Thursday 19th February 2026

I did feel better after nearly ten hours sleep.

That being said, it some getting up, and as Jools had a swimming session booked, she left me in bed with Cleo, then me struggling with gravity as I peeled myself out of bed.

Once up, I wanted, nay, needed coffee, so went down to make it, and amazingly, it came out perfect, a perfect balance of caffeine and sweetness.

I checked on the world, it was pretty messed up, though would get worse if you name was Andrew and it was your birthday.

Ahem.

It was another dreary day, low cloud and steady drizzle. I failed to take a shot of the day until I had a beer in the evening.

After ten, we drove over to Sandwich Bay to drop off some books on North American birds, butterflies and flowers, as as long as Trump is in power, I don't think we'll be heading back any time soon.

Guys were repairing pot holes in the track leading to the observatory.

There was no one there I knew, so I left the books, filled in a form, and bought some chocolate, and we left.

Back along the partially flooded roads to Whitfield to pick up a new cat basket we had ordered, as in a week the moggies will be going to kitty prison as we jet off for sunshine and orchids.

Finally, we went to see Jen, as cards seems to have died a death, so we had a brew while we talked, before we said goodbye and we came home so I could peel some potatoes for hash later.

The wind and rain continued, so we did little other than stare out the windows, then I prepared the hash and cooked it, so come two, we sat down to a Spanish feast.

Lovely.

I had another small migraine, but nothing to worry about, outside the day faded. And inside Jools watched more of A Handmaidens Tale, which I have no interest in.

No footy on the tellybox, so early to bed, as for a change, I would be physing it on a Friday morning. And we would have to do the bins.

Wednesday 18th February 2026

Life has been pretty stress free for the past eleven months. I have relaxed, slept well, and even been going to the gym.

But my body has been stopping me from going to sleep, cramps when I lay on my left hand side, meaning that I get less than seven or eight hours sleep despite being in bed.

Normally, this happens on just a couple of nights a week, but Tuesday night was the third in a row, and whilst I have one ocular migraine on Tuesday, Wednesday was another matter.

One in the morning and another late in the afternoon meant I was feeling washed out, and on the run to collect Jools at Priory Station, oncoming headlights seemed too bright.

Anyway, as I write this on Thursday morning, after nearly ten hours sleep, I feel better. Certainly better than I did this time yesterday.

Anyway.

Wednesday.

I was going to go with Jools to Bromley when she went to her craft and chat group up there, but when I took her into town for her class, it was so cold. Being tired didn't help, but there was no way was I going to wander the streets up there going to the church, so I bailed. Jools would go on the train, alone, after her class, and I would stay home.

The wind was in the perfect direction to blow the cat flap open, so it was bitterly cold in the kitchen and living room. I should have gone upstairs to the office, but didn't, instead did stuff on the computer until the first migraine hit.

I took to the sofa and sat with my eyes closed for half an hour, and the migraine drifted away. My eyes were achey, and I had a headache.

Not much computing until darkness began to fall, and as I edited some shots, dots appeared before my eyes and the second arrived.

The cold wind was now accompanied by the first of the rain, which made the drive into town to collect Jools at six all the more unpleasant.

However, I got it done, then once Jools had got off the train, she climbed in the car and we drove home, with the rain falling harder and harder.

Supper was pizza and beer, so not much clearing up. I was going to watch the Wolves v Arse game, but I was so tired, so went to bed instead, so missing the dramatic Wolves comeback to draw 2-2.

Please Please Me (1963)

I may have said this before, but I am and always have been a singles guy. In that I don't really listen to albums, nor never really did.

Very few albums are perfect all the way through, I can think of just a handful.

About a decade ago, Danny Baker did a series of shows where he and a few of his friends selected three albums each to be the best in each genre. Over the course of the three or four shows, I had heard maybe one or two.

Even worse than that, I can say I have never heard a Beatles, Bob Dylan, most Rolling Stones, no Creedence Clearwater Revival, Beach Boys, and so on, albums at all.

I planned a decade ago, to listen to a load of classic albums, and then write about them.

And so here we are.

The Beatles literally changed popular music.

That's not a matter up for debate.

Over the course of eight years they released 12 (twelve) albums, each one a step up in ambition and sophistication.

I believe.

They were given to George Martin to produce, and in him they had someone who knew how to use a studio. Had they been produced by anyone else, the results and history, could've been very different.

On the fourteen tracks on Please Please Me, six were cover versions, and two of the Lennon/McCartney originals were singles. In order to assess this record, we have to put ourselves back in 1963 and the music scene therein. And that's an impossible task, only people who lived through it can tell us what a change The Beatles and their records were, so anything I say now, some sixty three years later is pretty meaningless.

1. "I Saw Her Standing There"
2. "Misery"
3. "Anna (Go to Him)"
4. "Chains"
5. "Boys"
6. "Ask Me Why"
7. "Please Please Me"

Side 2

1. "Love Me Do"
2. "P.S. I Love You"
3. "Baby It's You"
4. "Do You Want to Know a Secret"
5. "A Taste of Honey"
6. "There's a Place"
7. "Twist and Shout"

back in the 1960s, rock or music journalism, was very much in its infancy, bands were beat combos and tunes were described as mid-tempo foot-tappers, or something like that, and so after the exciting opening florish of "I Saw Her Standing There", the mid-tempo foot-tappers take over. Misery is, in my opinion, pretty poor, especially after that opening blast. But maybe its taking things down a notch, as per in "High Fidelity" and the art of the mix tape.

"Anna (Go to Him)" is pretty much of the same ilk as "Misery", but things perk up with Goffin and Kings "Chains", which rattles along.

I didn't know Ringo Starr sang on anything from Please lease Me, so it was a real surprise to hear him lead on "Boys". Which I really like, especially the imploring to George to take it away on the guitar break.

Two originals end side 1, "Ask me Why" and the title track. The former is ok, but we all know Please Please me, and so closes the side in triumph.

"Love me Do", their first single from the previous year kicks off side 2. I always thought it a dirge, doubly so when re-released in 1982 to mart it's 20th anniversary. Here, it sits well, and opens the side well, though is lacking a little get up and go, but the harmonica sounds good, as the instrument did on other tracks.

In "P.S. I Love You" and "Babt It's You", we return to the mid-tempo stuff again, and maybe it was because I was expecting something with a bit more oomph. When I was listening to "Misery" earlier, I thought how it wouldn't be much of a stretch to imagine Cliff Richard or one of the Larry Parnes stable singing it. Same with most of these.

So it takes "Do You Want to Know a Secret" to lift the tempo again. This was one of the tracks on the Beatles on 45 records of the early 80s, so is familiar to me from that. It starts slow, then crashes into the title and the song flies.

Then it is back to the foot-tappers for "There's a Place" and "There's a Place", wit the latter being better, and its another Lennon/McCartney original.

The album ends with probably the best British rock and roll song of all time, a cover of "Twist and Shout", with Lennnon on lead vocals, his voice straining, and the rest doing the same. Without doubt, also, the best versio of "Twist and Shout".

In order to assess this, as I said, we would have to look back at what other albums were released in 1963, or those that topped the charts. Shall we look?

"Rock 'N' Roll No. 2" by Elvis Presley
"Summer Holiday" by Cliff Richard and The Shadows
"Girls! Girls! Girls!" by Elvis Presely
"A Bobby Vee Recording Session" by Bobby Vee
"Sinatra–Basie: An Historic Musical First" by Frank Sinatra and Count Basie
All Star Festival: The Unique Record in Aid of the World's Refugees by Various
"Richard Chamberlain Sings" by Richard Chamberlain

Then came The Beatles, and it stayed at number one for 30 weeks.

Up to The Beatles, pop music was seen as a way into popular entertainment, variety and a TV show, as per Cliff Richard, Lulu, Cilla Black and others who followed. The Beatles themselves never saw it as something that, at best would last a year or two, and Ring said he just wanted to make enough money to open a hairdressing salon.

Going forward, The Beatles would redefine what an album was, pushing the boundaries of popular music and technology until they realised what they created in the studio could not be played live, so they gave up playing concerts. But the music kept coming and growing.

In short, listening to this, is it possible to see that the band would come to be the biggest force in popular music? Maybe, maybe not. Looking back, and without living through the years before and the music released, its impossible to say what a difference this record and the band made. They were still playing on variety bills on tour, with other bands, a comic and sometimes other variety acts too, so obly got to play fifteen minutes or so, twice a night. But the band had hones their craft in Hamburg and playing for the BBC, and that tightness would only get better.

Tuesday 17th February 2026

So, you know the drill. It's Tuesday, and that means up early, be back sharpish, so Jools can go to her class.

At least it was another day without rain, though the wind was building, and the temperature was just above freezing. Which meant once I arrived at the sports centre, there was the rush to get into the lea of the building and so out of the wind.

Then upstairs, on the bike, start the podcast and start pedalling.

I stuck to the higher level, and pushed out the calories and RPM for forty minutes. I snap the result, possibly to use as a shot of the day. Wipe the machine down, go downstairs and put on my jumper, before walking quickly back to the car, then drive home.

I got back at seven fifteen. There was a brew waiting when I walked in, and Jools was collecting her stuff for a morning out.

Nothing for me to go into town for, so I stay here once she leaves, have a shower and am dressed with trousers on by eight.

It is another fabulously sunny, if cold day. And I would go for another short walk, this time when I reached Station Road, going down rather than up.

I see nothing new in flower, other than a single Sun Spurge among Walter's wild flower mix. So I snap that, and go back inside. Hands like blocks of ice, so I put the kettle on.

Once Jools came back, I make lunch. AKA the main meal of the day. Chicken Kyiv, grains, steamed vegetables with a cheese and mustard sauce, and sprouts cooked with guanciale.

It was magnificent.

After cleaning up, we take to the sofa where staying awake was the hardest part, as Bangers and Cash played out on the tellybox.

Jools started to watch The Handmaiden's Tale, but I have little interest in drama these days, so fiddle around online until it was time for the footy to kick off at seven on the radio.

It was light until after five, Spring could be said to be here, but it is chilly, so we turn the heating up a notch.

Monday 16th February 2026

Monday again.

And this time, with sunshine.

Or some sunshine.

Being a Monday there was no early morning phys, so I could lay in, instead my brain had me awake at before five, though I did nod off and woke again with Cleo on my legs and Jools leaving in the car for an early morning swim session.

So I easy myself from around Cleo, get dressed and go downstairs to make a coffee. Outside it was dawn, light filled the sky and it was going to be a splendid day.

If cold.

I take my coffee, once made, to the table and look at what the world had been doing whilst I slept. Little of it any good, to be honest.

Jools was back in an hour. The pump had failed in the pool, so she just had a sauna, though it was fixed when she went to leave.

I got an ocular migraine, so Jools went out and did chores by herself: to the tip to drop more books off, and to the carpet place, to the pet shop to buy a cat basket, and to get a couple of groceries we needed.

The migraine passed, it came die to a poor night's sleep and being on the computer. At least I don't work now, so can retire to the sofa and sit with my eyes closed for an hour.

I went for a walk. Not far, just to the end of the road, up Station Road to the bus stop, to check on flowers in bloom, and to catch some sunshine on my skin.

I didn't put a jacket on, so it was bracing once made it to Station Road, and once at the top I took shelter in the bus stop before returning home.

A couple of young ladies on huge horses were walking down the hill, so that became the picture of the day.

Though it was warm enough on the bench, sheltered by the hedge in the back garden. I was joined by Scully who was happy enough to sit beside me and snuggle up to my arm.

Once Jools came back, we had a brew, then let time slip though our hands until it was half one, and it was time t prepare what is now the main and last meal of the day.

Breaded fish, stir fry and noodles, so some fibre and protein.

And then, after washing up, more bangers and cash with Scully sitting between Jools and myself on the sofa, very happy with the way the afternoon panned out.

For supper we had the last two short cakes with a brew, by which time it was getting dark outside, and soon the skies cleared more and stars began to show.

There was a top of the table clash on the telly: Coventry v Middlesborough, which was good, with Cov running out 3-1 winners, a poor handball decision giving them their third from the spot.

Sunday 15th February 2026

Sunday was a real drag.

It was to rain hard for at least six hours, and rain steadily otherwise all of daylight hours, and there was no football other than games featuring Celtic and Rangers as all cup games were on a channel I don't pay for.

What were we going to do all day?

For a start, off to the gym. Obviously.

Up at six, have coffee and be there for seven, so that once the doors we swung open, we were third and forth people in the studio, and the two recumbent bikes were ours.

We did just over forty minutes, and I upped the level as I had promised, though pedalled slower, so that the calories burned were not that much more than Saturday's.

Back to the car, rushing before the real rain arrived. Back home, put the birdseed out and say, "well, we're not going out again".

And didn't.

We had the radio on all day: Radcliffe and Maconie first, then switching to Huey on his new station from ten, for four hours of classic gentle tunes.

As we were having pie and veg, I peeled the potatoes and let them soak for a couple of hours. Before boiling almost to destruction, then letting them steam dry.

So that to eat at two, they went into roast at quarter past twelve, and were basted every thirty minutes.

Half an hour before the potatoes were done, I put the veg on to steam and the pies in to cook.

And come five past two when we sat down to eat, all was done to a turn. Perfect food for a cold and rainy day outside.

Not much else to report, really. I watched the Rangers v Hearts game on telly, but without sound, so was disconnected from it.

Short cakes and a fresh brew for supper, then to bed at eight, as the rain continued to fall outside.

Saturday 14th February 2026

Saturday.

And it am the weekend, though as we say, every day is the weekend these days.

And being a weekend, there is always phys to start the day.

Jools had managed to book swimming, so I would go to the gym studio, if that's what they're called, alone.

And as we left home, turned down Station Road, it was almost light. And of course that would improve week on week now.

Not only lighter, but clear skies, skies that would remain clear all day. But it was cold. Just two degrees, and with a very keen breeze, meaning the walk from the car to the entrance was done at a quick hobble.

I went upstairs, while Jools went to the changing rooms and pool.

I set up and do my forty minutes, not out of breath at all at the end, so on Sunday it would an increase in level, up to 14.

While Jools finished her session, I went down and back to the car to drive to Tesco to do the weekly shop.

Tesco, even at eight, is fairly empty, and almost a pleasurable experience. I get all what we need, pay, load up the car and am back outside the sports centre for twenty past eight, just ready for Jools to come out and meet me at the kerb.

Back home, while the A2 was quiet, the start of half term meant the A20 into Dover was pretty slow, but no trouble for us.

Back home we unload the car, top up the feeders, put away the shopping, and make brews, so that by nine we sat down and let out a deep breath.

The big news is that we were meeting Sean and Ange for lunch, so a shower, shave and put on some smart clothes, all ready to leave at midday, to drive to the Duke of Yorks, ten down Jubilee Way to the Promenade, where we found a free parking space.

We were having high tea: that is finger sandwiches, pastries, followed by sones with jam and cream, and tea.

Once we had arrived, we were shown to the petal-strewn table (it was Valentine's Day), and were presented with a free glass of prosecco.

We ate and talked for two hours, but the parking was running out, so we agree to leave, with hugs and handshakes.

Outside it was gloriously sunny, but bitterly cold in the wind, especially those us us dressed in a cotton suit and tie.

Ahem.

Back home in time to get changed into our civvies, then on the sofa with Scully to listen to the football. Norwich beating WBA again, but this time in the cup.

I didn't move then as on with the TV as Scotland v England in he rugby, and England expected to win by ten points.

So, of course, they played very poorly, had the same player yellow carded. Twice. And there was no coming back from that.

Scotland played very well, and deserved to win, the crowd singing repeated choruses of "Flower of Scotland".

Friday 13th December 2026

And tat means a lay in, if my brain and body will let me.

They did wake me at five, but I dozed a bit and so woke up as Jools left to go to yoga at six.

So it was get up, get dressed, go downstairs and then put the bins out, before making a coffee. Scully claimed she had not been fed, but I knew she was lying.

So a full morning of podcasts and videos to catch up on, while outside the clouds cleared and we had another sunny day with no rain.

Which was nice.

Jools came home, stayed for an hour before leaving for her craft and chat group at the library, while I stayed home to do more of very little.

When Jools came home just after midday, she said she was hungry, so I cooked dried pasta, warmed up defrosted ragu and once the pasta was cooked al dente, I combined them, and so an easy lunch was served.

Eating so early would mean we would be hungry at tea time, so something would be rustled up.

Jools took my photo albums from the 80s and 90s to the tip. I have digitised them, so they're not lost, but with no one to leave them to, or anyone who knows who or what they're of, why keep them?

Scully and I watched Bangers and Cash on the tellybox all afternoon, while Jools did more crocheting of her colourful cardigan upstairs.

So, supper would be a batch of Norfolk short cakes, a recipe from my maternal grandmother, and always wonderful when they are taken out of the oven.

I had to make my own self-raising flour as we were out, the result was even lighter cakes.

We ate two each along with a fresh brew for supper, before I was triumphant in the music quiz, and now command a nine point lead half way through the month.

A fridge magnet is the prize, so it is the pride of winning at stake!

There was Ipswich losing at Hollywood FC, Wrexham, in the cup to watch through the evening.

Thursday 12th February 2026

Thursday.

The days, weeks and months now fly by.

It only seemed yesterday it was Monday, and the day before that, Christmas.

And yet here we are nearly at the end of another week.

And a day nearer Spring, of course. Though you could argue that perhaps it has already arrived here in east Kent.

After getting up at five fifteen again, getting dressed and drinking coffee, by the time we left for the gym at five past six, it was already getting light to the south east, birds were singing.

All very springlike.

The roads around here, like for most of the country, are falling apart. As soon as one pot hole is repaired, repaired again properly, another opens up, causing you to swerve or slow down.

So far our car is undamaged.

The gym is busy, people already into their workout by the time we arrive and are all dressed down, podcast lined up.

And off I go, another forty minutes done, and I will up the level at the weekend, but my fat hairy legs did ache afterwards.

We get back home safe and sound, and have a welcoming cool down brew.

Jools was taking a friend to William Harvey for an appointment, while I stayed here and had a shower, shave and looked after the cats. Not that they took much looking after.

The expected rain didn't arrive, instead the clouds parted and the sun shone, and in the light wind, it almost felt like Spring.

Certainly it was warm enough to sit on the bench with second breakfast and another brew, glorious with the sun on my face, and Scully laying beside me, purring with joy.

The birds were busy on the feeders, and a starling sat on next door's chimney singing a variety of songs.

Jools was gone nearly four hours, so once she came back I prepared lunch: sweet chilli salmon, stir fry and noodles. All pretty good, and full of fibre.

But lacking in carbs.

Which explained why at six I was toasting buns and grilling half pound burgers for supper as we were hungry.

Burgers mandate beer (or cider), so Jools ate hers while watching Small Prophets, the new series on BBC, which she binge-watched over two nights. And enjoyed it.

I rarely watch drama or anything much else than football, history or science now.

Football on the radio in the evening, but on Talk Shite, so full of ads, as part of the commentary.

Annoying.

Wednesday 11th February 2026

Wednesday.

Hump day, and as it turned out, quite a busy day.

As I could lay in bed all day if I wanted, my stupid brain had me awake at quarter to five and waiting for Jools's alarm to go off.

Which it did.

Then snoozed to half six, where I sprung out of bed, as I was to join Jools in going down town, so I could get my hair cut.

It seemed the best use of times for me to go down when she was at her class, share the car, then meet afterwards for breakfast before the next couple of tasks to do.

So it was I dropped Jools off at the Riverside Centre, then went to park behind St Marys. Walked to the High Street and when confronted by four closed barbers, I remembered my last time when I did this and having to wait until nearly nine until one opened.

So I walked along to Costa and ordered a bowl of cappuccino and a cherry Bakewell. Though the latter wasn't a patch as the one I have a week earlier on Dorridge Station.

I took my time in eating and drinking, and strung it out to nearly half eight, when the first of the barbers was due to open.

Of the barber opening, there was no sign, so I walked up and down four times, passing the four joints on each pass, until I saw the one I like turn the lights on, so I stood outside.

But he went out back to make a brew, so I stood in the drizzle, waiting.

Time passed.

He opened up, remembered me and what I liked, so he got busy making me look presentable again.

I looked at my reflection, and saw for the first time that my face is now thinner than it was, although my jowls need some work.

Anyway, half an hour later, it is done, so I pay him and leave.

I walk to the café, and order a pot of tea while I waited for Jools to come and join me.

I had a simple cheese toastie, whilst Jools had some kind of North African breakfast with tomatoes, onions, chorizo and eggs.

We eat.

Back then to the car, and a drive up to Whitfield so we can go to the carpet warehouse and the paint shop. For the bathroom decoration.

I can't tell you how many different vinyl carpets there were. Hundreds maybe. But knowing the walls would be similar to what we have now meant we chose some pink speckled thing and arranged for their guy to come and measure the room on Thursday.

Next door was the paint shop. We had been told by Jon that a red colour her liked, and the manufacturer.

They don't make it any more.

So we chose something which looked close, took note of the stupid name so that the guys could order it when the time came.

We could then go home for a couple of hours, until it was time to go out for the U3A churchcrawling group.

For reasons, Jools was driving, and we had two ladies to pick up from Walmer and Deal, so we headed into Deal, nearly out the other side for the first one.

Then back to Walmer, past the Berry to where the second lady lived, so we had a carful.

The to Folkestone for the visit, to St Easnswythe, where I had arranged the visit, and a guide from the church historian.

Jools dropped us near the church, so we waited until the others arrived, I went to the parish office, and we were allowed in, and we were given the grand tour.

But by heck the church was cold.

They only have the heating on on Sunday when there's a service, so a stone box in winter is indeed cold. Some in the group struggled to keep warm, but the talk and tour was interesting as the history of the church was revealed.

When we left at twenty past three, the clouds had cleared and the sun was out so the house on The Bayle, all pastel shaded painted glowed in the late afternoon light.

We waited for Jools to return, then climbed in so Jools could drive us back along the A20 to Dover, then to Deal and Walmer before turning for home.

But I was thirsty. I said to Jools if there was a parking space outside the Freed Man in Upper Walmer, I'd pull in, and we could go for a pint.

As it happened, there was a space, so I pulled in, and in 30 seconds we were walking over the crossing to the bar.

There was a good stout on draught, so I had that, whilst Jools had a cider.

That was better.

But only the one as I was driving.

But when we went outside, the chippy two doors up was frying, and the fish and chips felt delicious.

Fancy chips? I said.

Of course.

So we had cod and chips twice. £26, something for which in 1975 cost £6.

We rushed home and as I made drinks and plated up, Jools tested and red the cats, so in five minutes after getting in, we sat down to eat, platefuls of fried crispy goodness.

And as always, there was too many chips, so half went in he bin as reheating them isn't the same.

And that left an hour before the football started, with another half round of games in the Prem and a Championship game on the telly.

Lovely.

Tuesday 10th February 2026

It is now noticeable that Spring is on the way, even if the weather is endlessly grey and raining.

Some parts of the south west and south Wales have had 41 days with rain, and there is flooding in many low-lying areas.

Even here in Kent, the rain has been relentless, turning paths and tracks to mud, and water gathering in dips on roads to cause more issues for driver.

And then there is the curse or potholes that are all over the country, the main road from the village into Dover is having to be repaired every week as new holes open up.

But in the garden there are green shoots, and the dwarf Iris have begun to flower. First just one, then two days later, half a dozen.

Tuesday begins with an early morning alarm at five fifteen, and so get up, get dressed and go to the gym for six, then on the bike for another session, while listening to A Word in Your Ear.

Time goes quickly.

A thick fog had fallen, turning Dover into Victorian London, dulling sounds and lights. I drive back carefully.

And then back home so Jools can go to her fitness class and then another stich and chat group, leaving me at home to have breakfast, and have a shower.

Rain falls gently outside. The kind of drizzle that soaks into clothing. Weather that looks better from inside, on the sofa holding a fresh, hot brew.

The morning passes slowly. I peel and cube potatoes for hash, then boil them, so all ready for when Jools comes back.

Instead of going out for chores, I cook and we eat at two, while outside the rain falls.

Darkness comes at nearly half five, even on a dull, dreary afternoon. Spring is coming, it might just be wet.

For the evening there was football on the telly, Norwich away at Oxford, and footy on the radio.

Heaven.

Norwich had an injury crisis, with many new signings or young players stepping into the team, no matter, City cruise to a 3-0 away win, and so rise to 16th in the table.

Not safe yet, but better than being seven points adrift as we were at the end of October.

And our new centre forward, Mo Toure, scored a hat trick on his full debut. Josh who?

Monday 9th February 2026

Its Monday again, and so the working weeks starts again.

For some.

I read old blog posts over breakfast, and I can read the sadness in my words when I wrote that the weekend was over and Monday morning rolled round again.

I think I did six consecutive days with at least 8,000 steps, so I thought I would have a day of rest, even if over the weekend most of the "steps" were recorded on the bike in the gym.

As I could lay in bed until whenever I liked, my stupid brain had me awake at quarter past five, with no chance of dropping off again.

So I get up.

Jools goes swimming, and so I am alone, so stand in the kitchen with a coffee, watching the sun come up over the other side of the valley.

Once Jools comes back, we have breakfast, but she now takes a friend out for coffee on Monday morning, so I am alone again, and after some early drizzle, the sun actually comes out for a few minutes before lunch.

Lunch was bacon butties. Or butty. As we eat less now.

And then 90 minutes watching Bangers and Cash with Scully on the sofa.

In a surprise move, I went out to do some gardening. Pruning, or sawing last year's growth off the buddleia, putting the branches in the brown bin ready to be collected on Friday.

I even put the saw and other stuff back in the shed.

Supper was sausage rolls, made with the last of the Christmas stock.

Life is too short to make your own puff pastry, so the shop-bought one was fine.

And so another exciting day drew to an end, with just Sheffield Utd v Middlesborough to entertain through the evening.

Sunday 8th February 2026

About a decade ago, we put some books in the attic to see if we would miss them, and if we did we would take them to the charity shop.

Then the trapdoor to the attic broke, and I bodged it with a screw or two, and although the door held, we couldn't open it.

Truth is, all it needed was a catch to hold it closed, turned out to be a five minute job, fixed after the plumber had to go in the loft to reset the water.

And so then, the books.

On top of the books, are several photo albums, all of which I have digitised, so what to do with them? I have no family left, no one to leave family pictures to, let alone pictures from work's parties in the late 80s.

The albums are still pretty good, but who uses them now? I guess its the tip for them.

Jools got them down when I was away. I didn't want to throw them, but who needs them, and the space they take up?

So, the tip it is.

That was Sunday morning sorted. Or at least once we were back from the gym and cooled down. And me had a shower.

And we had breakfast.

It was another bright day, but felt cold, especially with me still in my shorts.

Before the football started, I cooked lamb and mint pies, roast potatoes, steamed veggies and the last of the gravy left over from the roast beef.

It was glorious.

I also finished up two opened bottles of red. One had less than a glass, the other over two. I slept partly through the Brighton v Palace game.

Then the big game, Liverpool v Citeh. A bit of a chess game for seventy minutes, then it went crazy and was over with Citeh winners, 2-1.

And that was the weekend over with.

A lack of confidence

I was away last week, so missed some of the news.

It was dominated by Peter Mandleson and the fact as Ambassador to the USA, he passed trade sensitive information to convicted sex trafficer, Jeffery Epsten, after Epstein had been convicted.

Keir Starmer had appointed him as Ambassador, replacing the previous incumbant, who had done nothing wrong, but despite warnings about Mandleson's previous untrustworthy behaviour.

On Wednesday, at PMQs, Starmer was skewered by Baddenoch on the issue, and then the Cabinet Office said it would release documents relating to Mandleson, after redacting what it deemed to be in the National Interest.

Parliament did not belive the Cabinet Office, and instead decided it would form a committe, and that would decide what was in the National Interest, not take the Cabinet Office's word.

This is remarkable. Parliament, or the House of Commons, deciding, with a majority of Labour MPs, that it cannot trust the Cabinet Offfice's statements on the matter of National Security!

This has been largly missed by the media, but is a remarkable turn of events.

Instead, it has been a feeding frenzy about Mandleson, Andrew and the Epstein files, and yet no one seems to be concerned with the victims of trafficing or those who were under age when they were raped. Raped by the great, rich and "good".

The Government is now not in control of the release of documents, a process that would have previously been under the control of Ministers and lawyers.

Saturday 7th February 2026

It is the weekend again. Apparently.

After four days away, it was good to be home, sleep in my own bed, even if I woke up covered in cats.

Or cat.

But it was a Saturday, and that meant a day of phys.

I could have bailed as i did 40,000 steps over four days away, but if I were to skip a session, then that could be a slippery slope.

Jools had booked swimming, so I could go to the gym, and plod on at my own pace. Not that we race each other.

So, after coffee, we were on our way to Whitfield, I made my way upstairs, while Jools went to the changing rooms downstairs.

I had listened to all current podcasts when away, so I listened to an old Parallel Universe as I puffed away.

Once done, with Jools planning on going to the sauna and having a shower, I went to the car and drove to Tesco to get some fruit and veg.

And filled the tank up.

A text to Jools to say I was done, so when I got back to the sports centre, she was coming down the steps. She hopped in and we drove home, all tasks done for the day.

Once back we put the shopping away, make a brew and feed Scully again.

Before breakfast, I went for a walk along to the street to snap flowers in bloom before the rain arrived.

Just as well I did as rain did arrive before lunch, by which time I was shave, showered and dressed again.

On the walk, the Alexanders had began to flower, so I snapped them. That was about if for the new flowering plants, but many more to come soon.

Lunch was stir fry and chicken, so to have fibre into us, and that was it as the afternoon turned towards football.

Norwich were on the telly, playing Blackburn. A piss poor game, but Norwich scored twice late on to take the points and move four places up the table.

Then onto the sofa with Scully to listen to the main batch of games, before it was rugger bugger time, with England playing Wales.

Could Wales find their old form?

No.

England dominated, and were 29-0 up at half time.

So it goes. So it goes.

A quiet beer and some peanuts in the evening, and that another day at the coalface done.

Phew.

Friday 6th February 2026

Time to go home.

And somehow I managed to get some 11 hours sleep or snoozing.

I finally got up at quarter past eight, and made a brew.

The last act is to pack, look round the room several times to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

That done, I close the door and drag my case along the endless corridors, up and down the stairs as the lift still hadn't been fixed.

I couldn't face their piss-poor breakfast, so I take the lift down to the street, saving lugging the case down five flights of stairs, and out into the grey, wet morning.

I wasn't really hungry, so pondered breakfast, but decided I would get something at the buffet on the station. I would also not get a taxi, so walk the fifteen minutes through town, past the Alehouse and up the slight hill to the station.

There was no buffet.

And I had fifty five minutes to kill.

So I listened to a podcast and tried to ignore the damp chill.

Trains to Worcester came and left, and then the little two car train came for me. About half a dozen others got on, and on time at half ten, it rattled out and up the branch line, but taking the chord to join the main line southbound, passing through Warwick until we reached Leamington Spa.

I had twenty minutes, so managed to get a panini and a coffee, finishing those off before the train arrived. Another rake of mk 3s being pushed by a roaring 68.

I got a seat facing back, and again the views out of the window were grey drizzle, but the valley around Banbury were now flooded much more, and the meandering river in the middle, lost from view.

All was going well until we came to a halt at High Wycombe, where we were not supposed to stop.

A freight train had broken down somewhere in the London area, blocking the line.

We were to be kicked off at Gerrards Cross, sadly, one stop short of the end of the Underground at West Ruislip.

Instead of being just left there, another train was going to collect us from the other, down, platform.

So the 40 or so of us, all climb over the footbridge to fill the platform.

Then came the announcement that the train was now back over on the up platform.

So we all climb back over the footbridge, and by the time we reached the platform, the train was there. It would run fast into Marylebone as the freight train had been moved.

So it was we arrived at Marylebone some 40 minutes late, which might be a good thing for me.

I went down to the Bakerloo, went one station to Baker Street, then changed onto a Circle Line train to St Pancras.

Up to the station and rushing past the Eurostar queues, up to the Southeastern platform, where a direct train to Dover was leaving in ten minutes.

I showed my ticket and was allowed onto the platform, walked to the front of the station and got a seat.

Phew.

Last leg of the trip, made exciting by a drugged up scrote in the seat behind me, doing deals on his phone and swearing. Then it turned out he had no ticket so was subject to a £100 fine on top of his ticket. He whined to his mate on the phone how the guy was screaming at him, which wasn't the truth.

He got off at one of the Folkestone stations, and peace returned to the carriage.

Jools was waiting, so after loading the case, she drove me home, and once inside we had a huge brew.

Dinner was battered sausage and chips from the chippy, that Jools went to get. And we were all done by six ready for the quiz.

I came second, which was nice.

The case was emptied, dirty washing in the basket and camera battery set to charge.

And it was the weekend.

And football to watch, with Leeds thrashing Forest 3-0.

Happy days.

Thursday 5th February 2026

It was Thursday. I laid in until nearly eight, snoozing and dozing.

I leap up, have a shower and get dressed. Despite the dreadful weather forecast, I would go out.

And after Col and Aidan mentioned their trips on buses, I thought I would take the X18 to Warwick.

One left at 09:52, giving me just enough time to walk to Wood Street, find a place to eat and be ready.

It was indeed raining, but it was just five minutes to Wood Street, and opposite the bus stop was an independent bakery. I go in, order a tea and a cheese and salsa or something toastie.

Both were good, but I realised I had ten minutes before the bus, even though there was another in half an hour.

I go out, cross the road and soon a bus with Warwick on the destination board pulled in. I didn't notice the route number, but instead of the express service, I was on the slow, calling at all villages services.

But it was fine, I was in no hurry.

So the bus roared and bounced its way down narrow roads in housing estates, short bursts of full speed, before pulling off into a village.

The rain still came down, running down the windows, but they were all condensated, so you couldn't see out of them anyway.

All trips on buses in the county cost just £3, so was a bargain.

After an hour we arrived in Warwick, pulling in at the small bus station. We all thanked the driver as we got off, as its what Brits do.

A map and signpost showed the way to the town centre, so I walked up the street until it opened up into a square with the town hall in the centre.

If only I knew where the church was. I looked round and saw the four pinnacles of the tower over the roofs of the shops.

I walked towards it.

St Mary was open. Col had checked that it would be. It was due to open at 11, it was ten to, but the door swung open, and the warmth inside hit me like a woolly blanket.

I received a warm welcome too. A guide showed me to the Beauchamp Chapel, down some steps where Elizabeth I's beau is buried with his higher born wife, so in eternity, she lays slightly above him to remind Dudley he didn't marry Good Queen Bess.

The church is huge, and full of delights. I was inside for nearly 90 minutes, and still missed things to photograph and admire. There was some ancient glass, and some good Victorian glass too.

At quarter past twelve I was done, or churched out. I walked outside, and into the Rose and Crown opposite, where I ordered a pint of Timothy Taylor Boltmaker, which was so good I had a second, and an Indonesian curry with sambal.

Delicious.

One last thing to see and snap, was the Westgate with Lord Leycester Hospital beside it. The latter sadly closed until March, so I made do with shots of the gate, with chapel above and the timber framed buildings of the hospital, timbers and walls all at different angles.

Rain began to fall. And it looked set in, so I checked with the bus timetable, and it seemed a bus was due in ten minutes, so I walked back to the bus station, to shelter A.

And waited.

And waited some more.

It was twenty five minutes late, so not sure if it was the next one early, or the previous nearly half an hour late.

Whatever, it was the express service, and it made good time. I sat on the upper deck, because its the law on a double decker, so the trees being shaken in the strong wind, scratched down the roof.

It was still raining in Stratford, so I went into Tesco for supplies of pop, crisps and biscuits before walking back to the hotel for a feast of dirty food.

I read more of Cameron Crowe's book as rain hammered down outside. It grew dark and so I climbed into bed to read, so to keep warm.

Wednesday 4th February 2026

A certain William Shakespeare was born in Stratford, and so it is understandable that the town and businesses make a bit of a deal about it. The Royal Shakespeare Company also have two theatres in the town, and it is why I came.

King Lear was partly set in Dover, and he wrote about Early Purple Orchids, so its a bit of a slam dunk for me to go to Stratford.

I woke up early, outside it was raining, but the forecast had perked up and it was supposed to clear and maybe even have sunshine.

I decided to pay for breakfast in the Premier Inn, so went down, or up, to the restaurant to fill me up.

Maybe it was because it was early, but the selection was poor. I had cereal, then sausages and hash browns, but the rest already looked like they had been in their dishes for hours and appeared tired.

But there was coffee.

Which was good.

Once I had eaten and put on my walking shoes, I left the hotel at eight to explore.

I already knew the town layout from the walk to the pub the night before, so after cutting across the main road, I headed up Wood Street, past Marks and Spencer with its porticoed entrance to the roundabout, where historic streets lead off in all directions.

I walked down each, taking shots of the timber-framed budlings, old inns and shops, past the school Shakespeare himself went to and the adjoining Guild Chapel, I walked on seeing more interesting buildings along the street.

I finally made my way to what is called Shakespeare's Birthplace, another timber-framed building, but set pretty much in isolation, and surrounded by tat shops, including as seems to be mandatory now, a place selling Harry Potter related tat.

I was to meet one, perhaps two friends. I had an hour to kill, so thought a coffee would be good, so I walked to the roundabout, to a small independent place. As I approached it, there was a voice behind me:

"Ian?"

I did have a camera swinging from my neck, so Colin had made the correct assumption it was me. We had never met before, but are both members of the GWUK group.

We shook hands and went in to have a coffee and talk.

We moved off after half an hour, walking down towards the river as another GWUK friend, Aidan, was soon to arrive, but had missed a tight bus connection in Coventry, so would be half an hour late.

It was dull and grey still, but no breeze, so reflections of the RSC Theatre were like in a mirror. Swans patrolled the water, flecked with scum from, well, best not to ask.

There was only a few folks about, but the sky was looking brighter.

Aidan called to say he had arrived, so we told him we were by one of the many Shakespeare statues or memorials, this one by the river.

We could see him walking over the bridge: he waved, we waved, we all waved.

It was suggested that me might like to go to the RSC to the bar on the third floor, which had five views over the river, canal and town.

We took a table and had a drink while we talked, and explored, ad we took turns to sit in the "Insult Chair": Col was a polecat I think, I was something similar, but Aidan got several sentences.

Next was the desire on my part to go to the parish church and see Shakespeare's grave. It's always open I was assured.

We walked along a narrow street, past the dual-named pub The Black Swan / The Mucky Duck, and along to the church, where the door was found to be very locked indeed, and not to open until Saturday.

Oh well.

We ended up outside the ancient pub, The Garrick: was it a real ale pub? I checked my list and it was, said to have four different real ales.

We went in.

We took a table in the bar, while Aidan and myself had a pint of Hung, Drawn and Portered, which went down a right treat, so we sent at least two, if not three more pints after it.

Outside the day grew old and dusk fell. But buses soon stop, so Col and Aidan said they didn't want to catch the last bus in case they missed a connection, and be stuck in Coventry or somewhere worse. So, they bid me farewell, and I stayed and ordered a fine plate of steak and ale pies with veggies and chips.

I walked back to the hotel in the dry for a change. I had been invited to a pub quiz at the Alehouse at half seven. But the truth is once I was back in the hotel room, I wasn't going to go out again, as I had already topped 14,000 steps and was pooped.