maps to prepare, unexplored territories to survey and beaver hides to gather.

That evening after the sun has gone down he huddles close up to his campfire, heats up some of his remaining supplies and prepares for an uncomfortable night ahead of him. The next morning he has gone. His footsteps are gradually obscured by fresh snowfall and he plays no further part in this story.

On the covid front I’m guessing we might hit the initial target for inoculations by the end of today. Probs won’t hear about it until tomorrow. The numbers seem to get released at roughly the time the daily covid update is presented at number ten, or wherever it is. Matt Hancock seems to find it convenient to use his downstairs loo for this sort of thing. At least that’s what it looks like sometimes. Probs the only place he can get a bit of peace and quiet for his press briefings.

The sun is now past its zenith. The land outside is beginning the cooling process in preparation for a night of killing. Any weakened being caught out in the open is fair game. Let is not be you my friends. My series of meetings are over for the day. Time to unwind.

Tomorrow is an early start for me. 8am. Did you know that such a time existed? I don’t buy the “I spent thirty years setting into the office for a 7.30 am start” stance. Take control of your life or others will control it for you. Playing some 70s rock anthems in the shed. Spotify playlist. Also we are celebrating tonight. It’s a private thing. Quiet celebration about something that has made us happy. Might tell you one day.

There comes a certain point in the day where I switch the shed into evening mode.The mood lighting and the outside lights (those explorers still need to be able to find me) come on together with the Cold Beer sign (good investment). Today I have the BBC news on with subtitles. I want to listen to music not news. It is never good news although they do sometimes try and finish with a short feelgood item. It’s as if they know that they have just spent half an hour telling you stuff that is likely to make you miserable and feel guilty about it.

Life continues. We do appear to be over the worst of it. Infection rates dropping, numbers in hospital going down and most importantly mortality rates headed in the right direction. Each day we look at the graphs and try to extrapolate the data to see the point at which we regain our freedom.

Freedom means being able to stand at the bar. Standing at the bar is by no means the be all and end all but reaching that point must mean that restrictions are finally over. In the meantime Transport Minister Grant Shapps has apparently advised against booking any holidays yet, be it overseas or in the UK. The country is full of tension, like a drawn bow waiting to be let go.

Although it is still too early to tell I’d say the drop off in the curve is steeper than the first time around.

…

Sat on an industry webinar/online meeting. About Microsoft Teams fwiw. Just have it running in the background. Some of these shindigs are pretty useful. This one has 150 attendees right now which is quite a high number. A few people aren’t on mute and so we have had the occasional interrupt – phone ringing or simlar. In the meantime I’m scribbling this.

The concept of scribbling on a computer doesn’t quite sound right. However it is essentially the same. I realise that scribbling brings with it the notion of illegibility or untidiness. Certainly the case with me. So doing it on a computer at least allows people to understand what I’m writing. Actually it allows me to understand what I’m writing. 

My handwriting was bad before the word processor came along. Having used a computer of some sort for pretty much all my adult life (ok ok I still haven’t really grown up) I can no longer do what used to be termed as joined up writing. If I want people to understand what I’ve written I have to write it down in block capitals and it takes me ages.

To take this conversation further I’ve been pondering getting back into the letter writing game. It is all too easy to send an email or IM. Letters are far more valuable and personal. The problem is that the ultimate letter needs to be handwritten but in my case it would take too long to write. My thinking is that the compromise is to type the letter, print it off and sign it. This is what I will probs do but it doesn’t sit perfectly in my thinking. 

The next decision is who to write to. It would be nice to think that sending out letters would result in replies and perhaps an ongoing correspondence. My natural inclination is also to post copies of the letters on philosopherontap as I don’t like not using anything I write. Even drafts are important. Think if we had copies of all 200 or so drafts of Dylan Thomas’ poem “Do not go gentle unto this good night”. What an insight that would provide into Dylan Thomas’ creative process. I realise that some artists only want you to be able to see the end result that they are happy with. 

The notion of publishing what is essentially private correspondence with specific individuals also doesn’t feel totally right but it is still part of one’s oeuvre, if I can put it like that. Historically such material would only come to light after the death of one of the correspondents. Maybe that’s fine. No harm in leaving a bit of your legacy to surface sometime after you are long gone. After all we love it when a long lost play or perhaps a recording session comes to light after the creator has died.

There is also the issue of whether anyone gives a toss. This is a mental hurdle you have to overcome if you create things. When I first decided I was interested in poetry I looked around online to see what was going on in that space. Perhaps somewhere I might publish my own stuff. I joined the poetry society and entered one of their regular competitions. My offering got nowhere and the winner when announced clearly fitted in with what the poetry establishment considered to be good poetry. It felt as if there had to be structure and meaning.

I decided that the poetry society was not where it was at for me, if for nothing else how could they really spot relevant and good stuff when the had thousands or even tens of thousands of entries for each competition (I can’t remember the exact number). I looked elsewhere and found some enthusiast sites with stuff that in my mind was total crap. It wasn’t really fair of me to say that as what makes good poetry is totally in the mind of the individual.

Anyway that was probably one of the drivers in starting my own site. It isn’t really a poetry site although it does contain poetry. The point is the content is not really for anyone else but me. It would be nice to think that others liked what I wrote but that is a bonus. I buy other people’s poetry books but rarely dwell on them or read them cover to cover. Poetry is really for the poet. Smythinking. I rarely write poetry nowadays but never say never. 

This lockdown 2 series is a sort of record of lockdown but also just somewhere to park stuff written at the time. Ideally it is much more than a list of things wot i did during lockdown. You be the judge 🙂

I lament the passing of the label on the trunk. Evocative of journeys to far flung places. Reality is that you had to be very rich to be able to afford a label on a trunk. The trunk in itself would have been an expensive piece of kit travelling alongside passengers in first class cabins on famous liners and trains. 

I’m thinking Cairo, the Pyramids, Beirut, other exotic locations.

The modern equivalent is airline travel with bland nonentity luggage tracing labels that you wouldn’t want to have on display – regardless of cabin class. I do recommend flying long haul first though together with arranging a limo pickup at the destination. Saves a lot of time and hassle.

The other similar but different entity is the fridge magnet but this does not carry quite the same romance as the label. During the days of luggage labels the travellers with them on their trunks wouldn’t even have known where their fridges were. I have a collection of fridge magnets.

If it’s Monday it must be snowday. There’s no business like snowbusiness. Sat in the shed gazing out at the relaxing sight of snowfall, the flakes dancing around in what must be a gentle breeze. Inside it is quiet.

I must say it is about time we got some snow. Other parts of the country have been hit with it over the last few weeks but not us. I don’t think it is going to be megadeep but at least everywhere is white.

John has joined me and is sitting at the other desk sporting his headphones doing stuff. We are at peace. Outside the temperature and covid rates continue to drop.

I ventured into the allotments. Nobody around which comes as no surprise. There is just a big pile of scrub where ours used to be. It wasn’t a good plot. Shallow topsoil and overhung by trees. The other week I noticed three blokes in hi viz jackets looking at it. I imagine they were from the council discussing what to do about the scrub. Best thing would be to burn it all really. The potash would be good for the soil. Mind you there could be the odd shopping trolley under that lot. I know not. Also could be hedge hogs.

Had a productive enough day. I try not to do too much 😉

The skies are grey again. I noted that around lunchtime they had turned blue. Although I like blue skies (get my thinking?) I also like the grey where the clouds are laden with snow (get my drift? 🙂 ) I don’t really mind the skies that are filled with rainclouds. What I don’t like is just interminable cloud cover without it being accompanied by associated weather which is all too often a feature of the Uniteed Kingdome at this time of year.

It is observed that in the newspapers today Lincoln is positioned 302nd out of 380 in the rankings of worst places for covid with 137 cases per 100,000 population. I am not unhappy with this though my thoughts do go out to those worse off obvs. Will we ever get to zero? At what number or combination of infection rate and vaccine rollout numbers will it be deemed safe to stand again at the bar of the Morning Star. How does one work that one out. We are told that here in the UK we have some fiendishly clever boffins so someone must have a clue.

The lights are on in the kitchen. Signs of life. Anne is being wonderfully productive during this locked down state. She likes to get out and do stuff with friends but as you know this is denied to all of us so some of her creative output and energy is going into cooking. I am fortunate in having some lovely healthy salads available at lunchtimes. I am lucky to have her 🙂 xxx

Now starting to get dark out. The garden is very bright with its covering of snow. Now playing Abbey Road…

Storm Darcy is en route. Unsure whether Darcy is a he or a she. There is a convention. Let us assume the latter as the name tends to be given to girls these days. So Darcy is dancing towards us with the promise of snow and has been labelled the new Beast From The East. Doesn’t sound right for a Darcy does it? There must be a more beast like name they could have given her. Can’t immediately think of one. Deville maybe as in Cruella Deville but that was a surname. Perhaps this was the problem facing the gang at the Met Office when considering their options. I’m not sure they should get hung up about the first name last name differentiation. Doesn’t seem to matter these days.

As storm Darcy rolls up her cloudy sleeves and prepares to hammer us with what will inevitably turn out to be a light dusting of snow I have just finished breakfast and getting my brain around going for a walk. My promenading companions are not all up yet so there is time. Promenading might also be giving you the wrong impression. I will be togged up in gear appropriate to the Arctic conditions in prospect. My down filled parka has served me well and is guaranteed to maintain comfort levels in sub zero temperatures. I will need to wear thick socks, obvs and my fleece lined leather gloves that only get a few outings a year as they are overkill most of the time. 

So feel free to replace the word promenading with expedition. That replaces a verb with a noun which you may consider to be slightly unusual but it works. I did fleetingly think of using the word expeditioning instead but it doesn’t feel right.

Bringing me a coffee just now Anne informed me that she thinks she saw a snowflake fall. Looking out of the window I see no companions that might give me grounds for declaring the arrival of Darcy. It must have been the advance party. A snow scout. It’s purpose was to announce to the world that they should be battening down their hatches and preparing for the arrival of its other snowflake pals. 

I don’t think that’s what storms do. You are meant to be caught by surprise, out in the open with no shelter in sight. With visibility worsening this could well be a problem. You quicken your pace but are soon lost. You trip over a root and fall roughly. Unable to get up you are soon covered in a thick blanket of snow. That’s it I’m afraid. Gonner. One of  Storm Darcy’s first casualties whose destiny is to be a small part of a meteorological statistic. With it your last, perhaps only, claim to fame with a 5 second appearance on the local TV news where an old photograph does you no justice but was the only one they were able to find. Your story ends.

Hope this is not you. Take care now 🙂

Good morning Saturday. You have fed me well and your Marcus Wareing inspired rosti potatoes were the best yet. Your cup of tea is being enjoyed and I will shortly be indulging in a hot shower before setting off for the day proper. This will involve a journey to the end of the world as I know it, or as described by some, the shed at the bottom of the garden. There is nothing beyond the tall garden fence. An unknown wilderness where voices are occasionally to be heard but never seen.

I foresee a mixed day ahead with a jobs list combining with rugby watching and poultry preparation. Tonight’s repast will be based around a peri peri chicken. It is a little known fact that farmers, when scattering the daily seedcorn in the farmyard will examine the pecking hens and quietly register which ones will be destined for a sunday roast with all the trimmings, which for chicken curry, flavour of your choosing, and which will be either barbecued or periperi’d. Believe it. A chicken, of all the creatures roaming this wonderful planet, is most likely to have its destiny preordained by the great god Giles who provides all poultry sustenance.

My jobs list today takes me to all corners of the known world. In the TV room I shall be erecting a framework for family photos and in Trefsgreenhouse.com you will be able to watch live action of me touching up the sealant around the garden coffee table. Erecting a framework is a fairly dramatic way of describing putting up a baton that will be used to attach photo frames with velcro.

In the meantime the cricket from Chennai is giving no cause for concern. Just like the British weather this can change at a moment’s notice but for now all is well. The weather at home is indeed changing. Not as I speak nor so quickly that we are constantly refreshing the weather forecast app to observe the change. Not in the same way that we would check for US Election updates. It is enough for the moment to look out of the window, perhaps glancing to the horizon in search of lighter skies, or dark clouds approaching.

As I now publish this the news from the subcontinent is that we are 555 for 8 at the close with Root having knocked 218. A satisfactory ending to the day.

Just had a very pleasant chat with one of our van hirers discussing options on where to go in May. This is something I really like to do. Our customers are pretty much always nice people. I think the nature of the game is such that the people who want to hire a vintage VW campervan are a happy go lucky friendly bunch who take life as it comes and have a positive attitude.

This particular customer was based in Hull and trying to figure out the best place to go for his week. I think we concluded that moving around every night did not make for the most relaxing holiday if you were going to spend half of it driving. We quite often stay in one spot for 2 or 3 nights and spend our time exploring the area (and pubs).

I am now feeling quite good about things. This year with the government telling people not to bother with overseas holidays and to focus on staying in the UK we have seen a big rise in preseason bookings and interest. It helped getting some serious coverage on various BBC outlets. It began with an article on staycation on the BBC News website and was quickly followed by great coverage on BBC Look North prime time news and the BBC Radio Lincolnshire breakfast show on the same subject.

This year we have upped our game with the booking system and now use one that lets people choose their dates and book without having to call us. This makes life a lot easier for everyone and to be quite frank about it it is great seeing bookings pop into our email inbox without us having to do anything 🙂

Still happy to take calls and emails though if folk have questions. We are still a couple of months away from the start of the season which this year we are hoping will also coincide with the end of lockdown and the opening up of the countryside. In the meantime snow is forecast for Lincoln. Stay safe everyone.

Now watching Italy v France. It’s on ITV. Never been a big fan of the ITV commentary. This game is followed by England v the Auld Enemy, also on ITV. Fortunately the main event which is Wales v Oireland is on the Beeb tomorrow. The Beeb has never been able to recreate the heady heights of Bill McLaren but they aren’t bad, especially if Jonathan Davies is on.

Drilled a few holes in plant pots. The ones that had started to look like firebuckets. The drilling had the desired effect. The plants will be happier for it. As I finished I heard some loud revving from the allotments behind and popped out through the back gate to satisfy my curiosity. I got there just as the big red long wheelbase transit escaped from a mud bath leaving deep ruts behind. I’m talking maybe a foot deep. Some other chap was stood there with spade in hand having obviously just been to the rescue. Rather him than me. I’d have got dirty. The chap with the spade was geared for the weather and the allotment mud. Good job they have spades on allotments innit.

It is now chucking it down again and I am totally stranded in the shed. I could be here for weeks were it not for the fact that I have a coat and the house is only 25 m away. And an umbrella fwiw. 2 brollies actually. It’s a High Availability umbrella strategy. The other thing about not being here weeks is that I don’t have enough supplies to last that long. Plus we are having piri piri chichen later, as you know. The supplies I refer to are liquid. There is only so much diet coke you can drink.

Getting up to make the tea in the morning might not be the same if we lived in a log cabin in Alaska especially during the long dark winters. I’m not even aware that people who live in such places drink tea. They are more likely to brew coffee in a pot on the range. Random first paragraph.

It is 14.34 and I think I have finished work for the week. This isn’t entirely true because I have more to do but I am waiting on another’s input and if the goods are indeed delivered I may have to warm up the valves on my computing device and do something over the weekend.

The weekend ahead has a lot of activity planned so not totes sure where I’ll fit in some work but we shall see. I say activity. Some of it involves sitting in front of a big screen in the shed watching rugby football.  It is that time of year. Again. 6 nations. Yay.

In the meantime John and I have been to the market that is Waitrose to stock up on a few essentials for the weekend. Some gruyere, fever tree light, that sort of thing. They didn’t have any of the small cans of fever tree left so had to buy the bottles. Ah well.

It’s a lovely springish day out. Early movement from expected flora – snow drops. We all know it will end in teardrops. Snow is forecast for Sunday. Spring, although it is still a way off, is without question the best time of year. The smell of spring is like no other. I have the shed doors slightly ajar.

Although during lockdown 2 this is more of a diary and indeed I’ve used this site for that purpose frequently in the past, the original intent with philosopherontap was as a focal point for creativity. I’m not sure how lockdown affects creativity. I find that having a totally clear mind is essential and lockdown is not conducive to this. 

With a mind cleared of impediment things happen. Words come out as if plucked from nowhere. Picture looking ahead into the space in front of you and seeing words suddenly appear. Ping! They not only appear but when you read them you think “wow, where did they come from?”

…

Just finished my aerobics class. First time I’ve done it the whole way through. I do it stood in front of the telly with the carpet rolled back. You know, just in front of the sofa 🙂 It’s just the right amount of space. I’m crap at timing the steps but the more I do it the more used to that I will become. It’s a lot easier to find 20 mins out of an afternoon than to go for a long walk even though that too is necessary really.

A pot of tea has miraculously arrived in the shed. Thanks to the miracle of love 😉 Have you ever seen a tea tray just appear on the desk in front of you? What great power love brings. There is a song in there somewhere. Loud music already fills the shed. Music from my youth prevails. My kids also listen to it. Some of it.

Looking out from the shed the back garden is bathed in sunlight. A shudder of relaxation just ran through my shoulders. My eyes gently close…

The house is quiet although I can hear Anne busying herself somewhere. She is always doing something. Outside I note that not all of the wood pigeons have been eaten by our local population of peregrine falcons. I can hear their irritating whoop. Who on earth designed that whoop. Distinctive OK but a most annoying birdcall.

Struggling to get the day going in the shed. Have stuck the Classic FM Hall of Fame on Spotify to try and ease me into it. It’s probably on days like this that it would be handy to be in an office and have a chat with the team, about anything really. Not that much would get done. Just coffee consumed. 

Visits to the office are a thing of the past really. Our office is in Belgium. For me to be there at 9am I have to set off at lunchtime the day before. It’s essentially a 3 hour journey to London, a two hour wait in the Eurostar lounge and then a 3 hour leg to the Hilton Garden Inn in Brussels. A 1pm setoff would see me at the hotel bar for 10pm. Ish. I suspect I used to prefer to get in earlier than that to have dinner somewhere. The food on Eurostar isn’t worth the effort, even in Business Class. The wait time does reduce if you pay for it but the flexible business class ticket is £250 each way, maybe a hundred quid more than the semi flex. What it really buys you is 5 minutes through check in versus perhaps 45 minutes or more. Also access to the lounge & booze although if you travel often enough you get that anyway with Carte Blanche. 

Needless to say I no longer have Carte Blanche. I am also now only Silver with BA and can see a further slide to Bronze which means no lounge access. I suspect that with the low frequency of travel in future I’ll just pay to go business class anyway. The most important added benefits are advanced seat reservation, lounge access and priority boarding. If you can get that using status as opposed to paying for business class then that is all you need. 

On a plane trip there is always a clash between the lounge access and advanced seat reservation even when travelling business class. If you don’t get on early then the bastards sat further back who get on before you fill up the overhead locker space. The last thing you want is to have to check your carry on into the hold as it defeats the object of only taking carry on luggage.

The situation is different when travelling long haul. Such journeys require business class travel as a minimum and there is generally no issue with locker space. It is then all about how much you want to get the boarding process out of the way and get settled into your seat for the flight. You want to leave time for the pre flight glass of champagne.

If travelling in first on a long haul flight this is probably only worth it if you are flying out of LHR T5 when you can avail yourself of the benefits of the Concorde Lounge and then you need to think about getting to the airport at least 3 hours before the fight is due to take off. The Concorde Lounge is the pinnacle of airport lounges with full service restaurant and cocktail bar (actually similar to Virgin Clubhouse as I recall but it’s decades since I went to one of those). You can also book an Elemis massage.

How you use the Concorde Lounge is going to depend on time of travel. The breakfasts are good but at that time of day you don’t really want to hit the bar. If it is an afternoon flight then make it a light lunch and a couple of cocktails so as not to spoil your appetite on the long flight ahead.

If it isn’t out of LHR then the added cost of the first class cabin needs to be weighed against the improved bed. That’s really the difference. The food and drink in first might be better than business class but really none of it is much cop and it’s down to how much you value having a decent bed and duvet plus faster disembarkation at your destination. 

Even then the faster arrivals bit is only going to make much difference either if you pay for an expedited service where available or if in the USA you have Global Entry status which makes a massive difference and is very much worth having. The benefits of Global Entry are somewhat negated if you are travelling with someone who doesn’t have it.

Anyway on with the day. It’s meetings meetings meetings all afternoon innit.

In an ideal world it rains overnight and the days are fine. Last night it snowed but it will be gone by mid morning. That rule is only supposed to work for rain. The one “side benefit” if we term it as such is that Anne got up in the night and noticed a fox crossing the back garden. It was really only visible because of the white backdrop. I was able to scroll through the cctv recording and see it from two different camera angles. It’s one of the side benefits of having cctv. The other is knowing when Anne is back from the shops as I can see whether her car is on the drive or not 🙂 

It would appear that ours is not an ideal world. Now I sit here watching the snow melt…

…

This afternoon it is a classic miserable drizzly British February day. It isn’t cold enough for the snow to have stayed and is inconveniently slushy underfoot. I popped out to get Jezzer a birthday card for tomorrow. A small ray of sunshine on an otherwise dingy day.

Tonight we are watching the mighty Imps play Hull in a cup match. We are the in form outfit right now, as the pundits would say. We brought four players in during the January transfer window. The board supports the gaffer when he is on a roll. 

A cup of tea has magically appeared on my desk. Such moments are welcome interruptions to a dull telecoms treadmill day. I say treadmill. That isn’t totally fair or accurate. I have intensive bursts of productivity where I apply nearly 40 years of work experience to sorting out difficult issues in a short space of time. During these times I am motivated and really earn my crust. Then I’ll throttle back for a bit and write this stuff.

…

It is dark out and the scary monsters have been let loose in the forest beyond the bottom of the garden. I will pull the shutters across and lock and bolt the door. There is plenty of fuel for the fire to last the evening and I do not need to be abroad. We are having spag bol later and Pink Martini are now playing…

Come on in the water is lovely. Sometimes it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether that first sentence is relevant to anything else in the post. Did it grab your attention and make you want to read more? Maybe yes maybe no. There’s no real logic to anything here. Maybe the water is nice. Maybe it’s a metaphor. I don’t know.

The death trend is down. The level of covid infections is down. A long stretch of covid ridden road lies ahead before we can really get excited about anything. No sign of Anne and I being inoculated yet. We are not old enough which I suppose is a good thing 🙂

Funeral online today for a friend who lost the race. For him and his family trends matter not. We are in the middle of a war. At the beginning of a war when someone loses their life everybody mourns. Then death touches everyone and we grow numb to it. I don’t think we are at that stage yet and still feel it when someone we know and love is taken. The bombs however are falling closer. We continue to sleep in the shelter and wear our gas masks during air raids.

Listening to some loud tunes in the shed whilst watching the covid news conference with subtitles. I prefer the music to a politician’s words. In other wars people would have huddled around the wireless waiting for our leaders’ pronunciations. It’s no different today really.

We subject ourselves to near 24 x 7 news updates and it isn’t often anything new is disseminated at these gigs. At least we have the time when we are asleep to ourselves. Trying to sleep 🙂 Trying not to wake up in the night. Lying there thinking.

There have been a number of historical events in recent years where we have turned to the news for reguar updates. Sometimes it’s been a bit of a nervous follow. Like when the orangudon was kicking up his electoral storm. I’m sure I would have woken up in the night during the US elections and picked up my phone just to check the score. Worked out in the end. So far.

Meanwhile life goes on.

The Guernsey self-isolation club. A play on “The Guernsey Literary Society and Potato Peel Pie Club” (or whatever it was called) but brought up to date and totally different. The outbreak of covid cases in Guernsey is apparently the result of a dance festival held on the island. My mind thinks sweaty packed dance floors aka nightclubs of old. Why would they have such a festival in these dangerous times. Note I say nightclubs of old because it has been decades since I’ve been to a night club. They might still be like that, or at least up until recent legally permissible times. I might be totally wrong and the Guernsey Dance Festival was nothing like my description. Probs.

Hilton Valentine was his real name. I just looked it up as I figured it just have been a stage name. Why would you want a stage name when your real name is Hilton Valentine? I’d want to use my own name as well. Are the days of stage names over? Dunno. I hadn’t heard of Hilton Valentine before he died but I had heard his music.

In other sad news a friend of mine Tom Avern died. I only just found out. He had suffered from cancer for some time, been through many phases of treatment and knew that there was nothing that could be done. I only found out because the notice of his funeral popped up in my timeline. He was Australian and had contributed to philosopherontap under the pseudonym tavernau. 

http://www.philosopherontap.com/author/tavernau/

Shaken out of my reverie just now as The Archers theme tune polluted the airwaves and reached the front room from the kitchen. This had the instant result of me jumping up with a jolt to switch it off. At the same time I could see that the gammon had just come to its first boil and needed the water replacing (got to get rid of that scum) so that is now sorted.

Today is a day for making progress with jobs. We are optimistic that the photos may get put back up on the wall in the library having discussed and agreed on a way to do it that doesn’t involve gluing onto a batten. Velcro is the answer. Using velcro means we (I) can screw the baton to the wall and completely cover it up with picture frames. The gluing option meant needing a bit of baton sticking out at the end. Everyone is now happy. Well she will be when the job finally gets done 🙂

If that goes well the next job will be to grout the tiles on Anne’s little outdoor table. This is the longest outstanding job on my list and as such it almost seems a pity to get it done. The table won’t get used before spring but that will be here before we know it.

This pm we are off for walk – down to the new bypass, along to where you branch on a footpath to the quarry near the Carlton Estate and then home. Never been to that quarry and I’ve lived in Lincoln since 1984!

Finally it’s Liverpeul on the telly before roast gammon dinner. That’s the day ahead.

Ciao amigos.

…

Good walk with Anne and John. They are faster than me so had to occasionally stop for me to catch up. We walked down to the bypass and around the Greetwell Hollow quarry and home. The OS map wasn’t quite right as they are building more houses on part of the route I had in mind and have put heras fencing across the track. Did 3.81 miles and was quite stiff when I got home. Not doing enough walking but trying to sort that out.

Need to properly explore Greetwell Hollow. It is a SSSI and now run by the Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust. Looks like much of the quarry is inaccessible but it would make a great place to take the Defender for a bit of offroading. Ain’t gonna happen. On the way home I noticed that the Calor gas depot behind Tesco had closed permanently. Don’t know the whole story but a shame if this is a covid effect.

Now watching the ‘Peul play the Hammers with John in the shed. Still light at 16.42.

Had a shower after the walk and washed my hair. It’s a strange experience washing hair that can no longer be considered “short”. You find yourself lathering hair in your hand. Some of you will probs be thinking wosseeonabout? You will of course be right.

Oddly the washing the hair bit made me think about who I am. Or who I think I am or want to be. Have you ever really looked at yourself in the mirror and asked that question? What do you see? The mirror doesn’t lie.

Sat here after a good breakfast waiting for the tea to brew and contemplating whether to have a shave. It’s a lockdown working from home problem. Doesn’t matter whether you have a shave or not, unless you are particularly bothered about looking good on video conference calls. As I am cultivating my hippy look again aka lockdown one I do occasionally need to maintain a certain definition between chin and cheek, if you get my drift.

Outside the rain is pelting down and Anne has therefore taken her car to go hunter gathering. It’s wet enough in those hedgerows and on the forest floor without having to ride home on her bicycle. Early in the morning is a good time to go out looking for food as the crowds have not yet appeared and the best produce lies yet ungathered. Ideal in these covid ridden times. No having to maneuver around ignorant people who ignore the clearly marked one way paths around the forest.

I have half an hour or so before our regular Saturday morning festival meeting and so there is no rush. I’ve even tidied up the kitchen after breakfast. 

…

Blustery walk to the shed this morning as you can imagine. Felt as if I was at the coast, perhaps preparing to go to sea instead of carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a satsuma to the bottom of the garden. I do miss the coast. Most of my adult life has been  firmly inland in Lincoln but my childhood was spent on a coast somewhere, be it Wales or the Isle of Man. Rugged, interesting coastline with fishing boats and dirty British coasters and quinquiremes of Nineveh or boats and places to that effect. Ahoy there landlubber. I’m not sure whether I’ve ever seen a quinquireme and am not aware of having been to Nineveh although places do change names so I might have.

It is a Saturday. Not sure how much difference that makes really. John and I are planning to watch the Imps play Doncaster this pm. That is a traditional Saturday afternoon pastime. When I were a lad my dad and I would settle in front of Grandstand on the telly to watch an afternoon of sport. Wasn’t just footy. If I remember right it was whatever was doing down that weekend. Different times. Dad and I used to go out and play golf but don’t remember that being on Saturdays.

Just chatting with dad now, ensconced on the GrandPad in his bijou room in Ty Llandaff in Cardiff. Luxury care facility or words to that effect. Just around the corner from Sue’s although that’s not much use to man nor daughter during lockdown. Might as well be an 8 hour flight apart instead of an 8 minute walk. He is very close to the Romily and Robin Hood pubs. Handy in less pestilent times.

I’ll be nipping out to get some fresh air myself in a bit. I’ve finished the espalier work. And fixed the bathroom scales.

Walked past Tesco with half a mind to nip in to buy some shaving gel. Mahoosive queue outside at around 1.30pm. Bloody fierce cold out there as well so the idea was abandoned. What on earth makes people decide to go to Tesco on a Saturday afternoon (apart from to buy shaving gel obvs). It will be heaving with people all desperate to win a Darwin Award and therefore not somewhere I would want to be. I remain gel-less but Charles Darwin managed without it so I’m sure I’ll survive.

When I unofficially retired I decided I was far too young to do this at the age of 52 and was getting a bit bored so I gradually unretired. Now I find myself in the situation where sometimes there isn’t enough time in the day and I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about a job I haven’t done or a problem I need to sort. Where is the middle ground? I wouldn’t do it if there weren’t significantly more highs than lows. I also tend to do it on my own terms which is fine.

The BBC TV Radio and news website has worked wonders for our profile with Anne’s Vans. We have had orders and lots of telephone enquiries. Our new inbound number has worked wonders with my telephone answering performance. I normally answer my mobile by saying “yo” or simlar. I assume that if someone is ringing my mobile number they know it is me at the other end of the phone. Anne’s Vans is different. They are ringing a company number – 01522 438888 – give it a try. So I answer the phone by saying “Hi there Anne’s Vans here. Tref speaking. Did you see me on the telly?” No not that last bit really. I was joshing.

Listening to The Girl From Ipanema Stan Getz & Joao Gilberto. Work is done. Didn’t get it all finished but will do some pottering over the weekend. Ipanema is a particular fave. I used to play it on the geetar. Many years ago I used to do the occasional Friday night in the Morning Star with Bill Jones on the piano. Bill was the kid really. I was just the bit player in the show. We used to have a good time though and had a regular following. Long time ago now. We used to live 76 paces from the pub.

The EU AstraZeneca vaccine supply row rolls on. I’m keeping quiet as I haven’t had my jab yet. 

One of the boys has mentioned the LeMans rugby tour we did a long time ago. He had found a photo online. I recall that tour as the one where I broke off the family holiday in paris to go to and therefore arrived by train fresh and raring to go whereas everyone else got no sleep on the overnight trip. It was also the tour where “someone” emptied Pete Calveley and Alex Murphy’s in room drinks fridge and they got stung with a £200 bill. The money eventually miraculously appeared just before we left the hotel. Nobody knows where from 😉

After that tour I went back to Paris to rejoin the family. We had a nice few days staying with friends where I was introduced to Chateau Talbot and the music of Jacques Brell (totally different to the rugby tour culture). En route home we rocked up at CDG an hour before our flight to Manchester. There was a huge queue (I had no frequent flyer status in those days although the flights were free as I’d used air miles) and by the time we got to the front they said that the flight was over booked and we would have to catch the next one 4 hours later. To cut a long story short we ended up with £200 cash compensation and a voucher for food (we spend £50 on pizzas and OJ) which was a result considering the flights had been free in the first place and the lunch occupied most of the time waiting for the next flight.

BA handed over the cash in used tenners after we landed. I recall there being an announcement saying “would Mr Davies please make himself known to the BA member of staff upon arrival”. Tom, who was probably 4 or 5 at the time went with the kind person to the office to pick up the loot saying “open the box, take the money” and “what do points mean? Points mean prizes”

Now listening to Elbow – One Day Like This. I only discovered Elbow last year (I know I know). It’s one of my party pieces for the pre Beyond The woods pre festival private party (staff/volunteers/invitation only – you have to know someone but it is an unique and seriously craic). Has to be in a slightly different key but it is easy to play. If you want to volunteer at the Festival this summer drop me a line. See what we have available. Currently the planning is for the gig to happen but we aren’t at crunch time yet.

You sit there clicking away, elbows jabbing anything or anyone that strays near. You know who you are, la tricoteuse.

…

Once more unto the rain dear friends, once more

Or leave the fridge empty and bare of food

In lockdown there’s nothing so becomes a man

As modest self isolation and humility

But when the pangs of hunger rumble in our gut

Then imitate the action of the hunter

Stiffen the resolve, summon up the strength

And focus on what is missing on the shelf

Which in this case is sausage and bacon

And a ribeye steak for Saturday’s dejeuner

I looked at the rest of the speech and of course it is mostly aimed at getting people to fight other people. Whilst this is open to parody during the current covid shitshow I don’t particularly think is appropriate for a family oriented site. Even though I would appear to be starting to use the word shitshow with increasing regularity. It complements brexshit. In fact maybe I could merge the two and say brexshit shitshow. No that is not necessary. Keep it short.

There is no mention of wine in that text but I sense it would be an appropriate addition as an accompaniment to steak. I shall also prepare a suitable salad.

Note also the increasing use of French in these posts. This is partly because I see myself as an internationalist 😉 I also naturally assume that the readers of this stuff are sophisticates who take the words in their stride, perhaps subliminally noting the playful use of the language. Who nose? Que?

There are two main bits of lockdown news today. Firstly Bojo has put on his metaphoric kilt and flown to Scotland to make the Scots think he really cares about them, no doubt crying ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’ (no wait!). This follows a sustained series of surveys  North of The Border that suggest that not only do people there not like him but they increasingly don’t want anything to do with him. Being an attention seeker he has flown up under the apprehension that all he has to do is utter a few flowery sentences and all will be well. 

The biggest question really is whether Bojo wears anything under the kilt. Knowing his past lothario form I’d guess not. Call it a quickie release mechanism. Presumably his choice of tartan would be based on finding some remote Scottish ancestor. All of a sudden.

The other lockdown stir is the row between AstraZeneca and the EU over vaccine supplies. Apaz the yields from AZs EU based factories is not as high as planned and so the company is unable to ship as many vaccines as the EU has ordered. The EU says AZ are contractually bound to ship them the stuff and should let them have some of the UK’s supply. AZ say they aren’t. We aren’t being given enough information to pass judgment here. 

It has been observed that the EU were apparently three months behind the UK in placing an order whilst they haggled over the price and that the UK has invested £12Bn in vaccine research compared with the EUs 2.7Bn Euros (100M per country). I’m staying out of it.