Paints and plants

Rudbeckia, acrylic resist and Indian ink

We inflicted our regular canelloni on Mr & Mrs Engineer Smith last Tuesday, having not seen them for quite a while.  No reports of ill effects.  They went away with their Christmas present (left), having given us an extremely generous theatre voucher.  Martyn tells me it can be used at the Theatre Royal in Brighton, so we might use it for the Rambert show in a fortnight or so.  (Mainly because Yshani is playing, and I've promised her a jar of marmalade...)

make me an offer...

On Thursday we took a ride along to Edenbridge to see the little exhibition that Miss has organised.  We're evidently exhibiting as the Pinnacles Art Group, that being the name of the now mercifully demolished pub near where we meet on Thursday mornings.  I'd only planned to put in the two big pieces, since they are part of the growing corpus of paintings I can gladly live without.  I'd sent off a sunrise and a sunset for framing, and Miss had thought I wanted them included in the show.  Neither is for sale, though the big ones are.  The group turns out some fine stuff, and we have bought two lovely watercolours by the very talented Irene Swain. 

Irene and two fine floral watercolours

She says she's principally a potter, but she sure can paint, and these two will grace Forges-l'Evêque when the show closes.  (Get along to see it if you can: it's at Bridges, a drop-in centre run by volunteers in an old Ebenezer Church building in Edenbridge High Street.  Should be on for a few weeks longer.)  Thence to Chrissie's for a stand-up buffet lunch, to which we contributed a faintly indecent looking panettone.

Amusing interlude today: around midday the doorbell rang.  A neighbour from six houses up the street needs a couple of new windows, and, having seen our contractors' van, came to ask what we thought of their work.  Avis favorable from us, but we're not sure what she thought.  We certainly didn't spare her our thoughts on JokersЯus Home Improvements....  Nice to meet another neighbour in a street where we don't really drop in on each other.  Seems a bit foreign to me, but there you are.

The garden is starting to get cracking.  I've pruned the red-barked dogwoods and the roses that I can reach at this point without sinking into the ooze.  The spuds are chitting nicely in the sitooterie, so should be marching on in their growing bags by the time we head south for a quick break in late April.  Daffodils are starting to go over, but the miniature ones are up now, the narcissi are doing well and some purple and white crocuses are joining their yellow brothers. 

Out and about, mainly on wheels

Rather a lot of miles devoted to the hobby this week: a training course in the county town on Thursday, then a regular day at my home court.  The training was good, and well delivered by two of our favourite clerks, and the weather was fine for the journeys to and from.  Friday was a serious waste of time.  Defendant 1 failed to turn up, so much time spent drinking tea and swapping stories in the back shop, and a leisurely shopping interlude at the excellent new Fortnums' nearby.  The afternoon defendant similarly didn't attend.  So home in time for the end of Countdown ...

Other than that, a pretty quiet week, really.  I had a session with the NHS physio, who has prescribed another battery of exercises, including torture of the ilio-tibial band with a foam roller.  Another of her exercises left me with a sore back for a couple of days, so I've dropped that one: I'll tell her next time I see her, and she'll doubtless advise something even worse.  Still if it all gets me walking more easily, a spot of discomfort's a small price to pay.

Dull, damp weather yesterday for our triangular tour home-Gatwick-Islington-home.  The traffic in London was hellish, but we got the under-the-weather Kate and John home safely, and we survived the perils of the Old Kent Road as we returned home.  Interesting to drive through once-familiar parts of London: from the Angel, we came down St John Street to Smithfield, then down Aldersgate Street, St Martin's Le Grand and Cheapside.  I'd hardly recognise the St Paul's end of Cheapside, which I used to walk every day on my way to work.  That part of the journey was easy: we then crawled most of the way from the Bank of England to Eltham.  If I lived in London, I don't think I'd bother with a car.

Cool, damp day for today's local half-marathon.  I hobbled along to the junction where I marshalled last year: the local rotarians were doing it this year.  Last year it was Citizens' Advice, in the persons of the local chairman and the local bench representative.  This year's marshals told me that drivers were every bit as ratty about being told they couldn't turn on to a road full of runners.  The event gets huge amounts of publicity, and the signs have been up for weeks on all the roads affected.  I chatted briefly with our local BBC man, who was filming in preparation for a report on tomorrow's South East Today: thoroughly nice chap, and I shall not quote his theory of where the ratty drivers had been keeping their heads in recent weeks.  See his Tweet on the marathon: had he panned another yard, you'd have seen yr. obed. servt.

Our grand days out (Two updates)

An enjoyable few days in Yorkshire, based in Cottingham with Annie.  We opted for a less action-packed agenda this time, so in our two complete days there, we visited the (glacial!) Humber car collection, the East Riding Art show in Beverley (followed by drinks at Nellie's, an ancient, dingy, gas-lit boozer, supplying white wine that will never match the charm of the house...), and on Thursday took a trip to Burton Agnes Hall to see the carpets of snowdrops.  Thence on to Bridlington for fish and chips with Annie's former colleague Di and then a bracing walk along the front to the harbour.

The Humbers were amazing.  Their owner is the consummate enthusiast, describing his cars with great knowledge and lots of stories.  One had been delivered to the Queen Mother for use at the Castle of Mey, and registered EGS 21 in Perthshire for some reason.  Evidently she didn't like the running boards because the snow and ice accumulated on them.  Later models had flared doors concealing covered steps...  Probably the closest to unique in the collection was a fine Landaulette used by the late King on a visit to Australia - not, I imagine, that they needed the flared doors to keep the snow out....  At a more banal level, the collection includes numerous late Imperials and Sceptres, the latter being more and more obviously badge-engineered Hillmans.  Amusing to see an Imperial identical to our neighbour's in the Ferry, and a Sceptre identical to my uncle's.  Both owners and vehicles thoroughly late.

The art show included some pretty impressive work, and notably a piece by Annie: a little Mediterranean landscape of lemons, olives and vines.  As usual, there was also a lot to which I wouldn't give house room - but I dare say most exhibitors would say as much on visiting Forges-l'Evêque.

Burton Agnes and Bridlington involved a lot more walking than I've been doing of late, and I welcomed an offer to come and collect us from Brid harbour by car.  Di's welcome was a true delight.  But the same is true of all Annie's friends!  The prom is beautifully paved and smooth, so a good re-introduction to walks in the fresh air.  It's a pleasure to see a fishing harbour with hundreds of yards of crab pots on the quays.  It was clear yesterday, so we had good views north to Flamborough Head.  It was less good to see people allowing their poxy mutts to harrass a beached seal.  Must admit to administering a magisterial bellow.  While we're on wildlife, this was the first time we'd seen ringed plovers in such numbers.

Such walks have been largely off the agenda since my knee started playing up, so it's good to know that physiotherapy is having some effect at least.  But I get a sense that I need to develop a sense of moderation: walking is not so easy today!

Curious thing about Hull: I don't think I've ever seen more learner HGV and bus drivers.  You don't have to stand at Annie's front window for long before you see an articulated truck or tanker go past, and we saw quite a few full trailer rigs as well.  A quick search shows that several firms in the area offer HGV training.  I wonder why there's such a concentration? 

Well, we're safely home, having got a bus from King's Cross to Charing ditto, where we joined a train that spared us both crowds and most of the intermediate stops.  Lovely to spend time with Annie and to meet new friends, and it's also not bad to be home to familiar routines and surroundings.  Part of the ageing process, I fear.

Frühlingsrauschen

Though we've had a lot of grey, wet, stormy days, we're getting some fine ones as well.  Normally when I'm stuck indoors at the hobby, of course, but today started fine and we had a few hours of sunshine.  The spring bulbs are getting into their stride, though we've only had yellow crocuses so far, and I haven't seen any signs of fritillaries.  Plenty of snowdrops, though, and some of the roses are sending out lots of new shoots.  I may have been a bit early with the spuds, which are chitting nicely out in the sitooterie, alongside some healthy perennials that have grown out of recognition since they were delivered as pluglets last back end.  The neighbourhood woodpeckers are drumming away like mad most mornings, and a blackbird is singing beautifully.  Haven't heard so much from the tawny owls lately, though, and mercifully, our neighbourhood vixen seems to have stopped advertising her services.

Last Saturday was the Mayor's quiz, and we did quite respectably - 18th out of 45, and one member short of our usual eight, one of our number having sacked the latest suitor.  The wooden spoons have been held over this year - the losing team saw the writing on the wall and left at  half-time.  Dashed poor show, what?  The Rt Hon Gent's team beat us as usual.  They were at the next table to us, so I guess I missed a trick in failing to spike their drinks.  Memo to self: go easy on the mousetrap next time.  I did not sleep well after the ploughman's copious supper.  Next engagement is the local Citizens' Advice Friends' quiz evening in March, where we tend to do better, doubtless thanks to the fish and chips.

I decided to have another crack at the Mèze sunrise piece, scaling it up a bit to roughly A3.  The rocks are now too prominent, but I'm not unhappy otherwise with the overall effect.  Anyway, I'm instructed that we aren't parting with it.  I won an unexpected day at art class last week after we'd despatched a two-day trial in a startlingly efficient single day.  Good, since I'll be missing the next two Thursdays.  Our art group is exhibiting in a church hall turned café in Edenbridge shortly for a month or so, and we're gathering there for mutual back-slapping on the next Thursday I can do.  I've put in a couple of pieces that I can bear to be without, and will adjust prices downwards if need be!  Meanwhile, a couple of little sketches - the first hack at the Mèze sunrise and a Portuguese sunset - are with our excellent framer.

Marmalade supplies are now modestly replenished, so we are probably adequately supplied until next year's Sevilles come in.  I had a real struggle with the labels last year, so did without.  For some reason, this year's presented no problems, so we can tell t'other from which.

We now have a full complement of robust doors.  The Jokers Я Us Home Improvements front and kitchen doors were pretty decrepit fifteen years after they were installed, and Wimpey's garage back door and window were not wearing their 36 years comfortably.  We're working our way down the list, slowly but surely.  Home ownership is something of a black hole, eh?  

Good old Fortnums

The hanging basket at the front and the planting box on the steps at the back have been looking a bit sad since the pansies stopped flowering.  Fortnums' to the rescue: I spotted yesterday that they were selling trays of primula acaulis (primroses, though in a variety of colours) at £5 for twenty plants.  Quite nice little plants at that, so I snapped up a batch.

Elsewhere in the garden, we now have some daffodils in flower, though the downpours of recent days have flattened a few of them.  The yellow crocuses are through, and the snowdrops are up, if not in flower.  Primroses have been flowering timidly since Christmas.  Someone at art class yesterday was mentioning hellebores, but I see no sign of them in our garden.  We tend not to do very well with them.

I don't think I can put off the marmalade making for much longer.  The oranges and lemons have been lying on the kitchen work surface for about a week now, and we're pretty busy from next week onwards.  I'll only do one batch this year, since we still have about half of last year's output in stock, and only recently finished the 2014 vintage.

My next culinary plan is another crack at pork rillettes, but this time I'll freeze small quantities!  They are so rich that small doses are ample, and I finished up throwing out half of the last lot rather than risk keeping it too long in the fridge.  Another project is to find a decent quantity of dried haricots.  Our juvenile tastes run to the occasional batch of beans on toast, but have matured enough to prefer much less sugar and salt than comes in the proprietary cans (though Fortnums' Campo Largo brand is probably the least worst in that respect).  While on sugar and salt content, it occurred to me the other day to check up on breakfast cereals.  Turns out that Fortnum's equivalent of Special K is much lower in both than Kellogg's.

Grey

The colour of January, for the most part, is rather dispiriting.  Still, en route for various nefarious pursuits, one sees quite a lot of daffodils in flower, and the mauve crocuses in the grassy patches between the footpath and the roadway round the corner have practically gone over.  A couple of our daffodils are showing colour - so I guess it won't be long before we're cursing the straggly foliage.  Our perennial pluglets are doing quite well in the sitooterie, joined now by the seed potatoes.  I had started the latter in the garage (probably a bit too early, I suppose), and had to move them in preparation for the works last Wednesday.

We now have a new kitchen door, and a new door and window to the garage.  The garage lot were hangovers from the original build in 1980, none too solid to start with, and becoming rather decrepit at 35 years.  (A bit like some of my customers at the hobby, come to think of it....)  The kitchen door was cheap and vulgar, and was becoming difficult to lock, so was also ripe for replacement.  The front door has yet to be done: we'd been hoping it could be done on on Friday.  (I certainly was, since I'd a day at the hobby, thus had hoped to leave Martyn to deal with the crashing, banging, percussion drilling and tea making.)  The quality seems OK if unmistakeably plasticky, and certainly a bit better than that of the original offerings from Jokers Я Us Home Improvements.  

I'm hoping our new suppliers had planned to replace a bit of broken beading on the inside of the garage door on their next visit.  They certainly are so planning now, Mr Hawkeye Bishop having spotted the broken bit as he returned home on Wednesday night.  We don't yet know when the new front door will go in, but when it does, we shall have a bit more light in  the hall.  We've opted not to have a letter flap in the door: the one we have at the moment clatters like mad when the wind is in the appropriate quarter.  I ordered up a 'large' wall-fitted box on line to hang on the wall next to the door, and when it arrived, it proved to be too small to accommodate an A4 envelope.  My dear friend Vic used to say 'measure twice, cut once'.  I didn't check the measurements at all, naïvely assuming that 'large' meant large.  Back it went, and I already have my refund.  Mr Efficient Bishop ordered another one that fits the bill and collected it yesterday, so it'll be ready to go up when the new door arrives.

Thursday was mildly stressful.  We'd to go to the thanksgiving service of the husband of a retired bench colleague at lunch time, and I was struggling with a guilty conscience for not having gone to see him in hospital, where he languished for some months after falling and breaking his neck in the garden.  The service was somewhat prolonged, and taken by a somewhat high-church family friend (tall collar, back to congregation, facing the altar at certain points), but at least the hymns were within our range this time!  The local vicar topped and tailed the service, but we got a sense that he was a shade miffed at not being asked to take the whole service!

Thence to Benenden hospital for my appointment with the sawbones.  The experience was not quite as I had expected, though the reception staff were somewhat more friendly and helpful than one comes to expect in certain NHS contexts, the canteen was clean and pleasant, and the free wifie worked well enough.  (Just as well since we were early and the consultant was running late.)  The waiting room, on the other hand, was crowded and cramped, which is rather what I'd hoped to avoid, having now been paying in to Benenden for 44 years!  Mr Consultant, when I finally got to see him, was thorough and encouraging.  I 'm to continue with the exercises prescribed by the NHS physio (they seem to be helping a little), and not expect results overnight.  He didn't want to intervene at this stage, and although there is arthritic damage to the joint, he reckoned I'm some way off needing a new knee, so I'm off his list.  No further bulletins will be issued meanwhile.  Unless I feel like having a good moan at some point.

Depressingly familiar day at the hobby yesterday.  It started well when I got stuck behind a slurry tanker for some miles, and maintaining a respectful distance paid off once ar twice when dollops dropped off.  At least when I got to where we dish out the shit, someone else took charge (though all three of us were qualified to do so, as has been the pattern quite a lot recently).  I got to drive at least part of the way home in daylight.  

So far, a nice lazy Saturday so far.  A couple of loaves are in the oven, and I've done a modest amount of housework and DIY.  The latter involves attempting to glue together a chopping board that had once again shed a segment.  Goodness knows: we could afford a new one, but auld Scots habits die hard.

You'll wonder where the yellow went...

Who can complete the 1950s advertising couplet?

Well, the yellow is on its way out hereabouts. The sitooterie will shortly follow into a similar blue shade, though the terra cotta coloured flooring won't change.  So far, Martyn's treatment of the gap between the French windows and the floor seems to be keeping the slugs at bay.  The carpet is a little less mottled than we thought when we chose it, so will probably be no less susceptible to marks than its green predecessor.  Oh well, it's bought and paid for now, so we'll just need to get used to it.  Letting down and ironing the curtains made for a pretty substantial project, involving a dozen or so square metres of ironing, and about six metres of hemming the heavy canvas.  I think said fabric must have been designed to withstand thermonuclear attack, so do not expect to see fine sewing: I did at least manage to keep the curtains free of blood...  Still, they hang well, and go nicely with the blue walls. 

As I was working my laborious way along them, a memory came back to me.  At primary school, the girls' sowing and knitting was inspected every so often by a ghastly old witch called Miss Geddes, who was sent on the rounds of the schools by the education committee.  She had a vicious tongue, and would often unravel several rows of knitting in front of the whole class if it did not conform to her standards.  My sowing efforts of  the last couple of days would probably have earned me a thrashing.  The boys were spared the ordeal, however, being also spared sowing and - largely - knitting (can't remember what we did while the girls were knitting and sowing: surreptitiously playing pontoon or reading the Beano, I suspect...).