where art collides philosoperontap

Tres misty out there. This I like. It is autumn after all. Makes the house feel that much cosier. Now invigorated by a fresh batch of THG’s granola. Only had a small portion obvs. n yo.

Woke up this morning after another strange dream. I was with some others on a train, somewhere exotic. Coming back from some event or other. At some stage I realised I’d missed my stop. Either that or the train hadn’t stopped there.

Not to worry. We got off at the next stop. There was a bloke in train company uniform wearing a hi viz top who initially stopped me getting off to allow folks in the row in front of me to go first. Fair enough. Then he let me off but took off my jacket for me. Don’t ask me why.

I stepped onto the platform and mosied towards the entrance to see when the next train in the other direction would be. Turned out it was on platform two in six minutes. Result. I gathered my companions who had been looking at things for sale on some kind of market stall and found platform 2. There was a train already there but it wasn’t ours. Nae bother. 

That train left and ours approached the station. This is the point I realised that the hi viz guy still had my jacket. What happened next I know not. Did I call the train company? Dunno. Did I go back the next day to see if hi viz was there or had handed my jacket in. Nope, don’t think so. Don’t know really. I’d woken up. 

I will never find out if I got that jacket back. Ah well.

Tried to book a swim this pm but the system wouldn’t let me. Then I realised I’d already booked it. Doh. Fine.

Have the test match in Pakistan on the wireless. Far more interesting than the news. We are doing ok. It is good when the cricket is going well. Not so good when it isn’t. At that point I switch off as I can’t cope with the emotional side. It’s lunch now. In Pakistan, not here. Here I’ve just had breakfast, as you know. 

Chow, ciao.

No granola left since I polished the last of it off yesterday so this morning I had to cook a full English. Ah well. Gotta build up my strength before the stretch and flex class at 10.30. Be arite. 

Tis quiet in da hoose as THG has already set off for the gym by hoof. Interesting innit, language. I assume most people will understand what I’m saying although some may be confused by the acronym. Depends on the sitch obvs but it is more important that people understand what I’m saying than how well the words have been put together grammatically.

The one exception to this rule is American spellings. I don’t mind Americans using their own language but certainly not people this side of the pond. There is one recently opened pub in the Bailgate whose website talks about flavors. I pointed out their error on their Facebook page but they ignored it. 

On that basis I’ve never been in the pub. If a business has such a careless approach to detail I can’t imagine what it is trying to sell is any good. Won’t last. Pubs and restaurants at this particular location never do. People don’t learn. Mind you I don’t often get to pubs nowadays. Only on speshul occasions and the occasional early doors with the boys. 

One exception is a week Monday where we are off to the Tower Hotel for lunch. Our Golfing trip to Northumberland has been postponed until next spring but we figured we shouldn’t waste the opportunity to discuss holes in one, swings and how to cure a fade. I daresay the cognoscenti could point at many other exceptions to my pub visiting statement but for now I’m sticking to the line.

Outside the binmen are working their way along the road. One bloke seems to be able to work two wheelie bins simultaneously. Probably been specially trained. The road is otherwise quiet, it being half term. An occasional burst of traffic whizzes by when the lights change at Ruskin Ave. This traffic design feature makes it really easy for us to get in and out of our house as there are often longish gaps between cars. Fortunately we don’t usually need to reverse out anyway as there is loads of room to turn in our drive.

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Following on from our fish finger sandwich conversation the other day and noting Andy Davidson’s comment regarding mayo, aioli or even tartare sauce for the genre explorers amongst us I feel it worth making a statement. The humble ffs is food of the gods but it is also a staple, nay delicacy of the mass market. 

On this basis it is perfectly reasonable to assume (Heinz – point taken @michael) tomato ketchup as an accompaniment. The point being that radical ingredients such as aioli have no place in the fridge of “the common people” in 2024. I include myself in that demographic.

It is unlikely that Mr & Mrs Smith of 10 Abercrombie Crescent, Sheffield have even heard of aioli and whether it is sold by Tesco I know not. This is to a certain extent because I hardly ever go to Tesco but that’s another discussion :). 

The Smiths will know of tartare sauce as it will be a regular accompaniment to their large haddock and chips with mushy peas when on a day out in Skegness. It is unlikely that they will associate tartare sauce with the ffs they regularly make at home.

Does this matter we ask ourselves. Should the fact that Mrs Smith “wouldn’t touch that aioli muck with a bargepole” colour our own judgement? 

Ordinarily I’d side with Andy. My typical views are if it is popular it must be crap.  However on matters of supreme importance such as the choice of accompaniment to a ffs I have to say I’m with the Smiths, ffs.

This is not to say that Andy isn’t within his rights as a well travelled individual and thus an experienced gastronome to express his own preferences. We should simply state that these are very much Andy’s views and not in any way representative of the feelings of most. He should not strive to influence here, merely to inform, his comments reserved for page eleven of the Daily Mirror. I was going to say Daily Mail but I wouldn’t want to insult the lad.

Smith btw happens to be the most common surname in Sheffield – looked it up after writing this.

Dishwasher repair man day. Exciting eh? The little things in life. Did without one for the first twenty six years of my life. Doubt we could fit one in our kitchen at home when I were a lad. Reality is it hasn’t been a huge chore not having a working dishwasher. Just what you are used to I guess. 

There is an element of washing your dishes as you go along being a good thing. Not when it comes to Christmas Day though where the dishwasher works overtime all day coping with the large breakfast serving and several lunch crockery washes.

It is eight thirty. I have ninety minutes to get ready for said dishwasher repair man. Shower, shave etc. Not that I particularly need to look good for him. It’s what I do anyway 🙂

Had to switch off the wireless set during breakfast. Full of USA election stuff. Politics. There must be a programme somewhere at breakfast time that talks about something I like. A good documentary.

So now I’m sat in the front room waiting for him to come. Mark I think his name was/is. Could be wrong. He will forever be dishwasher repair man to me. As long as he can fix it. Otherwise it’s a trip to Currys or wherever you buy these things. Can’t really get excited at the prospect. It’s only a bleedin dishwasher for goodness sake (other forms of language optional).

I remember we were in Currys once a few years ago buying a telly. Hadn’t bought one for a very long time so I stood there staring at all the tech specs. How on earth do you choose? I sought assistance and was pointed at “old Reg” or some similar name. He was the expert on TVs.

I asked old Reg how I should go about deciding on which box to buy but all he did was read the features out aloud. I could do that meself. Reg knew bugger all about TVs really. Probably knew all the programmes. That must be what the other sales assistant meant.

Anyway we bought a telly. That TV is fairly old now. Not a “smart TV” but doesn’t really matter as it has a Chromecast plugged in to it. The telly in the shed is a posh one but that also had a Chromecast and Roku, both now replaced with a new Google TV Streamer. The streamer fixed the fact that I couldn’t cast Discovery + programmes onto the telly. In fact it has the Discovery + app. Only issue with it is that the streamer has a very limited range of audio options. One of them plays through 7 speakers so that is fine but the amp can do much more than that. Maybe it’s a setting somewhere. Probs.

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THG has returned from the market to take over the waiting for the repair man to arrive. She won’t be sat in the window doing an Eleanor Rigby, nosirree bob.

STOP PRESS – DRM arrived at 10.51 BST. Fingers crossed eh?

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Well DRM did the biz. Twas a blocked pipe near the sink. Hadn’t even realised they were linked. Good money in the dishwasher repair game. £92!

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Swim swum. Anne’s car refuelled. Full tank of gas and ready for the road. Not that we are going anywhere. Tonight it’s Liverpool v Leipzig, or similar. Away. On the telly.

Off for a swim with THG first thing. Well nineish. Something we do on Tuesdays. Then she goes off to some gym class or other. Power lifting probs. Something like that anyway. One of these days she will be doing one handed press ups with clapping in between. Impressive girl.

Because of the earlyish start I have already finished breakfast. Granola ‘n’ yo’ with berries. I like that way of putting it. ‘n’ yo’. Good marketing. Branding. Tref’s new breakfast brand. Not sure whether THG would be up to mass producing her granola though. This is really a small batch artisan breakfast. Should sell for premium dollar. Will ave to see how it goes. Not even mentioned it to her yet 🙂Would need to be scalable for it to be worth the effort. Snorrapnin.

One of today’s jobs is to box up the Virgin Superhub 5 (or wotever it is) and send it back. The prepaid packaging arrived. Only used it in modem mode for the past 18 months as I have a Unifi Security Gateway PRO with dual WAN ports. Don’t need that second port now but hey. In all fairness to Virgin the Superhub 5 was a big step up from their previous router. However it doesn’t compete with three Unifi 6 access points – upstairs, downstairs and shed.

Then tonight it’s the Imps v Crawley away (ok Crawley v the Imps). Our Tom and Joe are off to the match. Might get a glimpse of them in the crowd. It will only be a small section of stand with the away fans. Doubt it is a big ground anyway. Maybe they will hold up a banner saying ‘hello mum and dad’. Unlikely I’d say.

In the meantime the cider making process continues. THG reports a satisfying gloop, gloop coming from the demijohns in the utility room. Will be quite some time before it is ready for consumption. No rush. Like a fine wine. Will keep you posted on that one obvs.

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V close run thing at Waitrose caff. I don’t bother if there is a queue but today there was just one person in front of me who had just been served (lattay and a danish). I ordered a lattay and just as I collected the drink the lycra clad Pink Ladies Running Club rocked up for their apparently regular Tuesday tipple. My god that was close. Two minutes later and I’d not be ordering that cawfee.

Bumped into @John M and had a nice chat with him whilst his missus was at a knitting get together or similar in the Waitrose community hub. Gotta stick to yer knitting.

Home now to get on with the day. If it’s Tuesday it must be my write the book day. Still at the research stage.

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Interestingly since I’ve started reusing Ancestry.co.uk I’ve come across records submitted by people who must be cousins who I don’t know. My Irish gg grandparents. I knew who they were but had not added them into mam’s side of the tree. This history lark is going to soak up a lot of time.

It’s been years since I had a fish finger sandwich. This seems wrong. A ffs is one of the great delicacies of the culinary world. Certainly in the sandwich world. It’s up there with the crisp sandwich and the bacon sandwich.

The quality of the fish finger is important. Doesn’t have to be premium but not the real cheapo stuff. The bread is also important. Nice buttered good quality white. Again not the cheapo crap but it doesn’t have to be artisanal. A light smear of tomato ketchup is appropriate.

This needs thinking about. An important element of the good life without being overly ostentatious. Fish fingers not caviar. Tea not champagne. I like both tea and champers btw but find prosecco a bit on the light side. I drink a lot of tea but not much champagne. Relatively speaking. A teabag costs two pence and doesn’t send you to sleep for the rest of the day if consumed at breakfast time.

Don’t ask me what made me think of this right now. Ok Jamie is making some sort of fish cake. I’m not listening – have the Bose on listening to tunes but did catch the fish cake bit.

I’m not a huge fish eater. Don’t mind a bit of haddock and chips with mushy peas, bread and butter and tartare sauce washed down with a cuppa at lunchtime when at the seaside. The occasional pan fried sole also works.

When I were a lad mam would cook my sisters Ann and Sue fishcakes but I’d have burgers or rissoles. You can’t get Birds Eye rissoles any more. Or were they Findus. Can’t remember. Served with chips and peas and bread and butter. Often. The good things in life.

If we are talking about sandwiches then a good quality ham also does it for me as well as a nice mature cheddar with THG’s spicy plum chutney or chopped onion is also good.

There is a football in the middle of our lawn. It has been there a few weeks now, nay months. Our John was kicking it about sometime over the summer and there it stayed. I might occasionally give it a gentle tap, moving it. 

The football is now surrounded by fallen leaves. Unaware of any symbolism here although I could make something up. “Permanent impermanence”. Let it roll.

Autumn is very much out there. After the rain of the weekend the days ahead look clear. The relevance of this is that Thursday is golf day. Whilst an arthritic hip is currently keeping me off the greens I do join the golfers for dinner afterwards. If it rains we just do the dinner and over the winter it seems likely that it will be mostly just dinner. We are a crowd of fair weather golfers. I expect the hip sitch to be sorted and should be back on the fairways next season. The occasional use of a buggy should allow me to keep my hand in.

The leaves fall now in flurries. At the end of the summer it was the occasional leaf, drifting by my window, but now they come down in groups. Teams. Branchfuls. At some stage we will need to decide on the optimum time for lawn leaf clearance. This is important. Do it too soon and you do it twice or more. Leave it too late and the lawn gets damaged.

The other news is that the dishwasher is still broken. Error code F11. Drain pump. Can’t see any blockage. THG has reached out to our dishwasher repair man so see how it goze. I reckon it’s only our second dishwasher in this kitchen in oo maybe twenty years so perhaps it is coming to the end of its useful life. See what dishwasher repair man says. I have visions of a bloke turning up in overalls purposefully clutching a spanner. 

Tis a Monday morning according to every calendar I have looked at. Google calendar. Plus it says so on the top right hand corner of my macbook screen. That’s two sources, both being global tech giants (behemoths?), agreeing on this subject. Plus my native wit and intuition brought me to the same conclusion, knowing as I do that yesterday was a Sunday. Important 🙂

There is nothing in the calendar for today but there are a number of items on the jobs list that might well get done. Fixing the catch on the cupboard door in the hallway. It’s where THG keeps some of her shoes. Fixed it once but obvs didn’t do a good enough job.  Will put more effort into it this morning. It should be a simple matter of glueing the magnetic catch in properly. 

I also have a tool tidy to make in the garage and a little shelf to hold drinks next to the sofa in the shed. Not particularly important jobs but little things that all add up to a better overall experience. The shed is getting a major investment in lighting which will not be ready until mid December. You will have to wait to see what that is.

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I was minded to play Autumn Leaves by Edith Piaf. I have it on repeat. Seems to be an appropriate tune for the moment, not that I am in a particularly melancholic mood. It is certainly relaxing. Just felt one of those shudders of relaxation go through my shoulders. Moved on to La vie en rose.

Doesn’t take much leaning back with eyes closed to imagine you are in Paris. Reality is Paris doesn’t live up to the romantic image brought up by these songs. Doubt anywhere does. Except maybe New York which is a totally mad place.

Been giving some thought as to where to go on our next big trip. Got tons of Avios. Half thinking maybe Hawaii followed by somewhere else on the way back. India? Needs a lot of careful consideration. We haven’t done the Pacific nor the sub-continent. Does it matter? No. I dunno. Plenty of time to think about it as we are looking at 2026. 2025 is already spoken for!

Moved on to Jacques Brell. Ne me quitte pas. One of the all time greats. Don’t really get on with most of his other stuff but that one song just blows everything else away.

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You may or may not know I cancelled my Virgin broadband account and am returning their router. Got an email from them identifying two routers I needed to return. Sigh. I returned one of them years ago when they sent me the new one. So I’ve just spent an hour trying to get through to them to sort this out. I finally got a WhatsApp message telling me to ignore the email and just go ahead and send the one back.

Now just waiting for Amex to call me. I’m trying to buy tickets for Jeff Lynne’s farewell gig in Hyde Park next summer using the Amex presale facility. Unfortunately the Amex ain’t working on their website!!! Amex usually has a very quick customer service response but on this occasion it’s taking ages. A lot more than the ten minutes for a ringback their message said. Presumably lots of people trying to do the same thing. Finally spoke to Amex who said it was the crap ticketing site at fault.

Anyway all’s well that ends well and THG and I are on our way to see Jeff Lynne next summer. Diamond VIPs us both 🙂

Storm Ashley is battering its way towards us no doubt wreaking havoc as it progresses. As a precautionary measure Gunby Hall is closed for the day. Was there yesterday, in the car park at least, picking up some walkers. The woman in the hi viz jacket whose role was to take the money informed me. 

At the moment all is calm in Skendleby. From our cottage we have views over the remains of the mediaeval village, now just outlines in the ground. Ripe for an archaeological dig I’d say. The mists have cleared but no sign of the wind to come.

Had a strange dream just before I woke up this morning. Wrote it down immediately so as not to forget. It was the opening night of a show in which I was performing and I got to the theatre very early to get in the zone. As I arrived I realised that I hadn’t learnt my lines. Hmm, there was still time, maybs. Then it struck me. We hadn’t even had any rehearsals! I think that’s the point at which I woke up.

No idea what happened after that. Can only imagine they cancelled the show. Lots of disappointed ticket holders. Always assuming they had actually sold any 🙂

Dream interpreters feel free to comment.

Gonna be a simple bacon roll for brekkie this morning as we have a big lunch planned at The Blacksmiths Arms. Table for eighteen? Have you booked? Tomato soup followed by roast boeuf. They talk like that around ere. Actually the accents of the locals yesterday sounded more as if they had all retired here from Essex.  Wouldn’t surprise me. Though no idea why people want to retire to the Skeggy area. Cheap. Here we are in the wolds where it is v pictureskew but on the whole it is v deprived and v cold and windswept in winter.

Was amazed to discover how much history there is to the area. The remains of Bolingbroke Castle are not too distant. Parts of Lincolnshire were settled by religious orders because of its remoteness. A string of monastic establishments. And of course there were the Vikings…

So we have a bit of time to kill this morning. Most of last night’s revellers will still be in the land of nod although Ashley, which is starting to make itself felt will serve as an effective wake up call. As usual we were in bed by ten thirty. Lightweights. The last whatsapp message in our camping group was sent sometime after one o’clock in the morning. We are particularly grateful to @Chris who had stayed off the pop and gave us a lift back to the cottage.

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One good thing about being away partying for the weekend is not having to see or hear the news. Ok it is difficult to completely avoid online but I tend to filter it out/not click on links.

The real issue now is that there is bugger all to do on a wet Sunday morning in Skendleby. We’ve already looked around the church and would avoid that in any case on a Sunday as I wouldn’t want to accidentally get caught up in a service. The church clock just tolled ten but when I looked there was no sign of any of the flock. 

Checked online but strangely found no definitive source of service times. However I then remembered I’d taken a pic of the notice board yesterday. Holy communion 11.15 every second Sunday of the month and evening prayer at 3pm every fourth Sunday of the month. Slightly disappointed as I wanted to see how many turned up. Ah well.

I quite like the idea of doing a tour of all the churches in the county. It’s the sort of thing people would have done in Victorian times when there was no world wide web to suck up all their time. Obvs this tour would note which hymns were up on the board of each church and provide a definitive list of past vicars. Feels like a worthwhile use of time. A definitive record of stained glass windows would also be a good thing to have.

Only an hour and forty mins until the pub opens 🙂

We wake up to seven chimes of the church bell in the sleepy Lincolnshire village of Skendleby. A pleasant gentle rain soaks the fields behind the cottage next to the church. The bell has a quaint flatness to it.

There is no hurry to the day. No pressing need to get up and get on with it. Enforced slowness. Thou shalt take your time.

The bemusing thing about the church clock, apart from the fact that it is about a minute fast, is that it sounds out the time every hour, even overnight. I guess in the countryside farmers get up very early to do the milking n stuff like that. 

Associated, as the church was with Bardney Abbey, the 24 x 7 nature of the chimes is probably also intended to help local monks tell when they need to attend to their devotions. Not seen a monk yet mind you but we only got here yesterday afternoon. Will ave a look today when we visit the church. St Peter and St Paul. Double bubble. Interestingly the church was restored by Gilbert Scott in the eighteen seventies. He got around dinnee. 

Skendleby has never been a very big village being mentioned in the 1086 Domesday Book as having a church and 36 households, with Lord of the Manor being Gilbert de Gant. In the reign of Elizabeth I wikipedia tells us Skendleby was recorded as having 27 households. Must have a few more now as it still has a pub, The Blacksmith’s Arms. Our cottage is at the end of the pub’s large car park.

The Sunday lunch at the pub is meant to be v good. Will let you know.

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Ten thirty seven and the other inhabitants are showing signs of life. They were a couple of hours later than us getting back from the campsite and not in any case known as early risers.

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Visited the aforementioned Skendleby church. Very much an impoverished small country place of worship. The only board that might have displayed hymn numbers could only have had one hymn. Furthermore there was no list of past vicars which was a disappointment. Did find one online but it only covered between 1549 and 1853. That’s a lot of missing vicars.

I did consider emailing the current Rector the Rev Fran Jeffries to see if she had the list but really I am not so interested as to go to any lengths to find out. The church notice board does provide some interesting detail such as the cleaning and flower rota for 2024 and a list of graveyard plots since 1960. No evidence of any flowers inside the church though.

There was a visitors book which I was invited to sign and did so: Tref of Lincoln.

Blessed be the dead which die in the Lord. Yea saith the Spirit that they may rest from their labours. Just sayin’. Stained glass window.

Error F11 is upon us. Dishwasher pump not working. Either there is a blockage or the pump is knackered. Sigh. It’s a blue job, according to the divisions of labour laid down by our camping fraternity. They are an old fashioned lot. I say camping. They are motorhomers or mohos. We now prefer to stay in glamping pods or cottages nearby especially at this time of year. 

I quite like the life camping but stiffness brought on by being somewhat over forty together with the need for night time sorties to the toilet block or hedge make a luxury cottage far easier to live with.

I must have told you the story before of how I went away with the scouts’ Mountain Action Team for a weekend of adventure and fun. Arrived late, in the dark in fact, at the campsite and had to pitch my tent in the snow. Our lateness of arrival meant we were slap bang in the middle of the field and nowhere near a hedge.

That night I lay in my tent in the small hours of the morning mulling over the fact that I couldn’t get to sleep. I wasn’t quite sure whether it was because I was cold or needed the loo. I decided to put a jumper on and walk five paces from the tent. The ground was frozen. It was v cold.

When I got back into my sleeping bag I kept the jumper on and slept like a baby. I still don’t know to this day whether my inability to sleep was down to the cold or needing a pee. Both probs. I haven’t been to the scout group camp for a few years now. It’s the best one of the year. We always seem to be away when it is on in September.

Meanwhile over in Multan, Pakistan has walloped England at the second test. One all now going into the third and final test which I assume is next week. The cricket has been a welcome addition to the autumn sporting scene at a time where there has been little worth watching from the football perspective.

Today we are off to Skendleby with the camping crowd. We have a tried and tested routine. Takeaway fish and chips on the first night, tonight, and a bbq tomorrow. Lots of beer,  wine and merriment. Mirth. Memories. Stories to be stacked up for retelling at the next get together or five.

Many of these stories centre around short walks that turned into ten mile expeditions with a crowd of knackered campers arriving back gasping for a drink. Then there was the time we had booked a restaurant near Woodhall Spa and were told it was only a short walk from the campsite. I was a bit suspicious about the amount of time it would take and the fact that there was rain forecast so booked meself and THG a taxi. When the others latched on to this they all ended up in taxis and we thanked ourselves for doing so when faced with the “short walk home” at the end of the night.

The packing for today is quite straightforward. Couple of spare tshirts and sets of undies with a warm coat (I have a down lined parka), blankets and camping chairs for sitting around the campfire. Plus toiletries etc natch. It’s a simple old life. The booze is already in the boot of THG’s car, having been left there after yesterday’s raid on Waitrose.

En route to Skendleby we are calling in at Alford. They have a museum, a shop called the Wool Factory and a church that may be visited. I like noting the hymns up on the board and the list of past vicars. Call it my contribution to the social history record of where we live 🙂

PS took the dishwasher apart as far as was possible and eventually found some fibrous material in the section with the motor. Hopefully the removal of that has sorted it.

I thought I’d share my shopping list today:

Booze
Burgers
Kebabs for Anne if they have em
Bread rolls
Breakfast stuff
Toastie bread
Mayo
Nibbles (not nuts)

This does leave plenty of leeway as some of the items are quite vague or at the least, generic. For example when we say Booze do we mean a four pack of lager or something else. 

When I was buying some cheese (not on the list I know but essential for a weekend on a campsite) they were giving out shots of wine. I tried one. I rarely do this, believe it or not. On this occasion I was seriously impressed and bought three bots of Cairanne Cotes du Rhone. Only nine quid or similar. I very rarely buy French plonk.

I only bought cheese because I’d tried some of the Roquefort being sampled and was also impressed. Even better was the fact that it had 25% off which I hadn’t noticed until the assistant told me. While I was there I also bought some Epoisses.

The breakfast stuff I got from Fosters including dry cured back bacon and some smoked back. Essential supplies for a weekend away with the gang. We already have eggs, shrooms and tomatoes. The toastie bread is mostly for breakfast. It is multifunctional and can be fried, toasted or used for cheese and pickle butties on Saturday. 

Fosters didn’t have kebabs so THG is having chichen. Burgers are for moi. BBQ sat nite. Firepit. Banter. Bit of cheese.

Next door is a hive of activity this morning, early. Phil and his roofing team are round there sorting out our rear extension. The old garage. It’s been needing doing for donkeys and now is the time. The store room that it now is gets a bit of damp and fixing the roof will hopefully sort it. All part of the putting the house in the right condition for the next ten or twenty years of occupation.

The old garage, which is at the back of the house, will not have seen a car for many years. Access was down the side of the house with just enough room to hold a vehicle built in the 1930s. Am thinking a Wolseley Super Six or a Riley 1 ½. Austin 10-4 saloon even (I googled all these). Dad used to have a Wolseley. When I were a lad.

Now, with our side extension the garage has been incorporated into the main building, the east wing. It was for a while my office, then a playroom but it eventually degenerated into a general dumping ground and store which is what it is today.

The roofers arrived before eight, urgh. Seven forty five actually. At least Tony next door has left his side gate open and they are just getting on with it without the need to involve me. Got me out of bed anyway which is good.

Have cancelled my stretch and flex class this morning but do have a consultation at twelve with Jess from Prikli Pear who I am talking to about getting a custom shirt made for tropical trefbash. See how it goze. Depends how much she wants to charge really. I guess that depends on how cool I want the shirt to look and therefore how much effort will have to go into it. Yelavetowaitandsee.

I have another meeting tomorrow pm with our graphic designer Jodie to discuss other things for the bash. Again yelavetowaitandsee but some of her excellent work is visible on my Facebook profile. Exciting times. Just invented a new word there. So good I used it twice. I daresay it will end up in the OED someday.

Satisfying short session deleting apps, some of which I don’t even remember installing. 3 different Paris olympics apps! A Broadway ticket app called Tix, used once. Can’t remember what other apps went. They were that memorable and rarely or never used. Useful things to do whilst lying in bed not listening to the news.

Looks typically autumnal out there. Raindrop covered kitchen window panes. Gangly apple tree limbs, clutching still the occasional stubborn fruit, sway with bluster. Leaf filled greenhouse gutters need clearing.

The kitchen is brightly lit, the table furnished with a cafetiere of cawfee and a small pot of tea.

Today we turn our minds to the making of cider. The demijohn airlock thingies are being delivered before 8pm which should be good timing. All operations will be conducted in the kitchen, it being an environment more conducive to operational success. Far too cold to do it in the potting shed/garage/greenhouse. Plus it will be dark out. Look out for photos.

I’m not really a cider drinker but it seems daft to have all these apples every year and let  them rot on the floor.

Meanwhile I finished my book on the story of the Spitfire, again. The only downside to the book is that it has a quote by Jeremy Clarkson on the dust saying it was the most perfect machine ever built, or similar. What value does Clarkson add? Been reading it in bed each night. Nothing like descriptions of technical differences between different versions of aircraft to help you nod off. 

Next up is “US Airborne Divisions in the ETO 1944-45” by Steven J Zaloga. Were it not for the likelihood that Steve is American you might almost think it was a pen name. He has written a lot of books if you want to Google him.

This morning THG is taking the Silver Bullet for a service. 23,000 miles. Not bad for a 7 year old car. She keeps it clean. It’s a clean machine. This is made easier by the fact that none of the kids live at home any more and are not on the insurance 🙂

Meanwhile it is a leisurely start to the day here. Perfectly ripe avocado on sourdough toast with a side of bacon. I cooked the bacon quickly in a pan on very hot heat. Gets the fat nice and crispy that way and a lot easier to do if all you have in the pan is bacon.

…

At my desk before ten. What’s not to like? This is not good really. The wild swings of the Trefor Davies morning routine. Some days, usually in the summer, I can be up by five thirty. In all fairness I was out of bed at the normal time this morning coinciding with Thought for the Day coming on the wireless. 

However after my leisurely breakfast I was in need of a shower and a shave so that pushed the time back. If I go for a swim I tend not to shave. Whilst I may well do some lane ploughing this pm, if the silver Bullet is back from its service, my chin very much did need some attention. 

…

Spent the afternoon cleaning and sterilising my cider making gear. Not sure if I needed to go as far as sterilising the crusher but sterilised it (mostly) is. The apples have been crushed and we are now taking a break for dinner before restarting the activity. Next up is the pressing.

Tuesday is the first day of the week. It is this week anyway. First full day at home. 

Got home around two ish yesterday and immediately stuck the heater on in the shed. Then a few bits and bobs to do including an expedition to Waitrose to buy little potatoes, a few slices of orange and marmalade ham and some salad. I made some lovely French dressing to go with it. It’s all about using quality olive oil and vinegar. Makes a huge difference.

First job after breakfast is to go for a swim with THG. To say we go swimming together doesn’t really tell the whole story. She is a lot faster than me and swims in a different lane. One that requires you to have go fast stripes on your costume. We do half an hour and I head off in her car while she does a few gym classes. Well maybe one.

The good news for today is that there is cricket. The cricket commentary nowadays is not quite what it used to be. Over the years some of the fixtures of Test Match Special have disappeared from the scene: John Arlott, Blowers, Fred Trueman, Geoff Boycott et al. 

Arlott left the scene a long time ago now. And actually I don’t mind not hearing Boycott. I used to turn the sound off when he came on anyway. Then Trueman started to get a bit repetitive and Blowers was a little long in the tooth. Funny how our mind plays games with us about “the good times”.

I am pleased to say that our three sons are all cricket fans. Well brought up obvs. Natch. I won’t be renewing my membership at Trent Bridge for next year though. Only used it once in 2024 and there is no decent Test Match on in 2025. Just Ireland. Not dissing Ireland but they ain’t in the same league as India, Australia et al. Also the pavilion at Trent Bridge is being renovated next year and will be out of use for the season.

…

Three thirty and I’ve sort of finished for the day. Gonna crack open a tinnie. Diet coke 🙂

Off home daujourdui. I care not about the sbelin or the lingo. Or about the journey really. None of this ‘better to travel hopefully than to arrive’ stuff. On this occasion travelling hopefully is fine but arriving will be good. A few quiet nights before the next onslaught.

Now off down for breakfast without my device. Figured I’d then be able to give my breakfast companion the attention she deserves whilst also charging the phone back in the room 🙂

Observations from the breakfast room:

When we arrived there was some noisy drilling happening in the ceiling behind the bar. Two blokes stood by watching. Then one left and later returned carrying a plastic trug containing plaster. The third person got up on the step/support/whatever you call it and did some plastering. Apparently they had had a leak and had to fix the roof followed by the internal work.

In the background the cleaning lady was dusting the high up bits of the restaurant.

On our table there were two bottles of HP Sauce. Every other table had one red and one brown. This felt good to me. I don’t do red sauce at breakfast. One of our bottles was almost full and the other two thirds full. I used the latter. My only regret is not having the phone with me to take a photo.

We chatted with the waiter and mentioned that we had been to Khans in Tranmere last night and were impressed with the £15.99 meal deal for poppadoms, a starter, main and rice or bread. He thought that was expensive as he pays £28 for a takeaway three course meal for three people.

Now to continue our journey…

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Motorway musings.

On the road to Lincoln. Google maps not Waze. Anne’s Waze voice is a woman with an irritating way of pronouncing “roundabout”. I need to fix that but not when driving and the phone is in use. 

I am the passenger for the first half of the journey. This is good as it means I am not driving on the tedious 50mph limit bit of the M62 around Manchester. Stressful. A full tank of fuel means no need to stop other than to swap drivers at the halfway mark, usually Hartshead Moor services.

Queensferry, Stanlow, Runcorn. A sign. We have one hundred and fifty miles to go.

Abba cars 444444. Thats treble four treble four or double four double four double four. I googled them. They are based out of Warrington. Only get a two star rating with over a thousand reviews. Not good. You wonder how a business like that stays in business. Must have the Warrington taxi market stitched up.

The cows around Stanlow are upstanding. It is an overcast day but clearly no rain in prospect.

M62 Liverpool, Warrington, Southport (M57). Preston, Wigan, St Helens M6. Different accents of the motorway system.

Monday Monday, so good they named it twice. Speed camera ahead. Not wearing my thick jumper.

I decided to look up famous Mondays in history. The first site that came up published mainly American stuff so only of mild interest. It’s a bit like the fact that they hold the world championships of baseball despite only involving local American teams. 

The one Monday that seemed international was March 20th, 1916 when Albert Einstein published his Theory of General Relativity. You’ll all remember that one. Was a big scoop for the scientific journal Annalen der Physik. Made the headlines big time. Of course when they read it  loads of people nodded their heads knowingly but few of them really knew what Albert was on about (taps the side of his nose).

The rest of the google search results didn’t really tell me what I was looking for. I didn’t want to know why Monday was called Monday. On another occasion maybe but not right now.
Annalen der Physik btw is one of the oldest scientific journals on physics having been published since 1799. It has had a fairly chequered history bearing in mind that WW2 and the subsequent division of Germany into East and West with all the political shenanigans that entailed, got somewhat in the way. Would appear to be still going though, one way or another, fair play.

We had a bonus lunch in Chester with Uncle Ted. He and cousin Richard were up for a spot of urban orienteering, as you do, and messaged Anne yesterday to say they were in town. By complete coincidence so were we. UT is THG’s fave uncle.

He has a number of claims to fame that include  being both a Cambridge and Harvard don and head of research at some major international pharmaceutical company. The most important of his accolades however came when he was a student and he worked at Brian Epstein’s record store NEMS. He was there one day when the Beatles came in and John or Paul asked him to stick Twist and Shout on the record player. Going back a fair bit. UT is in his eighties and still as fit as a fiddle. He ranks number three or thereabouts in his age group nationally for orienteering.

Today is all about visiting friends and relashuns. This evening we are off out to Khans near Berkined for a curry with cousin Geoff and Glenis. Got to take yer own booze. Before then it is Dave and Steph down the Dibbinsdale. We have moved our base to the Dibbinsdale Hotel (the Dibby)  for the night.

Settling in now in our room for a bit of relaxation. A snooze maybe.