This was The Beatles' fourth album in just 21 months.
On top of recording, the band had played concerts in UK, the US, Europe, Australia, as well as made a film, done promotion for that.
So, it isn't a surprise to find that the band were a little tired by the end of August 1964 when they entered the studio. They had also met Bob Dylan that summer whilst in the US, and it was a meeting of minds, which caused the direction of both acts to change.
Probably, being tired meant The Beatles were a little downbeat, which resulted in most tracks not being positive about love, if about love at all. Also, there were several cover versions, a change from A Hard Day's Night.
The cover was different too. In colour, but all four looking morose or pensive.
Through all this, it sold buckets at home.
Side 1:
1. "No Reply"
2. "I'm a Loser"
3. "Baby's in Black"
4. "Rock and Roll Music"
5. "I'll Follow the Sun"
6. "Mr. Moonlight"
7. "Kansas City/Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey!"
Side 2:
1. "Eight Days a Week"
2. "Words of Love"
3. "Honey Don't"
4. "Every Little Thing"
5. "I Don't Want to Spoil the Party"
6. "What You're Doing"
7. "Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby"
Side 1 kicks of continuing the stratospheric direct the second side of A Hard Day's Night ended, with a powerful, dare I say adult, "No Reply". A song of three tempos, building through the verse, then choris and a third part louder and faster still, before ending how it started. Glorious melodies and heartflet lyrics, with an edge of anger at being wronged.
"I'm a Loser" follows, and I mean this seriously, these two tracks and most of side 2 of the previous record could and should have been singles. And would have been hits. Harmonica heavy, but in a good way. A tale of yet more lost love. Glorious harmonies and guitar lead beat. Glorious once again.
And so it continues with "Baby's in Black". Wonderful Lennon and McCarney harmonies, Harrisons fabulous twangy guitar, foretelly Cosmic American Music perhaps, but glides along in waltz-time, rounding off a trio of originals, as good as anything they had done previously.
"Rock and Roll Music" is the Chuck Berry composed track, and the Beatles go for it 100%. A fuller sound than on the covers on the first two records, and Lennon's vocal almost coming apart in places. Its driven by a Little Richard style piono, banging away behind the beat. Just wonderful again.
Back with Lennon and McCartney on "I'll Follow the Sun", a mid-tempo song, simple with a haunting vocal from Paul. There is nothing not to like here, the outro features Harrions Gretch again, sparingly used. The sound of sitting on a sundrenched terrace on a hot evening in Southern Europe. Or something.
"Mr. Moonlight" is a cover of a Roy Lee Johnson song, and like "Rock and Roll Music", despite being a cover the band make it feel and sound like an original. There is organ in the background, and in the instrumental part, some new kind of percussion. A heady mix indeed, and also good.
Side one ends with the rocking "Kansas City/Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey!" , and other cover. Paul sings, but towards the end, there's Lennon backing vocals on the "hey hey" parts, and it all rolls with quite the swagger. I was concerned when I saw all the covers listed, but these are majestic indeed.
"Eight Days a Week" is perhaps the best known song on the album, and I thought it would rest on this track. And yet, its not the best track on the record. And yet, as I wrote that last line, the track ended with guitar chors that sent shivers up and down my spine. A whole track should have been built around those chords, yet they were just used to close the song. Amazing.
The Beatles loved Buddy Holly. They chose their name in homage to his backing band, The Crickets. It might have been better to cover one of the more uptempo tracks of Holly's, but they chose this, with a Holly-esque twanging guitar back the harmonised vocals all the way through.
Ringo doesn't have a bad voice. On "Honey Don't" , a cover of a track by Carl Perkins, he certainly carries the tune well. But imagine being the 4th best singer in the band, even if that band was The Beatles? Hard.
"Every Little Thing" is another ennon and McCartney original. Even if I did want to add "is magic". I think what could be described as a typical Beatles tune from this period. Not bad, better than almost any group at the time could do, but not top drawer Beatle tuneage.
Maybe its because side 1 spoiled us, but "I Don't Want to Spoil the Party" is a little bit Beatle average again. A Lennon McCartney original, with both on vocals, it rips aling, with a tawangy geetar helping, but its meerly OK, or good.
"What You're Doing" opens with a guitar sound that was to be echoed in "We Can Work it Out", it's the last original on the record, ad holds together better that the two that came before it on side 2. I mean, they're making this all seem to easy and effortless.
The album closes with another Carl Perkins number, "Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby" , which again is fine. OK. If I'm honest, its now just the originals I want to hear, not the covers, as they're more interesting in seeing their devellopment. But as the band had been working so hard for two years, that they found time to write and record such an album between tours and other commitments, is remarkable.
I just want to get to "Help!" and "Revolver" now.
Tuesday, 31 March 2026
Sunday 29th March 2026
Sunday.
And although there was great temptation to skip the gym, something my knees were quite keen on, I set the alarm for six.
I say set the alarm for six, but because of the start of Summer Time, it was really five, so I woke bleary eyed, and went down to feed the cats and make drinks.
Makes a change for me to do it.
We left at ten to seven, arriving just after the doors were opened, and there was perhaps just a dozen cars in the car park, and upstairs in the gym, just two others getting ready to do phys.
The sun had just risen, and we were greeted by a fine, bright sunrise as we walked to the entrance.
I listen to Harry Hill interviewing Dr John Cooper Clark, and it was funny, but Hill does try a tad too hard to be whacky. Its enjoyable though, and made time fly by, so that I was done at ten to eight.
We go home via the petrol station. I fill up lest the prices go up any higher, and get some milk for brews.
Back home for half eight, on with the kettle for brews and breakfast.
The day stretched out before us like a long stretchy thing. Normally we would have gone orchiding. But I had bought a shoulder of lamb, invited Jen for lunch. So there was much preparation to do. A little prep to do.
And have a shave and shower.
Potatoes were peeled, Yorkshire pudding batter mixed and put in the fridge. Meat was seasoned and left to warm t room temperature.
I begin cooking at just gone midday, and an hour later Jools goes to pick up Jen, so to be here when dinner was ready.
I had bought a bag of spring greens, though had never cooked them before. Recipes seemed to suggest wilting the shredded leaves in butter for five minutes. Which I did, but wasn't impressed by the results.
The rest was a triumph, it goes without saying. And we sat down at two for a feast. And wine.
And best of all, Jools and Jen wash up, while I try to stay awake on the sofa. Sadly, there was no football. At all.
Jen left, and looking at our watches we see if was quarter past five, and yet the cats slept on. I woke Scully an hour later for her dinner and test her bloods.
By which point it was half six.
Later there was #WildflowerHour, blogs to write, photos to post and the suchlike, before bed at nine.
It was dark.
And although there was great temptation to skip the gym, something my knees were quite keen on, I set the alarm for six.
I say set the alarm for six, but because of the start of Summer Time, it was really five, so I woke bleary eyed, and went down to feed the cats and make drinks.
Makes a change for me to do it.
We left at ten to seven, arriving just after the doors were opened, and there was perhaps just a dozen cars in the car park, and upstairs in the gym, just two others getting ready to do phys.
The sun had just risen, and we were greeted by a fine, bright sunrise as we walked to the entrance.I listen to Harry Hill interviewing Dr John Cooper Clark, and it was funny, but Hill does try a tad too hard to be whacky. Its enjoyable though, and made time fly by, so that I was done at ten to eight.
We go home via the petrol station. I fill up lest the prices go up any higher, and get some milk for brews.
Back home for half eight, on with the kettle for brews and breakfast.
The day stretched out before us like a long stretchy thing. Normally we would have gone orchiding. But I had bought a shoulder of lamb, invited Jen for lunch. So there was much preparation to do. A little prep to do.
And have a shave and shower.
Potatoes were peeled, Yorkshire pudding batter mixed and put in the fridge. Meat was seasoned and left to warm t room temperature.
I begin cooking at just gone midday, and an hour later Jools goes to pick up Jen, so to be here when dinner was ready.
I had bought a bag of spring greens, though had never cooked them before. Recipes seemed to suggest wilting the shredded leaves in butter for five minutes. Which I did, but wasn't impressed by the results.
The rest was a triumph, it goes without saying. And we sat down at two for a feast. And wine.
And best of all, Jools and Jen wash up, while I try to stay awake on the sofa. Sadly, there was no football. At all.
Jen left, and looking at our watches we see if was quarter past five, and yet the cats slept on. I woke Scully an hour later for her dinner and test her bloods.
By which point it was half six.
Later there was #WildflowerHour, blogs to write, photos to post and the suchlike, before bed at nine.
It was dark.
Sunday, 29 March 2026
Saturday 28th March 2026
Time then, for a road trip.
And the weather was to be bright, sunny and fairly warm. Until the early afternoon, where at our destination, there was a chance of showers.
Chance.
Showers.
With 150 miles to drive, it was up at five, feed the cats and make coffee. Check on traffic and the weather. Again.
Before setting off at ten past six.
First stop was Tesco to top up the tank, which thanks to the Orange Man Baby costs now £1.50 a litre and will only go higher.
Back onto the A2 to cruise up to the bottom of the motorway, then into Faversham, to pick up my old friend, Andy, as he was to be my travel buddy.
I had to wait a while for him to be ready, I was fifteen minutes early, after all.
Then he jumped in, and we turned onto to the motorway to head north.
Traffic light going north, but busier going south towards Dover. We'll worry about that in the afternoon when we come back.
But for now we were making good time to Gravesend, then onto the M25 and down into the Dartford Tunnel under the river and into the badlands of south Essex.
We had loads of time, so cruise round to the M11 turn off, then round the cloverleaf and back north towards Stanstead.
Amazing how light traffic was, and was lighter once we passed the airport and motored into Cambridgeshire then onto Newmarket and so into Suffolk.
We stopped for breakfast at the services on the A14: sausage rolls and a brew at Greggs.
We had half an hour to go to our destination, and nearly three hours to kill.
So, what to do?
I had mentioned the viewing area at RAF Lakenheath, so we turned north to Barton Mills, then on the Brandon road until we came to the USAF base, which is a little bit of the US in Suffolk.
It seems the fence has been upgraded, and I'm pretty sure there was numberplate recognition cameras around, but we were just going to see if there were any planes to see.
Once we arrived at the viewing point, there were dozens of cars already there, most people had cameras with huge lenses and stepladders so to see further, though still through the fence.
A large military vehicle kept watch on the small crowd. We parked up and wandered about. Some had air band scanners, but the lack of action meant we quickly got bored, so we went back to the car and drove to a nearby village to see what there was to see.
Mildenhall is a large market village, with old houses and a huge parish church.
After driving round the small one-way system one and a half times, we parked in Sainsbury's, where we had two hours free parking.
Andy has his targets, and me mine. So we would meet back at the car at twenty past ten, I strode off towards the church, only to find it didn't open until ten.
So, I walked round the village, took some shots, just to fill the time.
There are plenty of small shops and takeaways, though few customers at half nine even on a Saturday morning, but clearly enough trade to keep them in business.
The modern arcade near the bus station is bland to say the least, but again most units had tenants, and there were a few folks around.
I walked back to the church at five to ten, met up with Andy outside, and so we both found the door to the large porch open.
A warden was inside, though friendly enough, didn't like my suggestion I could walk into the sanctuary of the south chapel to photograph the large memorial on the south wall.
It was a bit frosty after that, though no amount of frost could cool my love of the roofs of the Nave and two Aisles. Carved with angels in the Nave, and hammerbeams with carved figures in each aisle. All wonderful work. I wish I had the big lens, but this would have to do.
We had forty minutes before we had to be at Barham, so we walked back tot he car, used the facilities, and drove the twenty minutes over the other side of the A11, up the dead end part of the old road, through Elvington, now returned to tranquillity now the traffic passes by a field away, before turning right over the fields past flocks of black fleece sheep to the old base, now a small industrial estate with businesses having taken over the old military buildings.
We were here for a guided tour, along with about twenty others from around the country. So we checked in, and Andy went to climb the watch tower. Having climbed them in my youth in the RAF, I passed.
RAF Barnham was the maintenance unit where the UK's first generation of ballistic nuclear bombs were built and maintained.
Blue Danube, a 15 kiloton weapon, as some 7.3m long and weighed 10,000 pounds. Inside were the fissile material, and the accelerator that started the chain reaction after the core had been compressed by high explosives.
The accelerator had a short half-life, so had to be replaced, hence the need for third line maintenance here.
On the site are the prep buildings, storage buildings (hutches) for the cores, as well as messes, barracks, a fire station, MT depot and offices.
At eleven, the tour began. First with a potted history by the son of the couple who bought the site from the MOD in the sixties for twenty grand. To grow mushrooms.
That failed within three years, but parts of the site were leased out as storage and industrial units, and so the base was preserved.
Mostly.
The tour proper began, walking round the entire outside of the site in the end, and into a couple of the buildings, while more of the history was explained.
There are over 50 of the "hutches" where the fissile cores were stored, some have been preserved, many have not.
After about an hour, the sky darkened, and soon the wind picked up and we had to deal with hail and then heavy rain.
We tightened our coats, and the tour continued, as we explored the rest of the site, ending with the storage building for the complete weapons.
It was twenty to two. We were both hungry, and a search of the CAMRA website for a real ale pub took us 12 miles to Freckenham to the Golden Boar pub.
Only one other table was in use, so we had the pick of the remainder, and chose one beside the window which looked out onto a small courtyard.
Soon, two long-tailed tits came to the window, hung from the frame and looked in, each with beaks stuffed with feathers for their nest. Such cute bundles of joy.
The food, when it came was excellent. Burger for me, and hunter's chicken for Andy. Sadly, there was no ale on, and certainly no chance of there being Adnams, which CAMRA had promised us.
We ate our meals, Andy paid, then we returned to the car for the long drive home.
Back to the A11, then onto the motorway and into Essex.
Traffic was heavy, but not too bad. So I cruised at sixty, and while we talked, the car ate the miles up.
Onto the M25, gaps between junctions that took ages to bridge, passed in mere blinks of an eye.
Over the bridge and back into Kent. We turned down the A2, cruising again at sixty for the last thirty miles over the Medway and back to Faversham where I dropped Andy off on the old Roman Road/A2.
Just left me to get back to the A2, then drive back past Canterbury to Whitfield and home. Getting back at twenty to seven.
No dinner for me. But Jools had cheesy and onion rolls, though we both had brews, then a beer/cider as the last sunset of winter time played out away to the west.
I was pooped, so we went to bed just after eight, with no football, there was no distraction, and soon the Sandman took me from this world.
And the weather was to be bright, sunny and fairly warm. Until the early afternoon, where at our destination, there was a chance of showers.
Chance.
Showers.
With 150 miles to drive, it was up at five, feed the cats and make coffee. Check on traffic and the weather. Again.
Before setting off at ten past six.
First stop was Tesco to top up the tank, which thanks to the Orange Man Baby costs now £1.50 a litre and will only go higher.
Back onto the A2 to cruise up to the bottom of the motorway, then into Faversham, to pick up my old friend, Andy, as he was to be my travel buddy.
I had to wait a while for him to be ready, I was fifteen minutes early, after all.
Then he jumped in, and we turned onto to the motorway to head north.
Traffic light going north, but busier going south towards Dover. We'll worry about that in the afternoon when we come back.
But for now we were making good time to Gravesend, then onto the M25 and down into the Dartford Tunnel under the river and into the badlands of south Essex.
We had loads of time, so cruise round to the M11 turn off, then round the cloverleaf and back north towards Stanstead.
Amazing how light traffic was, and was lighter once we passed the airport and motored into Cambridgeshire then onto Newmarket and so into Suffolk.
We stopped for breakfast at the services on the A14: sausage rolls and a brew at Greggs.
We had half an hour to go to our destination, and nearly three hours to kill.
So, what to do?
I had mentioned the viewing area at RAF Lakenheath, so we turned north to Barton Mills, then on the Brandon road until we came to the USAF base, which is a little bit of the US in Suffolk.
It seems the fence has been upgraded, and I'm pretty sure there was numberplate recognition cameras around, but we were just going to see if there were any planes to see.
Once we arrived at the viewing point, there were dozens of cars already there, most people had cameras with huge lenses and stepladders so to see further, though still through the fence.
A large military vehicle kept watch on the small crowd. We parked up and wandered about. Some had air band scanners, but the lack of action meant we quickly got bored, so we went back to the car and drove to a nearby village to see what there was to see.
Mildenhall is a large market village, with old houses and a huge parish church.
After driving round the small one-way system one and a half times, we parked in Sainsbury's, where we had two hours free parking.
Andy has his targets, and me mine. So we would meet back at the car at twenty past ten, I strode off towards the church, only to find it didn't open until ten.
So, I walked round the village, took some shots, just to fill the time.
There are plenty of small shops and takeaways, though few customers at half nine even on a Saturday morning, but clearly enough trade to keep them in business.
The modern arcade near the bus station is bland to say the least, but again most units had tenants, and there were a few folks around.
I walked back to the church at five to ten, met up with Andy outside, and so we both found the door to the large porch open.
A warden was inside, though friendly enough, didn't like my suggestion I could walk into the sanctuary of the south chapel to photograph the large memorial on the south wall.
It was a bit frosty after that, though no amount of frost could cool my love of the roofs of the Nave and two Aisles. Carved with angels in the Nave, and hammerbeams with carved figures in each aisle. All wonderful work. I wish I had the big lens, but this would have to do.
We had forty minutes before we had to be at Barham, so we walked back tot he car, used the facilities, and drove the twenty minutes over the other side of the A11, up the dead end part of the old road, through Elvington, now returned to tranquillity now the traffic passes by a field away, before turning right over the fields past flocks of black fleece sheep to the old base, now a small industrial estate with businesses having taken over the old military buildings.
We were here for a guided tour, along with about twenty others from around the country. So we checked in, and Andy went to climb the watch tower. Having climbed them in my youth in the RAF, I passed.RAF Barnham was the maintenance unit where the UK's first generation of ballistic nuclear bombs were built and maintained.
Blue Danube, a 15 kiloton weapon, as some 7.3m long and weighed 10,000 pounds. Inside were the fissile material, and the accelerator that started the chain reaction after the core had been compressed by high explosives.
The accelerator had a short half-life, so had to be replaced, hence the need for third line maintenance here.
On the site are the prep buildings, storage buildings (hutches) for the cores, as well as messes, barracks, a fire station, MT depot and offices.
At eleven, the tour began. First with a potted history by the son of the couple who bought the site from the MOD in the sixties for twenty grand. To grow mushrooms.
That failed within three years, but parts of the site were leased out as storage and industrial units, and so the base was preserved.
Mostly.The tour proper began, walking round the entire outside of the site in the end, and into a couple of the buildings, while more of the history was explained.
There are over 50 of the "hutches" where the fissile cores were stored, some have been preserved, many have not. After about an hour, the sky darkened, and soon the wind picked up and we had to deal with hail and then heavy rain.
We tightened our coats, and the tour continued, as we explored the rest of the site, ending with the storage building for the complete weapons.
It was twenty to two. We were both hungry, and a search of the CAMRA website for a real ale pub took us 12 miles to Freckenham to the Golden Boar pub.
Only one other table was in use, so we had the pick of the remainder, and chose one beside the window which looked out onto a small courtyard.
Soon, two long-tailed tits came to the window, hung from the frame and looked in, each with beaks stuffed with feathers for their nest. Such cute bundles of joy.The food, when it came was excellent. Burger for me, and hunter's chicken for Andy. Sadly, there was no ale on, and certainly no chance of there being Adnams, which CAMRA had promised us.
We ate our meals, Andy paid, then we returned to the car for the long drive home.Back to the A11, then onto the motorway and into Essex.
Traffic was heavy, but not too bad. So I cruised at sixty, and while we talked, the car ate the miles up.
Onto the M25, gaps between junctions that took ages to bridge, passed in mere blinks of an eye.
Over the bridge and back into Kent. We turned down the A2, cruising again at sixty for the last thirty miles over the Medway and back to Faversham where I dropped Andy off on the old Roman Road/A2.
Just left me to get back to the A2, then drive back past Canterbury to Whitfield and home. Getting back at twenty to seven.
No dinner for me. But Jools had cheesy and onion rolls, though we both had brews, then a beer/cider as the last sunset of winter time played out away to the west.
I was pooped, so we went to bed just after eight, with no football, there was no distraction, and soon the Sandman took me from this world.
Friday 27th March 2026
It's nearly the weekend.
Although, as I'm sure you're tired of me saying, every day is the weekend now.
Which it is.
A few things now only anchor us to the calendar, one of which is bin day, which is Friday.
I sleep in to six, an d am up as Jools leaves for yoga, leaving me with a fresh cup of coffee, so I can see the morning in caffinated.
Bins are done. Feeders topped up, and then check on the madness in the world.
As soon as Jools get back, I take the car to go to Tesco for supplies, so not to have to do it later in the day or Saturday, when I was planned to be on a road trip.
Tesco was calm, a few schoolchildren were out buying cans of Monster and packs of crisps on their way to whatever the high school is calling itself this year. I lost track a few years back.
Then back home so Jools could take her small posse of ladies to the library for craft and chat.
Phew.
I put the shopping away, and ponder what to do with the day. I don't do much as its chilly outside, so only go out to snap the Cowlips now they're fully open, and that would have to do for the shot of the day.
As the afternoon was spent watching Alien Earth, or three episodes of it, and it still makes little sense, but it looks fabulous if nothing else.
After dinner there is the music quiz: I come tenth, so get just the one point for the whole month, before I waste two hours watching England play Uruguay, which ends in a dour 1-1 draw.
No refunds available.
Although, as I'm sure you're tired of me saying, every day is the weekend now.
Which it is.
A few things now only anchor us to the calendar, one of which is bin day, which is Friday.
I sleep in to six, an d am up as Jools leaves for yoga, leaving me with a fresh cup of coffee, so I can see the morning in caffinated.
Bins are done. Feeders topped up, and then check on the madness in the world.
As soon as Jools get back, I take the car to go to Tesco for supplies, so not to have to do it later in the day or Saturday, when I was planned to be on a road trip.
Tesco was calm, a few schoolchildren were out buying cans of Monster and packs of crisps on their way to whatever the high school is calling itself this year. I lost track a few years back.Then back home so Jools could take her small posse of ladies to the library for craft and chat.
Phew.
I put the shopping away, and ponder what to do with the day. I don't do much as its chilly outside, so only go out to snap the Cowlips now they're fully open, and that would have to do for the shot of the day.
As the afternoon was spent watching Alien Earth, or three episodes of it, and it still makes little sense, but it looks fabulous if nothing else.
After dinner there is the music quiz: I come tenth, so get just the one point for the whole month, before I waste two hours watching England play Uruguay, which ends in a dour 1-1 draw.
No refunds available.
Friday, 27 March 2026
Thursday 26th March 2026
Its Thursday.
Yay.
That means up early so we can leave home to be at the gym for six.
Or just past.
It is now getting light at quarter past five, with the sun rising at quarter to six.
Odd for it to be daylight when we hit the road, be daylight and there be no traffic.
The car park was packed already. Some kind of swimming practice as there is a gala at the weekend. Lots of cars disgorging bleary eyed children and a parent.
We go in and take our favoured machines. I select The Bugle podcast to listen to, power on the headphones, and am away.
Not much else to say, other than I got hot and bothered, thought about bailing at half an hour, but powered through to the forty minutes.
Jools was going out, as the car needed new brake pads and shoes. Or something. So, while the car was in the shop, she would walk up Combe Valley Road to visit her sister for a catch up.
I stayed home to watch the place, have a shave and shower, then faff around the rest of the morning.
Outside it was a bright, but chilly breezy kind of day, though I did don my jumper and crocks and go for a short walk to look at some wild flowers, but the tidy brigade had mown the verges all the way up Station Road, and colonies of Red deadnettle, Shepherd's Purse among others, are history.
Sigh.
Can we not just have a little nature?
Please?
Back home I have a warming brew and wait for Jools to come back so we could have lunch.
The afternoon was spent watching the first episode of Alien Earth, as we now have access to Disney Plus. I had high hopes.
I had a beer delivery!
Yay.
So, as we now have two fridges, all are now chilling, ready for drinking.
But, part of the visuals and characterisations were lifted from Bladerunner. I mean if you're going to nick ideas, at least steal the best ones, right?
It looks amazing, but the plot is all over the place. Maybe it settles down.
(Readers: it does not settle down)
And so into the evening, with clear skies come chilly nights, so we put on a jumper, and I settle down to watch Wales v Bosnia on the World Cup Qualifiers. I was tired. It went to extra time. Then penalties.
I went to bed before the spot kicks, and Wales lost.
Always next time.
Yay.
That means up early so we can leave home to be at the gym for six.
Or just past.
It is now getting light at quarter past five, with the sun rising at quarter to six.
Odd for it to be daylight when we hit the road, be daylight and there be no traffic.
The car park was packed already. Some kind of swimming practice as there is a gala at the weekend. Lots of cars disgorging bleary eyed children and a parent.
We go in and take our favoured machines. I select The Bugle podcast to listen to, power on the headphones, and am away.
Not much else to say, other than I got hot and bothered, thought about bailing at half an hour, but powered through to the forty minutes.Jools was going out, as the car needed new brake pads and shoes. Or something. So, while the car was in the shop, she would walk up Combe Valley Road to visit her sister for a catch up.
I stayed home to watch the place, have a shave and shower, then faff around the rest of the morning.Outside it was a bright, but chilly breezy kind of day, though I did don my jumper and crocks and go for a short walk to look at some wild flowers, but the tidy brigade had mown the verges all the way up Station Road, and colonies of Red deadnettle, Shepherd's Purse among others, are history.
Sigh.Can we not just have a little nature?
Please?
Back home I have a warming brew and wait for Jools to come back so we could have lunch.
The afternoon was spent watching the first episode of Alien Earth, as we now have access to Disney Plus. I had high hopes.
I had a beer delivery!Yay.
So, as we now have two fridges, all are now chilling, ready for drinking.
But, part of the visuals and characterisations were lifted from Bladerunner. I mean if you're going to nick ideas, at least steal the best ones, right?
It looks amazing, but the plot is all over the place. Maybe it settles down.(Readers: it does not settle down)
And so into the evening, with clear skies come chilly nights, so we put on a jumper, and I settle down to watch Wales v Bosnia on the World Cup Qualifiers. I was tired. It went to extra time. Then penalties.
I went to bed before the spot kicks, and Wales lost.
Always next time.
Thursday, 26 March 2026
Wednesday 25th March 2026
Wednesday. Again.
No phys.
A lay in.
And for a change my brain and body let me lay in to quarter past six, and hearing no sounds in the house assumed Jools had gone swimming.
But there was a cough, so Jools was there, and had bailed on the swimming and wanted a slow morning instead.
She did have a class later, but that was half nine, so we could laze around, drinking coffee and having breakfast.
I went upstairs to take a shot of the sofa in the bathroom, only to find Cleo asleep, so managed to rattle off a couple of shots before she ran out.
Another fine, if cool day, with wind building through the day as temperatures dropped.
Nice.
I mentioned it was going to be a quiet day, but then Jools reminded me that there was churchcrawling in the afternoon.
Oh yeah.
So, Jools went into town for her class, while I stayed home, did chores, messed around in the garden, topping up the ponds and checking for spawn.
It was just warm enough to sit in on the patio underneath the kitchen window, where both Mulder and Scully sat close or on me, just to show they car. Care where their next meal was coming from.
Jools returned home with sticky buns for lunch, which we wolfed down with a brew.
And then it was time to go out.
Once upon a time, Deal and Walmer were once considered dens of iniquity in the middle of the 19th century, though as Bradshaw notes Deal was becoming genteel with bathing available, along with large villas looking onto the coast.
These days, Deal and Walmer are among the most Godly town in Kent, with new churches and chapels found by me most years. St Mary Old Church is indeed old, sits about a mile from the coast in what is now called Upper Walmer. Later in the 19th century, it was considered too small for the congregation, so St Mary New Church was bult the other side of the Dover Road.
Another reason for visiting St Mary Old Church is that it the only place in the country where the funerary hatchment of the First Duke of Wellington, who saw out his days as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, residing at Walmer Castle, until he died.
I had arranged for the church to be open at two, so I arrived at half one, looked around and took shots, before going to wait at the lych gate for the group and warden to arrive.
Two members of the group arrived, then a third after she found her way from the wrong church, but there was no warden.
The promised heavy rain shower arrived, and so we sheltered under the lych gate. The wind picked up and it went from chilly to downright cold.
We gave it to quarter past two, then we agreed to go home before we froze.
I drove back home, where upon return, cooked dinner of fishcakes and stir fry with noodles, which was rather good.
And that was it for the day. No football again, so to bead early to read and get snoozy.
No phys.
A lay in.
And for a change my brain and body let me lay in to quarter past six, and hearing no sounds in the house assumed Jools had gone swimming.
But there was a cough, so Jools was there, and had bailed on the swimming and wanted a slow morning instead.She did have a class later, but that was half nine, so we could laze around, drinking coffee and having breakfast.
I went upstairs to take a shot of the sofa in the bathroom, only to find Cleo asleep, so managed to rattle off a couple of shots before she ran out.
Another fine, if cool day, with wind building through the day as temperatures dropped.Nice.
I mentioned it was going to be a quiet day, but then Jools reminded me that there was churchcrawling in the afternoon.
Oh yeah.
So, Jools went into town for her class, while I stayed home, did chores, messed around in the garden, topping up the ponds and checking for spawn.
It was just warm enough to sit in on the patio underneath the kitchen window, where both Mulder and Scully sat close or on me, just to show they car. Care where their next meal was coming from.
Jools returned home with sticky buns for lunch, which we wolfed down with a brew.And then it was time to go out.
Once upon a time, Deal and Walmer were once considered dens of iniquity in the middle of the 19th century, though as Bradshaw notes Deal was becoming genteel with bathing available, along with large villas looking onto the coast.
These days, Deal and Walmer are among the most Godly town in Kent, with new churches and chapels found by me most years. St Mary Old Church is indeed old, sits about a mile from the coast in what is now called Upper Walmer. Later in the 19th century, it was considered too small for the congregation, so St Mary New Church was bult the other side of the Dover Road.
Another reason for visiting St Mary Old Church is that it the only place in the country where the funerary hatchment of the First Duke of Wellington, who saw out his days as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, residing at Walmer Castle, until he died.
I had arranged for the church to be open at two, so I arrived at half one, looked around and took shots, before going to wait at the lych gate for the group and warden to arrive.
Two members of the group arrived, then a third after she found her way from the wrong church, but there was no warden.
The promised heavy rain shower arrived, and so we sheltered under the lych gate. The wind picked up and it went from chilly to downright cold.
We gave it to quarter past two, then we agreed to go home before we froze.I drove back home, where upon return, cooked dinner of fishcakes and stir fry with noodles, which was rather good.
And that was it for the day. No football again, so to bead early to read and get snoozy.
Tuesday 24th March 2026
You know the drill by now.
Being a Tuesday, it's off to the gym on my own first thing, leaving home at ten to six, so to arrive at six when the doors open. Up to the studio, on the bike and listen to the latest Word in Your Ear podcast while I peddle.
I was done by ten to seven, so nip to Tesco for a few things, and a few things we didn't need, and stuff we needed but I forgot.
Anyway, enough supplies to the end of the week, and back home at twenty past seven, where there was a fresh brew waiting.
Jools was out for several hours, so she left at twenty to eight, and I am left with more stuff to sort out, including a big box of family photos that were mostly doubles, triples.
Even with already having copies in albums, it feels wrong to throw pictures out that have been kept in some cases for 90 years or more. But with no one to leave them to, and I doubt if I will look at the albums more than once a year, if that, why not just clear them away.
So, a large box with the photographs, and five years of WSC as the drawer beside the bed where I keep them is now full. I don't read copies other than the season previews more than once, so out they go too.
The other task is to bottle the sloe port.
Sloe port is what you can make once the sloe gin is decanted, refilling the container with a mix of 75% red wine/25% fortified wine, plus some sugar.
This produces a wonderful drink, and is very pleasant straight from bottling.
So I get busy, and do it in about an hour, and for a change, make no mess with split port. I save a glass for us to try once Jools is back, then clean the demijohns and jugs, and pack stuff away.
Jools has found my stamp collection. Mostly collected by my Dad when I was a baby and toddler. It is a joy to see the bold stamp designs for the swinging 60s in Britain, and from around Europe and the world. I even find some stamps with orchids on!
Missing is the pre-war German stamps from the 1920s, which Mum insisted I return to her. Which I did, and so when she passed, they ended up as landfill. Not that they were that valuable, but of historic interest, as many had been double printed with new values as hyper-inflation took hold.
We have pie, roast potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy for lunch-cum-dinner, along with a bottle of fizz!
And normally we would be done for the day. Except we had a chaise longues delivered for a place for reading in the bright bathroom.
It was delivered as we were having dinner, so once we were rested, we unbox it, and transport the bits upstairs.
It has just seven parts, and four of those are the short legs. And it went together OK, but was awkward, but after half an hour was done. Mostly.
I'll post shots tomorrow.
With no football on TV, I read an old music magazine in bed before turning in at half eight.
Pooped again.
Being a Tuesday, it's off to the gym on my own first thing, leaving home at ten to six, so to arrive at six when the doors open. Up to the studio, on the bike and listen to the latest Word in Your Ear podcast while I peddle.
I was done by ten to seven, so nip to Tesco for a few things, and a few things we didn't need, and stuff we needed but I forgot.
Anyway, enough supplies to the end of the week, and back home at twenty past seven, where there was a fresh brew waiting.
Jools was out for several hours, so she left at twenty to eight, and I am left with more stuff to sort out, including a big box of family photos that were mostly doubles, triples.
Even with already having copies in albums, it feels wrong to throw pictures out that have been kept in some cases for 90 years or more. But with no one to leave them to, and I doubt if I will look at the albums more than once a year, if that, why not just clear them away.
So, a large box with the photographs, and five years of WSC as the drawer beside the bed where I keep them is now full. I don't read copies other than the season previews more than once, so out they go too.
The other task is to bottle the sloe port.
Sloe port is what you can make once the sloe gin is decanted, refilling the container with a mix of 75% red wine/25% fortified wine, plus some sugar.
This produces a wonderful drink, and is very pleasant straight from bottling.So I get busy, and do it in about an hour, and for a change, make no mess with split port. I save a glass for us to try once Jools is back, then clean the demijohns and jugs, and pack stuff away.
Jools has found my stamp collection. Mostly collected by my Dad when I was a baby and toddler. It is a joy to see the bold stamp designs for the swinging 60s in Britain, and from around Europe and the world. I even find some stamps with orchids on!
Missing is the pre-war German stamps from the 1920s, which Mum insisted I return to her. Which I did, and so when she passed, they ended up as landfill. Not that they were that valuable, but of historic interest, as many had been double printed with new values as hyper-inflation took hold.
We have pie, roast potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy for lunch-cum-dinner, along with a bottle of fizz!And normally we would be done for the day. Except we had a chaise longues delivered for a place for reading in the bright bathroom.
It was delivered as we were having dinner, so once we were rested, we unbox it, and transport the bits upstairs.
It has just seven parts, and four of those are the short legs. And it went together OK, but was awkward, but after half an hour was done. Mostly.
I'll post shots tomorrow.
With no football on TV, I read an old music magazine in bed before turning in at half eight.
Pooped again.
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