Monthly Archives: September 2024

The Best Time to Plant a Tree

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Spring in the Mencap Garden

“Live as though you’ll die tomorrow, but garden as though you’ll live forever.”

I won’t attribute the quote, because it’s one of those that has been knocking around for years and has been altered several times.

The social media started pinging on Julia’s phone this morning as members of the group that was going to go down to the War memorial started calling off because of the cold, miserable rain. As a newly retired lady of leisure, I was glad to see that she too decided not to bother. It was good to see, as she can be a bit driven and it wouldn’t have surprised me to see her turn out despite the weather and poor attendance.

She is already considering her options for volunteering when we move.  My activity has been limited to finding a gardener to do some of the heavy work and starting to list some of the jobs that need doing. It’s a list that keeps growing. I’ve just been looking up the options available for terracotta paint. That is a sentence I never thought I would write. Until now I have only operated with three colours. Magnolia, blue, green. That’s all you need inside a house. This isn’t Chelsea and it isn’t New England.  Only interior decorators and designers of camouflage need to work with more colours.

Nasturtiums Wilford Mencap Gardens

Of course, that means we have to decorate before putting the new carpet down. We need a new carper because the previous occupant had  a dog and there is a dog bed shaped mark on the carpet in one corner of the living room. That’s why we need to paint at least one wall too – greasy dog marks on the pale wall. That’s why I prefer cats. They make lay out the occasional rodent corpse where you find it with your bare feet in the morning, but they are very clean around the house. And you soon learn to watch where you are putting your feet when you get up.

However, as I mentioned to Derrick in the comments – the main topic is where we put the rhubarb. I’m a simple lad at heart and I do like a rhubarb patch. It will go well with the tropical theme I am thinking of using in the planting.  The potted damson tree and the fig will be going with us, as will the red cordyline and the New Zealand Flax. We will also take cuttings of the fuchsia (Tom Thumb) because it was given to us by friends when we moved in. Tradition is important, like my mother’s clivia. I don’t remember how long she had it, but we have a descendant, as does my sister and Number One son. Number Two son fled to Canada to avoid one.  The trick is to observe the garden for a year before we make any decisions, apart from removing self-seeded saplings, dead conifers and ivy.

Worms at Mencap Garden, Wilford, Nottingham

And the answer to the title – the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time to plant a tree is now. having had experience of trees in gardens, I’m going to be careful about planting at the new place, I will however be sending more money to The Ribble Rivers Trust. They just won a prize. I don’t have a big enough garden to plant trees and I can’t afford to buy or plant my own woodland, so this is the next best thing.

 

Shades of Lady Bracknell – A Conservatory . . .

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I’m feeling a little shell-shocked at the moment after gaining access to the new bungalow yesterday. It’s been eight years since I last visited and it isn’t quite as I remember it. There’s more lawn than I remember, for one thing, and more wooden fencing (which all looks as though it needs painting). I remember two sides of the back garden being brick walls but in fact only half the back wall is brick and the rest is wood. Two self-seeded trees have been allowed to grow, the shed is rotting and rampant ivy is assailing us from all sides. Even if I had been thinking of what to do in retirement (which I haven’t) I now have the answer. I’m going to be gardening. Fortunately it’s good for you to get outside and get your hands in the soil while doing gentle exercise, so it’s not a problem.

Our first test run was rather too hot.

 

Inside needs a bit of work too, but that’s mainly minor stuff, with the exception of the leaking conservatory roof, and I knew that was a problem we would have to fix. I’m torn between annoyance at having a large bill for repairs (currently waiting for quotes, but it’s bound to be large, or probably even larger) and wonder that I actually have a conservatory. A good portion of my early years were spent living in a corner shop in Blackburn, where we only had an outside toilet. I think I must be from the last generation where it was possible to grow up without indoor sanitation. My Dad, a generation earlier, had clogs. They are something worn by clog dancers these days, but they were the footwear of the poor in the 1930s. They are still used as industrial footwear and you  buy them from workwear shops when I lived in Preston in the 1980s.

How times change. A conservatory . . .

I’ve also had another poem accepted, but that’s not as amazing as owning a conservatory.

Piccalilli

Pictures are more from October 2014 – the first month of the blog. Header shows the mobile bread oven being stoked up for a school demonstration.

A Retired Couple

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Things that make me happy – Number One – Julia at a tearoom

Julia retired today. She will be back at work on Monday because they are short-staffed, and I suspect she won’t be paid for it. However, with the MENCAP pay rates being what they are, it won’t make a lot of difference.

On Tuesday we will officially be a retired couple and I suspect my life is not going to be as relaxed as it has been over the last few months. There is a lot more housework in my future. I can see it looming now. And a lot more decluttering.

Julia’s feet. Red shoes are almost a modern icon – from Judy Garland to Elvis Costello. 

That’s a link to the story of how he wrote the song. Ten minutes of inspiration. Bowie mentions red shoes too. I must write a poem about them and have my moment rubbing shoulders with greatness.

We had soup for tea tonight. I meant to photograph it, just to get a new photograph to use. All my old soup photos have already been used several times. This is Tomato, Pepper and Lentil Soup. It also had half a strong home-grown onion in it. It was a can of tomatoes, a can of water, two peppers (we have quite a few at the moment) the onion, and some lentils. I always have red lentils about because I always think of them as healthy and you hardly notice them in soups. I like it with celery in it, but we didn’t have any as I’m slimming the fridge down at the moment. Normally I make it with beans too, as a sort of main course soup, but was surprised to find I had run out of canned beans. I must get a grip on the supplies.

Julia, Sutton-on-Sea, in a chip shop. It’s like  a duller version of Cluedo, isn’t it?

That reminded me of something I could have written about last night – can openers. Our only can opener proved unable to remove the top from another can,  and this one wasn’t even bent. A can opener that doesn’t open cans is not much use. In fact it’s not technically a can opener at that point. I must buy another but it needs some thought as the last one we bought fell apart within weeks, lasting only long enough for me to misplay the receipt. I’m also going to buy one of the old-fashioned bull’s head pattern – they are dangerous but effective, and I’d hate to starve to death as I gaze at a pile of unopenable cans. I do actually have one around the house  from my antique dealing days. They are quite heavy so if I can’t cut the tin open I can bludgeon it until it gives up its contents. Lightweight versions of this were the only things we had at one time – the modern type safety opener was a marvel when we first saw them.

Julia as Lifeguard – Britannia Pier, Great Yarmouth

 

10 Years

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According to WP it is ten years since I registered. They just sent me a message to tell me. It took a few weeks for me to get into the swing of things so my first post was not until the 8th of October. I’ve just had a look at that first month – there are few photos and a tendency to forget titles. Some things don’t change. That month, we went to The Lakes to celebrate our 25th Wedding anniversary.

Guinea Fowl sheltering from the rain under a picnic table.

A lot has happened in the last ten years, but I expect you have noticed that. A lot has happened to us all.

Unfortunately, or possibly fortunately, depending on your point of view, I still can’t find much to say. House purchasing has driven it all out of my head. Solicitors, taxation and bills don’t leave much room for other thoughts. I’m just glad that we are doing it now. My parents left their final move until they were nearly 80 and it took a lot out of them. I’m not sure they ever really bounced back from it.

Fortunately I did manage to sneak some time to send submissions out. Life feels a lot better when I have submissions out, even if they eventually get returned. It’s hard to think of myself as a writer when I’m not actually submitting work.

A colourful salad – borage, nasturtium leaves and fat hen.

Bearing in mind some of the things I’d been saying about planning, and trying harder, I sent a submission to a magazine I have a patchy record with. They have already accepted something, so it paid off. That’s really the difference between positive and negative thinking. I could have sat here, avoided submitting and carried on thinking that they “never” accept anything. Or I could, as I did, send a submission and get a surprise acceptance. maybe I’m getting better. Or just luckier.

Yes, soup is a constant thread in this blog. I made Tomato, Pepper and Lentil soup today.

Photos are from October 2014. The cake was for our 25th Wedding Anniversary.

Rage, rage etc . . .

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Photo by ThisIsEngineering on Pexels.com

Yes, you know the one. Dylan Thomas. Old age. Rage. I’m in one of those funny moods again.

Have you ever had one of those days when you just want to give up? I spent last night with a head crammed with things to write about but couldn’t for the life of me make anything into a remotely interesting post. I have a stack of things to do, just to keep up, and the problems of the world also seem to have descended on me. Sometimes it just happens.

The anticoagulant service has messed up on my testing. It isn’t their fault. The IT in the blood testing department went down a couple of weeks ago and although my test was due the day after they restarted, it seems to have been caught up in the general mess. The nurse who tested did OK, the lab tested it, but nothing happened. That’s what happens when you get giant organisations. It’s also what happens when these organisations don’t invest in new equipment. The trouble is that the NHS can’t afford new equipment. They are being challenged on all fronts. Nurses want more money, doctors want more money, people want treatment for fertility and gender issues (neither of which is actually an illness). People want inquiries because they don’t think they are getting good service, people want expensive drugs, people want compensation when things go wrong.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

And the final result is that they don’t have robust IT systems so my blood test goes missing.

Now, before you all start complaining about my insensitivity, yes, I know that each of those problems is serious, if not actually tragic for the people who suffer. I know we all want more money. I am, however, able to access the pay scales of the NHS online and I have family who work for the NHS and I can tell you that compared to shop assistants and and care workers NHS staff don’t do too badly.

The bottom line is that the NHS, even if it took all the money in the country, would not be properly funded. The demands we make on it are just too high and, frankly, unrealistic.

And that’s before we look at the demands of education, defence, police, infrastructure and all the other things we take for granted. Or before I start to discuss my First World Problems of lawyers, moving house, health and vegetables.

I’m hoping that, having spent my morning in the company of a list and some self-discipline, I have sorted out a few of my problems. By tonight I may be back as a fully functioning human being rather than a zombie. Then I can start to sort out the problems of the world.

And here’s another version to play me out. I may have it read at my funeral, if I can find a suitable Welshman to read it. And if I have a funeral. Those cheap plans where they take you away in a van and burn the body are looking very attractive as I embrace the world of living off a pension.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

The Tail End of the Day

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It’s almost midnight and it’s still raining. I looked in amazement at the weather map tonight and saw a seemingly endless band of rain over the Midlands. Fifty miles south of here they had the equivalent of the whole month’s rainfall in one day. My grandmother used to blame bad weather on Russian satellites and, with all that happens these days I’m beginning to wonder if that could be true. I’m quite prepared to blame the Russians for anything from bad weather to electoral fraud and anything in between.

My day has mainly been taken up with researching the Lidgett family of Lincoln and the City of Lincoln tribute Medals that bear their name. There were three Lidgetts, all family and all called Thomas. There was also Charles, who died young after being worn out by dysentery on military service. The trick lay in sorting out which Lidgett was which, as several other showed up in the area and needed checking. I also checked up the medal itself, but there is very little on it in the papers. I know I have seen an article on it, and have a copy of it, but I can’t lay my hands on it. They had a homecoming banquet for about 4,000 men in an aircraft hanger but I can’t find details. It’s annoying. I really should keep better notes.

I’ve also been checking up on Horace Stewart, who wrote his name inside the lid of the box the un-named medal came in. Born in Lincolnshire, 1899, son of a gamekeeper. Served in Northamptonshire Regiment and the Nottinghamshire & Derbyshire Regiment (Sherwood Foresters). Qualified for a pension after the war for something I can’t decypher. Lived in Shropshire, Wale and Stevenage in the years after the war but ended up back in Lincoln, where he world as a Male Nurse (Mental) as the 1939 List tells us. Active in local politics, he died in 1982. It’s a short version of a life story that obviously has a lot more to it than I can find.

Julia, meanwhile, has been more practical and more gainfully employed. I came down to find a bowl of dried apricots soaking in something, and realised it was Christmas cake day. It has been baked and cooled and is now maturing. I now have to live with the knowledge that we have cake in the house and I am not allowed to touch it.

 

 

 

A Few Words to Fill a Gap

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We had thunder and lightening yesterday, as i have already noted.  After that we had hours of rain. It rained heavily all night, or at least for the parts I was awake, and it is still raining now, at midday. If you are a plant that needs rain, or a depleted pond, or a duck, this must be great weather. If you live near a river it is, I assume, less good.

It’s an example of how we all live our lives in selfish compartments. I’m lucky enough to live in a fairly hilly country, so we aren’t going to disappear as global sea levels rise, though we may change shape. If I were living in the Maldives, which would probably be a great experience most of the time, I wouldn’t consider myself quite so lucky as my country gradually submerged.

Healthy Salmon. Well, healthy for me. The salmon is looking like it’s beyond the reach of medical aid.

I have varying degrees of sympathy for flood victims. Some, like the people of the Maldives, are blameless victims (or at least as blameless as anyone cn be in these days of consumption and consumerism). People who come on the UK news, complaining that the government should “do something” to stop their house flooding, I have less sympathy for. If you buy a house by a river, this is going to happen. I don’t wish bad things to happen to anyone, but you have to take care of certain things for yourself, and government can’t fix everything. In fact, as we have seen recently, governments can’t fix much. It’s the old bookshelf problem, as the new government squeezes a new policy onto the crowded shelf, something else falls off the end.

It’s like taxing the rich. Good policy – far better than taxing the poor. But as we are already seeing, the rich are a moving target, and if you tax them they will move. And when they move, they take their taxes and their businesses with them and we end up losing out. labour, just like the Tories before them, have the right idea – impose tax on the middle classes. They can’t afford to move, they can’t afford expensive accountants, but they do have money. And, more importantly they can’t afford to give gifts to politicians. I mean, if you scare all the rich people away, who is going to keep Kier Starmer in suits and glasses?

A well known cure for depression and cynicism – you can’t feel bad with fish and chips.

Well, you’ve had Wordless Wednesday and Thankful Thursday, so welcome to cynical Sunday. I am now going away and will try to find a few non-cynical thoughts for a second post.

History Beneath the Surface

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Stir Fry Vegetables

More cauliflower cheese tonight because I roasted an entire cauliflower last night and we couldn’t face the whole thing, despite only having potatoes and sweetcorn with it. We had steak pies, potatoes and mangetout peas tonight. Julia bought a packet of cheese sauce as we had run out fo cheese until more was delivered tonight.

We had a lot of rain tonight, accompanied by over an hour of thunder and lightening, ending up with standing water in the street gutters and, in a street at the bottom of the hill, there was a flood according to the TESCO delivery driver.  They did a lot of work there a few years ago and that was supposed to have cured the localised flooding problem. It clearly hasn’t worked.

There are several car dealerships along that road and it once flooded so fast that several brand new cars floated away from a forecourt.  If I had kept a proper diary for the 35 years I have lived here it would be a bulky document full of historical trivia which would be of no interest to anyone but another collector of historical trivia. The fact that cars floated away, or a cannabis farm was once discovered half a mile away, or that Lawrence of Arabia once passed by the end of the road on his way to see George Brough and take delivery of a new motorcycle.

Haggis and root vegetables

Meanwhile, my former employer did a talk for a Derbyshire based metal detecting club. He had an audience of over 30, many of them being women. When you are used to 20 being a good number at the Numismatic Society, and just one woman, it is a good crowd. many women are active detectorists in that club, and many of the men actually take their wives. I suggested, not for the first time, that Julia might like to accompany me to meetings of the Numismatic Society. It appears, from her terse answer, that she wouldn’t like that at all.

He also went to a local open day at Meditation Centre that was originally built in 1790 by a member of the Smith banking family. He was keen on this as the Smiths are an interest of his, though it can be tricky telling which one is which. He is now, as a result of a chat with the historian giving the talk on the day, much better informed.

The header picture is home made veggie burgers with cauliflower steak from lockdown. Other pictures are also food from lockdown, when it seemed more central to my life.

Stir Fry Vegetables

A Post About Vegetables

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It’s that time of night again, and having got used to relaxing I am having to force myself from a comfortable chair and set to cooking without a plan. The vague notion was “cauliflower cheese”. I thought I might do cauliflower steaks but it started falling apart and so I compromised by roasting two halves. It will be much the same, just not so charred and attractive. But there will be fewer irritating cauliflower bits around the place. They get everywhere!

Tree Gibraltar Point, Lincolnshire - dramatic setting

Tree Gibraltar Point, Lincolnshire – dramatic setting

Sweetcorn and baked potatoes will be the only accompaniment in what is likely to be a disappointing meal. And a small amount of cheese sauce – we seem to have used most of the cheese. My vegetable intake has gone down seriously over the last few weeks and I need to address it.  If I count the berries I had for breakfast as one portion, the cauliflower and sweetcorn only makes three and an apple will make four. That’s one short on my five a day and quite a lot short on the recommendations of many countries, and many scientists. I have let it slip badly over the last few months.

Time, next week, to start clawing my way back to eating better. The first step is planning. Sitting down to order from a list is always likely to result in better meals than pressing buttons as I try to think. That’s why we end up with sausages, pasties, pizzas and quiches so many times. Add a few beans, some potato and a tub of shop coleslaw with a few salad bits, and you are set for the week. It’s neither healthy nor nutritious, but it is filling.

Dabchick, Gibraltar Point, Lincolnshire

Dabchick, Gibraltar Point, LincolnshireIt’s partly to do with being rushed all the time (or disorganised, as it is also known) , and partly to do with being lazy.

I also need to get back to making soup. I’ve been having far too much cheese on toast for lunch. It is fatty, calorific and lacks vegetables, even with tomato or spring onions on top. Soup is much better.

A late butterfly

Pictures are from September 2020 – post apocalypse.

Meinertzhagen, Mincemeat and My Cunning Plan

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Painted Lady Nottingham

Julia thinks I’m hard at work and by now, I expect, thinks that I have done the washing up and am well on my way to compiling the list of things that need doing for the move. She has, I admit, had some help in forming these thoughts.

Having had one of those husband/wife heart to heart chats about how we seem to be making little progress towards moving, I decided I needed to take action.

This took the form of making a list of all the things I need to do, and prioritising them (with her particular concerns near the top of the page). I then left this around the house last night in places I knew she would see it.

It’s not my own idea, it is, as you may know, a similar thing to Meinerzhagen’s Haversack Ruse, or even Operation Mincemeat, though obviously without the submarine or dead body.  Meinerzhagen has come down through history as a liar, fraudster, thief and, possibly a wife murderer, so it’s possible that his story about the haversack could be exaggerated, but it’s a great story. I’m also not a great one for revising history or applying modern perspectives. He may have been a homicidal maniac, a plagiarist and a fantasising self-publicist but he was a good naturalist at one time (as you can see from the fact that he had a wild hog and a genus of bird lice named after him). If it hadn’t been for the ornithological fraud, I wouldn’t have a problem. And the wife. Murdering wives is always wrong. Misleading them with false lists in notebooks is, in case you are wondering, I consider to be a grey area.

Pie from Botham’s of Whitby

In case you don’t want to follow the links – the Haversack Ruse was a plan to mislead the Turks in Palestine about British plans by having an Intelligence Officer allow himself to be almost captured and drop a blood-stained haversack with confidential documents as he escaped. Operation Mincemeat was much the same but more successful.

Photographs from September 2019.

Bee in a Nasturtium. Leaves and flowers are peppery and edible and can be used instead of watercress.