where art collides philosoperontap

V pleasant boozy lunch in Bal ham, gateway to the south. Joint family job. Davieses and Bradshaws. I am v fortunate that THG offered to share the driving. I drove to Newark Northgate and she is driving back. I am therefore now sipping away quietly at an Ellers Farm Distillery Original North Yorkshire gin watered down just a little by a low calorie tonic water. Not too much yanow. Just a lidlbit.

I’m sure many of you enjoy a boozy lunch once in a while. Not too often otherwise it isn’t a treat. The thing about a boozy ;lunch is that you have to keep going otherwise you nod off. Life is too short to nod off. Although I recall the time when Joe and I went to Nawlins on a bit of a boys trip. We flew in to Atlanta which was not ideal but it was the only airport we could get BA first with Avios so I figured it was worth the overnight stay to enjoy the benefits of first class including the Concorde lounge which if you’ve never bene is definitely worth visiting. Anyway one we had taken off Joe joined me for an extremely pleasant boozy lunch which we ended with some desert wine or simlar. I fell asleep but Joe carried on and polished off the bottle. When we arrived in Atlanta we checked in to a Hampton by Hilton near the aeroporto and hit the bar to finish off the evening. Joe was on the soft drinks which I didn’t understand until he told me that he had finished the bottle. I said he should have had a snooze but his response was that he might never fly first class again so it was completely understandable. Never say never though.As a result the hangover hit him when we got to the hotel. Hey…

The brain is somewhat sluggish this morning. The morning after our Joe and someday to be our Lucy’s engagement bash in Balham (gateway to the south). Not helped by not eating anything. On the way out to Balham I tried to use my room key to get through the barrier. That was before the party had even started! This morning I couldn’t get in the lift because the room key I thought I had in my pocket turned out to be my oyster card. Fortunately THG was able to leap into action with her key and up we went. Except we didn’t. We went up one floor and then back down to lobby level. Then the lift started up again. Someone had pressed the button to call it. Fortunately that person was on the fourth floor which is where we wanted to be. What an adventurous life we lead.

Now sat in the lobby watching the world go by whilst THG hits the shops. We are in Angel. The hotel is v convenient for Kings Cross and also, as it happens, Balham. Just jump on the northern line. Thirteen stops and you are there. I was born just around the corner on the Liverpool Road. On a Saturday, fwiw.

The hotel is full, as you might imagine, of tourists. Nary a word of the local tongue to be heard. Even amongst the American visitors. Mind you I’m not sure I could understand a lot of what the born and bred (and buttered) Londoner says anyway these days. Twill be a sad day when cockney rhyming slang disappears into the history books. Lend us a monkey.

The number 214, single decker bus has just rolled by closely followed by the 205 which has an upper deck and is thus far superior as long as the front seat is free. Neither stopped at the bus stop opposite the hotel as it is currently out of use due to road works. It’s stop PN Penton Street/Chapel Market if the info is useful to you. Don’t plan your journey based on getting on or off at this stop. I did yesterday when coming from Kings Cross and had to get off a stop earlier. How annoying eh?

Couple of New Orleans Saints fans sat in the lobby. Well she is. I think his shirt says SF. Don’t want to stare to much to see what team it is. San Francisco something or other obvs. I’d say, based on a quick trawl of tinterweb because these things are important, it was the 49ers. 

Have a good couple of hours to kill before we have to set off for our lunch date with Lucy’s mum and dad, the young couple, and me blood and blister Sue. There ya go. Lapsing into the vernacular. Always ‘appens when you return to your roots dannit. Although I was born here my roots are really in Wales and, actually, the Isle of Man where I spent my formative years. Dad, as the Director of Education, was instrumental in introducing Manx language lessons to primary schools on the island. Was after I’d left home so I didn’t benefit from the larnin but a nice legacy to commemorate dad’s time there.

Bloke called Hugo just sat down opposite. I assume that is his name as it is emblazoned large on the front of his shirt. Doesn’t look like a Hugo. More an Ahmed I’d have said but who am I to say. People give their children the most unlikely names. I think Moonbase Zappa changed his by deed poll. Don’t blame him. If you aren’t comfortable in your own skin sort it out. My own name is Huw Trefor Davies so not so far off being a Hugo. Probably wouldn’t have sounded right in Dolgellau in the 1960s. Ble mae Hugo heddiw? I am ok being Huw Trefor. My friends call me Tref.

In Wales it was quite common to use Trefor as a middle name. Well relatively common, ish. You would be called by both names – Huw Trefor, Robert Trefor, John Trefor etc. Not many people with the name Trefor nowadays. I started a Facebook group just for people called Trefor. It has 3 or 4 members. I messaged the 60 or so Trefors on Facebook but few of them were excited enough at the prospect to want to join the group. Needless to say it has very few posts. Perhaps that is the problem. Sokay. You run things up the flagpole, see who salutes and move on if it doesn’t work.

An hour until checkout. I suppose I should head up to the room and bring down the bags. THG is still somewhere out there in the great melting pot that is Angel Islington. All life is here.

I am now three stays away from reaching gold status for next year with Hilton Honors. This ain’t as good as it sounds because I am currently diamond but gold is fine. Building up the points for a big holiday somewhere sometime. We are unlikely to use a Hilton for our far east trip next year because a big trip like that merits staying in hotels that do justice to the location. However I can envisage a week on points in somewhere like Malta or maybe another mediterranean destination. Likely to be 2027 now. Amazingly 2026 is already looking busy and we haven’t planned any Isle of Man trips yet which is a must.

I think that’ll do for now. The cobwebs have been brushed away and I am able to see more clearly.

Ciao amigos. Hasta la vista.

Yay it’s the weekend. Time for a lie in. No nine o’clock meeting. Who on earth organises nine o’clock meetings? Busy people, sadists and those from a different time zone who can’t work out basic maths. Not on a Saturday, Shirley. THG will be up and out of the house by nine mind you. Park Run ninety one. Impressivo. I’ll be up as well really. 

I am informed that it is misty out there. Time of year innit. You knew that. Mellow, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Heating not on yet though. Wear a thicker jumper. Good word, jumper. Interesting origin fwiw. Just looked it up. 

I ditched the shorts a week or two ago. There was a bloke in shorts and tshirt at the Broadbent Theatre last night. Ard. Either that or a nutter. I did have to take my jumper off. They had the heating on. Ditto my love and peace leather jacket. Overkill. We had H7 and H8. Backrow aisle seats nearest the exit for a quick getaway. This is important at the Broadbent Theatre because the carpark, which is a small field just up the road, gets rammed and it takes ages to get out so getting there first is a must. It’s also important to reverse in to your spot otherwise it takes even longer to escape as no quarter is given by other theatregoers when it comes to needing space to reverse out and manoeuvre. You will recognise the sort from your visits to garden centre cafes on Sunday afternoons.

On this occasion we were first into the field. Despite my limited mobility the urgency of the task drove me on. We almost needn’t have bothered. Alan the volunteer car park attendant had double parked everyone. It’s the only way to get all the cars in despite it being a tiny theatre. To give you an idea, our row H was the last row on our side of the aisle and numbered twelve closely packed seats. You can work out the capacity. It’s a lovely little gaff. Quaint. Should be supported. We do. Made Alan’s name up. I think he did get namechecked by the announcer but I didn’t register it, not realising that he would be featured in this post the next morning.

Anyway, back in the car park, our row was double parked and we were almost at the end of it which did not bode well. Fortunately the person who had stuck his Skoda in front of us did not do it very effectively and there was just enough room to squeeze through with just inches either side. The problem was turning at the end. I didn’t want to scrape the vw campervan parked opposite (obvs) but a couple of high pressure manoeuvres under the ‘patient’ glares of theatregoers returning to their own sensible cars and we were through. My only real problem is that I have no idea where the front of THG’s little Peugeot 208 is so turning in tight spaces brings with it an element of uncertainty. Improbability. Had we been in my, long since sold, land rover defender it would have been an impossible job despite the 360 degree cameras. We were third or fourth out of the car park and sped away from Wickenby in a jubilant mood. I like driving down those back lanes in the dark.

We always enjoy our night out at the Broadbent Theatre. They have a little bar that they wheel to the front where folk purchase drinks of their choice. At the interval someone sells ice cream also down the front which results in a longish but orderly queue. I refrain from the consumption of any liquids largely because the gents toilet is to the right at the front and offers no access possibilities during a show. Whilst I have in the past had an ice cream my present regime discourages the consumption of such foodstuffs. Quite right too.

Today sees us leaving Lincolnshire’s rural theatreland in our rear view mirrors as we head south for a party in the bright lights, big city. On the train, not THG’s car.

Ciao bebes. There is breakfast to consume.

No fox news to report nor venison. Squirrels and pigeons but they are not worth reporting unless I catch one of the buggers red handed despoiling the infrastructure around the lake.

Mark the joiner is back this morning for hopefully his last day of activity, apart from the fixing of some floorboards upstairs but that needs planning as the carpet will have to be taken up. THG has gone to the gym so I am in the shed “doing stuff”. I do have to nip out to buy flooring for the utility room which I will do a bit later as I also have to pop to Hemswell Court to pick up a pair of secateurs left there after Hannah & George’s wedding and to Hackthorne to pick up my framed SOS wafer (if you know you know). My other jobs include putting away the pickled onions I put in jars yesterday which is hardly a job tbh but needs doing  and to marinade a couple of chichen breasts for tonight’s tea. You will forgive me if I occasionally slip into the Liverpudlian vernacular. I am married to a scouser after all. The latter needs a decision on the marinade which takes time obvs. Swat the www is for.

For some reason I woke up at midnight last night which actually turned out to be fortuitous as I had planned to book reward flights on BA this morning and the nearer to midnight you do it the better your chance of getting the flights you want. It turned out that when releasing reward flights BA do it at midnight GMT which was 1am BST. I repeated the process at 1am and successfully got my tix. The flight has the Club World Suites. The cognoscenti amongst you will know that this is important. With the old setup you really had to get first class tickets if at all possible but BA are doing fewer and fewer of these. The Club Suites are as good as the old first class so I’m happy enough. Just have to wait a couple of weeks to add the return leg before I can properly put together a schedule. Am looking at ‘nam, as they say. Or at least they used to. I never have. Until just now.

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Quite a bit of work to be done under shed decking. Really just putting off the day until it will need renewing. Mark was quite scathing about whoever put it in but TBH it has probs been there for over 20 years so we have had good wear out of it. In fact when mentioning this to Mark he said he just found an empty crisp packet with a 2003 sell by date. 

Got to Hemswell and there was “nobody in today”. Ah well. Called in at Forge Arts in Hackthorne. They were shut because there was “something wrong with the door lock”. Ah well. Shit happens. Then on to Carpetrite. They didn’t have the exact same flooring in the 2m width so I got the nearest match. I guess that counts as a result considering the other errand (errant) successes or lack of. 

Bit of a bonus in that I swung by Fosters on the way home and picked up a wodge of streaky bacon which will go nicely in the chicken and avocado salad tonight. Funnily enough I had chicken salad after golf last night! No avo though. It was dark by the time we finished playing so the season is rapidly drawing to a close. Some of the lads struggle to get there earlier than 3.30pm and as soon as the clocks change we would need to be getting out at 10am really. I’ll be out of action until Christmas anyway because of my post hip hop recovery period. Not completely out of action but definitely out of sporting action.

The meadow has been mown. THG uttered these words when standing at the sink looking out of the kitchen window. I thought I’d capture the moment. Domestic life in the twenty first century. Did it the other day when mowing the lawn. 

She was at the sink to fill the kettle to make the tea and coffee. We need a new kettle cos this one doesn’t switch itself off anymore. Still boils water ok though. You just have to keep an eye on it. No different to life a hundred years ago when you had to stick the kettle on the range and watch it boil. When did they stop using ranges? A hundred years ago is not far off the mark but you will want to know that cast iron range production practically ground to a halt during WW2 when they wanted to use the manufacturing plants for other purposes. Presumably there was a shortage of steel as well.

You had to be careful picking up the kettle from the range. The handle would be v hot. Use a cloth. You’d only forget the once. My grandmother’s cottage had the outline of a range in her small living room. It would have been the kitchen when they built the cottage. My grandfather, who was a miner, when he got home from work would have his bath on the floor in front of the range. They also had a cupboard under the stairs which was the larder and where they would shelter during air raids.

Eventually they built a small lean to extension which housed the kitchen and connected the house to what had been the outside privy. No central heating. It was bloody cold when you had to go to the loo in the morning.

The pit where my grandfather worked was over the road. Blaenhirwaun. My great grandfather on the maternal side, John Lewis, was the mining engineer who managed the colliery and built two cottages directly opposite. When he retired the presented him with an engraved miners lamp and a silver tea set which are now in the possession of my sisters.

I digress. I don’t know what I was going to say anyway. Yes I do. I started this post by clicking on the AI “generate document” icon and said “write a diary entry”. It did. I guess it meant well. It will never be me although I daresay the day is not far off when it could deceive people into believing it was me. One thing that caught me by surprise was the fact that it used Lexend font. Never eard of it. Had to revert back to Arial which I have used for decades but only because it is better than Courier or Times New Roman. I am a creature of habit, obvs.

No wildlife to be seen yet but I will update you when I’ve taken a look on the lakecam.

Today is when I begin the pickling process. I’ve been assembling the necessary tools and ingredients and needed THG to tell me where we kept the kilner jars which are now found. The only other thing I need is one more litre of malt vinegar and some fresh chillies but I don’t need them until tomorrow. Today is peeling the shallots day and then the salting process. I found some muscovado sugar which will do instead of whatever the recipe recommends. They all offer slight mods on a basic formula.

One year I did experiment with using different vinegars; white wine and sherry for example, or it might have been cider but I’m not sure I could tell the difference in the end product, particularly as I didn’t label the jars. Balsamic was one of the vinegars I think. I reckon peeling the onions will take most of the morning. There are a lot of them. If anyone wants to swing by to help then they would be v welcome but I understand why you might all be busy doing other things 🙂 

Back in Lincoln after a great time golfing in Norfolk. Hurricane Amy was brushed off as a mere breeze by a determined bunch of golfers hell bent on getting round the course. I used the same ball for the whole round despite Amy’s efforts to blow it off course.  

At home Amy left her calling card at the lake in the guise of a tree that she had viciously brought down. You can see from the photos that Brian experienced a very near miss. My god it was a close thing for the lad, who didn’t flinch and just carried on doing what he loves the most. I’m sure I’ll get to hear all about it when next we speak.

Whilst I was away, the night time lake visitations continued. It is interesting to observe that none of the wild creatures have been seen drinking any water. You would think this was one of the reasons for being there. It certainly is the case in Africa where during periods of drought a miscellany of wildlife is seen to congregate at water holes. Perhaps the back gardens of Lincoln abound with rivers and lakes.

Forgot to mention it the other day, what with all the hullabaloo with the fox, but Brian mentioned that he saw a submarine in the lake. Only the periscope mind you but when it comes to things in lakes Brian knows his stuff. After all, he spends all his time there. Brian is a man of few words and for him to come out with such a statement should be considered significant. Moreover as a straight talking gnome of integrity his remark has to be taken seriously.

Now there is a scenario where it wasn’t a submarine and Bri was mistaken but I’ve racked my brains to try and come up with anything that might look like a periscope but is something else and I’ve drawn a blank. I suppose it could just have been someone snorkelling but in that case Brian would have seen a body attached to the “periscope”, surely? Doesn’t sound right does it? The lake is deep enough for a sub. In parts it is as deep as Loch Ness which, as you know, is big enough to hide a monster. I’m sticking with sub.

It’s going to be interesting to get Brian’s insights into lake related matters. His gnome’s eye view will nicely complement the evidence of the lake cam. Enhance it even. For example the lake cam doesn’t capture weather conditions. Wind whipping up white tops on the water. Storms a brewing. I draw the line at tsunamis. I wouldn’t expect Brian to hang around after a tsunami warning. We major on health and safety at the lake.

I recall our hotel in Ao Nang in Thailand had a tsunami warning sign right outside. On the prom. Fortunately no tsunami was forthcoming but it was somewhat sobering. We weren’t on the top floor (there were only two) which with hindsight we should have requested and we were quite near the beach. I think the presence of the sign was sufficient warning. At the first sign of a tsunami we would have hot tailed it to high ground. I think as I recall I did ask to move up a floor but they were fully booked so no go. There was a nice pool at that hotel, fwiw.

I might look at putting in place another lakeside sign. Tsunami warning. The issue here is proportionality. I don’t want too many man made structures around what after all is a natural feature in the landscape. Perhaps I could paint it on a rock. Maybe a bird hide would work. Discrete. Blends in. Somewhere we could sit patiently and watch birds flutter in to land. Migrating egrets or simlar. Ducks. Get the binocs out. I must bring the binocs to the shed. My Collins bird recognition book is already here, somewhere.

I did want to put a bust of Zeus on a plinth in the undergrowth surrounding the lake. I’ve been looking for a Greek statue for a while and found one in the caff at Hemswell Antiques Centre. However, for some reason THG objected. Would have been very discrete and I thought the price point of £650 (including the plinth) was very reasonable. We married men (of thirty seven years) do accept that she and I are a team and the opinion of our chosen life partner counts. It’s not as if I could sneak it in and see if she notices. “That Greek statue? Oh it’s been there for ages”. This old thing 🙂

Dunno really, what to say. THG asked what’s going in the diary today. Nobody wants to know I had granola with greek yo and berries for breakfast washed down with a cup of tea. Do they? I suppose folk might be vaguely interested in knowing it’s looking a bit drizzly out. I haven’t looked at the lake cam yet so no fox news to report. Pesky fox news. It has been mentioned that the area around the lake needs landscaping and I don’t disagree with this but care does need to be taken not to despoil the wild nature of the place. No landscaping today anyway. Drizzle.

Yesterday on my way home from a preop consultation at the hospital I dropped by American Golf in Whisby and picked up a cheap driver. I was somewhat taken aback by how much you can spend on a driver. The latest Ping was five hundred quid or more. I wouldn’t get the benefit. Mine was the cheapest they had in the shop. I only wanted a second hand one really but they ship them all off to some used golf club website for disposal. My current driver is the fifty year old Ping Eye job I played with as a kid. Was state of the art then. I could hit it a long way. On a good day 280 yards. Norranymore. I’ve only been using it because I gave my other driver to John whose need was greater than mine. We mostly only play the par 3 nine holer at Laughterton.

It’s all systems go for the next hip hop btw. 28th October. Tuesday. Mr Manktelow only works there on Tuesdays. He spreads the lurve around different hospitals. Hip lurve. If it’s Tuesday it must be the Park Hospital.

I quite like this drizzly weather. Relaxing. The time is not too far when we will light the fire. Plenty of fuel at the bottom of the garden though I do need to split some of the logs. Problem is they are like concrete. Hadn’t realised they are best split fresh. I’ll work out a way. A combination of axe and sledgehammer should do it.

Tomorrow us lads are off across the county line to Norfolk for a golf trip, hence the new driver. There is usually a big prize for the longest drive. Pound from each player so six quid on offer. Rich pickings. Same for nearest the pin, the front nine and back nine. A total of twenty four pounds up for grabs. Not sure anyone has ever made a clean sweep. That would be like winning all the majors in the same season. Aint gonna happen.

Happily nipped down to make the tea this morning whether it was my turn or not.  Always nice to get home innit. Cooling down a bit to the extent that we now have the thick counterpane on the bed so the act of getting up was not without a mild element of effort. V cosy under the duvet. We are a long way from needing to put the heating on. Not at the thick jumper stage yet. I do have a very nice BlackYak woollen job made in the Himalayas that I wore all last winter. You can get away without a coat when wearing that jumper. I might go through my jumper collection and take some to the charity shop. See how it goes. There will be some there I’ve not worn for years. Probably even forgot I have them. Just imagine what it was like in the past without double glazing or central heating and a draughty house. Within living memory. Brrr.

I did stick the heating on in the shed yesterday when we got home and promptly forgot to switch it off when I came back to the house. Will be toasty there this morning.

Going to treat meself to a bacon sarnie for breakfast. Not had one for a few days. Certainly not whilst away in Berlin. Hotels in the UK struggle to provide decent bacon and ones abroad have no chance. Even those that try, as is generally the case at Hiltons, it’s always overcooked streaky rubbish designed solely for American visitors who are clueless when it comes to bacon. Don’t get me wrong. Streaky bacon is good but it doesn’t want to be too thin and certainly not cooked to a  brittle frazzle.

I have bread in as I bought some when I did an emergency dash to the coop last night for a tin of beans to go with my fishfingers. We thought we had some in the utility room but visits from offspring had depleted the stocks to the point of exhaustion. We wouldn’t do without them obvs (both beans and offspring). Baked beans are now £4.75 for a four pack! Wtf!! Luxury food!!!

Anyway the curtains have been flung open and daylight is streaming in, heralding the dawn. Moreover my phone is down to 15% charge. Time to get up. There is bacon to cook. Bread to toast. Battery to charge.

Ciao bebes.

Time was, getting out of Berlin was difficult, if you didn’t have friends in the right places. On this occasion the taxi provided by the hotel was there waiting for us and the time of day was favourable with all the traffic heading in to the city with deskbound commuters, chains rattling behind their Volkswagens as they stopped and started into town. Bag drop was quick. Why wouldn’t you check in online beforehand? 

Security was interesting. I suppose Fast Track must have made a difference but it didn’t feel like it and then, typically, my hand luggage was taken to one side for further investigation. I’d left a small pot of jam in it. Doh. It wasn’t particularly liquid but I’d forgotten it was there. I only whipped it because it was apricot and mango which I’d never heard of let alone tried so figured I’d give it a go. Had to wait for it to pass through the scanner again.

The cashier at the duty free asked what I thought of identity cards being considered for use in the UK. I should have told her to mind her own business but I said I didn’t mind. Turned out she was a conspiracy theorist. Moved on quickly.

The walk to the lounge was a bit of a hike. Until I discovered the moving walkway on the other side of the wall. Kept looking around to see where passport control was but it was nowhere in sight. It looked like we had an even longer hike to the gate. Then the guy in the lounge informed us that all we had to do was walk through those doors over there and we would be right at the front of the queue for passport control and the gate was directly after it. Result.

Looks as if there might be a delay to the flight which is a mild irritation but we are comfortable enough where we are sat. The biggest issue is the twelve twenty five planned arrival time at LCY versus the fourteen oh six direct train departure from Kings Cross. We bought flexible tix just in case. I’ll keep you posted obvs. In the meantime I have a book…

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Farewell to the friendly frauleins of Friedrichstrasse.

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Miracles do happen. Plane arrived on time and our bag was first through on the baggage carousel. Priority tags do sometimes work. THG had just said “It’ll probably take ages” to which I responded “no it will be the first through” and lo… It’s all about attitude innit. 

Only negative is that the retractable handle on my red suitcase is knacked. Doesn’t mean it has no further use but the suitcase will certainly be replaced for the next jaunt. It’s seen plenty of action in its twenty or so years of service. Doesn’t owe us anything. The new purchase won’t be for a while now as we have no big trips planned before my next hip hop at the end of October. Christmas maybs.

Nice to be back in the U U U K anyway. Train is rammed. We have seats E11 and E12. E13 and E14 were unreserved so I sat opposite THG in the latter. Was just settling down when some bloke in a 3 piece suit rocked up and stared at the seat. Turned out he had just bought the ticket and accompanying seat reservation. No problemo. I moved. Then someone else arrived to claim the fourth seat so now on our table that is a perfect size for two we have the full complement of four bums on seats. First world problems.

Bought a couple of bots of Tanqueray export strength gin at the Berlin duty free. 47% instead of the usual 43. Twenty five quid a bottle. Same price as the coop or perhaps tesco but a bit more kick.

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Given up on the Dissolution of the Monasteries book btw. It was so detailed it was getting repetitive. I got the gist.

Wall to wall sunshine in prospect in Burlin. Another beeootiful day. We wake up somewhat stuffed after a night out in Potsdam with Stefan and Katja, and our John. A good time was had by all. Unusually we went to a creperie called La Madelaine. I’m somewhat astonished that it’s taken me nearly 64 years on this planet to try a galette. Finished off with a calvados. Couldn’t squeeze in a pud. Comes to something when even your pudding stomach is full.

These weight loss jabs really do suppress the appetite. Up until now I’ve shed a modest amount of weight. Enough to notice the difference but not the great strides I’ve seen with others. Then last week I met a bloke who had lost five or six stone. He told me that the real progress only kicked in after three months. This is where I am at right now. However, in the run up to my next hip hop I have to stop taking the jabs so it feels as if it could be the new year before I start up again. Will ask the doc.

Previously at the Barberini gallery we went to an exhibition of the works of Camille Pissaro. You probs know he was an impressionist and unusually the whole gallery was turned over to this exhibit. Hundreds of his works. OK I didn’t actually count but there were a lot. What struck me was that the impressionists were famous for painting using dots rather than long brush strokes. Pissaro soon got fed up with using dots as a painting would take too long to finish. There ya go. Learn something new every day innit.

Got back to the hotel lateish and decided to go for a nightcap in the hotel bar. This is when we found out that the hotel doesn’t really have a bar. It’s more of a nightclub. One or two blokes there seem to have dragged their daughter out! We only had the one as the noise was too much and the drinks service v slow.

Retreated to the room and had a beer from the mini bar whilst following the Ryder Cup coverage. You have to wonder whether there were any American fans in the crowd that have ever actually played golf. They are just yobs with no understanding of golf traditions and etiquette. The European team has let the golf do their talking. Should be a fun day today. We only need 2 ½ points out of twelve to retain the Ryder Cup.

Then overnight it felt as if Berlin was a war zone. Sirens left right and centre. Could hear them even in our triple glazed room on the thirteenth floor. Going to ask this morning if there was something kicking off last night. Probably just a normal night in downtown Berlin.

We are having a more chilled day today. The lad is cooking lunch for us. Broken out a new pair of bamboo socks in honour of the occasion. THG is still dozing away and there is no rush to get up for brekkie. It is a good breakfast here fair play. Will pick at something 🙂 

Back at the room last night was thrilled to receive a message via Ancestry from a cousin in Wales. Not met him. This is very exciting as our mutual great great grandfather had a woollen mill called Rhiw’r Adar (Birdshill). Prior to that it was called Felin Obaith or mill of hope. This I knew but he has visited the gaff. I know where it is. Just haven’t had the time to go myself yet. It’s two hundred and fifty miles or more from Lincoln. It’s also something I have to pick the right time to do as these visits are best done alone to get the most out of the trip. Last spring Rhiw’r Adar was on my list of places to see but I would have needed an extra week or two to get around to it. All v time consuming. All in good time.

We are gradually coming to here. Getting up. Ciao bebes.