Category Archives: ramblings

current affairs, medical, personal, ramblings

Horrible Times 22: Lockdown 450

In this instalment … Today, Saturday 19 June 2021, is day 450 of lockdown for us.

And still not a lot has really changed since I last reported on Day 400

So why don’t we get the “bad” news over first?

  • In the last 50 days I’ve managed to get off the premises just twice. Once for part 2 of my annual diabetes check-up & shingles vaccination, and secondly for an optician’s appointment. That makes a grand total of just 9 “outings” in 450 days. Which is quite pathetic really, although rather understandable.
  • I managed to miss the partial eclipse of the sun on 10 June. I don’t remember when we last had clear skies, at a sensible time, for any astronomical phenomenon.
  • We’ve had two friends in hospital. One with heart problems, which have needed a pacemaker fitted; the other with a broken leg (luckily not a hip).
  • In other medical news I got a talking to by my diabetic nurse for letting my blood glucose control slip somewhat over the last year, and not losing any weight. Moral 1: must try harder. Moral 2: the medical profession need to understand quality of life.
  • And of course our pathetic government has delayed removing all Covid restrictions. I have to say I think this is the right decision, given the apparent extra transmissibility of the Covid delta variant. However it is entirely of the government’s own making: they could have nipped this in the bud by introducing travel restrictions to/from India in early April rather than waiting 3-4 weeks. But then this is entirely consistent with their whole approach.

In more positive news …

  • We’ve had a mini heatwave, which is rather a nice change from the cold wet weather which preceded it.
  • And the good weather has enabled us to get our runner beans planted, as well as a selection of salad leaf veggies. Nothing to harvest yet a while although I have harvested the first dozen chillies from last year’s plants (on the study windowsill) which I overwintered.
  • The good weather has also brought the roses into bloom. The garden is a riot of roses at the moment, including a dog rose flowering right at the top of our mature silver birch tree. Walking down the garden there is a heavy scent of roses.
  • Having found a very dead Rose Chafer on the patio table, I was finally impelled to buy a macro lens for my camera so I can take more/better close-ups. So far this has mostly meant flowers.
  • As well as splashing out money on a new lens I also bought two paintings by Adrian Daintrey at auction. For security reasons I’m obviously not going to post them here, but members of the Anthony Powell Society will find out more in due course (as Daintrey was a friend of Powell’s).
  • And finally, I’ve been doing quite a bit of work on my family history. I’ve especially been trying to unravel the Marshalls back in the late 17th and early 18th centuries around the Weald of Kent. I have a brick wall there in my father’s line; I’m sure there are connexions between all those I’ve found, but currently I’m unable to prove it – or satisfactorily work out exactly who is related to who. It doesn’t help that the men are all called Stephen, Thomas or William. The one guy with an easily identifiable name, Reynolds Marshall, seems to parachute in from nowhere in the late 17th century. It’s a tangled web which should be solvable, but for the fact that back then parish records were patchy and often haven’t survived. And along the way you get diverted down some (usually irrelevant) rabbit holes – so just who was the rather improbably named Samuel Drawbridge? Such are the joys of family history!

So what happens next? Well who knows. By the time of my next report at day 500 we’ll either have had all restrictions lifted and told we can go back to (some approximation to) normality, or we’ll be deep in another wave of Covid cases. Or, the pessimistic side of me suggests it might be both of those.

We’re not even in the lap of the gods, but the whim of our government. Gawdelpus!

food+drink, ramblings

Early Chilli Harvest

Today I have harvested the first of this year’s chillies: a dozen fully ripe Scotch Bonnets from the four plants on the study windowsill.

These are last years plants, and they’re getting cramped in a single 9-10 inch diameter pot! After they finished flowering last autumn I left them on the windowsill, and kept them watered. They continued to flourish as they were getting some warmth and good light, but not enough to keep flowering.

Then in late February I cut them back to about 10 inches. Within days they were growing new side shoots, and within a few weeks were flowering. They’re now good compact plants! Today’s harvest is the result.

These are two of last years crop;
this year’s have gone straight in the freezer

Although I’ve not repotted them, they have had their soil topped up and been given some feed. So with regular water and more feed, hopefully they’ll produce more flowers, and chilies, as the summer progresses. Hand pollinating the flowers is the best way to ensure a good crop – an old small watercolour brush is their best sex toy.

I might even try to keep them over another winter although they really will need repotting by then!

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. VIII.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

VIII. King George’s Oak

Abundant the Acorns, cached by the Jay,
While well furrowed Bark keeps fungus at bay.

Cork’s from an oak, it’s preserving our wine,
The Dove’s in her nest, a love bird divine.

Look there’s our Ellen, snuggling her swain,
Ripe for the Fuck, that they’ll soon entertain.

Old Billy Goat’s browsing anything low,
Turning Herbs to manure, and helping things grow.

Ever green is the Ivy, hiding a drey,
While the old Jay’s still caching away.

Katt is the cat who’s stalking the Jay,
While thousands of Larvae are munching all day.

Growing the Moths which make food for the Bat,
And leaving the Nuts which make Squirrel all fat.

Over the Orchard, grow apples to munch,
By agéd Piers Ploughman, who’s eating his lunch.

Pretty’s the Quince, with pink flowers in Spring,
While later a Robin Christmas greetings will bring.

Slyly the Stoat’s on the lookout for prey,
While circles of Toadstools, grow in the hay.

Shady the Umbra, we all sit beneath,
Not knowing the Vixen’s her den underneath.

Wispy the Wool, from the sheep of the croft,
While woody old Xylem, sends water aloft.

Here there’s a Yew, that great tree of old,
Protecting our Zzzzleeps, more precious than gold.

Well I hope you’ve enjoyed this little drollery. Watch this space in case there are further developments.

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. VII.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

VII. More Village People

First there is Alice, whose surname is King,
her husband is Bert, who can mend any thing.

Clive is the one who tends to our hair,
He’s living with Dana, exceedingly fair.

Starchy is Ellie, she’s really a prude,
While Fanny relaxes, sunbathing nude.

Gary and Greg live as husband and wife,
And then there is Hannah, the vicar’s young wife.

There’s Arthur’s girl, Izzy, living alone,
With twins Jane and Jemima, father unknown.

Here is Nurse Karen, who tends to our ails,
And lazy old Leslie, who lodges at Gail’s.

We all love Matilda, a Master of Wine,
But no-one likes Norman, a breeder of swine.

There goes Orlena, who lives by her snatch,
While Pete the Policeman watches our patch.

Quaintly old Queenie lives down The Streete,
And Robin the farmer, grows barley and wheat.

Susy the sculptor carves objects in wood,
Her Toby’s a terror, mostly up to no good.

Doctor Umberto’s an expert on soils,
He lives next to Vikki, a painter in oils.

Old Walter’s a wonder, he’s still mending clocks,
Next to Miss Xandra, a stitcher of frocks.

Yanko is ancient – he came in the war,
and lastly there’s Zoe, our expert on law.

Piece VIII will appear on Tuesday 18 May.

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. VI.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

VI. The Duck Pond

Andy the Angler, is trying his luck,
While bumble-y Bees, at the flowers they suck.

Cunning the Carp – a fish cannot drown,
Unlike the Ducks, all dabbling down.

There is Old Eb, who sits on the bench,
He’s watching the Fox, just seen jumping the fence.

There’s gaggles of Geese, they’re just flying sheep,
And then there’s old Heron, who’s off with a leap.

Winter brings Ice – see the skating is free,
Surprising the Jogger who stops for a pee.

Look! – a Kingfisher – just flashes of blue,
Zips past the Log we use as a pew.

Merry the Mermaid, we never have seen,
But here is a Newt – this one’s called Jean!

O are the ripples caused by a rock,
Thrown by the Parson, ignoring his flock.

A Quern Stone has made a step at the edge
Of the tall Rushes right next to the hedge.

A babbling Stream, with its water so clean,
Houses the Toad, all swarthy and green.

Running, the Urchin’s evading his Mum,
Ignoring a Vandal, fly-tipping – the scum!

Wet was the Witch they once ducked in the pond,
But saucy young Xena swims the millpond.

Yo, there’s a Yob, forever a pest,
To even the Zephyr which blows from the west.

Piece VII will appear on Tuesday 11 May.

current affairs, medical, personal, ramblings

Horrible Times 21: Lockdown 400

Today, Friday 30 April 2021, is our 400th day of Covid-19 Lockdown. And not a lot has changed since my last report on day 365.

  • In 400 days I’ve been off the premises just seven times: three to the dentist (one just to have some paperwork signed), for a flu jab, twice for vaccination, and one for blood tests. It really has been all the fun of the fair!
  • Noreen and I have now had both our injections of the Pfizer vaccine. Noreen went again to the Town Hall, whereas I went to the centre in deepest Southall. My experience was that this was not as well run as the Town Hall, and I seemed to spend most of the time moving from one queue to the next. Even so I was in and out in about 30 minutes. And Southall itself was grid-locked (well it was some Sikh holy day) and still the same dump that it always was. We now just await out booster in the autumn.
  • In less good news, I’ve had a really annoying bladder infection (I know, TMI already!). Yet again I’ve been impressed with our GPs’ being able to work with patients over the phone rather than face-to-face. This infection has resulted in two rounds of antibiotics (turns out the nasty little organism was resistant to the first antibiotic I was given), three rounds of urine tests and a visit to Ealing Hospital for an armful of blood tests (most of which were overdue for my annual diabetic check-up anyway). Amazingly most of the blood tests turned out to be OK.
    Ealing Hospital is the same appalling place it always was: a dismal ’70s concrete bunker which was never fit for purpose; badly signposted; and apparently staffed by the downtrodden. I hate the place and avoid it if at all possible; I just hope I never have to be treated there for anything serious.
  • Along the way I’ve also has two (different) Covid tests; both for research studies I’m signed up to. Luckily both were negative. Noreen has done one as well.
  • In good news the days are lighter, brighter and with longer daylight and the fruit trees and lilac are in flower. We’ve even had some warm sunshine, although it is still rather chilly unless the sun is out. The downside of this is that we’ve again suffered the daftness of changing the clocks. The garden was looking very ragged, but is coming under control now our friend Tom is allowed entry again and has done after several days work – although nothing much has been pruned over the winter.
  • Meanwhile the country continues to go to Hell in a handcart as our increasingly despicable government lies its way from one pathetic charade to the next. They keep getting caught out lying but seem not to care when any self-respecting government would have resigned long since and been banished.


Who knows what happens next?

I suspect the government will continue to ease the restrictions (regardless of the data) and I fear we’ll see a further spike in Covid cases over the summer and/or autumn when the great unwashed return from Costa Plenti. I can’t see us being clear of social distancing and mask-wearing this year. And we might even have another Christmas in lockdown – although I sincerely hope we don’t.

One tries to remain optimistic and cheerful through all the gloom, but as my father would have said “it’s hard to be optimistic with a misty optic”!

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. V.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

V. The Sun Inn

Amber’s the Ale, the brewery’s best,
Poured by the Barmaid, a magnificent chest.

The Cider’s refreshing; the girls drink in sips;
While Tom’s Dog goes begging for peanuts and chips.

‘Ere is young Emma who always wears clogs,
And sits by the Fire, made up with good logs.

All the fine Glass is so sparkling and clear,
And still we’ve the Hat, which was left here last year.

Ice is in cubes – no, not in my beer!
There’s a jang-e-ly jukebox we wish wasn’t here.

Cute is yon Katy whose hair is dyed pink,
Thus deceiving the Lager that only poofs drink.

There’s food on the Menu, good pies do abound,
While Nuts is the cat who’s always around.

There is Old Arthur, still sucking his pipe,
And Polly, Stan’s Parrot, who’s language is ripe.

Lend me a Quid, I need five for a beer,
And top up Miss Rosie, who’s everyone’s dear.

The Snug at the back’s where the old ‘uns hold court,
Draining the Tankards which each of them brought.

There’s yeuchy Urinals where water we pass,
After drinking the Vino, that’s sold by the glass.

Wee is the Widow, still hearty and hale,
Sipping her 5X, a lovely strong ale.

The Young and the Yoof, so noisy and loud,
Still treasure Zog, our mascot, so proud.

Piece VI will appear on Tuesday 4 May.

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. IV.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

IV. The Village Stores

A-2-Z Stores serves every and each,
Selling Bananas and Butter and Bleach.

Cheese just so special; Charcoal for the grill;
Detergent’s essential; Daffs for the thrill.

Ed sells no cake, nor bread, meat or fish
Frozen excepted, and Fruit for the dish.

The Fruit Gums are tasty; the kiddies they please,
And so is the Honey, from Freddie’s good bees.

There’s flavoursome Ice Cream, local and good,
With extra pink Jelly for trifle or pud.

The Kale it is rough, only good for the sheep;
Loo paper’s essential, and Ed sells it cheap.

There’s Milk and there’s Mops and even some Macs,
While the Nails and the Screws are in little packs.

There’s Olives and Oils, mostly pressed out of seeds,
And the little Post Office will serve all your needs.

There’s seldom a Queue, it never tops four,
There’s Rice as a staple for puddings and more.

Sandpaper, Sugar, and Seeds for our patch,
Plus trays of the Toffee Jill makes by the batch.

Greasy an Unction for toenails ingrown,
And varietal Veggies, most locally grown.

You need a new permit to fish by the Weir,
And Xmas is coming, no glitter this year.

Live are the Yoghurt, and Yeast, but more yet,
Zee are the last things we mustn’t forget.

Piece V will appear on Monday 26 April.

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. III.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

III. The Church of St George

Green is the Altar, a table, today,
And Ben is our Bishop, who’ll visit one day.

Blessed is the Candle, with book and with bell,
Helping the Dean, send demons to Hell.

Eddie’s an Eagle, he’s made out of brass,
Admiring the Flowers, arranged by Miss Glass.

Stained is the Glass in the windows so bright,
Which with our Hymns, sends joy to the height.

Heavenly Incense, clouds flying like geese,
Blessing the Jurats, for keeping the peace.

Stout are the Kingposts supporting the roof,
Above the brass Lectern – that Eagle’ aloof!

We always hear Mass, we’re High Church round here,
Suiting the Nuns from the Convent quite near.

Ann is our Organist, ever adept,
While safe is the Pyx, where the Host it is kept.

The Quad is quite early, ’tis the cloister you see,
While the Rood was replaced in 1603.

Small is our Spire, barely reaching the sky,
On top of the Tower from which the bats fly.

You Unbelievers are certain for Hell,
And so is the Vandal, he’ll go there as well.

There’s Wilma the Witch who never comes near,
While X is we Christians, faithful and clear.

Uncaring the Yob, with hardly a nod,
Unlike the Zealot, ever speaking to God.

Piece IV will appear on Monday 19 April.

amusements, personal, ramblings

The Village. II.

The Village – A Story in Eight Pieces

II. Village People

Anthony, the Squire, lives up at “The Mares”,
While Bernard, our doctor, lives at “Three Bears”.

Cathy is new here, she teaches our school,
With pretty Denise, our champion at boule.

Ed is a twin, he runs the small store,
Bro’ Fred’s been our postman for ever and more.

George is a farmer, with sheep by the score,
Which Harry the butcher will bring to your door.

Grumpy old Ivy, is ever so prim,
While John, who’s retired, keeps our gardens in trim.

Ken and his trumpet, play jazz on the beach,
In duo with Lisa, a lovely young peach.

There’s Father O’Michael, our vicar for years,
And Nick, the bookseller, who likes a few beers.

Oh, here is Oscar, he’s just three years old,
And Poppy, just sixteen, already so bold.

Quarrelsome Quentin’s, the Squire’s youngest son,
While Roger’s our baker, always up with the sun.

Big Sergeant Stan, is mine host at The Sun,
With tiny Theresa, his wife with a bun.

An enigma is Uncle, we don’t know his name,
Who lives next to Vi, a feisty old dame.

Willowy Wendy, see how she can dance!
Partnering Xavier, an import from France.

Yvonne the alto sings a good song,
And Zeb is the Blacksmith, all brawny and strong.

Piece III will appear on Tuesday 13 April.