Wednesday 29th November 2017

Tis was the day of the great discharge debacle (see yesterday's post). So, really, everything pales into insignificance.

It was a bright morning, once the sun came up, and I had hoped of getting out for some walking. But a phone call was to put a stop to that.

And this is the 50th and final blog of the month too. I mention that as I have been busy, tapping away.

And as ever, there is nothing much new to report on. The days are ever colder and shorter. Sunrise is at nearly eight in the morning now, by which time I really should be starting work. And I was, getting on with the newtask assigned, and working well until Sheila called at ten; did I know if MUm was going to be released.

And then began the phone call chase around James Paget as I tried to get an answer.

And that took the morning and an hour of the afternoon. By which time I felt drained. If Mum is going to be discharged, which is highly likely, then I probably will go to stay for a few days to ensure her transition back to home life goes smoothly.

But we shall see what Friday's trip brings.

To be honest my head is spinning as I try to make sense in the 189 degree turn round, and the agreement from her case worker that really Mum isn't ready to be released, but will have to be. I understand, you can lead a horse to water and not make it walk to the bins to take her rubbish our, or stop smoking. We shall see.

There is jacket spuds for dinner, taking three hours for mine to cook and go, hopefully, crispy. But they don't crisp up, and are soft and shrivelled by the time Jools gets back at six.

And then there is more football on the radio: six more PL games, I won't bore you with the details, but it is all exciting stuff for a Wednesday evening, goals, sendings off and me writing and editing.

Another day and month draws to an end. And thousands of miles away, one of my oldest online friends is preparing to move, to be with her new love. Big changes, and I wish them both, and her family, all the best. I was lucky enough to meet them this summer, and both wonderful, warm and genuine people you could wish to meet. The internet can be used for great things, not just the bad things that get reported.

See you all, next month.

End of another month in Brexit

Another month gone, and another month Britain crashing out of the EU without a deal. I won't go over all the stuff that happened this month, as it is too made to contemplate, but yesterday marked another month into the ever decreasing amount of time before all talk must stop and ratifying must begin.

With all the talk of financial deals, we must remind the leavers, Brexiteers and all round general headbangers, that YOU won. And this is the result of you winning, deals have to be done. Difficult deals, where paying money like this £50 billion is less than the economy would suffer if we were to leave without a deal. And it is money we have already budgeted to pay if we would have stayed in the EU. We have to remind the winners, that in not having a plan in the event of them actually getting the 37% which constituted a majority. Anyway, just to remind them, that this is the easy stuff, or should be, when we get onto trade, Britain really will have to have an idea what is actually wanted at the end of the process, not make it up as we go along. And that the EU are our nearest and closest friends, and these talks should be the easiest. Imagine how hard it will be against a country who really wants to shaft us?

But sunlit uplands and all that.

Today, The Times, ran a story on the front page that a deal on the Irish border was close. News to just about everyone I follow on Twitter, with the uncertain border principle still unsolvable as ever. The DUP reiterated its position of wanting Brexit and no border, so best they come up with a solution then. And piling more pressure on May stated that a "border" in the Irish Sea would be a step too far. As would special status for NI.

The Scottish Parliament has decided to seek out the answer if the Article 50 notification can be unilaterally withdrawn by Britain. THis will answer a tricky question that has not been asked. At the moment it seems that agreement by the EU27 would be needed, but the chap who wrote Article 50 says that a country triggering A50 can withdraw it. The upshot would be that at the end of the process in Britain, if the UK Parliament decided and voted against the bill then the Government would have to revoke it, no need to ask permission. Thus the vote would suddenly become more meaningful indeed.

And finally, President Trump retweeted some nasty far right videos last night, and when this was pointed out he lashed out, on Twitter, frst against the wrong Mrs May, then saying Trump was right. Even when the videos were proven to be not as described, so fake news, a White House spokesperson said the truth remained, so the tweets stand. So, clealry dealing with Trump is going to be on his terms, and only his terms. And dealing with the orange faced shotgibbon is the alternative to the sanity of the EU? Give me strength.

Financial settlement fall out

A quick few lines on the news that there may be a settlement between the EU and UK regarding the so-called divorce bill. It is worth noting that the settlement is the same sum of money that Britain would have paid if it had stayed in the EU. This is not a payment for leaving the EU, just what is already owed as a result of being a member and agreements in funding existing projects.

It is possible that the figure will be less than the £50 billion quoted, as the amount due to be paid depends on how well, or poorly, the British economy does in the next few years. And that is the expectation, yes, that Brexit will shrink the economy.

If there is to be an extension or transition deal, then that would have to be paid for, on top of this payment. And the amount will probably be much higher for using the SM and CU on worse terms than we have as full members. As this is the reality of Brexit.

On top of this, May has to sell this to her Party and Parliament. That this was supposed to be saving Britain money, and has not saved a penny yet, shows the sheer folly of Brexit. If her party does not back her, and decides to embark on regicide, then who would take over as leader, who would want to under these circumstances? I suspect the usual suspects would run a mile as having to deal with the mess they created.

This evening, the EU reiterated its position on EU rights and the issue of the Irish border. Rights should be able to be sorted, or to a point where sufficient progress is deemed to have been made. But Ireland. Refusing to move on as a result of either of these issues will mean an almost certain no deal scenario. Even if they do move on, the simple fact that there is not enough time to negotiate such a complex trade deal in ten months. Even if they met every day for 24 hours a day, just not enough time.

And it all needs ratification.

As for Britain and Ireland, there is a basic misunderstanding by British politicians of what the current situation is, that Ireland is looking after its, and its citizen's interests in insisting there is no border. It still comes to the fact that there has to be no border under the terms if the Good Friday Agreement, and yet if there is no deal, under WTO rules there has to be a border at the edges of the Eurozone. How to reconcile that? No deal will mean hard border and the trouble that may potentially bring.

Tuesday 28th November 2017

Where does the time go?

It is the end of the month, nearly, and we rush towards the 50 blogs for the month and this will be the 434th blog of the year, the most in any year ever. I guess maybe a hundred are Brexit blogs, which you may or may not read. I don't have the stomach to read the ones from a year ago, as the pain of the current mess is all too much if I'm honest. But what with little travel in the 2nd half of the year, more time to ponder this mess and how the brexiteers struggle with the closing in walls of reality. If I thought for a minute that it was all going to end happily ever after, I might enjoy the daily trails May and co are having with the reality of their situation, and one of their own making.

Still, got to laugh.

Tuesday

Another day in paradise. Or working from home, which amounts to the same thing, right?

Not much changes from day to day, just we get closer to the weekend, which is something to look forward to, but then I seem to be wishing my days away.

At least it was a brighter day, and I amuse myself by filling the feeder out in the back garden, and then standing in the kitchen drinking my second coffee watching the magpies fight over the food. Not in a bad way, but most waiting in turn to get access to the peanuts and shredded fat. They make short work of the cup of food I put out, so I can drag myself away from the back window and begin working.

Much the same as Monday to be honest. Breakfast at half eight, lunch of baked beans on cheesy toast for dinner, and then regular tea breaks. And breaks when Molly just sits beside the computer staring at me until I pick her up, or sometimes she just walks over the keyboard. She's a cat and it's her job.

In the afternoon with my biorhythms (are they still a thing?) getting low, I go out to plant some daffodils that have been hanging around the kitchen for a few weeks and needed planting. My word, its parky outside, especially after three days in the house. A robin comes to oversea my work in case I find some juicy worms. I don't, but I get my hands dirty and I have done something more to make the garden look splendid once the spring comes. It is a very odd year, as many spring flowers are already in flower; I have seen shots of primroses and wood anemones in flower, as well as some summer and autumn flowers still clinging on. It is proper cold now though, frosts at night and short chilly days. But in about eight weeks the first of the proper spring flowers, snowdrops should start to be in flower, and the madness of orchids will just be around the corner once again.

Bob and Diane have two tons of blue slate chips delivered, so I snap the forklift carrying the bags up their drive. It was the most exciting thing of the day.

But for now we have short, dull and cold days, where it gets dark at three in the afternoon, and there is the long period until Jools comes back home.

In the evening there is football on the radio, I listen to the footy, edit some shots and write. And the day fades. Not much excitement in the football, but, its football. We also discuss next year's holiday, which we agreed we would not have one. But then it's our tenth anniversary, and thoughts got to Tuscany. Hmmmmm, Tuscany.

Further mum update

This is fresh off the presses.

I got a call this morning at about ten from Sheila saying Mum had called her stating that she (Mum) was to be discharged from the hospital, and with a list of tasks for poor Sheila to do. This came as a shock to me, as on Monday I had been told by the nurses on her ward there was no talk of discharge.

So I call the hospital, speak to the ward sister, and then the next one up in the chain of command; staff nurse? Anyways, I explain the situation, that Mum needs to have her house assessed, needs a care plan, that she cannot walk to her own bins to take rubbish out.

I'll get a call back I was told.

Mum might be going to be discharged, but not today, and probably not tomorrow. She has to have a blood test and a consultant will make the decision. A care package is in place, and it turns out that her house was assessed yesterday, and a huge toilet seat installed, so Mum does not have to use her arms to pull herself up.

But, it became clear that there was concern in the therapist's words, and she said that Mum really did not push herself too hard. I had to say I have had my issues with her, and in my view she has always embraced disability as her range of movement got less and less. Rather than fighting against age and restricted movement, she bought things to make her life easier; a grabber to pick stuff up from the floor, and so on.

Once Mum leaves hospital, there will be a care package, people will visit three times a day, half an hour each, to dress/undress her, make breakfast and dinner. But once she is out of hospital, it will be up to her to be able to look after herself; there is only so much the hospital and NHS can do. Once out, she will have to deal with her issues, but we know that Mum will call Sheila, or get her neighbours to take her rubbish out, or take her to Asda or Tesco. How long this is sustainable, I don't know. But if she can't shower herself, then the reality is she should not be living alone in that or any house.

No one can force her to change, and she doesn't have to. But any slip into her old ways will have consequences for me and our relationship. I hope she is still in hospital on Friday when we go up, so we can have these words once again before she is out, and the risks she is taking.

In the end, the hospital needs the bed,a nd there is nothing else that can be done, but who will look after her, other than Sheila, her neighbors and us. How quickly things have changes is a shock, but I feel less certain now that even two heart attacks, open heart surgery is enough to make this leopard change her spots.

Hello reality, my old friend

I have said many times in these posts, that the walls of reality were closing in on the Brexiteers and the PM. Last night it emerged that an agreement had been reached between the UK and the EU regarding the so called divorce settlement, or the financial settlement. Depending on which report or newspaper you read, the amount might differ, but it is in the area of £60 billion. It is important to point out that this is the same amount that would have been paid if Britain had stayed in the EU, so its not actually any new money being paid, just what during its time as a member of the EU Britain had agreed to fund.

Of course, Brexiteers have maintained that the money would not have to be paid, so that could be "spent" elsewhere, but the EU was never going to agree with that. Britain could have refused to pay, but then there would not have been a possibility of an agreement about trade, the EU would have just shut down talks. And the loss of trade for British businesses would end up being far more than £60 billion of course; so the choice was pay now or pay later.

This deal has to be "sold" to her party and Parliament, and it might be rejected, by those who don't think any money should be paid, and those who think paying this amount to make Britain poorer is pretty dumb. Which it is.

There is the final problem, that if there is indeed a deal and the EU have accepted it, will trade talks be able to start? Ireland have said without concrete assurances on the border need to be made by UK. But the effect of blocking talks at this point will mean an almost inevitable "no deal" scenario, as time really would be running out to go through this all again/ Not to say the border issue needs to be fixed, it does, so the stakes are high, and getting higher.

Today DD should appear before Parliament, or at least the Select Committee to explain yesterday's fiasco with the impact assessments, and Boris de Piffel Johnson might be charged under the Ministerial Code for misleading Parliament over the £350 million a week savings that he repeated this week.

Always interesting, and frightening too.

Monday 27th November 2017

Pay Day (Jelltex)

And it is Monday.

As it is the end of November, it is cold and night and cool during the day. There are frosts every morning now, and cold when we get up and before the keating kicks in.

Jools is up and about before I am. I lay in bed and hear her making her lunch, but once the gas is lit I know there is 5 minutes before coffee is ready, so I get up.

There is a couple of hours before i need to start work, so after checking the news online, I go to sit on the sofa and watch the highlights of Sunday's games. All the while, Jools is getting ready for work, and outside dawn is coming. In fact the sun doesn't rise about the dip now until twenty to eight, or would do it it wasn't raining.

The low dark clouds and steady rain meant that it didn't get fully light, light enough to turn the table lamp off until gone nine.

A typical working day, mails, meetings, phone calls, stops for brews, lunch at half eleven.

The rain had stopped, but it is very damp and cold, much better to just look out the window as I nurse a fresh brew.

The cats being asking for dinner just after one. So put some kibbles out for them, and it satisfies them. A little. See, I say that working from home is dull. A fresh brew is something to look forward to!

Come three in the afternoon and all the plans I had for work lay in tatters and so I fill the calendar for tomorrow with the jobs I should have done today. As is usual.

There is still more party food for dinner; the last of what I got on Friday, but it does mean unpacking it all, popping it on a baking tray and cooking for ten or so minutes. Jools comes home and we open a cider or beer, and sit down to discuss our underwhelming days.

The evening is more of the usual; radio, editing shots and drinking tea. Its not rock and roll, and then by eight we are yawning, but try to stay up until ten.

On top of everything else, there is to be a Royal Wedding. I mean, really BBC, was this the biggest news story of the day anywhere in the world? Each news bulletin, this gets 90% of the time, and the rest of the woes in the world gets a brief mention. I don't hate the royals, but see no point in them in the 21st century. And when there are tens of thousands starving and living on the streets, or working people needing food banks, that we keep this one family in gilded cages, and then it emerges that the Queen invests via offshore companies in credit companies that prey on the poorest in society.

Mum update

Mum gets a post all of her own, as depending on what I think of her and her situation, really, enough is enough and the old girls should be let home soon. But, as in most things, life has other ideas.

First the good news: her C Diff infection is under control now, and the ward is very happy with her progress. She is in a different room now, one not at the end of a corridor through two sets of double doors, but still on her own. She is upbeat, which is good, as she thinks she can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Only she lost her voice yesterday. Nothing to worry about, but no transfer back to Ward 2 again. And the discharge she hear mention at the end of last week was just discharge from ward 16, not from hospital. That kind of decision might still be weeks away, with the real possibility of her being in hospital over Christmas, which will then be over three months away from home.

Plans are afoot for our next trip back to Suffolk, although the need for that joint trip have now receded, one of us will have to go on Friday.

She is more mobile, but even with that, there is no guarantee she will be ever fit enough to live in her own house again. Her occupational therapist will make that decision in due course. If it is deemed sh cannot live in her house, then she will not be allowed to leave hospital until a place is found in a home. What we can say is that each day that decision gets closer, and if she does go home, then once the care package runs out, what will she be able to do for herself? No one really knows, least of all Mum. We all kid ourselves as to what we are really like.

Come Friday I should have a more accurate picture on what the next few days and weeks have in store. This one could run and run.

Assessing the impact of the impact assessments

I could go into great and lengthy details about how David Davis and his department at first claimed that the 58 (more or less) impact assessments on 85% (or more) of the UK economy, and how they were being compiled and then completed. At every turn he said they would be complete for the A50 notification was sent. Do we take him for an idiot, seemed to be his thought process here.

Then as the summer turned to autumn, it turned out that no one had really read the assessments, nor even the summaries. And every attempt by Parliament to get access to them was denied.

At the beginning of this month, someone came up with a brilliant and ancient and long forgotten Parliamentary Procedure that could not be ignored, forcing DD to release the assessments. Only they did not exist in the form the honourable members requested, it was claimed.

So, we have 58 impact assessments that went into great detail that did and did not exist. And yesterday the Department for Exiting the EU had to hand over what they had. All of it. 850 pages in two box files, and that was it.

Parliament was not impressed, and it is possible that the Government, or DD at least, is in contempt of Parliament and the instruction was not complied with, much was redacted or left out.

There are possibilities; that the assessments were so bad they releasing them would be embarrassing and would potentially force Parliament to instruct the Government to stop. or try to. Or worse, that the assessments never really existed and DD and the Government were winging it.

DD did not have the guts to attend the Commons himself to explain the situation, which did not help matters. In the past, being found in contempt of Parliament would mean being taken to a cell under Big Ben. The thought of seeing DD being carted off in chains is a pleasant one, but probably will not happen.

The Government might ask for a new motion to be raised, but as this one was not complied with, and as the Government has decided not to challenge and motion in the House it might lose, it did not challenge this, so really has no procedural or legal leg to stand on.

Of course the argument being trotted out is revealing too much might be leaked and used by the EU. That the SU knows about the UK economy and knows how much we would lose by leaving, is laughable, and yet many Brexiteers and newspapers use the poker analogy. Don't let the other side see your cards. But they can see our cards, this is foolish. As all through the Brexit process, the aim has been to keep Parliament and the electorate in the dark about the effect it would have. Why bother with the truth when it is all sunlit uplands and having cake and eating it.

Next month the Government finds out how difficult things can be when a "small" country, Ireland, has the backing of 26 others and will not budge on allowing talks to progress onto trade. This is what the EU is about, strength in numbers and staying together as a group. And Brexit is the cause that now unites Europe, and it is a lesson that May and DD have yet to accept. Forcing Brexit on a once divided and partially united island, forcing it apart, building a border between the two halves because no one realised the cause and effect of what they were proposing. Even now, Ireland is blamed rather than accepting the truth that either NI stays in at least the SM or there has to be a hard border. Not out of petty spite or punishment, but because its the way the WTO operates.

The next few days is going to be very interesting. As the whole process has been.

Sunday 26th November 2017

It is rare to have both days of a weekend be blessed with such good weather at this time of the year. But this was such a weekend, and after spending Saturday shopping and listening to the football and snoozing. Sunday was going to be very different, heck, I was even willing to delay watching MOTD until later in the day, maybe even Monday!

But there has to be bacon.

So I rustle up bacon butties, made with lots of crispy smoked streaky rashers, as should be the way. I am turning into a Dane, I swear.

Once the sun is above the other side of the dip, warm rays of glorious winter sunshine pour through into the kitchen. I make Jools', then grill mine, just to the point of perfect crispiness, washed down with a fresh brew. Then, once dressed we are ready to go out.

We know of so many fine places for a walk, which one to choose? Well, as Jools said she also wanted to have ice cream, and the best two places we know of are both in Herne Bay. So if we were to walk at East Blean, then it was a short drive afterwards into the town for ice cream. And being before nine in the morning, we could take the shortest route through Canterbury out to Sturry and then up the downs towards the north coast.

Canterbury was pleasantly quiet, we were round the inner ring road and through the retail parks and out towards Stuffy, and happily enough being stopped at the level crossing to see a RHTT pass through. Train! The up through a couple of small villages, before turning off to East Blean.

East Blean is best known for the successful campaign to save on of the country's rarest butterflies, the Heath Fritillary. None there this time of the weekend, just long muddy paths through ankle deep drifts of yellow and orange leaves. Always on the lookout for fungi and/or photographic opportunities.

We wander along, not really knowing where we were going, just following signs heading further and further from the car park.

We meet a few people on the way, but mostly there was just the two of us, just out enjoying the morning, looking at the birds, fungi, trees and stuff.

Back at the car I find I have managed to stand in some dogs eggs. I say back at the car, it was in the car driving to Herne Bay that I discovered, thanks to the smell. But hey, its the countryside and all that.

In Herne Bay we park near to one of the ice cream parlours, but instead of eating there, we walk down the prom, past the harbour, empty of water due to the low tide. At the old bandstand, there is a cafe and parlour situated in it, and it was there that we ordered our ice creams: Jools has a hot cherry sundae, and I have some chocolate one with an Oreo cookie in it.

When they arrive, both are huge, as their size had been doubled by the use of a can of spray cream. We were never going to finish them, but the chap on the next table was interested to see if we would. He chided us for only eating half, but it turns out that ice cream at half ten in the morning isn't such a good idea.

We leave our half full/empty sundaes and walk to the pier. Or what's left of it, as most was swept away years ago, and half a mile off shore, the head of it sits forlorn, now just a seabird roost.

We walk back to the car, and make our way back to Dover along the Thanet Way, then across the marshes to Preston, Sandwich to Whitfield where we had hoped to see Jen, but she wasn't in, so instead we go home for coffee and a lie down due to a case of acute ice cream poisoning.

Of course there was football on the radio, and on the i player. I struggle to stay awake watching Chelsea and Liverpool battle out a 1-1 draw.

Dinner was to be Boston Ribs; a new thing at the butcher. A bone in rib eye, huge too, a good couple of inches thick, and even if cooked rare took at least four minutes each side. Once cooked and served with garlic mushrooms and fried potatoes, and was amazing. Huge, obviously. But the steak was huge, enough for two meals, but I made it vanish. Although it would require some sitting on the sofa lolling at the TV. What with it being a Robot Wars night, no worries there.

And again, that was your weekend, all gone.

Reality still closing in.

Yesterday, the International Trade Minister, the disgraced former Defence Secretary, Liam Fox, said that talks on the Irish Border should be delayed until it is known what the actual trade agreement will be. I really don't know where to start with this one, as it is so fundamentally stupid, one would think it a spoof. But he really did go on TV and state this. You will know that Britain agreed to the EU timetable in which the three basic issues, trade rights and the Irish border and further talks would be depending on the EU agreeing that "sufficient progress" to have been made. Now, I know you know this, and you certainly know that I know this, so how could it be that a senior minister of the crown could be so clueless?

It is Liam Fox, of course.

Ireland have now hardened their stance and have stated they will veto any further movement on talks unless they receive a written guarantee that there will be no hard border between the Republic and NI.

Arlene Phillips is up in arms stating that nothing should get in the way of the precious Brexit, and there would be no border.

Today, Kate Hoey joined in screaming on breakfast radio on Radio 4 that if there was to be a border, then Ireland would have to pay for it.

Let's take this slowly: WTO rules, the very organisation that Brexiteers claim will free us from trade regulation with the EU will insist that the border is there. If not, a trade dispute will be triggered, and being in such a pickle as we try to forge new deals with the same countries who will object is not the cleverest course of action. And having no import checks or tariffs on the NI side of the border won't work either, as there are agreements; we would have to treat all members of the WTO, meaning no checks or tariffs at any border from any member of the WTO.

Brexiteers scream how unfair this is, that Britain should be be threatened by a "small" country like Ireland. But this is what life outside the EU will be, and progress and ratification of any deal will mean any of the EU27 can veto or block the deal.

And finally the reality is any talks on trade between DD and Michael Barnier will be political talks. Meaning that there is no basis under WTO or trade law that the EU has to keep to those agreements. The actual working agreement won't begin until after Britain leaves. But I'm sure Fox and Hoey know this as well. Or there will be trouble when they find out.

Turns out Brexit was a lot more complex than the simple process the Brexteers would believe and have us believe.

Saturday 25th November 2017

One shopping month until Christmas.

The first frost if the season.

We are still sleeping at half six when the heating switches on I get u to switch it off, but only manage to turn it from the clock to continuous. So, I lay awake waiting for the pump tio stop pushing the hot water round the house, which it doesn't. So, I get up and am surrounded by three cats who all try to tell me how darned hungry they are.

Even before making coffee, my thoughts are of the chores for the day, which is mainly shopping. I wanted some of those lush Belgian beers I got so used to enjoy earlier this year, and thought that Sainsbury's might be a good place to look. So with Jools having a shower, I grab a bag and after putting on my coat and shoes, I drive to Deal in the morning light to see what they had. Saying that, I was livind by the time I got there, as many drivers had failed to put their lights on, and were apparently driving by brail.

I arrive safely, not sure if they do> I mean I can hardly see them, and they must see how bright lights on cars like mine must seem? Are they stupid?

I go into the shop and buy several ciders for Jools, but I find no beers that I fancy, and they had a few. I go to pay via the self service check out that there was only the one teller on duty, and there was a queue of four people with leaden trolleys.

I drive back home with it nearly being fully light, it was now half seven and the sun had risen in the east, but hidden by low clouds. Back home to unload the car and then set out for Tesco for the usual shopping suspects.

There is a new Lidl nearly finished near Tesco, Homebase has been bought out and will reopen under a new name, the new Sports Centre will open in the new year and there are several new shops near to the KFC. All these take business from the centre of town, and this will only get worse. But hey, shopping.

Tesco is quiet at quarter past eight, we get the things we need for the month, mostly cat food if I'm honest. But mincemeat for mince pies, frozen puff pastry for sausage rolls. And so on.

Back home by nine for croissants and coffee and then it was time for me to go out for more shopping. Tis time to the butchers in Preston, mainly to place the order for Christmas. By now the forecasted day of endless sunshine was overdue, but as I drove from Dover to Sandwich and then inland to the former inland sea of the Wantsum Channel, the clouds cleared, and so was a fine and very cold day indeed.

They have a new car park outside, and it is full. Inside there is a queueu, but allowing time for us to look at what is on sale, and my eyes are drawn to a row of steaks called Boston Ribs. I think I may have found the solution to Sunday's dinner.

I place the order for Christmas; nothing too surprising if I'm honest, but we had thought maybe Jen would want us round, but it seems there will be no Christmas in Whitfield.

Finally I get food for the rest of the week and freezer, and say I will see them all bright and early on Christmas Eve in 29 days! Eeek!

I drive back home in the bright low sunshine, driving south difficult as eyes were looking right into the sun. But I arrive home safe and sound to find Jools still busy from chores around the house. But we are both nearly done for the day. I mean we could have gone out to do some stuff, but the week has been hard for us both, so we decide to chill out with Huey on the radio, before having some insalata for lunch. Which brings me to the vinegar incident:

Forever to be remembered as the caramalised balsamic vinegar day.

It all came as the restaurant we went to on Thursday served up balsamci with no bitter or harsh aftertaste; when I asked they told me they caramalised theirs.

So, I like a challenge, so bought a small bottle and set about caramalising it. I found a recipe, thought that had too much sugar,, but with a ratio of 3:1 vinegar to sugar, I set about reducing the vinegar before adding the sugar.

I poured it into a bottle once reduced, and it was like magma.

I put the bottle in the fridge to cool, hoping we could use it for lunch. Half an hour later, I thought I would see how thick it was.

I had forgotten that I took the lid off the bottle in case the steam coming off the gloop caused the glass to crack. So I picked up the bottle and shook it.

A large globule of vinegar landed on my hand, so hot it did not hurt at first. I did realise it would soon smart, and it did.

And being well reduced, it did not pour off, it just stayed attached to my hand, and it began to burn.

Hand under the tap, which did begin to wash the vinegar off and cool my hand down. And after that I held the cold pack for muscle pain until it thawed out, but which point my nerves had stopped screaming.

After all that, the vinegar was too thick to pour, so was useless. It went in the bin, as I waited for my skin to peel.

Silly billy.

As the afternoon went on the pain subsided, and soon I had forgotten I had done it, but my goodness that did hurt for a while.

At three there is football on the radio, and I struggle to stay awake, so take to the sofa and I think I may have dozed for half an hour. By that time Norwich were 1--0 up, but it didn't last and Preston pulled level in the 2nd, so ended a draw, and no wins in 7 games at home for City.

Bah!

I cook yet more party food in the evening. It is easy enough, a plateful each of bite sized Indian snacks. It also means little washing up.

Jools goes upstairs to watch Hinterland on her laptop, and I watch Rick Stein in Mexico, where 90% of food is cooked, laced with salsa, guacamole and put into a taco. I mean, no nattler how good the ingredients are, there are only so many variants.

Not much else to say about Saturday. Sore hand, a draw and more party food.

Friday 24th November 2017

And we have made it my friends, the weekend is just around the corner, and we just have to deal with Friday and the two and a half days off is ours. Mine would be beginning a couple of hours early as we have an appointment at the bank in town later, but for now, you know, the usual stuff.

I should not be tired, but feel worn down by the week. I think I have an easy day ahead, I did the travel expenses the previous day, as the finance department had threatened to block my card, so would not be able to travel. My boss gave me a gentle warning.

There is time to register, and mails to reply to, meetings to arrange, and one final meeting, during which a bomb was dropped. As the implications sunk in, I had to leave as the taxi I had booked was waiting outside. Because even in 2017, banks keep their own opening times, closing at half three, and getting there before closing time meant not enough time for Jools to come home to pick me up; hence the taxi. I always use the same company, and all their drivers know our house with the level crossing sign outside.

The driver is in a good mood, even though business is slack; in a month it will be Christmas and times will be booming.

He drops me off at M&S, I have decided to buy some party food before meeting up with Jools. I have ten minutes, so find what I want. Or think I want. And then on another aisle I find more. Should I put the other stuff away or just buy more? I buy more.

Jools is waiting outside the bank. Not our bank, but Mum's. We are hoping to get power of attorney, so can pay bills for her and so on. We are showed into an office, and we go through the five pages of the form we have filled in. We get to the last part, I sign, and it all seems fine. And then the manager says, you have filled in the wrong form. Or the bank has provided us with the wrong form. And anyway, for this someone from the bank would have to be present when she signed, so they could be sure of Mum's state of mind and intention.

There is no other thing we can do than to arrange to be at the hospital next Friday, when the manager from her local branch will be at the hospital and then we go through it all again. It means another day off work, travel to and back from Suffolk. We should be angry, but what's the point?

We leave the bank and I go round the edge of the St James Development to take the latest shots of work as it all nears completion. In a few months we will have a cinema, new restaurants and shops. But others will close, and the HIgh Street with wither further. Is this progress?

We go home as darkness falls, the weekend had arrived. And we had a bag full of party food.

Back home we put the radio on for the Friday Free for All, and get in the mood. Mum calls, and she is in good spirits, and if things stay the same with her, preparations will begin on Monday for her return to home. She is concerned as well as happy, as this will be a real test then, to see if she can really look after herself. But she says she is walking further and further, and is doing well. I hope so.

I cook a couple of packs of the party food, crack open a beer, and in ten minutes we are eating away, in good spirits.

Due to football, there is no Only Conect, and Monty has put his trowel away for the winter, so a quiet night, early to bed. And ready for the weekend in the morning.

Fake Brexit news

Friday was memorable, for the Murdock sock puppet, Michael "Pob" Gove, bemoaning the amount of fake news on social media. This is clearly because how honestly the press and most of the television media have been treating Brexit. And this coming from the man, who said, when confronted by expert analysis of how bad Brexit would be, that "people have had enough of experts". And let us not forget that he wants to be Chacellor, his wfe works for the Daily Hate Mail and he is in the pay of Murdoch. Yes, this is the state of politics in 2017 Brexitlalaland.

I will take this point to remind you that Brexit, aka the United Kingdom leaving the European Union under the terms of Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty, is a purely European Union legal process. Any change to this and the terms of the Article 50 process must be done under the terms of it and the European Parliament, the EU27 and the UCJ.

Talks cannot progress to the next stage of negotiations until, in the EU27's agreement, "sufficient progress" has been made in the three basic issues: money, rights and the Irish Border. Money and rights should have been the easiest of the three. Maybe agreement on the financial settlement might make the EU27 agree to move onto trade, Ireland doesn't think so, and they have the right to veto talks.

Micheal Barnier has been selected, briefed and directed by the EU27 to negotiate on their behalf. He will not go outside their direction, and reports on a regular basis to them. In the unlikely event he agrees with Britain something outside his terms of reference, a deal can be rejected by the EU27 during the ratification process.

The ratification process will take at least 6 months, meaning any deal in Brexit will have to be completed by the end of September 2018. Ten months time.

Each of the parliaments of the EU27 HAS to ratify the deal.

The EU Parliament has to ratify the deal.

The ECJ has to ratify the deal.

Failure to ratify the deal by any of the above will mean Britain exits the EU with no deal.

Whether Britain, Parliament or the British people ratify the deal is irrelevant. Brexit is under EU law, not British.

No one in Britain can stop Brexit. Only by agreement with the EU27 can it be paused, extended or stopped.

Even if trade talks begin in December, nine months to agree a trade framework, mediation process, agreement on standards, documentation and so on, is impossible to complete in nine months. It is almost certain, that even if talks go well, only the basic issues will be talked about, let alone agreed upon.

And all of the trade details would also have to be ratified as detailed above, failure to ratify in any of the above parliaments or institutions would result in no deal.

If it is proven that there was Russian interference in the referendum, this would have no effect in the referendum result, nor cause there to be a legal reason for a re-run. The referendum was advisory only, but the Government has taken it as mandatory. Brexit is taking place under a EU legal framework, the trigger was the notification sent by May on 29th March 2017.

That Britain was not ready, had not identified risks, worked out how to overcome them is purely Britain's fault. Brexit was never going to be easy or simple.

Without a bespoke deal on the Irish border, at 23:00 on 29th March 2019, a "hard" border will have to exist between the Republic and NI as a matter of EU law. For this to happen either NI will have to remain in the SM, Ireland leave either the EU or SM, Brexit be stopped, or some other deal regarding trade be agreed and ratified. NO is already "different" from the rest of Britain in that areas like abortion and, indeed, border trade.

Wanting Brexit and there to be a "frictionless" border means staying in the SM or CU. Otherwise it is impossible. Anyone telling you otherwise is either lying or doesn't know what they are talking about. Or both.

In other news the last two weeks you might have missed (and tanks to @37paday for these):

the Government wins a vote to repeal the European Communities Act (which gives effect to EU law in the UK) even though the Maybot has said EU law will apply for at least a 2 year transition after we leave.

Gov proposes legislating the day Brexit will happen even though it will happen in March 2019 automatically (unless UK & EU agree to extend it - but then UK may be stuck because legislating Brexit day may prevent the option of extending negotiations even if we want to do so).

David Davis tells the EU not to put politics above prosperity.

David David says bankers will get special free movement exemptions but Grimsby which voted 70% leave now wants an exemption for fish exports to the EU (but won't get one)

hard Brexiter John Redwood tells investors to move money from the UK to the EU

EU helps Liam Fox out by stepping into help UK on Bombardier tariff dispute

the Maybot tells Russia to stop interfering in western democracies (but no mention of the U.K. obvs)

the Government still won't release their Brexit impact assessments in contempt of Parliament. Luckily the EU has published their own which are available on their website

the Government said they don't want a hard border in Ireland but don't get that leaving the customs union means a hard border and will mess up the Good Friday Agreement

Home Affairs Committee warned that by leaving the customs union Operation Stack will happen on a bigger scale. In 2015 Kent County Council estimated it cost the economy £250m a day. The Government said the solution will be to park lorries in the middle lanes of the M20

The Maybot said positive talks were held in Brussels today but it was not immediately clear whether she was repeating her internal pep talk or had offered tangible solutions

A spokesman said on Northern Ireland there was a need for an innovative solution but did not clarify how much jam would be involved

The Maybot again warned the EU of Russian attempts to destabilise Europe ignoring the impact of Brexit and the role of Russia in that

Gove and BOJO 🤡 have combined to persuade the Maybot that we do not need regulatory convergence. They were unaware that this is not 1875 and the UK does not set global rules

The US, China and EU are the biggest markets and set the rules

Gove warned of the bad effect of social media on news and decision making but neglected to highlight his view of experts or that he is paid by Murdoch while a cabinet minister

Meanwhile the Times and Telegraph carried articles by the Legatum Institute saying we should not scrutinise Legatum but should agree with its Brexit proposals

the links between Legatum and Vote Leave are unclear but I guess we should trust a distaster capitalist funded organisation

and ignore the impact it may have had on elections and Government policy. After all the will of the people and all that

oh and to wrap up Liam Fox had another go at UK business for not exporting enough and moaning how it does not matter how many deals he does if the lazy fucks are lazy fucks

He ignored that the UK is now the 6th largest economy, exports to the EU had been growing and the EU did not stop UK business trading globally

Final thought for the weekend - if we wanted control of our borders why is the Maybot adamant there will be no hard border with the UK's only land border with the EU

Thursday 23rd November 2017

Independance Day (USA)

54th Anniversary of the assassination of JFK

54th birthday of Dr. Who

54th birthday of Jools Jelltex. (UK)

As is the case on such a day, Jools gets up with the alarm and I sleep on. And on until I can smell the coffee brewing, and so that brings me to the land of the living.

"Happy Birthday" I shout. Thanks, Jools calls back.

I come down, we buy each other no cards or presents, I mean we have all we need. Time is already slipping by and she goes up for a shower and to get ready for work, while I drink coffee and check on the world, and its no surprise to find its still going to hell in a handcart.

Jools leaves, and I put the bins out before starting work at twenty past seven, in case I missed something important the evening before when the laptop was updating. No, nothing too pressing, just prepare for the weekly complaining session. Which calls for more coffee.

From the bangers and mash the night before, there was some mash and a single banger left, so before the meeting, I fry both up until both were hot and crispy, and so was in good spirits for the meeting.

And so the day continues, work piling up and me looking at the chaos on Twitter as the Brexiteers try to make sense of reality. It is messy and will get worse. Would be funny too, if it wasn't going to make us all a lot poorer.

At three I go for a walk to clear my nose, an allergy attack had been threatening to build. So over the fields to Fleet House to look at the bright ornage and yellow leaves in the late afternoon sunshine, contrasting against the clear blue sky. It was fabulous, but chilly. I turn for home.

The day passes and soon afternoon comes and the thought that we are going to be going out for dinner, what with it being Jools' birthday and all that. Jools arrives home at half five, or just gone, and then her brother arrives to deliver a card and wine. Must be for Jools as the wine is white. We talk over brews about Tony and the fall out. And of our health, aches and pains. Seems we are all getting older.

He leaves at half six, leaving us with little time to get ready. I forgo the tux and just pull on my fleece over the t shirt; Jools does something similar and we are good to go. The plan had been to wander round the edge of the new St James development and me to take snaps, but we had run out of time and my heart wasn't in it to be honest.

We just drive into town, park up and walk over the street to the restaurant where our table was waiting. I am a creature of habit, so have insalata caprese followed by penne with a spicy sauce. Nothing to complicated, but good proper food, and very good too. Jools has panna cotta and I have a Vin Santo, dipping the biscotti I got with my coffee into it, then sucking the sweet wine from the biscuit.

We have coffee and are done. I pay the bill and we swap thoughts on the future of the town and his business. Dover will become a border town again, maybe with opportunities for entrepreneurs. Or not, who knows.

I drive us home, back up Jubilee Way, where there is time to check on the football scores and world news before it is time for bed.

Brexit means Brexit. As always

Yesterday, it emerged that all British towns and cities that had applied to be the European City of Culture in 2023 we all told their applications were void as Britain was leaving the EU.

This enabled Brexiteers to crawl out of the woodwork to lambast the EU for being petty and tiny minded. But turns out that the Department for Culture, Media and Sport knew this two years ago, and let the towns and cities compete, spend money knowing that, in the PM's words, Brexit means Brexit. Turn out that as long as the country fits on one of the following criteria: EU, EFTA, EEA, joining EU, candidate for joining EU, seeking to be candidate to join EU, they can apply. But leaving the EU, no. Applications were only allowed as it was initially unclear as to what Britain wanted from Brexit.

Still doesn't really, but leaving the EU and the PM ruling out the Single Market and Customs Union, means Britain doesn't fit into any of the boxes.

Still, Brexit means Brexit, eh?

There is a possibility that the EU might accept the £40 billion that May is offering to trigger part 2 of the talks. That is if Ireland doesn't veto that, but let's assume that it is deemed that sufficient progress has been made, them talks can move onto trade. This is not as straightforward as it seems, as at this point, Britain; the PM, the Cabinet, the Government, Parliament and the country as a whole has to decide what it is exactly that is wanted. It is a simple case of trade and control. Put simply, the more you have of one, the less you have of the other. And then when it comes to trade, is it the EU or America that Britain wants to deal with, as their imposition of regulations will make trade with the other much harder.

The big Brexit lie. Or one of the biggest Brexit lies is about EU red tape. The truth is that free trade areas, like the EU, is about the removal of red tape and regulation to smooth trade between member countries as simple, cheap and efficient as possible. Any free trade area will have the same objectives, and it this that most international trade is moving towards. Dreaming and saying that both is possible is a lie, a lie that will be revealed. There is no cake and eating it. As once you eat the cake, it is gone.

Reality is closing in, the EU cares more about the Irish border issue that Westminister, that sees no problem in imposing a fudge on a divided country, when NI voted to remain. Ireland will be the issue that makes or breaks Brexit, and there is no easy solution. Earlier today, a Downing Street spokesperson seemed to suggest that NI staying in the SM a possibility, that did not last an hour until it issued a clarification.

What there is no doubt about, is that if no solution is found, a hard border will be imposed on Ireland at 23:00 on 29th March 2019. And at the moment, that looks the most likely outcome, with whatever effect that might have on NI and the Republic.

Wednesday 22nd November 2017

Each day I work from home, I think about how I am going to describe the tedium of a day at work. I mean, not much changes, just the tiny detail, but the general details: mails, documents, phone calls, breakfast, lunch, cats, weather. Are about the same day in, day out.

As I often say, I'm not working in the chicken factory, standing at the end of the pennine tunnel waiting for the next row of chilled chickens to be dropped then racked up. I did that for a year. The packed the trussed and wrapped chickens. Another year, eighteen months went by. There was a tannoy which played Radio 1, and so the day flew by during the Golden Hour, then crawled by during Our Tune and Woo Gary Davis, but it was the soundtrack of our day, and on the days the tannoy broke, the dullness without pop music, on Medium Wave being piped through a crappy tannoy was better than nothing. Well, except Steve Wright maybe.

The music has changed, now comes in down the copper wire of the interwebs or through the TV aerial, but still music, and the BBC too. Lunch is taken at a leisurely pace at the table, listening to a podcast or something, reading the Brexit chaos on Twitter or something. Coffee breaks are taken when I want, and not when the line stops. Yes, all in all life is better now. I'll put the kettle on!

There is the usual stuff to day as ever, you know; cats, coffee, breakfast, more coffee, start work. At leas with my new laptop, work has returned to humdrum normality, with no need to keep rebooting until Outlook worked. Saying that, this laptop does not like to create PDFs out of Word docs. Might be a 1st world Quality Manager's problem, but it is real. I have to send docs out and let people create their own PDFs. I call it the DIY Office 365. I have no idea why, and to be honest is only a minor issue so I ignore it.

After lunch I have a man come round to see about a path. Steve and Martin have let us down once too many times. I know Steve has been ill, but if you promise to turn up, and fail to do so, twice, then we look for alternatives.

We are not fussy, but want it done cheap as chips, so the guy offers some alternatives to the granite blocks: one pound fifty a pop those. So, he will get back to me at some point. And that really is the exciting part of the day.

My boss calls and we are talking, and a dialogue box appears on the computer screen; something about an update. I ignore it as I am always asked when installing an update is convenient. I log off the call, and the computer switches itself off, and starts again, telling me that it is installing a Windows update, and might switch itself on and off a few times.

I wait, do some editing, do some writing on my blog, make a brew. The laptop is still updating away.

An hour passes.

Another hour passes.

THird hour goes by, surely it is done now? No.

It is done at half five in the afternoon, four hours after starting, anything that was urgent could wait for the next day.

Its bangers and mash and beans for dinner. One of JOols' favourite meals. Especially as I now put some horseradish in the mash.

And for the rest of the evening, I devoured the rest of The Book of Dust until just before ten it was read. And enjoyed. There was football on the radio, but it went unlistened. Who will think of the footballers and commentators? Not I.

Remember the bus

You might recall, or at least the Brits among you will, the Brexit bus, festooned with a slogan saying, we send £350 a week to the EU, why not fund the NHS instead?

Well, today was the budget, and the chancellor stood and told lies for a couple of hours, then May and Corbyn argued like school kids over what was said and not said. One of the things to take away from the budget this year is that Hammond has promised £3 billion extra funding for Brexit preparations, but only £2.8 billion for the NHS. The head of the NHS has already said that is not enough and will lead to longer waiting times and even treatment rationed.

On top of that, it turned out the Office of Budget Responsibility, on whose projections the Treasury uses to plan ahead, revealed that the Government had refused to provide it with any costs estimates relating to Brexit. That is, the entire budget was prepared and delivered without anyone knowing or guessing or revealing how much Brexit was going to cost and whether this would mean more and more borrowing.

This is now beyond madness, of course.

The Government also pledged £3.5 billion to help first time buyers by abolishing stamp duty (tax on buying property), helping 3,500 people, meaning that each first time buyer will have cost the taxpayer £924,285.71 each. Would could have built all of them a luxury home for that!

Last night, the Irish Government stated that the £40 billion that Britain hopes to unblock the Brexit negotiations will not be enough in itself, as there will have to be something concrete on the Irish Border issue. It is telling, that the one land border Britain, or the UK has with the EU is between the Republic and NI, you would have thought the Brexiteers, and the DUP in particular would have given some thought to how this would be dealt with, and getting angry at the Irish Government at protecting their interests helps no one.

I say again, Britain triggered Article 50 before it was ready, and before it had identified risks and how to overcome or minimise them. Official figures show the economy tanking, as Western World recovers from the 2008 recession, and the EU zone growth is increasing month on month. Britain has gone from the fast growing European economy to the slowest. In a year. Now, what could be the reason?

One last thought; is it just possible that May is trying to create a situation, any situation, that gives her reason to walk out of talks, which will result in the economy tanking, the government falling, and Brexit killed? Stanger things have happened, but I fear May is not that clever.

Tuesday 21st November 2017

Another working day, with the same start as ever. YOu know the drill by now.

There is the chance to stand and watch the sunrise again as Jools makes ready to leave for work, and I finish my coffee.

Days very quickly fall into a pattern; have breakfast, get dressed and log on to work just before eight. Deal with mails, taking breaks regularly for coffee and/or tea. Work through until about half eleven, take a break for lunch. This time half a left over fish cake roll, sprinkled with grated cheese and then drilled until golden and crispy. Another winner!

The cats watch me like a hawk, and on occasion bring me something to eat. And as usual it was just as I sat down for a three hour training session/meeting, that Molly brought in a mouse, still, alive, and she not to keen to drop it. In fact as I try to get the poor creature out, I see it still twitching, and Molly squeezing it more and more. I can hear the meeting going on, but I have a half dead mouse to deal with. I take it out into the garden and drop it into a flower bed, hoping it might pull through.

Molly is still looking to where the mouse might be, so I give her some kibbles and she is distracted and forgets about the mouse.

I go back to the meeting and immediately wish I was chasing a mouse again. Dear God.

The afternoon leaks away, and I find that having a mid-afternoon snack of cheese and crackers along with a glass of red wine make the meeting go by much better. Probably not the the best thing to do, especially if I was sitting face to face with the person giving the training.

Dinner is pizza, so I can watch some of an episode of Time Team, once work had finished. Thin crust pizza is so easy to cook, I don't have to do anything until Jools is home, and then pop them in the oven for ten minutes, and bingo! crispy pizza.

There is football on the wireless, and Norwich are playing too. Don't know why I bother as City slip to another 1-0 defeat and then Liverpool throw a 3-0 lead away at Seville. Not enough oranges at half time one suspects.

Anyway, another quiet day, and a day nearer the weekend/Christmas/retirement.

Why Brexit?

I thought I might take a few lines to explain why I blog about Brexit.

Well, Brexit is the largest single act of economic self-harm I can imagine. It defies logic, reason, and those who believe suffer no opposition, but will do anything to avoid an actual debate, resorting to nationalism in an attempt to silence the remoaners.

In truth, I will probably be OK. I work for a Danish company, travel will be difficult for a while, but my skill set now is in high demand, and through my employer, or self-employed I can work anywhere in the world doing this job. So, mortage will be paid, and as long as there is demand, I will be able to work. Our savings will suffer, affecting our pensions, but we have moved the risk to Europe rather than keeping our options in just Britain.

But in limiting opportunities for future generations, every aspect of what the Government is trying to do needs to be challenged. That is the biggest crime, and something our children and children's children will damn us for; how on earth did such a course of action be allowed to happen relatively unchallenged? The Conservative Party, the Labour Party, broadcasters, the media all have allowed the lies and untruths to go unchallenged, or allowed facts to be countered by lies, in the interest of balance.

Britain will be poorer, subdued, ugly and with much reduced influence. And as has happened already, we will turn on each other once there is no one else to blame.

I hate what my country has become, and fear what it will turn into once those sunlit uplands are full of unicorns and fairy tales like they always were. Reality will close in on Brexit, we will be trapped by it, as we already are, but reality will win out, there is no escaping it.

Even now as EU agencies are relocated, some Brexiteers are still claiming it will be a success. Maybe they even believe it. In the end, we will know what the truth is, because there is no escaping it.

Everything I have said about Britain not being able to stop or pause the A50 process is true, so that would be a gift of the EU27, but still the UK Parliament is arguing about getting a "meaningful" vote on the final deal, if there is one.

More rearranging deckchairs on the sinking Titanic.

And the Labour Party is next to useless, as given the opportunity of getting an amendment to the Brexit bill forcing the Government to ensure Britain stayed in the Single Market, the Labour front bench whipped the party into abstaining. Worse than useless.

Today, another spanner in the works, as Ireland said that there has to be a viable solution to the border with NI or there will be no talks on trade.

Brexit means Brexit.

Monday 29th November 2017

And again, just like that, the weekend was over. And along came Monday.

Monday, Monday, so much to answer for. Or something.

Which means that we do the usual stuff in the morning, all the while it is still dark outside. Even with coffee, its still Monday. I have to say I have not had this antipathy towards Monday for years, not since the chicken factory days.

Jools is up and ready to go to work, and I sit on the sofa catching up on the football from the day before. Outside, daylight creeps over the land.

But this Monday, I have a new laptop to use for work, only I have to transfer all the files from the old one first, putting them on a pendrive took two hours, then downloading them onto the new one takes another two hours. Ready for work just before lunchtime and the computer tells me I have to download some new updates before I go any further.

And that is where my day went. Or morning anyway.

And then I can begin on the issues that I have not been able to deal with since Thursday. And everyone wants stuff done.

And then there are the cats. Molly knows that by laying on the keyboard, she gets attention at least, and Mulder and Scully both have their loud attention grabbing meows.

No news on Mum today, so will call tomorrow.

Dinner is fishcakes in rolls. I'm not saying you'll get that at the Ritz, but it was pretty darn good, laced with sweet chili sauce. And washed down with Old Spicy Hen, or cider for Jools. We have beaten the worse day of the week, so are on a roll, as it were.

The evening is cold outside, so we turn the heating up.Such is the excitement of a working Monday spent at home. There is TV in the evening, and coffee and chili flavoured chocolate. But we are both pooped again and go to bed at nine. At this rate we will be going to be at six in the evenings and getting up at three in the morning.

Anyway, Tuesday tomorrow, and will be one month to the shortest day. Spring will be coming.

Brexit means Brexit. No really

Today Micheal Barnier made a speech detailing what Brexit means to Britain, and as a result of that decision to leave, what will happen. On Ireland: And those that pushed Brexit must offer solutions. Which seems reasonable.

"Those who say Britain can enjoy parts of the single market must stop this contradiction... The integrity of the SM is non-negotiable" An ambitious FTA with Britain covering many areas is "possible" but says "in none of these areas will the EU wait for the UK" as it has other priorities and other free trade projects to focus on. "But in none of these fields will the EU wait for the UK. We must continue to advance. We will continue creating new free trade agreements in addition to the ones we already have with 60 countries."

He also confirmed, what some of us already knew, that UK firms could not continue with passporting rights after Brexit. Again, this is not really news.

John Bruton, former Irish taoiseach. We have no problem with UK referendum, we have prob with UK's ill-considered decision to quit single market and customs union. "Quite remarkable" that French, German pols taking GFA more seriously than UK

And the Daily Mail reported today that British companies would not be able to trade freely in the EU after Brexit. I mean, they act like this is news.

It is reported that the UK Government is going to offer an increased amount of money to the EU. They still have no answer on the Irish border of course.

The Brexit Minister Lord Callanan has just given a personal statement in the House of Lords to correct himself on the revocability of Art 50 having wrongly claimed in the Lords last week that the UK could not legally revoke Art 50.

And finally, the European Medicines Agency is being relocated to Amsterdam and the European Banking Authority will move to Paris. These might mean less than 2000 job losses, but these are well paid jobs, and in the case of the former, most Drug Companies also have offices here, which they will also move. So, Brexit is having an effect, ones that cannot ever be reversed.

And Brexit has already cost every household one week's wages. But, sunlit uplands and having cake and eating it. Eh?

Another typical day in Brexitlalaland.

Sunday 19th November 2017

Some months ago, I signed Jools and myself up on a tour in another abandoned Underground Station, one I had not heard of before; Down Street.

Down Street was closed in the 1930s, due to lack of use and being close to both Green Park and Hyde Park Corner stations.

Although going in anywhere that has been abandoned for many years, and 80 year old decay of a tube station would be reason enough on its own to go down, there is its links to the war.

The station was taken over by the Rail Executive, to coordinate railways in the time of war, as it was central, bomb proof and had enough space.

Life must have been grim down there, living and working on an active tube line, with trains passing my every couple of minutes for 20 hours, lack of fresh air and a general lack of space.

They did eat well, even the lower ranks, and there was flushing toilets and running water.

So, and despite needing more than eight hours sleep, we were up and about at half six in the morning, making coffee, feeding the cats and grilling bacon to ensure we could leave the house by quarter past eight to get to Martin Mill, be bale to buy tickets, blah, blah, blah. And so on.

I even regretted that we were going to London, and maybe we might give it a miss, but then the tickets were so expensive, we may as well go and make a go of it. One last check to make sure we had everything, then into the car and to the station.

Already the sun had been up and hour, but being the season when there are long shadows when it does shine, the rays of the sun fell onto the trees the other side of the opposite platform, another fine sight for us. Jools had got the tickets, so all we had to do was wait, and turned out we were the only passengers boarding here. Maybe it would be a quiet trip on the train. I had noticed a note on Google maps that morning when I was looking to get to the tour, and saw that Regent Street had an event called "carnival of toys", but gave it no other thought.

At Dover, Folkestone, Ashford and Ebbsfleet, more and more families got aboard, all with chattering excited children, and talk was of toys, Kitkats and drawing books. Or at the least the two families numbering nine or ten members. I thought of the cost of the train, the Tube and all the other stuff a family day out in London would cost.

It was another golden day, the countryside was a riot of reds, yellows and golds. I was a feast of the eyes, and I was entranced, even passing through such familiar scenes.

We leap off the train at St Pancras, hoping to beat the families with buggies and assorted children through the barriers, which we mostly did. However, we then wandered over to Kings Cross so I could check to see if there were any Azumas waiting at the buffers. But, again, there were none.

So we went under the station into the Underground, walking to the escalator taking us to the Piccadilly Line platforms, where our train would take us the half dozen stops through the West End to Green Park.

Piccadilly (the street) runs down one side of Green Park looking towards Buckingham Palace, although the golden laden trees meant that it could not actually be seen. And now is lined with high-end hotels, including the one we had to be at in an hour's time. We dodge the traffic and cross over so to walk through the park, weaving through a group of Spanish tourists on a guided tour.

However, we were both hungry, and thought maybe we could get a coffee in the hotel, so after a walk of just a few hundred yards, we crossed back over Piccadilly and into the hotel, where we agreed to stump up for the most expensive continental breakfast it is possible to have. Mind you I haven't been to the Dorchester or the Ritz of course. But fruit, cereal and bread and preserves was fine, but not worth the price, obvs, but it did mean that we just had to walk up the steps to meet up with the tour.

We check in and wait until all twelve of us had arrived, and are then given a H&S brief, and the tour starts. Starts with some history, and why the station is down a narrow street, down Down Street. And why it failed to attract passengers and closed down after 30 years.

We were then lead out of the hotel, into Down Street to look at the front of the station, before being taken to a narrow door covered with all sorts of warnings, through that and down a narrow set of steps to the top of the spiral staircase.

We stopped again for another bit of education before we were allowed to walk down to the station level, 80 feet below.

In fact, the station was quite small, so when it was converted into offices and a control centre for the railway executive, rooms were small, and passageways just wide enough to allow a tea trolley through.

Photos were shown and then compared to where we were standing, shadows on the wall showed clocks or notice boards, and through these what it left can be matched to those photos. As after the way, the internal walls of the offices were demolished, so little remains, just where floors were levelled.

The big draw for Down Street is that for two months at the end of 1940, Winston Churchill slept here, and even asked that an office be built a little later, though probably not for him.

The platforms were bricked off during the war, and that is still the case, but the Piccadilly Line still runs past, and so every minute or so there is that familiar rush of air and the sound of an approaching train. Although just a sturdy door each side through which the lights of the passing train can be seen.

The tour doubled back over and over again, but was interesting.

The station is filthy, decades of grime and dust from the passing trains has been left, so that even brushing against a wall will leave you dirty. But it washes off, and makes it all the more photogenic I suppose.

All things come to an end, of course, and at the end we were left with the climb back up, 100 or so steps up to the surface, just about managed it without needing to stop and have a breather.

We collected our bags, and should we do something else, or go home?

Go home.

So we walk back down Piccadilly to the station, down the escalators and wait for a train back to St Pancras, where we had just enough time for a beer near to the Southeastern platforms, sitting on stools watching the world go by, before going up to the platforms and finding the train already in and door open.

And it seemed that the carnival wasn't over, as the train was less than half full as we pulled out. The journey you know, but for me passed with the sun low in the west as the day drew to an end.

We were back in Martin Mill just after sunset, and the day was getting dark. And cold. So in the car and up Station Road to Chez Jelltex, where the kettle and coffee pot put on and brews made, chocolate eaten.

Phew, what a day. What a weekend.

I listen to football as I cook chorizo hash, not a good game, but it passes the time, until half six when dinner is ready and we can uncork the wine and sit down to eat.

The weekend had slipped past again, and there is time to watch the football and have a shower, but before MOTD is over, my eyes are too heavy, and we call it a night.