where art collides philosoperontap

The mark of a good hotel is whether the toast comes out right first time off the conveyor belt. In the case of the Trafalgar St James this was very much the case. I had ordered sourdough toast that was brought to the table but only two small triangles arrived hence the need to add to my toast total.

It’s a good breakfast although they do have a habit of overcooking the bacon. I very much like well rendered fat but the bacon still needs to be soft. At home this is achieved by standing the bacon on its side around the side of the pan whilst finishing off the egg/waiting for the toast to pop up etc. They also offer large flat field mushrooms as part of the breakfast buffet which is very much to be commended.

We are now back in the room with an hour and twenty minutes to go before we meet Hannah and George for her CIM Diploma ceremony at  Central Hall Westminster. Tis only a short distance from the hotel which is why we chose to stay here.

The rooms are v comfortable at this hotel. Great pillows. Very dark at night with the curtains closed. Pitch black actually. Quite refreshing. No bedside clock to throw its dim illumination across the void.

Up at the crack of about twenty to eight and headed for the kitch to switch on the patent water boiling device/machine/kettle. THG rang. She too was about to go down for brekkie after a long day out with old pals yesterday. We both opted for a full English. In her case a full Wirral. In mine a full Waitrose. Today we shall be reunited, yay.

Now it is twenty to nine. Ma belly is full and there is just enough milk left for one more cup of tea which I will have once I’m dressed. Mostly packed so not too much to do this morning other than tidy the house sufficiently to at least pass the minimum acceptable level of tidiness for THG when we get home on Sunday 🙂

On this occasion I have had to pack some number ones as tomorrow we are off to see Hannah’s graduation ceremony.  Diploma in brand management or simlar from the Chartered Institute of Marketing. She worked hard at it fair play and deserves the recognition. In the evening we are off to a posh Italian for a family meal.

Hit town last night with the golfers. Bit of an eye opener as half the people out and about were in fancy dress. Not all ghoulish. A few ladies in cowgirl outfits, a batman, stuff like that. One medal bedecked Soviet era military uniform! We started at the Straight and Narrow, then hit the Cardinal’s hat followed by a new gaff called the Tap and Tonic (I think) which has taken over the shop previously occupied by Patisserie Valerie (or Pat Val as I used to call it – never went in meself). We were the only people in the T&T. How do they stay in business? Probs wont. 

Three pina coladas (a bit sweet) and a dark and stormy later, between the four of us, and we headed out into the street. We finished the night off in the Slug and Lettuce before Adie and I left the others to it and Ubered it home. That’s my night out downtown over for another year or three or four or more. Rooftop Bar of the Trafalgar St James tonight if anyone is in the area. A quiet night in.

No trick or treaters last night. I checked the cctv.

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For your information, five red arrows just flew over in formation. 

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The train slowly approaches the station.

Man with flag, invisible.

The barriers open and the people flow.

Let the people flow.

The people. The masses. The great unwashed. Proletariat. Brainwashed. Yes master. Those who shop downtown. When you’re alone and life is making you lonely you can always go downtown. Break your online retail addiction.

We slide swiftly and surely past the Sarah Swift building. Seat of learning, healing. 

Sheep graze in a pale green field. Autumn has arrived in the hedgerows.

In seat E2 I am cocooned from the world. The E2 cocoon. Unlikely that E1 will be wanted. I will look fierce. E numbers.

I booked E5 which had noone else on the table at the time. However three temerity filled travellers have reserved the other seats from Newark. I don’t want to talk to them. That was my table. Mine I tell you.

I am on the eleven twenty seven express to London Kings Cross. Staying at Trafalgar Square, heart of empire. Where the sun never set. I expect they operated a 24 x 7 follow the sun support function. Driven by an express postal service protected by the Royal Navy.

A grey couple got on at Newark and took their place at my table. They look uninteresting but maybe that’s just a cover for a rock and roll lifestyle. On their way south for the start of their stadium tour. Dunno. I’d have taken the chopper.

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The grey lady is playing a word search game on her iPad. Fair play. Gotta keep that brain active. Can’t see what the rock star is doing.

We pull into the grey town of Peterborough. Peterborough has a cathedral so it must be a city. Dunno if the old fashioned ways of place identifiers are valid anymore. They seem to make cities left right and centre these days, very much devaluing the institution/accolade/noun.

What do you do for a living? I’m the Bishop of Peterborough. Either that or a ticket inspector on the Nene Valley Railway. Both very respectable occupations if somewhat very different. Took the kids on the Santa Special on the Nene Valley Railway once or twice. They used to dish out mince pies with whisky or brandy miniatures to the mums and dads. The bish probs just splashes the communion wine around. Same but different. Very different.

The grey mob (decided this was appropriate) are taking the Piccadilly Line to Leicester Square and then changing to the Northern line. I overheard him say. In theory could be headed to the same hotel as me. Bit of a faff though. You almost might as well walk from Leicester Square tube. Not worth changing to go one stop. 

I’m jumping in a cab at Kings Cross. Won’t offer. I don’t know them from Adam. They are now talking about the budget. Not really my thang. Unless it’s pensions but I have a while to wait for that 🙂

Just walked past their table. He is reading the Daily Mail. Nuff said.

It is the last day of October in the year of our Lord (if you are that way inclined) twenty twenty four. The first and last time this will ever be the case. If it is a good one we may fondly look back on it, smiling quietly to ourselves whilst nodding our heads. We were there. The likelihood is it will be another unremarkable day remembered only because I’ve written this post 🙂.

Unremarkable is not a fair way to put it. In the great scheme of things they are all unremarkable. When, as seems inevitable, our civilization gets buried under the jungle canopy the day will not be remembered.

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The lawn is now mostly invisible. The only green bit left is under the kitchen window. Otherwise the yellow and gold sycamore cast offs are sitting there motionless awaiting the inevitable attention of the leaf blower. The blower operator is away. It will be next week before blowing operations commence, unless the wind gets up.

In the meantime, THG being away, I am having an even lazier than normal start to the day. The ingredients for a full English lie on the butcher’s block in front of me and the cast iron frying pan is ready in position on the stove. I am however consuming the first cup of tea of the day and have decided that breakfast can wait until the drink is drunk. In the words of the prophet, there is no hurry. No rush. No deadline to meet. No print run beckoning. No worries.

Well there is always something to worry about isn’t there. Nothing specifically springs to mind but I daresay that given time something will float to the surface, so to speak. I’ve probably just forgotten something v important.

Breakfast will be more of a brunch today by the looks of it. I guess sometimes people change the mix of the food when it starts being called a brunch. In my case it is just a late breakfast. I’ve even found a tin of beans that may be opened although not totes made my mind up on that one. Probs will

The problem is I have some chicken in the fridge that needs to be consumed and the lateness of the quite large breakfast will mean that I won’t really want lunch.

Once I’ve finished breakfast and showered I have a bit of packing to do. Off to London tomorrow and got a bit of a night out with the golfers tonight so it makes sense for me to be mostly packed today. Also have a bit of plaster to clear up in the ‘play room’. Part of the wall is being replastered and yesterday I hacked away at some of it to assess the scope of works.

New 1st world problem for you. Bread slices are often too big to fit into a toaster so as to toast evenly all in one go. I find myself having to turn them upside down once toasted to part toast the top of the slice. 

Now some of you I know will say just cut the bread in half and fit it all in the toaster. Well I don’t want to do that. Simples. Today I found the answer. Once the toast has popped up just cut the untoasted bits off and put back in the toaster. Don’t leave them for the full toasting cycle (or whatever it is called) as they will already be partly toasted. You end up with two large square bits of toast and two smaller rectangular pieces. It also avoids over toasting the middle bit of the slice. Simples.

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Just had a couple of Jehovas Witnesses at the door. The older one had a leaflet sized handbag and her hand was poised ready to whip one out for distribution. The younger one made the opening remarks. I asked if she was selling religion. ‘Not selling as such’ she said. I politely declined and they went on their way. I think next door might be a hindu. Doubt they will get anywhere there.

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Have moved one of the black bins into the kitchen. First step of the act of getting it into the play room for filling with old plaster. Why not stick it straight in the play room I hear you say. Well only because I think I have some large thick bin liners in the shed that would be right for this job so I’ve detoured to the bottom of the garden. Yet to look for the bin liners mind you. I think they are under the spare desk.

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Chicken sandwich with a glass of red before heading out. Seemed like the right thing to do. Bottle needed finishing off. I realise beer after wine is not supposed to be good but let’s see shall we. I dunno. I didn’t want a beer with my sandwich and as I said the bottle needed finishing off. Rarely drink a whole bottle in one sitting nowadays.

I have fifteen minutes before the taxi is due. Sat in the snug with the curtains shut in case any trick or treaters wander by. Sdark out. Dark very early. Racing headlong towards midwinter. Deep midwinter. Frosty winds. Moan.

Don’t particularly want the taxi to arrive early. Don’t want to rush the glass of vino. What’s the hurry, man.

Actually watch Disney+ this pm. Afternoon telly! National Geographic channel. A documentary about living in Alaska. Was interesting. I like documentaries about Alaska. Survival. Wilderness. Stuff like that.

Gone…

Banging out some tunes in the shed. Tropical trefbash playlist for after the @Jeff Brown band has finished. I want to keep y’all dancing. This year’s graphics are fantastic. You will meet the designer on the night. Most advanced orders that need placing are placed. All is in hand. We have over two hundred partygoers coming. 

With THG away I am relaxing with a gin and tonic. I know it is only a Wednesday but it feels like a Friday, whatever a Friday feels like. This I guess. Didn’t have any gin in but bought some specially.

Got an hour and forty five to kill before Brighton v Liverpool. In that time I need to get the Charlie Bigham chicken  jalfrezi cooked. Almost restaurant quality. All in all feeling relaxed. Now playing Love Shack by The B-52s.

All the tunes on the tropical trefbash playlist would be considered retro by younger generations. They all come around again and in fact many of them are probably staples at weddings and similar parties. My kids all have very eclectic and sophisticated tastes in music. Musicians themselves. Play that funky music.

We are having to rearrange tomorrow evening’s entertainment. The golfers were all going to converge on Lincoln Rugby Club for a cup game but the opposition, Stamford RFC, cried off because they couldn’t raise a team. Huh. Ah well. Probs afraid 😀 We are still doing something. Thursday afternoon is golf night, so to speak.

Bit of a result last night when watching the Imps beat Northampton. Managed to book the hotel we are staying in at the weekend for seventy quid a night cheaper. Always pays to check these things a few days before ya go. Also got double points! Yay. 

Noticeably lighter in the morning when I got up to make the tea. My turn. GMT. It’s almost as if the T in GMT stands for tea. Really it means lighter in the morning when I make the T. Time has no meaning. I suppose time does have meaning really. It’s the be all and end all.

I returned to the bedroom, tea tray in hand, to find the wireless blaring out a news item about the forthcoming budget. Don’t like to think of it. Ditto US presidential elections. I tune these things out. Do the right thing Amurica. 

The one mildly amusing political news item is the Conservative Party leadership election. Two useless candidates who will have no effect on anything, bless. They will be electing someone else within a couple of years. Bless. Thassenoughpolitics.

Scrolling through the paper, so to speak, the only good bit of news I could find was “Majestic brightness’: Warsaw’s Museum of Modern Art finds a new permanent home” After decades of nomadic existence, the Polish capital’s art temple is open for permanent business in an inspirational, light-filled new building (Guardian). Comes to something when an obscure article from Poland is the only good news I could find.

Chances are I won’t be going to see that museum. I’m a member of the Tate which is a lot closer and hardly ever go there. I’d prefer Krakow anyway. Great spot. Old, not modern. I realise you can’t blame Warsaw for that.

I’d spend more time reading cookery recipes which you might think would be innocuous enough and free from negativity were it not for the fact that chefs these days struggle to find anything new and find themselves concocting ‘delicious’ new dishes out of obscure or boring ingredients. 101 things to do with pumpkins. The hidden side of broccoli. Sprouts revisited.

Different day today. Dropping THG off at the stayshun then going foraging as I’ll be fending for myself for a couple of days. See what’s fresh in the market. Sokay I’ve done it before. Don’t fret, pet. Won’t be anything out of the ordinary. Maybe a nice quinoa and lentil salad.

Unsurprisingly after my recent post on the subject Facebook is pushing me offers on Nordic socks. Forty quid for five pairs or buy two get one free. So for eighty pounds I get fifteen really warm pairs of socks. Problem is I don’t need fifteen pairs. I don’t need any more pairs as we keep finding the lost singles 😀. Problems problems.

I did the other day make a purchase: “This small corner: A history of Pencader and district by Steve Dube. The definitive and fully illustrated history of this north Carmarthenshire village, including the neighbouring settlements of Llanfihangel ar Arth, New Inn and Gwyddgrug.”

Exciting. I am specifically interested in Llanfihangel ar Arth whence came two of  my 4g grandparents. Doubt they get a mention but am hoping it will be a good read. Arrives tomorrow or Friday, hopefully before I set off for London.

I have several lines of enquiry I am currently pursuing, albeit slowly, in my hunt for my 5g grandparents. 4gs Daniel and Anne Davies’s wedding was witnessed by a Benjamin Davies. Must be a good clue but not definitive proof. 

Dan’s brother David was Rector of Llandysul church and a few outlying places of worship. As part of the established church there must be some record about him somewhere. Need to find it. I have his will which is v interesting. He owned a house in Llandysul which is not an insignificant achievement in the eighteenth century.

Then Daniel’s farm Talgoed was rented from the Coedmor Estate, the records of which, or at least some of them, are lodged with the National Library of Wales. I need to check those out. There was another brother who went to the Unitarian College in Brecon. That may be a useful lead. All the brothers were literate.

Although these people were Davieses I got to them via my 3g grandmother Margaret who married an Evans and whose daughter Mary proceeded to marry a Benjamin Davies. Ben was the farmer who became a woollen factory owner and is a line I have as yet not had time to explore further.

Plenty to be getting on with but trawling through online records is like wading through treacle. 

Luxuriating in the company of THG in the snug. She sews and I type. All is calm. All is quiet. The all is calm bit somehow feels like we are embedded in a Christmas carol. Outside the snow falls steadily muffling any sound. The wind has dropped. Very soon the front door will become impassable.

None of that is the case. It very rarely snows in Lincoln. Not even when I was a boy, a time where nostalgia played tricks on the memory. The good old days when Wales always won at rugby and I had a thirteen golf handicap.

It is the calm before the storm. Lincoln City v Northampton. Seven forty five. Quite late kickoffs these midweek games. Don’t they know people have to go to work in the morning. Some of em anyway. 

I prefer to watch the game and heave myself upstairs to bed immediately after the final whistle. No trudging home through the red bricked terraces of downhill Lincoln then a climb up the Lincoln edge, ie Lindum Hill, to Wragby Road. I am not a diehard fan. They are however our local side and as such deserve support. Cha cha cha.

Tomorrow night, when THG is in Liverpool it will be Liverpool v Brighton. Or Brighton v Liverpool. Not looked.

It is very nice when you can luxuriate in someone’s company. On this occasion it won’t last long as THG is off out to a body pump class. Worrawoman. I can almost hear the music thumping, banging out time. Synchronised weight lifting. Focus. Concentration. Perspiration.

Fifth cup of tea of the day. After lunch. Two before breakfast, one after breakfast and one slightly later on in the shed. I take it with me. One more may well get consumed but that feels as if that is it.

So I’ve just worked out that I typically drink six cups of tea a day. I only have a coffee perhaps once a month. Twice at the most.

At the weekend I may have a gin and tonic or three before dinner. Sometimes wine but I have to feel brave in the face of THG’s disapproving gaze to open a bottle. Sometimes I’ll do gin during the week. There isn’t a standard practice. I did open a bottle of red on Saturday night to have with the steak. Will finish it off tomorrow when she has gone to the Wirral.

Last year as we moved into deepest winter and my feet decided it would make sense to have some warm woollen coverings I took the plunge and invested in ten pairs of Nordic socks.

I was promised comfort and high quality, beautiful Scandinavian design and exceptional warmth from Luxurious Scandinavian-Patterned Merino Wool Socks. Yanow what? They delivered. The socks are indeed warm and comfortable and whilst they have an element of man made yarn, that serves to make them more robust and easier to stretch over my feet when putting on. This is in contrast to my artisan wool socks that are always a bit of an effort to get over the foot! Anyway that is detail, none of which is relevant to the line being pursued here.

For the last week or three I have been wearing the aforementioned Nordic socks but couldn’t quite lay my hands on ten pairs. In fact three pairs seemed to represent peak sock shelf occupancy. I did have one single whose mate was undiscoverable regardless of how often I would rummage at the back of the shelf looking.

I mentioned the orphan sock to THG who produced five singles from the small basket she keeps somewhere knowing that one day each individual would eventually find its mate. One of these socks matched my single but this then produced a dilemma. Where on earth were the other four?

I rummaged further into the sock shelf. This is not as straightforward as you might think because it isn’t just a sock shelf. It is also the repository for underpants and pyjamas so there is quite a bit of gear in there under which a sock may choose to hide. This morning I even found a pair of braces I’d forgotten I had and not worn for decades. On this occasion, as before, I was a luckless rummager.

Now this is not as major a calamity as some of you might be thinking. I am quite happy to wear non matching socks. The other four will someday resurface. Probs. I am however not going to empty the sock/underpants/pyjama shelf just to find them. 

Mind you it does need doing as my rummaging brought to light a fair number of trainer liners in need of matching. Also the summer socks should really be consigned to a separate repository so as not to be a hindrance to their winter cousins as seems they may well be right at this moment.

I feel sure that at the back of the sock shelf, buried right at the bottom, there are four single undiscovered Nordic socks together with two matching pairs, the numbers I need to bring the cohort/school/flock up to its full complement. 

No idea what the collective noun for socks is. Disappointingly there doesn’t appear to be one. How unimaginative.

That feeling when you wake up, open an eye to look at the clock and see that it is telling the right time. I corroborated this with my fitbit. I can’t recall exactly what the time was but I do remember the satisfaction. The little things in life…

Makes me think that perhaps the last few months of having to mentally adjust the time might have been very mildly stressful. Don’t remember this being the case but if the levels of stress were very low they may have had a subliminal effect on me, somehow. 

There were occasions where I wouldn’t bother making that adjustment and would run with the incorrect time on the basis that it didn’t really matter anyway. Oh those carefree days before the clocks went back and I set it correctly.

Perhaps it is about time we bought a new clock for the bedroom. The spec is very simple. It must be easy to use, have good volume control, play Radio 4 in the morning and evening and keep accurate time. Automatic adjustment for daylight savings would also be useful.

The problem is when you look online there are thousands of different clocks available and none of the spiel will tell you whether they reliably stick to the right time. They aren’t going to tell you about that two second drift over six months (four over a year) are they? I dunno.

THG has cautioned me about rushing out to buy a new one especially when the one we already have now tells the right time anyway. Sigh. It’s a good job this isn’t really a big deal innit. Mountains and molehills eh? We don’t get moles in our back garden, touch wood, fingers crossed etc etc.

Outside the leaves still pile up on the greenhouse roof. No point clearing them yet. Still lots left on the trees that will eventually fall and make for more work.

This morning I am not going swimming with THG. Having to wait in for a delivery that has to be signed for. Bit of a nuisance but it is what it is. I originally asked for it to be delivered to our accountants office as I knew there is always a staffed reception. That’s when I discovered that as a registered office they don’t accept parcel deliveries. Ah. Ah well.

No rain forecast this week. Just to let you know. Good time to get those outdoor jobs done. Public service announcement.

Not sure I have any outdoor jobs in mind though I do need to clear the drain/gutter in front of the garage door. Do it every year as it gets filled with leaves. A good source of compost. Lots of worms in there. Mind you it isn’t on the jobs list, yet.

Another week. Another weekend survived. Don’t get me wrong. Weekends are not times where I naturally look back and say phew, made it. We should be glad to wake up and face each new day. Be glad to be alive. Enjoy every moment. Stuff like that.

Today is a grey day. Nowt in the diary. Just checked my emails and the one meeting I had scheduled, for 1pm, looks as if it will only have me there so it ain’t apnin. So that’s another day of family tree research.

Currently I’m going through all the work I did sixteen years ago and firming up on it. This includes uploading birth and marriage certs to the tree on ancestry.co.uk. Only the old data. Not uploading my own birth certificate for example. That would be asking for trouble. Details from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are however useful.

One of the census records I was reading yesterday showed the time when my great great grandfather Benjamin Davies became the master of a small wool factory at Abersannan and subsequent census show him moving to another mill at Birds Hill/Rhiwadar. The last one in the family, Maesdulais, was owned by my great grandfather so things must have gone well.

That was on dad’s dad side of the family. My dad’s mam’s side, came from the direction of Swansea. Her father John Lewis became the mining engineer that sank the pit at Blaenhirwaun opposite my grandmother’s house. All interesting stuff.

My main focus right now is finding my 5g grandparents. The trail is cold but I do have some clues to run with.

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Left the heating on in the shed overnight which I don’t normally do so this morning it is suitably cosy. The cosiness of the shed. Sheds are either cosy places or cold and draughty. Mine is cosy.

Currently I’m playing a spot of Jules Massenet. La Vierge. Never eard of Jules before I looked on the ‘now playing’ line on Spotify. It’s in a Calming Classical playlist put together presumably by a machine. Our lives are increasingly being controlled by machines.

The deck in front of the shed is covered yet again with leaves of varying hues of brown. It actually looks quite picturesque although probably lethal to the unwary walker. Stride not carelessly to the shed but cautiously. Slip not. Not slip knot which is a different thing. I have slipped but know not how to tie a slip knot. Could look it up I suppose.

Our Disney + subscription came in the post over the weekend. Electronic post. This is not something high on my list to watch but it came free with our Lloyds Bank account and was the best of a not particularly interesting list of benefits we had to choose from. There is a Beatles documentary I will watch at some point. Before we go and see Macca in Manchester in December.

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Made a bit of progress behind the shed/greenhouse this morning. A rodent (ie rat) had been getting into the compost bin which normally would be full of worms and invertebrates at the top but I suspect it has eaten them all. Properly closed off the bottom so unless it is still in there it won’t be able to use the same route again. Don’t think it hangs around in there. Nothing gets chucked in the compost that should attract them as far as I am aware. eg no eggshells.

Then I pulled out an old armoured cable that had served the deck lights and water feature in the pre shed days. A job that’s been needed doing for a while. Five years! Little by little. Bit by bit. At some stage I’ll tidy up the ducting and remaining cable.

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I have a list of vicars of St Michael’s church Llanfihangel ar Arth dating back to the year 1660 is anyone is interested. The church is a lot older than that, predating the Norman conquest, but it is what it is. Unfortunately what I really need is the register of births from the mid 1700s but the earliest they have is 1787.

Vicars of Llanfihangel ar arth:

1660 OWEN JONES
1661 GRIFFIN JONES 
1669 MAURICE MEREDITH 
1688 DAVID PARRY  
1707 JOHN COBNER
1730 JOSHUA JONES 
1753 DAVID HUGHES
1787 METHUSALEM WILLIAMS
1818 THOMAS LEWES 
1850 JOHN EDWARDS
1860 EVAN JONES 
1875 JAMES JONES 
1887 JOHN THOMAS HUGHES 
1931 DANIEL EVANS 
1958 JOHN OLIVER EVANS 
1984 GUY MAXWELL LYON EVANS 
1992 JOHN HUGH ALEXANDER JAMES 
2006 BRONWEN DORIS TIMOTHY

Yay it’s a Sunday. Have to own up though. Totes missed the start of the Sunday service. BBC Radio 4. Bugger. Could switch it on now but am already up. We will never know whether it was a thumbs up or a thumbs down. Old fashioned soporific background ‘listening’ or happy clappy. Or high pitched tinny voices. Don’t do it for me.

Anyway tis a bright sunny Sunday out there. Not a time to lie in bed. We already got the extra hour and actually woke up naturally at seven thirty, nay six thirty. Our bedside clock is ancient. As such it doesn’t change time automatically when the clocks change but also gains a minute every three months. I usually correct the time when I flick the switch on the BST/GMT change but didn’t last spring so now it is four minutes fast. Today is the day it gets reset. Keep meaning to buy a new clock.

I do like being back in GMT. Feels right. We don’t need daylight savings. When you visit the Greenwich Observatory and straddle the Prime Meridian it feels right that it is GMT. The rest of the world isn’t interested in measuring their own time zone as a number of hours away from BST are you? Well I’m certainly not.

As I write the dishwasher is being loaded. I was going to say quietly loaded but you can’t load a dishwasher quietly, apaz. Well I certainly can’t. Nobody in our house. Why would you even bother trying?

Today would be a natural day to light the fire. There is a goodly pile of logs in the basket by the fireplace and a trugload of kindling undercover in the wood store at the bottom of the garden. However we are off out this pm so not worth it. There will be another time. Our front room is the perfect size for the fireplace. Warms up very nicely when the fire is lit. In December we have a carol singing party and have to stop feeding the fire after a certain time as it gets too hot with a room full of carol singers.

All is now quiet. THG is busy upstairs getting ready for church and I am not. I’m looking out through the conservatory doors. I see the electric piano and a saxophone, on the chair in the corner. Plus snail trails on the window outside the conservatory. The window cleaner will be along in due course. 

I also see the low sun shining through the leaf covered greenhouse roof. The window cleaner also cleans the greenhouse glass before the start of each growing season and once a year clears out our gutters. Must be about now that he does this. I’ll remind him next time I see him. He has to bring different ladders to do the gutters. No way I’m going up there.

With the clocks going back it certainly does feel as if we have extra time to do stuff today. Not that I have anything on the agenda. Problem is I have a lot of spare time all the time. I am sort of getting going on the book but need to double down on this. Maybe this week is it. Especially as THG is off to Liverpool on Wednesday. We are then both in London for the weekend. Laaandan. Hoping to get some trefbash cocktail testing in at the Phoenix Arts Club. Changing the cocktail options this year to reflect the tropical theme. @Mark you will likely approve #IthinkyouknowwhatImtalkingabout.

It’s a bit annoying. Every time I open a new doc, which is every morning to start writing this stuff a side pane opens to “make it easy for me to add tabs”. Finally googled this to see how I can get rid but google, seemingly proudly, tells me it is a brand new feature made available to all ‘workspace’ users to make their writing life better. Sigh. I now have to close the side pane every time I start a new doc. It hasn’t made my life better and google didn’t ask me whether I wanted this ‘benefit’ or not.

Sorry for the downbeat opening. On the plus side it looks quite bright out there to the point where I know THG will shortly appear and ask me whether we really need the lights on in the kitchen 🙂It’s alright for her. She will be off out to the Park Run shortly. It being a Saturday.

A full cafetiere of cawfee has just been plunged in front of my very eyes. I was staring at it thinking ‘that cafetiere has not been plunged’ when in to the kitch she strode and did the biz. She will have eaten breakfast a while back, the runner that she is. Proud of her.

I’ve started a shopping list. I operate an ongoing online shopping list where I just add a new date and items to the top of the page. Similar to my jobs list. At the end of the year it is a historical record of things I’ve purchaysed and jobs done, ish. Anyway all the shopping list currently has on it is custard and avocado. They are for separate uses. Custard doesn’t usually get served with avocado. Not in my book anyway.

A fresh pot of tea appears, as if by magic. Another leaf falls in the garden. Bird flies past the window. Didn’t quite catch the model/brand/make/breed/species. Decide for yourself. THG exits to the front of the house.

I quite like Saturday mornings. Even less time pressure than normal. Imagine as sitch where it doesn’t matter what you do or when you do it. Where you don’t have to be anywhere in particular to do anything, in particular. That is today. Nowt in the diary. A gentle stroll to a local market planned to buy custard and avocado. Perhaps a cawfee. That is today.

I do note that we have no mushrooms. I may add them to the shopping list but breakfast will have to be mushroomless. Mushlessroom. Lessroommush.See what I did there?

Some of my friends are making their way to Prague for the RIPE 89 meeting. Others I see have jetted off to the US of A. Bit of winter sun perhaps. Autumn sun at the very least. Our next jaunt will be to Bexleyheath, whichis for another day. 

Although I’ve been starting to get my brain round our next big overseas trip I’m not totes convinced I want to go. Trouble is there are places I have never been. The Antipodes for example or Hawaii. Do I want to go there badly enough to have to sit in an aeroplane for hours on end and then suffer with jetlag for a few days. The jury is still out. Most people have never been to the Antipodes or Hawaii so that isn’t really a biggie. I’ve never been to Aberdeen either. Actually there are lots of places I’ve never been.

Time will tell. I do quite like planning these trips. 

In the meantime I’m in the middle of sorting out the finishing touches for trefbash (tropical). These things don’t just happen yanow. Cocktail tastings to be arranged, accessories to order, playlist to finish. Stuff like that. Shirt to sort!

There is also the vexed question of breakfast. It isn’t really a vexed question, unless you consider the absence of mushrooms to be vexatious. That just rolled off the tongue. I do have sausage, bacon, tomayto and egg to play with together with sourdough. Twillsuffice. I did toy with the idea of potato rosti but decided against. More because it’s a bit more hassle than any other reason. Another time.

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.