Tuesday 30th August 2022

Growing up, Last Night of the Proms came round the same week at my parent's wedding anniversary, so sitting down to watch it with them seemed a celebration in itself.

But it also begs the question, if there is a last night then there must be other nights before it. And every year too.

And of course, the Proms is an annual event, even if for me it is part of that mysterious world of classical music.

Or was.

A few years back, the creator of Family Guy, Seth MacFarlane, did an evening of Hollywood show tunes after spending years recreating the scores after they were thrown away.

And in most years now, there is something on that is not classical.

Two years ago, one of our favourite bands, Public Service Broadcasting, were approached to create a piece to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the BBC which was to fall in 2022.

And Tuesday night was to be the only performance of the piece "The New Noise" at the Royal Albert Hall, and we had tickets.

It did mean, for Jools finishing work early, I did my usual seven and a half with no lunch, finishing at three, so we were able to leap into the car, once she had changed, to nip to Dover Priory to catch the train to that London.

We made it.

The train came in, we got on and waited for it to go back through Harbour Tunnel.

Despite it being still the summer holidays, the train was lightly loaded, with plenty of room, although Folkestone was busier than Dover.

Once we arrived in London, we dived down to the undercroft to grab a table at Yo Sushi, where, being hungry we ordered lots of food.

Popcorn shrimp, Korean chicken, a selection of salmon and tuna sushi.

We were still a bit hungry, so we ordered a curry: katsu chicken for Jools and teriyaki beef for me.

Standard or large? We were asked.

Jools said large, so then did I.

Large came with a lot of beef. And rice. And sliced chillies.

It was darn good, but too much.

We walked through the station and down into the Underground station under Euston Road, down to the Piccadilly line for the twenty minute run to Knightbridge.

The train was rammed, and had no air con.

Sweaty.

From the station, out in the cooler evening air, it was a twenty minute yomp up to the Royal Albert Hall, where our friends, Justin and Vicky were waiting, as we had a couple of spare tickets. And thanks to messages exchanged we knew exactly where they were.

We met with handshakes and hugs, and after some good chat went round to the door to enter, where drinks were bought before we sought out or seats.

The RAH is an amazing place, holding thousands and yet with great acoustics. We settled into our seats in the stalls and waited. We had half an hour.

The orchestra took their places, warmed up, then the four members of the band came on stage.

All was quiet until the conductor was given the signal that we were now live on Radio 3.

And then.

Then.

70 minutes of music, excerpts of sound and a visual accompaniment, as the band went through a history of the Beeb, Lord Reith and all.

The final piece was based around what it would be like if the BBC did not exist any more, and there are those in power who want to see it end.

Cultural vandals the lot of 'em.

The concert ended, the lights came on and we filed out.

We said our goodbyes to Justin and Vicky, and we walked down towards Knightsbridge. But Jools; heel was playing up, so we flagged a cab down, and he took us across town to Euston Road to St Pancras.

We went down Park Lane for sure, passing weary looking American tourists struggling along, passing then through huge mansions with guards before picking up Euston Road and heading past the station, the British Museum to St Pancras.

We had missed a direct train by mere seconds, so would have an hour to wait for the next one, but in 25 minutes there was a Margate train that stopped at Ashford, and we could catch a stopper to Dover, getting back ten whole minutes earlier than had we waited for the direct train.

So, we went to the 'Spoons in the station, I checked the footy, and found City had scored a 95h minute winner at Brum to go second.

The Leffe draft tasted even better.

We piled on the train and sank into a seat, and dozed as it filled up, pulling out at twelve minutes past ten.

God, we were so tired.

Ashford at ten to eleven is a grim place, even in summer, but eight minutes later our train came in, we climbed on with the drunks and dregs, and once underway, the darkness helped the windows reflect our bloodshot eyes back at us.

We arrived back in Dubris at half eleven, the car was a short walk away, and home a five minute drive.

There was a feline welcoming party, I fed them, before we both climbed the stairs and closed our eyes with a loud sigh

It was already Wednesday.

Monday 29th August 2022

The weather early yesterday did not seem good enough for a walk. Some more light rain, heavy clouds and a keen breeze.

The cloud was the most worrisome as Gentians only open their tiny flowers when sunny.

But, mid-morning with some chores done, the sun comes out and Jools dropped me off at the Monument, where to my surprise, I found nearly 100 Autumn Lady's Tresses in flower, and looking fabulous too.

I take some shots, then walk down the track beside the fence, in the hope of seeing some flowers in bloom. What I did get was within 10m of a Wheatear, and even with the macro, a half decent photo.

It was busy, with lots of people out, even still no one else was using this path,

So I came to the gate leading from St Maggies into Kingsdown.

This is where the Gentians should be.

I began to look.

And look.

And look again.

And just as I had given up, one final glance showed something light lilac next to the path: the smallest spike of Autumn Gentian, just two inches high with a single flower open.

But it counts!

All I had to do then was to walk back home.

I tightened my shoelaces and began to climb to the gate, then turning inland beside the golf course where people were hitting tiny balls with sticks whilst wearing fancy dress.

Fancy.

The turn along the long narrow path that runs parallel with the clifs until it meets the path between our hosue and the Monument. Overhead, dark clouds were gathering and there was a hint of rain in the air.

And by the time I reached the top of the Dip, it was raining. I texted Jools to let her know I was about 20 minutes away at the Dip: did I want picking up?

It seemed over the top, but my legs said that might be a good idea, so I said to meet me at Fleet House, and began the climb down to the dried mud bath at the bottom and up the other side, by which time rain was falling a little heavier.

There was Jools, waiting with the car. So I climed in and off we went, along Collingdale and down to our street.

Before leaving I had made the batter for fritters, so that just needed cooking. Meanwhile, outside, the clouds had cleared and the sun shone brightly again.

We have lunch whilst listening to the radio, and drinking wine.

A combination of 10,000 steps and two glasses of red meant the afternoon was a battle to stay awake.

I lay on the sofa to listen to a podcast, and my eyes closed.

Not much else to report for the day.

We had pizza for supper with a beer for me. Then a game of cribbage in which I won.

Finally, I put the badger food out, topped up the birdseed and set the moth trap.

Darkness now has arrives by quarter to eight.

Sunday 28th August 2022

Part two of a three day weekend!

Jool's boss, Andy has been off ill for 11 months, and yesterday was his birthday, so we were to go to Ashford to drop off his card and present from work.

Andy is now getting ready for the implanting of his stem cells, now that chemo has finished, just eed to sort the other issues out first. This will not be quick.

To make matters worse, Andy is twenty years younger than his partner, and used to do so much for her and her disabled son. We do wonder how they have coped, but due to COVID and his reduced immunity, we have not been able to go round, but maybe this is not the beginning of the last stage of his treatment.

We had planned to go to Sheppy to visit Harty, walk to look for dragonflies, and for me to revisit Harty church, and all seemed good, until the weather had other ideas. After weeks of no rain, and despite there being none forecasted, clouds did gather and rain did fall as we drove to Folkestone and onto the M20.

Rain fell harder, and the clouds to the north looked full of rain, or as my Grandparents would say, "it's getting black over Willy's Mothers'" Make of that what you will.

Andy lives in a quiet cul-de-sac on a modern estate, the kind that surrounds Ashford. We drove slowly to number 29, rang the bell, but not no answer, so we left the card and wine on the doorstep.

Jools snet a text to Andy saying we'd been, and half an hour later he replied saying he's been in all morning and no one rang, as he lived at 19.

D'oh.

He later said he walked round to pick up the card and present, so all was good.

By that time the clouds had cleared and we were on our way to Faversham, then onto the M2 to Sheppy.

Shepp, once known as the Isle of Sheep, hence Sheppy, is connected to the mainland by two bridges, one serving both road and rail was being built when my Dad was a young soldier and had to attend a funeral there, but recently a new dual-carriageway bridge leaps over the old one and the River Swale, easing traffic onto the island. Once over the bridge you are back on the same old outdated road network.

Most heads north to Queenborough and Sheerness, but we would head east, along the island to Harty, where the low land meets the mud of the Swale opposite Ore.

From the main road to Leysdown, the lane to Hart crosses the marshes, subsidence had made the road be more like a rollercoaster, or one wit low summits. After a while it climbs to slightly higher ground, through farms and then down to the edge of the island. This is Harty, where there is a pub, the church, a farm and a handful of other houses.

It has been nine years since we were last here.

We had come really for dragonflies, but as we park near the church, it seemed only right to go in.

I now see it for so much more, especially the south chapel, with wooden chest and table.

At the end of a six mile dead end lane, on the way to the ferry that used to like Harty with Faversham, now traffic uses the two bridges at Swale.

No mails electricity or water, you have to drive through a farm to get here.

Is peaceful.

St Thomas is one of the Kent churches I have visited the most, but not in nearly a decade, so it was surprising how much more detail I noticed this time. Before I used just the wide angle lens, and this time the fifty so to record the details.

After finishing my shots, I go back to the car, fit the macro on the camera and we set out to walk to the sea wall. It was then obvious that the wind had increased to the point that seeing dragons or butterflies seemed unlikely.

But a walk is never wasted, so we pressed on.

And in a short sheltered spot, I saw two what I thought were Common Darters, but turned out to be Ruddy Darters, identifiable by their black legs I now realise.

I take shots.

But the dragon rich area we remembered from a decade ago is all overgorwn now, and no path leads through it.

So we turn back for the car.

In the same place as the Ruddy Darters had been seen, I think there is nothing about, but I see a flash of blue, and see that it was a male Migrant Hawker, resting.

I get shots, each few taken I inch closer and closer, until it thinks that was enough and flew off.

That was the last of the shots.

We walk back along the farm track, with the wind hitting us from the right, whipping up dust.

Back in the car, we agree that the plan was to go home, so I take us back to the Kingsferry Bridge, up and over, back onto the mainland, but stopping at the services for snacks, and showing why you should never shop when hungry as I bought: two sandwiches, two tikka slices, two packs of crisps and two bottles of pop.

We ate well as we drove dwon the motorway back home. One of the sandwiches we didn't eat, we would save that for another day.

Back home we have a brew and a chocolate bar, and somehow I have timed it to be back home in time for kick off in the afternoon's games.

How odd

Anyway, Wolves drew with Newcastle, then Spurs beat Forest 2-0, Forest who have signed 17 (seventeen) playes so far this summer, looked good technically, but lacked understanding of how each other played.

And that was that.

I made chorizo hash for dinner, with it we had fizz.

And another day drew to an end.

One week to go

One week until we find out which wraith will rule over us, deatheaters both of them, chosen by other wraiths and deatheaters who care only for themselves and their re-election in two and a half years time.

For the meantime, we have been concentrating on the cost of living crisis for domestic users, but at least their energy is "capped", but for commercial users there is no cap, and some are sing demands for 10x increases in energy. And that's just for October. Increases in January and April next year could mean more multiple increases.

Many in the hospitality industry just won't survive. Coming after COVID, many are barely hanging on, but with this on top, and no real prospect of custom levels remaining anything like normal, tens of thousands will fail. And the jobs that go with them will fail too.

I see nothing short of the potential collapse of the economy.

Possibly.

We just have to hope the right wrath, deatheter or lizard gets in and puts the people and the country before them and their party.

Remember, tax cuts will only benefit those who actually pay taxes, and will benefit more those who pay more tax.

And then there would be nothing to proect businesses.

We are so screwed.

So, enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.

Saturday 27th August 2022

Last weekend, I was going to cheat on the one true love of my life.

I had been invited to attend a football match in that London, where I was to meet an old friend and someone who is a member of the GWUK group and was over for a short break.

The game was Charlton (Athletic) v Cambridge United, for whom Wessi graced the pitch until last season, though he since retired.

I have no trouble in attending a game a neutral, Simin is a huge Cambridge fan and has written for WSC about the club, I have dark thoughs about Charlton and their refusal to let tens of thousands of Norwich fans have tickets in 2010 to see us promoted.

I still hold that grudge.

Anyway, I did feel a little dirty in cheating on Norwich, doubly so as I have no renewed any kind of membership for the last two seasons. Last year was just so painful I hardly watched them at all.

But on Saturday, City were on the telebox again, playing Sunderland, and two of the neighbours, Bev and Steve, well Steve and their son are Sunderland fans, and they invited me round to watch the game with them.

That is joining our two neighbours of 15 years to watch a game that I an theny were emotionally involved in the two teams. This is the things that neighbourhood wars are born of.

Maybe.

Bev is much more sensible, in that she is a Liverpool fan, and it is her and their other son's shouts I hear when the 'Pool are playing and score, 45 seconds before my video feed shows the action.

So, there were no other plans made, other than at midday I would go with armfulls of beer, wearing a Pukki shirt and a scarf, with dark thoughts of watching them dancing round the their living room as Sunderland rattling in their goals.

Before then there was coffee, shopping, more coffee and breakfast and maybe some early lunch so to soak up the beer that would be drink.

You know the drill by now. Tesco was quiet, shelves pretty full, though goods pulled to the front so looked full, and things getting more expensive. £122 for a week's shop, and nothing really expensive. And filling the car cost £55 and that was only half full.

Back home for breakfast of bacon butties and coffee, whilst listening to the wireless, and for once, not having anything to rush out for.

Lunch was cold sausage rolls, very nice with a huge brew, and I hoped would soak up the beer, a keg of Stella that would keep refiling our glasses through the afternoon.

I went round and we all made comfortable in the living room, the huge TV showing the game in super hi-def or whatever Sky calls it.

We had our first beer:

Cheers.

And may the best team win!

The two teams ran out onto the pitch, shhok hands and lined up.

And for the next 45 minutes Sunderland tried to show how many "nearly" goals they could clome close to scoring: twice off the woodwork, cleared off the line and so on and on. Norwich looked a shadow with just two chances.

At half time it was still 0-0, but Sunderland should have had two or three.

That they didn't meant that the second half should be interesting, I made the remark about bringing on Pukki and Cantwell in the second half, and Hudgell hadn't even made the bench. And it was that bench and the quality it contained that meant after an hour, the triple change made by Norwich and Sunderland tiring, City took control, passed the ball about and created chances.

Sunderland had created one early in the 2nd half where it seemed harder to miss than score, they did miss, but on 76 minutes, the ball was crossed into the Sunderland box and Sargent volleyed the ball into the onion bag.

1-0.

I stayed for a while, drinking a third pint as the main group of games kicked off, before going home to see Jools. Liverpool were already 2-0 up against Bournemouth. It ended 9-0, and a reminder how hard life can be in the Prem when you're shit.

Back home we had the blackberry and apple crumble whilst I listened to the football, then watched Arsenal play.

The day faded.

Not much else to report really.

That we had more rain. An hour's worth, so hard it seeemd like mist had falled. The BBC promised us there was a 6% chance or rain.

At this rate the lawn'll be green again soon.

Friday 26th August 2022

Happy unbirthday.

So, back to work and what to do about what happened yesterday?

I called my boss, soon to be ex-boss, and he said I have done noting wrong and did what was expected.

Which helped.

So, I replied to the mail and set about doing something else.

Something else was arranging travel to Denmark next month, and imagine my surprise to find that the British Airways direct flight between London City and Billund is back running, so instead of taking all day to tavel there and back, it would be 90 minutes.

That put me in a better mood.

Meanwhile, Jools didn't have yoga, but covering for Donna meant she left at half six, I put on the radio that we missed the night before, and so the day went quite well.

I had breakfast and all in all, life was good.

I made sausage rolls for lunch, using a pack of pre-made pastry and a pack of wild garlic sausages, which I had at one with the rolls just cool enough to eat, sitting on the patio the working day having ended.

At two, Jools came back, we had a brew then went for a walk.

Yes, a walk. First one this week.

Up Station Road, then taking the track past the USAAF war memorial, hoping to see plenty of butterflies. But, a few seen on the wing, but none sttled, possibly as floweres were few and far between.

We went up to Windy Ridge then along Green Lane where there would usually be hudred, just a handful seen, and none settled again.

Down the slope, past the farm and then along the top of The Dip, though itself was out of site, and bac across the fields to home.

It was officially hot again.

Jools went for a haircut, so meanwhile I prepared three bags of cooking palles we got last week, then cooked them with two tubs of blackberries picked from the highways and byways around our neighbourhood. The small apples took some peeling, but once done, I put them in a pan with the berries, some sugar, then bring to the boil and simer for a while.

Jools is going to make a crumble over the weekend, so once cooked we let the fruit cool down.

And after the music quiz, we go to Jen's for supper and cards, and with Sylv now home in Bury, there is less confusion.

Supper is lasagne and oven chips, and the bottle of beer I took turned out to be English white sparking wine, and very fruity it was, though I shared it around.

Cards is good, Jools and I end up again, and happy.

Thursday 25th August 2022

As a child, my birthday would coincide wit Oulton Broad Regatta, ehich meant that on Bank Holiday Monday, the Red Arrows would grace the skies above our house.

Of course, I would kid myself that they came really to celebrate my birthday. I would stand at the field and wave to the pilots of the gnats as they flew over at about 100 feet, or so it seemed.

So, my birthday was something I would look forward to, and yet it also meant that the apparently endless summer school holiday was coming to and end, and the next week, or a few days later, we would go back and have to run around in mud pretending to be Kevin Keegan or Peter Lorimer.

So, bitter sweet.

When I was up and sipping the first coffee, Jools said maybe we should have our birthdays off from now on.

I think she was right.

So, she got ready for work, and as Donna had the week off, she went in earlier to ensure she kept up with work and mails.

I was in a good mood, logged on for work after my second coffee, and there was a mail brom my boss's boss, and in it he rejected, it total, the work I have been doing for eight months, and for added measure stated he expected it to be redone in a week, and professionally this time.

That hurt.

Bad.

I write more about work these days, so to show what it really is like, not to say how shit it is, but things I have to deal with. There is more. Much more. Much worse I could say, but don't, just what I am doing in my day to day stuff.

My boss, unaware of that wished me happy birthday and expressed surprise that I was in work on my birthday. I said I would log off when I had done my work for the day.

I decded that would be sooner rather than later, so arranged audits and made calls, and at 11, logged off, made lucnh of fried aubergine, which I ate with one then another glass of red wine.

Then, with the radio on, I lay on the sofa and went to sleep. Or snoozed.

We were supposed to have a day of rain and storms. But what storms there were drifted northwards to the west of us, and none formed over France then came our way. The skies cleared and the sun came out.

Jools came back at half five, she had a shower, changed so we were all ready to go out at half six, for the short drive to the Swingate Inn for curry.
Waiting outside was Jen, laden with a present of three large bottles of beers.

Cheers.

We went in, and were shown to the table near the kitchen, which being open plan meant we could look in as ours, and other's meals, were cooked.

I had lamb kebab with some minty yogurt sauce, which was very nice. That was followed by a really spicy lamb dish, the hottest they do, with rice and garlic naan.

Yummy.

We left at half ight, back home in ear darkness as the year marches on, back home to sit in the garden, where I sip sloe gin as we watch planes passing overhead.

Quite the day.

If the cap fits

The UK is about to enter a period of uncertainty.

Of that we can be certain about.

Today, OFGEm announced the energy "cap" is to be raised to £3549 a year. Up from £1200 just in March.

Pain and simple, this is unaffordable for millions of familes and they can't pay. Millions more say they're not going to pay.

If the bill for domestic users is bad enough, commercial and industrial users face uncapped rises, which is putting many in retail and entertainmanet sectors under real threat. Even if existing customer and income levels were to go on.

But everyone will be spending less.

Much less on things like entertainment, eating out, going to the pub.

Meanwhile, the Government is missing in inaction.

There is ten days of the leadershop contest remaining, and those in post have gone on holiday.

No Ministers were available to do the usual round of media this morning before the announcement on the cap increase. And all we hear now is that "help is on its way". Theough outgoing PM, Johnson, said on another of his frequent to Ukraine that they are dodging bombs and missles, so Brits paying higher bills is something we should be thankful for.

Something only an entitled millionaire could even think was the right thing to say.

Wednesday 24th August 2022

Wednesday.

And the first part of us spending to reduce our outgoings.

We had a woodburning fire already, but turns out there was no flue in the chimney, or incorrectly fitted, which mean the sweep condemmed it last time he came.

And with the cost of gas set to triple, we thought that we should do something.

We are waiting to have solar panels fitted, but before then the new burner was to be fitted.

Jools went to work, well, swimming first, at six. I had coffee and breakfast.

I had been awake since three, worrying about a new task at work, and trying to figure how I could get it done. So, I lay there for two hours until the alarm went off, my mind doing 100mph.

So, I wasn't in a good mood. Tetchy. And there was the working day to get through. But that wasn't too bad.

And the guys came at eight, and began to work. Spreading out dust sheets, then dismantling the old burner, taking the pieces out, and then taking the stumpy liner out of the chimney.

And then fitting the new liner. One of them rattles up a ladder and feeds the metal tube down, while the other guy waits and gets a face-full of soot for his trouble.

The put the new fire in, connect it all up.

And done just before lunch.

I work on.

I have to say that the fire look spendid in the fire place. We just need to get some wood and give it a test drive.

Work goes on, ending in more meetings, over-running to half three.

I decide that dirty food, chips, was needed, so instead of noodles I make fried potatoes to go with the fish cakes and fresh corn, while I have a large bottle of frosy Hoegaarden.

Yummy.

The evening was just a question of whether I would last until nine before going to bed. Quarter to, at half time in the football.

It was already dark.

I fell asleep quickly.

17 years

17 years ago I celebrated my 40th birthday in Las Vegas with friends from Arkansas.

We drank, we gambled, ate well, smoked cigars and took in a show.

This was in my last month as a member of HM Forces. I had accumilated various bouts of leave, so in the end had three months off, of which I spent nine weeks in the US.

I met with my friend in New Hampshire.

We drove up a mountain.

Watched whales.

Drove to Niagara Fall.

Went to the Adirondacks.

Went to the Ben and Jerry Factory in Vermont.

Then I flew to Seattle and after a four day stay, I drove a Mustang convertable down route 101 via the Olympic Peninsular, Mt Rainier, Portland Or, Astoria, Crater Lake, the Oregon coast, Mt St Helens, San Francisco, Big Sur, Nappa Valley ending up in Los Angeles four weeks later.

Then I flew to Arkansas.

From where we left for a three day party in Vegas to celebrate my birthday.

So, I have been out of the Mob 17 years, I served 15 years. 32 years since I left the chicken factory.

A lifetime.

At quarter to eight this evening, I reach 57 years, the same age as my Dad and his Father died of heart attacks.

I tell myself I take after Mum's side of the family.

Tonight we go out for a curry.

Tuesday 23rd August 2022

A day which began dull and normal, and ended with chaos with just about the whole company trying to talk to me.

What did I do wrong?

We shall see.

Tuesday, and I had a whole load of stuff to do, though not that much I thought I would spend the last 5 hours in meetings. But that to come.

Not only did I sleep through the alarm, I slept through Jools getting up, making coffee, feeding the cats and the sun rising. Getting up at half six as she went for a shower.

I had half an hour before work.

I had a long conversation with my colleague, Henrik, as his kid brother has been moved into a hospice and so not expected to last the week. His brother is about my age, doesn't sound right.

And yet we are all getting older.

How older?

Well, on a lighter note, as I lay in bed this morning, I thought how ticket prices for football matches are now crazy. In the Prem, an average ticket can set you back £100, more if you have really good seats. Or in London. In Norwich it's about £50. On the 1st October 1983, Norwich played hosts to Manchester United, who my friend, Simon, supported. We splashed out on tickets in the old Main Stand, and it cost us £4.00 each. In 1986, for my 21st birthday, my parents bought me a season ticket in the River End, for 21 games it cost £50.

I ay there thinking, 1983 isn't that long ago, and then I remember it was 39 years ago. It's like my Granddad telling me about something that happened to him at the beginning of the 1930s. All relevant, I suppose.

Season tickets now start at £534 at Norwich, is that a resonable price rise over 39 years?

I don't think so.

I was going to go out for a walk. After lunch I thought, and then the meetings started.

And didn't stop.

All work had been brought forward and I had to send what I had by first thing in the morning. I had to make some last minute changes, so got an extra hour or two. Then my boss calls and wants me to take on 5 (five) audits, with possible two weeks travel to Denmark. In 12 days time!

As ever, details were thin on the ground, and that would be the source of my bad night's sleep later that evening as my brain thought it good to fret about it at three in the morning.

Sigh.

There is ever more Hummingbird hawkmoths to be seen in the garden, sometimes two at once. I take more shots.

Of course.

And then it was the evening, time to pack away, sit in the sun a bit, then prepare dinner which was caprese and garlic bread, and as it turned out, I had been nowhere, the feast is my picture of the day.

We tidy up and I settle down to follow Norwich in the League cup, with weariness took over me, and I went to bed at nine, early in the second half, with the scroes level at 1-1. City went on to lose on penalties.

Focus on the league, Billy.

Three slogans of the Party

DAG is usually on the money in his posts, and yesterday he remarked how in 1983, the three slogans of the party were:

WAR IS PEACE

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

"But they are perfect, in their ways, for they cover and anticipate what may otherwise disprove them.

These are the slogans of politicians who are utterly unafraid of it being pointed out that the opposite is the case to what they are claiming."

Johnson's, and soon to be Triss's Government have their own slogans:

FREE TRADE

LAW AND ORDER

FREE SPEECH

And like in 1984, these mean the opposite to what the electorate think them to mean, of the Govenment says they mean.

How can this Government stand for free trade when it puts barriers up with our closest and largest volume trading partners?

How can the Government stand for law and order when it cuts the number of police, closes dozens of Crown Corts and has underfunded the Legal System to the point barristers go on indefinitive strike from September 5th.

And Free Speech, when the Government passes law after law reducing free speech, the ability to protest or question the actions of the Government or the Executive.

People nod along because they think Johnson, et al, are on their side, silencing the speech of people who disagree with what they say, but in time, they will be silenced too.

Brexit was supposed to have brough nirvana, higher wages, and more money for everyone. Instead, real wages have dropped, standards of living dropping like a stone and inflation to top 18% over the winter.

But Johnson got all the big calls right.

Got Brexit done.

Got the country through COVID.

Gave the monarch unlawful advice.

Signed trade deals on worse terms than we had as EU member state.

200,000 people died from COVID, and it's not over.

Excess death rate the highest in the G7.

Delays to justice now getting longer, serious sexual assault cases can take up to four years to come to court, thus denying victims justice and the accused the chance to clear their name.

Instead, the enemeis are: immigrants, wokeness, the EU, The Civil Service. And so on. Just so you don't look at them.

They'd rather you get angry about workperson than the fact that there were 200,000 largely avoidable deaths, and Dido Harding somehow managed to spen £37 billion on test and trace that did't work, and tens of billions more on dodgy PPE contracts.

But what about them immigrants, eh?

When we care that we are being lied to, that Conservatives care, that people matter, that truth matters, we will be fucked.

Good and proper.

Monday 22nd August 2022

Welcome to the working week.

Again.

On this week in 1983, I finished my YOP scheme, working in an electrical shop where I found the true meaning of dead end job.

First day I was told there was no chance of a full time job, but it was eight pounds a week more than doing nothing at home. So I learned the tricks of the trade, how not to wire a plug and drive slowly down the prom on a delivery.

So, suddenly eight whole pounds a week worse off.

But, 39 years later and I am being paid a king's ransome for doing what I do. And when I work out what I do I will let you know.

There was a question on FB asking, in a sentence describe what job you do. I answered that I tell other people they're doing they're job wrong.

Which about covers it.

We were up at half five, Jools getting ready to leave before six so she could go swimming, and I could get ready for a day at the coalface.

I make a strong second cup of coffee and log on.

Not much had happened over the weekend.

There was no cooking to do, as I had left over Moroccan rice and KFC to feast on for lunch, at leat for two lunches, so just have to make sure I have breakfast, more coffee and then the occasional brew.

Its not a hard life.

Last week I snapped what I thought to be spearmint, but turned out, maybe, to be the much rarer Pennyroyal. But as I had the camera on the wrong settings, I had to go and retake the shots.

On the way I found much Ivy in flower, and all a buzz with insects all looking to feed from tis small flowers. This is a sign that summer is nearly over, as its this which I think used to trigger my extreme allergies, but not much longer now I have the spray.

So, I snap the Ivy and walk over the fields, past a dozen people taking a break from some long distance walk, but clearly knowing they looked suspicious, and trying to look as though they had every right to be there.

I wished them good morning, and walked on.

I got the shots of the suspect Pennyroyal, and walked back home as I had not one, but two separate back aches, arriving home, having a cold drink and thought about lunch of rice and chicken.

I worked through to three, then finished and went to repair the shed, which needed some TLC as the screws holding the door on were coming out. So, armed with a screwdriving and bigger screws, I grollied on some new ones.

Seemed to work.

I sat with Scully, we watch the butterflies and Hummingbird hawkmoths flitting about, I was even tempted to go and take a few shots.

Dinner was smoked haddock, cooked in the oven with butter, pepper and fresh lemon juice, boiled potatoes and fresh corn.

All yummy.

All set for the evening with the much anticipatedgame between Man Utd and Liverpool, which Liverpool were expected to win by a cricket score.

Of course, in the end, it was different and Utd won 2-1, should have been more, but maybe crisis over.

The blob

After spending most of the last six years blaming anyone and everyone else for their various policy failures, the UK Government has come up with a new one:

The Blob.

The Blob is some kind of ill-defined entity that inhabits whatever you are taking about, that resists all efforts by the Government or its Ministers to improve, and thus the failure of the same can be put down to "The Blob". Be that the NHS Blob, the Civil Service Blob and so on and on.

I guess the water idustry is another Blob that with that there would be no sewage on our beaches or our rivers. Only it seems that the Environmental Minister in 2017, a certain Liz Truss cut the compliance budget for Ofwat to drive efficiency.

Wonder if the Liz Truss is who expected to become Leader of the Tories and then the new PM knows of this useless other Liz Truss who acted without thought of the consequences?

Which is why we are where we are as a country, when useless Liz Truss can follow the also useless Boris Johnson into 10 Downing Street, who followed the not quite so useless Theresa May, who by comparisson was a political titan.

The last decent PM we had was Gordon Brown wh did not win re-election after calling a woman who said bigoted things an actual bigot. And the guy who followed Brown, Ed Milliband was deemed not good enough because he was photographed eating a bacon butty badly.

May, Johnson and now Truss will fuck the country so badly, and yet imagine the chaos we would have had under a Milliband lead Government.

If only.

Sunday 21st August 2022

So, as the churchcrawling restarted on Saturday, so the final curtain was to be brought down on the orchid season on Sunday, as I hosted the final group meet of members of the FB Kent Orchid group.

The group has grown from being an information site for my photographer friends, to morphing into a group for orchidists, who now number 363. And even if I say so myself, we are a pretty happy, polite group.

And in order to avoid the dogwalkers, I thought we would have the meet at 11:00 rather than crack of sparrahs, which as it happened, enabled me to go to Folkestone for a haircut before.

And with nights cooling down, I slept very well, and woke well rested, for the first time in what seemed like months. But as it turned out, that wouldn't stop me struggling to stay awake in the afternoon in front of the football.

Jools went swimming at quarter to seven, and was back by eight so we could have a fine breakfast of fruit followed by croissants, of course. And coffee. All so I would be ready to drive to Folkestone at nine and be outside the shop when it opened.

I drove the quiet way along the Alkham Valley, and so was stuck behind a van I tried to overtake on what I thought was a clear stretch of road, I only saw the car coming the other way at the last minute.

I lived to tell the tale.

And into Folkstone where parking near the harbour was already filling up as our Kentish beaches are still clean, possibly, but I parked near the top of the Old High Street, then walked up the the shop, waiting outside for ten minutes until the guys opened.

Even the guy was surprised by how long my hair was, and thich with it. It fell like leaves in the fall.

I paid the man and made my escape, back down the hill to the car, then rushing back along the Alkham Valley before turning through Temple Ewell to the car park, where I find just one space free, and a whole load of people with cameras and binoculars hanging about.

Not waiting for me, I hoped.

These were butterfly chasers, and had come from all over Kent to seek the Silver Spotted Skippers, I spoke to the leader and told him of the ALTs there. Later he would tank me on Twitter saying how nice and helpful I had been.

Nice man.

Both of us.

Once they left, the orchidists began to arrive, numbering half that of the butterfly chasers, but our prey would not fly off.

We walked up the down, then along to the meadow, dropping down to where the little twisty spikes were. We spread out and got our shots, but I went off looking for butterflies.

I did see and snap a male Adonis, and from a distance a SS Skipper, but none to get a good shot of, but a mating pair of Meadow Browns were easier when they struggled to fly off.

And that was that. The others wandered off, and I tried to help on couple find a male Adonis. And being typical, we found two females, but no males basking or on the wing. They gave up and said they'd come back next year. So, we walked back to the car park, and then on our ways. Me back via Tesco to buy some baby new potatoes to go with the salad for lunch.

Jools had that ready, so just had to boil the spuds and serve in a bowl covered in melted butter and coarse sea salt.

Lovely.

And then an afternoon of football with Leeds beating Chelsea 3-0, and then Newcastle holding Citeh to a 3-3 draw. Two great games with lots of action and excitement.

I went to KFC to buy something for supper, and ended up getting a bucket so there would be lots leftover for lunches.

Not a bad weekend, all in all.

Another Brexit bonus?

As I have written about Brexit for over six years, I have covered many issues and mentioned many potential risks.

Now, for the last few weeks, the water industry has been unleashing an environmental disaster on the UK's rivers, streams, lakes and seas, in releasing millions and millions of untreated sewage.

For most of that time, this has been painted as a cost-cutting activity by the water companies, so linked to executive pay and dividends for shareholders.

But.

One of the worries of Brexit, I seem to remember, was the potential shortage of the chemicals needed to treat sewage during treatment.

And for the past 24 hours this seems to be the case.

Not that you would know there is much wrong at the mment as most newspapers are ignoring the disaster as it unfolds, and the BBC making passing reference about the swage being in the sea, but not why.

Context is everything.

So, far from being the sunlit upland utopia, this Goverment, it's shit Ministers, Brexit has turned the UK into Shawshank Prison where to escape you have to swim through raw sewage.

So much winning.

Saturday 20th August 2022

Posting shots of churches we have visited has shown me that my photography has improved now I don't use the ultrawide angle lenses, so many churches need a revisit.

And with the orchid season now at an end, nearly, it is time to turn to churchcrawling.

And the easiest non-Kent church to revisit was Winchelsea, just over the border in East Sussex, also gave us the chance to call in at the fishmongers in Rye for some smoked haddock.

After the early morning coffee and then the rush round Tesco, back home to pack it all away and for me to make bacon butties and another brew.

And then: go west.

Traffic is not so mad now, so it was easy to drive to Folkestone then up the motorway to Ashford, before turning off, past the inland border facility, then out onto the Marsh past Hamstreet.

West of Brookland, the road meanders about, bend after bend, crossing and recrossing the railway until we reach Rye.

We stop to buy the fish, then round the river, over the bridge and out the other side, five miles to Winchelsea, turning off to go up the hill under the old town gate, parking near the village shop.

Whereas Rye was already busy, Winchelsea was quiet, and just past ten meaning the church had just opened.

We walk across the large churchyard through the ruins of the tower and into the church, where the triple wide nave was lines on the north and south walls with fine wall tombs.

I photograph each on in turn, and the corbel heads on each too.

I rephotograph the fine windows too, as despite being modern, they really are on another level.

One or two people come in, a family of three last 30 seconds before the mother and teenage son leave.

After completing the shots, I go out to meet up with Jools so we can walk to the shop to have ice cream, and sit to eat them on a bench looking at the north wall of the church.

That was the task for the day carried out. We would make our way home, via the Marsh and through Old and then New Romney. I wanted to go back to New Romney to photograph the church as there was a party for the WI going on when I was there last with Simon K.

As it happened, it wasn't quite as I imagined, as there was a craft and record fair on.

I know, what are the chances.

But I got to snap more of the details and buy some beetroot chutney, for Jools, and gooseberry jam for me.

Now we would head home.

Traffic crawled along the coast road, and we passed people eating ice creams or sitting outside pubs. But we carried on, through Hythe and past the railway station, up the hill to Westenhanger and onto the motorway to Dover. Cruising at 70, and with the sun shining, it was a fine drive. Coming down into Dover, three ferries were either leaving or reversing onto their berths.

It makes a fine sight, but we would be though the town, along Townwall Street and up Jubilee Way to home.

Once inside, I toast come crumptets and make brews.

Job done.

So, you know what happens now. I try to stay awake though the afternoon listening to the football. And no stress as Norwich had already won the evening before. Jools went swimming, leaving me home alone, where I could put the finishing touches to the lamb tagine I had been making for 24 hours. The meat having been spiced the morning before, and should now we reet tasty.

I mix the sauce and brown the onions, then the lamb, and cook for four hours on a low heat.

It smet glorious before it went into the oven. And an hur before being down, I make cook some rice and put that in the pot too.

We even have fizz with it, and I have to say, another triumph, and enough left over to do two lunches.

Arsenal roll over Bornemouth 3-0 for the evening's entertainment, for me.

It even seemed cool enough to have the duvet back on the bed, and hopefully a good night's sleep ahead.