Winter: please define

This time a year ago we were dealing with the snow brought by the Beast from the East.  For the last three days we have had lunch out on the terrace, the grass has had its first February cut ever and I’ve been drying the laundry outside on the line.  It’s set to revert now to something more like a February/March pattern, but it has been lovely while it lasted.  I have sown lots of flower seed today: dwarf antirrhinums, marigolds, cosmos, penstemons and rudbeckia.  Mr Sutton’s seed packets are a bit of a mix: I got the merest pinch of rudbeckia seeds, and something like 2400 antirrhinums.  The rudbeckia ratio is surprising, given that I harvested millions of them last back end.  We’ll see how the bought and harvested batches compare.

Mental gymnastics

Slightly startling experience the other morning.  The postman had to ring the bell to deliver a parcel, and addressed me in German.  The other item, in its clear plastic wrapper, was a German language magazine I subscribe to.  The rest of our vestigial conversation continued in that language.  I suspect that he, like our usual postie, is Polish, so I’ll try Polish next time he rings (my Polish just about runs to ‘good morning’.)

Art club was quite good on Thursday: Martyn and I each finished a couple of pieces for our current topic, Heritage.  Martyn has done a picture of a narrow boat navigating a canal, and I’ve done a little view of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the upper Douro valley at Pinhão.  I’ve made a start on a piece on another UNESCO site, the Canal du Midi at Le Somail, and I think it’s going better than the last attempt on the subject.  I’m setting myself modest targets, using up the last of a batch of little 8x6 canvases that I got for our show last year, so spend only a couple of hours on each.

We joined some of my co-hobbyists last night at the Mayor’s quiz at a school over at the county town.  Most of us are knocking on retirement, but we had a younger clerk on the team, and she was definitely our secret weapon and saving grace: we came joint fourth out of 40.  Anyway, it was a cheerful evening as always (though the questions were for the most part a bit easier than we’re used to closer to home).

I consulted Via Michelin before we set out, and Monsieur Bibendum recommended a rather tortuous route on narrow  roads.  This was not altogether welcome in misty conditions, so we opted for a slightly less direct but simpler route home afterwards.  Whatever, we made it unscathed, but I have to say that my appetite for driving, particularly after dark, is fading.

Cautious optimism

The worst of the winter may be yet to come, but there are enough signs of spring to make some impression on my normally gloomy February outlook on the world.  (It would be nice if one could say the same for politics, but that's not my department.)

We have had a few nights of bitter cold, including the last couple of Wednesdays, which means that we have had to head out early on Thursdays to get the heating on in our art club venue.  Still, it is a huge comfort to see the days stretching out a little, and on sunny days it's been possible to do a little gardening and other outdoor pottering, so a few of the roses are fettled for the start of the season, and I've established where I need to get some sealant into the dripping gutters when we get some dry days (though I have to say that I'm unenthusiastic about ladders these days).

The biggest bonus of sunny days is the chance to have lunch in the sitooterie.  By midday, the temperature has usually crept up to a balmy 22° under the glass, and it is such a pleasure to enjoy the sunlight.  Today we've been watching buzzards soaring over the nearby woods - as well as the steady stream of traffic into Gatwick and a few transatlantic services overflying at altitude.

Just below the conservatory windows the yellow crocuses and snowdrops are in flower, and there are timid signs of colour on the polyanthus in the tubs on the steps.  Out at the front, it's time I put the geraniums out of their misery.  I've brought the basket round to the cold frame to see if there's a prospect of cuttings, but there I'm less optimistic.

Bring spring

I loathe and detest this time of year, thus justifying tautology to myself at least.  Still, there are some signs of spring: the snowdrops are coming into flower, and other bulbs are starting to show signs of life.  While we wait for the buds on the cornus to emerge, we can at least enjoy the bright red bark, a rare streak or two of colour in the February garden, particularly when the sun shines on it.  A trip along to Hartfield for a lime green one soon, I think.

The snow has at least gone for the moment, but I was glad of four wheel drive on my trip to the hobby last week.  To be honest, it was only really useful for getting out of our street and into and out of that of the colleague I'd offered to pick up, since we used the main roads rather than my usual country lanes.  I was able to use my usual route again yesterday, finding it flooded, as usual after the thaw.  Nothing too dramatic: maybe a tyre's depth.  But on the way home, some arse in an Astra came through the largest puddle from the opposite direction at enough of a lick to raise a wave of mud that went all over my car, leaving me blinded until the wipers caught up.  I'm rather hoping it was a petrol car, and that the electrics were drowned.  I know: my generosity of spirit knows no bounds.

After art club today, Martyn took the car along for a wash - fortunately the complimentary one after the requisite number of stamps on the loyalty card.  I was having my eyes examined meanwhile: the annual inspection.  Evidently, though pressures remain on the high side, the nerves look healthy, and the pressure readings haven't changed significantly over the years since I was first referred to the clinic, so the optometrist has discharged me, and just told me to have a normal sight test and examination once a year. 

As for the art efforts, Martyn did another nice floral piece, in the foreground, rather more formal than  last week's.  I knocked out a quick canvas of the ruins of Whitby Abbey.  It was rather harder work than last week's little Swiss landscape, but it does nod in the direction of our current project theme, Heritage.  The ever creative Joan brought some delicious shortbread biscuits, so ars gratia artis shows itself in many forms.  We'll perhaps invite Miss to come and preside over a project crit some time next month - and hope that Joan will have been baking again!.

On-line v. High Street

Given our post-cruise ailments, we haven’t exactly been springing around.  Longish day at the hobby on Tuesday, but I think we did a good enough job.  One rather vociferous customer remarked that he could earn as much us us.  (Unfortunately, he does.)

It being marmalade time, I got the necessary supplies the other morning, only then remembering that the orange squeezers - Magimix accessories and an ancient Philips job - were about as capable of the job as my arthritic mitts.  Since we had a one4all gift card, I checked what it was worth.  We’d been sitting on it for a while, and its value had been almost entirely eroded by the ‘monthly charges’ that they so cynically impose after 18 months, so it went in the bin.  We found another, still valid, so I ordered a new orange squeezer from Argos, who promised delivery next day to our local Sainsbury’s.  Next came an email saying ‘Hurrah: it’s arrived!’  Armed with the code supplied, I motored down to Sainsbury’s, only to be told by a clerk with all too visible chewing gum that it was out of stock.  Snarl.  Well, we hacked over next day to our neighbouring market town, where Robert Dyas had the same item at 15% less, though the wasted diesel costs and parking charges offset the saving.  If Argos eventually deigns to offer us one, they may put it where the monkey put the nuts.

Modest gardening on Wednesday, since the composting bin was to be emptied next day.  A bit of dead-heading, and, Martyn having spotted some grass growing out of the slate chips out the front, I did some weeding.  The bits of grass looked like they were seed-sown, rather than growing up through the membrane, but we’ll obviously have to keep an eye on it.

First art group gathering of the year today, and I fiddled a bit with a piece I began in December.  It involves boats, which are difficult to draw, so it was slow going.  I think it's almost there, but it needs a few more touches to bring it to life.  Martyn practised some watercolour techniques, including a perfect dry flat wash, which no-one had taught him to do before.

I refrain from comment on recent political utterances.  But just you wait until I’m released from the hobby-imposed reticence, 18 months and 10 days hence.

Christmas cruise postcards and snapshots

 

Jardim Botanico, Funchal

Mount Teide, Tenerife

Roques Garcia, Teide National Park

Praia de las Canteras, Las Palmas

Ajuy cliffs and caves, Fuerteventura

Leaving Lisbon for Southapton

Cristo Rei and Bridge

Home for New Year

Christmas Day

Peaceful day on a calm sea.  We had exchanged presents a few days earlier when I realised I hadn’t packed any cuff links...  Each of us had got the other a pair.   Martyn has got me a fine pair of binoculars, so we’re looking forward to our next U3A bird watching day.  I got him a set of brushes for watercolours and acrylics.  I’d brought some art kit with me, but we somehow didn’t feel moved to paint this time. 

Dinner was disappointing: as a main course we’d chosen a dish of grilled turbot with lobster and langoustine with a bouillabaisse sauce.  The presentation was awful: it looked like a school dinner stew.  The sauce completely swamped the subtle flavours of the fish.  Head waiter advised.

Boxing Day

Back to wonderful Lisbon.  As always a good experience despite, this time, some frustrations early on.  We were out on the balcony, dressed, as we sailed under the Salazar/25 April bridge this morning as the wind howled through its cables and girders, and the traffic played tunes on the metal mesh roadway.  Wouldn’t want to live close to that!

We got the shuttle bus to the Restauradores: it stopped conveniently opposite the tourist office, where we were to collect our pre-paid Lisbon transport and museum cards.  They work a numbered ticket queuing system, and when we finally reached a counter, 45 minutes after we arrived, it still took the boy 10 minutes to find and issue the tickets.  Next, we went to Starbucks in the Rossio station, where we queued to order our drinks (mainly to qualify for an entry code to their filthy chiottes), and then queued to get them.  It didn’t help our tempers when I got us lost on the way to the Estufa Fria which, it being December, was not on the top of its form.  It is a wonderfully peaceful place nevertheless.

From there I took Martyn for a proper Lisbon experience: a grilled chicken restaurant in the Largo do Rato.  There used to be a place there where they grilled chickens at the front window, but that seems to have gone.  Large portion of delicious chicken per man, served with rice, chips and salad, two glasses of wine and a mineral water: 14€70.  By the time we were getting stuck into our lunch, local people were queuing for tables, so that must be a recommendation.  From there we took an ancient tram to the Chiado, and then another up to Graça, where we stayed a few years ago.  I love the tram rides on the winding streets of the Alfama.  (I was nevertheless conscious of the fact that one of them tipped over the other day causing not a few injuries.)

From Graça we got a bus (slightly less terrifying than last time) down to Santa Apollónia station, which is a hop and a skip from the cruise terminal.  Back on board in time for a cup of tea and a snooze before the afternoon quiz (which we lost).  Our mobile phones - and knees - tell us that we walked over 10000 paces during the day.

We were out on the balcony as we sailed, and stayed out until we were past the bridge. Some lovely sunset views towards the bridge and the Cristo Rei statue.

Supper was again curate’s egg: Martyn’s mozzarella, rocket and vine tomato salad was short on mozzarella and long on anaemic glasshouse tomatoes.  My beef was suitably rare, but rather tough.  Martyn’s lamb was just right.  After supper we teamed up again with Carolyn and David for the wipeout quiz, and won it again.

29 December

We were in the car by 09:25, and home by midday, having shopped en route.  The journey was pretty smooth: the A3/M25 route is the least worst of the options.  

The last couple of days at sea were smooth and uneventful, and we were treated a couple of times to sightings of pods of dolphins.  We did various quizzes, including a ‘name that melody’ game: which my team won, narrowly beating Martyn’s.  (I even got one answer that the rest of my team didn’t!  Miraculous, given my zero knowledge of popular music.)  Martyn played a few ends of bowls one afternoon with one of our quiz friends, discovering that he has lost none of his skill.

Taking stock of our trip, we have mixed feelings.  After twelve nights on board, we are glad to be home and on our own again.  We met some delightful people as usual, notably Pam and David, whom we’d met on a similar cruise two years ago, and a lively bunch of people we met in quizzes.  We got a bit fed up, however, with people moaning about anything and everything, and particularly with people who were rude to the staff.  So we’ve had enough of communal life for a while.  

In the main, Cunard’s service is exemplary, and they sorted out the problem we had with our cabin with polite professionalism.  The ship is luxurious and refined, and except for the unusually rough conditions on the way south, one is scarcely aware of movement or mechanical sound.  There is a point just aft of midships where you hear the sound of the exhaust stack running up through the superstructure, but the only time we were aware of mechanical noise in any of our three cabins was from the bow thrusters while the ship was leaving or arriving at a berth.  In our final cabin, forward of the bridge, we only heard the occasional slap of waves under the bows: it would have been a very different story had the sea been as rough as on the way south!

Having spent 12 days in an enclosed space with 3000 other people, it’s perhaps not surprising that I’ve started yet another cold.  As my colds go, however, it seems to be a mild one, and I just hope I haven’t passed it on to Martyn.  But we have cried off our usual Hogmanay invitation, not wishing to pass it on to a frail elderly friend.

30 December 

Latish start for us both today, and we aren’t missing a lot: it is grey and misty.  We broke the back of the laundry yesterday, so have been able to take it easy today.  I spent 20 minutes or so in the garden, however, chopping down the rudbeckias and doing an interim prune of the roses nearest the dining room doors.  I took a quick look yesterday at the cold frames, where the penstemon and other cuttings seem to be doing well.  Of course, we have had few frosts so far, so we’re cautiously optimistic at most.  The donor penstemon plants are still flowering timidly, as are the daphnes.  One of last year’s primulas is flowering, and the little sarcococca plants at the front door are coming into flower.

1 January 2019

Within 36 hours of leaving the ship, Martyn developed symptoms of a gut bug, and took to bed where he remains as I write, though I think he’s slowly getting over it.  Some joker was letting off fireworks yesterday mid-evening, and there were sounds of partygoers in the street when I went to bed.  Whether there were fireworks or festivities at midnight I couldn’t tell you.