Too many obits just lately

Anne-Louise, Pat, Claire and Barbara, playing Scrabble as we waited for work

Sad to learn yesterday that Pat Lalvani is no longer with us.  Aged 82, she was admitted to hospital a
few days ago with breathing difficulties, which turned out to be COPD.  With characteristic no-nonsense decisiveness, she asked to be detached from all the tubes and monitors, and put in a normal hospital room, where she died not very long afterwards.  Above is a photo of Pat taken at the UPU bash in Rio de Janeiro in 1979.  We were all waiting for translation and typing work, and had a lively Scrabble tournament in progress. 
The same complaint despatched Doreen a few years ago - another 1974 Lausanne veteran: Barbara, a mere 1979 Rio parvenue, probably died of emphysema, similarly caused.  (Also spricht an ex-smoker, trying not to be sanctimonious.)

I first met Pat in 1974 at the Lausanne Universal Postal Union Congress, and fondly remember the day of the unveiling ceremony for the centenary plaque on the monument just along the road from the Bundeshaus.  We were invited to lunch at her flat in Berne with the other translators and typists.  (Delegates  were invited to a slap-up bash at the Casino, but we other ranks were not, and had a far better time, I expect.)  One of my favourite photos of the day is of myself with Pat's daughter Anuschka and her friend Cathy Sanz sitting on my knees in a Berne tram.  I remember one of them asking me why I wore a purple shirt.  I think I just said I liked it, and wonder why, now that I notice it, I'm wearing one today.

I'm getting a little distressed at the number of obits I've had to blog lately.  Such things come with age, I suppose.  The rest of you, kindly hang in there - or provide me with a draft auto-obit in good time, please.

To return to the usual banalities, we finally have crocuses in flower.   Together with evidence of one's failure to rake up the oak leaves from our neighbours' tree.  I've potted up the remaining primulas and plonked the pots down where we can see them from the dining room.

Today's entertainment, apart from laundry, was a trip to the fang man to have the latest spare part fitted.  The anaesthetic has pretty much worn off now, and I like the new china champer rather better than I did the old gold one, which broke off and took a ride down the grand canal just before we went off for our Christmas Cruise.

The knee is behaving just a little better of late, which is presumably why the back took it upon itself to muscle in on the act and protest at yesterday's shopping.  But when I see the problems that face so many of my clients at the hobby, I start to realise that I should moan less and be more grateful.

Spring, spring, spring!

Well, to be more accurate, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring, spring.  Oh, and Spring.

The repair to the for'ard rail of the chair seemed to have set solid after an overnight rest, so yesterday morning we set about the task of fitting the new springs to it.  Nine of the brutes, as you'll have gathered from the above.  Before that could be done, the upholstery had to be released from the rail and the bottoms of the arms.  There was no way I could stretch the springs into place and secure them with the nails single-handed, so Martyn willingly allowed himself to be pressed into service with the tack hammer - which he bought me some years ago, together with the mallet, Jack the Ripper (ripping chisel) and much else.  Well, much sweat and vile language later, the chair is now re-sprung, and the finishings re-applied to the rail.  It is better nor it was, but I'm still going to need a new cushion.  Maybe I'll just go and see my upholstery gurus in Sevenoaks and get them to do it.  Or I could order up a few miles of cotton felt and re-do it, myself.....oh come on, man: spend some money!  I've pretty much come to the conclusion that upholstery is no longer part of my repertoire, except perhaps for re-covering small pieces.  My hands are hurting like hell.

Hellish too was Sainsbury's this morning.  I opted for the self checkout thingy, which didn't like my bags, and needed a further human intervention to approve my vinous purchases.  Lengthy waits each time.  Getting out of the car park was even more fun.  I suppose I ought to know better than to go shopping on a Sunday, which now seems to be the nation's favourite food shopping day.  Why?  Perhaps working people are forced to do Saturday overtime in order to pay the rent/mortgage.  I'm glad I'm old, by and large, and blessed with a decent pension - and just need to do a bit of work on scheduling the shopping trips.

There are signs of Spring here and there, notably buds on deciduous subjects, and a bit of white showing on the snowdrops - a gift from Celia, some of which I've shared with the Coopers in Mèze, where I gather they're also coming through. I really look forward to some flowers in the garden at this time of year, but I expect I'll be grizzling about untidy bulb foliage ere long.

Seemed like a good idea at the time, Chapter n+3

When I moved into my first house in 1980, Uncle Charles flogged me a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and an armchair.  The wardrobe and chest have found new homes, but since the armchair was my first upholstery project, I'm in no hurry to part with it.  It has suffered my vast weight for over 30 years, so it's hardly surprising that the springs (already a good 30 years old when they came into my ownership) have sagged a bit.  Full of misplaced confidence, I bought a new set, for rather more than Charles charged me for the chair.  At this point the sports commence.  Releasing the springs from the rail at the back of the chair provoked language that sent Management scurrying for sanctuary upstairs.  Well, the rail is screwed and glued back in place, with the new springs attached.  Turning to the for'ard rail, I had to release the upholstery before I could lever out the retaining nails.  This done (more vile language later) it transpired that the for'ard rail had split quite badly, thanks, doubtless, to said vast weight.  So, the current status is that that the chair is in the sitooterie, much glue injected into split beech and G-clamps applied.  Progress tomorrow perhaps.  Is there ever a DIY job that doesn't lead to numerous snags?

Until the weather turned wet and squally, it was just about OK to work outside, so I've replanted the basket that hangs on the wall by the front door.  On the way home from art class yesterday, I called in at the nearby Fortnums' and found that they were flogging little primulas at £5 for two trays of ten plants.  Healthy little chaps, if a touch pot-bound, so we'll wait and see how they do.  More await out in the cold frames, but they can stay there till the storm passes.

One's first cash sale, in aid of Bridges, Edenbridge

After yesterday's art class, I came home with rather more canvases than I'd hoped following our little show in Edenbridge - but then, only three out of seven were up for sale.  Still, one little piece sold, and today I've made space for the ones I'd put in NFS, and reorganised the pictures in the sitooterie.  Perhaps I ought to pay the vast fee for this year's open studios thing, and get shot of a few paintings.  There's too much of my stuff on the walls.

Rites of January

Pleasant ride along to Edenbridge on Friday.  At Thursday's art class Miss said that she needed more paintings to pack out our little exhibition at Bridges.  There was a tall thin space alongside my Madeira and Seven Sisters seascapes, so I smacked some D-rings on my Madeira triptych and wheeled it along.  We were treated to fine views of the frosty countryside, and as usual we made a circular route of it: out via Ashurst and Hever, home via Four Elms, Bough Beech and Penshurst.  Eye-wateringly cold, however, as it has been for quite a few days now.  Still, the sunshine is very good for the spirits.

Although I've had the car for three months now, I'm still learning its little ways.  The transmission behaves like the freewheel on certain old Rovers and Saabs when you select the 'Eco' mode.  When you lift off the throttle, the revs drop to about 800 and it coasts, ticking over, I believe, on two cylinders.  As soon as you touch a pedal again, the motor reengages, making it safer than a freewheel proper.  The motor cuts out when you come to a halt, which is usually OK, but is not welcome when one's waiting to turn right across the traffic.  Consequently, one needs to think ahead and start up in good time to avoid a rather jerky take-off.  The car is much better at parking itself than its predecessor, and adds perpendicular parking to its bag of tricks.  I'm starting to see slightly better fuel consumption figures as I learn and the motor loosens.  But I am pretty much resigned to never getting the hang of the 'infotainment' kit, and I cannot master the choreography to get it to open or close the tailgate when I have my hands full of shopping!

Last night was the Mayor's annual charity quiz.  Very well attended as usual, with 47 teams of 8 competing.  Martyn did well at the pictures round, and we weren't too bad at our joker, Science and Nature.  It helped that I'd spent a while during the afternoon looking at science quizzes on the internet, thus discovering the source of many of the questions....  The final round was set by the the self-styled 'Mayor Dave', and was about the man himself, his career in local politics etc.  This gave a huge advantage to his cronies, which was inappropriate.  The supper included in the ticket price was really rather poor - industrial mini scotch eggs, pork pies and suchlike.  These jaundiced remarks are of course in no way influenced by our finishing close the the bottom of the field.  Still, the Assembly Hall's Sauvignon Blanc was immeasurably better than Cunard's, and healthily under half the price!

Fortunately, the snow came and went fairly quickly, but a partial thaw followed by hard frost made for very tricky driving - we suspect - and for noisy early mornings as hardy commuters crunched past on the frozen slush.  The garden is pretty much frosted in, with ice on the pond for the past week or so.  There is a little bit of colour from some primulas and of course from the bright red bark of the cornus, and the buds are fattening on the magnolia and rhododendrons.  The woodpeckers have started drumming nearby, and the robins are haranguing each other.  So I guess spring isn't too far off.

Tania Foley RIP

Tania, as Jane Birch in Kate Glover's Fire & Phoenix

Though Tania Foley and I met but once, we had swapped messages on facebook about stuff for the Historia website.  In addition to her likeability as a correspondent, she was also an accomplished actor, and we greatly enjoyed her performances in a number of rôles in Fire & Phoenix at All Hallows by the Tower. 

That she should have died in her thirties of complications of pneumonia and blood clots in her lungs seems such a waste, particularly in the light of her having been shooed away from hospital, told that she'd pulled a muscle in her chest. A prolific facebook poster (I admit I had stopped following her onslaught of posts!), she was posting optimistic, sparky messages to the last.

She is a great loss to the performing arts, and to us all.

Marmalade time

Phew: it set!

I'm never too good at guessing when the Seville oranges will arrive.  Fifteen years ago, I had it all made (though with a last-minute panic reboil to get the last batch to setting point!) before I left to spend Christmas in Australia.  Not sure when I did it last year, but I nearly missed the boat this time.  Par conséquent, I spent longer than is comfortable this morning in supermarkets, ultimately finding supplies in the place run by a firm that used to pride itself in never knowingly being undersold.  Well, I suppose that's technically true today, since no other bugger had any.  Oh, well: toffs is careless.  But I did make yet another supermarket visit to get the sugar more cheaply from Fortnums.  Mistake: the queue at the till took best part of a quarter of an hour.

The arthritic hands being as they are, I use a food processor to slice the fruit - once through the medium disk and once through the fine.  It was therefore not a comfort to have the magimix bowl give up the ghost when I was preparing a leek and spud blanquette last week.  Well, the replacement bowl arrived this morning while I was scouring the Home Counties for Seville oranges, so I'm all set for an early start tomorrow.  Except for the small matter of getting the preserving pan down from the garage loft.

Our other entertainment at the moment is interviewing tarmac fettlers.  Our driveway shows all the signs of having been made in a hurry by Wimpey 36 years ago, with quite a bit of settlement and cracking.  A drain top now stands proud, and we're afraid that visitors will trip on it.  The first punter came in with an eye-watering estimate for what sounds like a thorough job.  Yesterday's proposed a quick and dirty approach, and we await his estimate.  Thoroughly confused, we've sent for two more, and hope to have decided by this time next week.  Ah, the joys of home ownership.

Here comes another one

The early hours of New Year's Day were mercifully fog free and mild for our return after an enjoyable evening with the Gillingham tendency.  But I didn't hang around outdoors to watch the fireworks, since the wind was a bit sharp.  We were just about washed and dressed by midday, and proceeded to have a thoroughly idle day, if only so as to set the pattern for the year to come! 

Next day we'd to collect Annie from Heathrow on her return from a short stay in Madrid with her brother and sister-in-law.  Once again, the M25 was relatively user-friendly, as on our drive to Southampton.  Definitely a road to be used at weekends or public holidays.  Annie [with help from a Christmas present voucher from Marion and John] took us to lunch next day in Tenterden.  A pleasant drive in fine weather, and a decent snack lunch at the good old Café Rouge.  I'd never had a croque-champignons before, and shall be replicating the same next time I have some béchamel left over! 

The cards are down and boxed for recycling, the Christmas tree and decorations are bagged up and put away, and we're hunkering down for the worst months of the year.  There has been hard frost and freezing fog, but we haven't had to venture out on the worst days, though it was very frosty when I got home on Thursday after a long day at the hobby.  Yesterday's dreich weather had one small compensation: there were fewer than usual people at Fortnums' when we went to stock up on essentials.  But many of those who were out and about had no idea how to use their lights in fog.  Many had no lights on at all.  Others kept their rear fog lamps on even when the fog had cleared, though I guess this is less of a problem now that most cars have high-level brake lights.  [I switched on the rear fog lights yesterday when the fog thickened at one point, only to be instructed by the car to switch them off again!  I elected to use my judgement...]

Today has been mild, so I have done a modicum of gardening.  The roses that we look out on from the dining room had been looking very straggly, so have had an interim prune.  There were already sporting new buds, but from weak shoots.  The Bramley has had an overdue prune: a bough that had been overhanging the garden is now heading for the municipal compost heap, as is a smaller branch that had been rubbing on the fence.  I gave up at that point, since I had slipped a few times on the lichen that afflicts cold surfaces at this time of year.  Bit of a pain, this getting old stuff.