The joys of motoring - and unexpected turns of events

We have been spending a bit of time lately shuttling between home and Benenden hospital, so are getting to know the road pretty well, potholes and all.  I was more than ready to yield the driving seat to Martyn.  The route passes through Goudhurst, where there’s a tight double bend in front of the church.  There are plenty of signs as you approach the village, warning drivers of heavy goods vehicles to avoid it.  There were three of the brutes ahead of us as we drove up the hill, and of course traffic was at a standstill.  Fortunately, we were able to divert, adding just a few miles to the journey.

A little further on, I noticed a movement ahead of us, and yelled ‘stop!’.   A hefty bough of a tree had fallen across the road just ahead of us.  A truck we’d been following had clipped it with its nearside mirror, I think: we saw said truck in a lay-by further on, and the driver was busy looking at the damage.  The bough was dead and pretty rotten, but would have buggered up our front end had we not spotted it, or worse still, landed on us.  Anyway, we and a number of other drivers soon got the road clear, and we were still in good time for the appointment.  Just goes to show that it pays to build in a bit of extra time just in case…

Martyn having had to fast before today’s business we repaired to the café for tea and a bite, expecting to amble home and cool off for the rest of the day, and then to collect Sandra from hospital tomorrow after a procedure, whereupon Martyn would stay over there and keep an eye on her.  Message from Sandra: acute back pain, cancelling hospital visit.  Lights flashing, bells clanging, we hied ourselves straight from Benenden to Rochester, and let ourselves in with the hidden door key.  Cutting a long story short, Sandra is now just mobile with a ‘rollator’ she had ordered, and which we assembled for her.  Zipped back home for Martyn to pack a bag, and for me to pack some of the frozen meals I’d prepared.  So I’m here, he’s there, and we’re preparing for a few days of domestic disruption.  Nothing in the diary for a few days.  Just as well, eh?

We have driven further in the last few days than we do in a month: must remember to stick the car on charge tonight!  Maybe when it cools down a bit.  High thirties here today, so I’m sitting in the shade next to the cooling fan, dressed in a thoroughly un-fetching cotton djellaba, and wondering whether to dispense with the boxers.  A couple of pairs of shorts have been delivered today, so that should be enough to bring an end to the heatwave.

Flaming June

The weather has done everything except snow this month.  Strong winds, torrential rain, hail, thunderstorms and now, very sunny, hot and humid.  Before I opened the doors yesterday, the temperature in the sitooterie was 59. Nevertheless, we’ve had quite a busy month: lunch with sister Sandra and another with former neighbours, and a trip to the coast to meet a visiting friend from Switzerland.  The garden becomes rather demanding at this time of year: grass cutting, dead-heading, potting up tomatoes and of course more weeding than I can cope with. 

Though it was sad that we had to cancel our Mediterranean cruise, at least the insurance has now coughed up - and the renewal premium is a bit less inflated than we expected.  

The world of politics is pretty mixed up at the moment.  Sir K Starmer’s tenure has been fragile for some time, particularly since the drubbing his party took from the far right in May’s local elections.  And yet the same far right didn’t get close to Mr Burnham last week.  (It’s a great shame that he lost to Jeremy Corbyn in the leadership contest some years ago.)  At local level, the Lib Dems have strengthened their position, which is the best we can hope for hereabouts: their track record is strong.  

Stark contrasts on the other side of the pond.  Canada has the smartest and most credible Prime Minister I can remember.  Mexico is pretty well served too.  The bit in the middle is rudderless, and at the mercy of a malignant, self-serving head of state, bankrupting itself on an unnecessary war and countless vanity projects - as well as wrecking the world economy.  At a societal level, the deprivation of the poorest, particularly in the context of health care, seems like deliberate cruelty heavily tinged with xenophobia and racism.  Meanwhile, fiscal policy seems designed to make the obscenely rich even richer.  In constitutional terms, valuable institutions are being starved of resources, and the ‘justice’ department seems to exist mainly to bully and harm those who dare to criticise the regime.  In a way, it’s tempting to say qu’ils se débrouillent, but that ignores (a) the interests of millions of decent, responsible Americans, and (b) the fact that if America sneezes, the rest of the world catches pneumonia.

Back in the garden, the roses are doing really well this year, and are repaying the pretty ruthless pruning and Ben’s administration of large volumes of muck.  After last year’s glut of apples, we shall have next to none this year.  Par contre, the blueberry has a lot of fruit coming along.  My sowings of parsley, rocket and spinach have been very successful if you happen to be a slug or snail.  I shall have one more try, using slug pellets, and just try to live with the guilt.

The English summer

The cliché is that it consists of two fine days and a thunderstorm.  It came early this year, but with a week or so of 30°+ temperatures at the end of May, unrelieved by storms.  The heat has really kicked the roses into action, and shortened the flowering season of the rhododendrons.  Now that we’re officially in summer, we have had a day of torrential thunder showers, and the garden is doing its best to soak it up.  With luck I should get some dry hours to get the roses dead-headed.  

The tomatoes have germinated well, and are pricked out into pots in the sitooterie.  Andy has offered us some peppers and aubergines, so we’ll see how they do in the raised bed.  I’m not sure whether the parsley has survived the attentions of the slugs and snails, but the rocket is doing reasonably well.  I might have another try at sowing spinach.  And parsley…

The wildlife, meanwhile, seems to be thriving.  We have a lot of traffic at the feeders: we’re seeing lots of blue tits, adult and juv, and for the first time we’ve had lots of jackdaws as well, and a woodpecker or two.  The wildlife camera picks up lots of visits from badgers and foxes most nights.

Quite a bit of u3a activity of late.  Our German gang had a good natter based on reports of the Ebola outbreak, and as usual left feeling thoroughly depressed!  We tend to finish our sessions with a good moan about life, the universe and everything.  We’re off to the computer group tomorrow (it clashed with a planned walk on the Commons, but the forecast is not great).  Then on Thursday I’m playing scrabble with a nice group of new friends.  I’m tempted to have a crack at Mah Jong, which I haven’t played for sixty years.  Unfortunately, the cribbage group seems to have withered away: I used to play it at home with the parents, and enjoyed it, but I guess it’s a game that no longer appeals in this day and age.

Anyone remember honesty?

I spend a bit of time playing word games on line.  I’m struck by the number of adverts for miracle cures for everything from peripheral neuropathy, toenail fungus, obesity, erectile dysfunction and skin complaints.  One that cropped up yesterday was for a patch that would give you an instant golden tan.  I just cleared the 56 spam messages from my inbox, telling me of missed deliveries, gambling wins, bounced payments, and of course miraculous penile enhancement.  Most times the phone rings it’s ’Bank security department’ or someone offering me a job interview.  There have been lots of AI announcements purportedly from Martin Lewis, Richard Branson and even Keir Starmer offering get-rich-quick schemes.  More sinister altogether is an advert, purportedly from the BBC, promoting lies from Farage.  The miracle weight loss patches are typically branded as Boots or Superdrug, inter alia.

I suppose we have the world of politics to blame for the extinction of honesty and integrity.  Right back from 1960s political philosophy classes, I still struggle with the question ‘why do we value democracy?’   Discuss.

Silver linings

The issue that led to our cancelling our cruise turned out to be less serious than we thought.  Remains to be seen whether the insurance will pay up.  [Later: it did: phew!] 

The other good news is that we get to see the garden at its best.  The roses are coming into flower, the rhododendrons are looking great, and sowings of sweet peas and nasturtiums have germinated.  So too have the tomatoes, though we sowed too late to expect much of a crop.  Our little rosemary hedge is looking good: Ben clipped it down a bit last week to encourage it to keep bushing out.  The cornus and willow are sprouting well after Ben’s and my efforts to hack down last year’s growth, so we should have plenty of colour next winter.  The roses have responded remarkably well to a top dressing of muck, and even without that, Queen Elizabeth has nearly grown past the top of the kitchen window: astonishing, since it is growing in next to nothing in a tiny bed on the terrace.

We’re using our unexpected free time to catch up with friends: tea with a local friend tomorrow, and I’m meeting ex-beak colleagues in a week or so’s time.  It’s a shame we’ve missed a chance to get together with the friends from Wakefield we met on another cruise years ago, but plan a trip to Yorkshire in the summer, and will hope to catch up then.

The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley

 For reasons I’ll maybe come back to in due course, we have cancelled our stay in the floating care home.  We’re sad not to be getting together again with our friends from Wakefield: maybe another time.  

Well, I guess we’ll get to enjoy the garden, which is at its best in May and June.  Nasturtiums and sweet peas are germinating, as is the rocket, and I shall sow some tomatoes in the hope of a late crop.  Too late for first early spuds, though, so we’ll have to rely on Fortnums.

Spring at last

The recent warm weather - and Ben’s administration of three cubic meters of muck - have kicked the garden into action.  The climber Arthur Bell is flowering vigorously, Blue for You will be next, and Geoff Hamilton, aka Edna, in whose memory we planted it, is beginning to show colour.  More recently planted, Diamond Days Forever (Michael), Ingrid Bergman (Rowena) and Phab Gold (Tim).  Round the side, the viburnum is looking terrific, and Compassion (Margaret) is doing well.  Hope this doesn’t sound too morbid: I like to think of people we miss through beautiful things that I can look after, rather than with cut flowers that go in the compost after two day.  Must look out for something to remember Mary by: it’ll have to be strong and in yer face!

Sweet peas seem to be germinating, as is rocket.  Parsley and nasturtium are taking their time.  We shall have fewer apples this year - probably just as well, since we’re still slowly working our way through last year’s bumper crop.  We haven’t started spuds or tomatoes this year, since we shall be away when they’re in most need of attention.  I’ll do a late sowing of tomatoes, and hope for the best.

We’re looking forward to a lazy couple of weeks in the floating care home, though we’re a bit anxious about the fact that our cabin is just above the galley!  But we’re looking forward to seeing new places, and even more to seeing old friends we met years ago on another Mediterranean cruise.  Watch this space!