where art collides philosoperontap

A simple breakfast. Bacon sandwich (rubbishy sliced white bread and HP sauce), some nice sourdough toast and a pink grapefruit to finish off. I think I prefer the yellow fleshed variety as it seems to be tarter. Unfortunately my grapefruit spoon is still en route from China so didn’t get to use one. All the sharp paring knives seemed to be in the dishwasher and the one I used was a bit on the blunt side but we managed to muddle on through 🙂

Hang on a minute. This post seems to be all about food. So far anyway. There must be other things in life. Wars, revolutions, poverty, recessions, breakthroughs in technology, great achievements, love, battles against disease, sport, family, funny things that make you laugh out loud, inner peace, etc etc.

Meeting @Chris Weston for cawfee in Waitrose this morning. Probs a bit of cayke an all. Push the boat out. Then for lunch I’m having a cheese and onion crisp sandwich and tonight will be a few salady bits, cheeses, meats, small spuds, stuff like that. Plus a glass of red wine.

Hang on a minute. This post seems to be all about food. So far anyway. There must be other things in life. Wars, revolutions, poverty, recessions, breakthroughs in technology, great achievements, love, battles against disease, sport, family, funny things that make you laugh out loud, inner peace, etc etc.

I’m not sure I have a favourite food. It’s different foods for different moods. Sometimes I’ll think hmm it’s ages since I had a good curry, or a steak and chips. At the end of the summer we said it had been ages since we had a good Sunday roast. Picking up some ribs of beef and a turkey crown from Fosters on Monday 23rd. 

Hang on a minute. This post seems to be all about food. So far anyway. There must be other things in life. Wars, revolutions, poverty, recessions, breakthroughs in technology, great achievements, love, battles against disease, sport, family, funny things that make you laugh out loud, inner peace, etc etc.

I’ve already shared the menu for trefbash. There will be other meals. During our annual pub crawl in York which is next week we typically grab something from the Christmas market whilst on the hoof or there is one pub that does pizzas.

Hang on a minute. This post seems to be all about food. So far anyway. There must be other things in life. Wars, revolutions, poverty, recessions, breakthroughs in technology, great achievements, love, battles against disease, sport, family, funny things that make you laugh out loud, inner peace, etc etc. You can add your own.

It’s my 63rd birthday today. Yesterday I was only 62. Doesn’t feel as if it is a big step. A relatively small increment percentagewise. Now only four years before I can pick up my pension. Seems a long time away. It wasn’t so long ago when the retirement age was 65 which seems far more sensible to me.

At the tender age of 63 if I actually had to work until I was 67 it would feel tough. It’s difficult to motivate yourself to get out of bed to go to work at this age. Is for me anyway. Fortunately I don’t have to.

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Dyaknow I didn’t have lunch until almost three o’clock. Wossthatallabouteh? 

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The witching hour is nearly upon us. Actually I’ve just looked it up and I am wrong. Definitions vary, and include the hour immediately after midnight and the time between 3:00 am and 4:00 am. So it isn’t anywhere nearly the witching hour, yet. It’s five to four in the afternoon and the light is fading.

The mood lighting is on in the shed but the shed is quiet. Not as silent as the grave but quite quiet. The heater panel occasionally emits a sound as does the fridge. Both giving off heat as it happens. One to cool the beer and one to heat the room. The cooling of the beer also helps heat the room though not very much.

THG called and is bringing a cup of tea down to the shed. Up the garden path, as it were. That doesn’t sound right. If it is down to the shed then down the garden path would have been more accurate. However, saying “up the garden path” sounds better, to me anyway. Physically the shed is slightly down from the house. Anyway I digress, from something.

Am on a roll with the useful phrases here inneye. There are loads of other good ones that one might slip into conversation. Dead men tell no tales, for example. I’d have to think where I could slip that one in but doable I daresay. Not today though. Too busy drinking my cup of tea.

It is too early to start on the g&t even if it is my birthday. Dark out though. The sun is over the yardarm. There’s another one!

A good start to Christmas last night with our annual carol singsong.  Slightly fuzzy bonce this morning. Will be arite. Absolutely pelting it down outside. Darragh still going strong. Doing his business. I doan mind. Our rain defences are holding. The roof. The levee.

THG was up early to take surprise visitor Joe to the station. He hadn’t told us he was coming. Great stuff. The only missing offspring was John who lives in Berlin. That’s a bit far to come for a surprise visit.

The family once threw a surprise 80th birthday party for one of THG’s aunties. People gathered in a hotel in Liverpool coming from as far as Lincoln and the USA. The auntie was totally gobsmacked. The occasion was for her tinged with an element of disappointment. She said she would like to have known it was happening so that she could have looked forward to it. A lesson there perhaps.

Our house is busy this morning. Tom’s pals have rocked up having been kicked out of their hotel. THG is now feeding them in the kitchen. It’s amazing how quickly the food supplies go down when you have a house full of hungry adults especially when they are working off all last night’s booze. We have a dustbin full of empties by the front door. At some stage I will have the satisfaction of tipping it all into the recycling bin. 

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A cosy sit in front of the fire kind of afternoon. Rain lashing down on the windows. THG  finishing off writing Christmas cards. Done all mine but she has more to do. Frens & relashuns. There is no telly in this room. You don’t need one when you have a fire. Entertainment enough although on this occasion I’m watching a bit of footy on my Macbook. Unobtrusive. An occasional exchange of words with ma gal. It’s nice to have a full house but also nice when we have it back to ourselves again. Starting to get dark out. Not a place to be. Deepest midwinter. Wild night. Busy week ahead. 4 sleeps til trefbash.

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Interesting how Facebook throws friend suggestions at me. Some of them have no mutual friends and others quite a few. The common theme is that generally I have no idea who they are. All these people are real, I assume. They have lives, loves maybe, jobs, hobbies, favourite foods, they go on holiday somewhere. Maybe they have a special talent. I’ll never know. 

There are only so many people you can interact with.

Storm Darragh is a blowing in. He is planning on doing so anyway. I checked the BBC weather app, which I’m not sure I realised I had until a link on the BBC news app took me there.

In the next hour Lincoln is expecting light rain and a fresh breeze. Pwllheli however is currently being battered by severe gales and heavy rain. Apaz we are in the eye, of the storm, hence the relative calm. 

In Cardiff I happen to know they are canceling Christmas craft markets. I heard it from my sister Sue and on the BBC news on the wireless. Sounds like Wales is cut off. Both Severn bridges closed and all flights into Cardiff airport cancelled. There might be a back road or two still open but drive carefully (through Caerphilly) and look out for falling trees. Doubt there will be ferries from Fishguard today. The Cardiff bound 06.36 out of Bridgend was cancelled causing enormous disruption. I looked on realtimetrains.co.uk. It didn’t mention the enormous disruption bit. I added that in for effect. All domestic football and rugby matches are off. Strong winds make kicking the ball v difficult even if one of your mates puts his finger on the top of it to hold it still.

The falling trees, drift by my window. A topical variant on a popular song.

Stay safe, stay indoors, stay under the duvet. End of weather bulletin. 

Food for Free by Richard Mabey

The holly and the ivy

The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.

The rising of the sun,
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the choir.

The holly bears a blossom
As white as the lily flower,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,
To be our sweet Saviour.

The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good.

The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas Day in the morn.

The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall,
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.

The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.

…

Dunno about you but I go through phases of which room I sit in to drink a post breakfast cup of tea. It doesn’t appear to be day of the week dependent but there is an element of seasonality to it. Currently I use the snug. The only reason I can think of is that it must be marginally warmer than the living room which has the conservatory attached.

Today we have visitors arriving from Laandaan. I don’t think any of them pronounce it like that but that is how it is sbelled. Their train is running late because the inbound train from Leeds was 59 minutes late. One more minute and everyone would have got all their money back instead of just the half you get when it’s 30 minutes late.

Fortunately that 59 minutes won’t knock on to a similar delay on the Lincoln train as the expected arrival time from Leeds was 08.50 cf scheduled departure to Lincoln of 10.06. I think we all would rather get there on time than take the delay repay refund. Innit.

Wood brought in from the log store. I uncovered quite a few nice sized bits that meant I didn’t need to get the axe out. Next job is to light the fire, baby, which I will do once I’ve finished this cup of tea. I’ll need to take the coat stand in from the shed as THG has requested it as expansion hanging space for guest coats tonight. 

Life is good. Read all about it, read all about it.

…

A few people posting pics from the champagne bar at St Pancras. Quite a few years ago I took some customers out to lunch at Claridges and afterwards we had a bit of time to kill before the train back north so we stopped by the champagne bar.

The following week one of the guys, Barry, was meeting an old flame he hadn’t seen in 35 years and taking her out to dinner and the theatre “for old times sake”. She was a dentist fwiw. He had a word with one of the barmen and arranged to reserve a table and have a bottle of champagne and a dozen oysters delivered when they arrived.

One week later and Barry and the old flame rock up at the bar at which point the barman says he has reserved the “usual” table. The two sat down and the barman then said shall I bring the usual? That’ll be fine thanks sez Baz.

Barry then excuses himself to go to the loo at which point the old flame asked the barman whether the lad went there often. Once or twice said the barman, quite truthfully without elaboration. Discretion is essential in his line of business.

When Barry got back to the table she asked him the same question. Do you come here often? Once or twice said Barry with a smile. You couldn’t make it up.

Barry related this tale to me a couple of weeks later at a trefbash and the following year he brought the old flame along to the bash as well. I pried no further…

Ten fifteen. Work finished for the day. Well it is Friday. I try not to do anything on Fridays anyway especially the day after the annual end of season golf day out. Numbers out on the course were down a bit this year but we had a good turnout for dinner at the nineteenth hole (The Woodcocks) and afterwards at the Castle Hill Club where the ladies came to join us.

I have a busyish day ahead. Mostly shopping for our annual Not The Christmas Market Party and picking up my new shirt wot I had made for trefbash. Most of the booze is just a click and collect job from Tesco but I need to pick up some supplies from Fosters and have a relaxing browse around Waitrose. Ya never know. Something might tickle my fancy for dindins tonight. I have a chicken jalfrezi in the fridge as a backup.

…

Had a minor issue at the click and collect. After I’d emptied about ten blue boxes into the car (not having done it since lockdown I hadn’t realised you had to bring bags) I tried carefully to stack the boxes on the trolley thing in order to return them to the store entrance. Course the trolley wheels hit a drain grating and the blue boxes went flying didn’t they?

It was only after I’d reloaded the trolley and rolled it over to the door that I saw that the boxes actually stacked neatly inside each other doh! Ah well it will be useful to know for the next time I do a click and collect, in another year probs. Or more.

…

THG just informed me she blew thirty four quid on forty second class stamps and fourteen pounds on sending a few Christmas cards to the USA and Yoorp. It’s no wonder people are cutting back on sending cards at this time of the year. Actually I have no evidence on which to base that last statement but it sounds right.

You can just imagine people complaining. Oh no the bloomin Davieses have sent us a card. Quick, we’d better send them one back. If there is still time… 🙂

…

Brought the kindling in to dry out. Will be lighting the fire tomorrow. When I did this last week it took ages for the kindling to catch alight despite having kept it under the roof of the woodstore. It must have been quite damp. Will probs buy some more coal when out and about. We have loads of logs but they aren’t as hot as coal. More atmospheric though. It’s all about striking a balance.

I need to take an axe to some of the logs we have at the bottom of the garden. See how I feel about it tomorrow. There is something quite satisfying about splitting logs. It’s one of those time immemorial jobs. You can imagine Davies ancestors putting in some time out the back of the farmhouse working on the logpile. They won’t have had a chainsaw to trim the larger logs into more sensible sizes. Using that old fashioned saw would have been hard work. Maybe we are all just wimps nowadays.

Next up O dawel ddinas Bethlehem (o dan y sêr di ri)

O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee to-night.

O morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.
For Christ is born of Mary,
And gathered all above,
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.

How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.

Where children pure and happy
Pray to the blessed Child;
Where misery cries out to thee,
Son of the mother mild;
Where Charity stands watching
And Faith holds wide the door
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks,
And Christmas comes once more.

O holy Child of Bethlehem!
Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin and enter in,
Be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
Our Lord Emmanuel!

If it’s Wednesday it must be, the same as Tuesday. Not much of interest in the news. Another day older. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Watching the clock, hypnotic trance. Hit snooze to hibernate. 

BRRRRRRRRRRR good morning. That was an alarm, not a suggestion it is cold. It is not cold, afaik. 

I remember the first winter after I finished university. 1983. I wasn’t in a hurry to find a job and had an attic flat in Bangor. We rarely had the heating on as it cost money and I remember lying in bed one early morning with just my nose and mouth poking out from under the duvet. It was very cold and my breath froze. Remember it like it was yesterday. Forty one years ago.

Must eventually have forced myself out of bed and gone to visit a friend who might have had the heating on. Or cuddled up.

I think in those days the electricity meter took fifty pences. It might have been a pound. Imagine if it was still the same in 2024. Someone from the electricity company would have to come and empty it once a day, at least. By the time I left Bangor a pint of lager would have cost 50p. Halcyon days except I wouldn’t have had many fifty pees to my name. I was poor.

It got to the point where I reluctantly had to accept a job. With a degree in electronic engineering it was easy enough. That year GEC Marconi alone had enough vacancies to take on every UK engineering graduate.

Used to be that the post would have already arrived by the time we got up for breakfast. This I observed in conversation with THG this morning. Them were the days. Mind you it was almost certainly always a bill. People did write to each other I suppose. Occasionally, in the days before mobile phones. 

At university the only means for a parent to contact an offspring was either to write or to ring the one phone in the hall of residence. This was a hit and miss affair. In the evenings the phone was almost certainly busy with little Idwal or Sian dutifully calling home. If it wasn’t in use then you had to rely on a passing student to answer it. This was not as straightforward as you might think because the altruistic act of answering would almost certainly result in you having to go off and find the student being called. Sigh, urgh, no that’s okay Mrs Jones. Dim problem or dim problemo as it might be in these days of language evolution 🙂. Revolution.

I think I probably rang once a week. Sunday evening maybe. Probs. Dutiful Tref. Sunday was the only evening we were not out in the pub. Maybs.

You would think that the advent of social media might make it easier for parents to keep in touch with kids whilst away at university. Our kids don’t use the same platforms as their parents, ie Facebook. WhatsApp does work.

We now have a variety of WhatsApp groups tailored to each kid. Each one of them has a kidmumdad group and I have a daviesmen group for when we talk cricket n stuff. I daresay the kids have a davieskids group for when they want to discuss their parents. What to get us for Christmas etc I’m sure. Or gawd have you seen what dad’s done now?! We also have a family group natch and an extended family group. All good stuff. Hard to keep track and sometimes very easy to post something in the wrong group. 21st century world problems.

Looking out of the kitchen window the sun is trying to climb over the garden fence. It looks cold out. Feels like 2 degrees Celsius I’m told. Cold enough.

…

At my desk in the shed by ten past nine. Very slippery deck so watch out folks. I’ve now positioned the rubber mat in the middle of it. It is the one that used to be just outside the door but was removed when I applied the decking preservative during the summer and never replaced. Need a couple more mats really to get maximum anti-slip coverage.

In the shed I am now streaming Handle’s Messiah. Two hours and twenty minutes of non stop entertainment. Sir Neville Marriner with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields. I’ve been there. It has been a long time since it was surrounded by fields. Now it is just tourists, taxis and double decker buses. Didn’t realise Marriner had two rs.

Dad always used to put the Messiah on the record player every Christmas morning. Huddersfield Chorale. Must have been the best arias and choruses as you can’t get two hours and twenty minutes on two sides of vinyl. Nor 12 inch anyway and they don’t make 40 inch LPs obvs. This may not be obvious if you are a visitor from another planet but I can categorically tell you that neither any of my Facebook pals nor readers of philosopherontap are such individuals. Well…

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An appropriate chunky beef and vegetable soup for lunch with a hunk of sourdough, some strong cheddar cheese and a spicy pickled onion created a year or two ago by yours truly. It’s gone misty out there. Not nice.

Made some slow but good progress with the family tree research. We had a farm called Talgoed on a hill next to the Tyweli river. I visited it maybe fourteen years ago and had a nice chat with the then owner who mentioned that the older farmhouse from my gggg grandfather Daniel’s day (1766 – 1843) was actually a small derelict building at the bottom of the hill next to the road (track) and river.

This time round I’ve been doing some research and discovered that in fact the building on the hill looks like the original and the one at the bottom might well have been built to accommodate David, the younger of Daniel’s two sons with the older John taking the main farm.

Neither sons were at the farm during the 1841 census. I guess they may have gone to work elsewhere or had perhaps just been away at the time. The confusing thing is that Talgoed became Talgoed Uchaf (upper) and Talgoed Isaf (lower). The upper farm is actually physically the lower down one according to two different maps of the time. The confusion may well have arisen from the fact that the entrance to Talgoed Isaf, the main farm, looks as if it was slightly lower and along a bit from Uchaf.

The Talgoed of today has a separate access road that avoids having to traverse the farm and is not a working farm anymore. Talgoed Uchaf is either no longer there or has been renamed Argoed, a dwelling with a visible name on Google street view. There is evidence of a derelict old stone building on the site which could well be Talgoed Uchaf.

Various censuses suggest that John and David each had 80 acres which perhaps suggests that the Talgoed of Daniel Davies had a not insubstantial 160 acres. It may however have been the case that they shared the 80 acre farm. I’ll have to dig into it. My only way of finding out here is to look at the records of the Coedmore Estate. The Davieses at the time were tenant farmers. The records are in the National Library of Wales which will be a road trip.

Their sister Margaret, from whom I was derived, was the oldest sibling and married a farmer named John Evans at Pantyffynnon just over the hill, a mile or so through the fields. Her daughter Mary married Benjamin Davies of Cwmduad which is how I came to have that surname. Pantyffynnon is still a farm today and the farmer is a Davies. I will have to look him up when I visit the area.

That Margaret married such a close neighbour shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. It was probably the norm in those days although people seemed to travel a fair way to attend church, particularly for those of a dissenting persuasion (we were Baptists) who might not have had as many options in the early days of the reformation.

More as the story unfolds. It isn’t going to be quick but needs doing.

Chicken dinner, chicken dinner, chicken and leek pie. It died that we may eat three meals although not sure how much chicken will be left for the pie. Twillbfine. 

In other news I have to tell you that Waitrose does not sell cheesy balls. Wot! Why is this? Are cheesy balls considered to be too down market? Tesco (maybe there’s yer answer) has three offers in that line including something called “free from cheese flavour balls”. Yuk. Mind you I daresay the actual cheesy balls have never seen an udder. Udderly cheesy flavouring.

I’ll be buying my cheesy balls this year from Tesco. We are due a big shop, mainly festive booze, and I will be checking prices online before deciding what to buy where. Except cheesy balls obvs. I doubt there will be that much price difference but ya never know.

Waitrose does sell Essential Cheese Puffs at £1.10 for a 100g bag. Well firstly cheese puffs are not cheese balls and the bags aren’t big enough. Tesco sells 300g at £1.75. We are after volume here. Mind you I may buy a bag of each just as a comparison taste test. Makes sense to me. 

Cheesy balls have never really been the same ever since I moved from the rose tinted memory filled childhood phase of life to the harsh reality of adulthood. They taste crappy but we still buy em. They do come with the benefit of being easier to chuck in the air to be caught in the mouth which is nigh on impossible with cheese puffs whose aerodynamic properties are totally inadequate. 

That is all I have to say on the subject, for the moment…

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It’s one of those calmish December afternoons. At three thirty the sun is desperately trying to slip over the horizon. The bar lights are on in the shed. They provide a bit of atmo. This doesn’t mean the bar is open although if someone happened by on a social call there are refreshments in the fridge. I have made a pot of tea. That’s not in the fridge, obvs.

There is beer but don’t particularly drink it that often. I’ll have the occasional tonic and gin. On occasion. I took the bottle of Leffe out. Don’t like the stuff. Someone must have brought it along on one of my occasional gentlemen’s get togethers in the shed. Not had one for a while. A get together that is. Maybs over Christmas.

All is quiet. I spent the afternoon reading History of Carmarthenshire Vol 2. At least the bits about church history. Nothing in there of particular interest although it is all good background reading. I was half tempted to buy the same volume for Cardigan but looking at the index it seemed to have even less material of relevance.

I bought the two volume Carmarthenshire set in the antiquarian bookshop in Carmarthen a few years back. It’s been on the shelf in the snug as a curiosity. It’s a first edition from February 1939. Only now being read, by me at least. I have the modern paperback version of Vol 1 but they don’t seem to have published Vol 2 like that. Probably only published one edition of the hardback. Dunno.

At four o’clock it is getting dark. Just over a fortnight to the winter solstice. A time we should be dancing around the fire pit and roasting a wild boar whilst drinking lots of mead or whatever they did in those days. Don’t like mead meself. I’m sure they had other hoochy options.

At four thirty it is dark. Shut the curtains and bolt the front door. There are monsters out there. We have plans for the evening. A repeat of Sunday’s chicken dinner with leftovers then watch the mighty Imps playing away at Rotherham. Almost a local derby.

I once played against Dinnington RFC in the Rotherham area. It was a bloomin cold day with freezing fog and in the days before sat nav we really struggled to find the place. None of us really wanted to play but hey, a commitment is a commitment. The game is the game. 

Anyway we changed and ran out onto the pitch and waited for the opposition to arrive. It was so foggy that the only way you could see both sets of posts was by standing on the half way line. We were on the verge of going back in to wait when we realised they were already on the pitch. Don’t remember the score (conveniently probaby) but I seem to recall enjoying a good pie and peas supper after the game. I’m sure I’ve told you this before but it is a good story 🙂

It is now ok to start thinking about Christmas, it being Monday 2nd December (2024). In an ideal world I wouldn’t give it any thought until the week before the festival but let’s be realistic here. Not only will we all be carried along on the hype which is now in full swing but actually I like the run up to Christmas.

If Christmas has a feelgood factor to it why not have that good feeling for the whole month. In reality it is only just over three weeks anyway.

It is my job to get the tree. This year it is made somewhat harder by the fact that I no longer have a car. The Land Rover Defender was the perfect vehicle for picking up a Christmas tree. It almost didn’t matter how big the tree was, we would get it in the back. 

Now, with only THG’s little Peugeot to transport it the sitch is a little different. We will need a seven footer, Norway Spruce. I’m going to take a tape measure to the car but I may need it delivering which I believe you do @William Rose (I’ll get in touch). Probably on Tuesday 16th. Don’t want it too soon. Apart from anything we are full on before then with not much time to spare for decorating.

My job is just to get the tree to the house and erected in its stand. I also have to get the decs down from the garage. Everything else is taken care of. It is a good system.

The festivities start this coming weekend with our annual Christmas carol singsong. We’ve held this for over thirty years. It used to be billed as the Christmas Market Party timed to coincide with the event of the same name in Lincoln. Since the city council in its infinite lack of wisdom chose to end the massively popular market that attracted a quarter of a million people each year and brought in a lot of money to local entities such as schools, sporting clubs and the Scouts we can no longer call it by the same name.

Last year was the first time we didn’t hold the singsong since its inception. I can’t remember exactly when it started. Was defo before 1992 as I remember that year I was in Anything Goes at the Theatre Royal and the cast came along for the party. Probably the best singing we’ve had. CAODS. This year it is back as the Not The Christmas Market Party. I need to get some supplies in this week. Refreshments.

Then it’s my birthday. Same date as Donny Osmond, @John Staz Storey and @Chris Weston. Also the same date as John Smith the erstwhile landlord of the Morning Star who passed away some time ago now. After he had retired, to a bungalow around the corner, I would swing by on our birthday for a chat and a beverage. Gin with a splash of tonic. John knew how to mix a G&T.

No idea what we will do this year. For my 60th birthday the date coincided with a trefbash so I effectively held a little soiree with 200 of my closest pals 🙂Good timing. This year I’ll probably just don a comfy pair of slippers and settle down in my favourite armchair to watch University Challenge with THG. Cocoa anyone?

The kitchen is awash with noise. Kettle boiling drowning out the sound of the Sunday service. The latter is just nice relaxing background music and words anyway. The boiling kettle signifies a second pot of tea in the making. Glug, glug. Glug. Good word, glug. I bet it was one of Shakespeare’s.

No rush to prepare breakfast. A variety of ingredients are available and I am sure that a satisfactory breaking of the fast is in prospect. Bagel is on the menu. I am able bagel. Tinned grapefruit. No preparation required other than opening the tin 🙂.

An organ bashes out a tune unknown. Unrecognisable at least. I can’t imagine they have an organist who isn’t able to play the instrument. Must be based on an actual piece of music. Turns out they were playing us out. Dee dee dee da dee…

Went to see an organist at the Cathedral last summer. He was famous for his improvisation skills. The programme had one ten minute piece of improv. I timed it, partly because I was getting bored with the entertainment. His piece of improvisation lasted thirteen minutes. That’s three minutes longer than billed. I mentioned this to him afterwards. Went right over his head 🙂 

A programme called Point of View has come on. It’s as bad as Thought for the Day. V boring. Sorry love. Monotone delivery. When you think about it the titles mean the same thing. Problem is I can’t be bothered to get up to turn off the wireless. Update, apaz we have to put up with it because Paddy McConnel is up next and THG likes him. Fair enuff.

…

The wireless is off and a cup of tea in hand in the snug. I like to finish off breakfast this way. Call it a routine. At least during the darker months. In spring and summer I tend to sit in the conservatory, sometimes with the doors open. Enjoying the outdoors indoors. Sometimes if it’s warm enough  I’ll even take breakfast out to the patio. Not today. The snug is warmer than the conservatory right now.

This morning the lawn is a lawn of two halves. One half has the leaves cleared and the other hasn’t. Significantly the football that has been there most of the summer is still in the middle of the lawn. Game of two halves. Hasn’t even been rolled by the wind. Hopefully the leaves will stay put until THG gets the rake onto them.

This afternoon we have a plethora of sporting choices to entertain us. The highlight is the key top of the table ish clash between the Peul and Man City followed after dinner by the snooker final. There are a few other games of lesser interest such as Man U v Everton. These bottom half of the table matches are of little interest to the majority other than perhaps as an opportunity to smile condescendingly at the performance of United in a mildly disinterested manner. Bless. An ongoing tale.

This morning I have a couple of jobs to do. I need to stuff the chicken. I am an expert at making stuffing. Then I have a bit of a craft job to do for THG who has made some small decorative Christmas trees but need a base making to enable them to stand up. I am happy to help here. It’s what you do innit. I’ve known the girl for thirty eight years, married for thirty six.

Mind you she does sometimes put highly ambitious things on the jobs list without understanding the implications. I’ll say to her that is a half a day job or a one dayer or it will need two of us as I can’t do that on my own. Or even that is physically impossible or we will have to pay someone to do that. The base for the little Christmas tree provides just the right mix of the amount of time needed and creative input required. 

Plus skill with hand tools. I was, being of an age, going to say “blokey type of things” but actually that would not be right. Our Hannah is impressively skilled with tools and diy. When I was at school boys did woodwork and metalwork and girls did cookery and sewing, or similar. That division of skills has quite properly been cast into the dustbin of history. 

Anyway it is after ten o’clock and I’m not dressed yet. Got a chicken to stuff. Ciao amigos.

Heard on the wireless when switched on this morning. “She is passionate about nature”. I took that to mean she really likes flowers. I certainly do though I wouldn’t describe myself as being passionate about nature. I don’t think I’m passionate about anything. Not particularly anyway. 

It always bemuses me when people describe themselves as passionate. Especially on LinkedIn where folk can apparently be passionate about the most boring work related things. “I’m passionate about dull left handed widget maintenance”. Well good oh. Whatever floats your boat.

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It is a dull looking Saturday out there. This is good. It doesn’t do us any harm to have a dull Saturday. It accentuates the not so dull aspects of your life. Always assuming you have any. Life can’t be totally dull surely. Even repairing a hole in your socks could be something to look forward to, darn it. 

I have a pair of socks that need such treatment. Usually they get thrown, this being a disposable society. I did mention to THG that “we” should think about mending them. Note the “” inverted commas there. That cut no ice with THG. Darn it, again. 

Only joking. Our relationship is not one where she does all the work and I sit on the sofa watching sport. Largely. It’s just that until I get my hip fixed my mobility is somewhat limited. Darning socks would seem to be something I could be getting on with in this case. I’ll have to see if there is a youtube vid on the subject. Bound to be.

Mind you no idea where they are. Probably been washed, dried, paired and stuck back in the cupboard. I’ll only find out which pair has a hole when I put them on again and we enter the whole cycle again. They are almost certainly not a pair of my warm winter socks so it might be next spring before the hole is found again.

I don’t include darning socks as a highlight although I have never tried it so I don’t really know.

May your bacon fat be rendered to perfection and the crusts of your toast be chewy.

The low sun dazzles over the regimented rooftops of London where ranks of terracotta chimney pots line up five abreast and in the distance the tall office blocks of the city climb high amongst the cranes of progress and historic church towers. Down below, wage slaves make their way resolutely by car, bicycle and shanks’ pony to their places of thrall.

At breakfast a couple arrives, deposits a phone and ipad to mark their territory and departs for the buffet.

A young girl with well groomed blonde hair rolls her suitcase by, telling her friend …this morning when I counted how many pairs of knickers I’ve got… The end of the conversation was left unheard. Three of them trundle down the ramp outside my window table bound for destinations unknown.

Plenty of time before I run for a bus. I am catching the ten oh six home. The Arsenal FC under twelve Development Squad queue up for their own team coach.

Great time last night with Colin, Dave and, earlier, Tracey before she had to dash to catch a train to Winchester. The Delhi Brasserie curry house just squeezed us in. At the Phoenix Arts Club we tweaked a few cocktails in preparation for the bash in two weeks time. Less than that now. The club was hosting Meta for its own Christmas party. Where trefbash goes… Christmas parties get earlier every year.

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Back in my cocoon in Coach E seat 2. Banging out some tunes, brain switched off. It is Friday after all. Black Friday. I’ve finished my crumpets and selfishly thinking they need to bring me a cup of tea before serving everyone else their bacon rolls. A fine but cold morning.

The trolley eventually wheels in. A cheery attendant asks if I’d like a drink. Yes please cup of tea white no sugar. Would you like milk with that? Please. Sugar? No thanks. 🙂

A pleasant day ahead. Couple of phone calls to make. THG is out somewhere with some mates. Gotta be done. Lots of water fills the ground in the furrowed fields beyond the borough of Pete.

Now listening to Bob Dylan. Early stuff. Poetic genius. His autobiography is similarly poetic. Prose that rolls effortlessly off the tongue. It’s all about which words you string together in what order. May you stay forever young.

As we approach Grantham it seems to have clouded over. I’m sure this is not a reflection of Grantham though it could be. The place where the sun never shines. Make of that what you will.

Train manager walks up and down, trainee train manager in tow. What do you want to be when you grow up? It’s a job. Great if you’ve always wanted to travel.

Interestingly I just got my hotel bill from last night. Just the room and one pint of beer at £7. There is also a “bar food” line item at £0.88 which just happens to be 12.5% of £7. When I left the bar there was noone to give me anything to sign off so I assumed it would take care of itself. 12.5% looks like a service charge which you normally assume goes to the staff but if it’s down as bar food it is hard to see how that would be the case.

Apple support renewed for the macbook. Nobrainer really. When something goes wrong it is expensive. Cancelled it for the iPad some time ago. Rarely gets used.

Interestingly, I then got an email from Apple telling me that the support had been purchased from a device that has never been used for this purpose. The very same device that the support is for. Nowt so queer as software.

So started the day with a simple bit of sourdough toast with butter and marmalade. Then had another. One piece of toast breaketh not the fast. Won’t keep you going until lunchtime. Two might. Depends how big the piece of toast is I guess. Mine have to be able to fit into the toaster which limits the size. Could do them under the grill like in the old days but toaster is easier. 

It’s a crap toaster though. Mentioned that before. THG has been on at me to let her know what to get me for my upcoming birthday. A serrated grapefruit spoon didn’t seem to keep her happy and they come in packs of six anyway and I only need the one. A new toaster might do the job. However the process of trying to identify a replacement is mind blowing. Every “best toasters” article comes up with different toasters and when you drill down to customer reviews they all have very variable results. I think I’ll just stick to the grill.

…

Nipped out to buy a pork pie for lunch. The simple things in life. Pork pie and English mustard. Moutard Anglaise. Doubt they ever call it that but ya never know. Also a small lump of cheddar and a couple of my home pickled onions. Didn’t need to buy those. Already had them in.

Waitrose was out of Thai Green Curry paste. Must have had a run on it. Maybe there’d been a cookery programme on the telly with a section on how to make thai green curry. Perfectly plausible. You’d think the buyers at Waitrose would keep an eye on the tv listings specifically to anticipate these bursts of demand. Honestly.

Another week in prospect. Bit obvious really isn’t it? I guess it depends when your week starts. There is no real reason why a week can’t start on a Wednesday in which case everyone would be celebrating today saying TGIM. Not me, Jose.

You could also have a rolling start to the week where you work every day or a rolling end of the week where you don’t work at all. Unless you only worked weekends in which case there would be no difference so that one would be a bit pointless. 

You choose. I know which I’d go for. In the meantime we have broken the fast and are about to get on with the day/week/month.

…

I was pondering life the universe and the fact that today is November 25th and it made me wonder whether anything of particular import or interest happened on this day in history. I dare say it’s one or two of you’s birthday but I googled it to find out whether there was anything else.

A few famous people were born and a few died. None of them were of sufficient interest to me to get a mention. In 1120 William the Aetheling, duke of Normandy, was killed in a shipwreck on his way to England. I suppose that’s mildly interesting.

How to eat half a grapefruit. For the purpose of this post it is assumed that the grapefruit has already been cut in half. These instructions are applicable for any type of grapefruit be it yellow, pink or any other sort. Are there other sorts of grapefruit? For those people eating tinned grapefruit the segments have already been removed from the pith/skin/zest/shell and you should refer to separate instructions not supplied herein.

The half a grapefruit should be placed in a low sided bowl. The low sides are important in order for the grapefruit to be easily accessible for eating. A sharp knife should be used to cut around the edge penetrating as far into the core as possible and then the segments should be sliced from the centre out to facilitate easy extraction. It isn’t particularly important that the cuts follow the line of the segments unless you’re a bit anal about this sort of thing which I’m not.

The choice of spoon used in eating half a grapefruit is very personal. Some prefer teaspoons and some dessert spoons. Soup spoons aren’t particularly suitable although if that’s all you have then they may be used. I don’t really mind which I use but dessert spoons do have the advantage of being able to gather more fruit in one go than the humble teaspoon. Wooden spoons should not be used and big serving spoons are hugely over the top – get real.

Once spoon selection has been made there are two other acts of preparation that must be made before the act of eating commences. Wearers of spectacles should remove them and place at a reasonable distance away from the grapefruit bowl. This is to ensure that no grapefruit juice splatters the lenses whilst eating. A spot within easy reach but outside splash range will be fine. Then any other items susceptible to “splash damage” such as this laptop screen should have the lid closed and moved a short distance away, in my case to the left.

You are now ready to eat your grapefruit. Take the chosen spoon and whilst holding the fruit down with one hand scoop out the flesh, working your way around until it has all been eaten. Then the spoon should be used to scrape away the remaining fruit stuck to the sides. 

Once eaten it is perfectly acceptable to remove the shell from the bowl and tip the bowl up so that you can drink the juice that is inevitably left at the bottom. I’m ok with drinking straight out of the bowl but this is somewhat to do with your upbringing. Others might lift their noses up at this and prefer to use a spoon. Personally I think you get more of the juice by drinking directly from the bowl. Sup to you.

Once eaten the grapefruit skin should be placed in the compost bin and the bowl and spoon arranged neatly in your dishwasher.

This is a technique tried and tested over sixty years and has been proven to be very effective. I trust the reader will find these instructions useful and have years of enjoyable grapefruit eating ahead of them.

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Breakfast this morning will be brunch. Having eaten the half grapefruit I am now drinking tea in the snug. All the ingredients for breakfast are out on the butchers block but it is the Sabbath after all and there is no immediate rush. I’ve checked the jobslist and there is nothing particularly immediate or urgent on there. Some of the jobs are for next year. I am cooking pork chops for dinner tonight but the prep for that can wait. It’s just sorting out the ingredients for the sauce.

I was only going to have avocado toast for breakfast, perhaps with a bit of bacon but THG informs me the avos ain’t ripe yet so plans have changed. There is half a tin of baked beans that needs finishing off so I’ll be chucking a few other bits into the mix to make it more interesting.

…

Agonising decision to be made in the spices, oils and vinegars aisle in Waitrose. I needed some more cumin seeds. They only sell ground cumin at THG’s usual shop but Waitrose, recognising that some recipes will need whole seeds, stocks em. £1.75 for a small jar. The agonising bit was the offer of two for £3.20. I couldn’t think of anything else we needed and there was no point in buying two jars of cumin seeds because one jar lasts a long time. Only bought the one jar! Was only a 30p saving for goodness sake 🙂

Battered by Bert. We are being. Looked on the cctv at 6.13am. Cameras showed rain and I could hear it on the roof of the greenhouse. It’ll clear the snow off the ground in double quick time. Park Run is cancelled. THG gutted. A vengeful storm named Bert. Good name.

In typing that first paragraph I accidentally discovered that if you hold your finger on a letter on the keyboard it comes up with loads of variant options for that letter. Ęèéêëēėə for example. No longer will I have to mess around inserting special characters when typing mañana. Not that I use that word particularly often but you get the drift.

Now listening to Farming Today. Intensive farming and inheritance tax. Two separate subjects. Not the impact of inheritance tax on intensive farming. No Jeremy Clarkson fortunately. I would be switching off. Before that it was Clare Boulding walking and talking with the chief scout, Dwayne Fields. They were at Gilwell Park. HQ. Went there for the world jamboree some years ago when our Tom was in the Scouts.

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Bert is really blowing now. Blow Bert, blow and batter. If there are any leaves left on the trees they will soon be gone. Rain lashes the windows to the rear (estate agentspeak) of the house. A proper storm.

A full English is called for but there is no rush. It is a hunkering down kind of day. The kitchen is warm. The wireless is on, albeit at a slightly lower than comfortably audible volume. I’ll have it turned up a little.

There is cricket talk on the air. A somewhat anomalous feel to it considering the storm would stop play, not to mention the cold. Play delayed due to frozen pitch. The weather forecast that followed the cricket piece tells us it is very unsettled. The last of the snow is about to disappear from the greenhouse roof. THG, clad in a bright green waterproof coat has sallied forth to a shop to source.

…

In the queue to buy Peter Kay tickets for the Isle of Man in February 2026. A quick off season city break when all the tourists have gone. Phone and laptop using two different IP addresses fwiw. 3 mins in and no sign of progress. 

Now 28 mins in and only just over a quarter of the way. Must only have one cashier at the other end flogging the tickets. “Now where would you like to sit sir? There is a nice aisle seat here in row F”.

THG came back from the shops with a big box of Maltesers. Oh great says I. We can play marbles with them. Have you lost your marbles says she? No I’ve been eating them 🙂

After 68 minutes the Peter Kay tickets sold out. Didn’t get any. There are better times of the year to go to the Isle of Man anyway.

A bright morning, a beautiful day. Just above freezing temperature. A good breakfast of fried smoked bacon and mushrooms in toasted white bread, French butter and HP Sauce washed down with a glass of organic milk. Now a fine cup of tea. A good start. Everyone needs a good start. Get going on the right foot and things will be okaaay.

I hear footsteps upstairs. THG getting ready for the day. Pumping iron this morning. Gymnasium. Gym. Yarborough. I have no plans although I do need to take a bottle of wine back to Waitrose as it wasn’t quite right last night. Amazingly, I still have the receipt in my jeans pocket. Just makes everything a little easier although all I’m going to do is swap it for another so wouldn’t really matter. Amarone. Yum, or not as was the case with this particular bottle.

It’s a Friday today, thank God. If gods are your thang you shouldn’t just thank them on a Friday. I just said that because it’s a common phrase. A turn of words used by people who want to express their joy that the end of the working week is nigh and a weekend of untrammelled relaxation lies ahead. Unless they have a jobslist obvs.

Us Davieses are off out tonight to The Drill Hall to see a Clash tribute act. The Clash tribute band by all accounts. We saw them in the Cavern Club in the Peul and enjoyed ourselves so going again tonight on our home turf. Manor. Patch.

Otherwise it will likely be a weekend of quiet contemplation and the enjoyment of each other’s company. I might light the fire again. Watch a bit of football and rugby. The mighty Wales take on the Springboks. We all know the likely outcome but still travel hopefully. Expectantly. Faithfully.

I will cook a curry on Saturday. I forget what THG has planned for Sunday but I’m absolutely positive it will be deelish.

…

Dark days ahead next week. Dark day anyway. Black Friday. Not sure I’ve ever come across something in a Black Friday sale that I want to buy. I have all the neon signs I need. Don’t really need owt. Since when did that ever stop anyone 🙂

Neon signs apart, if anything I am trying to simplify my life. In the interest of research I went online to browse amazing Black Friday deals. Amazon is offering 27% off Topfree Poo Bags for Dog Waste, 12 Rolls 180 Dog Poo bags. You have to have them in green though and not being a regular buyer of said items I don’t know if 27% off is a good deal. I couldn’t immediately see 27% off how much. 

I expect 180 bags would last a good while. No idea. Guess it depends on how many dogs you have and how often they “go”. You could split the purchase with a pal or two so that you all get the benefit of the bulk buy price. The deal. Not for me though as we don’t have a dog.

We have occasionally mulled over getting a dog. Most of our pals have one. The concept is good. The problem is they are more trouble than it’s worth. They have to be looked after. The vets fees can be enormous. We ain’t getting one. Not getting a cat either. No pets. THG will tell you she has enough trouble having just me in the house.

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64 out of 100

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London Calling at The Drill. Clash tribute band gig. I am reminded how few Clash songs I know. The audience is full of old people who might once have danced themselves in to a drug and alcohol fueled  frenzy to the sounds of the Clash in the seventies. Maybe. Maybe they line to think of themselves that way. THG is in the moshpit building up a sweat. She is not old. Ageless.

It’s a bit of a noise tbh. Considering this year we will have seen The Eagles and Paul McCartney and have already got tickets for ELO’s farewell gig in Hyde Park for next summer this evenings entertainment isn’t in the same musical league. It was of its time.

A few walking sticks and an electric wheelchair on display. I’m getting soft. Left my walking stick in the car 🙂 It was my dads. I can do without. Hip op in January. Age is both a physical and mental thing.

Elvis Presley played here, apaz. Some time ago now. A walking stick wouldn’t help him, anymore.

A fair few blokes sitting it out in the bar. I occasionally hear the band through the doors when they open to let people pass through. I was a youth At one time but I don’t remember bopping to the Clash. The Jam yes. Even when I hear a tune I recognise it doesn’t inspire me to go back in to the “auditorium”. Hey…

Old, old old, old, old. Middle aged really. Not geriatric old. 

A few face tattoos on display. Neck at least. Bald old guy in an overcoat comes out for a refill. 5 mins later he is out again to visit the gents.