Farage: (n): a large stool. As in, I needed to flush the toilet twice to get rid of that Farage.
Yesterday, Nigel Farage resigned as MP for Clacton.
His record of attending Parliament and voting is very poor indeed, I think at one point he had missed 76 consecutive votes in the House. And he has failed to hold any surgeries in Clacton for his constituents.
Farage is facing multiple investigations from Parliament and banks regarding gifts of millions of pounds from various people outside the UK.
Gifts he received in the year before he became an MP had to be declared. He failed to declare them.
He received £5 million from a crypto-billionaire, for reasons over time have changed.
Not only has he resigned, but intends to stand in the byelection that would trigger, and an anti-establishment ticket. Only all the other main parties have said they will not stand in the byelection, and so far the only other candidate it would seem is Count Binface.
It would seem that the ploy was to avoid scrutiny for the gifts received, but the inquiry would only be paused until he was an MP again.
So all rather pointless.
And on top of that, his electorate don't seem too happy with his performance as their MP.
Stange that.
Wednesday, 8 July 2026
Tuesday 6th July 2026
Tuesday.
Did I mention it was hot?
Well, it is hot.
And humid, and the breeze we normally enjoy here on the downs near the sea, fell to almost nothing.
It was going to be a long hot day.
And due to the humid night and my stupid brain, I was awake at half three, and got up at four to sit outside in the cool early morning light to enjoy the view from the top patio.
At half four I fed the cats as well as testing Scully, then put the kettle on so that when Jools got up she could have a tea.
So by ten past six, I was dressed, had drunk my coffee and was ready for the gym, only there was no point in leaving until ten to six.
As usual, the pool was crazy busy, but we gym rats headed up the stairs, and I put on the latest A Word in Your Ear pod, and began to peddle.
It was hot and sweaty, but I did 38 minutes, which is close enough I decided, so bin the session, then go to cool down outside. But the sun was already very warm and strong.
Back home at seven so that Jools could have the car for most of the day, leaving me home to get my act together.
Jools made me a brew, which I drank outside on the patio again, then once she had left I had a shave and shower, then dressed so I could wear another new t shirt: a B52s tour shirt from the gig we went to last month.
Did I mention it was hot?
Against my better judgement, I went for a walk. Taking my camera, I walked to the end of the road and went up the down to the first track before turning along the track between the fields, past the war memorial.
There were Gatekeepers galore, but all bar one wouldn't settle, and the one that did had its wings closed, but I got the shot anyway.
The track was so overgrown that I could hardly get along, and slipped into the ruts which were hidden from view.
I made it to the crossroads of the path leading down from Windy ridge. I should have turned left to go up the hill, but turned right towards Collingwood and home.
It was just too darned hot.
Along the end of the road I snapped the new electric fence and the one of the three new five bar gates, the walk to home where I treated myself to a glass of squash, and sit down in the cool shade of the living room.
There was a long day in Le Tour, with Le Grande Depart at ten past eleven, so I was on the sofa in plenty of time to enjoy stage 5.
It was 42 degrees in southern France, and keeping cool standing still would have been hard enough, but the peloton did it whilst cycling at nearly 50km/h for several hours. Though needed lots of cold water from their support vehicles and blocks of ice to put down their shirts.
Jools cooked dinner: breaded chicken with salad, of which just the chicken needed cooking. This was because straight after the Tour, there was football: Argentina v Egypt.
And Egypt game Argentina a heck of a game, and had a goal wrongly chalked off for a foul 17 seconds before scoring, while Argentina wone it at the death when a similar foul was not punished and the goal stood.
Must have Messi in the quarter finals, obvs.
Did I mention it was hot?
Well, it is hot.
And humid, and the breeze we normally enjoy here on the downs near the sea, fell to almost nothing.
It was going to be a long hot day.
And due to the humid night and my stupid brain, I was awake at half three, and got up at four to sit outside in the cool early morning light to enjoy the view from the top patio.
At half four I fed the cats as well as testing Scully, then put the kettle on so that when Jools got up she could have a tea.So by ten past six, I was dressed, had drunk my coffee and was ready for the gym, only there was no point in leaving until ten to six.
As usual, the pool was crazy busy, but we gym rats headed up the stairs, and I put on the latest A Word in Your Ear pod, and began to peddle.
It was hot and sweaty, but I did 38 minutes, which is close enough I decided, so bin the session, then go to cool down outside. But the sun was already very warm and strong.
Back home at seven so that Jools could have the car for most of the day, leaving me home to get my act together.
Jools made me a brew, which I drank outside on the patio again, then once she had left I had a shave and shower, then dressed so I could wear another new t shirt: a B52s tour shirt from the gig we went to last month.Did I mention it was hot?
Against my better judgement, I went for a walk. Taking my camera, I walked to the end of the road and went up the down to the first track before turning along the track between the fields, past the war memorial.
There were Gatekeepers galore, but all bar one wouldn't settle, and the one that did had its wings closed, but I got the shot anyway.The track was so overgrown that I could hardly get along, and slipped into the ruts which were hidden from view.
I made it to the crossroads of the path leading down from Windy ridge. I should have turned left to go up the hill, but turned right towards Collingwood and home.
It was just too darned hot.Along the end of the road I snapped the new electric fence and the one of the three new five bar gates, the walk to home where I treated myself to a glass of squash, and sit down in the cool shade of the living room.
There was a long day in Le Tour, with Le Grande Depart at ten past eleven, so I was on the sofa in plenty of time to enjoy stage 5.
It was 42 degrees in southern France, and keeping cool standing still would have been hard enough, but the peloton did it whilst cycling at nearly 50km/h for several hours. Though needed lots of cold water from their support vehicles and blocks of ice to put down their shirts.
Jools cooked dinner: breaded chicken with salad, of which just the chicken needed cooking. This was because straight after the Tour, there was football: Argentina v Egypt.And Egypt game Argentina a heck of a game, and had a goal wrongly chalked off for a foul 17 seconds before scoring, while Argentina wone it at the death when a similar foul was not punished and the goal stood.
Must have Messi in the quarter finals, obvs.
Revolver (1966)
As I said before, the Beatles documentary, Anthology, skipped over both Rubber Soul and this to move onto Sgt Pepper, odd for two albums that bridge, if you like, their early period, with their latter more experimental one.
Rubber Soul was, by my ears, their best album thus far, and so I venture onto Revolver expecting it to shoot for the stars.
The record has artwork by close friend, Klaus Voormann, known since their time in Hamburg. It contains some of their best known songs, and some of their most inventive.
Let's dive in:
Side 1.
1. "Taxman"
2. "Eleanor Rigby"
3. "I'm Only Sleeping"
4. "Love You To"
5. "Here, There and Everywhere"
6. "Yellow Submarine"
7. "She Said She Said"
Side 2.
1. "Good Day Sunshine"
2. "And Your Bird Can Sing"
3. "For No One"
4. "Doctor Robert"
5. "I Want to Tell You"
6. "Got to Get You into My Life"
7. "Tomorrow Never Knows"
All tracks writtem by Lennon/McCartney except "I Want to Tell Yoy" and "Love to You", which were by Harrsion.
"Taxman" was written after the members of the band were subjected to something like 97% supertax on their earnings. One for you and nineteen for me, references this. It has one of the most iconic guitar riffs, stolen by The Jam decades later on "Start". The song mentions Mr Wilson and Mr Heath, two UK Prime Ministers responsible for the tax on their earnings. It is an incredible piece of work, and with a message too. They'd have to go some to top that, mind.
"Eleanor Rigby" is next, and as a pop song, is remarkable. Back only by a string quarter, Paul mulls over lonliness. It is a truly remarkable song, and one of their very best. Nothing much like it before.
"I'm Only Sleeping" is the longest track on the labum, clocking in at 3:03, and features some backward tape loops which must have sounded astonishing when heard by fans for the first time. John sings, and the song has a false ending, starts again with the backward loops stronger. Nothing like this before either, but a very different kind of song. Three very different tunes to open the album, each one groundbreaking.
Sitar. Sitar on Sitar. Rock beat. Vocals. Double speed to outro. The George penned and playd "Love You To" carries on further the Eastern influence heard on Rubber Soul. A superb vison realised, and only The Beatles at the time could have come up with it. Four very different tracks then open the album!
Innovation takes a breather on "Here, There and Everywhere", with Paul on vocals, with a simple beat keeping time, and harmonised vocals at the end. It's a piece of pop perfection.
I have mixed feelings about "Yellow Submarine". It featured almost weekly on Junior Choice, and so I associate it as a children's song. It features Ringo on vocals, and had a bass drum keeping time, and all over it are various song effects, which make it a riot. On the first hearing. As a piece of work, it is remarkable, though not to everyone's taste. It was recorded intially as a children's song, so in that it succeeded.
"She Said She Said" closes side 1, and is pretty much the 60s wrapped up in a song. But in a good way. Backwards loops, I think sitar too, it features John on vocals and would be the outstanding track on the side, were it not for the six that preceeded it.
Side 2 kicks off with "Good Day Sunshine" which features George Martin on honky tonk piano, and is another well-known song from their canon, and yet delights on this rehearing. A light touch to start and with superb harmies too, last little of two minutes and is gone.
Even shorter by six whole seconds is "And Your Bird Can Sing" with John on lead vocals. It shimmers along and is glorious in that. Words of praise no longer have meaning, this is just the very best work that the very best band ever did. Dazzles with brilliance.
There's a wonderful French Horn playing counterpoint to Pau's vocals on "For No One", while the rest of the band add percussion and strumming. So simple, and yet so effective. Paul's vocal is so warm and pleasing. That he suffered so much from "fans" after the band broke up and he formed Wings with Linda.
"Dr. Robert" is the 11th track, and acts as a bridge, at least to my ears, of their previous pop phase, and this their latter psychedelic one. Again, way ahead of its time, and yet is "just" another track on Revolver. Amazing.
"I Want to Tell You" you expect to be sitar laden, as it is penned and sung by George, but has a guitar instead, through it shimmers with eastern magic. Layered backing vocals, isn't the worse track on the record, though there are no bad tracks on Reveolver to be honest.
Two bangers close out the record: first up is "Got to Get You into My Life", which has 60s op written all over it, but invented here. Then morphs into a shouted vocal with brass backing and lots of dirty guitars. Hearing it again in contex with the previous twelve tracks show how strong and effortless they make it all seem.
Throw everything that's gone before into a great big pop pot, stir, add some drugs and stunning studio techniques and bingo, the most breathtaking track thus far in their body of work. Much copied, but never bettered, "Tomorrow Never Knows" was their absolute peak. Except for tracks that were better like Penny Lane et al.
I find it hard to believe there is a better album than this, andf yet to come is Sgt. Pepper. We shall see. We leave The Beatles for a couple of months, having retired from playing live, sitting on top of the world they created.
Rubber Soul was, by my ears, their best album thus far, and so I venture onto Revolver expecting it to shoot for the stars.
The record has artwork by close friend, Klaus Voormann, known since their time in Hamburg. It contains some of their best known songs, and some of their most inventive.
Let's dive in:
Side 1.
1. "Taxman"
2. "Eleanor Rigby"
3. "I'm Only Sleeping"
4. "Love You To"
5. "Here, There and Everywhere"
6. "Yellow Submarine"
7. "She Said She Said"
Side 2.
1. "Good Day Sunshine"
2. "And Your Bird Can Sing"
3. "For No One"
4. "Doctor Robert"
5. "I Want to Tell You"
6. "Got to Get You into My Life"
7. "Tomorrow Never Knows"
All tracks writtem by Lennon/McCartney except "I Want to Tell Yoy" and "Love to You", which were by Harrsion.
"Taxman" was written after the members of the band were subjected to something like 97% supertax on their earnings. One for you and nineteen for me, references this. It has one of the most iconic guitar riffs, stolen by The Jam decades later on "Start". The song mentions Mr Wilson and Mr Heath, two UK Prime Ministers responsible for the tax on their earnings. It is an incredible piece of work, and with a message too. They'd have to go some to top that, mind.
"Eleanor Rigby" is next, and as a pop song, is remarkable. Back only by a string quarter, Paul mulls over lonliness. It is a truly remarkable song, and one of their very best. Nothing much like it before.
"I'm Only Sleeping" is the longest track on the labum, clocking in at 3:03, and features some backward tape loops which must have sounded astonishing when heard by fans for the first time. John sings, and the song has a false ending, starts again with the backward loops stronger. Nothing like this before either, but a very different kind of song. Three very different tunes to open the album, each one groundbreaking.
Sitar. Sitar on Sitar. Rock beat. Vocals. Double speed to outro. The George penned and playd "Love You To" carries on further the Eastern influence heard on Rubber Soul. A superb vison realised, and only The Beatles at the time could have come up with it. Four very different tracks then open the album!
Innovation takes a breather on "Here, There and Everywhere", with Paul on vocals, with a simple beat keeping time, and harmonised vocals at the end. It's a piece of pop perfection.
I have mixed feelings about "Yellow Submarine". It featured almost weekly on Junior Choice, and so I associate it as a children's song. It features Ringo on vocals, and had a bass drum keeping time, and all over it are various song effects, which make it a riot. On the first hearing. As a piece of work, it is remarkable, though not to everyone's taste. It was recorded intially as a children's song, so in that it succeeded.
"She Said She Said" closes side 1, and is pretty much the 60s wrapped up in a song. But in a good way. Backwards loops, I think sitar too, it features John on vocals and would be the outstanding track on the side, were it not for the six that preceeded it.
Side 2 kicks off with "Good Day Sunshine" which features George Martin on honky tonk piano, and is another well-known song from their canon, and yet delights on this rehearing. A light touch to start and with superb harmies too, last little of two minutes and is gone.
Even shorter by six whole seconds is "And Your Bird Can Sing" with John on lead vocals. It shimmers along and is glorious in that. Words of praise no longer have meaning, this is just the very best work that the very best band ever did. Dazzles with brilliance.
There's a wonderful French Horn playing counterpoint to Pau's vocals on "For No One", while the rest of the band add percussion and strumming. So simple, and yet so effective. Paul's vocal is so warm and pleasing. That he suffered so much from "fans" after the band broke up and he formed Wings with Linda.
"Dr. Robert" is the 11th track, and acts as a bridge, at least to my ears, of their previous pop phase, and this their latter psychedelic one. Again, way ahead of its time, and yet is "just" another track on Revolver. Amazing.
"I Want to Tell You" you expect to be sitar laden, as it is penned and sung by George, but has a guitar instead, through it shimmers with eastern magic. Layered backing vocals, isn't the worse track on the record, though there are no bad tracks on Reveolver to be honest.
Two bangers close out the record: first up is "Got to Get You into My Life", which has 60s op written all over it, but invented here. Then morphs into a shouted vocal with brass backing and lots of dirty guitars. Hearing it again in contex with the previous twelve tracks show how strong and effortless they make it all seem.
Throw everything that's gone before into a great big pop pot, stir, add some drugs and stunning studio techniques and bingo, the most breathtaking track thus far in their body of work. Much copied, but never bettered, "Tomorrow Never Knows" was their absolute peak. Except for tracks that were better like Penny Lane et al.
I find it hard to believe there is a better album than this, andf yet to come is Sgt. Pepper. We shall see. We leave The Beatles for a couple of months, having retired from playing live, sitting on top of the world they created.
Tuesday, 7 July 2026
Monday 6th July 2026
Another heatwave is heading our way, apparently.
At night, already, it is warm and humid, and had to get to sleep.
Come Monday morning, I was up and dressed quick, so to check the moth trap I had left out overnight, and was rewarded with the first hawk-moth species of the year, An Elephant hawk-moth, as well as some other photogenic ones, including a Swallow-tailed moth, which was rather handsome.
They all got snapped.
Jools had a busy day planned, starting with an early morning walk, at a time when it was cool, but I was barely capable of stringing two words together. So she went alone.
I'll go later, I lied.
Jools did a tip run, went to Tesco, then took a friend to Canterbury to sort her computer problems out.
So I was home alone for about six hours.
So, I went for a walk.
My back wasn't feeling too good, but good enough to walk over the fields to Fleet House and the top of Norway Grove.
I was hunting butterflies and wild flowers, but the herbicide the famer has used now the lucerne field has wheat means that the wild flowers of the last two years are now gone.
No flowers means no butterflies.
The lucerne, however, has taken over the path, making it quite hard to find the path between the bushes.
I walked to the small grassed area at Fleet house, which is the graveyard of farm equipment, as between the rusting skeletons, wild flowers grow, and butterflies are in abundance.
The farmer has paddocked the field into which he hoped to have a five pitch caravan park, there's an electric fence now behind the hedge, and herbicide has been sprayed to limit natural plant growth. Two sad looking horses and a single sheep munch on the lucerne that's left.
I snap a few, and the flowers before walking back over the fields, as it was now mid-morning and getting very warm indeed.
Also, at ten past eleven, the Tour was to start, so back in time for that and sit down on the sofa with Poppy on the footstool, sleeping the hot day away.
Which was very wise.
For the first proper road stage, it turned into a mad GC race, with the leading breakaway featuring all the favourites, and on the final 500m, Tadej Pogačar broke from the pack to win the stage and take the yellow jersey from Jonas Vingegaard after they both were tied on identical times.
The evening entertainment was the Spain v Portugal last 16 game, and the question was, would Portugal be as bad as feared with Ronaldo playing?
The answer was "yes". A poor game won by Spain in injury time, but Ronaldo hardly touched the ball, and yet played the entire game.
Still, got to laugh.
At night, already, it is warm and humid, and had to get to sleep.
Come Monday morning, I was up and dressed quick, so to check the moth trap I had left out overnight, and was rewarded with the first hawk-moth species of the year, An Elephant hawk-moth, as well as some other photogenic ones, including a Swallow-tailed moth, which was rather handsome.
They all got snapped.Jools had a busy day planned, starting with an early morning walk, at a time when it was cool, but I was barely capable of stringing two words together. So she went alone.
I'll go later, I lied.Jools did a tip run, went to Tesco, then took a friend to Canterbury to sort her computer problems out.
So I was home alone for about six hours.So, I went for a walk.
My back wasn't feeling too good, but good enough to walk over the fields to Fleet House and the top of Norway Grove.
I was hunting butterflies and wild flowers, but the herbicide the famer has used now the lucerne field has wheat means that the wild flowers of the last two years are now gone.
No flowers means no butterflies.The lucerne, however, has taken over the path, making it quite hard to find the path between the bushes.
I walked to the small grassed area at Fleet house, which is the graveyard of farm equipment, as between the rusting skeletons, wild flowers grow, and butterflies are in abundance.
The farmer has paddocked the field into which he hoped to have a five pitch caravan park, there's an electric fence now behind the hedge, and herbicide has been sprayed to limit natural plant growth. Two sad looking horses and a single sheep munch on the lucerne that's left.
I snap a few, and the flowers before walking back over the fields, as it was now mid-morning and getting very warm indeed.Also, at ten past eleven, the Tour was to start, so back in time for that and sit down on the sofa with Poppy on the footstool, sleeping the hot day away.
Which was very wise.
For the first proper road stage, it turned into a mad GC race, with the leading breakaway featuring all the favourites, and on the final 500m, Tadej Pogačar broke from the pack to win the stage and take the yellow jersey from Jonas Vingegaard after they both were tied on identical times.
The evening entertainment was the Spain v Portugal last 16 game, and the question was, would Portugal be as bad as feared with Ronaldo playing?
The answer was "yes". A poor game won by Spain in injury time, but Ronaldo hardly touched the ball, and yet played the entire game.
Still, got to laugh.
Sunday 5th July 2026
It is the seventh day of the week, and on that day Jelltex shall rest.
Other than go to the gym to do another session, the 4th this week, and so back to what is considered normal in Chez Jelltex.
There are several games in the World Cup each day, but most are late evening or in the middle of the night. On this day, England were due to play Mexico in the Azteca, where, almost forty years ago, Maradona punched a cross into the goal. Then ran through the whole English defence for his second.
Kick off was due to be 01:00 Monday morning, and I thought long and hard, but decided to go to bed after the early game, Norway v Brasil.
But first, after coffee, there was phys.
I had forty minutes to listen to the PU pod, and did 37 minutes, and when Radio Radio by Elvis Costello came on, I knew I had done enough.
Back home via the Co-Op in Whitfield for some cottage cheese for Jools' breakfast.
And still home for ten past eight, with a whole day to fill.
Thankfully there is Le Tour, which was due to start just after midday, so that was sorted.
Once back home, I saw that there was a wee beastie where I was to leave my towel to dry: a Cricket, so I snapped it with both the phone and big camera, now that the lens is working fine again.
And then a shower, and a fresh change of clothes, all to be ready for the pre-show of Le Tour, and then four hours of GC action in Stage 2 of the Tour in Spain.
I struggle to stay awake, as cyclists battle conditions and geography to see who wins. It all came down to three circuits of the 1992 Olympic Park, and Jonas is triumphant once again.
I was going to watch all of Norway v Brasil, but was 0-0 at half time, half nine, and I thought I would go to bed as although it was tense, not heavy with goalmouth action.
This would also mean missing England play Mexico which was due to kick off at one, but was delayed, as predicted, by over an hour.
Other than go to the gym to do another session, the 4th this week, and so back to what is considered normal in Chez Jelltex.
There are several games in the World Cup each day, but most are late evening or in the middle of the night. On this day, England were due to play Mexico in the Azteca, where, almost forty years ago, Maradona punched a cross into the goal. Then ran through the whole English defence for his second.
Kick off was due to be 01:00 Monday morning, and I thought long and hard, but decided to go to bed after the early game, Norway v Brasil.But first, after coffee, there was phys.
I had forty minutes to listen to the PU pod, and did 37 minutes, and when Radio Radio by Elvis Costello came on, I knew I had done enough.
Back home via the Co-Op in Whitfield for some cottage cheese for Jools' breakfast.
And still home for ten past eight, with a whole day to fill.
Thankfully there is Le Tour, which was due to start just after midday, so that was sorted.
Once back home, I saw that there was a wee beastie where I was to leave my towel to dry: a Cricket, so I snapped it with both the phone and big camera, now that the lens is working fine again.
And then a shower, and a fresh change of clothes, all to be ready for the pre-show of Le Tour, and then four hours of GC action in Stage 2 of the Tour in Spain.I struggle to stay awake, as cyclists battle conditions and geography to see who wins. It all came down to three circuits of the 1992 Olympic Park, and Jonas is triumphant once again.
I was going to watch all of Norway v Brasil, but was 0-0 at half time, half nine, and I thought I would go to bed as although it was tense, not heavy with goalmouth action.
This would also mean missing England play Mexico which was due to kick off at one, but was delayed, as predicted, by over an hour.
Sunday, 5 July 2026
Saturday 4th July 2026
Life seems to have slowed down, judging from my photographs taken so far this month.
I expected to take hundreds in the New Forest, but then dropped my camera and lens in the bog, and the lens filled with water.
I could only think about explaining to Jools how we had to spend £800 on a replacement.
But I live in hope that the misting will ease, and that the autofocus still works, despite the mist, maybe I'll get lucky.
In fact, after putting the lens out on the storage box to warm up to evaporate more water vapour, I tried it out, and was delighted to find it mist-free, and able to take shots of the flowers nearby.
It remains to be seen if there will be long term issues, but for now, happy days.
There is supposed to be a heatwave coming next week, but for now temperatures in the low twenties, and with a cooling breeze, and we had to get back into the habit of phys.
So, I set the alarm for six, though that wasn't needed, as I was up and attem at quarter to. We had a coffee, so ready to go at ten to seven.
I did thirty five minutes, which was what I had aimed for, though was pretty sweaty come the last five minutes. But my recovery time is much, much better, so after standing outside for a couple of minutes, I was fine.
We then go to Tesco as we were short of a number of things, but mostly to buy salad stuff, so I don't need to cook. Or cook much.
Back home again, we have a brew and breakfast. I have a shave and shower, then try on the new B-52s and Devo t shirts I bought which arrived Friday. They fit fine. Probably could have done a size smaller, but comfort is everything.
Good news is that Saturday was the first stage of the 2026 Le Tour. Sadly, ITV Sport lost the rights last year after some 30 years, and its presenters became friends for the four weeks of the tour. Now live coverage is on TNT sports, and so for a months subscription of thirty pounds I could watch all stages.
Until we leave for La Belle France in fifteen days!
I made the first stage of Rumtopf: added strawberries and pineapple and some sugar. This will be left to stew in a bottle of cheap rum until Christmas. I may add more fruit as and when.
Eeeek.
So, I set up the channels, but being a Team Time Trial, it began at four and would last for just over two hours, and overrun with the first round of 16 games at six.
Barcelona looks a very fine city, and a place to visit, though perhaps not at the height of summer.
Then the football, Canada v Morocco. Canada dominated the first half, though failed to score. Which would be a huge problem. Morocco score in the second half, after waking up. And as Canada pushed for a leveller, Morocco scored another, then a third in injury time.
here was no way was I going to sit up to watch the France v Paraguay game which kicked off at ten.
I expected to take hundreds in the New Forest, but then dropped my camera and lens in the bog, and the lens filled with water.
I could only think about explaining to Jools how we had to spend £800 on a replacement.
But I live in hope that the misting will ease, and that the autofocus still works, despite the mist, maybe I'll get lucky.
In fact, after putting the lens out on the storage box to warm up to evaporate more water vapour, I tried it out, and was delighted to find it mist-free, and able to take shots of the flowers nearby.
It remains to be seen if there will be long term issues, but for now, happy days.
There is supposed to be a heatwave coming next week, but for now temperatures in the low twenties, and with a cooling breeze, and we had to get back into the habit of phys.
So, I set the alarm for six, though that wasn't needed, as I was up and attem at quarter to. We had a coffee, so ready to go at ten to seven.
I did thirty five minutes, which was what I had aimed for, though was pretty sweaty come the last five minutes. But my recovery time is much, much better, so after standing outside for a couple of minutes, I was fine.
We then go to Tesco as we were short of a number of things, but mostly to buy salad stuff, so I don't need to cook. Or cook much.
Back home again, we have a brew and breakfast. I have a shave and shower, then try on the new B-52s and Devo t shirts I bought which arrived Friday. They fit fine. Probably could have done a size smaller, but comfort is everything.
Good news is that Saturday was the first stage of the 2026 Le Tour. Sadly, ITV Sport lost the rights last year after some 30 years, and its presenters became friends for the four weeks of the tour. Now live coverage is on TNT sports, and so for a months subscription of thirty pounds I could watch all stages.
Until we leave for La Belle France in fifteen days!
I made the first stage of Rumtopf: added strawberries and pineapple and some sugar. This will be left to stew in a bottle of cheap rum until Christmas. I may add more fruit as and when.Eeeek.
So, I set up the channels, but being a Team Time Trial, it began at four and would last for just over two hours, and overrun with the first round of 16 games at six.
Barcelona looks a very fine city, and a place to visit, though perhaps not at the height of summer.Then the football, Canada v Morocco. Canada dominated the first half, though failed to score. Which would be a huge problem. Morocco score in the second half, after waking up. And as Canada pushed for a leveller, Morocco scored another, then a third in injury time.
here was no way was I going to sit up to watch the France v Paraguay game which kicked off at ten.
Saturday, 4 July 2026
Friday 3rd July 2026
We have reached the end of the week again.
And despite going to bed fairly early, there was no way was six hours sleep anyway near enough.
By stupid brain had me awake at ten past four, so I laid in bed until it was time to get up just gone five. Only, I did fall back to sleep, so laid in until ten to six.
Just in time to see Jools leave for yoga, leaving me with a fresh cup of coffee.
No matter what the day's weather was like, I was going to take it easy. Only I had arranged to meet from Fran at lunchtime to go to Sandwich Bay for some orchid and dragonfly action.
But until then I could kick back, drink tea and have breakfast.
Through the morning there was phot editing and writing up Thursday's adventure to the New Forest, though surprised to only have three shots worth posting, mainly due to dunking the lens in bog water.
Sigh.
It did work as normal first thing, so I thought I had got off lightly, but was to discover at Sandwich Bay, the warm sunshine evaporated the water still inside, misting the optics up again, though not as bad. But the lens wasn't usable.
Sigh, again.
I left the house at quarter past eleven to drive into town for my last jab for three months.
In the waiting room was the same sad faces, different people each time, but with the same, sad expressions.
I bounced up the stairs, and in a couple of minutes was called.
Right arm this time, Suzanne jabbed, and I was done.
We say goodbye and I am history, going down the stairs and walking back to the car park to drive to Sandwich station to collect Fran on the twenty past midday train.
The train pulls in, and Fran arrives. From the station its a five minute drive to the observatory.
I check that it is good in the orchid meadow, so we walk over the road to find the meadow had been cut, but the hay yet to be harvested. So we have to take huge strides to get over the seven lines of thatch piled high to get to the gate the other side.
I look through the viewfinder of the big camera and find it misted up again, unlike when I tested it first thing.
Darn it.
So, we walk to the meadow, take phone shots of the Marsh helleborines.
Then round the corner to see the Yellow bartsia, which Fran wanted to see for a year's tick.
It was then a handsome looking fly landed on me, not realising I was its lunch, and it was busy sucking up blood. I asked Fran to take its picture, which she did, I then swept it off, to find a puncture wound and a trail of the red stuff.
That would itch later!
Back across the meadow, then along the road to the ponds for some dragonfly hunting, though I would sit and take in the scene and warm sunshine rather than go hunting.
Fran went hunting, hoping to find the Red-veined darter I snapped earlier in the week.
Sadly, she failed to find it, but saw much else, so was happy.
It was half two, so we had to make tracks as I was to pick up Jools at three. We stopped for an ice cream, then I drove back into town and dropped Fran at the station before heading back to the bypass and on to Dover.
Jools was waiting on Cherrytree, so she jumps in, and we speed off back home up to the Castle and then along Reach Road with fine views over the Channel to the chalk cliffs of the French coast.
Not much else to report.
We had dinner of bangers and mash, Boston beans and creamed spinach, all eaten and washed up for the music quiz at six.
And that was it, other than the evening game, Australia v Egypt, which was OK, but 1-1 at full time, and with the prospect of extra time and penalties, I bailed and went to bed at nine, and was OK about it.
So it goes.
And despite going to bed fairly early, there was no way was six hours sleep anyway near enough.
By stupid brain had me awake at ten past four, so I laid in bed until it was time to get up just gone five. Only, I did fall back to sleep, so laid in until ten to six.
Just in time to see Jools leave for yoga, leaving me with a fresh cup of coffee.
No matter what the day's weather was like, I was going to take it easy. Only I had arranged to meet from Fran at lunchtime to go to Sandwich Bay for some orchid and dragonfly action.
But until then I could kick back, drink tea and have breakfast.
Through the morning there was phot editing and writing up Thursday's adventure to the New Forest, though surprised to only have three shots worth posting, mainly due to dunking the lens in bog water.
Sigh.
It did work as normal first thing, so I thought I had got off lightly, but was to discover at Sandwich Bay, the warm sunshine evaporated the water still inside, misting the optics up again, though not as bad. But the lens wasn't usable.
Sigh, again.I left the house at quarter past eleven to drive into town for my last jab for three months.
In the waiting room was the same sad faces, different people each time, but with the same, sad expressions.
I bounced up the stairs, and in a couple of minutes was called. Right arm this time, Suzanne jabbed, and I was done.
We say goodbye and I am history, going down the stairs and walking back to the car park to drive to Sandwich station to collect Fran on the twenty past midday train.
The train pulls in, and Fran arrives. From the station its a five minute drive to the observatory.
I check that it is good in the orchid meadow, so we walk over the road to find the meadow had been cut, but the hay yet to be harvested. So we have to take huge strides to get over the seven lines of thatch piled high to get to the gate the other side.
I look through the viewfinder of the big camera and find it misted up again, unlike when I tested it first thing.Darn it.
So, we walk to the meadow, take phone shots of the Marsh helleborines.
Then round the corner to see the Yellow bartsia, which Fran wanted to see for a year's tick.
It was then a handsome looking fly landed on me, not realising I was its lunch, and it was busy sucking up blood. I asked Fran to take its picture, which she did, I then swept it off, to find a puncture wound and a trail of the red stuff.That would itch later!
Back across the meadow, then along the road to the ponds for some dragonfly hunting, though I would sit and take in the scene and warm sunshine rather than go hunting.
Fran went hunting, hoping to find the Red-veined darter I snapped earlier in the week.
Sadly, she failed to find it, but saw much else, so was happy.
It was half two, so we had to make tracks as I was to pick up Jools at three. We stopped for an ice cream, then I drove back into town and dropped Fran at the station before heading back to the bypass and on to Dover.
Jools was waiting on Cherrytree, so she jumps in, and we speed off back home up to the Castle and then along Reach Road with fine views over the Channel to the chalk cliffs of the French coast.
Not much else to report.We had dinner of bangers and mash, Boston beans and creamed spinach, all eaten and washed up for the music quiz at six.
And that was it, other than the evening game, Australia v Egypt, which was OK, but 1-1 at full time, and with the prospect of extra time and penalties, I bailed and went to bed at nine, and was OK about it.
So it goes.
Thursday 2nd July 2026
Due to a miscalculation on my part, far too dull to explain here, I still have one UK and Ireland orchid species yet to see.
This is the Heath fragrant, which until a few years ago was lumped into the other two fragrant orchid species under one catch all "Fragrant orchid" species.
Genetic sequencing meant that there are different species, and the Heath like acidic soils, of which there is little in Kent, and all our Fragrents are Common or Chalk.
Chalk and Common are the same here.
So, in trying to track down Heath fragrents, there is one site in Sussex that has them, though a friend went at the weekend and reported it to be turning to seed and all bar three flowers now gone brown.
That leaves us with the next nearest: The New Forest.
This is a three and a half hour drive. On a good day, and there are no good days on the M25. Three and a half hours there and back.
But I bit the bullet and arranged a trip out to the site near Sway for Thursday.
Fran would arrive at Dover at half eight, we would drive to Wateringbury to collect Ian, then drive along the M26 and M25 round to the M3, down to Southampton and along the M27 to the New Forest.
But first, and clenching our teeth, we agree to go to the gym, what with it being Thursday and all.
I had planned on doing 35 minutes, but talked myself down to thirty, telling myself I would be walking miles later in the day. Which was true.
Back home for a shower, breakfast and a fresh cuppa, and so ready to collect Fran at half eight, and head up the busy M20 at rush hour.
A cloudy morning with a hint of drizzle, soon gave over to blue skies and periods of warm sunshine. Perfect for butterfly chasing, as the New Forest is one of the locations for a new blue butter species, for me: The Silver-studded Blue.
We turn off and head down the Medway Valley to collect Ian, so the car was loaded well. From his, up to the M26 and head west, and keep going.
Traffic wasn't too bad, until we reached the A3 junction, which after three years or more work and billions of pounds spent on upgrades, you would think there would be no hold ups, but is worse than before.
But we make good time, turn down the M3 down through Basingstoke and Winchester before turning west towards the New Forest.
It was all pleasant enough on the motorway, we made good time at a sensible speed. But once off the motorway and into the Forest itself, there was traffic.
Trucks, cars, motorhomes, caravans and more caravans.
Capital of the New Forest is the town/village of Lyndhurst, which we crawl through to the junction and start of the one way system, then west again into and across the moorland to Sway.
Sway.
Sway through the crowds to an empty place.
Sway is a small village, and to the west is some large mansions behind walls and gates, though on the other side of the road is the heath.
We park.
And walk up the road, past the mansions. A route I took three years ago when shown Bog orchids.
Remember kids: Fens are alkali marshes, and bogs are acid marshes.
How hard could Bog orchids be to find at the site I had seen them recently?
Quite hard as it turned out. As one bog looks very much alike, and anyway if I found the right on, it wouldn't look the same as it was three years ago.
Bog orchids are small and green, but Marsh fragrents are large and showy, but sight of neither did we see.
At leas there was the Silver-studded blues to chase, and Fran found one that had settled, so I walked quickly through the bog, not checking how firm the ground was, as I had done to that point.
One last step and my right foot sunk, my left crumpled, and I feel onto my camera, pushing it into the black boggy water.
Ian helped my up, but the camera and lens was soaked and coated with black mud, which I cleaned off.
I took shots of the butterfly, though auto-focus did not work.
After two hours, we decided to try another site, on the other side of the village of which I had eight historical records for.
I was warned this was very boggy, and that we would not get close to the orchids, so needed a telephoto lens.
On the way back to the car, we came across several Heath spotted orchids hanging on, so they got snapped. And Fran found a few Lesser skullcaps, which also got snapped.
A ten minute drive through the village of Sway brought us to an area of heathland beside the railway. I drive up and down twice looking for a place to park until I spied a place behind ann open barrier, though not an official car park, it would do us for an hour.
I hoped.
We got out, put our boots on and tried to compare the snip of a map with records with Google maps. Not helped by the poor reception.
We walked along a track through ferns and bracken, sending clouds of Silver-studded Blues into the air as we walked.
To our left was, clearly, a low-lying area, and it was there we would have to go. So, we found a path and struck out towards where we hoped the orchids would be.
I was expecting very boggy conditions, but what we found was patchy, but the bed of the stream that fed the bog was so dry we could walk along it.
No matter how hard we looked and walked, of the Heath fragrant there was no sign. If it was there, we would have seen it.
It was gone four, we were hot, thirsty and hungry.
We walked towards the car.
We changed into our shoes, and I set the sat nav for home.
The plan had been to find a pub, but the only ones found were along the high street in Lyndhurst, with no parking. And the motorway was just a few miles further on, so we headed out of the Forest and turned north.
We stopped at a service station for drinks and a snack. I bought some limited edition McDonald's burger: a Sweet Carolina BBQ Stack, which Maccy Dees succeeded again in making the best sounding burger taste exactly the same all all their other burgers.
It was bland.
In the extreme.
As we sat on a bench outside, the first Small tortoiseshell flew by looking glorious, showing even at a service station, nature is there, if we look for it.
Back on the motorway and turning north back up the M3, and traffic was light, so it was easy going.
Until we neared the junction with the M25, and the jams began.
We queued to get onto the junction, inched round that, then inched onto the M25, and joined the jam that wasn't going anywhere quickly.
The sat nav suggested that we would reach Wateringbury at ten past six to drop Ian off. It was nearly an hour out.
That was mainly because of rubberneckers at an accident on the other carriageway, and after that traffic went to 70, and so we were soon bac in Kent, in the warm light of a summer's evening.
We dropped Ian off, turned back down the hill, and along and up at Mereworth, ten miles to the M26, turning for the coast.
I drop Fran off at Faverhsam, once we had gone past the showground at Detling.
And so the last leg past Canterbury to Dover, getting back at ten past eight.
I was shattered.
I had a beer.
And a pizza.
Then watched the second half of the Spain v Austria game, Spain easing to an easy 3-0 win.
I went to bed soon after the final whistle.
This is the Heath fragrant, which until a few years ago was lumped into the other two fragrant orchid species under one catch all "Fragrant orchid" species.
Genetic sequencing meant that there are different species, and the Heath like acidic soils, of which there is little in Kent, and all our Fragrents are Common or Chalk.
Chalk and Common are the same here.
So, in trying to track down Heath fragrents, there is one site in Sussex that has them, though a friend went at the weekend and reported it to be turning to seed and all bar three flowers now gone brown.
That leaves us with the next nearest: The New Forest.
This is a three and a half hour drive. On a good day, and there are no good days on the M25. Three and a half hours there and back.
But I bit the bullet and arranged a trip out to the site near Sway for Thursday.
Fran would arrive at Dover at half eight, we would drive to Wateringbury to collect Ian, then drive along the M26 and M25 round to the M3, down to Southampton and along the M27 to the New Forest.
But first, and clenching our teeth, we agree to go to the gym, what with it being Thursday and all.
I had planned on doing 35 minutes, but talked myself down to thirty, telling myself I would be walking miles later in the day. Which was true.
Back home for a shower, breakfast and a fresh cuppa, and so ready to collect Fran at half eight, and head up the busy M20 at rush hour.
A cloudy morning with a hint of drizzle, soon gave over to blue skies and periods of warm sunshine. Perfect for butterfly chasing, as the New Forest is one of the locations for a new blue butter species, for me: The Silver-studded Blue.
We turn off and head down the Medway Valley to collect Ian, so the car was loaded well. From his, up to the M26 and head west, and keep going.
Traffic wasn't too bad, until we reached the A3 junction, which after three years or more work and billions of pounds spent on upgrades, you would think there would be no hold ups, but is worse than before.
But we make good time, turn down the M3 down through Basingstoke and Winchester before turning west towards the New Forest.
It was all pleasant enough on the motorway, we made good time at a sensible speed. But once off the motorway and into the Forest itself, there was traffic.
Trucks, cars, motorhomes, caravans and more caravans.
Capital of the New Forest is the town/village of Lyndhurst, which we crawl through to the junction and start of the one way system, then west again into and across the moorland to Sway.
Sway.
Sway through the crowds to an empty place.
Sway is a small village, and to the west is some large mansions behind walls and gates, though on the other side of the road is the heath.
We park.
And walk up the road, past the mansions. A route I took three years ago when shown Bog orchids.
Remember kids: Fens are alkali marshes, and bogs are acid marshes.
How hard could Bog orchids be to find at the site I had seen them recently?
Quite hard as it turned out. As one bog looks very much alike, and anyway if I found the right on, it wouldn't look the same as it was three years ago.
Bog orchids are small and green, but Marsh fragrents are large and showy, but sight of neither did we see.
At leas there was the Silver-studded blues to chase, and Fran found one that had settled, so I walked quickly through the bog, not checking how firm the ground was, as I had done to that point.One last step and my right foot sunk, my left crumpled, and I feel onto my camera, pushing it into the black boggy water.
Ian helped my up, but the camera and lens was soaked and coated with black mud, which I cleaned off.
I took shots of the butterfly, though auto-focus did not work.
After two hours, we decided to try another site, on the other side of the village of which I had eight historical records for.
I was warned this was very boggy, and that we would not get close to the orchids, so needed a telephoto lens.On the way back to the car, we came across several Heath spotted orchids hanging on, so they got snapped. And Fran found a few Lesser skullcaps, which also got snapped.
A ten minute drive through the village of Sway brought us to an area of heathland beside the railway. I drive up and down twice looking for a place to park until I spied a place behind ann open barrier, though not an official car park, it would do us for an hour.
I hoped.
We got out, put our boots on and tried to compare the snip of a map with records with Google maps. Not helped by the poor reception.
We walked along a track through ferns and bracken, sending clouds of Silver-studded Blues into the air as we walked.To our left was, clearly, a low-lying area, and it was there we would have to go. So, we found a path and struck out towards where we hoped the orchids would be.
I was expecting very boggy conditions, but what we found was patchy, but the bed of the stream that fed the bog was so dry we could walk along it.
No matter how hard we looked and walked, of the Heath fragrant there was no sign. If it was there, we would have seen it.
It was gone four, we were hot, thirsty and hungry.
We walked towards the car.
We changed into our shoes, and I set the sat nav for home.
The plan had been to find a pub, but the only ones found were along the high street in Lyndhurst, with no parking. And the motorway was just a few miles further on, so we headed out of the Forest and turned north.
We stopped at a service station for drinks and a snack. I bought some limited edition McDonald's burger: a Sweet Carolina BBQ Stack, which Maccy Dees succeeded again in making the best sounding burger taste exactly the same all all their other burgers.
It was bland.
In the extreme.
As we sat on a bench outside, the first Small tortoiseshell flew by looking glorious, showing even at a service station, nature is there, if we look for it.
Back on the motorway and turning north back up the M3, and traffic was light, so it was easy going.
Until we neared the junction with the M25, and the jams began.
We queued to get onto the junction, inched round that, then inched onto the M25, and joined the jam that wasn't going anywhere quickly.
The sat nav suggested that we would reach Wateringbury at ten past six to drop Ian off. It was nearly an hour out.
That was mainly because of rubberneckers at an accident on the other carriageway, and after that traffic went to 70, and so we were soon bac in Kent, in the warm light of a summer's evening.
We dropped Ian off, turned back down the hill, and along and up at Mereworth, ten miles to the M26, turning for the coast.
I drop Fran off at Faverhsam, once we had gone past the showground at Detling.
And so the last leg past Canterbury to Dover, getting back at ten past eight.
I was shattered.
I had a beer.
And a pizza.
Then watched the second half of the Spain v Austria game, Spain easing to an easy 3-0 win.
I went to bed soon after the final whistle.
Friday, 3 July 2026
Wednesday 1st July 2026
Life is better after more than nine hours sleep. But the truth is, I would probably stay up late that evening and get up at five the next morning after less than six hours sleep, so be back to square one.
So it goes.
Middle of the week again, and my next to last B12 jab at lunchtime, which scuppers most plans which could last all day.
Jools has her fitness class first thing. I say fist thing, she leaves just after half seven. By which time my woolly head was clearing after a coffee, and was thinking about breakfast.
It was a fine morning, breezy again, but fine.
I wait for Jools to return before having breakfast, making sure the kettle was freshly boiled.
And in truth, after breakfast, not much to do until eleven when I have to drive into town for the injection.
Parking is easiest in front of ASDA/Morrisons, then walk through the alleyway at the back.
The surgery is typical on institutions. It has sad-faced people waiting endlessly, and the smell of bleach or some other cleaning fluid. Locked doors, needing the receptionist to press a button to unlock. And despite it being warm and sunny outside, inside it seems that a sadness, or moroseness hangs heavy in the air.
I climb the stairs, once the door is unlocked, and wait two minutes before being called.
Suzzanne greets me, we swap pleasantries, I roll up my sleeve and she prepares the "syrup", and jabs. So the deed is done.
See you on Friday. Have a great rest of the day!
On the way back I pop into ASDA for something for lunch and am back in the car and driving home just before midday.
We have lunch and a brew. And the afternoon stretches out before us like a long stretchy thing. I sat on the patio listening to podcasts with the headphones on, while Scully laid beside me in the shade, purring and snoring.
Cats can multitask too.
Dark clouds gather, but looked far more dramatic than actual storm clouds, and they produce no rain.
England played Congo at five, so dinner and washing up was done by then, so I could sit on the sofa and suffer watching our national team struggle.
And struggle they did, labouring against a well set-up defence, and the Premier League's best players unable to unlock Congo's defence.
Congo always looked dangerous on the counter, and so was no surprise when they found acres of space in the England half and scored after nine minutes.
With fifteen minutes to go, Congo tiring, England brought on Saka and Gordon, and they found space, and set up Kane to score twice to send England through.
After the game ended, players and fans sang "Wonderwall" together, while players hugged and smiled.
Later, Belgium played Senegal. Was a wonderful first half, with Senegal taking the lead on the half hour, but it was half nine, I had to be up at five, so went to bed, and so missed a game which Belgium came from 2-0 down in the last four minutes to level and take it to extra time, before winning it late on.
Football, eh?
So it goes.
Middle of the week again, and my next to last B12 jab at lunchtime, which scuppers most plans which could last all day.
Jools has her fitness class first thing. I say fist thing, she leaves just after half seven. By which time my woolly head was clearing after a coffee, and was thinking about breakfast.
It was a fine morning, breezy again, but fine.
I wait for Jools to return before having breakfast, making sure the kettle was freshly boiled.
And in truth, after breakfast, not much to do until eleven when I have to drive into town for the injection.
Parking is easiest in front of ASDA/Morrisons, then walk through the alleyway at the back.
The surgery is typical on institutions. It has sad-faced people waiting endlessly, and the smell of bleach or some other cleaning fluid. Locked doors, needing the receptionist to press a button to unlock. And despite it being warm and sunny outside, inside it seems that a sadness, or moroseness hangs heavy in the air.
I climb the stairs, once the door is unlocked, and wait two minutes before being called.
Suzzanne greets me, we swap pleasantries, I roll up my sleeve and she prepares the "syrup", and jabs. So the deed is done.
See you on Friday. Have a great rest of the day!
On the way back I pop into ASDA for something for lunch and am back in the car and driving home just before midday.
We have lunch and a brew. And the afternoon stretches out before us like a long stretchy thing. I sat on the patio listening to podcasts with the headphones on, while Scully laid beside me in the shade, purring and snoring.
Cats can multitask too.
Dark clouds gather, but looked far more dramatic than actual storm clouds, and they produce no rain.
England played Congo at five, so dinner and washing up was done by then, so I could sit on the sofa and suffer watching our national team struggle.And struggle they did, labouring against a well set-up defence, and the Premier League's best players unable to unlock Congo's defence.
Congo always looked dangerous on the counter, and so was no surprise when they found acres of space in the England half and scored after nine minutes.
With fifteen minutes to go, Congo tiring, England brought on Saka and Gordon, and they found space, and set up Kane to score twice to send England through.
After the game ended, players and fans sang "Wonderwall" together, while players hugged and smiled.
Later, Belgium played Senegal. Was a wonderful first half, with Senegal taking the lead on the half hour, but it was half nine, I had to be up at five, so went to bed, and so missed a game which Belgium came from 2-0 down in the last four minutes to level and take it to extra time, before winning it late on.
Football, eh?
Wednesday, 1 July 2026
One Order
This week it was announced that on their tour of North America, New Order would no longer feature founding member Stephen Morris and his wife, Gillian Gilbert, due to health reasons. And as bassist Peter Hook has not been in the band for two decades, the only original member will be Berbard Sumner.
I have said for many years that without Hooky there can't be New Order, so without three of them that trebles it down.
This then is the age old question of how few orginal members does there have to be to still be honestly called by the act's name?
The Who tour with just Daltry and Townsend playing now that Entwhistle and Moon have passed away. Is that really The Who?
The Stranglers now tour with just Jean-Jacques Burnel as the sole original member, is that really The Stranglers now, even if Baz Warne has been singler longer than Hugh Cornwell ever was?
A few years back, I had tckets to see Dr. Feelgood in concert, thinking that Wilko Johnson was still in the band. But he had left again years before. In fact no original members of the band are in the current touring version under that name. So is that really Dr. Feelgood? No matter how long some have been in the band, its just a tribute act, but under the name of the band they are aping.
Both Morris and Gilbert are in their late 60s, and suffering from ill health. Not everyone can be Mick Jagger or Paul McCartney, performing into their 80s. In Jagger's case, leaping around stage like a man half his age. We all get old, but when its over shouldn't it be over?
Barney could call Hooky to rejoin the band, I suppose.
I have said for many years that without Hooky there can't be New Order, so without three of them that trebles it down.
This then is the age old question of how few orginal members does there have to be to still be honestly called by the act's name?
The Who tour with just Daltry and Townsend playing now that Entwhistle and Moon have passed away. Is that really The Who?
The Stranglers now tour with just Jean-Jacques Burnel as the sole original member, is that really The Stranglers now, even if Baz Warne has been singler longer than Hugh Cornwell ever was?
A few years back, I had tckets to see Dr. Feelgood in concert, thinking that Wilko Johnson was still in the band. But he had left again years before. In fact no original members of the band are in the current touring version under that name. So is that really Dr. Feelgood? No matter how long some have been in the band, its just a tribute act, but under the name of the band they are aping.
Both Morris and Gilbert are in their late 60s, and suffering from ill health. Not everyone can be Mick Jagger or Paul McCartney, performing into their 80s. In Jagger's case, leaping around stage like a man half his age. We all get old, but when its over shouldn't it be over?
Barney could call Hooky to rejoin the band, I suppose.
Tuesday 30th June 2026
I woke up tired.
A late night watching the second game, bailing before extra time started, and then awake at ten past five so I could get ready for the gym, nice and early.
I got dressed, made and drank coffee, and then was off to Whitfield, but I had to be back sharpish as the car was back in the garage to have the air-con compressor replaced and then re-gassed.
In the end, it was too humid to do the full forty minutes, I did thirty. But told myself I will do thirty five next time.
I tell myself.
I get back home at ten to seven, and Jools is off into town to drop the car off then do her class, followed by knit and natter, before waiting until the car was done.
She should be home at about two.
I laze around for an hour. I read my old blog posts for the day over the previous decade, and marvel at how life has changed, and how stress-free life is now we have hung up our hot keyboards.
I have a shave and shower, and feel human again. Outside its cloudy so sitting on the patio to read is comfortable, and Scully would happily lay beside me.
The morning passes.
The lawnmeadow is now almost free of flowers. I have collected some Yellow rattle seeds, and I could mow it, but there might still be flowers yet to emerge, so will leave it until we get back from our road trip in the middle of August.
I have oatcakes with marmalade for lunch, along with a huge fresh brew, and eat sitting on the patio while Mulder looked on hungrily.
Cats don't like marmalade, I tell him.
Jools gets home at half two, so despite not being hungry, I cook the main meal of the day: defrosted chilli and rice, which is about ready in half an hour.
With it I had a beer, which might have been the mistake.
Once the sun came out, I checked the garden and find just two gooseberries on our plants, one very small. So, we can have a small crumble or leave the two fruit to the thrushes.
I sat down to watch the early game: Ivory Coast v Norway. But I couldn't keep my eyes open in the first half, so missed at least half of it. I saw all of the second, including the winner from Haarland, where he miskicked the ball and it rolled in over the line, just out of the reach of the keeper.
At eight, I check Scully, feed her and lock the doors. And to bed for at least eight hours sleep.
I fell straight to sleep.
Night night, Campers!
A late night watching the second game, bailing before extra time started, and then awake at ten past five so I could get ready for the gym, nice and early.
I got dressed, made and drank coffee, and then was off to Whitfield, but I had to be back sharpish as the car was back in the garage to have the air-con compressor replaced and then re-gassed.
In the end, it was too humid to do the full forty minutes, I did thirty. But told myself I will do thirty five next time.
I tell myself.
I get back home at ten to seven, and Jools is off into town to drop the car off then do her class, followed by knit and natter, before waiting until the car was done.
She should be home at about two.
I laze around for an hour. I read my old blog posts for the day over the previous decade, and marvel at how life has changed, and how stress-free life is now we have hung up our hot keyboards.
I have a shave and shower, and feel human again. Outside its cloudy so sitting on the patio to read is comfortable, and Scully would happily lay beside me.
The morning passes.
The lawnmeadow is now almost free of flowers. I have collected some Yellow rattle seeds, and I could mow it, but there might still be flowers yet to emerge, so will leave it until we get back from our road trip in the middle of August.
I have oatcakes with marmalade for lunch, along with a huge fresh brew, and eat sitting on the patio while Mulder looked on hungrily.
Cats don't like marmalade, I tell him.
Jools gets home at half two, so despite not being hungry, I cook the main meal of the day: defrosted chilli and rice, which is about ready in half an hour.
With it I had a beer, which might have been the mistake.
Once the sun came out, I checked the garden and find just two gooseberries on our plants, one very small. So, we can have a small crumble or leave the two fruit to the thrushes.
I sat down to watch the early game: Ivory Coast v Norway. But I couldn't keep my eyes open in the first half, so missed at least half of it. I saw all of the second, including the winner from Haarland, where he miskicked the ball and it rolled in over the line, just out of the reach of the keeper.At eight, I check Scully, feed her and lock the doors. And to bed for at least eight hours sleep.
I fell straight to sleep.
Night night, Campers!
Tuesday, 30 June 2026
Monday 29th June 2026
I needed the rest on Sunday.
And with falling temperatures and no evening game, I slept better than I have for a week.
So the question on Monday morning was whether to go to the gym, or wait until Tuesday as normal.
In the end, I thought another day of rest would do it, so would try to lay in.
In the end, I didn't. Up early enough so that it was cool before ethe sun got higher and warmer.
Coffee and checking on the world.
Slow to start.
However, with the day being sunny, not too breezy, and just warm, what better way to spend time than to go back to Sandwich Bay.
Before then, Jools had a mentoring session at the gym,. I would drop her off, then go to the vets to collect new syringes and drop off the sharp box, before going into town for another B12 injection.
Jools was dropped off fine, even after leaving our departure a little late. I collected the syringes, and had twenty minutes to get into town, find a place to park beside ASDA and then walk through to the surgery.
This I did with three minutes to spare, I took a seat and was waited to be called.
Suzanne welcomed me, we made small talk while she got the shot ready. I turn my gaze away and she jabbed.
See you on Wednesday!
Back outside, and back to the car and braving the one way system along London Road to up through Buckland and back to the sports centre to wait for Jools.
We were all done by eleven, so took a steady drive along the Sandwich Road past Eastry, then through the houses to the estate.
And once at the observatory, we found the car park nearly full, so we find a space. I go inside to make sure there was no ringing so that we could enter the fenced area to look for orchids and other rare plants.
The Southern Marsh are over for another year, but the numbers of Marsh helleborines have trebled in the two weeks since I was last here. I take a few shots.
Then go round to the other side of the enclosure to look for another rare plant, Yellow bartsia. The area where they usually grown in large numbers flooded over the winter, and vegetation is only now returning.
But as I walk along the path, I see three spikes of my target species, just beginning to flower.
On the way back to the observatory, I am distracted time and time again by butterflies: A Brown argus, a couple of Gatekepers, several Meadow Browns, even more Marbled whites, Large and Small skippers, and several Small coppers, all of which I chase and snap a couple.
We walk back over the meadow, over the road then along towards Deal until we come to a stile, through that and into the Land of the Dragons.
Four pools have been dug, three of them since one of our target species, the Dainty damselfly was rediscovered here. I know which pond to focus on, and soon find several male Dainty.
Which I snap.
And then a single female, which I also snap.
Around the original pond, where the vegetation is thickets, there are many more damsels and dragons, including a Red-veined darter which after ten minutes of chasing, I get shots of. A life tick.
We sit for a while, enjoying the sunshine and breeze, and the fact we have nothing to get back for, just lunch and some more relaxing.
This is our life now. And is great.
We walked back to the car, then began the drive home, going via Deal so to call in at Sainsbury's, as we needed some bread and decent olive oil.
Cold pressed Italian olive oil, though they didn't have any from Tuscany, they did have a bottle from Umbria, so bought that. Also a baton roll for lunch, and some meat and bacon to put in it.
So that once home we had a refreshing brew and half a baton each.
The afternoon was spent writing and listening to stuff before it was dinnertime, feed the cats and make Caprese and warm the bread up.
We eat, drink and were merry.
All done in time for the first game of the Evening: Brasil v Japan, which was a very good game: Japan scored in the first half, and Brasil had to dig deep in the second to level, then score the winner in injury time.
And with falling temperatures and no evening game, I slept better than I have for a week.
So the question on Monday morning was whether to go to the gym, or wait until Tuesday as normal.
In the end, I thought another day of rest would do it, so would try to lay in.
In the end, I didn't. Up early enough so that it was cool before ethe sun got higher and warmer.
Coffee and checking on the world.
Slow to start.
However, with the day being sunny, not too breezy, and just warm, what better way to spend time than to go back to Sandwich Bay.
Before then, Jools had a mentoring session at the gym,. I would drop her off, then go to the vets to collect new syringes and drop off the sharp box, before going into town for another B12 injection.
Jools was dropped off fine, even after leaving our departure a little late. I collected the syringes, and had twenty minutes to get into town, find a place to park beside ASDA and then walk through to the surgery.
This I did with three minutes to spare, I took a seat and was waited to be called.
Suzanne welcomed me, we made small talk while she got the shot ready. I turn my gaze away and she jabbed.
See you on Wednesday!
Back outside, and back to the car and braving the one way system along London Road to up through Buckland and back to the sports centre to wait for Jools.
We were all done by eleven, so took a steady drive along the Sandwich Road past Eastry, then through the houses to the estate.
And once at the observatory, we found the car park nearly full, so we find a space. I go inside to make sure there was no ringing so that we could enter the fenced area to look for orchids and other rare plants.
The Southern Marsh are over for another year, but the numbers of Marsh helleborines have trebled in the two weeks since I was last here. I take a few shots.Then go round to the other side of the enclosure to look for another rare plant, Yellow bartsia. The area where they usually grown in large numbers flooded over the winter, and vegetation is only now returning.
But as I walk along the path, I see three spikes of my target species, just beginning to flower.
On the way back to the observatory, I am distracted time and time again by butterflies: A Brown argus, a couple of Gatekepers, several Meadow Browns, even more Marbled whites, Large and Small skippers, and several Small coppers, all of which I chase and snap a couple.
We walk back over the meadow, over the road then along towards Deal until we come to a stile, through that and into the Land of the Dragons.
Four pools have been dug, three of them since one of our target species, the Dainty damselfly was rediscovered here. I know which pond to focus on, and soon find several male Dainty.
Which I snap.And then a single female, which I also snap.
Around the original pond, where the vegetation is thickets, there are many more damsels and dragons, including a Red-veined darter which after ten minutes of chasing, I get shots of. A life tick.
We sit for a while, enjoying the sunshine and breeze, and the fact we have nothing to get back for, just lunch and some more relaxing.This is our life now. And is great.
We walked back to the car, then began the drive home, going via Deal so to call in at Sainsbury's, as we needed some bread and decent olive oil.
Cold pressed Italian olive oil, though they didn't have any from Tuscany, they did have a bottle from Umbria, so bought that. Also a baton roll for lunch, and some meat and bacon to put in it.
So that once home we had a refreshing brew and half a baton each.
The afternoon was spent writing and listening to stuff before it was dinnertime, feed the cats and make Caprese and warm the bread up.
We eat, drink and were merry.
All done in time for the first game of the Evening: Brasil v Japan, which was a very good game: Japan scored in the first half, and Brasil had to dig deep in the second to level, then score the winner in injury time.
Monday, 29 June 2026
Sunday 28th June 2026
The day after.
And it was still hot.
After a two shower day on Saturday: one when I got up and the second when back from the airshow, I said that the aim for Sunday was not to sweat or perspire at all.
That meant, another day without going to the gym.
And hopefully a lay in.
The lay in was going well until half six when without Jools to fawn over, Mulder climbed onto the bed, meowed twice in my ear and went to the back room for a snooze.
I wouldn't have minded, only I had fallen back into a deep sleep, so was woken suddenly.
It was already hot, though the BBC promised it not as hot as Saturday. I'll be the judge of that!
So, get up, get dressed and go down for coffee and see what kind of mess the world was in.
Just the usual.
Sunday usually means going to the gym, but in truth I was tired. My brain and body tired, so I thought it best to rest.
Which I did.
There was Radcliffe and Maconie to listen to at first, but then Virgin Radio failed to work on the fancy radio, so I sat in silence and did whatever I did that took all morning.
As it was cooler, I could sit on the patio and read, and sitting beside me until she overheated was Scully. Quite happy with a lazy day too, it seemed.
Jen has gone to Bury for a week with Sylv, so didn't have to go and visit.
And so the morning passed.
Lunch was warmed up leftover Chinese washed down with beer, and very nice it was. Though that meant trouble staying awake.
Really, I should have gone for a snooze, but battled drooping eyelids to stay awake.
That was made easier when Di over the road came over to discuss issues with a neighbour, which I won't go into here.
But that woke me up, as we talked for an hour or so. So that there was time for a snack of crisps and beer before the only game of the evening in the "round of 32", South Africa v Canada.
A poor game, which Canada won in injury time to go through to the round of 16.
But being knock out now, it was tense, even if I supported neither team.
And it was still hot.
After a two shower day on Saturday: one when I got up and the second when back from the airshow, I said that the aim for Sunday was not to sweat or perspire at all.
That meant, another day without going to the gym.
And hopefully a lay in.
The lay in was going well until half six when without Jools to fawn over, Mulder climbed onto the bed, meowed twice in my ear and went to the back room for a snooze.
I wouldn't have minded, only I had fallen back into a deep sleep, so was woken suddenly.
It was already hot, though the BBC promised it not as hot as Saturday. I'll be the judge of that!
So, get up, get dressed and go down for coffee and see what kind of mess the world was in.
Just the usual.
Sunday usually means going to the gym, but in truth I was tired. My brain and body tired, so I thought it best to rest.
Which I did.
There was Radcliffe and Maconie to listen to at first, but then Virgin Radio failed to work on the fancy radio, so I sat in silence and did whatever I did that took all morning.
As it was cooler, I could sit on the patio and read, and sitting beside me until she overheated was Scully. Quite happy with a lazy day too, it seemed.
Jen has gone to Bury for a week with Sylv, so didn't have to go and visit.
And so the morning passed.
Lunch was warmed up leftover Chinese washed down with beer, and very nice it was. Though that meant trouble staying awake.
Really, I should have gone for a snooze, but battled drooping eyelids to stay awake.
That was made easier when Di over the road came over to discuss issues with a neighbour, which I won't go into here.
But that woke me up, as we talked for an hour or so. So that there was time for a snack of crisps and beer before the only game of the evening in the "round of 32", South Africa v Canada.A poor game, which Canada won in injury time to go through to the round of 16.
But being knock out now, it was tense, even if I supported neither team.
Sunday, 28 June 2026
Saturday 27th June 2026
A few months back, a call was made for volunteers to man the Royal Air Force Association stall at the Headcorn Air Show.-
I had volunteered for such things a few times, but for various reasons the air shows were cancelled.
But this year, it was still on.
Despite a bit of confusion of timings and how to get in, the day rolled around and all was set.
Also rolling around on Saturday morning was thunder, as another summer storm drifted up the Channel, waking me at four, so I lay awake until it was time to get up at five.
The storm rumbled on, and once I was ready leave after a coffee, it was still drizzling, which would make it humid.
There was no clear time to be there, other than the gates opened at ten, but that the leader for the day, a lady named Makenzie said she and another guy would be there from half six to get the stall ready.
I drive up the motorway to Ashford, then out along the A28, traffic was at least light before seven in the morning, so I made good time before turning off the main road and drove through several picturesque villages before arriving at the aerodrome, parking in the field opposite.
I was waved through the gates, and directed down a line of stalls, where I could see the RAFA tents.
Once introduced, I was given a picture of the table display, pointed to two vans filled with boxes and told all stock was in there. Somewhere.
So for two hours we filled up the four tables at the front of the stall, filled with RAF-themed goods from cheap and cheerful, to things more expensive, the most pricy item being a signed and framed print of a Red Arrow signed by all nine pilots.
Yours for forty quid.
The clouds cleared, and the sun came out, so the humidity rose quickly. I took a bottle of water, but had drunk that by half ten, so went to another stall to buy more ice cold water to keep hydrated.
Under the roof of the tent, the heat was kept in, so that we were all soon suffering from the temperatures.
But we did a roaring trade, and we were shown how to use the card reader thing, and were soon collecting money for the good cause.
Either side of midday, the humidity crept towards something like 90%. I spent over a tenner on cold bottles of water, and during lunch, another tenner on a pint of lager and a pint of alcohol free Kronenbourg. The latter had a horrible chemical taste. And if that's the best they can do, then I'll give it a miss.
We were busy all through the day, but it did east off after eleven when the flying displays started, though some were better than others, and then we had to explain to customers that despite half the stall being Red Arrow related stuff, the Arrows themselves were not going to appear.
Then smiles turned to frowns.
People who attend such things are a mixed bunch, but a significant percentage are middle-aged men dressed in combats, or combat-themed stuff, hats featuring Spitfires of Lancasters. I said to Richard, if they loved planes and the military so much, why didn't they join up? They can't all have had shin splints.
Spitfires, Hurricanes, P45s (I think) among others took to the skies.
But as families suffered with the heat and humidity, numbers began to drop as people went home early, and manning the stall became a bit boring.
Last event was a fly by and refuelling stop for a Chinook, and by then it was half four, and my legs and back were grumbling, just from standing so much.
I walked back to the car, then took five minutes to edge out of the car park, only to be stuck in a line of cars behind a driver who did not go above 30mph, even when back on the A28. They braked whenever a car came the other way, as the train of vehicles behind got longer and longer.
I got past them just as I drew near to Ashford, so could cruise round the roundabouts, past Waitrose and onto the motorway for a blast back to the coast and home.
I got back at quarter to six, Jools telling me I had missed the ice cream van, but shad had one without me.
I took off my top, and my t shirt underneath had dried out, leaving behind lots of salt stains.
A brew, then supper of garlic chick and stir fry followed before I went for a shower and a change of clothes.
Kicking of at ten, was England v Panama. I was shattered and snoozed through most of the first hour, the excited radio commentary woke me when anything near a change occurred.
England score twice late on, but was a poor game and performance.
I went to bed at midnight, and it was still hot.
I had volunteered for such things a few times, but for various reasons the air shows were cancelled.
But this year, it was still on.
Despite a bit of confusion of timings and how to get in, the day rolled around and all was set.
Also rolling around on Saturday morning was thunder, as another summer storm drifted up the Channel, waking me at four, so I lay awake until it was time to get up at five.
The storm rumbled on, and once I was ready leave after a coffee, it was still drizzling, which would make it humid.
There was no clear time to be there, other than the gates opened at ten, but that the leader for the day, a lady named Makenzie said she and another guy would be there from half six to get the stall ready.
I drive up the motorway to Ashford, then out along the A28, traffic was at least light before seven in the morning, so I made good time before turning off the main road and drove through several picturesque villages before arriving at the aerodrome, parking in the field opposite.
I was waved through the gates, and directed down a line of stalls, where I could see the RAFA tents.
Once introduced, I was given a picture of the table display, pointed to two vans filled with boxes and told all stock was in there. Somewhere.
So for two hours we filled up the four tables at the front of the stall, filled with RAF-themed goods from cheap and cheerful, to things more expensive, the most pricy item being a signed and framed print of a Red Arrow signed by all nine pilots.
Yours for forty quid.The clouds cleared, and the sun came out, so the humidity rose quickly. I took a bottle of water, but had drunk that by half ten, so went to another stall to buy more ice cold water to keep hydrated.
Under the roof of the tent, the heat was kept in, so that we were all soon suffering from the temperatures.But we did a roaring trade, and we were shown how to use the card reader thing, and were soon collecting money for the good cause.
Either side of midday, the humidity crept towards something like 90%. I spent over a tenner on cold bottles of water, and during lunch, another tenner on a pint of lager and a pint of alcohol free Kronenbourg. The latter had a horrible chemical taste. And if that's the best they can do, then I'll give it a miss.
We were busy all through the day, but it did east off after eleven when the flying displays started, though some were better than others, and then we had to explain to customers that despite half the stall being Red Arrow related stuff, the Arrows themselves were not going to appear.
Then smiles turned to frowns.People who attend such things are a mixed bunch, but a significant percentage are middle-aged men dressed in combats, or combat-themed stuff, hats featuring Spitfires of Lancasters. I said to Richard, if they loved planes and the military so much, why didn't they join up? They can't all have had shin splints.
Spitfires, Hurricanes, P45s (I think) among others took to the skies. But as families suffered with the heat and humidity, numbers began to drop as people went home early, and manning the stall became a bit boring.
Last event was a fly by and refuelling stop for a Chinook, and by then it was half four, and my legs and back were grumbling, just from standing so much.
I walked back to the car, then took five minutes to edge out of the car park, only to be stuck in a line of cars behind a driver who did not go above 30mph, even when back on the A28. They braked whenever a car came the other way, as the train of vehicles behind got longer and longer.
I got past them just as I drew near to Ashford, so could cruise round the roundabouts, past Waitrose and onto the motorway for a blast back to the coast and home.I got back at quarter to six, Jools telling me I had missed the ice cream van, but shad had one without me.
I took off my top, and my t shirt underneath had dried out, leaving behind lots of salt stains.
A brew, then supper of garlic chick and stir fry followed before I went for a shower and a change of clothes.
Kicking of at ten, was England v Panama. I was shattered and snoozed through most of the first hour, the excited radio commentary woke me when anything near a change occurred.
England score twice late on, but was a poor game and performance.
I went to bed at midnight, and it was still hot.
Going back to Iceland
We're not going back to Iceland, it's just another football blog.
A decade ago this week, England lost 2-0 to Iceland in the 2016 European Championships, bringing the careers of Frank Lampard Jr. and Stevie Gerrard to an end.
It was a dreadful defeat. Not beacuse that performance was bad, but coming after two decades of underperforming by England sides since the Euros held in England in 1996.
That's so long ago, those championships marked the point at which I returned from my posting in Germany to the sleepu hollow that was RAF Lyneham.
The term "golden generation" was coined after England beat Germany in Germany in 2001 by 5-1. It did seem the start of something different, coming after most of my lifetime when Germany would always beat England.
But it was England who won, became smug, while Germany realised something had to be done, and they rebuilt with youth.
Germany won the World Cup again in 2014. England did not.
These were my comments about England after the 2010 World Cup:
"And what a let down, England were even worse than in previous games, and despite pulling a goal back before half time, and having a perfectly good goal disallowed, they were a very poor second to a cool and efficient German team, that now goes on the meet Argentine in the quarter-finals. This is a healthy dose of reality for most England fans, brought up on the belief that England has always been the ebst as well as inventing the game.
But years or under-investment in youth, and over reliance on expensive imports have meant a darth of talent in the Premier League, and this day had been coming a long time, that most hadn’t seen it coming is a sad indightment on the FA and Premier League.
Many of the so-called world’s best, or Golden Generation have had their international careers brought to an inglorious end, and rightly so. Failure of the basics like how to control the ball with one touch or be able to pass to each other being worse offences than tactics or who should or shouldn’t have played.
That there are no real replacements in the pipeline means that the day when England might challenge for the World Cup is maybe a generation away, and only then if there is a sea change in attitudes, which lets be honest, isn’t going to happen any day soon."
And in 2014:
"Nothing has changed, and nothing will change, we will stumble into the major competition every two years, hoping against hope that this time it will be different, but it never is. So, until football admits to itself that there is something wrong, and the FA actually does something about it, it will not change. I was so angry after South Africa, and yet, the FA did nothing. And so this time round, I’m not angry, just disappointed that four wasted years, no real change has happened, nor has any change been put into motion.
The likes of “Super” Frank and Stevie “G” will now being closing their international careers, each two years there has been nothing but optimism followed by failure. The players say they are sorry for letting the fans down, let the FA say something similar, saying how sorry they are at the failure of getting out of the group stages for the first time since 1958.
So, while the rest of the world celebrates and looks forward to the next stage of the competition, England’s layers will be either on the beach soaking u the rays, or getting ready for pre-season. The really sad thing is eight weeks from now, the league season will be under way, and all this failure at international level will be forgotten, and the media will be telling us how great the Premier League is. And nothing will change.
Quite how English football has sunk so low, and we are so happy for it to be this way is a tale of money, money and more money. And how the incompetent FA allowed the Premier League to be set up, and failed to put in controls and so the league bloated and became the foremost football organisation in the country, and the success of the national team is of no concern to the PL, just how the billions keep rolling in from TV companies from around the world.
Eight years ago, Germany were horrified by only reaching the quarter finals, and so reorganised the game in their country, and four years later, a youthful German team took England apart en route to the semi finals. Oh, if only the FA would take such actions after this shocker, but things will not change, the same players for the most part, will be laying the same tactics and we will endure failure once again in Russia in 2018.
It is, after all, just a game, and gives us something to talk and moan about, those 52 year of hurt."
And after that defeat by Iceland:
"England lost last night to Iceland in the knock out phase of the Euros. England were dreadful, I mean really bad, and yet I found myself wanting Iceland to score a third as it would make it worse. England did not register a good chance on target the whole game, and conceded thanks to two goals that would embarrass a park team. The manager resigned, but there is no one really to replace him, because as I have pointed out, those that have gone before from Kevin Keegan to Sven to Steve McLaren to Capello and now to Roy have achieved about the same results. The only common factor is the players.
Not good enough."
In the summer of 2016, Sam Allardyce was appointed as manager. It seemed to sum up Englash football, Mike Bassett: England Manager made real. Truth is Allardyce was a better manager than he was given credit for. I think he was the highest profile England manager/coach at the time, and after "safe" Sven-Göran Eriksson, overpaid Fabio Capello, and Roy Hodgson, who else was there?
We were to find out when Allardyce was sacked: "The 2016 English football scandal was a sports corruption scandal which began on 26 September 2016 following the publishing of the first part of the Daily Telegraph newspaper's "Football for Sale" investigation into corruption in English football.[1] It resulted in the resignation of England national football team manager Sam Allardyce after only one game in charge, as well as the sacking or suspension of numerous English Football League club staff, including Barnsley assistant manager Tommy Wright."
England Under 21 coach, Gareth Southgate, was appointed, someone who had no fear in promoting those players from the U21 side to full internationals. In his first tournament as Manager, England made the semi-finals, losing to Croatia. In the delayed 2020 Euros, England made it to the final, losing to Italy, after taking the lead early on in the final. in 2022, England lost to France in the quarters, but until then performed well. Harry Kane scored on penalty, but missed a second one later on. And it was Kane who perhaps symbolises the England team reborn.
Kane is now one of the best players on the planet, has set scoring records at Tottenham, Bayern and also for England, where is is England's all time leading scorer. Supporting him is a cornucopia of other youthful players, as English teams, and English players who developed around Europe all matured into excellent players.
If Southgate had a faul, then it was to be timmid when boldness might have won England a tournament, the 2020 Euros being a case in point. Leading early on, England had Italy on the ropes, yet didn't push their advantage, and allowed Italy back into the game.
Although England have not played too well under Thomas Tuchel, who was appointed to lead the national side for 18 months until the end of this World Cup, performances alone do not win tournaments, it's all about winning, and sometimes grinding out results. Maybe England won't win the World Cup this time either, but now that we have reached the knockout phases, we shall see. Tuchel knows how he wants the team to play, and the role each player has in that potantial victory.
But I suppose the point of this post is how England have gone from serial bottlers in tournaments to a team that we expect to "go deep" in each one, and get to at least the quarters, and have a chance of winning.
We shall see.
A decade ago this week, England lost 2-0 to Iceland in the 2016 European Championships, bringing the careers of Frank Lampard Jr. and Stevie Gerrard to an end.
It was a dreadful defeat. Not beacuse that performance was bad, but coming after two decades of underperforming by England sides since the Euros held in England in 1996.
That's so long ago, those championships marked the point at which I returned from my posting in Germany to the sleepu hollow that was RAF Lyneham.
The term "golden generation" was coined after England beat Germany in Germany in 2001 by 5-1. It did seem the start of something different, coming after most of my lifetime when Germany would always beat England.
But it was England who won, became smug, while Germany realised something had to be done, and they rebuilt with youth.
Germany won the World Cup again in 2014. England did not.
These were my comments about England after the 2010 World Cup:
"And what a let down, England were even worse than in previous games, and despite pulling a goal back before half time, and having a perfectly good goal disallowed, they were a very poor second to a cool and efficient German team, that now goes on the meet Argentine in the quarter-finals. This is a healthy dose of reality for most England fans, brought up on the belief that England has always been the ebst as well as inventing the game.
But years or under-investment in youth, and over reliance on expensive imports have meant a darth of talent in the Premier League, and this day had been coming a long time, that most hadn’t seen it coming is a sad indightment on the FA and Premier League.
Many of the so-called world’s best, or Golden Generation have had their international careers brought to an inglorious end, and rightly so. Failure of the basics like how to control the ball with one touch or be able to pass to each other being worse offences than tactics or who should or shouldn’t have played.
That there are no real replacements in the pipeline means that the day when England might challenge for the World Cup is maybe a generation away, and only then if there is a sea change in attitudes, which lets be honest, isn’t going to happen any day soon."
And in 2014:
"Nothing has changed, and nothing will change, we will stumble into the major competition every two years, hoping against hope that this time it will be different, but it never is. So, until football admits to itself that there is something wrong, and the FA actually does something about it, it will not change. I was so angry after South Africa, and yet, the FA did nothing. And so this time round, I’m not angry, just disappointed that four wasted years, no real change has happened, nor has any change been put into motion.
The likes of “Super” Frank and Stevie “G” will now being closing their international careers, each two years there has been nothing but optimism followed by failure. The players say they are sorry for letting the fans down, let the FA say something similar, saying how sorry they are at the failure of getting out of the group stages for the first time since 1958.
So, while the rest of the world celebrates and looks forward to the next stage of the competition, England’s layers will be either on the beach soaking u the rays, or getting ready for pre-season. The really sad thing is eight weeks from now, the league season will be under way, and all this failure at international level will be forgotten, and the media will be telling us how great the Premier League is. And nothing will change.
Quite how English football has sunk so low, and we are so happy for it to be this way is a tale of money, money and more money. And how the incompetent FA allowed the Premier League to be set up, and failed to put in controls and so the league bloated and became the foremost football organisation in the country, and the success of the national team is of no concern to the PL, just how the billions keep rolling in from TV companies from around the world.
Eight years ago, Germany were horrified by only reaching the quarter finals, and so reorganised the game in their country, and four years later, a youthful German team took England apart en route to the semi finals. Oh, if only the FA would take such actions after this shocker, but things will not change, the same players for the most part, will be laying the same tactics and we will endure failure once again in Russia in 2018.
It is, after all, just a game, and gives us something to talk and moan about, those 52 year of hurt."
And after that defeat by Iceland:
"England lost last night to Iceland in the knock out phase of the Euros. England were dreadful, I mean really bad, and yet I found myself wanting Iceland to score a third as it would make it worse. England did not register a good chance on target the whole game, and conceded thanks to two goals that would embarrass a park team. The manager resigned, but there is no one really to replace him, because as I have pointed out, those that have gone before from Kevin Keegan to Sven to Steve McLaren to Capello and now to Roy have achieved about the same results. The only common factor is the players.
Not good enough."
In the summer of 2016, Sam Allardyce was appointed as manager. It seemed to sum up Englash football, Mike Bassett: England Manager made real. Truth is Allardyce was a better manager than he was given credit for. I think he was the highest profile England manager/coach at the time, and after "safe" Sven-Göran Eriksson, overpaid Fabio Capello, and Roy Hodgson, who else was there?
We were to find out when Allardyce was sacked: "The 2016 English football scandal was a sports corruption scandal which began on 26 September 2016 following the publishing of the first part of the Daily Telegraph newspaper's "Football for Sale" investigation into corruption in English football.[1] It resulted in the resignation of England national football team manager Sam Allardyce after only one game in charge, as well as the sacking or suspension of numerous English Football League club staff, including Barnsley assistant manager Tommy Wright."
England Under 21 coach, Gareth Southgate, was appointed, someone who had no fear in promoting those players from the U21 side to full internationals. In his first tournament as Manager, England made the semi-finals, losing to Croatia. In the delayed 2020 Euros, England made it to the final, losing to Italy, after taking the lead early on in the final. in 2022, England lost to France in the quarters, but until then performed well. Harry Kane scored on penalty, but missed a second one later on. And it was Kane who perhaps symbolises the England team reborn.
Kane is now one of the best players on the planet, has set scoring records at Tottenham, Bayern and also for England, where is is England's all time leading scorer. Supporting him is a cornucopia of other youthful players, as English teams, and English players who developed around Europe all matured into excellent players.
If Southgate had a faul, then it was to be timmid when boldness might have won England a tournament, the 2020 Euros being a case in point. Leading early on, England had Italy on the ropes, yet didn't push their advantage, and allowed Italy back into the game.
Although England have not played too well under Thomas Tuchel, who was appointed to lead the national side for 18 months until the end of this World Cup, performances alone do not win tournaments, it's all about winning, and sometimes grinding out results. Maybe England won't win the World Cup this time either, but now that we have reached the knockout phases, we shall see. Tuchel knows how he wants the team to play, and the role each player has in that potantial victory.
But I suppose the point of this post is how England have gone from serial bottlers in tournaments to a team that we expect to "go deep" in each one, and get to at least the quarters, and have a chance of winning.
We shall see.
Saturday, 27 June 2026
Friday 26th June 2026
For the forth day in a row, the all time June temperature record was broken.
And it was to be the hottest day of the year in St Maggies.
Sleep is a luxury money can't buy right now, with the heat rising to the bedrooms, maybe we should just sleep on the sofa?
Up at four, or just gone. Hot enough to have the duvet pulled up, just in time for the sun rising and warm sunlight battering on the curtains.
Are we ready for this?
Probably not.
At least nothing of much import to be done, other than put the bins out, make coffee and try to stay warm.
Too hot for yoga too, so we could have a lay in, but our brains and the temperature had us up and about for five, feeding the cats and making coffee.
After putting the bins out, I retire to inside the house to keep cool. Listen to pods and write. I am behind on editing and posting pictures on Flickr, so I get busy.
It keeps me off the streets.
It was too hot to sit on the patio, at least until after midday and the shade from the parasol covered the seats.
So at about one I go to sit outside, and about half an hour later, a cool breeze sprung up, making it rather pleasant.
But there was family cards planned at Jen's. Jen's living room has a sunroof thing, and at this time, sun shines right through it onto whoever was sitting on one side of the table, which would this day be me.
So I wore my sun safari hat to keep the worse of the heat off my head. And the only cold drink available was cider, so supped sider, though not the strong stuff Jools likes.
Sylv is going back to Bury with Jen on Sunday, so one last cards afternoon. Mike came round again, though his foot isn't broken, just bruised, and he can drive again. John also turned up, so we had a six handed game, which we never finished as both Mike and John had to go at half five.
While I do the music quiz, Jools goes to collect a Chinese banquet for three, but still is too much for four.
We eat well, but there was enough left over for another meal for Jools and I over the weekend.
Back home to feed the cats, write, and be ready for the football at eight: France v Norway. But as Norway had their starting eleven swapped for replacements, France ripped through them, and were 2-0 up in fifteen minutes and ran out 4-1 winners.
And it was to be the hottest day of the year in St Maggies.
Sleep is a luxury money can't buy right now, with the heat rising to the bedrooms, maybe we should just sleep on the sofa?
Up at four, or just gone. Hot enough to have the duvet pulled up, just in time for the sun rising and warm sunlight battering on the curtains.
Are we ready for this?
Probably not.
At least nothing of much import to be done, other than put the bins out, make coffee and try to stay warm.
Too hot for yoga too, so we could have a lay in, but our brains and the temperature had us up and about for five, feeding the cats and making coffee.
After putting the bins out, I retire to inside the house to keep cool. Listen to pods and write. I am behind on editing and posting pictures on Flickr, so I get busy.It keeps me off the streets.
It was too hot to sit on the patio, at least until after midday and the shade from the parasol covered the seats.
So at about one I go to sit outside, and about half an hour later, a cool breeze sprung up, making it rather pleasant.
But there was family cards planned at Jen's. Jen's living room has a sunroof thing, and at this time, sun shines right through it onto whoever was sitting on one side of the table, which would this day be me.
So I wore my sun safari hat to keep the worse of the heat off my head. And the only cold drink available was cider, so supped sider, though not the strong stuff Jools likes.Sylv is going back to Bury with Jen on Sunday, so one last cards afternoon. Mike came round again, though his foot isn't broken, just bruised, and he can drive again. John also turned up, so we had a six handed game, which we never finished as both Mike and John had to go at half five.
While I do the music quiz, Jools goes to collect a Chinese banquet for three, but still is too much for four.
We eat well, but there was enough left over for another meal for Jools and I over the weekend.
Back home to feed the cats, write, and be ready for the football at eight: France v Norway. But as Norway had their starting eleven swapped for replacements, France ripped through them, and were 2-0 up in fifteen minutes and ran out 4-1 winners.
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