The moment of truth

This afternoon, the PM made a statement to Parliament stating that, in effect, the UK and EU would be together in a CU and SM, though she did not quite use those words or course.

Those who read these pointless posts will not be surprised at this turn of events, only that it took so long for reality to defeat Brexit. Only, it hasn't, not yet.

May has to get this through Parliament, and for the EU Parliament and all of the EU 27 to ratify it. If she gets it through Parliament, then a future Government reneging on this deal would mean splitting NO off from the rest of Britain in just about every meaningful way.

Anyone who is surprised by this clearly hasn't been paying attention.

But this is not over, the ERG has to decide what to do, will they try to topple the PM and force one of their own, DD, to be PM? Or an election which might gift Number 10 to Uncle Jeremy, though there is every indication he would press ahead with Brexit.

A second referendum is a non-starter for reasons I have said a few times, but also the fact that Parliament voted on triggering the A50 after the people's case which helped crowd-fund gave them a meaningful vote, which MPs chose to fritter away. And then there was a snap election which the two main parties, both of which pushed pro-Brexit policies won the vast majority of the votes, even if the Tories slump meant that in normal times the PM would have softened her policies, not continue towards the cliff edge at top speed.

The main problem for May is that the backstop would be so politically disastrous that anything, even BINO is better than triggering it. And it would be triggered as she and her Cabinet agreed to this last December.

Views differ on whether the TA can be extended indefinitely. Because if all else fails and no other solution can be found, the backstop comes into force and NI stays in the SM for goods, at least, and the UK doesn't.

So, we will see how the shitstorm plays out this week. I would be surprised if May survives as PM until Friday, but then I have been expecting a coup since March and it didn't come. So, time to see if the ERG and Brexiteers have the bollocks to see this out, bugger the consequences for the country.

Sunday 21st October 2018

We both woke up some time after eight, meaning nearly 12 hours sleep. And I suffered with a wooly head the rest of the day, but we did both feel better.

It was like we had never been away in that there was football to watch, bacon butties to cook. And as I cleared up after those, Jools went to collect the cats. And I have to report that Mulder bowels did nearly last until she got home. Nearly, but not quite. So, Mulder emerged from his box half drenched in wee, and a pile of poo left behind. He didn't seem to mind, but Jools and I chased after him trying to towel him down to get the worse of the wee off him.

For the rest of the day we both had feline shadows following us about; Mulder followed Jools and Scully followed me, with Scully sitting in the stairs mewing for me to go to bed, at midday. Nice thought, lady, but not now.

I posted bogs, edited shots, listened to the radio and generally frittered the day away.

I did call Mum, I mean nearly four weeks since we last spoke and a holiday in the US to chat about, and yet there was nothing there, no spark of interest. He only news was that she had had an eye test and needed new glasses. She asked no questions about New York or Boston, and the only bit of interest was when she said that Autumnwatch was from New Hampshire this year, and that we had driven through there on Friday.

I made carbonara for lunch, we worked in the garden whilst the sun shone, and the day faded.

Heck, it was even warm into evening, we were jaded, but was still good to be home with each other and the cats. In addition none of our plants had wilted whilst we were away, only blot on the horizon was that work was looming in the morning. So, Jools ironed the washing, put stuff away, and I packed my case ready for travel on Tuesday. Planning ahead for a change.

We have steak and ale pie for dinner, quite lat for us at half seven, eaten whilst listening to Desert Island Discs. As we are now that age.

And that is it, other than we were not that tired, and only realised how late it was quarter past ten, meaning the holiday was now very nearly over.

Oh well.

A quick Brexit round up

If you want to have the summary them, nothing has really changed other than another two and a half weeks has been pissed up the wall by May and Raab, and we are no further forward.

I stayed off Twitter for the holiday, so had to watch Brexit through the BBC, but knowing what was being said was rubbish or lies and the BBC failed time and time to point these out shows just how e got into this mess.

DD now wants to be Prime Minister, and there seems to be the possibility of a coup by some on the COnservative Party this week. That no matter who is PM will change the position, maybe only by making it worse if Boris, DD or JRM are leaders, then you see very quickly this for the side show that it is.

As Europe carries on ripping the Conservative Party apart as it has done since the late 80s, and will do no matter what happens in the next few months, the whole exercise is pretty pointless. DD wanting to be PM in order to deliver a proper Brexit, whatever that is, when for over two years he was literally the Minister for Brexit leading the negotiations with the EU. It would be funny were not so tragic.

MPs and Ministers carry on claiming that black is white; that there is no border between Switzerland and the EU, despite that there is, that there are hundreds, thousands of pictures on the web of the miles of queuing lorries at the border. There is no boarder for private cars, as the Swizz are in the single travel area. I spoke to a German lady, now living in Switzerland, about Brexit and the Swiss border. Her job is to arrange freight across that very border. Why are UK politicians not called out for lying about this, she asked? Why indeed.

As ever, there are simple ways to avoid a hard border in Ireland. Yes, that again. But these simple solutions involve single markets, customs unions and tax equivalence. Or the ability to know how much tax to levy on good coming in. Without these, there has to be a hard border. No amount of technological solutions will ever replace simple WTO rules and the status of third countries,, which the UK will come in relation to the EU when it leaves.

These are simple concepts, which even I have grasped, so knowing these things I can demolish and Brexiteer argument on cross border trade, shame then BBC journalists seem unable to.

If anything, remain is in worse shape than leave, in that there is a growing demand for a 2nd referendum, 3rd if you count the 1975 one, with a march in London yesterday which attracted over half a million participants. A second referendum cannot be an affront to democracy, nor should should the people's voice be silenced by a previous people's voice, and I believe the only way that Brexit could be stopped is a second referendum. But a win for remain is not guaranteed, the Government of the day would set the question and the rules as set out in the primary and secondary legislation. But we know from the 2016 one that the clear labeling of it as an "advisory" referendum, and Parliament not needing to act on the result, and look where that got us.

Worse than that, none of the Labour front bench took part in the march yesterday, meaning that even if there were a change in Government there wouldn't be a change in Brexit policy.

Brexit will be decided by the Irish border, as it was always going to be, and any movement will be by the UK. We are now at the point where fudging an issue is no longer possible, only clarity will win through, and legal clarity at that, fudging the meaning of the December agreement meant that all was well until what had been agreed, or what the EU said had been agreed, was written in legal clarity, that it all fell down. Which is why I can't see there being any fudging of the border now to be kicked into the long grass of the trade negotiations, no matter how long the TA is.

Saturday 20th October 2018

We now switch to BST as the blogs and yours truly return to Blighty.

Jools suggested we could have paid to go in the BA lounge, but for the two hour wait we had, there seemed little point. Instead we walked down to gate 12 to wait it to open, find a seat and read. Or in my case, try the free wi-fi.

I had said there is no point its almost impossible to register and then slow as heck. JUst to prove me wrong, Logan wi-fi needs no registering, just log on and use. And as quick enough to upload shots.

I take it all back.

The flight started to board at nine, and we were all on board by twenty past, the overhead bins bulging from overfilled cabin bags, and my camera bag.

I had somehow booked us in coach class again, meaning we were jammed in with another passenger on our row. But at the least the in-flight entertainment would distract me, right? Wrong. The video for our rwo was not working, even switching the system off and on again did not work! THis did mean nothing to take my mind off the flight, but turns out after two (small) bottles of wine and a chicken curry, I would actually sleep. Once I told the guy behind me that his knee was resting in the small of my back.

I awake as the plane crosses the Irish coast, with an hour left on the flight. For some reason the flight was less than six hours, meaning the lack of video wasn't that bad a deal.

I have a morning cuppa, then look out of the window as the plane drops height to admire the mist in the Welsh valleys, lit by the rays of the rising sun.

We are served a cuppa, the first tea I have supped since leaving home 15 days before, and it tasted darn good.

We landed and taxied to terminal 5, soon we were all getting off, the tired and sleepy, stumbling off like an army of the undead. We had to catch a shuttle to the main part of the terminal, meaning squeezing on the tiny train for the 30 second ride, but from the station it was a few steps to the passport gates, and we were back home.

Just the bags to wait for now. I am spoiled in that when I go to Denmark, there are only the 30 of us at most on the flight, not all have bags, and most times the bags are waiting for us in the terminal, not the other way round. But at LHR there is a wait, a long wait. But they do come, and we set off to find Ricky who has a new plan to avoid paying car park charges. We meet up outside departures, throw the bags in the back of his cab, and we are away.

Last leg.

Ricky is always in a good mood, but does share some of the issues he has with the long hours, mostly driving to Heathrow, Gatwick or one of the other airports. He has little savings, but does own his own place, with a mortgage, but says he has no pension. I'll just have the Government one he says. Only the Government will phase them out by the time your retire!

Eek.

He didn't know.

So, we try to guide him, and fill in the 90 minute trip with financial advice.

But we arrive home, to find it warm in the lunchtime sunshine, heck, nearly hot. I open the house, write a shopping list, so I go shopping while Jools unpacks and loads up the washing machine.

Teso is mad as ever, but we need just about everything, so I get stuff for the weekend, but the crowds in the shop, just standing about talking and blocking aisles is just dumbfounding. Just glad to leave and go back home, and load the fridge with food, slice the tomatoes and cheese for insalata. As we feel we have pretty much lived of fried food and BBQ this last week at least.

We were both shattered, and once we had eaten, I lay on the sofa to listen to the footy, as being home I get to switch back to footy from baseball. As you do.

And Norwich win, coming from behind to beat Forest 2-1. Which was nice.

Needless to say, come eight in the evening, a combination of jelag and wine meant I could not keep my eyes open, so we called it a day.

Phew.

Friday 19th October 2018

Woke up to find the Sox ran out winner and AL champions after folding on to win 4-1 last night.

Yay.

It was a warmer morning at least, just, and the sky was clearing of clouds, all we had to do was find some foliage. Jools’ idea was to check online, and turns out there was good reports from the far east of the state beside Lake Champlain. And as that was the way I planned to get us to leave the state; perfect.

We had a simple breakfast, but with coffee. I even tried my hand at the waffle machine, and so got half done waffles, but still pretty good.

We throw our stuff n the back of the car, deciding to pack “later”, and with the bill paid, we could leave. Jools set the sat nav, and it took us down rolling roads, down deep shadowed valleys and up over sunbathed passes until we passed under I-87, and the land flattened out.

And here was the foliage we had dreamed of. Not majestic views of foliage filled valleys reflected in lakes, but stunning in their own way. We took the lakeside road that wound its way along the shores of Lake Champlain, rolling with the landscape, with views and vistas opening up and closing of in metres.

We stop a couple of times near the shore to snap the scene, but not quite what we had in mind, but as we had the places to ourselves, still good.

We made our way to the first bridge over the lake, near to Port Henry. I had been this way before and remembered a diner made from an old railroad coach, but we could not find it.

Instead, once over the bridge and in Vermont, there was a place to eat, so we stop and find the staff stressed and in a very sarcastic mood, but being Brits we lapped it up. We ate well, good honest foo. A Ruben for me and fried clam sandwich for Jools.

We drove into Vermont, stunned by its beauty; rolling countryside, red farm buildings, and tree-topped hills. We followed the sat nav as it directed us south through small towns, some with colleges until we hit the interstate, and from then it was a race to see if we would reach the airport in time, as the traffic around Boston would be dreadful.

Down through Vermont, into New Hampshire and finally into Massachusetts nearing Boston all the time. Traffic got heavier and heavier, but we made good time. Road signs suggested a 45 minute delay, but we made it to the airport at six after battling through traffic to the new tunnels created during the “Big Dig”.

We dropped the hire car off, packed the cases and walked to the shuttle bus to take us to the terminal.

A short wait at check in, another at security, but we were through and in the bar by half six, with three hours to kll. So, here I am writing on last time of our travels in the US, tomorrow we will be back home, and on Sunday we get the cats back

So, the world turns….

Thursday 19th October 2018 (updated)

We woke up to find there had been a light snow shower, and all cars and most vegetation was covered in a sugar coating of snow. Need I have to say it was cold?

After yesterday when it seemed we had ran out things to do in the Catskills, as our legs screamed no more trails, Jools asked if we should head north to the Adirondacks. I hadn't given it any thoughts, but seemed like a good idea to me, so I found a hotel in Lake Placid, routes were planned, and we looked at fall folliage websites, and it claimed around the Lake it was still at peak.

Anyway, the time had come for us to move on, we had exhausted things in the Catskills, and now further north the Adirondacks were calling.

We had breakfast, then packed the cases and an overnight bag for our last night, I paid the bill and it was time to go. The car was loaded, the windscreen swept clear of snow, the sat nav programmed, and off we went.

We drive north to Grand Gorge, then instead of turning east to Prattsville, we continue north. The road twisted lazily down a wide valley, lined with tree covered hills, nearly mountains, which slowly flattened out. Out of the Catskills heading due north to the interstate, through lush farmland laying in valleys skirted by heavily wooded hills, people were going to work or school, and we had a couple of hundred miles to put under our belts. It might have been a cold day, but the sun shone bright, and we made good time on the interstate. And the snow on the bonnet and back window slowly melted.

We go up to Saratoga, passing mile after mile of strip malls and then through the contre of the city, all universities and libraries and swanky looking shops. We stop for coffee. I have a large cup of vanilla chai, which I am not sure bears any resemblance to tea at all, and is now sweeter than I take coffee now, but nice to have once in a while, or once in a decade or so. And again, people in Dunkin Donuts are so friendly, or could it be that it is our voice that is so darned charming?

In truth I could do this every day of my life, travel somewhere new with the intent of getting shots. We take the wrong road out of the city, so have to travel for miles beside the interstate before turning onto it.

We joined I-87 and headed north to Canada. Or that is where the road ended up, we would turn off before then, if we remembered, traffic was amazingly light, and the empty road and twisty nature of it set my eyes drooping, so bad that I had to ask Jools to take over. We stopped at was supposed to be an information centre, wanting just a map of the Adirondacks, but found none, and little other than ads for hotels and summer activities.

We turn off the interstate, and before us were the mountains!

She drove us into the mountains, along a two lane blacktop, alongside tumbling young rivers which flowed down deep narrow valleys. But good shots were hard to come by, and soon enough we arrived in Lake Placid, where we were to spend the night.

Lake Placid is currently between seasons, the summer has ended and the skiing has yet to begin, so places are empty or closed.

We cruised through the town and out the other side, it is a lot more commercial than I remember for sure.

I saw there was a railroad, and about 5 miles out of town there was a level crossing, so I went hoping to see some train action, but only found that the rails were rusty and looking like no trains had run for years. Jools said she was hungry, so we turn round and go back to Lake Placid and see a place called the Redneck Grill.

As you can imagine, it was bbq; I had a sample platter and Jools had a burger. And I can tell you it was rather good. On TV was sports news, on three different channels, but the news all appeared to be the same, with the same clips used on all three.

We found a place to park in the centre of town, do some window shopping, but find nothing to tickle our fancy to be honest. So, we go not a bar for a swifter, think about what to do. We could check into the hotel, and with the temperature already at zero, that’s what we decided to do.

Out room was at the Best Western, nothing fancy but nothing wrong either. But outside it was parky to say the least, and apart form a quick walk before sunset to the lake, we saw no monsters in it, round to a shop that looked interesting, but wasn’t, it was back to the room to listen to the radio.

We go back out at eight, just to the next building down, a pub called the Pickled Pig, and although we were not too hungry, the fact they season, spice and smoke their own meat I could not resist. Heck, they even made their own ketchup, I had ribs, again. And it was better than good, washed down with a pint or two of vanilla porter, which was almost as good as the ribs.

And finally, to watch some baseball action, Red Sox up 4-0 in the 5th innings and by 3-1 games.

Wednesday 17th October 2018 (updated)

We woke up to another glorious morning, but very chilly indeed. A sign that the seasons are changing.

We lay in bed while deciding what to do, and with nothing agreed or suggested even, Jools goes to investigate in the lobby of the hotel. Apparently the Baseball Hall of Fame and museum was about an hour away, and there was a brewery too in the town.

One of them win/win situations.

So, after breakfast we get in the car and program the sat nav to take us to Cooperstown.

The sat nav clearly is getting bored, so takes us via side roads and mountain tracks the 60 miles until we enter the quiet town. We start on wide main roads that sweep through picturesque villages strung out along the highway, fields with attractive red barns set in the grass. All nicey nicey.

The onto smaller and smaller side roads, under an interstate and across railroad tracks, that had no trains running, and none in sight no matter how slowly I drove over the crossing.

Over one final hill, and down a steep tree-lined road into Cooperstown, which seemed too small to have something so grand as the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, some mistake? But no, on the wide main street, there was the museum.

And thanks to a mistake Cooperstown is now baseball central, as not only is the hall of Fame Museum there, but there are two or three bat shops, many mechanising shops and other related places.

I like baseball, and know little of its history, so it was an eye opener for me, but three floors was perhaps a little too much. I watched the game first whilst on det in the US in 1996 and 1999, and the first aim was to see an actual home run. Fast forward to 2003, and I was on holiday in New England, walk into a restaurant in Rockport to find all the staff running out to look at the TV as the Red Sox and Yankee’s bullpens were fighting with each other in their league playoff game.

I was in Boston that trip too, as the Red Sox fought to level the series to three games each, and in order to watch the seventh game, I had to get a taxi to Gloucester to a bar as Rockport was a dry town back then. The Red Sox lost that game, but would prevail the next year.

Thing is I thought that football (soccer) had the monopoly in being passionate about sport, but to be in Boston during playoffs against the Yankees it was easy to get caught up in the excitement.

I also learned then about the infamous “curse of the bambino”, said upon his trade from the Red Sox to the Yankees, Babe Ruth said the Sox would never win another World Series, and indeed they didn’t. I learned the Sox had come close a few times to winning, sometimes managing to lose the World Series from apparently impossible positions. They did triumph in 2004, coming back from 3-0 down in the ALCS series to win 4-3, then win the World series 4-0, thus becoming the first team to win eight post season games in a row.

That’s the way to beat the curse!

Ruth is an interesting character and story, and a story lost in legend. But he did most of what was claimed, and I learned today he wasn’t just a slugger, but a great pitcher too. Just not a nice guy.

The museum is great, I mean really well done, and a shrine to America’s Pastime, with a window on a lost world of wooden stadium, spitballers, sluggers and racially segregated sport.

I looked at the Babe Ruth display and left. On the ground floor is the Hall of Fame, where the greats of the game have a plaque and a brass representation of their face. It was like a church, and people went to worship. I appreciated it, but most of the names meant nothing to me, so I left.

We go to a corner café to have lunch, a bowl of chili for me, which might have been the best chili I have ever tasted.

I snap the Main Street, and with the rain starting to fall, we decide to head home. And the sat nav took us down even more obscure roads and tracks, taking us over the tops of wooded hills and mountains rather than round them. We were going to go to the “world’s largest kaleidoscope” but really this was an excuse for something to do, and something we probably could do with not going to see. So we go back to the hotel for a coffee, and a relaxing afternoon. While outside hail and then wet snow began to fall.

Seriously.

We feasted on frozen pizza and Boston beans that night, and tried to reduce the stock of booze we had accumulated, whilst outside there was a lot of weather, with rain hammering down for a while.