Outside, it's America

My memories of America from my youth are either wild west films, or TV cop series.

I guess the first one I remember really was The Streets of San Francisco with Karl Malden and a young Michael Douglas. Then it was Starsky and Hutch, with both shows showing cars being chased down alleyways crashing through piles of old newspapers and puddles of water.

It all seemed so different, so glamorous, even if cars did just burst into flames for no reason, or tyres screech as cars went round corners, this was America, and was so very different to dul old Oulton Broad and Lowestoft.

If not driving at silly speeds through the country's big cities, it would be the Good Ol' Duke Boys getting away from the sheriff in the Dukes of Hazzard. Even that seemed so wonderful, or was that just Daisy?

I never thought I would go there, even when I was in the RAF, I was friendly with a freight mover and he would hitch rides on planes to the States, something I never thought I would do.

But a second divorce meant suddenly I had time, I just needed money.

And then I get a cal from my Sargeant whilst on a course: "Wanna go to las Vegas on detachment, boy?" Indeed I did, Roger, indeed I did.

Detachment is where planes would visit an airfield away from home, could be in the UK or on the other side of the world, and so the support trades would have to go too to do our job, over there. Just outside Vegas is Nellis AFB, and that is where we and two Hercules C130s were going to spend most of November 1996.

I don't think I had even been so excited about anything as the wait for the flight out, even if it was on a ropey old RAF VC10. In flight catering was a sandwich box made up of a couple of sandwiches, a cheap pack of crisps, a Club biscuit and a piece of fruit. On arrival at Vegas, the immigration guy came on board and told us all items of fruit and vegetables would have to be confiscated. There was about 150 of us on board, each with two pieces of uneaten fruit. He was gonna need a bigger bag to collect it all.

We lined up at immigration, shwed our passport and NATO travel order, meaning we were allowed in; would you like your passport stamped? Heck yes I would!

And waiting outside was a bus. An American bus, very much like a Greyhound bus, with the door operated by the driver via a lever, just like in the movies. And outside were cars. American cars, huge things.



I was in a movie. Or so it seemed. Since then I have been to quite a few areas of the US, in order:

Nevada
Arizona
Massachusetts
New Hampshire
Maine
Rhode Island
Oklahoma
Arkansas
Vermont
New York (upstate)
Texas
Washington
Oregon
California
Colorado
Wyoming
Montana

I think that is it.

And met some fine people: Marcy in New Hampshire, Jason and Cheryl in Arkansas and Dawn and her partner in Colorado. As well as those people who felt the need to speak with this Brit at every available opportunity, even when all I wanted was a quiet night, I would get the "I like your accent, where you from?" England. "Oh wow, love that place, I have a friend in London, Bob, you know him?"Yes, these conversations really do happen.

And I have seen some of the best sights the US has to offer:

New England in the fall

Grand Canyon

Crater Lake

The Pacific North West

The Ozark Mountains

But I have never been to New York. Not until this week. On Friday a new adventure begins, where I retread the same streets Starsky and Hutch used to patrol.

Wish me luck. Hope you all enjoy the journey too.

But that's not until Friday....

Saturday 29th September 2018

I think it is fair to say, that once an idea gets in my head, I have to act upon it.

A few years ago, during another mild autumn, Kent was visited by many migrant Clouded Yellow butterflies, I went up the cliffs to try to snap one, but all I got was a distant shot that came out blurry. So, with there being another bumper invasion this autumn, could I get shots?

Well, a couple of weeks ago we went to Sandwich, along side the Stour where I had been told was the best place to see them, and in a lull in a windy weekend, we failed to find them, as did another visit to Temple Ewell Down too, none seen.

But before I could go butterfly hunting, we would have to go shopping, and have breakfast.

Not much to report really, just a few day's shopping to get, and a few travel essentials for the end of the week, as you may have realised, were off on our travels again, but more of that another day.

Back home for bacon butties, as we seemed to have four packs of the stuff, so I got busy with the grill as Jools put the shopping away.

Once we had eaten, and cleaned the stuff up, we drove to the Monument, not far, but we could walk down the clifftop path from there to Kingsdown, where I thought would be the best place, and was where I saw the single other example I had seen a few years back.

I look round the base of the monument, looking for a few final spikes of Autumn Lady's Tresses, but none to be seen. I think the grass had been mowed, but there were a few harbells and other dwarf flowers, but no orchids.

Jools knows how I go when out snapping, I do walk, but dawdle and meander, so she decides to go on a walk, a proper walk, and will meet me at the gate into Kingsdown. I walk to the edge of the cliff to look at the rock shelf at the bottom of the cliffs, before walking down the slope, looking on both sides for flowers.

There are still plenty of Ragwort, Harebells, Toadflax, Marjoram to be seen out in flower, but none of the Gentiatians I was hoping to be seen. I was on the lookout for an upright flower spike with upturned bell-shaped flowers, but no, none to be seen.

And there were no butterflies either. But I knew this area, and once into Kingsdown was the butterfly motherlode.

Jools was waiting at the stile into Kingsdown, we walk down together, but she decides to take a set on a bench near the cliff edge, I walk on.

Just after past a cliff fall which has reduced the path to a few yards wide, I see a butterfly lift off from the path in front of me. It was yellow.

I switch to stalk mode, and follow the butterfly as it circles and circles. I nearly lose it when it flew into the sun, but I keep my eye on it, and see it drop to the ground and rest of a Scabious.

I rush closer, then once close, take a shot, take a step, take a shot, until I get near enough to drop down onto my stomach, and able to get a shot looking into the sun at the closed wings of the butterfly.

It looked just out of focus in the viewfinder, I go to switch the camera to manual focus, but my movement startled the butterfly, and was gone. I had to hope the shots would be good enough.

Jools came to me, and I whopped with joy, I had come out with the intention of snapping a Clouded Yellow, and done it.

We walk further on, but I saw just one more, at a distance and lost it almost straight away. We did see two Small Coppers, two Wall Browns and several Large Whites, all which were bonuses.

There was also a chance of seeing another rare migrant, a Long Tailed Blue, but its food plant, Everlasting Pea, was just about all over and just one small part was in flower, all the rest all dried and covered in seed pods I look but see no blues at all.

I say to Jools we should turn for home, which we do, and begin the long slow gentle climb back to St Maggies then up to the Monument. It was still a warm day, with there being no clouds and little breeze, perfect for butterflies and for walking too.

We get back to the car, then drive back home where it was just about lunch time, and with more bacon I cook pasta carbonara again, made with some fresh egg yolks, and some garlic bread. Lovely.

For the afternoon, there was football on the radio, but that was playing second fiddle to the Ryder Cup. Now don't get me wrong, I like golf, but glf on the radio? Goes with tennis and F1 as being poor spots for radio. Anyway, for my entertainment there is the early game of West Ham v Man Utd; now, Manchester couldn't be that bad again could they?

Oh yes they could.

2-0 in the first half, and lucky it wasn't worse to be honest. In the second Utd pull a goal back, but West Ham rip their defence open again to restore their two goal lead. 3-1 and all over.

Well.

And then Norwich V Wigan via the modern miracle that is Twitter. A close game, with City just edging it, but no goals until 4 minutes from time when we get a penalty, which is put away, and brigs us the three points. A check after the game showed Norwich up to 5th in the table, but at the start of the day, a defeat could have meant us being in 17th, the table is still that close and the season is that young still.

At six we go over to Whitfield for more card based malarkey, although now there is five of to paly, as one of Jen's oldest friends, Slylv, has come down from Bolton to live with her. Sylv sold her house, so there is no going back, but it will almost certainly end happily. Anyway, Sylv has to get used to the banter that has now developed, and learn the two games we play.

Jen wins at Meld, but Jools triumphs at Queenie, very quickly in fact, but despite it being just half nine, we are both pooped and so we say we would go home, thus being back at Jelltex Towers before ten, and in bed by ten past.

Friday 27th September 2018

Pay day.

One week to go.

It is Friday, and I am hoping for an easy day to be honest, as Thursday saw me rooted to the sofa writing mail after mail to be sent out. IN fact, from this point, each week will get busier and busier right through until we come to the end of March, but then it will be busier for different reasons. For the time being, I look to the end of each week, but knowing what is coming, there is also planning for later in the project.

But for now, it is waiting for mails to come in and respond to those, like some kind of serious ping pong.

Ping.

Pong.

Ping.

And so on.

It is a cloudy day to start with, so I don't really mind working, its not as though I am missing butterflies or orchids outside.

I do have the radio or TV on, and knuckle down to work and work.

Work ends at just gone four; Jools had gone into town shopping, so I tidied up and began to dance around the house to some Happy Mondays. As you do.

I gave Jools the choice of chorizo hash or burgers, and she chose purgers. So I fond a pack of venison burgers in the freezer, cook those up, defrost some rolls and pour a beer and a cider. JOb done.

We ate whilst watching a great film on the life of Hollywood star, Heddy Lamarr, who had the most incredible life, not just because she was a star at MGM. She was Austrian, and starred in a film in her native country in which she was filmed naked, married a Jewish industrialist who was making munitions for the Germans. She drugged her maid, put on her clothes, sewed in her jewelry in the lining of her clothes and stole a bike to escape. She made her way to London, met with Sam Goldwyn but turned down a contract to become an actress, had 2nd thoughts and used the last of her money to book passage on the same ship as he, and dressed in the last of her finery for dinner, and caught Errol Flynn's as well as Goldwyn's eye.

SHe won a 500 dollar a week contract yet not being able to speak English!

She did make films, became a star, but was bored, so became an inventor in her spare time, made friends with Howard Hughes who gave her equipment for a laboratory.

She was blessed, or cursed, with being dazzlingly beautiful, but most people only saw that, and wasn't interested in her brain. She was aware that the German U Boats were wreaking havoc on the convoys in the Atlantic, and she had an idea of a radio controlled torpedo. To avoid jamming, she came up with an idea of switching frequencies rapidly, she gave the patent to the US Navy who didn't bother to look at it.

Years went by, her star rose and fell, and meanwhile the Navy looked at her patent and designed a secure radio system based on her patent. Not only that, the same idea was put to weapons and drone aircraft, and then applied to wifi and bluetooth systems, all on her original idea, and no one knew.

She never received a penny for her idea, yet most of modern communications and apps built on her patent, even after her notes were released, some felt unable to believe that a beautiful actress could have had such an original idea. She was recognised just before she dies, and was lauded, but by then she was living in poverty and isolation after a series of botched plastic surgeries in order to try to preserve her youth.

We watched Monty it being a Friday, and we then resisted the temptation to go to bed early, as this only means we wake up earlier and earlier.

Reality check

I would like to think I have always been consistent with my commentary on Brexit, in what is needed, what the challenges are and how stupid the whole thing is.

Let us look at the Irish border, that is the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland. All sides agree that the target is to have no hard border on the island, even the DUp and Brexiteers agree that, but over-riding that is the need for Brexit, and in many cases, as hard as possible.

In order for there to be a no, or frictionless, border, there must be the same rules on both sides. And in particular, the SM, CU and tex equivalence. Or, and agreement in place between the EU and UK, or at least one that covers the EU and NI that works in the same way, and is watertight legally.

Take away any of those three, CU, SM or tax, and there has to be a hard border.

A hard border is not punative nor a punishment by the EU, but a direct result of Brexit, or a result of those pushing Brexit not realising what the consequences would be.

But that is where we are. And the media, rather than calling out these liars and brigands for the liars they are, this is all reported word for word.

That Boris de Piffel Johnson, who was at the time Foreign and Commonwealth Secretary not realising at the time, nor for nearly 5 months, what the backstop agreement that he and the rest of the Cabinet had agreed to. Twice, actually meant. Either he is incompetent or a liar. Or both.

To still believe over two years after the referendum that Brexit would have no consequences on cross-border trade shows that nothing has been learned.

In order for May's Chequers Paper or Johnson's Canada Plus newspaper article to be even considered, would require the EU to allow a third country to pick which one of the four freedoms it could follow and which is need not. Even today in the papers there is a suggestion there is a weakening in some EU capital cities. I don't think so, because this would mean the foundations of the SM be broken, and if the UK gets what it wanted, so would all third party countries, and EU members. It's just not going to fly.

And again today, it was suggested that German Car makers would force some kind of deal through, this is what Brexiteers have been saying since the referendum, so when will the Brexiteers admit this is just a busted flush? Time and time again, German car makers have said that the integrity of the SM is more important to them than a WA with UK on unfavourable terms.

Today, it is six months until Brexit day, and the Brexiteers are trotting out the same lies they were two years ago. Like we are trapped in some special circle of hell.

Thursday 27th September 2018

Today is the 496th post of the year, matching the total for all of last year, which in turn was the most posts I have written in a year. I think it is fair to say there will be yet more posts to come over the final 3 months or so of the year.

I know the Brexit stuff is tiresome for many, but for me, writing about what happens and is said on a day to day basis helps me understand the mess my country is in, and that although there are some very easy solutions to the mess, politically or economically, all are difficult and will cause great strife in the Conservative Party and in Parliament too. As for the country, well, who knows, it seems the far right is on the march and would mobilise further, I don't know. But at some point, something will be done, otherwise the UK will leave the EU if not by accident, then by simple operation of international law and time expiring on the A50 process. That will not change, unless the Government of the days asks it to be different.

One day when all this is over, I might publish them on their own blog, to show the story of Brexit, just wish it was going to have a happy ending, but I don't think that to be likely.

As well as the story of Brexit this blog also details the story of our lives, more than ten year now, which is amazing, really.

And still the story goes on.

And so, to Thursday.

Meetings. Meetings about meetings and meetings about change. Change is coming at work, and so a meeting for my colleagues of our new boss. Change is always difficult, but I think this might be good.

Then down to work, with me working for hours in the afternoon, sat on the sofa churning out e mails. Mail after mail after mail. I really wanted to go out for a walk, as the wind had dropped, and it was a glorious day, but if I had have stopped working, I would never have started, so I work on, watch a documentary on the cold war as I work. The role of submarines in the cold war in fact, and amazingly brave men who manned the boats, would sail for months on end, playing cat and mouse whilst both sides had the biggest bangs.

And at the end, one captain described how his boat had collided with a Russian submarine and only later realised how close he came to death. A Russian described just getting out as his boat before it sunk, and finally, another captain in the US Navy describing how his wife raised their family almost alone. All three broke down in tears, decades after the event.

I finish work just before five, egg and breadcrumb the aubergine, feed the cats (not with the aubergine), then cook and was just about done when Jools arrived home at six.

It was a three glass of wine day.

We tidy up and listen to the radio, no football to listen to, just music on the Marc Riley Show, all avant garde stuff, mixed in with classic session tracks and chat.

And that's that, nearly the weekend, and no allergies at all that day, I felt so well I even had a shower, but went easy on the shampoo and shower gel.

Friday Brexit news

One thing that has been forgotten in the fog of Brexit that in the run up to the referendum, a Labour MP who did lots of work for immigrants and immigration charities was shot and stabbed to death by a white man shouting “Britain First” as he shot her in the face. Jo Cox was killed.

Campaigning was suspended, or should have been, but it has been proven that both Leave campaigns carried on pumping out fake news advertising on social media with data supplied by Cambridge Analytica.

Now, can you imagine if an immigrant has shot and killed a Conservative MP in the run up to the referendum, how the rhetoric would have been ramped up. Her name is hardly mentioned in the UK now, but yesterday, in Belgium a square in Brussels was renamed after her.

Someone cares, just not her home country.

This morning the former Foreign Secretary and part time Mayor of London, Boris de Piffel Johnson outlined his plans for an alternative Brexit in opposition to May’s Chequers plan. But as you would expect, it was full of cake, contradicted itself and largely ignored the Irish Border issue still claiming it could be solved by technology. This and other so called solutions ignores the EU’s red lines on the separation of the four freedoms, in fact it has more cake than May had in her plan, as Johnson suggested cherry picking freedom of movement for good and services. Freedom of movement for services has not been covered in any trade deal across the world.

Let’s be honest, Conservatives are arguing about two deals that neither of which the EU would accept. And that is the level of discourse that we have in our country, and bot plans are jammed full of cakeism and cherry picking.

And yesterday, Corbynites trended a hashtag on Twitter to boycott the Guardian newspaper as the paper had been critical of their dear leader. And this is the state of the left in the UK too.

Frankly, two weeks in the US not thinking about this madness is looking darn attractive.

Wednesday 26th September 2018

It has been about 18 months since I had a serious allergy attack, but Wednesday was the day on which one came with great aggression. I had had a shower the day before, and without thinking used conditioner on my hair, as it was feeling a tad dry, and then put some deodorant one. I just about managed to sleep Tuesday night, but woke up early on Wednesday with sniffles and sneezes, and that just got worse and worse.

I woke up and began sneezing more and more, so I took for first of the over the counter drugs.

I took meetings through the day, and sneezed and snuffled my way through.

It was a grim thing.

I think it was a combination of the conditioner, deodorant and the fly spray I had been trying to use as little as possible. Not sure if it is the accelorant, or some other chemical that made me hyper-sensitive, but it was clear, it was going to be a hard day.

All I could hope for is to open the windows and doors, take drugs and if there was the chance, go for a long walk.

In the afternoon, with work being slow, I decide to go for a walk, and although I wanted to go to Kingsdown to look for Clouded Yellows, I decide to go to Windy Ridge, as I could stumble back home in a few minutes if my back got painful.

And indeed, as soon as I was out of the house, my nose and associated passages cleared, and the walk was a joy. I saw little that was new, or unusual, just walk over the field, past the now empty pig's copse, then instead of turning down Norway Drove to The Dip, but walked straight on, past the farm and up the long gentle hill to the wood.

I walk through the woodland track hoping to see fungi, but apart from a single King Alfred's Cake, I see none. I do see a trio of horses being walked along the woodland path, huge beasts with tiny young ladies on board. I step aside and let them pass.

From there it is walking down the hill, past another file of people on horses, including an Aussie family who were having the time of their lives; the father wished me a good morning, then g'day.

I walk down the shallow dip to the bottom, through the mud at the bottom, then back up to the rad that leads back to the road to Fleet House.

I walk past the big field back to the lane that leads back to our street, and home.

I felt fabulous when I got home, ten minutes later, I had full on flu symptoms, sneezing like made and becoming miserable, minute after minute.

And things just got worse

I took more drugs, and that had little effect.

Darn it.

I cook more aubergine to go with the pasta salad I made earlier, just finishing off when Jools came back home.

We eat well. Even better when we have ice cream for dessert along with a coffee.

My allergies get worse, and it became clear that sleep was now going to be a real problems, so just before I go to bed, I took yet another pill, and hope for the best.

But it worked, and after half an hour, I slip into a deep, deep sleep.

The party of business.

David Allan Green published a trio of tweets today setting out in how little time of actual power, the Conservative Party wrecked first the country, and then Brexit.

"Between 1996 and today, 22 years, Conservatives have only had an overall majority for just two years, 2015-17.

And in those two years, they unleashed both an in/out referendum (with a "mandate" which parliament seems not to be able to gainsay) and a botched Brexit.

Two years.

(Major lost overall majority 1996; Conservatives in opposition, 1997-2010; no overall majority, coalition with Lib Dems, 2010-2015; no overall majority, supply and confidence agreement with DUP, 2017- ; "natural party of government".)

In effect, of course, in 2015-2017 the Conservatives were in an unholy though entirely unofficial coalition with UKIP.

A Faustian arrangement, which went horribly wrong for the Conservatives while giving UKIP the one thing they wanted, UK out of EU."

This is the truth that history will judge Cameron and May in the decades to come, and the legacy the Conservative and Union Party will and its leader will have to bear for decades. It is that reason I think that the party will not continue in its present form, the damage will be too much.

There is still time for Labour to change course, to go for no Brexit, or at least a second referendum, but it too is riven by an ideological chasm, one which has its hard right and left demanding Brexit, whilst the majority in the middle are apparently helpless.

Labour has had its own conference this week, and despite the obvious differences, it seems that some kind of softening of it's pro-Brexit stance is coming. Next week it is the Conservative Party's turn, and despite the leadership trying to keep a 2nd referendum off the agenda, let alone pausing or stopping A50, it will be discussed in fringe events.

How May handles the next week will decide if she is still PM the weekend after it, even if she mishandles it, won't be the first time she would have done that, then she is likely to be in power for longer as there is no credible alternative, as any Brexiteer who might take over, or lead the party into an election would be tainted as much by Brexit failure as May, and Brexit, like most else is more about party politics and persnal ambition that it being what is good for the country.

Tuesday 26th September 2018

Work again.

I really should have tried to set up an office in the back room, aka the third bedroom, but couldn't be bothered, so I plugged in the laptop into one of the new screens and worked down on the dining room table again.

Outside it was another wonderful early Autumn day, wall to wall sunshine and not a breath of wind, so that it went from just above freezing at dawn to being downright warm early in the afternoon.

Jools slept badly due to the sleep detecting machine, and had to return it to Ashford hospital first thing, so by half six she was gone, and I had the radio on, or the i player, grooving to the previous day's Radcliffe and Maconie show. I know how to rock. And roll.

I have breakfast of fruit. And a second breakfast of toast and marmalade. And despite having 90 minutes to get my shit together before work, I am somehow late in logging on, just as well a meeting had not been planned then.

And away we go, careering down the gentle slope towards the weekend. Yes, thinking of that already!

Lunch is taken at half ten, just as they take it in Denmark, though they are an hour ahead of us her in Brexlandia, but hey.

Once work peters out in the afternoon, I decide to go out for a walk, just over the fields, but a sore back made me cut short even getting to Fleet House, just stopping halfway, watching a kestrel rise from the margin of the field, and fly off screeching to a tree the other side of the field to watch me, before flying off towards Kingsdown.

That was the highlight of the walk. I go back, and apart from the swarms of bees on the ivy, I see no other flying insects, not the butterflies I had hoped to see.

I am back at home, I have a brew and one final check of work e mails, I finish fr the day and listen to some music on the radio.

Dinner is aubergine, garlic bread followed by raspberry and apple crumble smothered in cream. And was wonderful Although I would he having indigestion all night as a result.

City were in action in the League Cup, away to Wycombe, and City took a 2 goal lead, were pegged back to 2-1, and then 3-1 by half time. All seemed set, especially when Rhodes scored his third and City's forth, and all seemed done and dusted. But a dodgy penalty, and a break away goal made it 4-3, and Norwich were hanging on, but do hang on. Elsewhere, Man Utd were home to Derby, Utd take and early lead and that also seemed that. But Derby score two in two minutes, and a shock was on the cards until an equaliser is scored in the 5th minute of injury time. But this season it goes straight to penalties, and Deby go first and scor all five of theirs, as do Utd. Its then sudden death, on the 8th try, Derby score again, but Jones misses for Utd, and the shock happened.

Well. Time for bed.

Of left and right Brexit

The country is being held to ransom by the extreme wings of the two main parties, or in the case of the labour, both its extreme wings, as those on the Momentum Left and the Hoey right both desire for Brexit. Meaning those in the middle, i.e. most of us, are stuck, with calls for moderation or thought ignored or worse.

The Tory right we know about, all JRM and the ERG backed by shady funding by those billionaires and hedge fund managers baulk at the thought of EU money laundering curbs due to come into for at the beginning of 2019.

It is ignored how the rain campaigns somehow were allowed to overspend by up to 40% and the DUP spent a quarter of a million on pro-Brexit advertising. In London. How they came by that money and spending more than they usually spend on an election in NI.

Talking of the DUP, their leader, Ms Foster was up before a committee where er powers of recollection were somewhat lacking. In normal times her part in a failed and suspect green energy scheme and how hundreds of thousands of pounds of taxpayer's money was pissed up against the wall; she should have resigned on principle, but things such as principle in modern politics are something of a luxury that the democratic process is no longer allowed.

The Labour party is as divided on Brexit at the Tories, and during the conference those differences were laid bare, but then again, with reality knocking at the door, who's to say what might happen. That Keir Starmer actually said reain was going to be an option is a step forward, even if both Corbyn and shadow chancellor both contradicted that, but in the last two years Corbyn has gone from suggesting he would have sent the A50 letter the day after the referendum to, in principle, supporting a 2nd referendum. But no option on remain. Yet.

In his closing speech, Corbyn suggested that if the PM's aims were the same as Labour;s then they should work together, thus putting the Brexit failure, or (if you want) the potential failure to be owned by the Conservatives.

Odd to then that the Brexiteers heroine, Mrs Thatch, was a staunch Europhile, and the prime mover in the creation of the single market, and seeing four years before its creation how it could benefit British exporters. Were she not an evil vampire and one of the undead, she would be spinning in her grave, and the destruction to the SM being waged in her name. I am no fan of Mrs T. Indeed I lived through the early 1980s, leaving school in 1982 when there were riots, strikes and entire industries either already wastelands, or being planned to be. I have lived through hard times, and despite probably being OK thanks to my job with a Danish country, I have no wish to see today's youth and young adults going through what mine did.

But that is what might happen, probably will happen.

Monday 24th September 2018

And the weather had changed so it was back to summer. Or was once the sun was up and shining on the back of the house, when we got up it was chilly enough to put the heating on for a bit.

And it was back to work again, is there two Mondays in a week now, 'cos they come round pretty darn quickly if you ask me.

Jools is up and about and full of beans, and soon leaves for work so I take to the sofa to watch the recording of Sunday's footy and eat breakfast as I slob out.

But soon quarter to eat comes round and I must try to get my new office set up, up and running. I put stands on the screens, then I find I can't attach the cables, so I try to detach the feet, only to discover they are now cold welded, apparently, to the stand and no amount of force will shift them. I get one end of the link cable into one of the screens, but the other end is a different shape for the second scree, so no matter how I push and swear, it won't go in. So, I give up I connect the laptop, the screen and I have one large screen to work off, which is quite an improvement, though this new set up takes the other half of the table from my home PC.

But work is now almost a pleasure, sorting through the inbox, updating spreadsheets and attending meetings and the like.

Jools had another appointment at the hospital in the afternoon, so comes back to pick me up, to drive back to Ashford as she is interviewed prior to be given a magic box to measure her breathing and pulse and so on when she is asleep. As ever, we are hoping this is the final appointment in what has been a long line of them. It was a glorious afternoon, warm enough to be summer, nearly, and driving along was warm enough to put the air con on.

We had to check in, then go from waiting room to waiting room until she is interviewed and given the box, and we could go.

But driving back in rush hour along the M20, through Folkestone to home. We get back at five, time enough to get busy in the garden.

Fr the last two years I have seeded the lawn with Yellow Rattle and wild flower seeds, but this year I mean business. I have half a kilo of yellow Rattle and kilo of wild flower and grass mix, but preparation is the key.

I scarify the lawn, one way then the other. Collect the dried grass and clumps of fresh stuff that I had uprooted.

Finally, mow the whole law to gather up what I had failed to gather the dried waste, and finally broadcast both lots of seeds, to ensure an even harvest come next summer. The seeds came to over £150 this year, enough to ensure the whole garden was done, needed less due to the new beds, though, but will sow the rest in the early spring.

Phew.

That called for a beer. But instead I go to the kitchen to make fresh pasta carbonara, following a Jamie Oliver recipe. And you know what, it was bloody marvelous, I also made garlic bread, which I washed down with red wine.

And Late Jools made apple and blackberry crumble and custard, which was also rather wonderful. And then we sat down to watch Deapool 2, which, sadly, left me rather cold, a lot of the humour seemed forced compared to the first one. Hey ho.

Jobs first bollocks

Today, at the Labour Party conference, Keir Starmer announced that it would not support any deal that May might obtain from the EU and if that ended in a 2nd referendum, remain would be a choice on the ballot paper. Only, its not that simple. It never is.

The party’s preference would be to have a General Election in the event of may not getting and WA through Parliament, and at this moment it seems to be party policy to go through with Brexit, though some vague “jobs first brexit”, whatever that is.

It has taken an age for Labour to even consider a 2nd referendum, so this is movement, but if the leader still wants leave, and will manipulate party machinery to ensure the hardest choices are the ones on offer, rather than go all in to remain. Thing is, of course, is that the left is as mad keen on Brexit as the right, and the rest of the country is caught between these two dogmatic coups fighting to push the accelerator harder to the floor as the country careers towards the cliff edge.

That Corbyn believe he could do better than May as PM in regards to Brexit. Maybe he even really believes in what he calls a "jobs first brext", a phrase as lacking in substance as Brexit means Brexit or firm and stable. But until this is challenged by the media as to what this means in detail, we will be trapped in the madhouse.

As things stand, with the Muppet show that is the current Government and that being made up of incompetents and fuckwits, Labour is 5 points behind the Government in polls. This is not a good look for Labour in opposition to what is seemed as the worse PM and Government for several generations.

Question is, would Labour switch to remain to win an election or not?

Meanwhile the Government published the last of its (incomplete) technical notices on the risks of no deal Brexit, and it makes sobering reading with planes to the EU unable to fly, drivers having to get additional motor insurance, truck and coach drivers permits not being valid, pet passports not working any more.

Bear in mind, the first tranche was covered heavily by the media, these slipped out without hardly anyone noticing, and these effects would be very serious indeed.

The BBC has been critical of the methodology in the IEA’s report published yesterday in calculating “benefits” for leaving the EU. Its not easy to find on the website, but is there, and if more journalists from the State broadcaster were as methodical as this, and on top of the issues, then pressing answers for details of Brexit would have brought more clarity.

As it is, stricter immigration, and based on wealth and skills will mean fruit and vegetables going unpicked, elderly people in homes not being cared for, and the NHS having a further staffing crisis, but lets not let reality get in the way of Brexit, eh?

Sunday 23rd September 2018

At some point between one and two in the morning, the autumn equinox occur, so nights are now longer than days.

As if to emphasise the point, Sunday was a grim day.

Rain had started falling during the night, and continued for most of the day, sometimes the sky so dark it seemed night had arrived early.

There was little point in going out or doing anything outside, though Jools did go to the shed to pot up some bulbs, while I watched football highlights, a task that took nearly two hours.

Outside the rain hammered down, and all I could think of was how great it all was, as I could go out and scarify the lawn once it stopped, then show the Yellow Rattle and wildflower mis I had bought.

I may have even rubbed my hands together.

Football was more enjoyable as I really didn't know many of the scores, and certainly not the stories behind them, so almost like an episode of The Likely Lads......

We have insalata for lunch, I don't have wine, but beer. Even still, once the football began on the radio in the afternoon, I was laying on the sofa trying, and failing, to stay awake. It wasn't helped by a goalless draw between Wet Sham and Chelski. The Arse won the second game, beating Everton 2-0, by which time it was time to eat again, so I cooked shoarma.

Outside the rain had stopped, the clouds cleared and warm, golden sunshine came out. Too late to do much to be honest, but there is to be four days of this to come, plenty of time to get out and about.

Not much else to tell, it got dark, Jools watched Breaking bad and I watched Antiques Roadshow.

Until it was time for bed....

Another weekend gone.

Irexit?

Today, the panic that surrounds Brexit got worse, with one of the Brexit supporting groups, the IEA, suggested, among other things, that in the event of a no deal that the UK should drop all import checks. All.

Bearing in mind one of the so called main points of Brexit was to reintroduce control. Now, abolishing checks is the exact opposite of control, and yet none of the Brexiteers see any problem with all of this.

Another idea is that Ireland should also leave the EU to solve the issue of the Irish border. This is being suggested in all seriousness, why should another country join in with this madness?

So, that apart there is no solution to that thorny problem.

And May herself made a speech on Friday in which she claimed that as she had come up with the Chequers paper, it was now up to the EU to come back with something. Quite what this something should be was left unsaid. But as it is the UK doing the leaving, then surely the onus is on her and the UK to come up with an alternative plan, you know, get the Brexiteers together and ask how they thought this was going to be sorted out, not that they have a Scooby.

The Irish Border issue is easy to fix practically, but politically impossible. You decide what kind of border you want, and have the Brexit, or no Brexit that meets those requirements. Wanting to have no hard border yet wanting to leave the CU, SM and tax agreements means that a hard border is needed, you can’t have both. But having the Brexit, or no Brexit that allows no infrastructure is politically impossible or acceptable, even from the Dup who props May up, they want both things too.

And labour, well, fucked it up again by agreeing to have a referendum only if there is no Election, and that referendum having no option in remaining. Therefore, Labour’s policy is to vote against May’s plan, and without no leave option, would support a no deal?

As I have said so may times, Corbyn wants to force UK to leave the EU, for very different reasons to May’s Brexiteers, but leave is the same. Corbyn advocates a “job’s first Brexit” without really explaining what that meant, and in reality, the way jobs would be protected is to remain, which Corbyn doesn’t want. So with the majority of Labour voters voted to remain, and more members switching over sides to remain, but the party won’t support what their members wants.

Saturday 22nd September 2018

(Officially) the last day of summer.

Open House London 2018

In most years, Open House is the week after Heritage Weekend, meaning I thought OH was last week, but it turns out I was mistaken.

A few of us had been planning a meet up, so when I said OH and suggested last week, my request got some shrugs, apparently, and then the 22nd was mentioned and agreed. Then on Friday night I got a final offer vua e mail to download the 2018 Open House brochure. So, I got it wrong. Which is not unusual.

Anyway, checking the train times, I find there was engineering works from Deal to Folkestone, meaning we would have to drive our go by rail replacement bus to pick up a train. In the end we decided upon Folkestone Central, as that was where the train started from, and we would get seats.

After coffee, we drove down to the port then along Townwall Street, only to find the A20 closed beyond Aycliffe, no idea why, but made us glad we set out earlier.

We drove up over St Martins then up the old Folkestone Road to Capel then along and down into Folkestone, finding a parking space near Radnor Park.

We walked over the damp grass to the station, getting our tickets then having a 5 minute wait before the train pulled in, we getting seats round a table, so Jools could read and I could look out of the window. And we were away, and for me the unusual thrill of travelling all the way into London to St Pancras rather than get off at Statford. Saying that, most of that additional four minutes of the journey is through a tunnel, just emerging having just passed over the Great Eastern Main Line, and for me a quick look to see if there was any trains on that or the new curve which Crossrail trains can now take Just an LNER HST rumbling into Gasworks tunnel, but I was happy with that.

There is yet more construction going in around the old gasometers at Kings Cross beside the canal, will look very different when completed, and the views through to York Road will be forever blocked.

We wait until everyone else gets off once the train pulls into the station, I go back to take a shot at the front of the train, then we walk to the escalators and out of the station. As we were only going to be staying in Bloomsbury, we could walk,and get a few steps in, after a few days of little movement.

We cross Euston Road, then walk down Grays Inn Road, heading south towards Russell Square. And we were hungry, so the agreement was to stop at the first cafe we saw, and just a few hundred yards down the road we find the first, Carmel, so we go in and order the smallest breakfasts they did; a sausage, two rashers, beans, an egg, four slices of toast and a cuppa, all for a fiver. We were in such a good mood we decide to sit outside on the pavement where it was just about warm enough to do so.

Fully refuelled, we walk off southwards until we came to a small map, I saw our first destination, over there, across the road, down the next left, first right and it should be there.

We cross Kingsway, abve what was London's only underground tram stop; it's still there and the ramps at either end are there too. But no trams have run for decades.

Anyway, we take the next right and at the end was our destination; the Freemasons Hall. I had no idea what to expect, but I had searched for things to do around where we were going to in the area, and this seemed to be best.

We went it, had our bags checked, and the wonders began in the reception hall, with marbled pillars and steps and such everywhere, we went up the double staircase to the first floor, were there was more arble and more staned glass and more statues and more mosaics.

Up some more step was the entrance to the grand hall, more like a theatre really, but is where the ceremonies take place still.

It was mind-bogglingly beautiful, and yet unnerving, that such a secretive society can exist out of sight. How can it be out of sight when you are allowed to wander in and take shots? Well, who are members and how members climb the various greasy poles in the police and politics.

We leave, and outside the threatening rain had arrived, and was now steadily raining. We decide to get a taxi to Great Ormond Street, just a run of a few minutes, but we would be dry and arrive in time to meet our friends.

We were to meet in an Italian cafe, but me supplying Graham with my work mobile number to keep in touch was rather undone by me leaving it outside. However, Jools had her pay as you go one, and we taxt Graham, and all is good.

Graham arrived dead on time at half eleven, and Aidan twenty minutes later, giving us all time to finish our drinks.

Over the road and down a side road is the entrance to Great Ormond Street hospital, we go in, sweep past the reception desk and down a corridor to the chapel. In the middle of a modern worl leading children's hospital is a grad II* listen chapel, saved from the original building.

It is gilded, carved and glorious, if small. JM Barrie has a memorial here, and Charles Dickens helped fund it.

From there we walk to Senate House, now part of London University, and looks like something from Gotham City. Inside it is Art Deco cum brutal, or so it seemed to me, we wandered round getting shots until we were all ready for another port of call.

St George Bloomsbury is a fine 18th century church by Hawksmoor.

We dodge the raindrops and go in, and a wall of incense hits us as we enter.

Once we had our shots, Graham leads us to a pub, a fine pub, which has booths round the bar, and we nab one to ourselves.

We have one pint, but I am still thirsty, so have another. And Aidan says its not right he hasn't bought a round, so we have a third.

The afternoon has slipped by, and we have done enough stomping for the day, Aidan is going to visit the Masons Hall, so we all hug as we part, and after spending a couple of minutes trying to flag a taxi down, instead we walk to Holborn Tube and get a Piccadilly line train the two stops to St Pancras.

A twelve car train was waiting, so we slip into one in the first half of the train, and I half snooze until the train departs. We have to change at Ashford, so raid the vending machine of crisps and chocolate, as we had skipped lunch, so feeling better, we climb onto the train to Folkestone.

We get back home at six, just in time for me to catch the last of the first half action of City's game at QPR. I should have been there, but too much to do, so little time. and all that.

Anyway, City play well, dominate possession, but score just the one, in the second half, but its enough to claim all three points and bring us our third win in a week.

Hurrah.

We have cheese and crackers for dinner, listening to Huey on the i player, and following the football on Twitter. It am the modern way

Weekend Brexit

The not unsurprising news is that team May is planning another of them snap General Elections, seeing as the last one went so well.

It is easy to understand why, she is not in power as PM, JRM wields more power than she does, and then the DUP has the power to bring the whole house of cards down if they don't get what they want.

Oh yes, the DUP. In an interview today, Arliene said the DUp would veto any agreement that put a border up on Ireland, all well and good. But as she and her party is a Brexit supporting one, and the whole car crash affect the very country she is apparently First Minister of, and the border in question is one that has her own on one side, shouldn't she and/or her party come up with an actual solution?

But of course, actual solutions, details, is where Brexit falls down. That and when you bring it close to reality, which could be called anti-Brexit.

But a snap election could deliver May the majority she needs, or it could put Labour in power, especially if the party gives in to calls for a 2nd referendum, but that would mean having to delay Brexit, and anyway, the Shadow Chancellor stated this morning that Labor would push forward with Brexit were it in power.

THis week is the Labour conference, when the members could force a change in policy on the leadership. But I fear a Momentum lead rearguard action to prevent that, but we shall see. A Labour party that embraced a 2nd referendum policy and then an anti-Brexit stance would probably sweep the next election, but that isn't going to happen with Corbyn as leader.

Until then various Lords and MPs with inherited wealth continue the remarkable spectacle of accusing remaining supporting Labour MPs as the elite.

You couldn't make this up...

Mum update

Back in June, after my last visit to Suffolk, I decided the weekly phone calls between her and I would stop, as we really dont say anything.

For these that don't know as to why, one of the main reasons is that she conducted an affair behind my Dad's back. For 21 years. Yes, you read that right. An affair that could have its ow anniversary cards. Such a thing is not done accidentally like an illicit affair after a drunken night out. This was premeditated and done knowingly, and done when Dad was away from home working in London or Southampton.

Done in the family house, in their bed.

And when Dad suspected and they hard arguments, she blamed Dad for being the angry one, and even suggested several times how much better things were when Dad was away. So I grew up thinking Dad was at fault.

Once I learned the truth, after Dad died, I said to Mum that the honest decent thing to do, if she was so unhappy with Dad, to have left rather than live a lie. But life was easy, both were working and earning enough to decorate the house, buy new TVs and hi-fis, pay for two holidays a year, or more. So she stayed on easy street.

It is these lies that hang over our relationship, and whenever there is a difficult question, the easy lie comes out rather than the difficult truth. Have you been walking? Yes. How far? (pause} To the end of the road. I replied, you're only fooling yourself. And it is the lying that gets me everytime, her failing to live up the the low standards she has lived her life through all my life.

We all live with lies or in denial, but hers hurt the two people she should have loved; Dad and me.

It'll be another two months before I call again.

Friday 21st September 2018

Friday.

With each passing day, the pressure at work builds just a little more. Not because of anything, other than the passing of the days, with more and more work to be done, and done by suppliers all over Europe.

On other projects it would be me who would do the grand tour of Europe visiting these suppliers and at the same time taking lots of fine shots of the places I would visit from Spain to Finland, from the Isle of Wight to Croatia. I still will be going to the IoW, but the rest I have to skip as the work in coordinating everything ramps up and up, and I dread taking a day off, let alone two and a half weeks, which is what will happen in October.

But we all need breaks, even me, so one hopes that all will be well on my return, but I am already planning my first working day back, so worried I am.

In a perfect world, I would have taken time to unpack my new computer things for the home office, but there was just too much work, and I tell myself that this will be the last day working at just a laptop. So I take shot of the way I work at the end of the day to show you and remind myself to get unpacking on Monday.

There are meetings and the usual end of week chores, and the grind that is travel expense reports, which are never as bad as you think, but you save them up. Saying that, travel on week a month instead of three means the backlog isn't that bad, but the system churns out automatic reminders to get them done.

I have to get the scanner out and copy the receipts, send them via mail from my home laptop to the work one, then create a report, add the receipts and send to finance.

That done I could get down to the actual work of the day, sending mails out, meetings and general coordinating and managing.

I work through the morning, into the afternoon, so much so I am still at it when Jools come back home from work, and says she would go to Tesco then, to save the task on Saturday, sensible as we were off to London anyway. I hoped to be finished once once she was back.

And that was the case, she came back laden with groceries, and included ice creams. So, we sat outside looking over the autumn garden at what we had created. And were happy.

I cook chorizo hash, because, you know, we likes it. And after tidying up, we listen to the radio, I write ready for when Monty is on TV. I stay awake though it, just about, but Jools misses most of it, so once he is finished, we go to bed, ready for a big day the next day.

Brexit newspeak

Reading this mornings front pages, one would have though that the PM had made a speech of Churchillian proportions,rather than make one of desperation. But, there it was, This May's not for turning, and funniest from the Express; May's Finest Hour.

Why is this not true, well, making this speech over NINE months since the December agreement on "sufficient progress" which she and her Cabinet agreed to. At the time many people, myself included, pointed out the political bear trap the fallback position for the Irish Border would be.

But nothing for three months, then it was rubber stamped again, and then the EU published the effective MoM, minutes of the meetings, or in this case what it felt had been agreed, and the penny dropped.

To say that May and all of her Cabinet did not realise what they had agreed to makes them either liars or incompetent. Personally, I think they're all both.

You would have thought that the fine Brexiteers, Davis, Gove, Fox, Johnson et all, after years of pushing Brexit, would have thought of a plan, identified and suggested solutions for all problems. I mean, its what we do in projects, managing risks, and making sure the risks are mitigated.

This all the Brexiteers failed to do, hoping they could muddle through and something would turn up. Well, something did turn up; reality. And it's a bitch.

May now has four weeks to come up with a solution that is acceptable to the EU or would be forced to accept the backstop, to go back on that would be an error on an altogether different scale.

Thursday 20th September 2018

Thursday.

The day before Friday.

Last (official) day of summer.

And after the great memories and evening meal out of Wednesday, it was back to normal, with the usual stuff, up before dawn, make coffee, feed the cats and check the news online.

Jools left at half six or so, leaving me to have breakfast, take the bins out, and chase Mulder round the house after he announced in a very loud meow that he had caught something, and apparently I should be very happy. He ran through my legs, up the stairs an under our bed where he looked just as happy. I was just able to grab the mouse and dispose of its tiny corpse out of the bedroom window, it reaching terminal velocity before it landed beside the bird feeder in the front garden.

Back to work.

Meetings, a webinar, and then on with the actual work.

Not much to really report, other than the box arrived with my new office set up; two monitors, a keyboard and base station. Just have to work out where to put them, and where to store them when they're not in use.

The day drags on and on as I get work done, to be at least not drowning by 5 in the evening.

I have no idea what the weather was like, other than at one point it was sunny, and I snapped a Painted Lady sunning itself on the patio just outside the back door. I took its picture.

And the day ends, I pack up the computer, watch some crappy TV, American Pickers again before I cook breaded chicken and taste sensation couscous.

And wine.

Lots of wine.

I try to listen to the football in the evening, but the Arse game could not be found, I start watching some documentary on Nelson, but fall asleep in front of the TV, waking up at nine and going to bed.

It was dark, after all.

The dead Brexit Sketch

You know how this goes.

It has ceased to be, it is no more.

But like a zombie parrot, it keeps coming back for more.

A lot of what I am about to write, I have written before. Many times. These things have not changed, nor will they.

In negotiations, you listen to the other side, understand their red lines, the no go areas, respect them, and avoid them.

The UK, in Brexit, is like the typical Brit abroad, when they can't be understood, say again, s l o w ly and LOUDER. This is May's Brexit negotiations.

From the start the EU said, the four freedoms are non-negotiable, on them the Single Market and the EU is built. But time after time after time, the UK has tried to split off the freedom of goods from the other three. And each time, the EU rejects this as cakeism or cherry picking.

Despite being told the Chequers paper would not be accepted, certainly not as it is, May ploughed on regardless.

If not respecting the other side's red lines wasn't bad enough, she then tried to circumvent M. Barnier by going to the capital cities of member states to appeal direct, but ignoring the fact Barnier is negotiating with a mandate from the EU 27 and EU council. Whatever he says or decides has the backing of the EU, if he is unsure, he asks them.

I have mentioned "good faith" many times, the EU has acted in good faith all through the A50 process, never wavering, never giving an inch, as it is the EU that holds the trump cards and gets to decide what to offer, rather than as the Brexiteers claimed two years ago that the UK held all the aces and we would get what we want as the EU needs us more than we need them.

How did that pan out?

And the fact that German car makers and Italian Prosecco makers would value a deal with the UK over the Single Market, something both denied time and time again.

The PM spoke this afternoon of a lack of respect from the EU's side. Really? They have acted sensibly and in their own interest, and have allowed talks to progress when they could have refused. The spoke last December of May being a tough negotiator to make her climbdown seem better than it was.

In fact that was the moment May lost control totally. She and her ministers agreed the December "sufficient progress" without understanding what she had agreed to. Those of us who understood knew, we though hard Brexit dies then, and we quietly celebrated.

This week, May has said repeatedly that no UK Prime Minister could agree to the Irish Border backstop. But she did. Twice.

Only when it was pointed out to her by the EU's text of the agreement did she get full realisation. So, when she ways there is a lack of respect, can she look at herself in the mirror?

Maybe she believes the bollocks she spouts, maybe she feels she has to, to keep her party together for a few weeks longer, but its not going to last.

When it is the UK that is leaving the EU, not the other way round, it is up to the UK to find solutions, no to identify issues, risks, and come up with solutions before they arise. Not trigger A50 and then try to get agreement from within her cabinet and party on the hoof.

She may sound strong and threatening, but she has no real power. No power over her own cabinet, let alone Parliament, and certainly no power via threats over the EU. She may say the UK is prepared to walk away without a deal, but that is as hollow as that scene in Blazing Saddles, watch the UK threaten to blow its own brains out.

We may be just dumb enough to do it.

The question is whether May blinks first again. She has no real choice, as the EU is fed up, fed up trying to deal with a country and a political system falling apart. In the end they realised that whatever the WA and TA might have, May could probably not get it through Parliament for ratification. So, better bring the political crisis forward so it can happen and blow over, whilst seeing what comes out the other side.

Today, the Good Law Project won a case at the Court of Session in Scotland, who referred the question of whether Parliament can or cannot stop Brexit to the UCJ. Further it said that Parliament can instruct the Government to withdraw A50. The Government is to appeal. There should be an answer to this before Christmas. Cases like this have won powers for Parliament before, which MPs have chosen not to use. Maybe this will be the same. Maybe not.

As May spoke outside Number 10 this afternoon, the pound slumped by 2%. Couldn't someone shut her up?

Back in June 2016, Donald Tusk said Brexit would end up with Hard or no Brexit. He was right. But what will it be?

Wednesday 19th September 2018

Our 19th wedding anniversary.

Jools have now been married to me more than twice the aggregate time that the two previous mar Mrs Jelltexes had.

She deserved a medal.

Or two.

Somehow I sleep through the alarm, and Jools is up and about, feeding the cats and making coffee. I go down and we exchange anniverary wishes, then sit down to drink coffee and think about the day head. We both were going to work full days, so celebration would come later.

Only I had bought Jools some flowers, left to the last minute so if she checked the accounts she would not see the transaction, so ordered the flowers on Tuesday to be delivered on on Wednesday. And all seemed set.

Until Jools said she wanted to buy some dollars, and went online to do the BACS transfer.

Have you bought me flowers?

The transactions said "interflora", seemed silly to deny it. So, the secret was out, the only mystery now was whether they would be delivered in time.

Jools left for work, leaving me at home with the sleeping cats. Situation normal.

I worked as normal, had lunch at just gone nine, I heard the cold mashed potato calling me, so I fried that up, along with the lone sausage and a couple of slices of fried bread and two fried eggs. Unhealthy, but wonderful. I did not eat for the rest of the day, until the evening.

I was going to go on the cross trainer, but was waiting for a package to arrive from work, a home office kit; two screens, keyboard and docking station. So I could not go for a walk, or put headphones on least I miss the delivery. Which never came.

I wait for Jools to come back, have a shower then at half six we go out for dinner.

I asked Jools where she would like to go, and after some thinking said Stourmouth to the Rising Sun. So it was there we went, to Sandwich, to Preston then along the bed of the old Wantsum Channel to Stourmouth, on the banks of the Stour, now some three miles from the actual mouth of the river. Long story, will tell it one day.

There were 50 empty tables, just as well as we had not booked, and took our place in the smaller dining room. We order a pan of paella to share, and drinks, Not to share. And we talk about the wedding, who we remembered came and the other stuff of that hectic time.

The food came and was splendid; too much of course, but lovely. We even made room for cheeseboard each, and just about finished them off between us.

Jools drove us back by the light of the half full moon, arriving home at half nine, just as Norwich scored their winning goal at Reading.

Hurrah.

We stay up to listen to the game, or I do, Jools already in bed by the time the game ends and City are victorious.

Splendid day, even if we did have to work.

The beginning of the end. Of May.

Today, Donald Tusk, the EU President, formally rejected May’s Chequers paper saying it threatened the Single Market. Bear in mind that May had said it’s my deal or no deal. So, I guess that means there will be no deal, but again, both sides know that is madness. Both sides want to do a WA and TA, but how to do it to keep all sides in the UK and the EU27 on side at the same time.

Good luck with that.

May had previously today said that there was no prospect of concluding an agreement on the Irish border backstop before the middle of November, and as Tusk was hoping to formally announce the Formal Council meeting for November where they would officially send the WA for ratification by the EU27, but there is no prospect of there being a WA to ratify by then.

The French President, Macron, then added: “Brexit is the choice of the British people... pushed by those who predicted easy solutions... Those people are liars. They left the next day so they didn’t have to manage it” He added "Those who say we can easily live without Europe, that everything is going to be alright, that it's going to bring a lot of money home are liars"

This has always been his view. In Oct he said :"those who wanted Brexit never told the British people what the cost would be"

Ouch.

And the Dutch PM stated that the Netherlands was better prepared for Brexit that the UK. Which is plainly true, but lays open that stark truth.

What happens now is anyone’s guess, but so much for the easiest deal in history, as the lying bastard known as Liam Fox once said.

Back in the UK, the Government is planning a bonfire of rights and standards, as was always going to happen.

All this above means that the EU have thrown May under a bus. Up to this point they have strung her along, to give the impression she had a chance in getting the WA and TA that she clearly feel the country needs. The EU, in fact, have not changed their tune in what they want, and under the endless pressing by the UK that they should break their own red lines, have refused.

In the short term, May will be able to paint herself has the wronged party in this, how she was willing to give to the EU and they would not budge. But in negotiations, you must know, understand and respect their red lines, and negotiate around them. But, the UK thinking the world and the EU revolved round our country, thought that just by being UK meant that the other side should give way.

May is still PM, but has not been in power for some time now, if ever at all, but now is a dead woman walking, and is only a matter of time before a vote of no confidence is called and either a Brexiteer "takes over" or there is an election to be called.

And all this was predicted and could be avoided. But who listens to experts these days.

Some dark days ahead, much jingoistic rhetoric to come, but reality is still there, waiting, to embrace, to smother all Brexiteers.

Tuesday 18th September 2018

Tuesday.

Market day in Kings Lynn.

Working from home, situation normal.

And for the day the wind did blow.

Yes, the first of the autumn storms did sweep through, the first of the three on consecutive days here in Kent, though Ireland and Scotland will get it worse than us, even if it can get blowy up here on the downs.

You know the score by now, up in the dark, drink coffee, feed the cts, try to wake up and be ready for work at eight, or earlier if needed.

The cats make themselves scarce once they have been fed, and I don't see either of them until late afternoon. Which was nice.

Even if it was windy, it was warm, but no chance of having the doors or windows open, as it seemed the wind was going to wrench them off.

So I work away, answering mails and messages, somehow this taking up all of the morning.

I have jam and crisp sandwiches for lunch, as that is what my inner child demanded, thus recreating birthday parties of my youth when sweet and savoury could be mixed up inbetween mouthfuls of fizzy pop. As you do.

I have lots of work to do, or enough to keep me at the coalface through the morning and into the afternoon, and be on call to take phonecalls.

As you do.

Too windy to go out for a walk, so I watch an arts documentary on the i player, as I am cultured and sophisticated, and have a pack of cheese and onion crisps as I watch it. At least I was dressed!

Dinner was bangers and mash, cooked to the soundtrack of the commentary for the first round of group games in the CL, with Spurs doing a Spurs, just after Hoddle says, Spurs can#'t lose now. Two goals in injury time meant they did.

Liverpool did better against PSG, despite throwing a two goal lead away, scoring a last minute winner of their own. Even Jools said it sounded exciting.