Thursday, 4 December 2025

Wednesday 3rd December 2025

For the third day in a row, and of this month, the picture of the day is food related.

So it goes, so it goes.

We woke up un-hungry, so decided instead of having brunch, we would go to the chippy restaurant in Deal for lunch.

Early lunch.

I slept in until twenty to eight, so the morning seemed very short indeed. Jools was still feeling off, so there was no walking or going to the gym.

Golden Wednesday And outside the scattered showers forecasted, turned out to be heavy and frequent, and clouds dark enough to have the table lamp on most of the day.

We had stuff to drop off at the charity shop in Deal, and if we ate out for lunch, we could delay going to Tesco until Thursday, thus meaning we needn't go over the weekend.

Bouncing it down We left at half eleven, and indeed it was bouncing down, and on the Deal road where it weaves through the wood, so dark it seemed like night.

Water collected at the bottom of the hill into a shallow bath. We splashed through that, though traffic was going barely above thirty.

The sky and sea were dark and angry, as we drove to the car park, finding a space near the chippy, so it would take only a minute or two to walk quickly there, dodging the raindrops.

Three hundred and thirty seven Good news was that my favourite, skate wing, was on. So I ordered that, and Jools had a medium haddock. So, we sat and waited, sipping our brews and people watching.

Business was slow, just half the tables inside taken, and only a trickle of people in the take away. But it was early, I guess.

The skate came all golden and crunchy where the batter gathered and was deep fried. Underneath the flesh was pure white and fresh.

I couldn't finish the chips! So left half. It came to £39, and to think back in the mid-70s, cod and chips twice, and a battered sausage and chips used to cost £1.69 from Hall Road chippy, the best in town and worth sending your only son on his bike crossing the main road there and back.

We bought a few things in town, then rushed back to the car as another storm front swept over, bringing ever harder rain and gloomy light.

I drove is back, getting us home safe, so we spent the afternoon watching Gone Fishing for two hours.

By the time the series finished, it was dark outside, so I made fresh brews and we fed the cats.

For the evening there was more football, which I watched, as televised footy doesn't watch itself. Second game was Liverpool v Sunderland, which ended 1-1, but Liverpool very poor again.

Wednesday, 3 December 2025

Tuesday 2nd December 2025

I had pondered how to fit phys into the schedule with Tuesday morning being given over to driving to Gatwick and back.

I considered going Monday to make it three days in a row, or doing Wednesday and Thursday.

But as I usually go very early on Tuesday so Jools could go to her phys class in town, I decided to go earlier, be at the gym at five past six, so get my session done and be back home by seven.

Which is what I did. Up at five, get dressed, drink coffee and out of the house at five to six. On the bike by ten past, and cycling round Paris again for forty minutes.

Festive times at the sports centre Time was now short, so back home to have a shower, get changed and have a brew, peel and chop potatoes for roasts later, and still be on the road by quarter to eight.

Phew.

I listened to the end of Word in Your Ear, then Danny Kelly on Spurs' latest problems as I drove.

You know the route by now: Dover to Folkestone on the A20, then up through Ashford and Maidstone on the motorway, then west to the M25.

At least the rain showers expected never arrived, and instead it was glorious sunshine once the clouds parted.

Their plane wasn't due to land until ten, but sometimes the winds blow a plane over very quickly. I once flew from Boston to London in well under five hours, so I wanted to be close to the airport.

Three hundred and thirty six Then I could stop at Clackett Lane Services, have a coffee and pulled pork toastie and as I ate, check on the status of the flight.

Santa Claus is coming to Clacket Lane I would leave there once the plane touched down, giving me about a twenty mile run to Gatwick, by which time I hope the plane would have taxied, unloaded than Jen and Jane got through immigration and baggage reclaim.

No call came, and my calls went unanswered, so once at Gatwich, I parked up in McDonalds to wait.

Only problem was that you had to buy something, then get your ticket validated before the barrier would let you out.

I had a hash brown and a cheese and bacon flatbread, which was most underwhelming.

As I went to sit in the car, Jen called to say they were now leaving arrivals. So I arranged to meet them, driving round the ring road, no roadside pick up, so in the parking garage, up to level three, so I texted Jen the details, and once parked I looked out the window and there was Jen pushing a suitcase almost as big as she.

I'm here, Jen I went down to meet them, then into the lift and up to the car, squeezing the four cases and bags in before driving down to the exit. Where a ten minute stay cost me £7 to get out.

Anyway, that paid, we escape and get onto the motorway, head north to the M25 junction, before cruising east at 50mph, as we had all day, into Kent before turning south back to Maidstone.

Traffic was light, weather sunny and warm. It was perfect for driving.

Obviously on the way we talked about the stuff they missed and what they had done on the cruise.

Time flew.

I dropped them off at just gone half midday, dumped the cases the back home.

Phew.

After a brew, I warm the duck fat for the roast potatoes that Jools had boiled and drained, and 90 minutes later after basting three times, and cooking the pies, vegetables and warming through the pot of gravy, we sat down at about three to eat a fine meal.

And that was it for the day, really. Outside the sun set in the west and the waxing moon was already high in the south sky.

We watched some Gone Fishing, and then retired to our hobbies: Jools upstairs doing beading and me watching more football on the telly.

Yes, more football, but Citeh hung on to win at Fulham 5-4. Yes, 5-4. And Tottenham somehow drew 2-2 at Newcastle.

Entertaining stuff.

Tuesday, 2 December 2025

Monday 1st December 2025

December will be magic. So sang the Blessed Kate some forty five years ago.

And we loved her.

And indeed, it is December again, and another month of sloth and idleness for Jools and I, over eight months since retirement.

And with the winds set to blow and blow wind at the house all day. We did little.

Of any note.

Jools is feeling a little off colour, so we lollygagged around once we had eaten breakfast, though Jools did take her Aunt to the doctors, but felt pretty crappy upon her return, so took to bed with an ice pack and slept for a couple of hours, surrounded by three of our four cats.

I just did more of not much substance, though I did think it would be good to have the main meal for lunch, so made crunchy-coated haddock, more grains, steamed vegetables and the rest of the wonderful cheese and mustard sauce, which we smothered over our plates.

It had to be used up.

And then an afternoon of Bangers and Cash on one of the lesser TV channels, nice gentle stuff, while we tried to stay awake.

Supper was a selection of stinky French cheeses, crackers and wine. But from Tesco now that No Name Shop has closed.

Three hundred and thirty five The cheeses were OK. The wine wonderful, and a reminder why I don't drink it now, as two glasses were not enough, but I resisted opening a second bottle. Instead had some of the Masala wine that Jools uses to make tiramisu.

There was football on telly, of course, but as I was to be up at five in the morning, I went to bed at nine. So was fast asleep when Jen rung to see if I had remembered that I was picking her up at Gatwick in the morning.

Yus. I'll be there.

Sunday 30th November 2025

It is Sunday.

And sunny.

But cold.

And to start the day, we head to Whitfield for some phys.

The usual faces seen as we park the car and walk to the entrance. Words of greetings are exchanged, as are self-judgements that we must be mad to be here at quarter past seven.

I cycle round the Loire Valley for forty minutes while the Parallel Universe pays in my ears.

More people arrive, and are when we leave, happy that we had done our session, already.

We go home via the filling station, as I have to pick Jen and Jane up at Gatwick on Tuesday, and motorway fuel stops are very expensive.

Three hundred and thirty four That done, and chocolate bought, we go home for breakfast and a shower, then wonder what to do with the day.

We don't do much with the day, really. The morning passes with the radio on and us messing around online.

Football starts at midday, but I don't fancy the Scottish game on offer. Instead, I make lunch, chorizo hash, all ready for half one.

We eat that, wash up so I can watch the first of the two Prem games: West Ham v Liverpool, which Liverpool ease to an easy 2-0 win. With the home side not really having any confidence they would score.

So don't.

Chelsea v Arsenal was a stinker, and I got quite angry as to how dreadful it was, with all the feigning of injuries to get opposition players sent off.

Cheese and crackers for supper. And with wine, as it had been ten days since I had had a sip.

The fine day had given way to a wet and windy night, that was to continue all through Monday.

So, hold onto your hats!

Sunday, 30 November 2025

All back to Brexit (reprise)

Last week the Labour Government announced its latest budget, or was it a financial statement?

Anyway, other than fiddling round the edges with taxes, the key issue of flatlining growth and productivity were not addressed.

In addition, further punative measures were announced against assylum seekers, which in the sclae of GDP was like demanding a penny change after buying a car.

Assylum seekers could be allowed to work, so pay for their upkeep. Butits seems more important to blame them for all the country's ills and pay billions in hotel bills for them, rather than fix the problem of the application backlog.

And it pandering to the right wing mouth-breathers of Farage and his ilk.

I did not vote Labour for them to ignore their voters' concerns to butter up racists. Farage supporters will not vote Labour because they have gone all right wing, they'll vote for Farage, and all it does is legitimise his policies.

Nothing is being done regarding Brexit, and indeed, last week new measures were brought in by the UK and the EU which makes trading by small businesses almost impossible, some have already given up and closed their online shops.

Meanwhile, in the Daily Torygraph Business Section, there was this headline:

When will the madness of Brexit be talked about by the political classes of both abour and the Conservatives?

Saturday 29th November 2025

And so to the weekend.

And being the weekend, that means an early morning to the gym.

Jools made coffee, then I go alone to Whitfield, getting there at twenty past seven, just before the sun rises.

Up the stairs and on the bike. I cycle round Paris again, I seem to enjoy cities more than countrysides. But I have a new Parallel Universe to listen to for the weekend, so set that up and am transported to 1970, with The Beatles about to release their last single before spitting.

So it goes.

Then to Tesco for some vegetables, as I forgot those the last time I went. And yet managed to forget the spinach.

So it goes.

So back home for half eight, on with the wireless and make second brews and breakfast.

Rain was due to fall all morning, so not worth going out. And anyway, I had a second beer delivery coming, so I had better stay in.

Three hundred and thirty three The morning was filled with having a shower and listening to Huey on the wireless, then at one, the football was underway, so I watched one of the lunchtime games before settling down on the sofa for the main batch of games.

Norwich had not won a game of any kind since the end of August. We have a new manager now, and failed to beat one of the team right above us in the table midweek, drawing 1-1 with Oxford.

A line up a decade in the making But then Oxford beat Ipswich on Friday evening, so who knows?

On Saturday, we were playing QPR at home, a team that was on a run of three games without defeat.

Norwich took the lead, then conceded within two minutes, then scored two more on the half hour.

And more than hung on for the three points. At kick off we were eight points from safety, and at full time, just five points.

A line up a decade in the making But its just one game.

Still, a wins a win.

Sunset was spectacular, bright red light and clouds from the west spreading over the sky.

I took shots.

Dinner was breaded chicken, grains, steamed corn and cauliflower. For which I made a cheese and mustard sauce, which was magnificent, and blended the whole meal together perfectly.

Then there were two Premier League games, one kicking off at half five, then Spurs v Fulham at eight.

I swear I looked away twice in the first four minutes of the Spurs game, and they conceded both times.

As it is the time of year we remember those who we lost from my RAF trade, I had a beer during the evening and toasted to those now in the care of St Barbara.

Saturday, 29 November 2025

Friday 28th November 2025

It appears there's a Friday every week.

And it's Friday.

Again.

Somehow.

The weeks and months rattle by, its nearly December and Christmas.

As its not a phys day, I don't set the alarm, so fall back to sleep at least three times after Jools got up at five.

I convince myself it must be nearly seven, but my phone tells me its three minutes to six.

I get up.

Jools leaves for yoga, having washed up, tested, jabbed and fed Scully, fed the other cats, made a tea, out out the bins and got ready to go out.

She leaves as I walk down the stairs, so boil the kettle for coffee.

Outside its a fine if cold morning, though no frost. I was going to go for a walk, but don't.

I wait for Jools to come home for breakfast, which I do, and Jools says that she's hungry. We had bacon, we had rolls.

So I combine the two after grilling the bacon and make butties and brews.

I wash up, and Jools goes out again to the library for her craft and gossip morning. Coffee is also drunk and biscuits also dunked and eaten.

I collect the bins and check on Scully, then give her half a pack of food.

Someone on Jools's group has no heating, we have a spare electric blanket, so I am tasked in finding it, then taking it up to the library.

Three hundred and thirty two Which I do.

Which also means I can take Jools back home before the unforecasted rain sweeps in later.

The couple without the heating come round for the afternoon, so to be in the warm, and to chat. Though the husband, John, talks at me, Jools and his wife. And is not really interested in much what I say.

Latest delivery They stay ninety minutes, then leave as their plumber was due. And peace returned to Chez Jelltex.

Northern Monk Interstellar Haze DDH Hazy IPA Darkness fell, rain swept in, so we closed the curtains early to shut the world out.

I try to win the quiz, so guess early and get it wrong. Oh well, a new round starts next week.

And there was football for the evening: Oxford, who Norwich failed to beat were playing host to Ipswich. And in a turn up, Oxford win 2-1 with the winner being scored by an ex Norwich player.

Thomas Hardy Ale Of course.

Friday, 28 November 2025

Thursday 27th November 2025

Less than a month to Christmas, and instead of the usual Belgian beer 12 Beers of Christmas, I have sourced some new ones from the UK, Germany and France, as well as an old favourite or two from Belgium.

Three hundred and thirty one I think I have fifteen or sixteen beers for the twelve beers of Christmas this year.

Being a Thursday, the day started off with coffee then to the sports centre where I rode along the waterfront in San Francisco.

Misty morning, Whitfield Jools went swimming, so that when I finished, I nipped to Tesco for some essentials, then back to pick Jools up and be home for half seven, before the school run started.

Phew.

This was the day that we had tickets for a light show at Hyde Hall in the evening. And due to Scully's diabetes, we decided Jools should go and me stay to measure her sugars, rather than put that responsibility on anyone else, even if we could find someone who would do it.

Sun in the mist Also meant that the planned visit to Mundon church would be put off until the new year.

Oh well.

That and I was expecting a delivery of beer in the afternoon.

Jools left shortly after ten, as she was going to Bluewater (shudder) before crossing the Thames into Essex.

Despite lower readings, Scully was demanding food, pretty much all day. Which we think is habit rather than actually being hungry.

It is hard to ignore, however.

I watch some crap TV during the afternoon, sitting beside Scully after her midday snack, and that settled her down for a few hours.

So, we sat on the sofa until it began to grow dark, and the delivery arrived, so I had to find a place to store it. Luckily we had empty cupboards in the utility room.

Titanic Cherry Porter Grand Reserve, Jools was away until the evening, as the gardens didn't open until five, so I made myself a small dinner, opened a bottle of Plum Porter and listened to a history podcast as I ate.

The cats were fed, and again Scully wasn't satisfied with two dinners, and only did settle after a check on her sugars at nine and another half packet of food.

By that time, Jools was home, so she ate supper before going to bed. And me followed soon after, as the football was just average. Well, it wasn't, but I was a tired bear.

Thursday, 27 November 2025

Wednesday 26th November 2025

Wednesday, and a day of changed plans.

We were due to go to an evening event in Essex at a NT place, but we forgot I had a church tour to lead in the afternoon.

So, we moved the tickets to Thursday.

And then there is Scully. We can't really expect someone, a neighbour or friend to take on the responsibility to measure her blood sugars, administer the insulin jab and then feed her, and adjust the insulin depending on the readings.

Heck even for us there is a certain amount of guess work.

So, the only thing was for Jools to go on Thursday and me stay home and look after he cats. Scully in particular, thus leaving Wednesday free for churchcrawling and now able to go to Bridge.

I dropped Jools off first thing near the castle, so she could walk through Connaught Park to the Riverside Centre for her keep fit class, and get some steps in.

After dropping her off, I go back along Reach Road and the cliffs back home.

I have time for a brew, breakfast, and wash up before I have to leave for another new part of Kingsdown.

Off what counts as the main road into the village, down a side lane, then along a gravel private road, to a large detached house where Margaret lives.

She is hosting this week, and my first time here. There is a nasty flu going round, and much of the group is infected or unwell.

I have my crib sheet for bidding, as there are a myriad of bidding conventions. I try to get things right.

In fact, thanks to the sheet I do well, and so my partner and I make two tricky contracts either side of the tea break.

All U3A activities revolve round tea and cake. Just so you know.

And then it is time to head home, where Jools had just arrived from town via train and bus, from the heart of Chaplins where she's had a small breakfast, so wasn't hungry.

I quickly made cheese on toast with slices from the ciabatta loaf I got out to go with the soup. Had a brew, then off to Deal to collect Martina, as she is disabled and cannot drive far.

I make it to her house with half an hour to spare, so listen to a podcast to while away the time.

There'd be no point in going early as we would have to wait for the rest of the group to arrive.

We set off at quarter past one, and make it to Waldershare by twenty to two. You reach the church up a small muddy track, which leads to a small "car park" near the lych gate.

Within ten minutes, six more cars arrive, ore than possibly have ever visited the church, filling the car park.

I gather the group to welcome them to the church. Look at the triple gable, I say, pointing to the flint nave and brick built north and south chapels, of the same dimensions.

We go inside, and the church is how John Vigar describes: austere, with a high roof, Victorian Chancel. And on either side, wooden screens leading to the two chapels.

In the south is a large tomb with two figures on top, holding hands through eternity. It is an unusually intimate representation, not often seen.

In the north is a memorial so large, the chapel itself was built around it, and it fills the space.

On each corner are four full sized mourning women, naked of course. And above two layers with winged cherubs, also mourning.

Higher up, near the roof, are vases or urns, and what may be a flame, in stone, at the top.

It is remarkable.

And thankfully the group thinks the church is remarkable too.

I worrried that a small estate church wouldn't have enough of interest, but the memorials showed that something like this church, a place they all had driven past dozens of times over the year, was worth half a hour or anyone's time.

After forty five minutes, we leave, and I take Martina back to Deal, then drive back along The Strand and out through Walmer to home.

No roadworks.

Once home and after a brew, I made dinner: minted lamb, roasted vegetables, pan-fried wilted kale (I'm not a fan), and some ancient grains.

Three hundred and thirty When I arrived home, the local fox was under the feeders munching on peanuts. He was so hungry that as I stood to watch, he just carried on eating.

So I went inside, got the big lens out and took a hundred or so shots.

It was good. Apart from the kale.

For the evening there was football. On the telly, WBA v Brum, and an entertaining 1-1 draw it was, whilst Liverpool lost 4-1 at home to PSV and Arsenal put Bayern to the sword, 3-0.

Tuesday 25th November 2025

One month to Christmas!

Get your sprouts on.

Being a say that began with the letter "T" or "S", it was a gym day. And as Jools has fitness right after, I have to be back by about seven fifteen, so am out of the house shortly after six, and up before half five.

Three hundred and twenty nine I am more focussed now I'm retired than when I was at work!

There is another frost, but the wind had dropped, so the scamper across the car park once I arrived wasn't so brisk.

A bracing walk in Deal Upstairs to the gym, where it was already pretty busy, and on the bike. Earphones in. Select podcast.

A bracing walk in Deal And cycle.

For today's eyecandy, I cycle round Jakarta. Where the main road had been closed for bikes and pedestrians.

A bracing walk in Deal The forty minutes went by quickly, so I dry off and go downstairs, and once I had my jumper on, back out to the car.

A bracing walk in Deal The sun was nearly up, and the clods over France had a golden edge to them as it rose higher.

I drove back onto the A2, the along the Deal road, early enough to miss the rush hour and school run traffic.

A bracing walk in Deal I have a brew with Jools before she leaves, and I can have a shower and dry off again, feeling nearly as fit as a fiddle.

A bracing walk in Deal When she returns, we have breakfast, then out to Deal to drop some more books off at a charity shop, then have a coffee out.

I go for a walk along the promenade first, cutting onto the Stand before crossing by the pier, then walking south towards the castle, to snap the fishing boats that had been hauled up onto the beach.

A bracing walk in Deal It was cold enough to have a jumper and coat on, the old work jacket now loose enough that I can wear a second layer underneath and still be able to breath.

A bracing walk in Deal I walk back to the pier and cross The Stand again, then down over the car park onto the High Street and into the Lounge, where Jools was just finishing off some tapas.

A bracing walk in Deal I order a cheese toastie and a pot of tea, then take in the surroundings and décor, and try not to be obviously people watching.

Lunch came and was tasty enough, they had even added some bacon though I did not order it or pay for it.

It was too cold to walk around ay more, so back to the car then out onto the road and back home.

It was nearly one.

I listen to a podcast, while Jools does beading upstairs. The cats sleep until after four as it was getting dark and clearly dinner time. No?

Well, yes.

I cook steak and stilton pie, roast potatoes, steamed veggie and onion gravy. All of which was perfect and delicious.

For the evening entertainment there was Norwich on the telly. Having not won in twelve games, hopes weren't high. But they played well, took the lead before halftime.

But despite peppering the Oxford goal, no more came, and were caught by a sucker punch in the 6th minute of injury time to draw 1-1.

But its not a loss, right?

Monday 25th November 2025

It is Monday morning again, and in theory, I have a lay in.

No one tells either my brain or bladder about the lay in, and I am awake at ten to five.

I lay in bed for forty minutes, then get up and get dressed and am on the move.

With Jen in Florida, there is no cards, and being a rest day there is no phys.

Just the whole day in which to relax in and enjoy.

This was also the first anniversary of me, formally, informing my employer of my intention to retire in March 2025.

I have been re-reading my blogs to find out when that was. Then there was a two week wait while our advisor crunched the numbers and came back to us with the answer: Yes, you can afford to retire.

Three hundred and twenty eight I finish the book on bad maps by the Map Men, then sit in the garden for half an hour to watch the birds on the feeder.

We had planned nothing as the weather said there was a 90% chance of rain every hour into the afternoon.

But again, no one told Mother Nature and it was sunny if very cold in the NE wind.

I went into the garden with the phone and found a second Pyramidal rosette right next to the first, and having spotted blackbirds and thrushes down the bottom of the garden, I found the cotoneaster and Virginia Creeper both stripped of berries.

We had soup and stale bread for lunch. It was filling.

Not much else to tell, really.

Fritters for dinner.

Wash up.

Have a coffee.

Watch Man Utd v Everton, which was very funny.

Everton had a player sent off for slapping his own captain. Then Everton scored, and Man Utd couldn't break the ten men down over 77 minutes plus injury time.

Oh how we laughed.

Monday, 24 November 2025

Sunday 23rd November 2025

On the 23rd November 1963, three events occurred:

1. News of the assassination of JF Kennedy reached the UK.

2. The first episode of Rd. Who aired.

3. Jools was born.

And this year that fell on a Sunday. Jen is out of the country, we met Mike last week, and Cath a person who comminates via texts, it meant just the two of us.

And what better way to start your birthday than going to the gym for some phys?

We were a little late, getting to the sports centre at half seven, but the car park was pretty empty, though this would change after eight when people started to arrive for the swimming gala.

I cycled through Grand Teton National Park, though along well defined cycle tracks always beside roads, but with a snow-capped mountain range backdrop.

I listened to a podcast, and increased the resistance by another notch.

I got it done.

Then back home for breakfast and brews, before staring to prepare lunch.

I adapted the recipe for hassleback potatoes, soaking them to remove starch before part-boiling, before cokking for nearly two hours, basting with oil every half hour.

Steak was seasoned, sprouts part-boiled and mushrooms chopped ready to cook.

I walk to the post box and snap some plants on the way, then pause to look down Station Road on the way back. The flowering heliotrope make it fee like Spring, but that is four months away, and there is talk of a bitterly cold December.

Top of Station Road But then there always is.

The part-boiling of the potatoes meant that they crisped up quicker than previously, thus bringing lunchtime forward by an hour and twenty minutes.

Two hundred and twenty seven Sprouts were fried in oil with bacon lardons and chestnuts. Mushrooms were cooked in butter and finally the steak cooked in a dry pan for two minutes per side.

A bottle of Chimay was opened, I dish up, and we sit down to eat.

Happy birthday, Jools.

After Desert Island Discs ended, we wash up, then retire to the sofa to relax and not try to sleep.

There was football. Always football, climaxing with Arsenal v Spurs at half four.

I swapped text messages with Mark in the US, an Arsenal fan, as the Gooners ran riot and won 4-1.

Darkness fell. Rain came down. We drew the curtains on the cruel world, and went to bed.

All back to Brexit

Last week the Stanford University Institute of Policy Research (SIEPR) published a report on the effects of Brexit, in the run up to the ten year anniversary of the referendum.

It makes grim reading. "This paper examines the impact of the UK's decision to leave the European Union (Brexit) in 2016. Using almost a decade of data since the referendum, we combine simulations based on macro data with estimates derived from micro data collected through our Decision Maker Panel survey. These estimates suggest that by 2025, Brexit had reduced UK GDP by 6% to 8%, with the impact accumulating gradually over time. We estimate that investment was reduced by between 12% and 18%, employment by 3% to 4% and productivity by 3% to 4%. These large negative impacts reflect a combination of elevated uncertainty, reduced demand, diverted management time, and increased misallocation of resources from a protracted Brexit process. Comparing these with contemporary forecasts – providing a rare macro example to complement the burgeoning micro- literature of social science predictions – shows that these forecasts were accurate over a 5-year horizon, but they underestimated the impact over a decade. "

The UK is overdue a long hard conversation with itself regarding the efects of Brexit.

This is difficult at the drivers behind Brexit, Farage, etc, and the news papers and their owners would rather we didn't.

They would rather see the country be impoverished and be able to blame some black fellers in a boat crossing the English Channel than admit they were wrong.

If you do get them to talk about why 60% or the population thinks Brexit failed, they will say that the "blob" has Sabotaged Brexit, or that Brexit wasn'r done properly, without explaining what doing Brexit properly might mean.

The two main political parties are commited to "making Brexit work", this despite according to the report, the Treasury is some £40 billion short because of Brexit.

Can we not reverse Brexit? Or join the SM and/or CU?

First there would have to be political agreement that this is the case. Neither Labour or the Conservatives want to reverse Brexit, we can assume that Farage's "party" doesn't either.

And without that cross-party agreement, the EU wouldn't even begin to think about letting the UK back in. There is a process that any prospective nation needs to follow: Article 49, and would mean accepting the Euro. And would be on much worse terms than when we left.

The current Government is concerned with growth above all else, and yet being outside the EU there is a an almost flatlining of GDP, a continued drop in inward investment, and an incasingly aggressive attitude by the two main parties to immigrants.

We have a long way to go, perhaps a path the UK will never go down, but one thing is sure, whatever the EU agrees with the UK, the UK or any third country will never get as good a deal as a member state would, as this would indermine the EU as a concept.

Sunday, 23 November 2025

Health update

Nothing to worry about.

I first went to the gym on 10th December last year, and if I'm honest, used every excuse not to go in the following weeks and months.

We went maybe once or sometimes twice a week, but didn't really get into it, and not increase the resistance or time I was on the bike.

At some point, Jools asked when I was going to increase like I said I would.

Good point.

I mentioned India before.

This part is not pretty, so those with weak constitutions should skip to the next paragraph.

I have had sores, blisters, but what I now know to be ulcers for some time. I didn't realise how serious they were. I put it down to thin skin from an infection, but not only did ulcers form, but it was easy to knock my legs and the skin just tear, and take weeks to heal.

In India I had multiple ulcers and cuts, and getting bandages and platers to treat them in the high humidity and heat proved difficult. When I got off the aircraft at Delhi aiport prior to the last trip to Jim Corbett, not only could I not catch my breath, mut the ulcers were weeping freely.

Yuk.

I struggled for the rest of my trip with breathing, and when I came home the symptoms made my doctor think I had heart disease. But tests showed I didn't.

On top of that my legs and feet were swollen, not pretty.

One time I went to the chiropracticor, he told me the truth and the only way forward was increasing blood supply, by exercise.

So, once the new refurbished gym reopened in July, I really got down to it. Increasing time in two then five minutes to 40, then increasing the resitance.

I would do more than forty minutes, but that is when the bum gets numb, but for now I am happy with what I am doing.

My feet would shrink after exercise, but would return to being swollen by evening. Then one day, they didn't. And as I wear shots to the gym, Jools walks behind me on the narrow path, and she said whe could bee muscles and tendons in my legs.

My hope was to lose weight, but it ddn't seem to be working. About six weeks ago I tried on all my old trousers and jeans, and found just one pair just about fitted.

But rather than give up, I just carried on.

Yesterday, I tried the trousers on again, and the first pair of jeans I tried fitted. In fact I needed a belt.

So, for the first time since 2017 I am not mearing cargo pants.

I am now at the point to try a different piece of eqipment: maybe a treadmill or cross trainer, this will really step things up.

But this also goes alongside the fact we are eating less, sometimes skipping a meal, and cutting booze out at least two days a week, and cutting almost all wine out. In fact this week for the first time I had wine for weeks.

The ulcers have just about stopped, but the skin is fragile. Their colour is near normal, and the pins and needles and vagueness I had in them is long gone. The marching and standing I did in London two weeks back would not have been possible without the work and time in the gym.

And without Jools kicking me up the backside, asking difficult questions, I might not have gone, and so might not be here now.

I think about that a lot.

Saturday 22nd November 2025

It am the weekend.

And the return of club football. If you support a team in the top two divisions.

Next season my team might not have such a break, but more of that later.

I get up just after six, have a coffee and am out to the gym just after seven to get my reps in.

I like going to the gym early at weekends: it's quiet, there's many machines empty and its not very peopley.

Which is nice.

I cycle along some European coastline for forty minutes, looked like a Greek island, with red rocky coastline and low cliffs.

Red dawn I have a podcast on too, and the time flies.

On the way home I fill up the car, buy to raisin and biscuit Yorkie bars, then home for breakfast and listen to the radio.

The cold spell is coming to an end, with wet and windy weather expected by evening. It was too chilly to do much outside.

I thought.

I did have to go into town to collect Dad's cygnet ring that is now way too small and had to be cut off three weeks back.

So I park at the back of Morrison's, walk over London Road to the shop.

He has done a fine job: polished, made larger and the diamond replaced after the original fell out.

This one is slightly larger, as the original was more like diamond dust. Probably all he could afford in 1961.

I drive home back up by the castle, along Reach Road, enjoying the view across to France and the shipping along the Channel between.

Back home in time for the footy: Scully and I are in position on the sofa.

Final Score on the telly, Radio 5 on through my phone. And so how would Norwich do with their new manager?

Not good.

2-0 down after twenty minutes, then pulled a goal back, but back to 3-1 by half time, and end up 4-1.

Not much changes could be managed in the two day's preparation, but Philippe Clement will be under no illusions as to the size of his task to turn this sinking ship round.

Two hundred and twenty six I watch the first half of Newcastle v Citeh, but there was dinner to prepare, as Sean and Ange were coming to see the kitchen and to have dinner.

I cooked teriyaki duck, roast potatoes, creamed spinach with cheese and mustard, steamed corn, and Boston beans.

The beans and spinach had already been made, so just needed warming up, the corn steamed and the duck done in the air fryer in 20 minutes.

Easy peasy lemon squeasy, thus giving time to share a beer with Sean and join in the chat.

Dinner was splendid, of course.

And 60% veg.

Cheers!

Friday 21st November 2025

My last few hours of being home alone, and again I have to get up to test, jab and feed Scully then feed the rest of the cats.

I woke at ten to five, and found no enthusiasm to get out of bed.

I go to the bathroom, then go back to bed, much to Mulder's displeasure as he comes to sit on my chest and meow. Loudly.

At quarter to six, I get up, and walk downstairs, only for the house to be rocked by a huge clap of thunder.

Two hundred and twenty five Or as it turned out, claps of thunder.

And for the next half hour, the storm crashed, banged and flashed. Huge sheets of sleep and hail fell, turning the garden white for a few minutes until it melted.

I had to put the rest of the bins out, so put on my jumper and went out, the slope of the drive was like the runway of a ski jump.

Strange light But I completed the task without falling over. I fill the birdseeds up and retire inside where I turn the thermostat up another few notches.

Rain continued most of the morning, the cats decided that they would stay in and sleep, and I would find tasks to do, or as it turned out, lollygagged the morning away through breakfast and an early lunch of jam and crisp sandwiches.

Hail I try to clean up the evidence of the raves and parties I had while Jools was away, then wait for the call from her to let me know she had left St Pancras.

Live hail The call came just after one, she would arrive at Martin Mill at 14:22, so I had one last brew and sat with Scully as I found something dreadful to watch on one of the minor TV channels.

Martin Mill is just down the hill, across the Deal road, then more down until you enter the Martin Mill hamlet/village. The station is straight on, so I drive into the car park to wait.

Arrival at Martin Mill Jools was the only person who got off, and comes into view laden with beads and yarn fresh from the craft show. She climbed in and we drive back home.

We have a brew and some fancy Swiss chocolates. I had already peeled and diced the potatoes for chorizo hash, so after peeling the vegetables and chorizo, it would take about half an hour to cook and combine.

We ate at five, I used the new pan bought last weekend, and it did a fine job, though would be a bugger to clean as I didn't oil the sides.

Silly boy.

We eat, we drink.

It was the weekend.

I was very tired, as was Jools, so she headed to bed at half eight. I tried to watch the Preston v Blackburn game, but chilled to the bone, I gave up at half time and also went to bed.

Saturday, 22 November 2025

Boris fiddled

Leaked documents show that Boris Johnson took seven days off during February 2020, just as the seriousness of the outbreak in Italy became clear.

I know, I wrote about it.

The Guardian articles says:

"The files suggest that Johnson did not conduct any official government business on 15, 16, 17 and 21 February. Instead, he appears to have spent time walking his jack russell dog, Dilyn, in Chevening’s 1,416 hectare (3,500 acre) grounds, riding a motorbike given to him by his now wife, Carrie, and hosting friends and family for lunches, dinners and overnight stays.

Entries in the logs for 14 to 24 February make no reference to Johnson working on the Covid response, although he said he had discussed the virus on scheduled calls with other world leaders."

"The files indicate that Johnson carried out just two full days of work during his Chevening break, on 19 and 20 February. He held a 20 minute call with US president Donald Trump on 20 February, during which he said the virus and its origins were discussed. The logs say this was followed by a three-hour dinner with Henry Newman, Simone Finn and Josh Grimstone, former government officials understood to be close friends of his wife.

On 18 February, Johnson worked for just 40 minutes, joining a call with Chinese president Xi Jinping, the documents suggest. Johnson told the inquiry that one purpose of the call was to “compare notes” on Covid."

Johnson repsponded in his Daily Mail column that negative comments in the inquiry of a "lost month" and a "toxic atmosphere" in his Government were untrue.

Rumours were at the time he took the two weeks off to complete a biography of William Shakespeare that he had signed a deal to produce, and had he failed to produce a draft, he would have been in trouble over the advance paid.

It is worth noting that the book has not been published nearly six years later.

Worse for Johnson is that he stated on oath earlier in the inquiry of work regarding COVID he did during this break. Official documents and evidence do not support this.

I mean who would have thought that the serial liar, Alexander oris De iffel Johnson would lie on oath?

And again, his Party, friends and colleagues knew the sort of person he was, and yet elected him leader of their Party and in time became PM. They were not to know a global pandemic was round the corner, but if you elect a clown, the Government is turned into a circus.

Friday, 21 November 2025

Thursday 20th November 2025

I am home alone until Friday afternoon, and so far, I have not burned the house down.

But what it does me, I am on Scully duty first thing, before feeding the other cats and making coffee.

So, up at half five, dressed and downstairs to test Scully, inject her with insulin, feed her, before feeding the other three hungry cats.

I make a coffee and check on the world, before I am off to the gym at dawn.

I go at dawn as the gym is fairly empty, and means there is no excuse as there would be had I left it to later.

It was the second frost of the week, harsher than Tuesday, and me in my shorts feel it especially sharp as I scamper across the car park to the entrance.

Two hundred and twenty four I check in and go upstairs, then to my bike of choice, select The Sound of Football podcast to listen to, and then to ride round Lisbon for forty minutes.

Time passes and I am done, so downstairs, double-checking I have my phone, wallet and earphones with me, as in the last month I have left at least one of them behind.

The other reason for being so early is that the roads are not jammed on the way back, about ten past seven. Half an hour later and the A2 would be jammed to Whitfield.

Or would have been.

But there are roadworks on Castle Hill beside the Duke of Yorks school, and the lights meant the queue backed up, so I drove along the Sandwich Road before turning off at Waldershare and heading out cross-country to West and then East Langdon and onto the Deal Road and home.

It was a fine and sunny day. But bitterly cold.

I filled the feeders, then went inside for breakfast before thinking about cutting the old Goldenrod stalks beside the drive.

I think about it until its close to lunch, so have the other two rolls and a brew, before tightening my belt and pulling up my trousers and going outside with the secateurs.

Half an hour later and the job done, all clippings in the brown bin, and the bin left at the top of the drive for collection in the morning.

But out of the shade of the house, the wind cut though me like knife through butter, so went inside to sit beside Scully and binge watch Gone Fishing all afternoon.

Darkness fell early, and the wind continued to blow.

I warmed up some ragu, cooked the rest of the pasta, so after testing, jabbing and feeding Scully at half five, I ate like an Italian King. Or peasant.

Fuller's 2025 Vintage Ale. And drank a bottle of Fuller's Vintage Ale, which was superb.

Jools called in the evening, she's had a fine time without me, but will be home Friday afternoon.

I watch Peterborough beat table-topping Stockport before heading to bed after a wee glass of whiskey.

That's grand.

Wednesday 19th November 2025

So, the churchcrawling group is going well. We have done four visits, and most of the group are enthused and amazed at the history and wonders on their doorsteps.

So, the 5th visit is next week, but one of the group will be away visiting her family, and for the final visit of the year: so would I take her to the two churches before she left?

I would.

And Wednesday was the day.

I backed out of bridge, so the morning was clear. Jools just had to get to the station before quarter to ten after her Qigong class.

But, she said, the station was just a five minute walk away from the Riverside Centre, so didn't need a lift.

Just dropping into town before eight.

Which I did.

And already the wind was blowing and the rain falling. But Mother Nature had barely got started.

Back home via Tesco where I bought some carrots, celery, bread amongst other things, then back home by half eight for breakfast before going to Walmer to pick Carol up.

By then the sun had given up on the day, thick clouds hung just above the tree tops, wind blew, and sheets of rain fell.

You can never book the weather when arranging meetings or trips, so today proved again.

She climbed in, and I drove through Deal, out over the railway line to Worth before doubling back along the Sandwich Road to Whitfiled, then along to Waldershare.

All Saints is a small estate church, a 17th century Chancel with 18th century side chapes and a 19th century Nave.

Despite being just a mile from Jen's, its situated down a lane, and only the brown "historical church" sign pointing down it to show there is anything worth seeing.

As it is, as you pass the old stable block, it feels like you're trespassing, but the lych gate is in front with a small muddy are for parking in front.

The triple gable end appears through the bushes, so we walk up, past the sad grave of a 14 year old miner who died in Tillmanstone at the beginning of the 20th century, and to the porch where the door swung open.

Two hundred and twenty three The church is cold and austere, but to the east the Chancel is tiled richly and glistened once I found the light switch.

But then there are the chapels.

To the north, a 17th century tomb with a couple carved in marble holding hands for eternity above.

"It contains the tomb of Susan Bertie. The same tomb also commemorates Montague, Earl of Lindsey, who was loyal to Charles I, and is noted as 'having attended his sacred Majestic to his grave and giving him a Christian burial at Windsor after his barbarous and horrid murder"

To the north, a memorial so large that the chapel must have been built around it.

Four life sized statues of young ladies, each in mourning, and above two more layers each with winged cherubs. There's another layer above that, with an urn, but that is so close to the ceiling.

"The north chapel was built in 1712 to accommodate the monument to Sir Henry Furness who built the present mansion house in the park. This monument only just fits into its chapel and rises in stages like a wedding cake, with four life-sized broken-hearted ladies at the base for starters. As a conversation piece it is unrivalled in a country church."

They make a remarkable pair.

Back outside, the rain had stopped so we could explore the churchyard a bit. I pointed the family vault of the former owners of Waldershare Park, but with more clouds gathering, we made our back to the car.

Two villages along the Sandwich Road is Eastry, the road now bypasses it, just as well as its narrow streets and five way junction are not 21st century friendly. Not really 20th century friendly either.

We drive into the village, up Church Lane and find a place to park, but the rain had begun again.

As we walk to the west door under the tower, I point out some things of interest, but the rain made us dash for cover.

Inside the tower, in through the inner door and down some steps into the Nave, and in front over the rebuilt Chancel Arch is the famous wall painting: 35 round paintings in medallions, the lily representing the Virgin Mother.

St Mary the Virgin, Eastry, Kent There is a perpetual calendar on one of the south columns of the Nave, and much more beside.

I speak with a warden and agree on a visit with the larger group in three weeks time.

Outside the rain is hammering down, and day had been turned to twilight.

For safety, I took the Sandwich road back to Dover, then along the Deal Road, but some new roadworks had been put up in the 90 minutes since I drove up, clearing blocked drains, so that we were held up for twenty minutes.

It was now almost dark, at midday, amazing really.

We get through the roadworks and into Walmer, so I drop her off at her front door, then to avoid the roadworks, I go back out through Deal to nearly Sandwich before doubling back to Dover again.

The rain had eased, and traffic was going slow, but I thought it now safe to drive at seventy, so made good time as it was half past lunchtime.

I reversed the car down the drive, opened the back door, then had to test Scully, give her some more food before thinking of my own needs.

I butter two seeded rolls and spread Ardennes Pate on them, then spread the contents of a packet of cheese and onion crisps to make a lunch fit for a Bishop.

Brass Castle's Fifty Shades of Ginger. Ginger Porter. I have a huge brew too, then go to listen to a podcast while I eat.

Too cold and wet to go out, so I sit on the sofa and watch two episodes of Gone Fishing with Scully, while in the kitchen a huge pot of ragu I made bubbles away for four hours and would be my dinner.

Or two spoonful's of it would.

I cook some pasta, ladle the ragu on it, mix well, add pepper and grated Pecorino, open a beer and tuck in.

Delicious.

And with no football to watch, I listen to podcasts before heading to bed at half nine, as I had to be up early in the morning.

Thursday, 20 November 2025

COVID inquiry latest

The statutory inquiry has been quietly going through evidence,but today there were some exposive revalations:

That the Matt Hancock knew that Sunak's "eat out to help out" scheme was causing spikes in infection rates in "intervention areas", but news of this was kept secret so not to spoil the economic benefit.

Here's what I wrotejust two days before that text message exchange:

"We live on the edge of a small village, we don't go to pubs much, only three times since the lockdown started. We haven't eaten out, except for a sausage butty that one time. We go to Tesco once a week to do our shopping, and apart from going to Jen's every now and again, we mix with no one.

And I suppose that's how I thought the rest of the country was.

How wrong I was.

For the past three days I have been staying in Southampton. Southampton is a city, not huge, but a typical, provincial English city. And it was like Mardi Gras in Nawlins.

On Tuesday night we ventured to a small Italian place, so saw little other than those on the main street, seemed quite sensible, apart from the drunks who were shouting and singing until dawn.

Wednesday, was very different.

As I wrote in my blogs, the Government is subsidising eating out to a max of £10 a head, to encourage folks to get out and support businesses. So far, so good.

For two hours I tried to book something online and on the phone: nothing free.

So we went out walking, to the West Quay shopping centre, where I had seen many large eateries and chains; there must be some tables free there?

No.

Everywhere was packed, needing an hour's wait, if they would let you. Most were booked all night.

Some had gaps between tables, many seemed not to.

Most shocking was Wetherspoons. It was rammed. People lining up to get in, no social distancing, people singing, shouting, like there wasn't a pandemic on.

If this is normal in cities and towns up and down the country, and with enhanced lockdowns in many places, and another threatened in Birmingham, there is little hope of keeping the virus under control.

We had no choice but to travel on the ferry to the Island. Going over there was hardly anyone on board, but coming back, it was full. People from different groups were sitting at same tables and benches. Children were running around, banging into strangers, like their parents didn't care.

I am home now, but will isolate at least for a week here, and not go to Jen's for two weeks, just in case.

The week was a real eye-opener, but not in a good way. Sadly.

Stay safe, people"

In addition, had the first lockdown been introduced a week earlier, like in Ireland, 23,000 lives could have been avoided.

And that had social distancing introduced earlier, the need for a lockdown at all could have been avoided.

It was obvious at the time. I wrote much of this in posts in this blog, and even challenged Johnson's refusal to hold a Lessons Learned exercise in the summer of 2020 so to ensure mistakes would not be repeated.

But I'm just a managment systems auditor, what do I know about lessons learned.

Wednesday, 19 November 2025

Tuesday 18th November 2025

Some teams are doomed to be always the bridesmaid and not the bride.

A series of epic failures dot their history, so near and yet so far from the big summer party of the World Cup.

Tuesday evening, Scotland were to play Denmark with a winner takes all prize of automatic qualification for next year's World Cup in the Americas and the loser would go into the play-offs.

A draw would be good enough for Denmark to top the group, but Scotland had to win.

In the winter of 2001 I was in Scotland with the RAF, and Scotland were in the play-offs, this time against the Netherlands. And won the first home leg 1-0.

We joined the locals at the Beach Bar in Elgin on the Tuesday night to watch the second leg.

Three days of hope was dashed in 90 minutes, with the Dutch running out 6-0 winners. By the time the forth went in, we were the only ones left in the bar.

Laughing and drinking.

Twenty four years had passed since then, and still no qualification for Scotland.

But, to Tuesday: and starting with a very early morning, up at half five for coffee and out to the gym at five past six, getting there in ten minutes for another workout. This time cycling in Utah in the spring, so there was some green, and listening to A Word in Your Ear as I pedalled.

Three hundred and twenty two Back home for seven fifteen, so Jools could use the car for her keep fit. Only she wasn't going, so the early start was for nothing.

But it was a glorious day. And a fine day for a haircut.

I am usually fine for three or four weeks, then one morning its though I wake up with a fur hat on.

Time for a trim.

So into town to the new place. There no queue. Heck, there's hardly anyone else and it was nearly ten in the morning.

I had a haircut, shave, eyebrows, ears waxed and a massage. Took nearly an hour and cost just twenty five quid.

Outside the cold icy wind found my shaved face now that the whiskers were gone.

Brrr.

Back home for breakfast and a brew, then a shower and a change of clothes.

I felt good.

Not quite a million dollars, but enough money to buy a compact car, perhaps.

Until the Retinal migraine hit.

I hadn't slept well, but even then, the suddenness and surprise was shocking.

And it was a bad one, I sat with my eyes closed for twenty minutes, then another two hours to recover.

Jools made a brew and we had some fancy chocolates, and I felt better.

By then it was dark, and time to cook.

So I boiled potatoes, then dipped them in oil and roasted them for eighty minutes until crisp and golden. Pies were cooked, and vegetables steamed.

Pencester Gardens in autumn We ate at four, before the cats for a change, and was very filling and warming on a now winter's evening.

And then the football.

The magic of football, or many sports, is the sharing or emotions, both good and bad with ten, a hundred, a thousand or hundred thousand others. And that moment of extasy when it all comes good in the end.

But, if you're a Norwich or Scotland fan, that rarely happens. Which means when it does, its all the more sweeter.

As on Saturday, Scotland were both wonderful and dreadful. Scott McTominay scored an overhead bicycle kick in the 3rd minute to take the lead.

An amazing goal, but probably not the best goal of the night.

Denmark drew level with a hash penalty. Then Scotland took the lead with a tap in from a corner with just seven minutes to go.

The game had turned a few minutes earlier when a Dane was sent off for a second yellow card, because up to then it was all Denmark and Scotland were defending so deep.

Four minutes later, Scotland failed to clear their lines and so it was 2-2.

So far, so Denmark.

The Danes, down to ten men, were timewasting, faking injuries, cramp, whatever. Which would come to damn them.

Scotland were never going to score. And then they did.

Denmark cleared a cross, and it fell to Kieran Tierney, who hit it on the volley and it curled into the far corner.

Cue mad scenes.

Ninety two minutes gone, four to go, but the goal and celebrations meant it was closer to ten.

Denmark piled forward, crossing, shooting, but not quite good enough. The keeper went up for a corner.

No luck.

One last push and the attack broke down, Scotland broke with the ball at the feed of substitute midfielder and Norwich City captain, who looked up, saw the keeper off his line, and lobbed him.

From inside his own half.

I saw David Beckham do that at Palace thirty years ago, but Kenny McLean, the Mayor of Norwich?

The ball cleared Kasper Schmeichel as he ran and jumped to try to stop the shot, but the ball curved into the corner, making it 4-2.

It was the last kick of the game, players ran onto the pitch to jump on Kenny, fans inside the stadium and around Scotland went wild.

Twenty eight years waiting was worth it for that moment.

It even brought a tear to my eyes.

Scotland are going to The Show next summer.