Friday 29th September 2017

And all of a sudden I come to the end of the working week, and when I am to take a break from work as I am off to Norfolk/Suffolk on Sunday to be with Mum when she has her operation and then stay around for her recuperation. I am concerned to make sure that I am not just up to date at work, but ahead, and every one knows what the situation is and am happy with the situation, which explains why my day was full of meetings and editing documents. Everyone is very concerned with me and my Mother, and if you are, let me tell you that I am fine, and Mum is in the best place, being looked after as well as anyone can be. Once I am up staying at hers tomorrow, and then traveling to the hospital day after day, maybe I will feel different.

Until then there are loose ends to tie up, people to inform, and make sure that tasks get taken care of. And there are working hours to log, to make sure the project gets paid, and I don't lose my job, which I think is quite important.

It is a fine day, though with cloud expected in the afternoon, by the time work is done there won't be much light to go out walking. Light because photography of course, and anyway, it seems the day slips away from me, and with the wireless on, it seems that I am focussed on cooking and music and larking about.

But before then there is work, typing up more notes, chairing meetings, making phone calls, all round ensuring that lessons are learned and we get better. What an all round good egg I am.

Once Jools is home, we sit on the patio eating ice cream, because ice cream. And then drinking coffee. Because it am the weekend, and there won't be many more afternoons we can do this. Instead of fish and chips, we are having cheesy beans on toast for dinner, mainly because we have a two month old block of cheddar that English Heritage want to list, so I scrape of the interesting mould off the side, slice it and add it to the second side of toast before adding beans and freshly ground pepper. This is a well known dish in Rome, but the addition of freshly milled pepper to tinned beans is essential.

Once darkness falls, there is time for a shower before TOTP from 1984; all Flock of Seagulls, but not that one. Or that one, but their rubbish last hit when Mike Score had a long flowing mullet. Proper rubbish. And there was George Michael, Howard Jones, Iron Maiden, Black Lace. All the fun of the charts in the mid 80s, really.

And then there was Mastermind, Only Connect and Monty. Jools was asleep by this point, but hey. And it is the weekend.

Further update

I know in the last week or so I have done separate postings regarding Mother, as well as including news in the text of normal posts.

Anyway, Thursday afternoon I received a call to say that Papworth had confirmed her operation for Wednesday, so will be transferred on Tuesday at some point. We talked for a while, and although there isn't really much I can say to make things any better, other than she is going to be in the best place for heart surgery.

Despite being back in James Paget, she is on the ACU, Acute Cardiac Unit, so if there was any doubt about her long term odds. So the operation will happen, and then see from there how she fares. I am going up on Sunday, staying at her house, visiting her in Gorleston Sunday and Monday, and then waiting for news how things go on Wednesday.

We have had to arrange a hire car for Jools as I will be taking our, so I can come and go when needed from hospitals. I expect to be away for maybe four weeks to start with, then we shall see how things go from then. Might be longer, might be shorter. So, if you read between the lines of the above, I will be way most of the month. I will try to write each day and so will post when I come home. I might not even have any internet access at all, we shall see. A break might do me good.

I even have some reading planned, which will also do me good. News as I get it.

Thursday 28th September 2017

I wake like I had been asleep for ten minutes. But Jools' alarm is going off, so despite being dark, it must be time to get up. And outside, rain falls steadily, matching my mood.

Anyway, it being a school day, ots to do before logging onto the company site, checking mails and the such. And there are bins to put out, coffee and breakfast to make. Oh dearie me. And blogs to write of course.

Jools worked 12 hours on Wednesday, so is now fully caught up, and so a bit of a relative lay in was good for her, although she faces a half hour drive each way to the office, has to make her lunch before she goes. She is showered and dressed and on her way at twenty past seven, just time to get to the factory in time, and I have time for breakfast before I have to start work and the day will begin with a meeting. And then another meeting, then type up notes, then have lunch.

And so on. At least outside the rain continued to fall, not letting full daylight appear. I have to have the table lamp on to see what I was doing. And then are the cats.

Molly has learned that she can sit on the work laptop, or behind it, or beside it, and just stare at me, silently meowing, and turning out she wants neither food, attention. Just meow. When I work out what meow is, I will let you know. And this behaviour goes on all day, at least until the afternoon when the rain stops and the sun comes out. And then she goes hunting and brings me a mouse, a vole and another mouse.

Which is nice.

Come four in the afternoon and it is time to fill up the car before taking the car back to the hire office. As the old manager has now left, I am finding it hard to get the new one to come and pick me up or drop me back home, so it being a nice afternoon, I would walk to the Rack of Ale and Jools collect me on the way home after work.

Indeed it is a wonderful day, driving down Jubilee Way then curving high over the docks, and it was one of those rare moments when there were no ferries in, but looking across the Channel I could see three steaming towards port.

The car is dropped off, I take a few shots of the new approach with Jubilee Way above as I do walk out, along East Cliff before crossing over to the Promenade. It is a fine walk, warm sunshine and at high tide, the sea a deep shade of blue. The new St James Development is nearing completion, at least of the main building work. But the town itself is in a state. More shops stand empty, and I find out later that others are thinking of closing when the new development opens at the start of next year. Even McDonald's is to close, with a new drive-thru branch open in Whitfield. I mean how bad can things be when Maccy Dees leave?

I walk along Biggin Street to Maison Dieu, then along Cherrytree to The Rack. There are a few others sitting in, so I take a seat, order the first beer and read a copy of i as I wait for Jools to arrive in about 40 minutes. I wish we could go more often, but we get wrapped up in our lives so much, sometimes we just forget to go out, and we can have a beer or cider at home.

As it happens, Jools had forgotten I was to be picked up, and goes straight home, but finding the doors locked realises where I am comes to rescue me from having to order a third pint!

Once home I am trusted with a knife to prepare the veg for chorizo hash, and against all odds, comes out well, it being cooked in about an hour from getting home, but already it was half seven and it seems half the evening gone.

As ever, there was football on the radio, but as Arsenal don't seem to be taking the Europa League seriously, why should we?

In order to have democracy we must restrict democracy

A short post. Perhaps.

A few weeks ago, an online petition was launched into whether there should be a referendum on the deal that the Government "secures" from the EU, and in time raised the 100,000 signatures which should have ensured it was debated in Parliament.

But the person who started the petition today received notification from the Government that the petition had been rejected stating, bluntly, that there had been a referendum into Britain leaving the EU, leaving had won, and now the Government was going to carry this out, there would be no remaining in the EU direct or by a back door.

This raises the question of what a mandate is, and whether the referendum is a one shot, one deal event that the Government clearly thinks it is. In a democracy, in Britain, the electorate gets to choose a government, and then five years later, decides whether they made the right choice before and can either vote for the ruling party again or vote them out of office. The is democracy in action, the electorate, the population, being able to change its mind.

This is why Brexiteers and May have repeatedly said that they are enacting the mandate from the people. This stifles not only democracy, but also debate, that anyone standing in the way of the process of leaving is a saboteur or traitor. And this line is spewed out on an almost daily basis.

On this I will point out the lies that the Leave campaign was built on, the £350 million a week to the EU lie, that Boris and the rest use semantics to disown. There is also the issue that legally, there was no compulsion on the Government to act on what was such a narrow victory. Politically, it was unavoidable. There could have been a quorum percentage added to the act that allowed the referendum to take place, say 60%, such a vote would be essential in what was such a major change. But all that is moot; the government has painted itself into a corner domestically and with the EU itself, acting either to leave or stay is going to be disastrous politically or economically.

IN a perfect world, with competent politicians acting as a team towards a shared goal, this would be a massive task. But with the Ministers of State in public disagreement, and a leader so weak she can do nothing to stop them, and no clear goal where they want to lead the country, there is little chance of anything but a disaster. And in the other political corner, Uncle Jeremy said this week he wanted to "save" Brexit, like the capatain of a rescue ship ploughing through survivors of a ship sinking in order to save the iceberg.

There is no real hope at the moment.

Wednesday 27th September 2017

If you have told me a few years back that I would be writing 45 posts a month by this stage, I would have thought you made, though in fairness many of the posts from the 1st and 2nd of the month are holiday posts, and what happened once we had returned. But still, that's a lot of writing, and either I must enjoy writing them, or the fact that some people might read them. Both in fact. And her we are on the 45th blog of the month, several Brexit ones, some ones detailing the issues Mum has, and the rest stuff I do. And it is worth pointing out as Brexit gets nearer, or not, the frequency of blogs on Brexit might get more frequent.

One thing though, that from Sunday I will be largely offline, so no blogs at least for two weeks I suspect, maybe even a month or more.

I woke up Wednesday in the hotel, with just the hint of noise from outside. I found Hamburg to be largely traffic free, even later in the morning, I stood outside waiting for my colleague, and just a few buses went by, and cyclists. Always cyclists. I have an hour to prepare for breakfast, so have a long shower and put on a shirt and tie so I look presentable. Down in the breakfast room, there is the usual stuff to choose from, so I find the fruit, although no bowls, just plates, so I try to get as much fruit salad on the plate, then attempt to work out how the coffee machine works in order to get a full cup, rather than a third, which is what I ended up getting first time.

Katharina joins me, and we talk about the meeting to come, and decide we are ready. I have a roll with butter and chocolate spread, as is usual in hotels the other side of the channel, and it works, getting the sugar hot with the rush of the coffee.

I go back up to pack, and then down to the lobby to check out and wait for Katharina so we can make our way to the office. Outside it was cool, and as I said before, traffic light, so I snap the scene, whilst I wait.

She arrives, then takes me down to the U-bahn station to get tickets for the train, then a quick ride of three stops brings us to a small ornamental lake. Around it were lined with grand and expensive looking hotels, shops and restaurants. It would cost some much to stay and shop here. In fact we end up going along a street lined on both sides with yet more designer shops, most not having prices in the window, and the voice of my Dad came back to me telling if there are no prices on an item, then you can't afford it. And he was right.

At the end of the street there was the office block. I say office block, it was a listed building, filled with art and a grand staircase. So, we get let in and walk up the stairs, where we were expected.

Some four hours later we leave. Phew. It was one on the afternoon, meaning I had four hours before my flight, enough time to dash back to the hotel to say hi to two more colleagues as they had arrived for another meeting before I would have to work out the metro system in order to get back to the airport.

We take a more direct line back, an overhead line, which I enjoy But then there hasn't been a train journey I haven't really not enjoyed. We get off at the Hbf, walk up the subway to wait in the hotel lobby, where a waitress tries to tempt us with coffee and lunch. But we are just waiting. Jesper and Torben arrive, we exchange news, but then they have to have lunch, change before their meeting, and I have to go, in case I get confused on the way, as the train, if I find the right one, will divide on the way, and I have to make sure I get in the right part of it.

THe line is called S1, so I follow the signs to the far side of the station, and wait until the right train pulls in, my German is just good enough to work out that the rear three carriages are going somewhere else, so I get in one of the front three, get a seat and see if I recognise the landmarks on the journey back. Turns out I do, as I see stations with familiar name, work ongoing putting in new walls that will soon be covered in graffiti, and so on.

The train splits, and one stop further on we enter a tunnel and arrive at the airport. I have to find the BA desk, as I have no boarding card, and find a long queue had already formed, and all had luggage to check in. Why should I have to queue too, if there was no self service facility available? Why indeed. I think about it, and on my phone log onto my booking on their website, confirm my seat, again, and have them e mail me my boarding card. That arrives in two minutes, so I was able to get through the barriers leading to security, join the lines to have my bag scanned. And once through I go up to the lounge, and make for the free beer.

Free beer is a perk of the business lounge, as is free snacks, high speed internet, soft furnishings and the rest. I will miss this when my membership card expires at the end of the year and I will be down with the cattle classes again.

40 minutes before the flight is due, I go down to the gate in time to walk onto the flight, take my seat. The flight is full, very full. So there is a lady sitting beside me, and once in the air it was clear that something was wrong. She huffed and puffed, seemed to be making a point when flicking through a magazine. Being British, I of course assume it is something I have done, and so try to ignore her, and at the same time try to take up as little space as possible.

As we approached London, we hut an air pocket and she jumped in her seat and grabbed mine and the gentleman's knees on the other side: sorry, I hate landing she said. She was nervous, not angry. Silly me Try to calm her down, offer her my seat, but that might have been worse. We circle round and round before dropping down, she twitching at every noise the plane made as the landing was prepared for. And once down she was back in businesswoman mode, on the phone and all that.

Instead of going home by train, I had booked a hire car, so I have to find their office, which was situated in the opposite direction of other car hire places and the signs I had been following. But it is there, and I am given keys to a Ford C-Max, and I can go.

I had chosen the car rather than the train so not have to go into central London, and by half six, seven, the rush hour should have been over, or the worst over. It was raining, and traffic was heavy near the airport and round to the M23, but I had the radio on, and Steve Lamaqc followed by Mark Reilly were on; good tunes, great tunes and the time flew.

By the time I got back into Kent, it was dark and a filthy night. I know the road, and when you can speed up and when to slow down as traffic would be thicker.

I got back into Dover just after eight, went to KFC for dinner, as it was the easiest option, taking dinner back home where Jools was waiting with the kettle freshly brewed.

I am home and all is well with the world. Or at least our world.

Schrodinger's Brexit

In which Brexit can and cannot exist at the same time.

Everyone knows about Boeing and Airbus as the two titans of the plane industry, but another player is Bombardier, a Canadian company, who have chosen to make the wings for their aircraft in Northern Ireland. Yesterday, in a trade dispute, the US imposed tariffs on Bombardier of 220% because they could, and because the US is bigger than Canada, they can get away with it. Thousands and thousands of jobs in NI are depending on Bombardier. And the lesson for Brexit is? Well, Our glorious leader, Mrs May has put faith in the US to replace the EU as our primary trading partner.

All this despite Trump saying all through his election campaign that he wanted to revisit and renegotiate all trade deals that had the US at a disadvantage. This we knew and I wrote about ad nauseum.

International trade is not nice and cosy, and is usually dictated by the larger party on their terms, hence the battles between Boeing and Airbus have largely stopped, as both the US and the SU are of the same size and can damage each other as badly. IN the case of Bombardier, disposing, or pricing a rival out of the market, even if it is against WTO rules is fair game as it means Boeing will come up smelling of roses and selling planes.

As you can see, a smaller, much smaller UK getting a trade deal with the US will therefore be on the US's terms, and demand that we import their meat and allow access to US pharmaceuticals to the NHS. Its the way of international trade, and Trump has not been shy about his protectionism. So putting our faith in the orange shitgibbon is clearly misplaced, and will end in tears, tears that will flow for decades.

So, with tariffs of 226% in the offing, and an appeal some months away, the business hangs in the balance.

And then there is the 4th round of talks between the UK and EU, which ended today. Listening to the speeches by Davis and Barnier, you would have thought they had been to different meetings, as their conclusions were so different; Davis saying progress had been made, and Barnier saying although there had been movement, not enough progress on the three basic issues, so, not good enough to allow parallel talks on trade to begin. Which is as expected, and predicted.

THere will be no more talks until next month, and in between there will be the Conservative Party Conference next week, where May's speech will be all important; will she play to the editor of the Mail and Express or to the Eu and further the case for realism? We don't know. But if last year is a guide, short term political survival is more important than the national interest, so the good work of the last week or so could be all undone. So, will she stick or twist?

So wit the idea of free trade being shown this week the illusion we all knew it was, and the EU playing hardball in repeating the mantra "sufficient progress means sufficient progress" and just to be annoying "brexit means brexit" the UK has painted itself further into a corner, and as Donald Tusk has said, the only realistic alternative to a hard Brexit is no Brexit at all, will the reality of the situation be admitted to?

As a final word, Theresa May said a few things today regarding the snap election: that the Tories were not prepared; well, she was the leader and called the election, if this isn't a loud enough warning regarding Brexit negotiations then I don't know what is. And that there wasn't enough debate before the election. Coming from a PM that ducked and avoided all the TV debates and also avoided any members of the public lest they speak to her, this is rich.

She also said that "creating needless barriers to trade between the EU and it's biggest market would benefit no one", and at the same time failed to see the irony in the UK leaving the largest free market in the world. And then added " you cannot have all the benefits of single market membership without its obligations", as if she has had a Damascene revelation. We have been screaming this at her for months, and yet she pushes for some kind of bespoke trade deal that is still having cake and eating it.

And finally, the TUC and CBI issued a joint statement on the status of citizenship of EU and IK nationals, mainly EU nationals, and demanding the end of using them and their lives as bargaining chips. I shall spell out how bonkers that the Trade Union Congress and the Confederation of British Industry, the unions and bosses agree on this and sign and issued the statement. How bad must things be for this to happen, and when will the Government realise they are so wrong on this. And other matters to, of course.

Still to agree on:

1. The Irish border
2. Citizenship
3. Divorce settlement.

Get these sorted and the rest might just follow. As I have said, of these three, 1. is the hardest, and probably impossible to fix, especially with the Tories propped up by the DUP.

Tuesday 26th September 2017

Ian's on the road again.

By the way, I really wanted to like On the Road. I really did. But I found it frustrating the way it jumped about, would love it to have had more details of being on the road. Don't get me started on The Catcher in the Rye....

Hope that didn't offend... Really.

Anyway am up at half five, and it is still very much night time. I get up and get dressed, seems the right thing to do. We both have to be ready to leave the house at quarter to seven so I can make it to the station, so we divvy up tasks, washing up, feeding the cats and last minute checks. And we're ready to leave on time, with me just carrying everything in a rucksack, let's hope I have everything.

I am only going to be away for about 36 hours, but still, you know, away. However, there will be an upside, or two, as you will find out in a while.

Jools drops me off at Martin Mill, leaving me time to buy my ticket and engage the lady in the ticket office in small talk. I was going to buy a return ticket in case there was issues with the hire car when I arrived back in London tomorrow, but instead of the 10p difference, it was £40. So I just have a single and hope for the best.

On the platform it is dawn, there is a light mist in the air, and there are plenty of other passengers waiting, so much so that I struggle to get the seat I want, or at least on the correct (for me) side of the train. And we are off. And by the time we leave Folkestone West, there were people standing. I have not seen trains in this route so busy this early in the journey. And despite many people getting off at Ashford, people are standing all down our carriage, and I close my eyes as we zoom north.

When I do have my eyes open, I see that many trees are already turning from green to gold. It is very pleasant, even if we only get fleeting glimpses of the scenes as we fly through the countryside at something close to 140mph. We don't break stride to stop at Ebbsfleet which explains why this service is so popular I guess.

Again I linger on the train once we arrive at St Pancras, but the platform and exit gates are still busy. Now, I have three hours, so what shall I do? I decide to walk over to King's Cross in the endless quest to see one of the new Hitachi units in service or on test. There are nothing but EMUs, 91s and 43s. I already have enough of those, so don't take a shot. But I do go into the square outside to sit for a while and watch the busy world go by, hurrying to work.

I think that I might go to Baker Street, have a wander round the back streets and take some shots. Which is what I do. Down into the underground station, onto the Metropolitan Line along the oldest stretch of underground railway int he world, getting out at the world famous Baker Street. I was light in my head and dead on my feet. But with the sun breaking through the mist, it was a wonderful morning to be about with a camera.

Although the busy streets can be interesting, I walk towards the trees of Regent's Park, crossing the main road at Clarence Gate, and as soon as I walked through the gate to the park, the noise of the busy city faded away. I had chosen wisely.

Along the wide walkway past the ornamental lake, ducks and geese were snoozing, waiting for people to bring them food. There was no breath of air, so there were perfect reflections in the surface of the water, making for fine snaps, especially as a pair of swans went across the lake, disturbing the perfect reflections.

I pause for coffee and cake at the cafe beside the lake. The two girls who are working there are fed up with work already, but there are worse places to work than in a royal park, when there are next to no customers. I sit outside near a table with four policemen and women sitting round. They are enjoying the day, but have to wear stabvests and the usual tools of their trade. A long way from a bobby with just a truncheon for company.

I walk back to the tube station, and look along Euston Road; it is clogged with traffic, I feel so sad that most of us spend our days stuck in cities or traveling around them. It is half ten, and time to head to Heathrow, so go down and catch a Circle Line train to Paddington, and once there go down the steps from the footbridge to catch an Express train that was just about to leave. Not that I was in a hurry, as I had no luggage to check in, just get a boarding pass and go through security.

There were no Hitachi trains along the Great Western line either, at the new depot just before Southall. But I do catch a glimpse of a steam engine at the West Coast depot; either Oliver Cromwell or Tornado or Flying Scotsman. It was green and smoking for sure, of that I can be sure. Soon we turn off the main line and enter the tunnel to the station, with me gettign off at the very end of the line, the British Airways terminal, 5. Up the lift to the departure hall, get my boarding pass, and through security in 5 minutes, then walk past all the shops until I was attracted by Dixons and had me wondering if they had the new 6D mkII. Turns out they did, and would sir like to try it? He would. And what lens would you like to use? 50mm. Will the f1.2 be OK?

Like he was trying to lure me in. He was and had caught me. It works like a dream, but then drops the bombshell that there is a worldwide stock shortage as demand as been high, and didn't think they had one to sell. Just as well as I was ready to give him my credit card.

I go to the BA lounge as I feel the need for free found and high speed internet. I am not disappointed, and by midday fresh bowls of chilli and rice are being put out so we can help ourselves. A glass of wine? I think so. A bad idea as it turns out, as soon even after the one glass I feel snoozy indeed. At one, I make my way down to the gate and am one of the first allowed on board as I have the silver card. Though not for much longer though. And once on board, I close my eyes as the rest get on and stow their oversized cabin bags.

Oddly enough, as soon as we are in the air and having turned to the east, I close my eyes and sleep. The flight is only 80 minutes, so I must have slept for 40 minutes or so, but woke as we dropped through the clouds, feeling refreshed and excited about visiting a new city. I just had to find my way to the hotel which was "near" the main railway station.

Near.

But first I had to find the U-bahn station and get there, thankfully, there was a sign saying that all trains that depart stop at the hauptbahnhof. Which was good. The platform filled up, but once the train pulled in there was enough room for us all, and I got a seat facing the direction of travel.

We pass through a short tunnel, then into the suburbs, the line being lined with the ever=present graffiti. It is colourful I guess. More fencing is being put up which will soon be covered as soon as its installed.

Through many junctions and intersections until we rattle into the station, in the huge iron and glass trainshed, the way that European stations seem to do so well.

There is a wide overbridge giving views onto the tracks and platforms below. I tell myself I will stay for ten minutes.

Nearly an hour later I pull myself away from the passing trains and try to find the hotel. I walk out to the nearest exit and stumble into an Oktoberfest. That means beer and unhealthy food. And as I was thirsty, so I seek out a stall selling beer and treat myself to half a litre of fizzy German lager, which is OK to be honest.

But I cannot see my hotel, neither make out the street names. The beer does not help. I use the maps feature on the mobile phone, and in the end work out that I need to go back through the station, and if I was correct the hotel would be there.

And it is, and is posh, and here's me with my sweaty t shirt on. I check in and have a room on the top floor with views out over the city rooftops. It is fine, but I soon untidy the room by emptying my stuff all over the spare bed finding my computer lead. Sadly, the hotel has a very slow internet connect, mails take ten minutes to load, and I soon lose interest.

Kathrina, by boss on the project, has arrived and suggests that we meet for dinner. So I go down to the lobby, and after looking round the neighbourhood, we plump on an Italian place overlooking the square. Sadly, I am hungry and something with chips will only do, so I order schnitzel and fries, but a bottle of chianti, so part Italian meal. And it is good, and conversation is good, as she tells me about her home city, and things to see, if we were not working in the morning.

And back in my room, I follow the evenings games via the internet which does slightly speed uop as others go to bed, most surprisingly, there is no coverage of the CL on free to air TV and whatever is available in the room, so have two windows open on the computer so I could follow Norwich as well, and they win. Again. And have now gone 5 games, all of the month thus far, without conceeding a goal. A club record, and a happy return trip for the 428 brave souls who made the trip.

Monday 25th September 2017

3 months to Christmas. O dear.

I am writing this three days after the event, and so my memory is very blurry. I mean I can say with some confidence that I got up, got dressed, had breakfast, did some work, had lunch, did more work then began to think about cooking dinner. But the actual details are somewhat thin.

I had a contractual document to review, which took up all my working time, other than when I wasn't replying to e mails and in meetings.

The cats have learned that by sitting either between me and the work laptop or on the laptop, I will feed them, pet them or whatever in order to be able to get back to work, so the day is punctuated by those incidents. And the two times Molly brought in a mouse of vole for me to have as a snack. Then wait for her kibble-based rewards. Which I provide, obvs.

And all the while I think about how much I have enjoyed working from home these past few months, working at my own pace, sitting in the garden to drink tea in the afternoon, petting the cats, listening to the radio and so on, but this week I have to go to Hamburg in the first move in the grand dance of the next project. Which means packing, hotels, restaurant food and beer. German beer this time.

And yet I like being at home, no matter how much fun it seems I am having when away, nothing beats being here at home with Jools and the cats. Simples.

I heard from Mum, she is being transferred from Norwich back to paget, so now has a ten day wait for the operation. I am at a loss of what to say really, she is rightly worried about the operation, clealry the doctor must have explained it to her. But then it must be necessary, and would not do it if they thought she would recover.

I cooked boiled chicken with bacon and rice for dinner; always much better than it sounds. It is just ready when Jools comes home, so we can sit down and listen to the radio whilst we eat. Turns out there was a slice of ice cream roulade, some kind of posh arctic roll, for dessert. Not bad, not bad.

I wanted the evening to last forever, so reluctant was I to travel, but I knew there was no avoiding it, so while Arsenal played, I pack an overnight back with a change of cloths, my basic work kit; computer, leads and phone lead, and I am done.

Arsenal win, and it is time for bed. Tomorrow, trains, planes and more trains.

Sunday 24th September 2017

And as there was absolutely nothing to do, or get up really early for, I was wide awake at five in the morning, listening to the sounds outside, and seeing if I could sense when the morning was coming. Even the cats slept on.

But dawn did come and it was time to get up, feed the cats and have the first coffee of the morning. And after checking in the interwebs, sit on the sofa to watch the fooball, in the hope Milly who has been acting a bit strange lately, might come and sit with me. I say strange, I guess it is fair to say that she has mellowed in her old age, and is now quite sociable, bears to be picked up. In fact sometimes seems to demand it, likes having her shoulders rubbed hard. She closes her eyes and dribbles at this sometimes.

Midway through the football, I pause it and go to make breakfast; proper butties made with butchers bacon, cut so thick the rashers appeared to be gammon slices, not smoked streaky. Needless to say they made butties to die for, and wonderful to go back on the sofa with a huge brew and watch the end of the football.

By which point it was a fine days outside; clear blue skies, no breeze and unbroken sunshine. Perfect autumnal morning, so best make the most of it, and in a change from what you thought, we both worked in the garden until lunchtime. Jools deadheaded and then replaced plants, planted bulbs. Whilst I raked the lawn, or what we hope will be a meadow come this time next year. But it is hard work, and I manage to get blisters on both hands, and work up an appetite come lunchtime.

Some crusty bread and jam sorted the hunger out.

And then back into the garden to finish raking the lawn, before finally getting the mower out to give it one last cut and to hoover up the last bits of dried grass and moss. I decided I deserved a cold beer, so I do. Jools has iced squash, and we survey the work we have done. But back in the living room to listen to the footy, I snooze on the sofa after one tiddly bottle of Wobbly. But I do wake up to make coffee for us, then edit some shots as the game on the radio played out. In the end Brighton scored the only goal, but really I had long since lost interest as I prepared finest fillet steak, garlic mushrooms, fresh corn and chips. And needless to say, it was wonderful. We listened to Desert Island Discs at the same time as we ate.

It seemed odd not to have Mum call on Sunday night, but she is now in a place where she will be monitored. And that is the end of the weekend, nothing really exciting, just stuff. But the garden looks lovely!

Opposites Attract

So, with the chaos of the Government and May's Cabinet on Brexit and the art of withdrawal, where for art though, HM's Official Opposition? AKA, the Labour Party?

And I would say, good question. As they are every bit as clueless as the Government. Well, that's not quite the truth, as Comrade Corby rules over his party like a Soviet Chairman, and despite his decades of not towing the party line, he sacks anyone who disagrees with he decisions, especially on Brexit. The time to challenge the Government was prior to the sending of the A50 letter, but Labour was triple whipped, and many leading lights and brains on the subject were sacked from the shadow cabinet, so Labour now have a very clever backbench, but apart from Keir Starmer, clueless on the front bench.

Some like to give Corbyn the benefit of the doubt, and say he just biding his time to change tack as public opinion turns against Brexit and then sweeps into power. When the truth is that he sees the EU as a barrier to some kind of socialist wonderland where the people own everything, and the people, through him, run the country.

Of course, thing about political dogma is that no matter how well intentioned it might be, it fails to take into account reality, and although stuff like taking the railways back into public ownership sounds great, the reality is that some twenty years have passed since BR was wound up and privatised, now though nominally we have a privatised railway, in fact it is micro-managed by the Department of Transport to a point it never was in BR days.

It is sobering to think that if Corbyn had been Prime Minister in June 2016, as he demanded the day after the referendum that the A50 notification be sent immediately. Had that have happened, Britain would be less than 9 months away from exiting the EU. And he is supposed to be a viable alternative??

So, when the truth is the party did so well in the most recent election, they did so because they were not Conservative, and people hoped they would do something about Brexit, but today the conference was told that the Brexit parrot is dead, there is no going back, which will disappoint many people.

In order to explain to folks who are not going through this, what does Brexit mean in simple terms/ Well, imagine you buy a house, its not perfect, but you see the potential of the site, so decide to have it knocked down and a replacement one built. So, you consult architects, come up with a design, get planning permission from the local council, clear the site, dig foundations and get skilled builders in to complete the new build. And in a year or so, the house is ready for you to move in. On the other side of the street, the Brexit family also buy a house decide its not to their liking, decide to knock it down, then find the local council won't give them permission to build a new one and you are in contempt of court for knocking the old one down. Realising you have nowhere to sleep that night, you demand the council provide you with a house as someone has knocked your one down.

This is Brexit and the Brexiteers attitude: lying to get people vote to leave, then having got what they wanted, have no idea what to do, demand that the EU come up with imaginative solutions for the problem they created. Of course, they were warned about knocking their house down, but knew better than their expert lawyers and builders. If we knock the house down, they HAVE to let us build a new one, the council needs their council tax.

The EU has accepted Britain is leaving the EU, and now wants Britain to get on with it. It will hurt the EU for sure, but knows it will hurt Britain more.

It looks increasingly likely that the EU won't allow an transition to the A50 process, not until it know what the transition it transiting towards. So, until Britain makes up its mind, we are in a Brexit wonderland.

Further update

Not much to add really to what I said thus far. But, Mum is still in the N&N hospital, but will be transferred back the James Paget in Yarmouth today whilst she waits for a bed at Papworth.

I have spoken to her, and her cleaner! She is better now, less breathless, but clearly not well enough to go home. I mean it sounds that she is getting better and should be soon heading home. Then you have to remind yourself that she is to have a major operation next week. Jools and I had a long conversation about this last night, and clearly, no matter how routine a procedure is, all operations carry risk, cardiac procedures more so. And, lets not be kidding ourselves here, she is not in the best of health, and when that is the case, even if the operation goes well, recovery time is longer and more drawn out.

I suspect I, or Jools and I, expect to be up in Suffolk at least for four weeks once she is out of hospital. THe plan is for me to stay at her house and travel into Cambridge most days until she is home, then be there as she recovers.

Mum has no internet connection, so will be offline for some time, which in the cosmic scale of things, is the least of my worries. Not that I am worrying, those of you who know the relationship with my Mother should understand this.

So, things are on pause for now, I will work today and travel to Hamburg tomorrow for the planned meeting. After than, we shall see.

Saturday 23rd September 2017

For the last two months or so, whenever the weekend comes round, there has been something to do. All my own fault I hasten to add, but still, it would be nice just to have a weekend when there was nothing we need to go out for, so able to go out, if we fancied it. So, it came to pass, other than going out for shopping, we had nothing planned, so an afternoon on the sofa listening to the footy was planned, by me at least.

For a change, we decided to go to Sainsbury's instead of Tesco, as they have better cider apparently, so the in house cider expert tells me. And I hoped to top up on some ingredients for cooking. Only problem was they don't do scan and shop there, so in order not to be ticked off by the average zombie shopper and queues at the tills, it is best to be in and out by eight. And of course, this means that Saturday morning, we both lay asleep until after seven, scrambling up and I say I will go shopping.

It is a pleasant drive into Deal, especially when there are few others about. And from The Strand I could even see the French coast, a wonderful clear start to the day.

A quick trip round the shop, round and round looking for something in particular. I ask where it is; oh we don't stock that any more. Bugger. Anyway, I have everything else, so join a line at one of the tills, and watch as a woman in her 60s packs her bags as slowly as possible, then counts out her bill of over a hundred quid in fivers. One. Two. Three. And so on.

Unlike her, I put the items on the belt in the order they need packing, meaning I am done and paid in a few minutes, loading the car up and on my way home just before eight.

After breakfast, we drive over to Preston so I can go to the butchers, and Jools goes to the garden centre for some winter pansies. By now traffic was heavy, especially near to Sandwich, and not made easier by most people not using their indicators. How there aren't more accidents, I don't know. But we turn off on the Canterbury road, traffic is lighter, so with the Huey show on the radio, driving is enjoyable, and with the sun shining, it even feels likes summer. Although at the butchers, they have opened the book for Christmas orders, autumn is more certainly here.

I get some steak for the weekend, chicken fillets for the freezer, and some cheese for an easy meal during the week.

Jools has her plants, so I pay, and we are off back home, retracing our way back to Whitfield, past the first dozens of the thousand-plus new houses being built beside the main road.

Now for the next bit of orchid news: I know groans all round. But, earlier in the summer, I ordered some cultivated hardy orchids from a reputable supplier from the Hardy Orchid Society magazine, and this week the two rhizomes arrived, so needed planting. Or potting anyway. I have a CSO and a Bee, the Bee came already potted, so just watered that, then potted the CSO, watered that as well, now we have to wait until the end of may. Although the Bee had a rosette already formed, and the CSO was showing signs of fresh growth.

So excited; orchids of my very own!

Anyway, to te sofa and don't spare the beer! Yes, because of holidays, eclipses, Old Oak Common, Heritage Open Day, Open House, I have not been at home all season, not a major inconvenience I admit, but there is something about sitting inside listening to the scores from 40 games taking place at the same time, and a goal from Accrington Stanley being given as much importance as one from Anfield. Anyway, despite playing at home, Norwich could not score, so drew 0-0, but that's still only one goal conceded in 5 games. OK if you're a glass half full kinda guy I suppose.

Elsewhere, there were goals, sending offs and some other stuff. But, only one result mattered.

As usual on a late summer's evening, we have insalata for dinner; some shop bought focaccia to eat with it. Not as good as mine, but less time to prepare.

And that was our quiet Saturday. Shopping, football and gardening. Lovley.

Blinking in the bright light of Brexit

Yesterday, the reality of Brexit was revealed when PM Teresa May made a much trumpeted speech in Florence. Sadly for her, most European leaders turned down invitations, just as she had refused the option of addressing them directly in Brussels last week. The whole next round of Brexit talks had been delayed a week to wait for the speech as it was supposed to be keynote, and game changing. In the end she offered little new or of substance, suggesting that UK might pay £18 billion, which seems to only cover the current round of finance, nothing beyond 2019. There was nothing on EU citizen's rights, and most importantly nothing on the Irish border, and the EU has to feel there has been sufficient progress on all three before parallel talks on trade would be allowed to take part.

Reaction in Europe has been muted, most of which says nothing much has changed, to as long as there is more detail next week when the 4th round of talks start.

If there is deemed not to have been such progress, or any one of the EU27 national parliaments, or the regional parliaments, or the EU Parliament, or the ECJ fail to ratify the deal, then UK leaves the EU on 29th March 2019 without a deal.

May did ask for "something like" a 2 year extension to UK leaving the EU. This has not been received well at home, but generally there has been failure to see that such an extension is not given, the EU could reject it as they see it as just a delaying tactic as UK decides what it wants to transit to. Because at the moment the Cabinet, the Government, The House of Commons, Parliament are all divided on what we want in the end anyway.

All this chaos was predicted of course, but ignored by the Government as it charged on regardless. In fact, it was pointed out that the last part of Brexit that UK would control was the timing of the A50 letter. I mean what bunch of idiots would enter into a process they had no idea of what they wanted at the end, or whether it could be stopped, or how it could be stopped. And then you realise that May is the Prime Minister, Boris Johnson is the Foreign Secretary, Andrea Leadsom is the Leader of the House, Michael Gove is Environmental Secretary and David Davis has been charged with leading the negotiations with the EU. And he is the brains of the operation. Now you see what we are in such a mess.

So we wait to hear from the EU, but already the French President has said there wasn't enough detail, and the Irish PM has said that without clarity on the Irish border, there can be no progress in talks. No progress, no deal, then out on WTO riles, and next time I will cover what those mean. And it aint pretty for Britain.

And finally, Moody's downgraded UK's credit rating further. Once upon a time, maintaining the AAA rating was a manifesto promise for the Conservative Party, now it is something that happened. The Tresury tried to say that the downgrade was based on outdated evidence, but as Moody's waited until after the Florence speech to do the downgrading it doesn't seem likely. Now debt will become ever more expensive for the UK government, and this will increase taxes for us all.

Friday 22nd September 2017

Autumn equinox.

Quite an odd day all told. I mean, Mum is in hospital waiting for an operation that in itself could be fatal, but would improve her health. But, she is now stable, in the Norfolk and Norwich hospital, waiting for a decision on whether she stays there, is transferred back to James Paget in Yarmouth, or a bed comes free at Papworth. Leaving us all in a limbo. She said she would call us with news, so until there all we can do is wait.

And as it was Friday, and as Jools had picked me up from the station the evening before at ten, she had a lay in until six, me I laid asleep until ten to seven, but it was to be something of a normal working day, once I got my head straight. And that required coffee. Lots of coffee.

In the end, near to nine my head was straight enough to log into work, and try to finish the document I need to for the project. This meant having to understand how tracking changes worked, and the fact that since the last update, Word had been saving my documents to the cloud rather than sharepoint. So, after thinking that a week of work had disappeared, I found it, saved them in the right place and started to edit, move paragraphs round. And then after saving the draft, I could not see the changes in the finished document!

A strong cuppa and a long think made me realise I had to write click on each edit, and accept the change. That done the rest was done quickly.

And oddly, no one really wanted to speak to me when I called them. I guess we have our meetings and stuff to do. But I did chat with my manager, and I said I would make a decision by Monday whether to travel to Hamburg. Not much else I can do really.

With the document done, and some more notes written. My brain was friend, so I stopped work, just as jOols returned from work, and hour early? Had she been sacked or walked out? No, they told her to leave and have a long weekend, even if it was just 90 minutes extra, to her it was a big thing, and she was in a fine mood.

Shame then I was in such a black one, as I mulled over the different scenarios about Mother, and when she had the operation, she would need four to six weeks of looking after, and with no one else, that would be me. And being near the hospital in Cambridge wouldn't be cheap either. Sorry to sound so mercenary, but it is true. A week, or tow, or more in a hotel or B&B would add up. Thankfully, my boss has told me to take off as much time as possible, which is good. And yet, there is the cloud hanging over me in regards to Mother. With our history and the herd of elephants that occupy a room when we meet, our relationship is difficult at times. And then there is what she has done in the past, one day when the time is right I will write all of that down, well, were it not the fact that we look so similar, I would claim to be adopted. But clearly I was not.

Jools works in the garden, and I stay in waiting for the phone to ring.

It doesn't. So for a change I go to the chippy for dinner. Cod for me and a battered sausage for Jools. That done, we have another brew and sit inside as the sun sets on summer outside, with night and day now equal, and from tomorrow the longer and longer nights will outweigh daylight.

By eight we were restless, so I call the hospital and finally get through to the admissions department, who put me through to the ward. And the news is there is no news. She is perky, and less breathless. But is still waiting for the consultant to do his round that evening, and she had seen no other doctor all day. So, stable as can be. And that would be that other than the fact she has to have the operation. I say that I will be up when she goes to Papworth, and for her recovery, but the details have yet to be worked out, and she is happy about that.

There is Only Connect and Gardner's World to watch before we are tired once again, so ends another day in Chez Jelltex.

Thursday 21st September 2017

I had a major decision to make; Mum clearly was ill and I had been booked for months to go on a railtour out of Kings Cross that day. I could have bailed, but if I dd, what could I do? I didn't even know which hospital she was in, as she was supposed to be moved to the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital for an angiogram. Would she be there for the rest of the day, or moved back to James Paget?

So, until she called sometime on Thursday evening, there was little that would be gained from not going. And until she gets to Papworth, there was nothing I could do, as she has most of what she needs, and I have no key for her house, and would have to rely on a neighbour letting me if, if they had a key. So, I decided to go on the tour, Jools would take MUm's call, and if needed I could travel on Friday or over the weekend or next week.

Only time will tell.

So, before then, there is the small matter of getting to that London to catch a train. But catching another train.

Jools had set the alarm for half five, and it being still dark. There was time for coffee, breakfast and putting out the bins as well ad feeding the cats as usual, so we would be all ready to go at quarter to seven, in time for the drive down the hill to the station in time so I could buy a ticket, then go onto the platform to enjoy the stillness of the morning. So still the crows did not want to break the silence.

Or so I assume.

A few minutes before the departure time, people arrive, soon filling up the platform, greetings were made, then walking to different parts f the train to meet friends already onboard or who will get on later. The train arrives the door stops right beside me, and there is a seat on the left hand side which is my preference. We are soon descending into the tunnel, out the other side and Dover laid out below us. THe tracks follow the contours of the land, gently dropping heights as we near Buckland.

More people get on in Dover, and even more at each of the Folkestone stations. It is standing room only from Ashford because this service does not stop at Ebbsfleet. Instead it takes the fast lines and motors past at something over 120 mph.

At St Pancras, I have over an hour to kill, so wander over to King's Cross to see if there was one of the new Japanese units, or maybe the train taking me north would be there. But the answer to both was no. I think breakfast would be a good idea. So after eyeing up the queues at each of the food outlets on the mezzanine floor, I decide on Mexican and a breakfast burrito with extra refried beans, chorizo and mild sauce. And coffee.

OK, it wasn't good food, but OK, and different to what I usually have, and a reminder to the long off days on Red Flag when a silver truck would come round and cook Mexican food right on the flight line. That's where I got the taste for a breakfast burrito, but nothing since has come anywhere close.

But having been fed and watered again, I am fit for photography and other malarkey, and with nine o'clock approaching, I fet the need to go onto the platform for some train action. I should have gone to the end of the platform, but decided to stay down near the buffers to snap our train as it pulled in, which it did at quarter past nine, giving us fifteen minutes to get to the front, take a snap of the locomotive there and then walk back down to find our seats.

I am sat at a table with three other men, all of a certain age, two divorced with no current partners. There is a pattern developing. As well as flasks and well packed sandwich boxes. I have been to M&S and have sandwiches, crisps and just missing lashings of ginger beer really. I have a smoothie instead.

THe train lurches off at half past, stopping at Potters Bar and Stevenage, picking up more and more passengers, meaning that it was just about full when it moved off again, taking its time to cruise up the East Coast Main Line on the slow lines, leaving behind the leafy suburbs, making our way to the industrial, or postindustrial midlands. To Peterborough, with many of my fellow passengers hoping to "spot" numbers of locomotives lined up to the north of the station, and people shouting out numbers so note books could be updated.

We turn off the main line at Grantham, striking out along a branch line to Nottingham. Either side of the line was so overgrown, bushes and trees scraped down the side of the carriages, leading to many comments about the state of the network and lack of maintenance. We pass through Nottingham, then wind our way though various towns with lower league or non league teams until we can see the twisted spire of St Mary and All Saints, the most distinctive spire on all of the country, crooked either by poor design or poor workmanship, no one is sure, but it still stands.

Beyond Chesterfield, we take a little used siding, then take a chord to the left down a long headhunt, before reversing back up into Barrow Hill. There, there was a station big enough to take two carriages. Shame we had ten.

As we had neared our destination, the clouds have thickened, and now the rain fell, in increasing amounts, until it seemed that we would get quite wet. In fact we knew we would be getting wet. Oh well.

Barrow Hill is the last surviving example of a "roundhouse", a purpose built building, which contained a turntable and stabling for locomotives, so repairs and preparation could be undertaken. It is now part museum, and park working site, as they do repair and restore locomotives here too.

We have to line up the length of the train, then file along passing through the first class coaches and even through the kitchen, one by one onto the small platform and into the rain. We dashed to the roundhouse, being barred from the cafe as the VIPs from the official opening were still having tea and medals.

As you walk into the shed, on the centre road on the turntable, ex-4472 Flying Scotsman, aka the most famous steam train in the world, aka the Flying Banknote because of the four million quid the NRM spunked on restoring her this last decade. She sits and smokes, just for show, she ain't going nowhere today.

We all rush round getting shots of her and the other locos around the turntable, then look outside at the grim scene in the rain, a column of smoke marked where Tornado was parked, so we all tucked our cameras under our coats, and made a dash outside, grabbing shots hoping our gear didn't get too wet.

I go outside again, get one last round of shots inside, have a pint of Porter and it is time to board the train, lining up in the rain to get back through the single door and file along the train to our seat. It seemed impossible that we would all be back on in time, but dead on time the train lurched backwards back up the headshunt, then after a pause back onto the main line. Another reverse taking us back over the main line, and finally, moving back towards Chesterfield, and then retracing our steps to Nottingham and to the main line and south.

Needless to say, as the train pulled out, the rain eased, and our trip south was blessed with bright late afternoon sunshine, but always with the threat of more rian, a bright rainbow to the east as we motored towards Peterborough.

We were all pooped, some of us ate sandwiches, drank beer or tea from flasks that had been brought along.

As we neared London, darkness fell, and so looking out the window revealed just our faces staring back at us. As we passed through stations, we tried to glimpse the name of it on the platform board as it flashed backwards.

We did the two stops again, so people got off, but by this time we just wanted to get off and continue our journey home. At least we were on time, meaning I have 40 minutes for the train home, I loitered on the train, then on the platform called Jools to find out the news regarding MUm. Before finally leaving the platform, taking some hand held shots of the station and the various trains at their buffers, now at rest.

I decide to go to St Pancras and wait the arrival of the train we were to board, thus securing a seat. In the end, the train wasn't that busy, plenty of seats for all. And for me, a seat looking out on the side fo the train I like, though most of the landmarks would be shrouded in darkness. Anyway, by the time it came for departure, my eyes grew heavy, and through the journey I was jerked awake from announcements or the bang of a passing train going in the opposite direction.

Jools was waiting at Martin Mill, so she takes me home for a supper of short life pork pie, lemon tart and lots of tea. We talk over what to do about Mum, but ntil we have concrete news on Friday or beyond, little we can do. Other than wait for news. So, work as normal on the morrow!