where art collides philosoperontap

The milkman came at 4.07 this morning. Didn’t hear him. Land of nod. I assume he wears thermal underwear at this time of year. It’s v cold out. At least it keeps the milk 🥛 at the right temperature. Woke momentarily at five ey em and pondered getting up but the next thing I knew it was six thirty and THG had volunteered it was her turn to make the tea. Result!

Gonna have some more axe action after breakfast. Logs and kindling. Fire was a roaring success last night. At least it is dry. No snow forecast.

Have also decided to up the pace of Facebook posting for Anne’s Vans. I did one yesterday and got a lot of reaction including from  an Italian woman we met at a B&B in Cape Cod. Neglected vans social media last year but this year will make up for that methinks. It doesn’t really take much time. Just needs me to slot it in.

PS

Just flicking through my Hilton app and seem to have a hotel booking in London on 16th and 17th Feb. However I have no idea what for. If anyone has a clue I’d be grateful otherwise I’ll cancel.

…

Just back from a swim. THG and I each had a lane to ourselves which is good. Looks like Wednesday pm could be a good time to go. Hit the steam room afterwards and I asked THG if I’d told her my story about the nude blondes in the steam room. Many times she said. Then a voice piped up from an ethereal figure just about visible through the steam. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it”. So I told it.

Many years ago I used th be a regular visitor to the European Space Agency Tech Centre in Nordwijk in the Netherlands. We used to stay in a very nice five star hotel on the sea front. One of the characteristics of hotels in Nordwijk was the all naked spa suites.

A pal of mine stayed there with his wife once when there was a beautician’s conference going on in the hotel. The place was full of young attractive women. This friend was sat next to his wife on a  lounger around the pool and asked her if she fancied a stint in the steam room. She declined and he went on his own.

He stripped off and went into the steam room only to find fifteen naked blondes in there. He told me he stayed in that steam room as long as was physically possible. His wife must have wondered what happened to him. Happy days…

Granola with yo gurt and blackberries this morning. Yum. THG does a very good granola. None of this sugary shop bought stuff. We picked the blackberries ourselves. Was a good harvest in 2023. Funny to be looking back at 2023 now. I had grown used to it. All things come to pass.

JPR died – you will all have heard this by now, first on social media and then on the news on the wireless. He was part of the wallpaper in the seventies in Wales. Aged seventy four. You felt comfortable if JPR was in the team. I lament the passing of the amateur era of rugby. Doesn’t feel the same anymore. 

Nowadays when thinking of people from the past I find myself wondering if they are still alive. I google them. People disappear from your consciousness and only appear when their death is announced. It’s an age thing. People get on with their own lives out of the media glare. Most of us.

It’s already Tuesday. Twenty twenty four is racing by. Don’t want to worry you but trefbash 15 is already booked. 12th December. Theme is Tropical Trefbash. I book it just after the previous trefbash. I like to see how it goes before thinking about the next one.

In the meantime lots to be getting on with. Don’t want to wish twenty twenty four away do we? I’d like to think it will be the most significant year yet. We should approach every year with that attitude.

The heating is on, for the moment. I had a few fifty pound notes going spare so I thought I’d set fire to them. Picture THG and I huddled around a small pile of banknotes holding out hands out to keep warm. Feels like a Banksy painting. We ran out of chair legs ages ago.

Not totes true. I have two magnificent logpiles. Some of the logs might be ready and I plan to test them out this evening. They were from a large branch blown over by storm Eunice the year before last. The one where the planes and trains were cancelled and we were stuck in Schipol for eight hours and caught covid thanks to some filthy disease ridden traveller. Thanks a bunch. Pal.

Fortunately the shed is v warm and is my destination this morning. I have made a fourth pot of tea. The other three were made by THG who is a wonderful gal. No biscuits though. Outside the shed there is some sort of purple leaved palm tree in a pot. It keeps blowing over in the wind. It is bitterly cold out there. Winter is at its deepest. 

…

Using my hand axe I’ve chopped up a bit of fence for kindling. Got a v solid bit of oak as a chopping block.  Taken a couple of oak logs inside and supplemented them with some of the kiln dried wood we have left from last year. A log fire seems v appropriate tonight. Primordial.

I suspect we never tire of staring into log fires. A latent memory handed down by our ancestors who would no doubt have looked contemptuously at central heating. “Think of the gas bills”.

Presumably they did sit around the fire discussing issues of the day. Whereabouts of sabre toothed tigers. Stay clear of them. The annual salmon run. That kind of stuff. It’s a lot easier to nip to Waitrose for some pre prepared hot smoked salmon, and a bit of salad.

Cmon baby light my fire…

For many this is the last day of the midwinter break/Christmas holiday. Some will have already jetted off to Barbados, others will be in St Moritz and the rest of you will reconciling yourselves to a week of drudgery and grind as your minds and bodies restart the process of wage slavery and refamiliarise yourselves with the office treadmill. Remember you have a team meeting arranged for nine ey em Monday morning. Don’t be late!

I’m only kidding. Like me I expect you are all looking forward to the challenges and excitement that lie in store in twenty twenty four. Bit of a rhyme there. Grasp that nettle and make it happen. My first meeting is arranged for a sedate three pee em and should be a fun session. Not fun in a barrel of laughs fun. Just interesting stuff.. 

I may sit in on the Monday morning sales meeting. I like to keep an eye on what is happening. It does get a bit boring mind you when each sales guy discusses in detail the facts of their opportunities. All I really want to know is how much and when the cash will be in the bank.

In the meantime, today is Sunday. In some religions this is the Sabbath and a day of rest and worship. Not in all religions. You can choose based on what you want to get out of the day. Sabbath and down tools or non Sabbath and get a few jobs done.

My 4 x great grandfather the Reverend Daniel Davies was excommunicated from his church, the Baptist Chapel in Llandysul, for allowing a farm hand to work on the Sabbath. I dunno whether it was a one off but the excommunication nowadays would seem harsh. They took him back into the fold a few years later. He too was married to an Ann fwiw. I suppose there is a scenario where she too carried the moniker THG but I doubt it. He probably called her Mrs Davies. Mrs Davies fach.

I will be putting up a newly framed photo of our daughter Hannah and boyf George. In the kitchen. Then I’ll probs make a start on the log pile at the bottom of the garden. Hard work mind you. The log pile not the picture. Also need to nip out t’t shops for a few bits and bobs including some more printer paper and a pint of milk.

Yesterday’s activities included taking down my map wall to make room for more posters. I’ve unrolled the posters and laid them flat on the other table in the shed in readiness for sticking up. Only slight issue is that I seem to have got a little carried away with buying replica Isle of Man tourist posters. I don’t want to use them all. Don’t want the wall dominated by them. Got a few gig posters to stick up and my super cool Monaco Grand Prix 1965 job purchaysed in Antibes last September. When I’ve finished I’ll let you know what I have left in case anyone would like one. FOC obvs 🙂In the meantime the wall looks very stark. It’s going to stay like that for a few days.

From mid afternoon onwards will be all about sport. THG and I are off swimming and get back in time to see Liverpool wallop Arsenal in the FA Cup. Then the snooker masters starts at seven. That’s THG out of action for the next week. She is an avid snooker fan.

In the meantime may the day bring you all you deserve, an outcome made more likely if you can get all those jobs done.

Ciao amigos.

New jobslist started for 2024. I like to have a new one every year. When I finish a job I just strike through the task rather than deleting it. That way I can look back over the year’s jobs with a sense of achievement, maybs. I accidentally added and struck through some 2024 jobs in the 2023 list but I’ll just write them off. Doesn’t matter in the great scheme of things. None of it matters anyway.

I like historical detail and my jobslist is such a thing. In a thousand years time people will be able to read my jobslists and get a glimpse of everyday life in Lincoln in the early twenty first century. Well no they probs wont. For one they are unlikely to be able to find my jobslist as it is in (on?) my password protected Google drive and even if it wasn’t it would be a small set of docs in an unimaginably large human oeuvre.

The lists could well be made public on philosopherontap and now that I mention it I probably will but even then that site won’t last forever. I guess there is the wayback machine, if it survives the great natural disaster of 2173.

This morning THG is off to the park run and I am not. She is therefore taking an early breakfast and again I am not. Her brekkie will likely involve porridge or granola and yo gurt. Mine will involve toast. I am taking advantage of this last weekend of the mid winter break to finish off any carbs left carelessly around the kitchen.

We also have a meeting of the Shed Appreciation Society scheduled for three pee em this afternoon. This is likely to be the last such meeting for a while due to other commitments but it will reconvene in the second half of February when I can put up holiday photos on the large screen in the shed for the enjoyment of the members.

Not really. Everyone will already have seen them on Facebook and noone is likely to want to look at them anyway. If I go out to the pub THG will often ask upon my return what we talked about. The truth is I will have no idea. It isn’t so much as “what is said in the pub stays in the pub’. It’s more down to the fact that it will have been forgettable banter that will genuinely already have been forgotten. I will have no idea how the new grandkid is or how the round the world cruise went.

The same applies to meetings of the Shed Appreciation Society. These meetings are relatively short and are conducted in the hour or two before people have to go home for their evening meal. Most members are able to walk home from the shed which is very wise as there is free access to the Stella Artois drinks fridge that resides under the shelving unit.

I dunno if I ever told you but the philosopherontap concept was invented in the Morning Star one evening in two thousand and eight. It was going to be somewhere that people could get together to discuss all things philosophical and creative. The strapline is ‘where art collides’.

At one stage I did consider an application to the Arts Council for funding so that I could sit in the pub talking pub philosophy with anyone who wanted. The money would go on buying beer for me and the pub philosophers willing to engage. Turned out that there was a ridiculous amount of paperwork that needed filling in so I abandoned that idea early on.

The website has been busy off and on. In the intervening sixteen years there have been two thousand two hundred and forty four published posts. Mostly mine but some by guest contributors – poets mostly. Nowadays it seems to be mostly the same stuff you get to see on Facebook but freely available to the world. No idea how much traffic it gets.

If you want a guest logon let me know. Ditto if you want an invite to the shed someday. You will find it a warm and hospitable place full of bonhomie and convivial conversation. Don’t expect to remember any of it though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Funkifying your text:

1. Dialect and Slang:

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

2. Play with Punctuation and Emojis:

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

3. Vivid Imagery and Humor:

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

4. Conversational Flow:

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

5. Embrace the Imperfect:

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

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

Then this is the ChatGPT output

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ChatGPT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

total £25.80

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TV chromecast working. Now playing the darts. Result.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Ambitions for 2024.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ciao bebes.