Monday
And you lucky people get yet another blog today, as tomorrow I am traveling to the frozen north, or Norway as its called. I haven't been to Norway since I left Bergen back in what must haven been the summer of 2008. But I am going back in January, there won't be much daylight of course. But the year before, I was working out of Hammerfest in the very north of the country, I flew into the town at the end of January, landing on what seemed like the side of a mountain in a blizzard. All the other passengers thought it normal, I was terrified, but once we had slowed down, and the view out of the window looked less like a snow globe, I calmed down.
I was there for 8 weeks, and in those eight weeks we got more than 8 hours daylight at the end that we had at the beginning. Such is life at 70 degrees north I suppose.
But more of Norway at the end of the week once I get home, I suppose.
Today will always be remembered the day the Duke dies; David Bowie of course. I was looking through Twitter when I saw a tweet saying RIP Bowie. I looked on the BBC and they confirmed it. All day I have had Radio 6 on as they played wall to wall Bowie, and shared stories and the such about Mr Bowie. A shame when work got in the way on occasion.
Outside the wind blew and the rain fell in curtains. Situation normal.
I got on with work, trying to catch up so I could do my three day trip to the roof of the world and not have too much when I returned.
The morning faded into afternoon as I caught up, sent documents out, reviewed others, had lunch, fed the cats an extra meal so to have some peace and quiet.
I cooked boiled chicken and rice for dinner; sounds grim, but is very nice and produces fully and sticky rice cooked in the juices of the chicken. Then some packing, another coffee with Jools and somehow the evening is slipping through my fingers once again. Where does the time go?
So, see you on Friday.
Monday, 11 January 2016
There's a starman waiting in the sky, he'd like to come and meet us but thinks he'd blow our minds
These are times when the phrase 'legend' gets overused. Almost everyone's a legend now. But then something happens, someone dies who really was a legend.
David Bowie passed away in the small hours and we woke up to the news, or I saw it as a Tweet from someone, can't remember who it was, and it don't really matter. That he released his, what is now, final album on Friday, his 69th birthday is remarkable. I tried to like what I heard off it, I did, but it challenged me. Now we can see it for what it was, a long glorious goodbye and thanks for the fish note from the erstwhile David Jones.
Will we see his like again? No, as there was no one like him to start with. Reinventing himself on an apparently annual basis, from hippy, to Aladin Sane, to Ziggy Stardust to the Thin White Duke to Bowie in Berlin, to Major Tom to, well, on and on and on. And just when the music world had caught up with what Bowie was doing, he had moved on yet again. He even did a drum n bass album, Tin Machine both in fairly recent years.
My sometime best friend at Primary School, Andrew Ellis, had a Bowie Aladin Sane t shirt: I thought it was very daring, as I suppose my parents must have said something during the Starman appearance on TOTP or something. I can remember Space Oddity coming out, then his Laughing Gnome song was always played on Junior Choice. He was always there, putting out challenging music, then changing direction just when we all got it. The ending of Ziggy Stardust when he and the Spiders where at the top of their game, at the final date of the tour was 100% Bowie.
I got to know of Bowie again in 1979 when he released DJ and Alabama Song, neither of shich I really understood or liked. But I'm sure I wasn't the only one. Then, in 1980, Ashes to Ashes came out, reviving his Major Tom character from Space Oddity. Only now he was high on drugs not up in space. But more than the sing, was the video, featuring the soon to be famous Blitz Kids Steve Strange et al. Through Scary Monsters, Cat People, Baal's Hymn to Let's Dance, putting guitars back just when everyone else was taking them off their music.
Through the 80s, the greatest hits Serious Moonlight tour, Absolute Beginners and into the new century with Tin Machine and the drum n bass album, always keeping more than one step ahead of everyone else. Then, in 2005, he semi-retired: health problems, flying food, surfacing to guest on other acts records. Then one day we woke up a few years back to find a new song released to the world during the night. But more amazing was that it was the teaser for a whole new album that no one had leaked or knew anything about.
A new album last Friday, on his birthday, then this news.
My favourite track of his, well, hard to choose a favourite as I have only heard a fraction of his output, this is the German version of Heroes, Helden, taken from the soundtrack of Christina F.
David Bowie passed away in the small hours and we woke up to the news, or I saw it as a Tweet from someone, can't remember who it was, and it don't really matter. That he released his, what is now, final album on Friday, his 69th birthday is remarkable. I tried to like what I heard off it, I did, but it challenged me. Now we can see it for what it was, a long glorious goodbye and thanks for the fish note from the erstwhile David Jones.
Will we see his like again? No, as there was no one like him to start with. Reinventing himself on an apparently annual basis, from hippy, to Aladin Sane, to Ziggy Stardust to the Thin White Duke to Bowie in Berlin, to Major Tom to, well, on and on and on. And just when the music world had caught up with what Bowie was doing, he had moved on yet again. He even did a drum n bass album, Tin Machine both in fairly recent years.
My sometime best friend at Primary School, Andrew Ellis, had a Bowie Aladin Sane t shirt: I thought it was very daring, as I suppose my parents must have said something during the Starman appearance on TOTP or something. I can remember Space Oddity coming out, then his Laughing Gnome song was always played on Junior Choice. He was always there, putting out challenging music, then changing direction just when we all got it. The ending of Ziggy Stardust when he and the Spiders where at the top of their game, at the final date of the tour was 100% Bowie.
I got to know of Bowie again in 1979 when he released DJ and Alabama Song, neither of shich I really understood or liked. But I'm sure I wasn't the only one. Then, in 1980, Ashes to Ashes came out, reviving his Major Tom character from Space Oddity. Only now he was high on drugs not up in space. But more than the sing, was the video, featuring the soon to be famous Blitz Kids Steve Strange et al. Through Scary Monsters, Cat People, Baal's Hymn to Let's Dance, putting guitars back just when everyone else was taking them off their music.
Through the 80s, the greatest hits Serious Moonlight tour, Absolute Beginners and into the new century with Tin Machine and the drum n bass album, always keeping more than one step ahead of everyone else. Then, in 2005, he semi-retired: health problems, flying food, surfacing to guest on other acts records. Then one day we woke up a few years back to find a new song released to the world during the night. But more amazing was that it was the teaser for a whole new album that no one had leaked or knew anything about.
A new album last Friday, on his birthday, then this news.
My favourite track of his, well, hard to choose a favourite as I have only heard a fraction of his output, this is the German version of Heroes, Helden, taken from the soundtrack of Christina F.
Monday 11th January 2016
Sunday
And another weekend slips away, with the thought that I have another three days away from home this week. But more of that another day.
It seems to have been raining since before Christmas. Rain and wind, and Sunday was no different, as already when we woke at seven, the rain was hammering on the windows at the back of the house. I make bacon butties and brews before I take to the sofa to watch the highlights of the 24 cup ties from the day previously. I realised that I had been unable to keep up all the scores as the games had been played, so many of the games results were unknown to me. Still, all fun. With the except to Norwich's result and performance of course.
Jools did a session on the cross trainer, and when she went to visit Nan, I did my own session, the first in a few weeks, in a bid to lose a few pounds prior to the holiday.
Nan is OK, apparently, as well as a soon to be 102 year old who lays in bed looking at the ceiling 24/7. Up at the old folks place, it seems the usual lack of communication is going well. However, things are progressing as we make plans for the holiday in just four months time.
Jools arrives home at two, we have cheese, crackers and wine. Or I have the wine anyway.
On the radio the 5 cup games play themselves out, with Oxford dumping Swansea out for the first real upset of the 3rd round.
With the late lunch, we skip a cooked meal for dinner and have pate on cornbread, which went down well with another huge cuppa. We end the day by watching a fine docmentary on the Romanov dynasty in pre-revolutionary Russia, and see plenty more places to add to our wish list.
And another weekend slips away, with the thought that I have another three days away from home this week. But more of that another day.
It seems to have been raining since before Christmas. Rain and wind, and Sunday was no different, as already when we woke at seven, the rain was hammering on the windows at the back of the house. I make bacon butties and brews before I take to the sofa to watch the highlights of the 24 cup ties from the day previously. I realised that I had been unable to keep up all the scores as the games had been played, so many of the games results were unknown to me. Still, all fun. With the except to Norwich's result and performance of course.
Jools did a session on the cross trainer, and when she went to visit Nan, I did my own session, the first in a few weeks, in a bid to lose a few pounds prior to the holiday.
Nan is OK, apparently, as well as a soon to be 102 year old who lays in bed looking at the ceiling 24/7. Up at the old folks place, it seems the usual lack of communication is going well. However, things are progressing as we make plans for the holiday in just four months time.
Jools arrives home at two, we have cheese, crackers and wine. Or I have the wine anyway.
On the radio the 5 cup games play themselves out, with Oxford dumping Swansea out for the first real upset of the 3rd round.
With the late lunch, we skip a cooked meal for dinner and have pate on cornbread, which went down well with another huge cuppa. We end the day by watching a fine docmentary on the Romanov dynasty in pre-revolutionary Russia, and see plenty more places to add to our wish list.
Sunday, 10 January 2016
Sunday 10th January 2016
Saturday
And just like that the weekend swings round, catching me broadside with the thought of there being no work or travel. And Jools was going to be away for the day, which meant I could do whatever I wanted, all day if I so desired.
The question was just what?
The first thing, obviously, was a trip to Tesco, to fill up the stores for the next week or so. And if Jen's alarm went off as planned, they would have headed off for a show, on ice, in Brighton. They were not on ice, the show was. Or would be. Probably.
So I bid her farewell, got in the car and drove to the shop, going there means having the hand held zapper thing and not having to go through the tills. It is easy enough, I whisk round, then around again as I get the stuff I missed the first time round They are always moving stuff, right? And sure enough when I got back home, the house was locked up and they had left for the bright lights of trendy Brighton.
I put the shopping away, had breakfast then thought about what to do. First of all was to go into town to snap Burlington House. It is now no longer a house really, just a challet, and is now just three or four stories high. Indeed from the steps down to the underpass from Newbridge, the castle behind can now be seen, a view that has not been possible since the 1960s.
The shots taken I wonder what to do next. The answer is of course churches. But as all three are subject to GWUK on Flickr, I can't tell you their identities, as the cheeky buggers read my blog sometimes. But I drive out of Dover on the A20, up Shakespeare Cliff towards Folkestone and to the churches beyond. Sadly, just to one church was open, a village one. Saturday mornings is a good time for churching, as many wardens use the morning for a clean so there is a good chance ta church will be open. But then again, you are far more likely to find a rural church unlocked than an urban one.
But as ever, the real pleasure is meeting the wardens, finding out about the community behind the church, and it is always great to find it is a very much living church.
It was by now just before midday, I was hungry, and with it being FA Cup 3rd round day, I thought I may as well drive back home for lunch then listen to the radio. Traffic was light back on the motorway, passing the Channel Tunnel terminal before turning off and making my way along Alkham Valley. I went that way to see if the Drellingore was flowing: it is a winterbourne, and with all the rain recently I thought there might be a chance it would. But as it turned out the valley bottom was dry, well at least with no flowing water anyways.
Back home I put the kettle on, put two cheesy twists in the oven to warm up, switch the radio on and go upstairs to fire the boiler up so to make the house nice and toasty.
3rd round day is special, and it would be nice if Norwich made it through this year. But that was unlikely as we had drawn Citeh at home, and indeed, two down by half time, three down soon after the re-start: we would have to wait yet another year. Just once I would like to see us make the final. Just once, you know.
Jools arrived home at seven, I popped some party food in the over; it was going cheap in the shop that morning, and what with a bottle of ale too, and some music on the radio whilst the wind and rain blew and howled outside. It was a fine evening at Chez Jelltex.
We made the final arrangements for the holiday, sent in the deposit to secure the rooms and flights. All very serious now, and the reality of holibobs in the land of the rising sun now a reality. Can't wait, and in four months time we will be there.
And just like that the weekend swings round, catching me broadside with the thought of there being no work or travel. And Jools was going to be away for the day, which meant I could do whatever I wanted, all day if I so desired.
The question was just what?
The first thing, obviously, was a trip to Tesco, to fill up the stores for the next week or so. And if Jen's alarm went off as planned, they would have headed off for a show, on ice, in Brighton. They were not on ice, the show was. Or would be. Probably.
So I bid her farewell, got in the car and drove to the shop, going there means having the hand held zapper thing and not having to go through the tills. It is easy enough, I whisk round, then around again as I get the stuff I missed the first time round They are always moving stuff, right? And sure enough when I got back home, the house was locked up and they had left for the bright lights of trendy Brighton.
I put the shopping away, had breakfast then thought about what to do. First of all was to go into town to snap Burlington House. It is now no longer a house really, just a challet, and is now just three or four stories high. Indeed from the steps down to the underpass from Newbridge, the castle behind can now be seen, a view that has not been possible since the 1960s.The shots taken I wonder what to do next. The answer is of course churches. But as all three are subject to GWUK on Flickr, I can't tell you their identities, as the cheeky buggers read my blog sometimes. But I drive out of Dover on the A20, up Shakespeare Cliff towards Folkestone and to the churches beyond. Sadly, just to one church was open, a village one. Saturday mornings is a good time for churching, as many wardens use the morning for a clean so there is a good chance ta church will be open. But then again, you are far more likely to find a rural church unlocked than an urban one.
But as ever, the real pleasure is meeting the wardens, finding out about the community behind the church, and it is always great to find it is a very much living church.It was by now just before midday, I was hungry, and with it being FA Cup 3rd round day, I thought I may as well drive back home for lunch then listen to the radio. Traffic was light back on the motorway, passing the Channel Tunnel terminal before turning off and making my way along Alkham Valley. I went that way to see if the Drellingore was flowing: it is a winterbourne, and with all the rain recently I thought there might be a chance it would. But as it turned out the valley bottom was dry, well at least with no flowing water anyways.
Back home I put the kettle on, put two cheesy twists in the oven to warm up, switch the radio on and go upstairs to fire the boiler up so to make the house nice and toasty.
3rd round day is special, and it would be nice if Norwich made it through this year. But that was unlikely as we had drawn Citeh at home, and indeed, two down by half time, three down soon after the re-start: we would have to wait yet another year. Just once I would like to see us make the final. Just once, you know.
Jools arrived home at seven, I popped some party food in the over; it was going cheap in the shop that morning, and what with a bottle of ale too, and some music on the radio whilst the wind and rain blew and howled outside. It was a fine evening at Chez Jelltex.
We made the final arrangements for the holiday, sent in the deposit to secure the rooms and flights. All very serious now, and the reality of holibobs in the land of the rising sun now a reality. Can't wait, and in four months time we will be there.
Looking back
I don't like to dwell on the past too much, but sometimes looking back does give us perspective. And if we don't learn from the mistakes of the past, how can we hope to improve things in the future.
I say this because re-reading my blogs from years gone by I see that on this day (10th January 2010) I was let go at the Box Factory is less than ideal conditions, being frog-marched from the premises twenty minutes before the end of my shift like I was a criminal. In the end, if course, all worked out swimmingly well, now that I am an International Playboy and Quality Expert, but at the time it hurt.
That in turn lead to a short time job surveying what was to become the Thanet Windfarm, then I got a job on that with the main contractor, which in turn lead to a full time job, company credit card and several frequent flyer cards. Phew, it has been a rush, I just wish I had been keeping this blog when I was working for Gardline from 2006, so you could share in my seafaring adventures. In fact I have many of the early blogs I wrote back then, but they are poorly written, with dreadful grammar and spelling, and would be out of sequence if I posted them here now.
Anyway, I relaise I forgot a few other highlights of last year when I did my review on New Year's Eve: the holiday, my 50th birthday and the holiday to the NE of England and Scotland. So many great memories and wonderful things we did. And there was the photo shoot in St Paul's Cathedral, a visit to St Bartholomew the Great, shoots in Dresden and Meissen and Amsterdam among other places. There were two reunions; school one for our 50th birthdays, and one in Lincoln for my old RAF trade. Memorable all, for various reasons, but also showed how I have grown and changed as a person.
Anyway, onwards and forwards. For the most part. The New car, Thursday 2nd April
Thursday.
The day of the great car exchange.
Or, the day we get our new wheels. And we're as excited as kids, although if the reality can be a little disappointing too. But more of that in a bit.
As I needed the car, old car, with which I had to part exchange for the new motor, I had to drop Jools off in town so she could catch the bus to work. For a working morning, all was quiet, and she was the only one in Penchester, and there were no buses. Hers was due any moment, so I dropped her off and went back home.
Another coffee, switch on the computer, fire off some mails, update a project document. And I think the rest can wait. At ten I switch the computer off. Into the kitchen to make saffron buns. This I really like, as the combination of yeast and saffron is wonderful, but that moment will have to wait as the dough has to be mixed then left to rise for several hours. I also make a batch of pasta salad, that done, I see I have a couple of hours to kill before I have to be at the garage.
I drive down the Nailbourne valley, up over the downs into another valley where there in a wood which is full of orchids. I walk up the bridleway to where the wood gets thicker, on both sides there are thousands of bluebells still growing furiously, and maybe a month from blooming. A little further up, there are the familiar spotted rosettes. There are many more than two weeks ago, but the spikes are still growing, and at least two weeks from being being full of blooms. I guess the weather has not warmed as expected, which explains why they are later than I expected.
Anyway, having seen the Early Purples, I make my way back down to the car, and drive back towards Dover where it is show time at the garage.
Traffic is light, so I arrive a few minutes early. Inside many folks are looking around the shiny things in the showroom. All is ready for me, the most amazing amount of paperwork to sign, I am introduced to the service manager, as they want to sell us a service plan, which may or may not be good value. Sign more papers, shake hands with the franchise manager, and I get the keys. It has been brought round to the door, all black and shiny. I get in, it has 5 miles on the clock. I adjust the mirrors, put on the seat belt and start the engine. It hardly makes a noise.
Driving off the forecourt means the car loses a third of its value. There is no indication of this when you are driving.
I take the car into town, down Castle Hill, through the market place and up Military Hill the other side to St Martin's Battery. I snap the car, snap the view. Any other driving around is wasteful I think sensibly. So I drive back, put the buns in the oven, as I have an hour before I have to leave and collect Jools from work.
The house is soon filled with the glorious small of the baking buns. It is wonderful. Once I cooked i could have eaten one thickly buttered there and ten. But I will wait until we are home.
A drive through the Alkham Valley to Folkestone, then through Saltwood to Hythe, arriving at the factory some 20 minutes early. I work out how the radio works, and listen to the end of the Steve Wright show, I shudder to think Radio 1 used to be like this.
Jools drives back, and she is happy with the car. Just as well really.
Back home I make a brew and we have one of the buns. So full of saffrony goodness and flavour. Lovely.
Later we have Scotch eggs with the pasta, which whilst not perfect means it is dished up within 5 minutes of hunger being declared. That evening I watch TOTP, and it was the edition I hoped for, the one with Rush featured, and Spirit of Radio. Back in March 1980, I was into heavy metal and loud music in general. Rush were like Gids, like they are again now, but back then, when it was announced that Rush would be featured on Top of the Pops as they had a hit record, all of my friends and I were so excited. So we wait all week to Thursday night, and third record in, Spirit of Radio is announced, but much to our horror, its the song which the dance 'troupe' Legs & Co were dancing too. But its worse than that, as they must have had a week off, as its a compilation of their 'finest' moments, all done with added dreadful visual effects.
I remember the letters of complaints to Sounds the week after. The shock of that I still remember to this day. That was countered by Martha and the Muffins being on the same show, but then so was Shakin' Stevens doing his innuendo filled song, Hot Dog.
50th birthday, 25th AugustTuesday
50th birthday
Cease fire, we're going in!
I wake at six when the alarm goes off, outside it is still dawn, showing how old the year is getting. Indeed, in four months it will be Christmas Day. Apparently. This I know as today is my birthday.
Jools wishes me happy birthday gives me a kiss, and once downstairs, there is a bag of gifts for me. She makes coffee and watches over me as I open each of the presents and her card. There are cards from other friends and family, which I can now open too. Each gives me joy that they have remembered.
Jools has to leave for work, and indeed I have work to do, updating KPIs and checking mail. However, at ten I set an out of office message and decide I should maybe go for a walk as bad weather was due to be sweeping in by lunchtime.
I just walk over the fields to the butterfly glade, just to see what was about, and was rewarded with a few Speckled Woods, Brown Argus, Red Admirals, Large Whites and Common Blues. I get a few shots but I look to the north west and see huge black clouds approaching. So I turn for home, and am rewarded with a few large raindrops as I make my way back across the fields.
I have to field a call from Mother, which I suppose is to be expected, and as long as certain subjects are avoided, we remain on civil terms, which is what happens.
Post arrives and I have more cards, and again really nice that people have remembered.
At half twelve Jools comes home, and we ponder what to do the rest of the afternoon. Outside it is monsoon-like, throwing it down with rain. There is no point in going anywhere outside, or getting to anywhere that is inside, as this would mean going outside. We have fishcakes in rolls for lunch, then I am given the choice of what to do, so I choose to watch Bull Durham. Which is what we do, and whilst on the sofa, and the rain hammers down outside, we enjoy the film and I sip very expensive whisky, which makes me feel like a millionaire.
At six we climb into our wet weather gear for the dash to the car outside, and then we can drive to town to meet with friends. We find a parking place right outside the restaurant, which is always nice, and good as it is still hammering down outside. We have a table booked in Blakes, which seemed to be a nice place, and none of us had been in either been in or for over 25 years. If at all in my case. The beer is good and the food is OK. Sadly I chose the burger, which I really must get out of the habit of having, but hey.
As we go to leave, a car driven by Belgians stops to ask us directions; the best way is for us to show them to their hotel, so we take them on the big circle that is the one way system, and once outside it, we drive back home, under what are now almost clear skies, and the moon is now three-quarters full. Where did the month go?
City were playing at Rotherham in the League Cup, or whatever it is called this week, and we rund out 2-1 winners, but the big story is one of our players walking out. Oh dear, Lewis!
I resist another whisky, and instead I go to bed at normal time, with the wind howling outside, and Jools and I trying to find room on the bed between three sleeping cats.
I say this because re-reading my blogs from years gone by I see that on this day (10th January 2010) I was let go at the Box Factory is less than ideal conditions, being frog-marched from the premises twenty minutes before the end of my shift like I was a criminal. In the end, if course, all worked out swimmingly well, now that I am an International Playboy and Quality Expert, but at the time it hurt.
That in turn lead to a short time job surveying what was to become the Thanet Windfarm, then I got a job on that with the main contractor, which in turn lead to a full time job, company credit card and several frequent flyer cards. Phew, it has been a rush, I just wish I had been keeping this blog when I was working for Gardline from 2006, so you could share in my seafaring adventures. In fact I have many of the early blogs I wrote back then, but they are poorly written, with dreadful grammar and spelling, and would be out of sequence if I posted them here now.
Anyway, I relaise I forgot a few other highlights of last year when I did my review on New Year's Eve: the holiday, my 50th birthday and the holiday to the NE of England and Scotland. So many great memories and wonderful things we did. And there was the photo shoot in St Paul's Cathedral, a visit to St Bartholomew the Great, shoots in Dresden and Meissen and Amsterdam among other places. There were two reunions; school one for our 50th birthdays, and one in Lincoln for my old RAF trade. Memorable all, for various reasons, but also showed how I have grown and changed as a person.
Anyway, onwards and forwards. For the most part. The New car, Thursday 2nd April
Thursday.
The day of the great car exchange.
Or, the day we get our new wheels. And we're as excited as kids, although if the reality can be a little disappointing too. But more of that in a bit.
As I needed the car, old car, with which I had to part exchange for the new motor, I had to drop Jools off in town so she could catch the bus to work. For a working morning, all was quiet, and she was the only one in Penchester, and there were no buses. Hers was due any moment, so I dropped her off and went back home.
Another coffee, switch on the computer, fire off some mails, update a project document. And I think the rest can wait. At ten I switch the computer off. Into the kitchen to make saffron buns. This I really like, as the combination of yeast and saffron is wonderful, but that moment will have to wait as the dough has to be mixed then left to rise for several hours. I also make a batch of pasta salad, that done, I see I have a couple of hours to kill before I have to be at the garage.
I drive down the Nailbourne valley, up over the downs into another valley where there in a wood which is full of orchids. I walk up the bridleway to where the wood gets thicker, on both sides there are thousands of bluebells still growing furiously, and maybe a month from blooming. A little further up, there are the familiar spotted rosettes. There are many more than two weeks ago, but the spikes are still growing, and at least two weeks from being being full of blooms. I guess the weather has not warmed as expected, which explains why they are later than I expected.
Anyway, having seen the Early Purples, I make my way back down to the car, and drive back towards Dover where it is show time at the garage.
Traffic is light, so I arrive a few minutes early. Inside many folks are looking around the shiny things in the showroom. All is ready for me, the most amazing amount of paperwork to sign, I am introduced to the service manager, as they want to sell us a service plan, which may or may not be good value. Sign more papers, shake hands with the franchise manager, and I get the keys. It has been brought round to the door, all black and shiny. I get in, it has 5 miles on the clock. I adjust the mirrors, put on the seat belt and start the engine. It hardly makes a noise.
Driving off the forecourt means the car loses a third of its value. There is no indication of this when you are driving.
I take the car into town, down Castle Hill, through the market place and up Military Hill the other side to St Martin's Battery. I snap the car, snap the view. Any other driving around is wasteful I think sensibly. So I drive back, put the buns in the oven, as I have an hour before I have to leave and collect Jools from work.
The house is soon filled with the glorious small of the baking buns. It is wonderful. Once I cooked i could have eaten one thickly buttered there and ten. But I will wait until we are home.
A drive through the Alkham Valley to Folkestone, then through Saltwood to Hythe, arriving at the factory some 20 minutes early. I work out how the radio works, and listen to the end of the Steve Wright show, I shudder to think Radio 1 used to be like this.
Jools drives back, and she is happy with the car. Just as well really.
Back home I make a brew and we have one of the buns. So full of saffrony goodness and flavour. Lovely.
Later we have Scotch eggs with the pasta, which whilst not perfect means it is dished up within 5 minutes of hunger being declared. That evening I watch TOTP, and it was the edition I hoped for, the one with Rush featured, and Spirit of Radio. Back in March 1980, I was into heavy metal and loud music in general. Rush were like Gids, like they are again now, but back then, when it was announced that Rush would be featured on Top of the Pops as they had a hit record, all of my friends and I were so excited. So we wait all week to Thursday night, and third record in, Spirit of Radio is announced, but much to our horror, its the song which the dance 'troupe' Legs & Co were dancing too. But its worse than that, as they must have had a week off, as its a compilation of their 'finest' moments, all done with added dreadful visual effects.
I remember the letters of complaints to Sounds the week after. The shock of that I still remember to this day. That was countered by Martha and the Muffins being on the same show, but then so was Shakin' Stevens doing his innuendo filled song, Hot Dog.
50th birthday, 25th AugustTuesday
50th birthday
Cease fire, we're going in!
I wake at six when the alarm goes off, outside it is still dawn, showing how old the year is getting. Indeed, in four months it will be Christmas Day. Apparently. This I know as today is my birthday.
Jools wishes me happy birthday gives me a kiss, and once downstairs, there is a bag of gifts for me. She makes coffee and watches over me as I open each of the presents and her card. There are cards from other friends and family, which I can now open too. Each gives me joy that they have remembered.
Jools has to leave for work, and indeed I have work to do, updating KPIs and checking mail. However, at ten I set an out of office message and decide I should maybe go for a walk as bad weather was due to be sweeping in by lunchtime.
I just walk over the fields to the butterfly glade, just to see what was about, and was rewarded with a few Speckled Woods, Brown Argus, Red Admirals, Large Whites and Common Blues. I get a few shots but I look to the north west and see huge black clouds approaching. So I turn for home, and am rewarded with a few large raindrops as I make my way back across the fields.I have to field a call from Mother, which I suppose is to be expected, and as long as certain subjects are avoided, we remain on civil terms, which is what happens.
Post arrives and I have more cards, and again really nice that people have remembered.
At half twelve Jools comes home, and we ponder what to do the rest of the afternoon. Outside it is monsoon-like, throwing it down with rain. There is no point in going anywhere outside, or getting to anywhere that is inside, as this would mean going outside. We have fishcakes in rolls for lunch, then I am given the choice of what to do, so I choose to watch Bull Durham. Which is what we do, and whilst on the sofa, and the rain hammers down outside, we enjoy the film and I sip very expensive whisky, which makes me feel like a millionaire.At six we climb into our wet weather gear for the dash to the car outside, and then we can drive to town to meet with friends. We find a parking place right outside the restaurant, which is always nice, and good as it is still hammering down outside. We have a table booked in Blakes, which seemed to be a nice place, and none of us had been in either been in or for over 25 years. If at all in my case. The beer is good and the food is OK. Sadly I chose the burger, which I really must get out of the habit of having, but hey.
As we go to leave, a car driven by Belgians stops to ask us directions; the best way is for us to show them to their hotel, so we take them on the big circle that is the one way system, and once outside it, we drive back home, under what are now almost clear skies, and the moon is now three-quarters full. Where did the month go?City were playing at Rotherham in the League Cup, or whatever it is called this week, and we rund out 2-1 winners, but the big story is one of our players walking out. Oh dear, Lewis!
I resist another whisky, and instead I go to bed at normal time, with the wind howling outside, and Jools and I trying to find room on the bed between three sleeping cats.
Saturday, 9 January 2016
Saturday 10th January 2016
Friday
Its a good job I set the alarm as it struggled to wake me at half five DK time, that's half four UK time. I groaned and went to look at the snow outside. I suppose there was half an inch, and already I could hear the small squadron of snowblowers clearing the runway and dispersal pans. I should be OK I thought.
I got dressed and packed again. Along the corridor I handed the key in at the desk and went to have breakfast: cereal and a roll with two coffees. There were already a few people about, most families going on holiday I guess, but also others in the wind industry, judging by the logos on their coats.
Outside the wind was whipping the flurries of snow about, and as the evening before, it felt bitterly cold. And it was a head wind to the terminal: so I wrap up as best I could and curse myself for not bothering with the woolly hat can warm gloves. I have a warm work jumper on too, which is fine, as long as I was outside. Once inside I would warm up, but not until I checked my case in, which meant I would be carrying it until I got my case back, which as it turned out could be a very long time indeed.
The departure lounge is emptier than normal, so I find a table underneath the business lounge so I could use their wifi and get work done, check on the news and all the other stuff that modern life requires of us. An hour later it is time to board, so I walk to gate 2, show my boarding cards and I am let on.
Out on the pan, the snow is still blowing around, but the blowers are doing their work too. As we wait to taxi, two flights take off with no worries, so we should be OK.
Almost as soon as we lift off, we lose sight of the ground, I get a glimpse of the snow-covered Legoland and the streets around it, clear of snow. Up into the clouds and up until we break through the clouds and above us is just the sparkle of stars against the black sky. And yet, in the east light could be seen, hinting of dawn to come.
I have a 2nd breakfast, as I like a good breakfast as any hobbit, but I was getting full now. More rolls, more coffee. Many tanks, BA.
As to approach the English coast, the clouds clear and from about 20,000 feet, I see the sweep of The Wash flattening out along the north Norfolk coast, before that too heads south, fading into the gloom of pre-dawn. And I had no camera to record the view, so you'll just have to take my word for it, and how splendid it was. In and out of clouds, I get a sight of the snow-capped pennines as we get ever lower. Over several industrial towns as we turn onto final approach.
As glorious as the dawn might be, Manchester is not where I wanted to be. I check my boarding pass for the next flight and I see I had just 40 minutes before take off, and 25 before boarding was due to close. I walk from the aircraft and see a member of staff at the door to the terminal. I explain to her my situation, and she understands, let me see what I can do she says. She takes me up some back stairs to the departure area, I can see the gate from here. She has to call her supervisor to see if she can let me on without me going through immigration.
I hold my breath.
She can't.
So I have to go back down these stairs, through a door and onto a waiting bus. The three of us, it turns out, who need to connect to the London flight, are taken round the terminal building to the transfer entrance, we rush out, go up more stairs and me being first I show my passport. I am directed to a waiting area. There is no one manning border control.
I look at my watch, ten minutes before the gate closes.
I ask the guy on the desk why I am waiting: until your passport is checked. But you just checked it. Please wait. Grr.
I apologise to the two Danes with me for my country.
In time a woman arrives at the border; she power up the computer, logs on, and waves me forward. She looks at my passport and lets me through.
Up more steps and out into a corridor, opposite is gate 16, I have to find 18. I look to the left, and some 50 yards up there is the gate, with no people and a single member of staff on the gate. I run. Yes, run, to the gate, waving my pass. You from the Sun-Air flight he asked. I confirm, and he waves me through. The Airbus is less than a quarter full, but all eyes are on me as I make my way down the plane to row 22 to my seat. We then have to wait for the two Danes to make it, then we can leave.
The engines power up, we are reversed out from the gate and make our way to the piano keys at the start of the runway, jumping in front of a small plane heading for Jersey: take that boys.
Up into the sky we go, passing over an almost perfect patchwork of fields edged by ancient hedges. Climbing we pass over Crewe, identifiable by the network of railways lines spreading out from it. We follow the M6 down, losing it sometimes in the clouds, but always there when the view clears.
Despite the flight lasting just 40 minutes, there is time for a drink and another breakfast; which I refuse. Even I stop at two breakfasts.
We circle over north London, getting lower before we make the final turn over London Bridge onto final. I know this as the pinnacle of The Shard is showing through the clouds, would have made a fine picture, if I'd have had a camera. Clouds clear as we pass over Victoria, I see where we had walked a week before, including Buckingham Palace, but in a moment the view was gone.
We land and then have a ten minute taxi to Terminal 5, getting a look at all the other four, apparently. I am last off the plane, but as we have already cleared customs, we are a domestic arrival and so we can go straight to baggage reclaim. By now the single bag from the flight was waiting to be claimed, and it wasn't mine. I am asked to fill in a form and assured that my case would be delivered to my home. They didn't say when mind.
On the way to customs I see a guy selling train tickets, so I buy mine to get me into London, then just follow the signs to the station where the next one was due to leave in 11 minutes. I take my seat, and am joined in the seats opposite by a Dutch family in London for a day visit. The children are excited, but in ten minutes go from screaming nightmares into sleeping babes in arms. Their Mother joins them by the time the train moves off.
At Paddington I follow the signs to the Underground, just four stops to Kings Cross, and I get a seat. At Kings Cross, a long walk through tunnels to St Pancras up into the undercroft. Now, with the disruption to services to Dover, I was not sure when a train to Folkestone might leave, as the timetable is shot to pieces. I see I had 35 minutes, so time for a coffee and a slice of creamy gooey sponge. Naughty but nice.
I manage to get on the train without paying the 10p excess fare as my ticket was just from Statford. And it with these small victories we can win the war. Or something.
The run you know by now, in tunnels to Stratford, and another one until we emerge at Daggenham, then across the marshes to Thurrock, over the M25 then under the river into Kent.
We all get off at Folestone West, climbing onto a double decker bus for the last few miles into Dover. The driver ignores all speed limits as we power along the A20 over Shakespeare Cliff. I am sitting in the front seat on the top deck, and have wonderful views over the cliffs to France some twenty or so miles beyond.
The taxi is waiting for me, and despite the driver being a proper grump, I am in good spirits as he takes me home via Connaught Hill and the Deal road. Molly even comes down to check on who has come in, and seems happy that it is me, if I feed her of course.
It is two in the afternoon, I have been on the go ten hours and suddenly I feel very tired indeed. I take to the sofa, with Molly at my feet as the heating struggles to take the chill off the afternoon. The radio burbles in the background, and it is the weekend.
Jools is to bring fish and chips home for dinner. so I have nothing to do, other than to have the kettle hot when she arrives and have some bread buttered for butties.
Mulder is on medicine, as it seems he has been bitten, got infected and now the infection has burst on his leg. He is wanting attention, food and lots more sleeps than is normal. He is harrying his sister by the end of the day, so not all wrong with the boy then.
It is FA weekend, and Liverpool were on live, at Exeter. End in a 2-2 draw, and Liverpool were outplayed for most of the game. Exciting stuff, but I am shattered. Time for bed, I think.
Its a good job I set the alarm as it struggled to wake me at half five DK time, that's half four UK time. I groaned and went to look at the snow outside. I suppose there was half an inch, and already I could hear the small squadron of snowblowers clearing the runway and dispersal pans. I should be OK I thought.
I got dressed and packed again. Along the corridor I handed the key in at the desk and went to have breakfast: cereal and a roll with two coffees. There were already a few people about, most families going on holiday I guess, but also others in the wind industry, judging by the logos on their coats.
Outside the wind was whipping the flurries of snow about, and as the evening before, it felt bitterly cold. And it was a head wind to the terminal: so I wrap up as best I could and curse myself for not bothering with the woolly hat can warm gloves. I have a warm work jumper on too, which is fine, as long as I was outside. Once inside I would warm up, but not until I checked my case in, which meant I would be carrying it until I got my case back, which as it turned out could be a very long time indeed.
The departure lounge is emptier than normal, so I find a table underneath the business lounge so I could use their wifi and get work done, check on the news and all the other stuff that modern life requires of us. An hour later it is time to board, so I walk to gate 2, show my boarding cards and I am let on.
Out on the pan, the snow is still blowing around, but the blowers are doing their work too. As we wait to taxi, two flights take off with no worries, so we should be OK.
Almost as soon as we lift off, we lose sight of the ground, I get a glimpse of the snow-covered Legoland and the streets around it, clear of snow. Up into the clouds and up until we break through the clouds and above us is just the sparkle of stars against the black sky. And yet, in the east light could be seen, hinting of dawn to come.
I have a 2nd breakfast, as I like a good breakfast as any hobbit, but I was getting full now. More rolls, more coffee. Many tanks, BA.
As to approach the English coast, the clouds clear and from about 20,000 feet, I see the sweep of The Wash flattening out along the north Norfolk coast, before that too heads south, fading into the gloom of pre-dawn. And I had no camera to record the view, so you'll just have to take my word for it, and how splendid it was. In and out of clouds, I get a sight of the snow-capped pennines as we get ever lower. Over several industrial towns as we turn onto final approach.
As glorious as the dawn might be, Manchester is not where I wanted to be. I check my boarding pass for the next flight and I see I had just 40 minutes before take off, and 25 before boarding was due to close. I walk from the aircraft and see a member of staff at the door to the terminal. I explain to her my situation, and she understands, let me see what I can do she says. She takes me up some back stairs to the departure area, I can see the gate from here. She has to call her supervisor to see if she can let me on without me going through immigration.
I hold my breath.She can't.
So I have to go back down these stairs, through a door and onto a waiting bus. The three of us, it turns out, who need to connect to the London flight, are taken round the terminal building to the transfer entrance, we rush out, go up more stairs and me being first I show my passport. I am directed to a waiting area. There is no one manning border control.
I look at my watch, ten minutes before the gate closes.
I ask the guy on the desk why I am waiting: until your passport is checked. But you just checked it. Please wait. Grr.
I apologise to the two Danes with me for my country.
In time a woman arrives at the border; she power up the computer, logs on, and waves me forward. She looks at my passport and lets me through.
Up more steps and out into a corridor, opposite is gate 16, I have to find 18. I look to the left, and some 50 yards up there is the gate, with no people and a single member of staff on the gate. I run. Yes, run, to the gate, waving my pass. You from the Sun-Air flight he asked. I confirm, and he waves me through. The Airbus is less than a quarter full, but all eyes are on me as I make my way down the plane to row 22 to my seat. We then have to wait for the two Danes to make it, then we can leave.
The engines power up, we are reversed out from the gate and make our way to the piano keys at the start of the runway, jumping in front of a small plane heading for Jersey: take that boys.
Up into the sky we go, passing over an almost perfect patchwork of fields edged by ancient hedges. Climbing we pass over Crewe, identifiable by the network of railways lines spreading out from it. We follow the M6 down, losing it sometimes in the clouds, but always there when the view clears.
Despite the flight lasting just 40 minutes, there is time for a drink and another breakfast; which I refuse. Even I stop at two breakfasts.
We circle over north London, getting lower before we make the final turn over London Bridge onto final. I know this as the pinnacle of The Shard is showing through the clouds, would have made a fine picture, if I'd have had a camera. Clouds clear as we pass over Victoria, I see where we had walked a week before, including Buckingham Palace, but in a moment the view was gone.
We land and then have a ten minute taxi to Terminal 5, getting a look at all the other four, apparently. I am last off the plane, but as we have already cleared customs, we are a domestic arrival and so we can go straight to baggage reclaim. By now the single bag from the flight was waiting to be claimed, and it wasn't mine. I am asked to fill in a form and assured that my case would be delivered to my home. They didn't say when mind.
On the way to customs I see a guy selling train tickets, so I buy mine to get me into London, then just follow the signs to the station where the next one was due to leave in 11 minutes. I take my seat, and am joined in the seats opposite by a Dutch family in London for a day visit. The children are excited, but in ten minutes go from screaming nightmares into sleeping babes in arms. Their Mother joins them by the time the train moves off.
At Paddington I follow the signs to the Underground, just four stops to Kings Cross, and I get a seat. At Kings Cross, a long walk through tunnels to St Pancras up into the undercroft. Now, with the disruption to services to Dover, I was not sure when a train to Folkestone might leave, as the timetable is shot to pieces. I see I had 35 minutes, so time for a coffee and a slice of creamy gooey sponge. Naughty but nice.
I manage to get on the train without paying the 10p excess fare as my ticket was just from Statford. And it with these small victories we can win the war. Or something.
The run you know by now, in tunnels to Stratford, and another one until we emerge at Daggenham, then across the marshes to Thurrock, over the M25 then under the river into Kent.
We all get off at Folestone West, climbing onto a double decker bus for the last few miles into Dover. The driver ignores all speed limits as we power along the A20 over Shakespeare Cliff. I am sitting in the front seat on the top deck, and have wonderful views over the cliffs to France some twenty or so miles beyond.
The taxi is waiting for me, and despite the driver being a proper grump, I am in good spirits as he takes me home via Connaught Hill and the Deal road. Molly even comes down to check on who has come in, and seems happy that it is me, if I feed her of course.It is two in the afternoon, I have been on the go ten hours and suddenly I feel very tired indeed. I take to the sofa, with Molly at my feet as the heating struggles to take the chill off the afternoon. The radio burbles in the background, and it is the weekend.
Jools is to bring fish and chips home for dinner. so I have nothing to do, other than to have the kettle hot when she arrives and have some bread buttered for butties.
Mulder is on medicine, as it seems he has been bitten, got infected and now the infection has burst on his leg. He is wanting attention, food and lots more sleeps than is normal. He is harrying his sister by the end of the day, so not all wrong with the boy then.
It is FA weekend, and Liverpool were on live, at Exeter. End in a 2-2 draw, and Liverpool were outplayed for most of the game. Exciting stuff, but I am shattered. Time for bed, I think.
Friday, 8 January 2016
Friday 8th January 2016
Thursday
I woke at six and thought that I might like another few minutes in bed. At twenty to eight I jolted awake wondering how late it might be. Oh dearie me, I hoped I had no meeting at eight! Outside, there was no snow, which meant the short commute should be uneventful. I had to check out, then go for a quick breakfast: it was twenty past eight, and if I was lucky I would be in the office by half past, and after checking I see I had a meeting at nine till half ten, another meeting for an hour, then lunch then my training meeting during which I would send people to sleep using just the power of powerpoint. And that would take me all the way to five, at which time it would be time to drive to the hotel at the airport.
At breakfast I get a call: your flight in the morning has been cancelled; do you mind going via Manchester? Like I have a choice; well I do, either that or take the evening flight, which will not get me home until ten at the earliest. So, I choose to go via Manchester, which means the trip home will be an adventure, if nothing else, and give me something to write about.
Out on the ring road, traffic was crazy, but I dodge through it before turning back towards the office. I have time to speak to a couple of people before the meeting. Business meetings are the same, even if it is just one in our department; they become a talking shop, and go round and round and round and round in circles until we talk that to death and there is no time to discuss anything else. Wonderful. I hear rumours of an all day meeting later in the month. I shudder.
Another meeting, lunch, then find the room which I booked and wait for the previous meeting to vacate it. I have little planned, just a few powerpoint slides. But it lasts for two hours, we cover everything, and it seems the rest of the project learned something.
There is still talk of the snow storm, so I decide to leave early, at three, for the drive to the airport, missing the worse of the traffic and hopefully, the weather. I wish my colleagues well and dash to the car and get on the main road for the motorway before it jams up. It is busy, but the traffic keeps flowing, and I make it onto the motorway then head south into the brighter part of the sky showing where the setting sun was.
I arrive at the airport at quarter to five, I park the car, hand the keys in then decide to have an early dinner. And being the airport it means there is a very limited choice to eat: burger and fries. I have a medium beer, which is about perfect with the meal. Done, now to walk to the hotel, check in and get some work done.
Outside, it was bitterly cold, there was snow in the air, and although just below freezing, it felt ten degrees lower. It is just a few minutes walk, 5 at the most, but it felt longer. And once inside I was accosted by a golden retriever puppy that discovered my hands were tainted by burger juices. He licked my hands over and over again. I feel that is just what Jools would like us to have with the cats.
In my room I unpack the computer, get down to work, but I am soon diverted by a re-run of the Citeh v QPR game which won Citeh the title a few years back. It really was an incredible game, with their fans running the extreme of emotions before the equalising then winning goal in injury time. After that I found the Wigan v Gillingham game live on another channel. I had it on with the sound turned down as I finished my work.
Another day down, and tomorrow I go home.
Maybe
I woke at six and thought that I might like another few minutes in bed. At twenty to eight I jolted awake wondering how late it might be. Oh dearie me, I hoped I had no meeting at eight! Outside, there was no snow, which meant the short commute should be uneventful. I had to check out, then go for a quick breakfast: it was twenty past eight, and if I was lucky I would be in the office by half past, and after checking I see I had a meeting at nine till half ten, another meeting for an hour, then lunch then my training meeting during which I would send people to sleep using just the power of powerpoint. And that would take me all the way to five, at which time it would be time to drive to the hotel at the airport.
At breakfast I get a call: your flight in the morning has been cancelled; do you mind going via Manchester? Like I have a choice; well I do, either that or take the evening flight, which will not get me home until ten at the earliest. So, I choose to go via Manchester, which means the trip home will be an adventure, if nothing else, and give me something to write about.
Out on the ring road, traffic was crazy, but I dodge through it before turning back towards the office. I have time to speak to a couple of people before the meeting. Business meetings are the same, even if it is just one in our department; they become a talking shop, and go round and round and round and round in circles until we talk that to death and there is no time to discuss anything else. Wonderful. I hear rumours of an all day meeting later in the month. I shudder.
Another meeting, lunch, then find the room which I booked and wait for the previous meeting to vacate it. I have little planned, just a few powerpoint slides. But it lasts for two hours, we cover everything, and it seems the rest of the project learned something.
There is still talk of the snow storm, so I decide to leave early, at three, for the drive to the airport, missing the worse of the traffic and hopefully, the weather. I wish my colleagues well and dash to the car and get on the main road for the motorway before it jams up. It is busy, but the traffic keeps flowing, and I make it onto the motorway then head south into the brighter part of the sky showing where the setting sun was.
I arrive at the airport at quarter to five, I park the car, hand the keys in then decide to have an early dinner. And being the airport it means there is a very limited choice to eat: burger and fries. I have a medium beer, which is about perfect with the meal. Done, now to walk to the hotel, check in and get some work done.
Outside, it was bitterly cold, there was snow in the air, and although just below freezing, it felt ten degrees lower. It is just a few minutes walk, 5 at the most, but it felt longer. And once inside I was accosted by a golden retriever puppy that discovered my hands were tainted by burger juices. He licked my hands over and over again. I feel that is just what Jools would like us to have with the cats.
In my room I unpack the computer, get down to work, but I am soon diverted by a re-run of the Citeh v QPR game which won Citeh the title a few years back. It really was an incredible game, with their fans running the extreme of emotions before the equalising then winning goal in injury time. After that I found the Wigan v Gillingham game live on another channel. I had it on with the sound turned down as I finished my work.
Another day down, and tomorrow I go home.
Maybe
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
