Monthly Archives: February 2020

Today!

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I’ve given myself a proper talking to, and I really am going to do better at keeping the blog up to date. I rarely seem to write about the events of the day these days, and that removes the diary element from the day’s writing.

I am trying to get that back.

This morning I rose sluggishly and dragged myself to the bathroom. They tell me that exercise is good for arthritis (yes,Clare Pooley, I’m looking at you as I write this) but I’m not sure that’s true. My knee and back seem definitely do not seem improved the day after I’ve been walking.

 

This handsome Robin is from February 2018, though he has been seen many times in later posts…

I breakfasted on a bacon sandwich (Julia hasn’t quite got the hang of meat-free Mondays) and a slice of toast and jam. This was a good start to the morning, though I’m not sure that a man on a diet really needs a slice of toast and sugar. It’s like offering an alcoholic a cocktail – no matter how you dress it up, the bad stuff is still at the bottom of it. Because I am weak-willed I ate the toast.

This is our fourth week of taking a different route to work on Monday. Julia works from the office on Mondays and we go through town. Unfortunately, part of the road is closed, and will be until May, as they repair a large chunk of Nottingham’s decrepit gas system.

The first gas supply in Nottingham was used on 14 April 1819, to light ten gas lamps in the city. Crowds came to gawp, being mesmerised by the miracle of modern light, and also terrified of a gas explosion. The Nottingham Gas Light and Coke Company provided gas for many years before being taken over by the corporation in 1874, which was in turn nationalised in 1949.

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Sunset over Sherwood – February 2018

The mains in question are, like the ones replaced last year, from the 1960s. It surprises me they are so new, I thought they lasted longer than that. Anyway, they have lasted fifty years, and are now going to inconvenience me for the next four months.

If my 31-year-old self had set off walking at the same time as my 61-year-old self set off by car today it’s likely the walk we would have got to town sooner. The roads were very congested and the traffic was slow.

This congestion isn’t helped because there seem to be roadworks everywhere. Whether it’s using up budgets, inefficiency or bad luck, I do not know. Though I can hazard a guess.

After dropping Julia off I manoeuvred by a builders’ lorry which was blocking a road and, judging by the reaction from the builders, used several words they didn’t expect from a white-haired, bald old coot.

Late February 2018, we have a way to go before we can congratulate ourselves on a mild winter

Traffic was light on the other side of town and I was able to get to work in plenty of time to start packing. We had 21 parcels for the post, so it was a good thing I was in early. Several things happened this morning, some of which would be very amusing if I were the sort of person to publish gossip on his blog. But I’m not.

Someone came in from a local Sikh temple with the foreign coins and notes out of the various charity collections they have made.

After that it was time to close and spend the afternoon in errands. I shopped, took prescriptions to the doctors and made an appointment, then took my tyre to the garage. They will look at it and tell me if I simply need it reinflating or if I have damaged the (nearly new) tyre and need a new one.

A better Little Egret – February 2017 Blacktoft Sands

At home I washed up, blogged, watched TV, fell asleep, woke to eat vegetable stew and dumplings, watched TV, washed up, made sandwiches (tuna) for tomorrow and blogged. That’s what I’m doing now.

Well, I’m blogging and wondering at the the repetitive banality of my life.

To further labour the point I’m going to use some photos from previous Februaries.

Thomas Paine is from February 2016.

After the Lord Mayor’s Show…

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I don’t know if the expression used in the title will be familiar to some of my overseas readers. It is often rendered as “After the Lord mayor’s Show comes the dustcart.” I assume it has been bowdlerised over the years, as the material collected after the show was clearly horse manure and not dust.

To sum up our day- seaside, egrets, owl,marshes, magic. And so Act One ends with out happy couple heading off into the sunset…

Actually it’s a bit early for sunset but the sun is falling and there is a hint of colour in the sky.

The conversation is interrupted by a “Ping!” and a warning light on the dashboard. It was the one that warns about a tyre losing pressure. No big worry, as they do it regularly and you have to pump them up.However, I did wonder…

I reset it. My reasoning is that if it doesn’t go again for weeks there isn’t a problem, but if it sounds again in a day or two you have a slow puncture.

Twenty miles later, it sounded again. By this time we were back in Sutton on Sea and I pulled into the Car park and called Green Flag. After the debacle of our last wheel change I didn’t want to risk it in a deserted car park in the growing dusk. (Actually it was nearly 4.30, so not quite night but getting uncomfortably close for a man with poor form in recent tyre changes.

I decided to walk down to the toilet as we’d had several drinks on the trip, and found that they were locked. It was 4.31, which is how I know the time.. I just checked – most of the toilets round there are locked at 4.00, apart from the ones that are locked on Sundays and the ones that are locked all winter. It can’t be an economy measure as the lights were still on in the locked toilets.

I think it’s just a way of inconveniencing elderly visitors.

Fortunately, by the time I got back to the car and took the spare out, the man from Green Flag arrived. This is top quality service, as well as being a lot cheaper than the AA.

We were soon back on four wheels and 200 yards later we were outside the chip shop. The darkened, closed chip shop. After a number of average visits it’s only the fact we’ve been going there for 30 years that keeps us going. They really are pushing their luck. I’d been looking forward to chips too.

We went further down the coast. It was dark by the time we reached Skegness and selected KFC for our meal. It’s good, reliable, has toilets and a car park. And it isn’t McDonald’s. McDonald’s are OK for snacks but this was our evening meal. We do not have high standards…

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Wicked Zinger Meal – why can’t they just call it a chicken sandwich meal?

It would be nice to report that we had an excellent meal and an uneventful trip home. We did have a good meal, mostly, but that will be another post. We didn’t quite have an uneventful journey home.

The conversation went like this.

“You should have stopped picking your nose fifty years ago.”

“I was clearing an obstruction in my nasal passages.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Do you have any tissues?”

Rustling in bag.

“No, but I’ve got a spare serviette from KFC.”

Sometimes, when you are driving, you just can’t manage a decent nose blow to clear your nasal passages and a good prod has to suffice. Unfortunately, when you are on Warfarin, a good prod can result in copious bleeding and a lecture on the habits of small boys and grown men being far too much alike.

We saw another owl later. First we saw the reflected light of its eyes as it flew across the road in front of us, then again as it turned towards us for a better look, which also enabled us to the the dumpy brown shape of what was probably a Tawny Owl. which isn’t a bad final memory of the day. With any luck, when we look back, we may forget that I had a serviette stuffed up my nose at the time.

Magic on the Marshes

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The weather was mild this morning, we had nothing pressing to do at home and the coast beckoned. We rose at a leisurely pace, had a late breakfast (with the intention of having fish and chips at Sutton-on-Sea), and pottered off.

So far, so good.

Unfortunately I set off on the wrong road and neither of us noticed because we were talking at the time. Eventually we realised and I adjusted our route to take us to the coast via Gainsborough, which is an interesting town with Viking history. Sweyn Forkbeard and his son Cnut won a kingdom here when they defeated the army of King Ethelred the Unready. The story of Cnut, or Canute as he was known in my younger days, and his attempt to turn back the tide, may have occurred in Gainsborough.

It was also England’s most inland port, being 55 miles from the sea. However, big ships no longer call, so it’s not a proper port these days. The Nottinghamshire Naturalist’s Trust have some interesting records of whales at Gainsborough, and dolphins near Newark.

But enough about Gainsborough, it’s a nice enough town but it is not our destination.

We travelled to Sutton on Sea and enjoyed a bracing stroll along the front, watching the dog walkers and their various styles of dog walking and noticing the tracks across the sand. It was about 1.00 pm by this time. I noticed that if a lot of people had passed that way, turning the sand numerous times, the sand seemed to stay moist, and the tracks showed up as churned sand the same colour as the beach. If only one or two people had gone that way the churned sand seemed to dry in the wind and leave a pale trail across the beach. I hope the photo will demonstrate what I mean.

Tracks on the Beach

Tracks on the Beach

 

Dogs at Sutton on Sea
Dogs at Sutton on Sea
Dogs at Sutton on Sea
Dogs at Sutton on Sea

I looked for the glasses I lost on our last visit. They were not there. It’s just like being at home, people are always moving things after I put them down.

The fields were full of pheasants, who clearly know that the pheasant season ends on 1st February.

After that we travelled north to Horseshoe Point. We’ve been there before, It is reached by a pot-holed road, which is getting worse due to construction traffic – they are building the onshore bit for one of the offshore wind farms here. There is a car park, some marsh, a few coastal defences left from the war and not much else.

Horseshoe Point
Horseshoe Point
Horseshoe Point
Horseshoe Point

As we parked, three vees of geese flew over, obviously intent on grazing a field before roosting. We didn’t see them later but we did see a big flock of Widgeon on the return trip. Today we had views of ships in the Humber, hazy wind turbines and a Little Egret. I was particularly pleased with that as we’d seen two in roadside fields during the trip but hadn’t been able to stop and watch or photograph them.

Little Egret - Horseshoe Point

Little Egret – Horseshoe Point

It stayed in the distance, but it did do quite a bit of walking about and some short flights. I know they are quite common these days, but it’s always a thrill to see one.

On the way back to Sutton on Sea, and the chip shop, we were lucky enough to see a hunting Barn Owl as the light fell. They are ghostly, pale birds, and suit the light at the end of the day. It flew from one side of the road to the other, banking several times to show off its plumage, which is a lacework pattern of cream, grey and beige. A magic end to a fine day. It was just a shame it was too quick for me to get the camera out.

Wind Turbines – Horseshoe Point
Wind Turbines – Horseshoe Point
Wind Turbines – Horseshoe Point
Wind Turbines – Horseshoe Point

(To be continued)

 

 

 

God’s Acre

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God's Acre

God’s Acre

 

When we visited the church at Sibsey, we noticed a sign about the God’s Acre Project. It seems to be a nature conservation project which manages churchyards for wildlife, in addition to their primary purpose of containing graves.

It seems like a good idea, and after being developed in Lincolnshire has been adopted by some Kent churches too.

It’s difficult to see a downside to the idea, as many churchyards are, to be fair, not kept in a manicured condition. It seems sensible to make a virtue of this and help develop the wildlife potential of the area.

Here are some pictures of the spring flowers at Sibsey. I note that they have nest boxes up too, as they have a number of mature trees, including an avenue of limes. 

Winter Aconites – Sibsey
Primrose
Primrose

The stump of cross is, it seems, a Grade 2 listed and a Scheduled Monument. I know we value our old bits and pieces, but this seems over the top for a bit of broken cross. If it was that important they should have looked after it better.

To be honest with you, I’d rather see some of the gravestones scheduled and looked after, rather than a bit of stone which looks tough enough to look after itself.

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Remains of the Churchyard Cross

 

Cyclamen leaves
Lime Avenue
Snowdrops

It was just a flying visit on Wednesday, to give me a start on the research for The Talk, as I am beginning to think of it. There is quite a lot more to see, and I’m sure a few leaves on the trees will encourage avian activity around the nest boxes.

Time Passes…

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I originally said I wanted to do two posts a day for a fortnight. Then, in my head, this became two posts a day for 15 days. I’ve just checked and counted up and I’ve done 27 posts in 14 days.

So, despite being ahead at one point, I have missed the target by one post. Or, if I adopt the 15 day target, I’m still in with a chance. Not that it really matters.

Whatever I do, the sun will still rise on a new day and, bit by bit, my life and writings will gradually decay until they disappear and nobody will remember me. That’s a serious point, rather than just me being morbid.

What happens to digital pictures and writing as time goes on? I already have some old camera cards I can’t read, though that may be because they are empty. I really can’t remember. I also have photographs on CD, though I notice a growing trend for laptops not to have CD drives. It’s possible that in a few years my CDs will lie there gathering dust in a house that has no CD drive.

Perhaps it is time to think about using cloud storage, though I’m not really clear what it is or how it really works. I am not altogether comfortable with trusting my life and documents to a third party. I’m afraid of another Word scenario, where I merely rent Microsoft Word instead of owning a copy, and where I belong to an American corporation rather than being a person.

If I live long enough I might have to rewrite that as “a Chinese corporation”, but though the details may change, the reality remains the same.

The header picture shows two British Medals from the Great War – known as “a pair” in the trade. This is the British War Medal (the silver one) and the Victory Medal. All the Allied Nations produced their own Victory Medal after the Great War, with different designs, which is why it may seem familiar to readers from other countries.

It was this that brought on some of these thoughts. We buy something similar nearly every week, and when we ask if they were from as family member, the seller often does not know. They were issued named, and the name often means nothing, because over the years they have forgotten the names of their own ancestors.

The recipient of these medals died in the 1930s, as a result of ill health caused by military service. He was, as far as I could guess from the names and relationships of the mourners, the brother of the vendor’s grandmother. His adverts appeared in local papers of the time – he was a music teacher. He was also a professional musician and a chapel organist for many years.

If you can forget all that in the space of a couple of generations who will remember a man who wrote about eating veggie burgers and similar inconsequential subjects?

Veggie Burgers

Veggie Burgers

History in the Making

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A little tiredness, a touch of sloth and I’m on the fourteeth day of the challenge with 26 posts done. I was ahead, I’m now behind.

Today was a busy day on eBay and a reasonably busy one in the shop. This is good, because we are there to be busy.

For the second day in a row we sold a lot of 1973 Proof 50p coins.

That’s the one with the ring of hands, which commemorates our membership of the EEC, as the EU was known at the time. This was exciting stuff in 1973, a whole new world of international relations and the first new decimal coin design.

How things change in just a few years.

It’s forty-seven years later, we have so many new designs of coin that it’s both disorientating and embarrassing, and we are leaving the EU. If the figures are to be believed, and I’d rather believe figures than politicians, it has already cost us a lot of money in terms of lost growth and could cost us a lot more.

We might do better as a result of leaving, who can tell? But my forecast is that when they close the lid of my cardboard coffin, people will still be arguing about it.

I know one thing – the quality of debate has not improved. Someone buttonholed Julia on the bus to talk about the importance of taking power back into our own hands and being able, once more, to enjoy bent bananas. Someone brought their grandson into the shop today, and had a very similar meander through their few remaining brain cells. It seems that today is the firsdt day of a new democracy and we are once again free to enjoy the benefits of bright green mushy peas and bent bananas.

What is it with these people and their bent bananas?

All foods are regulated, and have been since well before our membership of the EEC. If they weren’t, we would still be adulterating bread with alum and feeding kids sweets made with poisonous dyes.

So, what did I do on the day life changed forever?

Nothing much, just parcelled up nibe 50p pieces with an EEC design and listened to someone’s grandma talk rubbish.

History passed me by.

For an example of how coin design has deteriorated, look at out new Brexit 50p. A work-experience kid with a fancy font on a computer could have designed that. It’s pathetic.

1973 50p