The car insurance renewal notice came in yesterday, announcing a hike of 10%. Today’s post brought the boiler maintenance renewal, up 20%, and the water bill, no less than 64% up on the last one. Given the paltry statutory revisions of our pensions, nephews, nieces and a few charities had better start revising their expectations.
Still, today’s good news is that the Macmillan coffee morning brought in £188 and 1€ (which I bought for £1). Our lovely village Post Office happily took the cash to pay into our joint account at the teetering TSB, and the cheque and gift aid form are ready to go in the post in the morning. There are some generous people around, eh?
Friday 28 September 2018
Thursday 27 September 2018
Home stuff
Can’t remember the last time I blew up a balloon. Well, I have done four this evening in preparation for tomorrow’s coffee morning in aid of Macmillan Cancer Care, and shall put them out in the morning together with the bunting that comes with the Macmillan pack. We have been baking like mad for the past week, so hope our efforts will be appreciated - and lucrative. At least one of our guests tomorrow has benefited from Macmillan’s efforts.
Meanwhile, the landscapers have been busy: the front and side garden is suddenly much bigger than we thought, and we have the beginnings of a box hedge that continues round the perimeter from where I started it some years ago. It may even need clipping in my lifetime.
Though Miss has officially retired, the art group has decided to continue to meet on Thursday mornings, and we did so this morning. Martyn has joined our happy band, and was not too reluctantly cajoled into becoming our treasurer. It helps to have a retired accounting lecturer on the strength, eh?
Oh, I forgot to mention something when I scribbled about our last outing to Birling gap and Beachy Head. Most days here at Forges-l’Evêque we hear a Spitfire flying over at intervals. Converted late in the war into a two-seat trainer, and now powered by a Rolls-Royce Merlin salvaged from a Mosquito, it evidently belongs to some joker who offers flights out of Biggin Hill at close on £3000 a pop. Anyway, when we were at Birling Gap, there it was, swooping back and forth along the white cliffs. Good fun, no doubt.
Couple of days at the hobby, lately, plus the AGM of the local hobby club. Non-members like me were also invited, attracted by a visit to the Sikh temple in Gravesend. Fascinating. Which is more than can be said of the ensuing AGM, alas.
Meanwhile, the landscapers have been busy: the front and side garden is suddenly much bigger than we thought, and we have the beginnings of a box hedge that continues round the perimeter from where I started it some years ago. It may even need clipping in my lifetime.
Though Miss has officially retired, the art group has decided to continue to meet on Thursday mornings, and we did so this morning. Martyn has joined our happy band, and was not too reluctantly cajoled into becoming our treasurer. It helps to have a retired accounting lecturer on the strength, eh?
Oh, I forgot to mention something when I scribbled about our last outing to Birling gap and Beachy Head. Most days here at Forges-l’Evêque we hear a Spitfire flying over at intervals. Converted late in the war into a two-seat trainer, and now powered by a Rolls-Royce Merlin salvaged from a Mosquito, it evidently belongs to some joker who offers flights out of Biggin Hill at close on £3000 a pop. Anyway, when we were at Birling Gap, there it was, swooping back and forth along the white cliffs. Good fun, no doubt.
Couple of days at the hobby, lately, plus the AGM of the local hobby club. Non-members like me were also invited, attracted by a visit to the Sikh temple in Gravesend. Fascinating. Which is more than can be said of the ensuing AGM, alas.
Friday 14 September 2018
Disgustedville
Home again, after a longish journey, and I wasn’t dissuaded from taking a taxi home! Our train left Edinburgh about 12 minutes late, and matters were not helped by a van gatecrashing a level crossing gate. But the time we thus lost was largely made up by quick connexions at St Pancras and London Bridge. I still feel pretty tired after eight hours: one bus, three trains and a taxi. Thank goodness we travel light!
Our travelling companions were a delight: a woman d’un certain age, her daughter, the latter’s sweet, docile lurcher and a young IT specialist. The train itself, another manifestation of Grayling Railways, was rather tired, and the catering was not as advertised. Still, we were fed after a fashion, and plied with somewhat indifferent wine at intervals.
We got home to find that the landscapers have been busy. The overgrown and mutilated cherry tree, the grass (such as it was) and the shrubs and weeds behind the conservatory have gone, without our having had to listen to chainsaws and stump grinders. Just waiting for the Krach from the neighbours. The chaps will no doubt be back next week to carry on with levelling and laying membrane and slate chippings. We’re having a few new shrubs too, and plan to continue the box hedge round the periphery. Sutton’s delivery of plug plants, which they had promised to defer till we got back, had arrived while we were away. Good job we had landscapers on site, eh?
Our travelling companions were a delight: a woman d’un certain age, her daughter, the latter’s sweet, docile lurcher and a young IT specialist. The train itself, another manifestation of Grayling Railways, was rather tired, and the catering was not as advertised. Still, we were fed after a fashion, and plied with somewhat indifferent wine at intervals.
We got home to find that the landscapers have been busy. The overgrown and mutilated cherry tree, the grass (such as it was) and the shrubs and weeds behind the conservatory have gone, without our having had to listen to chainsaws and stump grinders. Just waiting for the Krach from the neighbours. The chaps will no doubt be back next week to carry on with levelling and laying membrane and slate chippings. We’re having a few new shrubs too, and plan to continue the box hedge round the periphery. Sutton’s delivery of plug plants, which they had promised to defer till we got back, had arrived while we were away. Good job we had landscapers on site, eh?
Dundee
Off early into a distinctly crisp Edinburgh morning to get our bus down to Waverley for the train to Dundee. We opted for the more direct route, even though that involved a longer walk to the bus stop, so we got to se some different bits of the city. Curious that blocks on Leith Walk have their own names: York Place, Gayfield Place and even a few called streets, and most of them have their own iron and enamel plates on the walls.
Busy trains to and from Broughty Ferry. They use three-car units, and fill them pretty full, with most seats reserved. The original Forth road bridge seems to be closed, save for a lot of builders’ vehicles. I seem to recall reading that the main cables were seriously corroded. The new bridge is a cable stayed bridge with three piers - a sort of miniature Viaduc de Millau, and elegant in proportion. The train hugs the coast of Fife for much of the way to Kirkcaldy and beyond, which makes for a scenic ride in good weather. We had a fair bit of rain unfortunately, but there were a few glimpses of sunshine looking across to the other side of the Forth.
We had a short wait in Dundee for our train to Broughty Ferry, so took the chance to have a look at the Discovery and the new V&A, which opens this coming weekend. A bit more tourism in Broughty Ferry, since we arrived nearly an hour before our lunch date. For the first time in my life, I visited the castle - it was in the hands of the army when I lived there, hence rarely, if ever, accessible by the public. There’s a nice little museum, including a fine model of the train ferry that used to ply between Broughty Ferry and Tayport before (and again after) the days of the first Tay Bridge. (I mentioned to Martyn that, when I was young, old people would comment on the weather, saying ‘there’s no been a wind like yon since the nicht the brig fell’.).
Our lunch with Jackie was great fun, and we were joined by another classmate, Wendy Badenoch, whom I hadn’t seen for fifty years. Much reminiscence!
Back to Edinburgh in the afternoon. Since it was still cold and showery, we opted for more M&S takeaway dishes, a quiet evening at the flat and an early night.
Busy trains to and from Broughty Ferry. They use three-car units, and fill them pretty full, with most seats reserved. The original Forth road bridge seems to be closed, save for a lot of builders’ vehicles. I seem to recall reading that the main cables were seriously corroded. The new bridge is a cable stayed bridge with three piers - a sort of miniature Viaduc de Millau, and elegant in proportion. The train hugs the coast of Fife for much of the way to Kirkcaldy and beyond, which makes for a scenic ride in good weather. We had a fair bit of rain unfortunately, but there were a few glimpses of sunshine looking across to the other side of the Forth.
We had a short wait in Dundee for our train to Broughty Ferry, so took the chance to have a look at the Discovery and the new V&A, which opens this coming weekend. A bit more tourism in Broughty Ferry, since we arrived nearly an hour before our lunch date. For the first time in my life, I visited the castle - it was in the hands of the army when I lived there, hence rarely, if ever, accessible by the public. There’s a nice little museum, including a fine model of the train ferry that used to ply between Broughty Ferry and Tayport before (and again after) the days of the first Tay Bridge. (I mentioned to Martyn that, when I was young, old people would comment on the weather, saying ‘there’s no been a wind like yon since the nicht the brig fell’.).
Our lunch with Jackie was great fun, and we were joined by another classmate, Wendy Badenoch, whom I hadn’t seen for fifty years. Much reminiscence!
Back to Edinburgh in the afternoon. Since it was still cold and showery, we opted for more M&S takeaway dishes, a quiet evening at the flat and an early night.
Wednesday 12 September 2018
Edinburgh
The taxis no longer drive into the station from the Waverley Bridge, and the signage to the new taxi rank was hopeless. We eventually found a hansom that rattled us down to our digs, which are clean and adequate. Our apartment is in a converted and rather grim looking school in red sandstone (I could just about hear echoes of the crack of the belt as we walked in!), and is an imaginative piece of work, with a mezzanine bedroom on top of the kitchen and bathroom in a section of a tall classroom. The stair is narrow and steep, but at the time of writing I haven’t yet broken my neck. Furniture and fittings are spartan, but will do for a few nights.
This morning we got the bus down to Leith to visit HMY Britannia. The visit alone was worth the journey: fascinating! The contrast between the sumptuous Royal apartments and the exiguous crew quarters was striking, of course. Views across to Fife and up the river to the three bridges were spectacular. We stayed aboard for tea and a scone apiece, then took a long, winding bus ride back to the centre to pick up a hop on/hop off tour bus at Waverley Bridge. Good route, good commentary, by and large, and a good way to sample a city neither of us knows well. We lunched in a restaurant just off the Grassmarket - Martyn’s Cullen skink required repeated doses of gaviscon, but my haggis, neeps and tatties were fine, and the main course hake we each had was very good. We hopped back on the bus for the rest of the route down the bit of the Royal Mile we hadn’t driven up, and off into the elegant New Town. We’d decided not to brave the crowds in the castle. After the tour, we walked the length of Princes Street Gardens before catching a bus for a truly serpentine route back to our digs.
Feeling rather tired after our day in town, we opted for a small supper at the flat and an early night. We shall try a different and more direct bus route tomorrow, at the expense of a longer walk to the bus stop.
This morning we got the bus down to Leith to visit HMY Britannia. The visit alone was worth the journey: fascinating! The contrast between the sumptuous Royal apartments and the exiguous crew quarters was striking, of course. Views across to Fife and up the river to the three bridges were spectacular. We stayed aboard for tea and a scone apiece, then took a long, winding bus ride back to the centre to pick up a hop on/hop off tour bus at Waverley Bridge. Good route, good commentary, by and large, and a good way to sample a city neither of us knows well. We lunched in a restaurant just off the Grassmarket - Martyn’s Cullen skink required repeated doses of gaviscon, but my haggis, neeps and tatties were fine, and the main course hake we each had was very good. We hopped back on the bus for the rest of the route down the bit of the Royal Mile we hadn’t driven up, and off into the elegant New Town. We’d decided not to brave the crowds in the castle. After the tour, we walked the length of Princes Street Gardens before catching a bus for a truly serpentine route back to our digs.
Feeling rather tired after our day in town, we opted for a small supper at the flat and an early night. We shall try a different and more direct bus route tomorrow, at the expense of a longer walk to the bus stop.
Tuesday 11 September 2018
Days in barracks, trips out
Not been out and about much lately, other than to the shops and for garden supplies. I’ve been behaving like an utter bloke, feeling sorry for myself with a mere cold. It hung around for a couple of weeks, off and on, forcing me to cancel a day at the hobby. On one of the ‘off’ days, however, we treated ourselves to a familiar jaunt to Eastbourne via Birling Gap and Beachy Head. The day was fine and breezy, and the views from Beachy Head were vast, from Dungeness in the East to Selsey Bill in the West. After lunch we took a short stroll along the front and down the pier. The bedding displays on the prom were very good, using a few subjects I didn’t recognise, along with the more familiar nicotianas, cannas and antirrhinums - and a welcome absence of marigolds!
Lunch at our usual chain chippie was good enough, but service was less impressive, and I fear this was because of a higher British component in the waiter force than last time. There is a ‘wait here to be seated’ sign out on the pavement, and we stood there like lemons while the staff fannied about inside. One elderly gent behind us in the queue was not impressed: ‘It’s not a restaurant, it’s a bleedin’ fish & chip shop!’ We were eventually offered a seat next to the chiottes when I forced the pace, and moved ourselves to a better spot. Still, our plaice and chips were as good as usual.
As I write, we’ve just passed Durham cathedral and the peculiar Angel of the North on our way to a short stay in Edinburgh. Martyn is treating me to the trip as a birthday present, and managed to get a good deal on first class train tickets. The ex-Virgin rolling stock is showing its age. We abandoned our reserved seats because mine wouldn’t fix in the upright position. I found a block of four unreserved in the next carriage, so we moved. And the recline mechanism on one of the seats was bust as well. The train manager’s attitude when I mentioned it was ‘well, a lot of them are broken’. Welcome to Grayling railways, now tendenciously rebranded LNER.
Tuesday 4 September 2018
Where do the days go?
Well, many of them in the company of good friends. We had a delightful relaxed lunch with Celia and Andy at their place, where they are suffering the trials we had here some years ago: a huge building site is being developed just down the road from them, and they have a steady stream of concrete trucks, and the constant drone of a largely ineffective street sweeper. Their garden, though, is looking terrific, and is visited by dozens of colourful birds. We need to review our feeder policy: we see lots of wood pigeons. And that's about it.
Next outing was to the Rayner Bank Holiday bash at Faversham. Filthy weather, as is traditional for said holiday, but good and entertaining company. Martyn had made his legendary lemon drizzle cake (gin-free, despite my goading), and I'd knocked out a batch of naans. And the next weekend it was back over to Norf Kent for Marion's birthday party, hosted in Walderslade by Derry. Small wonder that the Cunard kilos are taking their time to dissipate.
Martyn has been working hard in the garden. To the right of the steps between levels was a bed that had been overgrown by a hypericum and wild strawberries. He has cleared it out, laid a membrane and furnished it with rocks and a few bags of decent soil. He has planted a batch of alpines and one of the box cuttings that I rooted a couple of years ago. Meanwhile, I have taken cuttings of hypericum, cistus pulverulens and five colours of penstemons, so we ought, if we can get them through the winter, to be able to replace some of the leggy parent plants. I dead-headed the rudbeckias yesterday, and found lots of seed in the bucket when I'd finished. I'd already bought some commercial seed for next year, so we can maybe run a comparative test next spring!
Our home facelift continues. We're very happy with the redecoration, and now that we have the new bedroom carpet down and the furniture back in place, we are feeling happier with our surroundings. The last of the Miserable Magnolia has gone, as have the putty coloured wardrobe doors and the porridge coloured carpet. Cream, white and Welsh slate grey look a damn' sight better. I just need to bestir myself to get the paintings back on the walls.
Meanwhile, the cold lingers on. I have now cancelled a sitting at the hobby, and slots at two U3A events, and am getting a bit fed up with it. Still, I have a bit more energy now, so the grass is cut, at least. Without apologies, I repeat the late and much lamented Isla's dictum: it's a bugger, gettin' auld.
Next outing was to the Rayner Bank Holiday bash at Faversham. Filthy weather, as is traditional for said holiday, but good and entertaining company. Martyn had made his legendary lemon drizzle cake (gin-free, despite my goading), and I'd knocked out a batch of naans. And the next weekend it was back over to Norf Kent for Marion's birthday party, hosted in Walderslade by Derry. Small wonder that the Cunard kilos are taking their time to dissipate.
Martyn has been working hard in the garden. To the right of the steps between levels was a bed that had been overgrown by a hypericum and wild strawberries. He has cleared it out, laid a membrane and furnished it with rocks and a few bags of decent soil. He has planted a batch of alpines and one of the box cuttings that I rooted a couple of years ago. Meanwhile, I have taken cuttings of hypericum, cistus pulverulens and five colours of penstemons, so we ought, if we can get them through the winter, to be able to replace some of the leggy parent plants. I dead-headed the rudbeckias yesterday, and found lots of seed in the bucket when I'd finished. I'd already bought some commercial seed for next year, so we can maybe run a comparative test next spring!
Our home facelift continues. We're very happy with the redecoration, and now that we have the new bedroom carpet down and the furniture back in place, we are feeling happier with our surroundings. The last of the Miserable Magnolia has gone, as have the putty coloured wardrobe doors and the porridge coloured carpet. Cream, white and Welsh slate grey look a damn' sight better. I just need to bestir myself to get the paintings back on the walls.
Meanwhile, the cold lingers on. I have now cancelled a sitting at the hobby, and slots at two U3A events, and am getting a bit fed up with it. Still, I have a bit more energy now, so the grass is cut, at least. Without apologies, I repeat the late and much lamented Isla's dictum: it's a bugger, gettin' auld.
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