Tuesday 31 October 2017

Tuesday 31st October 2017

All Hallows Eve.

A blog a little bit early as tomorrow is Tony's funeral, so we will be attending that and the wake all day tomorrow.

And then there is more, much more to write about Mum.

But being a work day, like yesterday, up with dawn breaking, and the sun setting the bottom of the clouds on fire. The cats fed and coffee made with barely a word spoken, as is the way now as we both have our routines. And this morning I have to be working by nine as I have a meeting to prepare for at eight, and better know my onions.

Jools is ready to go at ten to seven, and I am making the second pot of coffee and pouring bran flakes into a bowl. And by the time I am ready to work at quarter past seven, it is light outside and the sun already up and shining brightly. I am dressed, still have half a cup of coffee, and ready to go.

And preparation is everything, making points, taking notes.

That done, it seems I am ready for breakfast but make do with an orange, but its only delaying the inevitable for an hour at most. Calls made, mails written and notes typed up. I'm on a roll.

Lunch is taken on the hoof, whilst making shepherd's pie for dinner. We have no mincer, so I cup up the left over lamb as mall as I can, fry some onions until soft, then add the lamb and loganberry sauce; our into a tin, then topped with cheesy mashed potato, and all ready for putting into the oven at about half five.

Lunch is cold Yorkshire puddings, which are far better than they should be.

And after lunch I call the hospital: Mum is in a poor way. It seems her sternum is not healing at Papworth are concerned enough to suggest that she might be transferred back there in the next few days. She is still on antibiotics, but I was told that Mum did not have blood poisoning, but has a serious infection still.

I speak to Mum and she is very down, saying she does not know how long she can put u with the treatment. I think the issue is that at the moment there is no end in sight, and if she goes back to Papworth it will be many weeks before there is any chance of her leaving either hospital. I try to say the right things, think of something you are really looking forward to do when you get out, and focus on that, but really these are just words.

I don't know, we shall see how things go these next few days. I will go up on Saturday I think, and see what the situation is then. But if she goes back to papworth, then I will have to stay up in Suffolk once again.

Three hundred and four I have a few loose ends to tie up before the end of the day, but my heart really isn't it it once again, thinking about Mum and her condition. I suppose it is the fact that Mum had not been told anything of her condition either, and the fact ths one senior nurse was prepared to tell us both the situation was welcome, but frustrating that this had not been done previously.

The shepherd's pie was a triumph, of course, and something to make again. Football this evening, on the radio. And writing. Always the writing.

The strategically accelerated brexit

As you may have noticed, Brexit news is coming thick and fast, mainly as David Davis has finally noticed that the clock is ticking louder and louder. I mean, I was wondering when he would notice.

His idea, given to a House of Lords Committee today was that the process needed to be strategically accelerated. No idea what that means, maybe it it is something other than stumbling around in the dark. He added that it was hoped that Michel Barnier would come to London for laks on Wednesday, but couldn't make it, so talks are to be held next week.

It is clear that there is a huge difference between the EU and UK on the financial settlement, DD still banging on about £20 billion, which only takes Britain to the end of the 2018-2019 financial year. It is the EU's PoV that Britain should pay up to the end of the current 5 year budget cycle, and also pay on deals and projects they have signed up to. This is not going to be easy.

"Maintaining an invisible border will be relatively easy - if we have tariffs then a real problem". Indeed it would, if there was an invisible border. But to have that then very close trading relationship is needed, CU or SM, but that comes with ECJ jurisdiction, a red line for May, and yet for no good reason other than it's a EU institution. THis does not even begin to address the huge issue that he has with the Irish border, as I have stressed many times, and it will be up to him, and Britain to come up with a fix that is acceptable to the Conservative (and Unionist Party, to give it it's full name), the DUP, the Republican side, Eire and the EU26, and be within the rules of the EU.

Good luck with that.

He then went on to say: "we will have a basic deal - I think of it as a deal without the bits we want". That is a no deal but calling it a deal. Messing with semantics here, which I suppose is to be expected, but the financial hits will be clear to everyone in time.

As for those impact assessments: "not required to release anything which would undermine negotiations". Still sticking by those poker analogies, even though with Brexit the EU knows our hand, which is why we were where we are. He closed with stating that trade deals could be closed very quickly and there are opportunities out there. By opportunities he means challenges, of course. And trade deals that are done quickly, won't neccessarily be in our favour, but by then we will have to accept any crumbs any country is willing to throw our way.

In other news, it was revealed that membership of the EU costs Britain £8.3 billion a year, or 33p a day for each and every one of us. Quite a bargain, as EU citizens pay into the exchequer som £15 billion a year, and take less than £3 billion a year in benefits. And finally, best case scenario, a softest possible brexit will cost the economy £15 billion a year, with each harder option costing more. As was pointed out on Twitter, all this because some people don't like to hear Polish on the bus.

Monday 30th October 2017

All Hallows Eve Eve.

If you will.

And it is Monday again, and I am finding it hard to summon up the enthusiasm for work. Maybe its the time of year, what is happening around us, I don't know. But the weekend was so splendid, working in the garden and relaxing, doing stuff, even if Jools was away for nearly half of it. Back at work means, well, work.

It is now getting light when we get up, and before seven the sun has risen over the dip at the back of the house, and soon sunshine is pouring in through the windows, and with the heating in, it feels very warm indeed. So I switch the heating off. Mistake #1. I even open the back door to allow some air into the house, I mean its warm enough out there, right? mistake #2.

Soon it was getting chilly as the day clouded over. But I sit here telling myself that I was imagining the cold. By two when I give in, close the door and put the heating back on, it is so cold in the house, I don't really warm up until I have a shower later

With the sun so bright in the morning, the summer flowers are still going strong, in particular, the Cosmos near the house looking splendid in the bright morning sunshine. I take their picture:

Three hundred and three Later in the day I call the hospital and speak to Mum. No real news from her side, just the usual stuff, being bored and sad. She does actually sound brighter and speaks clearer without pausing and without struggling for breath. I will try to go up at the weekend, but it turns out that there are some other issues to deal with first before I can travel up, we shall see.

It is dusk at five and dark at half past. Seems very cold and dark. Glad that I was making soup for dinner. Nothing fancy just a pot from Tesco, with some cornbread it was fine, and so easy to prepare. Outside it had clouded over and the wind blew, it feels very much like winter.

Writing, editing and listening to the football in the evening, and that was Monday. How quickly time slips through our fingers.

Monday 30 October 2017

What we know and what they won't tell us

Today, in a written answer, the Government admitted that it had commissioned and completed 58 impact assessments on the various impacts of the different scenarios related to leaving the EU. Only, they are refusing to release any of them for any one to read.

In fact, ti appears that no one has really read them, not even the PM of DD. In an interesting answer last week to a Parliamentary committee, DD seemed to suggest that the framework for the reports was incorrect and so the findings unreliable. Only, as the Minister responsible, he would have signed off on the criteria. So is he lying or incompetent. Or both? The Government is still holding to the line that releasing them would show the EU what the effects would be, weakening Britain's negotiating position.

Only, Britain doesn't really have a position. On anything.

There is a case being brought to court to force the Government to release the assessments. It might succeed. But of course, in a sensible county, the assessments would have been carried out and released BEFORE the referendum, so that people would have known what they were voting for, knowing the consequences.

But that would be sensible, wouldn't it, as people would rather believe a lie written on the side of a bus that actually have, you know, facts.

I will leave you with this thought on a different matter:

Today indictments were handed down in the USA to former members of Donald Trump's election campaign relating to lying to the FBI earlier in relation to links to Russia and Russians. We know that Trump only says good things about Putin and has rather believed Putin's word rather than the USA's own security agencies relating to Russian interference. Then there is the release my Wikileaks of documents that only damaged HRC's campaign, leaks that almost certainly came from Russian sources. Someone was the intermediary between Trump's team and Julian Assange hiding in a broom cupboard in the Ecuadorian Embassy in London. And who was that seen exiting the Ecuadorian Embassy by the back door a few months ago? Nigel Farrage. Asked what he was doing there, replied he could not remember. Who was the first person to visit Trump Tower after the election last November to congratulate Donald Trump? Nigel Farrage. And which organisation helped both the Trump election and the Brexit referendum in targeting people of social media. Cambridge Analitica. You will hear a lot about this company in the next few months, and the links between Trump, his election team, Farrage, Wikileaks, Russia and CA.

Sunday 29th October 2017

THe moon is now nearly half full again, and looks down on the Kent downs just before dawn. I should still be in bed, but its the weekend, isn't it? Meaning my mind is going over all the things to do, and then I remember that not only is it Sunday, but the clocks went back last night, so its an hour early. I explain this to the cats, that it feels like it should be breakfast, but its now an hour later.....

I must have dozed off, as I hear Jools getting up, going down the stairs to feel the cats. As its getting light it must be about half six I suppose. I go down and find the coffee is brewing on the cooker. Something about a whole day stretching out in front of us, and nothing planned, heck, I even planned to give the football on the radio a miss later; not only because the games didn't get the juices flowing, but both were on TalkSport.

After checking things online, I retire to the sofa to watch some football recorded from the previous night. Its not exciting, but then as Jools had arrived home from Suffolk at the end the games the afternoon before, I found I had forgotten or missed most of the results and stories. So I watched each game pretty much not knowing what was going to happen next; now if only I could do that every week?

We have breakfast, just dull boring cereal as we had not been to Tesco for either croissants or bacon. Branflakes and more coffee it was then.

And then it was yet more gardening. We have to transplant the spring bulbs from the box beds to the new beds as soon as possible as autumn is getting on and so the tubers would be getting ready for the new season. I dig a trench a foot deep, trying not to cut through the power line leading to the shed, deep enough to put some compost in the trench, then the bulbs, then cover them up. At least the trench in the lower bed was so much easier to dig than the other one, which knackered my back, so this was almost pleasurable, digging through good soil with few roots ready for planting. Meanwhile, Jools digs the bulbs from the box beds, a slow process otherwise it would be easy to spear a tuber with the fork.

I take this time to go to Tesco, we needed milk and bread as well as other stuff, so leaving Jools digging the beds, I drive to Whitfield, and first have to try to hand in a hug bag of out of date drugs Jools found at mum's. So I have to wait in line with those waiting to drop off prescriptions. And so passes half an hour.

Around the store in record time, with some naughty things falling in the trolley, but in an out in an hour, time then to go to see Jen and Sylv in the old folks place, but it has to be said, that even with what has happened these past two weeks, more laughter has been heard there than for many a year. Sorry, but just telling it like it is, or as I sees it.

So, there is what is the regular job of fixing a tablet and/or i phone, although I have no idea about either.

They are sorting out photographs for the funeral; there are to be displays from the three children as well as Jen. Odd as so many of them have Tony's first wife in, or course. That being Jools' Mother of course.

I leave them to it and take Sylv's i phone with me, as I think it could be a job for Jools. Turns out its an issue with their wifi router, as here the phone is fine, just need for someone now to take it back and sort out the router. We have lunch, then go back out into the garden for the final task of planting the bulbs, then mulching the new bed, so worms will do the ob of softening the ground over the winter.

Job done, just in take as the wind has swung round to the north, getting cooler by the minute. I go out in the car for a hunt for manure. We need more for the garden. I drive to River, then up Minnis Lane near to where Nan used to live, I take the road up the down, through the modern houses built on the side of the hill, then through woods until the lane came out in open farmland. Usually there is manue to be had at the riding school along there for a quid a bag, but not this day.

Its not a wasted trip as I call in to see my friend Gary and his wife, Julie. They ply me with tea and bourbon creams, which is always nice. And we make plans for that meal that was last postponed because Julie fell through decking in their back garden and broke her ankle. As you do.

Time is getting on, and getting dark by four. I have dinner to cook back in St Maggies, so make my way back. Jools had just finished planting snowdrop bulbs, and she looked very cold. I make coffee then season the leg of lamb and pop it in to roast. Prep the vegetables, mix the Yorkshire pudding batter, all to a Goth soundtrack on 6 music, which is a delight. Amazing how the music flows so well from The Sister of Mercy to The Mission to The Cure and Echo and the Bunnymen. The Birthday party sounded as scary as they did 25 years ago on Peel late at night.

Three hundred and two I also make a jus, made with the sloe port from last year's fruit, added with the loganberries from the garden. I have to thicken it up with some flour, but it is wonderful on the roast lamb and vegetables once all is cooked. I am a clever bunny. We have the very last bottle of the pink fizz left from my working trips to Belgium. Oh, how we miss those days! The bottles of red wine are running low too. Maybe we should go over for the day before Christmas......

And just like that the weekend is over. Time to tidy the kitchen, wash up and have showers so we are fresh for the new week. Mechanical mayhem from Robot Wars is one at eight, then a few last things t do before time for bed.

Sunday 29 October 2017

Here is the Brexit problem

Thanks to @davidallengreen on twitter:

1. The Brexit withdrawal bill is still delayed in the Commons, but its hardest passage will be in the Lords. But.....

2. The government has now lost yet another @DExEUgov minister in the Lords. This is not good for the government. However.....

3. May has delayed any cabinet discussion of post Brexit trade deal until next year. And....

4. The "sufficient progress" stage in the Brexit/EU talks has also been delayed, until at least December this year, possibly longer. And....

5. The EU [ominous tune] has started internal preparation for trade talks. This is not good news for the UK. Because....

6. It was EU27 preparing ahead of time, while UK dilly-dallied, which has led to the current shafting of UK in the Exit negotiations. So....

7. UK, 16 months after referendum and 7 months after A50, is now in as bad a position on Brexit as it possibly can be.

Which is why when it is said that had May been a plant to derail Brexit, she would have done exactly the same stuff she has done thus far. And now this for the rest of the year!

And all the while, the Daily Mail, Express, Torygraph blame the EU for not changing their position. The problem really is that they have one, and Britain doesn't.

The week in Brexit

Thanks to @jonworth for these:

1. Davis talked about Czechoslovakia in Commons, while boasting he had good knowledge of the rest of Europe

2. Tory MP Chris Heaton Harris sparked controversy by writing to universities about Brexit

3. No one knows what’s happening with the 57 sector impact assessments on Brexit, except May hasn’t read them

4. But despite important people not having read them, the assessments won’t be published after FOI requests

5. DExEU lost another minister - Joyce Anelay stood down due to a helicopter injury

6. We also discovered that Cabinet has not actually discussed what future trade deal UK wants

7. Some Brexit hard line Tories want to circumvent May and talk to 🇪🇺 direct. Good luck with that

8. Then we had Boris blathering on about a 350 year old treaty to get Portugal to help the UK

9. And last but not least, the EU wants more negotiation rounds before December. But UK doesn’t

And all the while Britain gets closer to the 29th March 2019, when if no deals are done and those which are done are not ratified, Britain will crash out of the EU having to trade with everyone on WTO rules, and this week we found that not one country out of 161 countries actually does trade solely on WTO rules.

What could possibly go wrong?

Saturday 28th October 2017

Winter is coming.

From the back room window, overlooking the dip, most tree are in the process of shedding leaves, those that are left are turning to gold and red. And the sure sign that it is nearly winter is the tree that stands between the house and a view of the Dover Patrol Monument now has lost enough leaves for the monument to be seen through its boughs. The news is taking of a shift in the wind to the north tomorrow and the first frosts of the season. Brrr.

I awake with Scully still asleep beside me, Mulder on the chest of drawers and he was still snoozing, but Molly was already doing her pre-breakfast stretches as I climb down the stairs. Jools was due to leave Lowestoft sometime that morning, so could be home any time from about two onwards. So, I feed the cats, make a coffee and check on the internet to see if Trump had resigned overnight, or Brexit had been stopped. We live in hope.

Neither had happened, I edit some shots, post them, have breakfast and get dressed, ready for some more manual labour; the rest of the bed needed digging. I go outside, and despite looking autumnal, it is already quite warm, and could soon do away with the jumper I was wearing. As usual, one of the cats keeps an eye on me as I dig away, removing barrow loads of turf, until the shape of the bed is revealed. The paint we had used to mark out the beds was now very faded, and the bulbs had to be planted as soon as possible, so there was no time to waste.

Three hundred and one Once the bed was done and the unwanted turf stacked in collars to rot down to create an abundance of compost for next year, I go inside to vacuum, mop the floors in the kitchen then change the oil in the deep fat fryer. What a busy bee I was.

I defrost some crumpets for lunch, cook them under the grill until they are very brown indeed, then pile on lots of butter to melt into the holes, just as they should be. Jools calls to say she is leaving at midday, meaning she will be home sometime after four, all being well, and has news of Mum.

As I had been busy, I take the afternoon off to listen to football, pausing in my relaxation to prepare the steak for dinner. I decide I have worked hard enough to get a bottle of beer and some microwave popcorn to munch on whilst the first game plays out.

Old Spooky Hen At three, Norwich kick off, but struggle against Derby and the referee (again), slumping to a 2-1 defeat. Bugger. I miss the end of the games as Jools returns, and we have much to discuss.

Mus does not think she can ever return home, is feeling down as as the blood poisoning is still not under control. This means big changes ahead, if it pans out, and it will be up to Jools and myself to clear her house out, sort out what to keep and what to bin. This will take about a week at least, as despite Mum and her cleaner sorting her clothes out, and me in the kitchen being ruthless, there is three bedrooms with wardrobes all full of stuff, and then what might be in the attic and in the garage.

I prepare dinner, as Jools has not eaten much in the previous 24 hours, so is pretty hungry. Steak, fried jacket potatoes, garlic mushrooms and fresh corn all together is rather wonderful even if the cook says so himself.

This was also the last day of British Summer Time, meaning from Sunday mornings would be lighter, but darkness would now be falling before five in the evening.

Winter is coming.

Almost here in fact.

Saturday 28 October 2017

Friday 27th October 2017

Pay day.

I say this as it is something of a relief after been effectively running two houses and cars this month, we were out of money. Not pointing a finger at anyone or anything, just a statement of fact, and when the money runs out, you have to stop spending.

With my back getting better by the day, I could have gone with Jools to see Mum, as planned, but then someone would have to look after the cats. So, I get up to make breakfast, feed the cats whilst Jools gets ready for work and pack an overnight bag as she would be going to Suffolk straight after work.

Friday morning She has left before sunrise, leaving me to have breakfast and stand in the kitchen as the sun rises facing the windows, bathing the room with golden sunlight. I decide that needs to have a picture taken to show how golden the light was. That's my excuse anyway.

There is work to be done, and I hope the IT issues my laptop had the day before would be fixed, and at first it seemed OK, but soon things grind to a halt or just freeze. No matter of rebooting seemed to make any difference, I mean not that I thought it would, but is now making the simple task of answering an e mail almost impossible.

I struggle on to two in the afternoon, but that that point with another reboot required, I just switch the bloody thing off and throw it in my bag for the weekend. Not sure if it will be any better at that point to be honest.

Three hundred I go out into the garden to begin the task of digging the second of the two beds, I hope it will look OK once I finish. The job is to take the turf off at this stage, once Jools comes back we will gig the old fritillaries up and replant them in the new bed. But that was in the future, as I have to get busy with the spade, but careful enough not to damage my back again, as I don't want to be shuffling round the house again.

With each barrowful, I take breaks, needed in the warm sunshine making it feel at least two months earlier. But at four my back says that enough is enough, so with about a third of the grass off, I stop for a brew and take a pill for my back. At least it is a general ache from work rather than anything more serious.

Velvet Shank Flammulina velutipes For dinner I bought a ready meal; a tagine with cous cous, but I make a small potato bread roll to go along with it, and open a cheeky bottle of red to go with this fine feast. And with darkness falling outside, I sit down for dinner for one, with the radio playing the soundtrack for the weekend.

Being a creature of habit, there is Mastermind and Only Connect to watch, whilst Molly and I sit on the sofa trying to stay awake.

When I go to bed at half ten, Scully is waiting for me on the spare bed, and with autumn chills in the air, I sleep int hat bed as it has the thicker duvet. She snuggles up to me, and so we both fall asleep.

Friday 27 October 2017

Thursday 26th October 2017

I woke when the heating came on at quarter to seven. I had less than 5 hours sleep and I guess looked like it too, if I'd have made it to a mirror.

Poor Jools has to drive to Hythe, so I am up first, feeding the cats, making coffee and making breakfast. It seems to work, and she is all ready to leave at half seven, and me to get the laptop out and log on for a meeting at eight. Just a well I have blocked the webcam up, as I was still in my dressing gown at nine.

At nine the meeting finishes, I go upstairs to have a shower then get dressed. I come back down, make more coffee and have breakfast. And in an hour I feel like its lunchtime, so I make sandwiches and another brew.

There is work to be done, mails to be answered, documents to be reviewed, then a three and a half hour webinar to sit through. On Sharepoint. I won't spare you the details, but it seems my work laptop was very upset as it kept disconnecting from the feed, freezing on Outlook, and so on.

Two hundred and ninety nine At half three I had given up as it froze and disconnected from the webinar, the last thing I heard was, you don't need to know this but....

I don't need this pressure on either.

I slump on the sofa whilst Molly gently snores beside me. I should be a cat I think.

I make boiled chicken with smoked bacon and rice for dinner. And it is wonderful, naturally, of course. We both have booze with it, as our days had both been mad.

And that is it. Jools went to see Jen and Sylv, I stay home and nurse a headache and what was left of my backache. And in that way the evening fades and is soon time for bed, at least once Jools comes back from Whitfield.

Through the week, despite the backache, I have sorted out the lawn, and sowed a second crop of Yellow Rattle, and where last year's was, a whole load of wildflower seed. Might not work, but will be interesting if nothing else.

Thursday 26 October 2017

Wednesday 25th October 2017

Midway between the August Bank Holiday and Christmas. And with that cheery thought, on we jolly well go.

My back is slightly better, but soon stiffens up soon after getting up, thankfully Florence Nightingjools has made a coffee for me once I stumble down the stairs and perch myself on the corner of the chair in front of the PC which she has already switched on. It is a sad fact that you can tell when I am feeling really poorly is that I bail from the dining room table to sit on the softer sofa, in which case Molly can come and keep me company until eight o'clock when I really have to go to work sitting at the dining room table, but by then the drugs were beginning to kick in, so the pain was beginning to subside.

And as usual, the sky was about to fall. I didn't know it as I had a second cup of coffee, but then each time the phone rings or an e mail drops into Outlook, it really could change everything.

But first I had to take Jools to work, for reasons that will become clear later in the day. But it did mean not only getting up at a reasonable time, but being dressed and ready to drive to the other side of Folkestone. Breakfast could wait until I got home.

Jools made her lunch, we loaded the car and I took the car past Wallett's Court to the Duke of Yorks, down Jubilee Way then along the old harbour to the climb out of town. And as usual, a ferry had just docked and the roads were busy with cars and trucks heading north, but at least with it being half term, some of the usual traffic stayed at home. Dawn was coming as we drove up Shakespeare along the A20, a clear blue sky promised a fine day.

Hythe is quiet this time of day at least, with few people out and about, just those who work with Jools, sitting outside the warehouse, smoking in full view of the people in their new million pound plus flats, the fronts might overlook the beach, but the backs have the industrial estate. After dropping her off, I turn round to get back home as close to eight as possible to start work. Traffic was heavier heading to Dover, but still not too bad, so I fly up Jubilee Way and home, getting back at five past, time enough to make a fresh pot of coffee and have breakfast.

At four I have to feed the cats, have a wash and then get back in the car to drive back to Hythe to pick Jools up, as we had a date in Sussex.

We drive up the Motorway to Ashford, battle our way round the ringroad before taking the main road over the marshes to Brenzett. Darkness was falling, headlights seemed bright in the hlaflight, and a slight mist was rising from the ditches and dykes both sides of the road. We were crossing the Romney Marsh, the closet thing to Norfolk in Kent, once home to herds of hardy sheep and hardier folk who looked after them and eeked out a living. Villages and ancient churches survive here, between the Downs and the coast.

It was dark by the time we got to Rye in Sussex, following the main road down either side of the river, crossing the small bridge, then a short dash over the last of the marshes before the unexpected steep climb at Winchelsea, still guarded by ancient gatehouses visible from the main road. This skirts round the edge of the town, getting up the down via an unexpected hairpin bend.

From there the road undulates its way to Hastings, where the road drops down to the beach, then skirts the seaside past the reopened pier, through St Leonards and finally into Bexhill.

We found a place to park the car near the De la Warr Pavilion where we were here to see a concert. It is a fine town, looking quite wealthy, but the high street seemed down on its luck, with many closed shops. And yet there were places to eat, and we find one place with only one occupied table; they do stir fries and curries, we go on and make our choices. And we were joined on adjacent tables by two couples who both talk loudly about work, birthdays and Sex and the City. It is oddly fascinating, hearing what looks like a wealthy businessman explain her admiration for Kim Cattrall, the one time shop dummy.

Spitfire The food is great, not too much, and flavoursome which we each have a small bottle of booze. I even have a desert; some icecream for me and panna cotta for Jools.

Its only a two minute walk back to the venue, a wonderful art deco building, which was playing hope to a favourite of Jools and I, Public Service Broadcasting. We go in and walk into the auditorium where the support act, Palace, were playing some great stuff. We find a place near the front to watch them, then when two ladies leave at the end of their set, Jools and I have places at the front. One of the ladies was the Mother of the singer in Palace, she was very proud of him, and rightly so. Has a great voice and a fine geetar player.

Two hundred and ninety eight We wait 40 minutes whilst roadies do their thing and prepare the stage for the main act.

PSB are great, and are showcasing their new album based on the coalfields of South Wales and the communities they used to support. THere is film playing in the background, as the band plays for 100 minutes. It is stunning I have to say.

It is twenty to eleven by the time they are done, and we walk to the car and make our way out of the town onto the main road. The A259 might twist and turn, but after 11 is mainly empty, so we can make good time cruising over the downs then dropping down through deserted Rye and across the marshes back to Ashford and home.

We get back at ten past midnight, and are pooped, but our ears ring with the music we heard. Another one of them good days.

The state of Brexit

Yesterday, the Minister responsible for negotiating with the EU, and when I say responsible I mean he's not really responsible enough to be out on his own but is the best of a useless bunch, made a statement to a COmmons Select Committee that was either factually incorrect or displayed a shocking lack of understanding in the A50 process that David Davis is supposed to be steering through with the EU.

He stated that negotiations with the EU could be still under way on the 29th March 2019, therefore any vote by Parliament would come after Britain had left the EU. THis would mean the promise of a "meaningful" vote would have been a false promise. Readers of these words and Brexit posts will know that any deal struck between Britain and the EU has to be ratified on both sides, or at least by the EU. And the EU has allocated 6 months out of the 2 year A50 process for the ratification. Meaning that all negotiations should be completed by the end of October 2018.

Did DD not know this, or just lied. The implication is either he is a liar or stupid. Probably both.

Later that day, his Department put of a statement correcting the statement of it's own Minister stating that the talks will have to end in a year's time. It does not instil confidence on the process within Parliament, nor in businesses who are already accelerating plans to relocate, GlaxoSmithKline being the big name yesterday to do so.

It is likely now that a clause will be written into the once great repeal bill to ensure that Parliament does have such a vote. Which comes a day after Donald Tusk suggests that Britain has the power to stop Brexit if it wanted. It is up to Britain to have a soft, hard or no Brexit he sais. What is not said on Britain making such a decision how, or if, the EU would accept that, or whether they would impose conditions (hard remain), like not being able to trigger A50 again for a period of time, or at all.

It now emerges that no one at the DExEU has not read the Impact Assessments, nor know if anyone else has or if they are reports at all. DD suggested in his evidence yesterday that the basis of the reports, that he himself decided upon, might not have been correct therefore the reports might not be accurate. If truth, another example of how he did not understand the task he had been given.

Yesterday, Tory Whip (don't ask) it emerged had sent letters to all vice-chancellors at UK universities asking for details on who was teaching Brexit-related material, and for that material to be sent to him. This was written on official House of Commons paper, which is important. Later, when many universities published scans of the letter, the Government tried to make out that Chris Heaton Harris was in fact researching for a book. IN which case he would be guilty of misusing his position for this, and why did he se official stationary?

All this would be OK, but today's Daily "Hate" Mail lead with Remainer Universities, a two page splash on "Leftie" chancellors, Brexit material being distributed by lecturers and so on, and the cherry on top an e mail address people can report suspect universities to name and shame them.

Of course this is the thought police from 1984 made real, and the fact that Brexit is based almost purely on belief in Brexit and Brexit alone. Where there is something wrong, it must be someone else's fault: The EU, Remoaners, The Press, the Judiciary the BBC, foreigners or reality. If no debate on the massive holes on "preoject Brexit" is to be allowed, then what? If truth is not to be taught, then history is to be rewritten as it happens. A new shift.

How soon before the book burning begins, and remainers sent to "camps" for "reeducation"?

When reality itself is seen as an issue for the Brexiteers, then what now for Britain, and how ever is this ever going to be resolved when the wheels really do come off the Brexit bus, emblazoned by lies as to Brexit benefits, and the role of the press, other media and Parliament itself have all failed to due their duty to hold Government policy to scrutiny.

Wednesday 25 October 2017

Tuesday 24th October 2017

Mum is still unwell. The septicemia is barely under control, and she is to have a line plumbed back into her body for the easier administration of antibiotics. On top of that the wound in her leg that they took one of the veins out of, has started to bleed, meaning another minor operation. On top of that, I rarely get the chance to speak with Mum, just a medical update, or sometimes a yeah, she's ok, from the duty nurse. To say it is frustrating is an understatement.

On top of this, my bad back means the chances of me being able to drive four hours each way up there, or even travel in a car is slim. In which case Jools might go up on her own on Friday afternoon, coming back sometime on Saturday, while I stay home to cat sit and let my back recover.

The final decision on this and other matters to be made by Thursday.

As it is, not much other to report on a very dull and dreary day at Chez Jelltex. More work. More cuppas. More cats. More the usual stuff. And lots of meetings, including a four hour one in the afternoon. One hope all this nonsense improves things, but then I'm not holding my breath.

Get up, groan as in the first ten minutes I go from being pain free to being only able to shuffle round the house. There is coffee and drugs waiting for me downstairs. Which is good.

And as usual the plan for the day's work was soon in tatters as there is the start of the firefighting to do, making calls and the such before the marathon meeting began.

Middle of the afternoon I pop jacket potatoes in the oven, hopefully the three hours I allowed would result in being crispier than a crispy thing. With That the only preparation needed, I could concentrate on not falling asleep as the meeting continued.

Two hundred and ninety seven Tuesday was the League Cup, or whatever its called now. Or who the sponsor is. I won't name the sponsor here, as I have no idea what they even do, which should eb the point in sponsoring it. If you told me they made tupperware coffins, I would believe you, probably more useful that what they do actually do. Instead, I prefer to think arctic mammals have clubbed together to sponsor it instead. Whatever.

Norwich were the lowest ranked club left in, and we were rewarded with a trip to the Arse, and we nearly won. Nearly. 1-0 until the 87th minute, and two clear penalties denied, a red card not shown, Arse scramble in an equaliser from a corner, and in extra time do the same again to win. BAH!

Tuesday 24 October 2017

Monday 23rd October 2017

After three weeks on dutiful son duty I am back home, and being Monday, back to work.

In fact there wasn't as many e mails waiting for me once I had remembered my password and got logged on, but three weeks of updates to download and install, Outlook acted like a ZX Spectrum all day, freezing and so on every time I tried to write a mail of forward something on.

My back was killing me still, not so bad when I woke up, but once I sat on the dining room chair, I made it worse and so in order to cope I perch on the edge of the chair looking like a garden gnome hopelessly fishing in a dry garden.

Jools makes me coffee and I sit on the sofa to drink it and to watch the last night's football, and still be able to log onto work on time at eight in the morning.

And after feeling like poo for a couple of hours, I'm soon back in the groove and even the pain in my back fages a little.

I would have gone for a walk, but soon a steady drizzle began to fall, and sea mist drifted in from the cliffs making it a very grey and dull day. Not much of a chance to go out, s I take breaks and walk into the kitchen to make regular brews and sit on the sofa to drink, stroking Molly as she sleeps away.

Two hundred and ninety six Jools comes back just after two so we can go to Jen's so to be there when the minister arrives. Lets not kid ourselves, Tony nor any of us are religious, but somehow a religious service was requested by Tony. So there are hymns to choose and readings to select, and discuss what sort of person Tony was.

We are home at six, late to feed the cats, but they'll survive. They make a lot of noise, but then so do I.

I am feeling drained thanks to my back, so its all a little quiet in the evening, spent watching Autumnwatch on TV before going to bed at half nine, and hoping I would feel better in the morning.

Monday 23 October 2017

Sunday 22nd October 2017

I wish I could report that the bad back I had been suffering with was better come Sunday morning. It wasn't, but maybe not quite as bad as I feared. But once up and about, sitting at the dining room table brought on pain that made my eyes water. I abandon the internet and go on the sofa to watch the recording of MOTD, but as we were up late, by now it was half eight, but then we had nothing urgent to be doing.

Halfway through the football, I stop and cook bacon butties, then resume the position on the sofa.

Outside it was warm and sunny, so I decide that I would take me and my back on a walk. Jools said she had much garden work to be done, so I would shuffle along on my own, maybe snapping some wildflowers that might be still open.

I stretch out my sciatic nerve, and that makes things a lot easier.

Another autumnal walk to Windy Ridge I go to the end of the street, then over the fields. Behind me, I could see clouds coming, which would cover the sunlight, so I walk as quick as mu legs would carry me until I got to Fleet House when the sun was covered and the golden light faded, and it got much cooler too. The copse is still pigless, and even the few horses on the downs between here and Kingsdown seemed to be huddled and cold even wearing their blankets.

Another autumnal walk to Windy Ridge I walk to the top of the Dip, snap the scene for its fan club, then turn round to begin the climb to Windy Ridge and the great annual fruitless fungi hunt.

It was now really quite chilly out, but then I was just wearing shorts and a t shirt, so I kept moving, climbing up the slope to the woods, then along the bridleway ankle-deep in golden leaves, seeing just King Alfred's Cakes in one fallen branch.

Another autumnal walk to Windy Ridge I walk back down past the old nursery, now closed of course, not that they would have gotten that much passing business here. We did buy plants from there in the past, when we didn't feel like driving elsewhere. Anyway, I see two fieldfares in the distance, but don't have the lenses to be able to get a good shot of them.

Another autumnal walk to Windy Ridge I get back home at about 11, cold but pain free. A half hour on one of the dining room chairs changed that, I soon had aches and pains returning.

Another autumnal walk to Windy Ridge Of course, time was nearing for the main event of the day; the Old Farm Derby, aka Ipswich v Norwich, at Portaloo Road. It was on TV, but not on free to air channels, so I have to listen to it on the radio, Talksport no less, so have to put up with the ads, the namechecks for Sky Sports and betting odds. But I could hear the game at least. And it was pretty exciting stuff, mostly for supports of the two teams it has to be said. Goaless in the first half, City score the only goal on the hour, and cruise to full time with only the sounds of celebrating supports as the backdrop to the commentary. 8 years unbeaten in the deby games for Norwich now; can we play you every week?

New bed There is then two Prem games too, and with Jools going to Jens to meet with Cath and Mike to discuss the arrangements for the funeral and other stuff, I was left at home to sit on the sofa with Molly nestling beside me, purring away in her sleep.

Two hundred and ninety five Arsenal beat Everton 5-2, and then Spurs thrash Liverpool 4-1 in what was a very enjoyable afternoon of listening to footy.

When Jools comes back there are six Goldfinches feeding off the new feeder visible from the kitchen. The bed is also done, so I go to take a shot of that and the golden light on the houses the other side of the dip.

Another golden evening Dinner is chorizo hash again, because it so good. And we can listen to Desert Island Discs at the same time and slurp pink fizz too. What's not to like?

And round off the day with the new series of Robot Wars too, perfect. And I will start work again in the morning too. So early to bed to be fresh for that bulging in box on the morrow.

A different view

Last Friday there was a meeting at which the EU decided there hadn't been sufficient progress with the UK in the Brexit negotiations. However, they would allow internal preparations on the next stage of talks on trade to start with the possibility of talks with Britain beginning in December.

This was a surprising switch from the previous position of "Brexit is Brexit" and "Sufficient Progress is Sufficient Progress".

In some leaked notes it was noted that it might be better to throw May something to cling onto, and to be able to present something seen as progress, if not she could be overthrown and they might have to deal with one of the headbangers who seem to desire a hard or no deal Brexit.

So, May was able to say movement had been made and the two sides were very close, whilst the EU were able to say not sufficient progress had been made, and it was up to Britain to come up with solutions not just to the financial settlement but to citizen's rights and the Irish border. It gives both sides eight weeks to bridge the gap, but lets not kid ourselves, there is a huge amount of wrangling to be done, and if just on the financial settlement, with Britain offering something in the area of £18 billion, and some countries wanting something closer to £80 billion.

As previously stated, its not what is legally owed by UK, but what are we willing to pay to get talks moving? The cost of deadlock gets ever more expensive with each passing day, but May also has to be able to present to her Party and her Ministers as having achieved something akin to a good deal.

This is not to say that the other two items; citizen's rights and the Irish border, are going to be easy. Clearly, the EU want a status quo, and so does May really, but with the referendum won on lies about immigration, anything less that kicking out all Johnny Foreigners will do, even if that means ruining the economy, because, that was the will of the people. Even though it wasn't.

And after that, the really tough talking on trade, borders and the rest has to begin. If three simple issues are going to take 8 months, assuming that they will be sorted by the end of the year, then getting trade and ALL the other issues sorted by the end of October next year to allow 6 months of ratification is wildly optimistic. And then there is the legislation that has to be steered through Parliament; and who is to do this? Andrea Leadsome, someone so incompetent she scuppered her own leadership bid in less than 24 hours.

Sunday 22 October 2017

Saturday 21st October 2017

In bed, ever time I turned over, the pain in my thigh woke me up. It was little better once I was awake, making that first move that would cause a pain to shoot up my spine. But, once on my feet, I was better, at least in less pain, just took some time to get going.

After coffee, Jools said she would go to Tesco, leaving me to stay at home and struggle in trying to get a pair of trousers on. I have trouble at the best of time, but, now.... And as for socks.....

By the time Jools comes back, I am dressed and have washed up, so can warm up the croissants and make more coffee.

I am walking like an old man, at least until i get on a roll, at which point I find it hard to stop.

The main news of the day is Storm Brian, and we are waiting here for it to hit Dover, but for the morning, it is dry and bright if windy. And I think it is good for me and my back to mow the lawn. Or to mow the parts that need to be seeded for the autumn.

It was a struggle at the end, but it gets done, half the lawn mowed, and now ready for seeding. I take to the sofa to whimper quietly whilst Jools carries on sorting out the compost and thin out flowers that have now finished. But just before lunchtime, the rain arrived.

Two hundred and ninety four And it was at this point we had decided to visit Jen. Driving along the A2 to Whitfield was like being in a monsoon, or driving in a river as the rain came down. And once at Jen's, we had to run the ten steps to the front door, getting soaked in the process. I sat in their conservatory, as the rain bounced down on the plastic roof, drowning out even my thoughts. The funeral date has been set, 1st October.

There is to be a meeting at which all photos of Tony and the Family are to be collected, ready for the funeral. But from what we found later that day, since Jools and I got together, we have taken very shots of the old fella. But then like most of us, he didn't like his picture taken.

Jools and I come back home; Jen has her best friend, Sylv, staying with her now. We leave the house to the sound of laughter as Betty is trying to select her bets for the afternoon's geegees.

No game for City on Saturday, so I Lay on the sofa as the rain hammers down again outside. The rest of the afternoon alternates between bright sunshine and biblical showers. The cats don't know what to make of it, apparently it requires more food. Always more food.

Huddersfield beat Man Utd 2-1, despite Mark Lawrenson not only writing of their chances that afternoon but the next week too. Huddersfield create and score two chances; all they needed really. We eat party food both for lunch and dinner, it is easy and requires just putting the nibbles on the baking tray then tipping off when cooked. Easy.

Outside it gets dark and the wind and rain continues. There is the chance of sunshine tomorrow, would be good to see too.

I am fit for nothing other than sitting on the sofa and watching more TV for the evening.

Saturday 21 October 2017

Friday 20th October 2017

On top of all the stuff that has been going on this month, Molly has also been under doctor's, or vet's, orders. She seems to have had such a major change in temperament, sometimes her eyes seem dilated and she is always hungry.

Two weeks ago a lump was found, but this was found to be more like fluid than anything more dangerous. She is suffering from high blood pressure, so has been put on medication, and yesterday she was due for a follow up. What we can say she is, apart from the blood pressure, she is in great health; good teeth, perfect blood work. So, what with her being as energetic as ever, we are not too concerned.

I was at least back home, but today we went with Jen to the hospital to collect the certificate, and then able to make an appointment with the local registrar. We spent a few hours with her, had lunch before we came back to do some gardening.

The two builders we have used on the last two jobs with the house and garden, and who were going to do the new beds for us, well, Steve has suffered health problems; yeah, I know. So it was left to us to dig the first of the beds in order to be able to plant the fritillaries we bought before the weather got too bad. There is another bed to be dug so we can move the ones we have already, but one thing at a time. So, I was digging the trench to put in the bulbs, it had to be about a foot deep, so with the soil being dry, it was like digging in concrete. I carried on, but as I dug further, my back began to complain, but then that is nothing new.

I reached the end, tried to stand up and it was like someone was stabbing me in the backside, but sciatic nerve had gone. With Jools' help we put in the bulbs, topped up with fresh compost then covered the trench up, stamping it down, by which point i could hardly walk.

I struggle to get in the house, and slump on the sofa, puffing away due to the pain. Jools gets me some drugs while I try to find a position in which I don't hurt.

Jools takes Molly to the vet for her check up; her pressure is low, but not low enough so has to double her drug dosage.

And then there was Mum.

When I left her on Wednesday, she wasn't feeling too well, blamed on a new machine that had been fitted, but she got really poorly during Wednesday, and due to an administrative mistake, none of the nurses could tell me anything. So, I waited all day Friday for the doctor to call me with an update as what was wrong, and just gone six she rang. Mum had been suffering from septicemia, and there was concern her new valve was the cause. In the meantime she was put on high dose antibiotics, and in 24 hours she was much improved.

Two hundred and ninety three I cook dinner, mostly standing on one leg due to the pain, and then once eaten I sit on the sofa all evening, as sitting at the table was proving to be so painful.

Another one of those days when there was so much going on, I really don't know where to start in describing it all. Maybe tomorrow will be better?

Friday 20 October 2017

Please EU, give me something: Brexit means Brexit.

Today the EU ministers of the remaining EU27 held their meeting to discuss progress on Brexit. In under 120 seconds they agreed there had not been sufficient progress to allow trade negotiations to begin. But, they would allow internal preparations in anticipation for a start in December.

May, Davis and the BBC spun this as good news, but the sting in the tail for May and her brave band of Brexiteers is that progress has to be made on all three of the basic issues. I know you have heard this from me before, but listening to the three above, one would believe that money was the only sticking point, not citizen's rights and the Irish border too.

A treasury report on the impact of a "no deal" Brexit was leaked last night, sent to a lawyer who has been a driver in forcing the UK Government to follow their own laws regarding Brexit. It makes gloomy reading, that through this total farce of the protracted initial negotiations, then trade and the rest, only for Britain to be so much more worse off at the end of it, and be that worse of each and every year.

Problem is for Britain and May is that each country in the EU27 has their own idea on how much we might actually owe them. And then the chancellor talks about how much is legally owed. Let me restate that if Britain goes down the legal route, which they might end up winning, could take years maybe a decade to win, and we leave the EU in 18 months time, and if there is no agreement on these three issues, then no trade deal. No travel deal. No EURATOM deal. No FTA. No citizen's right. Hard boarder through the middle of Ireland. Nothing. Nada.

How badly does Britain want a deal? Or put it this way, how much is Britain willing to pay in the settlement to get trade discussions moving?

But the real problem for Britain is that Brexit is by some way not the most important issue facing the EU27; Catalonia, the rise of the far right. Russia, Trump. Brexit should be easy. But then it is with Britain, who still does know what it wants, and is split in Cabinet, Government, Parliament and country. And deal is likely to be rejected by some part of Parliament, and/or one of the EU27.

The chief executive of Goldman Sachs was in Frankfurt yesterday for meetings, and tweeted how much he enjoyed the city and its climate. Just as well, he added, as I will be coming here much more #brexit . A real kick in the teeth to the City of London, and a part in the Conservatives that once tried to be the party of business and The City, and would have caused so much hell if a Labour Government was willing to allow London to lose its place as the financial and pharmaceutical centre of Europe. Now it is just part of the process, an everyday story of rats deserting the Brexit ship.

Still, sunlit uplands and mustn't talk the country down. Rule Britannia and all that.

Thursday 19th October 2017

Time to go home. Again. I wake up to see the light showing through the curtains, although I have to play the guess the time with the clock who said it might be as early as ten to six. Twenty past seven was the right answer.

I have a shower, pack and then have breakfast. It is quiet, and dull outside, but my mood is light as I will be back with Jools and them cats by nightfall. Every reason to be happy.

I load the car and remember to leave the door key in the safe beside the door. All ready now for the drive. I programmed the sat nav for Long Melford in Suffolk as a stop off point for lunch and as there is a very special church there. Although, you will not be disappointed to learn that the first part of the journey was along our old friend the 143, over the marshes to Beccles and then to Bungay, Diss before the sat nav then lead me along a series of six foot sixers, or narrow lanes, through woods, small villages and past churches just begging to be investigated. But that could be left for another day.

Across the railway line between Ipswich and Bury, then the A14 and further into the Suffolk badlands where every house could harbour a Town fan.

I eventually turn onto a main road, and sure that I am near to Melford. I turn off the main road along what must have once been the main road, coming to a crossroads where on the right hand side, the church stands next to the manor house and a pilgrim's hospital, both Tudor.

Holy Trinity, Long Melford, Suffolk I park the car at the bottom of the lane that lead to the church, which was lined on one side by timber framed houses, overhanging the road, whilst at the top on the other side was the Tudor hospital. And then the view opened up to reveal the church, a church on the scale of a cathedral, all built of flint of course, but with a substantial Lady Chapel at the east end, separate from the church, looking from that direction like a merchant's house, at least from the outside, with it's triple gable end.

THe church is vast, and the north side is filled with the finest collection of medieval stained glass I have ever seen. It is remarkable, filling the whole church with wonderful light. And then elsewhere there are brasses and private chapel to investigate, before leaving the church and walking to the Lady Chapel, of which I was the only visitor for a full quarter of an hour, with more fine ancient glass and wonderful carved roof beams. A stunning church

Back in the car, the sat nav claimed that I was within two hours and twenty minutes from home, which seemed optimistic, but lead lead me along the main road, then through some oddly names villages before emerging onto the A12 near to Chelmsford and the service station there, meaning I could fill the car up, as it had been reminding me for half an hour about the state of the fuel tank. That done, it was a twenty minute run to the M25, then along to Grays, over the bridge and into Kent.

I take the A2 as I was going to call in on the way to see how Jen was, and with the rush getting over the river done, I slow down to a stately 50 mph and enjoy the drive as people rush by me.

At Jen's, all is good. Well apart from Tony not being here any more of course. I was there when the coroner called, and said of the cause of death was heart disease, like Mum just had a close shave with. We have a cuppa and she tells me who she has spoken with this week, including her wayward son, Scott, who is working on some small island of the east coast of Australia. That cheered her up after hearing from the coroner.

And then it was time to go home, feed the cats and prepare dinner for when Jools returned from work. Almost back to normal. Almost.

The cats are fed, and there is pea and ham soup to warm up, not too difficult. After dinner we talk, but we both are so tired. We try to watch some TV but by nne we were so pooped we go to bed, whilst outside the wind blew and the rain fell.

A Russian Brexit conundrum

I have stayed away from commenting on what has been happening in the US, because quite frankly, with the clusterfuck that is Brexit going on here, we have no kudos to be able to point an accusing finger at another country trying to screw things up the the extent that we are. However, clearly there has been collusion between Trump's team and the Russian government, evidence is out there already, from e mails to links and all this is under several investigations.

But did Russia help with the Brexiteers for the referendum?

Well, a lot of money was thrown at the various leave campaigns, and quite where it came from remains a mystery. One of the more interesting cases is where did the DUP get the half million quid they spunked in the last few weeks of the campaign? Where did Aaron Banks get his money from, and where does Cambridge Analitica fit in to Brexit and the Trump presidency? Also, leaking of mails, how come Wikileaks only targeted the Dems, who was the link man between Trump and Wikileaks? Well, none other than arch Brexiteer, Nigel Farrage, who was photographed leaving the Ecuadorian Embassy back door, where Assange is holed up trying to evade a rape rap, and when asked why he had been there, Farrage stated he could not remember. This was as he was leaving the building. Man of the people, Nigel, was the first person to be photographed with the triumphant Trump after the election last November, gloating with Trump outside his gold plated lift.

Splitting the EU would benefit Russia, as would a weakened US, which let us not forget Trump has failed to nominate the vast number of positions in Government nine months after taking office; there is no amassador to North Korea of Secretary of State. But the EU trading block, weakened would make it easier for Russia to push its weight around.

Anyway, on Thursday night May spoke at a dinner for EU Ministers begging them for help in trying to sell a deal to the UK for her. This is what strong and stable leadership looks like, and at the same time is taking back control. Today, Friday, the EU is expected to issue the obvious rejection that "sufficient progress" has been made in talks so a second front on trade cannot begin.

May has steered her Government through the difficult months of September and October; through the Florence speech and then through the Party conference season, and is still in power. Or still PM, as the Government now whips its own MPs into not voting on any motion in the Commons that it stands a chance of losing, but at the same time will not engage when such votes are lost. Her government is only kept in power by the "supply and confidence" deal with the DUP, brokered by the £1 billion payment made to Northern Ireland. And a payment that might not actually be legal, and a hearing is taking place in the next few weeks on that legality.

The DUP themselves are as mixed up as the Tories, in wanting both no border with the Republic and also wanting to leave all of the EU institutions. Meaning not having a border and having one. This is issue is still to be addressed and solved, which would make talks on trade possible.

Saying all of that, having May as PM is probably the best the Conservative Party can do, as waiting in the wings are a number of candidates, Johnson, Rees-Mogg, etc, who would happily sell out their own country's future economic stability for some short term personal political ambition. As most of these are Eton educated and ex Oxbridge monied folks, whether the economy tanks is neither here nor there to them, as their families will have money stashed away around the world. They will always be rich, it is those who are just about managing now that will suffer the most. Bank rates will rise next month, as the pound slumps further and inflation rises to over 3%, it has to. But with wage stagnation, people's incomes will be squeezed. May is introducing a cap on energy prices, a policy derided at the last but one election for being socialist, but with all energy priced in US$, the exchange rate means that all energy is getting more expensive to buy. The cap will only be temporary.

It is not too hard to look down the line 18 months hence with mortgage rates climbing, grocery prices rising too, cost of energy climbing, and massive job losses beginning to kick in, and there being no deal with the EU in place, a real depression setting in, with no chance of an improvement for a decade or more. It has been estimated that the cost of a no deal Brexit would cost the British economy £400 billion by 2030.

Think of that huge number, and what that would mean spread out between every man, woman and child. Or only those of working age.

Thursday 19 October 2017

Wednesday 18th October 2017

I could lie in until, well, whenever I wanted. The alarm clock in the bedroom has batteries that are nearly flat, so once it is light, I try to see what the time is, then try to guess by how much the clock has lost in the 8 hours since I had but it right. The clock said just gone six, meaning it could be any time from then to eight, or even later. But before seven it would be light, or getting light. So, I have no idea.

So I get up and find it is twenty to eight, time for coffee and put the radio on. Some lively banter is called for.

There is the rest of the kitchen to clean up, MUm who no longer cooks to any degree, and certainly does not bake anymore, has five pots of spooks, stirrers, corers and other stuff I have no idea what they are for. Mixed in are some tools that are either good quality plastic of carbon fibre, so keep those and all the rest is put in the bin. Or would have if there was any room, as it is still full of cuddly toys.

Anyway, I am not done yet, I clear the cupboard where the hot water boiler is, but it is covered in pots and pans and old over dishes. They are all gone out too, leaving the best few to use, if needed.

I go to the tip, taking another hour once there, but the traffic through town means it takes two. I kid you not, and next week one of the lanes to Oulton Broad bridge is to be closed southbound for three weeks, it will be a standstill.

It is lunchtime, so I go to Tesco for a roll, some crisps and a twin pack of egg custards. I would not starve.

I then consult the list of people to call, and inform all those I had not yet called of Mum's condition, and a barely concealed plea for them to visit her.

I had told her neighbours they could go, so had decided not to visit her in the afternoon, only to find later that she had no visitors at all until I turned up at half six, after I had spent an afternoon in her garden, deadheading and the usual stuff that needs doing.

I am now convinced that the house is ready for her return, not that she will be too happy with what I have done, but hey.

I leave at six, going to Tesco to pick up a pot of soup for dinner, before driving to the hospital, finding a space and being walking to the ward door at dead on half six. Behind me, people who had been waiting for ages just follow in my wake.

Two hundred and ninety one Mum is the same, she feels drained, but the nurses assure me there is yet more progress. I tell her I am off home in the morning and she should be deluged with visitors with the amount of calls I have made.

I bid her farewell, and she is honest in saying the past four weeks have been hard and more painful than she had ever imagined it would be. So, I had to say that she must remember that when she is tempted to smoke. And with that I am gone, and she will now being looked after by the nurses and other health professionals who will decide when she is to be released and what she needs at home, equipment and carers. Not much else I can do, nor her friends, really.

I am home just gone eight, so I warm up the soup, cut some fresh bread and butter it. I am shattered again.

More footy on the radio again, so I sit in the armchair and listen.

Tuesday 17th October 2017

I suppose, before we go on with the great Mum chase, as it will be forever known, here are some updates:

1. Tony/Dad/Jen and the family: As I said on Sunday, Jen has come to terms with Tony's death. I mean, you can't ignore it, and no amount of tears and swear words will bring him back. Doesn't mean she don't miss him, we all do, but there is a stack of things to do. Starting with clearing out what of his possessions she does not want to keep. Of course there are reminders of him all over the house, from packs of rolling tobacco, his glasses, his medicines, photographs and on and on and on. Cath has been helping, and Jools goes round each evening. Jools is still working, she says it is best to work through it. She is pragmatic about it, so, has told people at work so they know things may not seem to be as normal.

Jen is waiting to hear from the coroner as to the cause of death and then for the body to be released and only then can the funeral be arranged and the certificate be issued and finally the death be registered. She has her best friend from Bolton coming down on Friday, so Jen is going to meet her off the train in London. A day out for her and John, who lost his wife last year. It has been that kind of year, really.

2. Mum is much better. For a while she was disconnected from all machines, but as you will see from below, she now has a new box of electronic tricks to help with her healing process by gathering the fluid that should not be in her body. I mean it is easy to forget that she had such a major operation, and recovery is so fragile. But the doctors and nurses will not commit to a timeframe of how long she is going to be in hospital. How long is a piece of string was the only straight answer I got. All depends on how well she heals, the work needed to be done at her home and whether she does the exercises she is told she needs to. And then in the long term is her life choices, she changes. Or doesn't. If she doesn't she loses her son, some of her friends and will not be able to have any more medical care like she has just had.

3. And finally, allergies. Despite having couple of close shaves with sneezing fits and stuff, but as I am two months into my allergy season and not to have suffered a poor nights sleep, so poor it needs me to take a day off. There is no real reason for this, I can't say I have been more careful with shower gel and deodorant that in previous years, but I have been largely free of anything resembling an allergy attack. And long may that continue of course. And on top of that, my egg intolerance is over too. Might be connected one might think, only the allergy attacks have been going on for at least six years, and the intolerance only began two years ago. But all in all, pretty positive stuff.

And so onto the great Mum chase.

I knew, and said to Mum that this is what would happen, that she would get 5 minutes notice that the ambulance would be waiting and she would be away back to James Paget. And as I never got an answer from the early morning shit at Papworth, I had given up on calling until the afternoon shift began after midday, which meant that if I did that, I would not get to the hospital until three or so. Monday, I did not call the hospital at all, just set off for the hospital in the hope that she would still be there. If not she would be well enough to be moved. So good news either way, really.

I go for another walk to Fisher Row and along Oulton Dyke. It was another glorious morning, all clear blue skies and the promise of many fallen leaves after the wind the night before. So I park at the church and make my way down the lane to the edge of the marshes, checking my time to ensure I arrive at the foot crossing at the same time as the train to Norwich passed by. Would it be a pair of 37s? Two hundred and ninety In a word, no. I could hear the sound of overworked DMU engines long before I saw the 156 round the bend under the bridge with carried Prospect Road over the line. Another walk to Fisher Row I walk on, seeing more dragonflies and butterflies, even on a breezy day. I meet a couple of people, pass the time of day with them, and remark how lucky we were to be out on a day like this. At the other crossing, also carefully times, I wait for the service from Norwich, and as two weeks before, I was rewarded with a single car 153 rattling along which would have been uncomfortable for any passengers on board. Another walk to Fisher Row THere is always another church or two, and Simon had recommended another handful in the Diss area that I should visit. So I set off at eleven once again, sighing as I drove out through Somerleyton to St Olaves before picking up our old friend, the 143, then plodding along behind a series of truck and tractors until I reach Diss, and then a few miles further along I turn off and drive out towards Redgrave.

Another walk to Fisher Row Redgrave church could be seen as the lane meandered through the farmland and fields. I knew we would get there, at some point. The church stood on a slight rise, about ten feet above the level of the lane which lazily passed by. Inside the churchyard were two cars which partly spoiled the view of the church, but once inside I saw that there was a stage either being built or taken down, and there were two chaps doing the work. After a bad experience in deepest Suffolk a couple of years back under similar circumstances, but this was to be different. The two chaps were wardens, or guardians under the ownership of the CCT, and one of them was very keen to point out to me the points of interest of the church. Turns out we have a mutual friend, John Vigar, so we swapped news, then when I said I live in Kent, the other gentleman was from Shepherdswell, and so we discussed the church there and at Waldershare.

Another walk to Fisher Row But time was pressing, and I was off to see another nearby church which I was told was good if you liked the unusual. Burgate was again at the edge of the village, and I saw it about half a mile off. Outside had been largely rendered, so making any blocked doors of arches hard to see. And inside it had the most glorious roof, the same width even into the chancel, with what looked like carved medallions where the rood would once have been. There was a war memorial with candle holders made out of old shell casing, and various nooks and crannies around the walls, with figures making it seem higher than it probably was.

As ever, time had beaten me, so I left after signing the visitor's book and got back on the 143 and carried on towards Bury. I stopped at Tesco for some lunch and to get change for the parking at the hospital. That there is such a thing is effectively a tax on the sick and their families. Two pounds fifty gets you a couple of hours no matter how little your actual stay is, which was to become an issue this day. As again there were parking spaces, driving round and round until there was a tricky space in which I could squeeze the Corsa into. I get the ticket, put it in the car and walk to the private building, up the stairs and along the corridor to room 10.

It was empty, the bed bare of bedding and the floor washed. Either Mum had transferred or had taken a turn for the very worse. I go to the nurse station, and they check their notes, yes she left at half two, some half an hour ago, meaning I had passed her on the Cambridge by-pass I suppose. There was nothing to stay for, so I say thanks and go back to the car for the drive home.

Much the same as before, I make good time to get past Cambridge, then to Newmarket and to Bury. From then on it is always a lottery as to whether you could drive like the wind for an hour or get stuck behind tractors and truck thus more than doubling the journey time. The night before was better, as half of it was undertaken as it was getting dark, and farmers would be at their tables having ham and eggs or something. Tuesday was not a day like that, lots of tractors about in the late afternoon light, going hither and thither. The trip took two and a half hour in all, getting back just before six.

I have time to have a coffee and clear up the last of the custard creams before driving over to Gorleston to see Mum and give her the dressing gowns I had washed the night before. I find her on ward 2, connected to a box that would speed up her recovery, but she was disoriented, and unsteady on her feet. She is down, really quite down indeed. Although she is well on the road to recovery. I think it is having a box plumbed back in, after thinking she was past all of that. But for me it has been a long day, six hours driving, then to Gorleston, and I have yet to eat, so I promise a long stay in tomorrow, saying I will tell her friends that she is close to home and they can visit her, and I will come in the evening, as I had a day of yet more cleaning planned, the final parts before I can bid the old family home goodbye.

I call into Fir Lane chippy for Skate and Chips, and freshly cooked they were too, so when I got home and had made a brew, the battler on the skate was still crispy. And so much of it. So many chips. I tried but could not eat them all. I was beaten.

For the rest of the evening I sat in the armchair, all puffed out listening to the football on the radio. More European games. So ended yet another day, but I had come to the conclusion that one more day and I would go back to Chez Jelltex.

Monday 16th October 2017

Monday morning, and here I am in the faintly nicotine tinged bedding at Mum’s. I have tried to make it better, but there is only so much a young fella can do.

I get up, have a coffee, then breakfast and ponder the day. I know from past experience, there is no point in calling the hospital before I leave, therefore as a friend I know on the way was back from his travels, I thought I would call in on him on the way, as Mendlesham is a short diversion.

There was one more church beside the 143 I was aware of, as there was a brown sign pointing to an “historic” church. Aren’t they all in EA? It is under the care of the CCT which usually means it would be unlocked, but after parking, I go to try the door, and it is locked. On the notice board there was details of a key holder, so as I tried to orientate the map with the road, the door opened.

I thought you were a ghost said the lady the other side of the door.

She lets me in and I begin to snap away. Do you know anything of the history of the church she asks. I say I don’t, but point out some of the features that allows me to see how the chuch has changed; there is a clear and good set of Rood Stairs, and clearly there was a side chapel, but no sign of a squint that would probably have been there. I talk about the glass, and say which I think was old, most of it was Victorian, and pretty poor if truth be told.

I advised them to go to Whenaston and then to Blythburgh to see more wonders. They were taking notes, so maybe they did go there afterwards.

Time was getting on, so I go to see Rob, and we have a great chat and they ply me with tea, which was very nice. It is good to have talks with people, rather than me arguing with my inner monologue.

I leave theirs at half twelve, and press on to Bury, stopping of at Tesco for lunch of sandwiches, crisps, a Twix and a bottle of Coke; all four food groups. And I then eat as I drive up the A14, probably breaking a couple of laws at the time too.

I arrive at Papworth to find all of East Anglia was visiting too, meaning there were no free parking spaces. I mean no free spaces at all. A train of cars goes round and round for half an hour until each one of us find a space. I get a small one next to a building that just about manage to get the car into.

Up to see Mum on the ward, and as usual, not much to say, and she has no news of a transfer.

When I get back into the car, RadMac are talking about a red sky seen in Manchester, and in time the clouds roll over, and the sun which was bright and yellow earlier was now red and angry. A hurricane, a real hurricane not one two weeks past its sell by date, but a genuine hurricane was tracking up the west coast of Ireland, and it was dragging air from North Africa, meaning the air was full of sand particles, causing the light to be shifted down the spectrum; hence, red sun, pink and yellow clouds.

Two hundred and eighty nine Once on the 143 I stop to take a snap at the odd light, but the sun was long since gone. And the low and sand laden clouds brought dusk 90 minutes early, although many drivers apparently failed to notice and were driving without any lights, and so barely able to be seen.

I get home at half six; long since dark and just glad to be home safe and sound. If not home, then at Mum’s. I had stopped at the butcher on Gorleston Road to buy a huge lamb steak, so fry that and cook mashed potatoes and make both disappear along with the last of the 2007 vintage wine in the living room.

Oh well.

Football on the radio, and me writing blogs at the same time. Usual evening for here.

Some Brexit realities

In order to debunk some claims and statements that have been made on potential delays and/or cancelling of the Article 50 process. Those who read these words regularly will already know this, but needs restating from time to time.

1. As said many times, the final part of Brexit Britain had control over was if and when the notification under Article 50 was made.

2. From then on, all other steps in “Brexit”, was under the control of the EU27

3. Although there has been suggestion that the word “intention” in clause 1 of A50 means that under Britain’s constitution, we could reverse the process.

4. Clause 3 makes it clear that by the unanimous agreement of the EU27 or the UCJ, the A50 process will end either with or without a deal after exactly 2 years.

5. There is nothing May, the Cabinet, Government of Parliament can do to change this. We can ask the EU27 or the UCJ to either pause of reverse the notification, but agreement is not given, and such agreement would only depend on it being in the EU27’s interests. Appeal to the UCJ is possible, but A50 is part of the highest level of EU law, and is unlikely to be reversed.

6. Even if Parliament has a vote on the final deal or no deal, and it is rejected, this would make no difference, as pausing or revoking A50 would still require agreement of the EU27.

7. There is no chance that anyone in Parliament, the Commons or Lords could “sabotage” Brexit, it will happen unless the EU27 r the UCJ says otherwise.

8. Talks on trade can only begn when the EU27 agree that “sufficient progress” has been made on the three key issues: the Irish border, financial settlement and EU/UK citizen’s rights. It is likely that progress on two of the three would not be enough, especially if the Irish Border is not agreed.

9. It is Britain that decided to leave the EU, so it should have identified issues and have solutions to these. May and the Brexiteers were told of the issues, but ignored

10. And the A50 notification sent before any issues were identified and what the ultimate goal of the talks were to be.

11. The EU27 has managed the task of being united from the first policy document in April to date. Ultimately, they have concluded that the preservation of the Single Market by protecting the four freedoms more important that trade with the UK.

12. Britain has failed to address most of the policy papers that the EU has published, instead publishing its own weeks later, that already the EU27 have rejected in their earlier paper.

13. Any deal that might be agreed has to be ratified by all EU27 and probably up to a dozen regional Parliaments, as well as the EU itself and the ECJ.

14. Any deal that is agreed has to be in compliance with EU law, hence ratification from the UCJ

15. It would not matter who was Prime Minister, May, Johnson, Leadsome, Gove, Corbyn, the above conditions and issues would still be there.

16. There is no deal that would be “better” than being part of the largest Free Trade Area in the world. There are only degrees of damage that other deals or a no deal would do to the economy, wages, jobs and inflation. 17. Brexiteers will try to blame the failure of Brexit on anything other than either themselves or Brexit itself. The EU, judges, the press, other MPs, Remoaners, “foreigners. And so on. Failure of Brexit, and its potential success depends on replacement of those who do not believe with “evangelical Brexiteers”. Say no more.

18. If Britain wanted to leave the EU, it could stop paying into the EU budget now and refusing to comply with UCJ judgements. However, under WTO rules, Britain would still be part of the EU until 29th March 2019 and so unable to even talk about the possibility of a trade deal with any other country.

19. All the above also applies to any Transition Agreement too. EU27 would all have to agree, it be in the EU’s interest and clear as to what the transition was towards. Also sufficient progress on the 3 basic issues would be needed too.

20. Britain understood the A50 process and the time limit, yet entered into it anyway, knowing that with each week that passed, it ramped up the pressure on Britain not the EU.

21. Any deal will be what the EU27 decides to offer Britain. The choice will be whether to accept this or not. A genuine Hobson’s choice.

22. Finally, there is no escaping reality. What will happen, will happen. Regardless how many times it is said that “Brexit means Brexit”, and that either German car makers of Italian Prosecco producers would push for a deal.