Monthly Archives: December 2025

Happy New Year Everybody

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Squirrel on the fence – we now regularly see two or three at a time. They eat from the trays and go, as the rest of the food is kept in cages.

Yes, not a very imaginative title, but that’s just how I am. I would have refrained from using it but WP is playing up and not sending greetings to people when I try to answer comments. I wonder if this is a sign of things to come and Russian hackers are responsible for the regular problems we now experience with internet services. Or Chinese or Iranian hackers.

Eleven years on WordPress and this is my least productive year apart from the first one, which was only a couple of months.

I’ve always thought that the farm years were the best ones on the blog, with loads of photos, cute animals, a worthwhile occupation and interesting subjects. I was wrong, when I look at the figures. The best year was 2017, the year I was off work. I posted more and had my best ratio of likes to posts. Things were reasonable whilst I was in the shop. 2020 allowed more time for posting but in 2022 my posting started to fall away and my likes ratio went down alarmingly. It was 23 likes per post in 2017, fell to 18 by 2021, and in 2022 fell to 12, despite good posting numbers. I only managed 8.5 likes per post in 2025.

Squirrel in MENCAP gardens, Wilford

It’s probably just that I’m becoming dull, but I must try to do something about it. Apart from becoming dull (look at the third paragraph of this post for an example), I have been ill and have also written a lot of other stuff and, with a lack of time, I have stopped reading and commenting as much as I used to. Somewhere in all that, there is an answer.

So, in addition to more submissions next year I am going to do try to become a better blogger. I’m not quite sure how to go about that, but can hopefully come up with an idea by tomorrow.

Until then, enjoy the celebrations, or sleep through them if that is your preferred option, and I will see you all next year.

Squirrel at Rufford

 

The Bald Man Diaries

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Julia by the Canal

It has been a long time since I had an electric shaver, but the special head shaving shaver Julia bought me for Christmas has been excellent. I cut my hair a few weeks before Christmas (she let me have it early) and after initially taking my hair back to the scalp with my normal trimmer I have been able to render myself bald and tidy without a problem ever since.

It is so much easier than finding all my shaving gear, lathering up my head, contorting my arms to reach the tricky bits and, once in a wile, having to saunch the bleeding. Modern wet razors are very good and I am a a careful man so blood is not obligatory, but it always a fear. That is why I tend to be an enthusiastic shaver for a few weeks then let it grow for a year or so after that, until it becomes long, straggly and slightly sinister.

I tend not to take selfies at that point as I look like the school janitor in so many horror movies, or the barber in the Westerns who betrays the marshal to the gunman.

I have been wondering, since staring to use it, where all the hair goes, as not much seems to come out when I brush it.  I thought it might be like cutting a lawn. If you give grass two light cuts a week you don’t need to clear it up and it does not build up thatch. However, it seemed unlikely as hair clippings aren’t going to mulch down. So I had a good root about with the brush and a toothpick. It seems the clippings pack down really small, and there are, once you get going, more places to hide than you think there are.

Julia, Sutton-on-Sea

That’s not all I have done, to be fair. I have finished off twenty poems that form this months submissions. I planned my time better this month and had a few things ready weeks in advance, though some needed fine tuning today. This is still 24 hours better than usual, so I am feeling more relaxed, and quietly pleased with myself.

I am now gathering my resources for a week of writing about numismatics before getting back to poetry.

There was an interesting programme on about Geoff Capes tonight. He was, amongst other things, World’s Strongest Man twice, an Olympic athlete and an internationally known breeder of budgies. He was also a local man and I remember seeing him when he was a policeman in Peterborough. We ate a takeaway curry as we watched. The curry was delivered from a kitchen based in a pub where I used to drink nearly 50 years ago. At that time we had chip shops and a couple of Chinese takeaways in town. It never occurred to me that we would end up with dozens of restaurants operating a delivery service. Times change.

Julia on the patio

As the year draws to a close, it is good to count your blessings, which is the reason for the photos.

 

Reading About Myself in Google

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Robin

I’ve just been checking myself on Google. It’s not a pursuit for the faint-hearted or the modest.

I am, it seems,  a prominent British haibun poet and my work is frequently published in leading haiku and haibun journals where it is a regular fixture in journals like Contemporary Haibun Online, Drifting Sands Haibun, and the Wales Haiku Journal. Another entry records that I am a contemporary writer known for my haibun, often featured in journals like Contemporary Haibun Online, where my works explore everyday observations, life changes, and poignant reflections on subjects like old mills, cormorants, funerals, and war-torn landscapes, showcasing my keen eye for detail and emotional depth within short, evocative pieces. 

It then cites a  Guardian article about me and has a line that says “AI responses may include mistakes”

They are not wrong about that.

Robin

The Simon Wilson in the Guardian is younger than me, better groomed, more successful and, above all, Australian.

There are many Simon Wilsons spread around the place, including several who are poets or journalists, so there is plenty of room for confusion. However, much of what they say is factually accurate even though it has been fashioned into something capable of giving a misleading picture of me and my work. “Prominent” and “fixture” are both pushing the boundaries of accuracy, to be fair, and some of the other stuff is rather flattering too. However it’s nice to see AI in action. I am now aware that it has been programmed to add a veneer of sophistication and success to our achievements and, as such will definitely be taking over the world. It’s easy to resist an evil genius, but far harder to be cynical about flattery. Who doesn’t like to be described as “prominent” and “a regular fixture”? I can already feel myself beginning to admire AI for its good taste.

Robin in the Garden Centre cafe

 

 

 

Too Much Time to Think

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Snowy Detail

I have had plenty of time to let my mind freewheel over Christmas and my thoughts, when not connected to food, TV or being a gracious host, have turned to founding a new religion.

It’s quite clear that a lot of the old ones have not quite lived up to their initial promise, and the newest religion in the UK, which appears to be Jedi, has been lifted from a film franchise and probably has copyright issues. It has also been turned down for charitable status in the UK.

I’m not quite sure what the main thrust of our doctrine will be. I grew up in a world where Protestants and Catholics were killing each other and have “progressed” to a world where Jews, Muslims and Christians are still fighting.  It’s not good and we really should stop.

So, Rule Number One – stop killing people. Or if you want it slightly more Biblical – thou shalt not blow up they neighbour’s house. Particularly if it’s in a different country.

Robin at Clumber, Nottinghamshire

There will probably be more as time goes on, but if we get that one right we won’t be doing too badly. It will involve a bit of rewriting, taking all the best bits from other religions, probably lighten up on the oxen coveting, but come down heavily of reality TV. We can do without it.

My church, my rules.

Then there is the question of prayer wheels. I think we should have them. I also think they should be turned by hamsters. Obviously, if we attend any multi-faith events we will have to watch out for Americans with snakes, but apart from that it should be no problem, and the Youth Wing will love them.

Our main Festival will be on a weekend in summer, making it easier to shop and cutting down on the necessity to stock up. If there’s no Christmas rush and no shutting of shops., you can just nip out and  buy anything you have forgotten.

Pom-pom Christmas Wreath

 

 

 

End of the Egg Crisis

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Christmas Stamps

Christmas Stamps

The Egg Crisis has passed. After giving it some thought I tried again. We’d put six in the fridge still in their shells and five of them ended up being fit to use. They are currently in the fridge pickling away, along with some others that I boiled and shelled with no problem. I had intended doing half with chilli and half with plain vinegar, but I put the crushed chillies in at the beginning and, as usual, the first lot of vinegar lasted for two jars. Note to self – next time do the plain ones first then add crushed chilli. Unless I decide chilli is the way to go. I’m quite keen on adding crushed chillis to pickled onions as it does liven them up – not to sure about pickled eggs but will find out soon.

Another note to self – when boiling chilli flakes in vinegar don’t breathe the steam. It took about half an hour for me to stop coughing. and an hour before my eyes stopped watering.  The annoying thing is that I know better – I just forgot.

Anyway, the good news is that our stock of hard-boiled eggs is down to manageable levels. A vegetarian kedgeree and some egg sandwiches should see them off by Christmas.

Christmas Chutney

Julia went shopping with my sister yesterday, picking up the food orders from M&S – just a few vegetarian bits and a cheeseboard. We have far too much cheese. However, it will keep for New Year. I’m having vegetarian roast for Christmas Dinner, Julia and Number One Son will have turkey. Number One Son’s Partner, who will become Number One Daughter in Law next spring (I really could do with some shorter aliases for people) will have a choice. I hope she has the veggie option so there will be plenty of turkey left for sandwiches as I intend having turkey sandwiches several times over the holidays.

The week between Christmas and New Year is my favourite week of the year – the week where I have turkey sandwiches most days and can be idle without feeling guilty. OK, there’s a bit of cooking and washing up to do but not much else. And yes, I can actually idle most of my year away without feeling guilty, as Julia has just pointed out. – I’m lucky that way. I lack the gene which makes Julia jump up and down doing things when she should be relaxing. However, in this particular week it’s even easier to feel relaxed about idling.

I just lostthe entire post but managed to get a lot of it back. I still have about 350 words missing but will see if |I can get them back later. Julia is back from the cafe, the kettle is on and Christmas is about to start.

Have a good one. I will try to pop back later and find the rest of the words.

Pom-pom Christmas Wreath

Four Days Later

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Where does the time go? My good intentions simply cannot cope with the power of procrastination and melt away when exposed to reality – as effective as the proverbial chocolate teapot.

Big news of the day is that after due legal process in the USA, despite the courts being stuffed with presidential nominees, the Epstein Files were published. And all the useful bits had been redacted. Words like mockery and farce come to mind.

Quiche

That’s my concession to the serious news in the outside world. Future readers take note – I do realise there is other news about, I just don’t bother with it. Our big news is the hard-boiled eggs disaster. We boiled 16 eggs to make pickled eggs (two jars of six, plus four as back-ups. It was a bit last minute because I’d been putting it off, and when we started on the eggs they peeled badly and were unusable.

Older eggs are supposed to peel better than fresh eggs but these were old, and they peeeled badly. It may be that they were too old, as I haven’t been baking much recently.

We just had an egg mayonnaise sandwich for lunch and I am thinking about what to do with the others. You can keep them in the fridge for a week, but that still  means eating a lot of hard-boiled eggs over the next seven days. Eggs, I like. But I like them scrambled or in an omelette, or, as often happens, a cross between the two. I really don’t relish the idea of a relentless succession of eggs that are all cooked the same way.

At the moment we don’t have any suitable fish, so it looks like we might be having vegetarian kedgeree, egg salad and more sandwiches in the run up to Christmas.

We normally have snacks on Christmas Eve to get us in the holiday mood. Could it be sandwiches?

(I suggested hard-boiled egg quiche but Julia vetoed the idea.)

More Quiche

Photos are all badly lit examples of how to eat eggs. 🙂

 

Plans and Plausibility

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Boiling the ingredients

Well, I did make he cauliflower soup I was planning, and it went well. The situation at the moment is that I can get a cauliflower for £1.20 or a large cauliflower for £2. You get more than twice as much cauli if you order the big one so it’s much better value, as long as you don’t mind cauli for three meals.

I have not yet got round to the pickled eggs because I can’t face the thought of peeling all the eggs. I need 12, so I will add at least three more to allow for breakages (and possibly a few more so we can have sandwiches) and it becomes a mountain of eggs to peel.

But I did settle down to do the writing plan. So far I have 93 things listed, and probably still have another 20 to do. It includes some new forms I have tried before, and makes a regular feature of magazines I have only tried a few times. Allowing for sloth and disorganisation and rejection, I can probably manage to keep up the numbers, and if I keep up the quality I can probably get the same results as this year despite the loss of a couple of magazines. At that point I ask myself why I didn’t try harder last year.

When I remember why, I despair about my memory. I was ill at the beginning of the year, and Julia was injured. Strange how easily I forget. The key is obviously to stay healthy. I was going to try that anyway, as five days in hospital is not the sort of experience I want to repeat. It’s a Burns sort of moment here – “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley, / An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, / For promised joy”

Before the addition of Stilton cheese

That sums up the pain of planning – things often go wrong. However, what is certain is that if you don’t plan you will end up with nothing but a pile of regrets. I’ve done that often enough. I wonder what I will be saying at this time next year.

Other than that I spent much of the day watching TV as I couldn’t find the enthusiasm to work while Julia was out wood turning, I then sorted out various medical things, including appointments (my blood clotting is now back on course and I am back to monthly testing) and insurance. I had been putting off the insurance. I was, as I feared, trapped in a labyrinth of customer service bots and had to give my information four times before they connected me to a human. Even then, it didn’t go well, though it is at least sorted. and I don’t need to worry about it.

Brooches from WW1 – cost 1 shilling and 6 pence in 1914.

The latest two articles on the website of the Peterborough Military History Group are a summary of military sweetheart brooches (where I noted a typo and several places where I could have written better) and one on the Home Guard training school at Osterley Park. It was quite an impressive place – set up by an ex-member of the International Brigades and associated with George Orwell. That led me to browse the International Brigades and George Orwell, then into his diaries. The bits I read are much more historic than my equivalents. He was writing during the Battle of Britain, though he still managed to discuss his income tax affairs in one entry, so even well-known diarists still have trivia in their diaries. It was a pleasant interlude, during which I discovered that James Robertson Justice (Sir Lancelot Spratt in the Doctor films), once played professional ice hockey between the wars, fought in the International Brigades and was invalided out of the Royal Navy with a shrapnel wound in 1943. And this was just the tip of the iceberg of the life of a man I always thought of as a supporting actor in comedy films. Time spent with Orwell and a network of Wiki links, is never wasted.

I am now going to send Christmas cards to my cousins. I always think I should sprinkle them with wit and good cheer, but will probably settle, as I normally do, for expressing the hope that they are staying well and will have a good 2026. I normally start thinking in November, and finally get round to it about now – close to the last posting date. Such is my life.

Badges on Mother of Pearl discs – WW! and WW2

Pickled Eggs and Gingerbread

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Biscuits

I started off by writing a post called “Things I Wish I’d Done”. By the time I’d done 150 words I’d depressed myself and, if I’d published it, would probably have spread this depression round. It is currently dispersing itself in cyber space, a selection of pixels slowly growing smaller a bits flake off. The only thing that survives is the title and a memory, but the way my brain is going, the memory will be gone fairly soon.

That’s the beauty and the tragedy of memory. Long term memory survives (which is why my Dad could still beat me at dominoes when he was over 90 and suffering with dementia). The tragedy is that you can remember all your mistakes with painful clarity. But you can’t do anything about it.

Anyway, enough about memories. I bet you’re wondering how far I got with my planning for next year. Having said that, anyone who has read this blog before isn’t going to be expecting too much. In fact, my dedication to procrastination is so pronounced that I’ve just been tidying my desk rather than getting down to any actual work.

Peppermint creams in preparation

The facts of this morning are that I got up, started work just before 8.00, wrote a post I deleted, looked at a few comments, checked emails, had breakfast, decided to have some toast, made coffee, washed up, watched birds and squirrels, sat at the desk, tidied desk, paid some bills and finally wrote something. As you are probably already thinking – it wasn’t worth the build-up.

I’m off to boil some eggs and make cauliflower soup now. I’m doing a dozen pickled eggs for Christmas – six ordinary, six with chilli. That should see us through to New Year and after that I intend trying to make a new recipe a week and try to bake every week. That, as you may have noticed, has no bearing on my poetry plans for 2026. I did however, write about baking in a poem I had published in Contemporary Haibun Online.

I had the title for years, because I’d used it for a blog. It looks like I had the title for nine years, in fact. It took me starting to bake again before I found a poem to go with it. It’s not even original, I pinched it from The General of the Dead Army by Ismail Kadare.

Look at that, an effortless slide from biscuits to Albanian novelists. Makes you wonder what this blog is coming to, doesn’t it? There was a time it was all compost, alternative toilets and sausages. Those were the glory days when I was trying to make the world a better place. Now I’m just happy if the world is still there when I wake up in the morning.

Poppies and corn wreath

 

A Plan is Born

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Plans for next year include writing more, writing better, managing my time and, most importantly, finding new markets. I’ve done over 80 articles on coins and related subjects but they have all been published in the lower levels of society journals.  I don’t want to be rude about them, but it’s not really a challenge getting into something where you are one of two regular contributors and they are read by about six people.

The situation with the articles is that I am either going to have to up my game or stop writing them and use the time for something else. In my first stint as a poet I wrote for new magazines and those known to be easier to get into. It produced results, but when I restarted a few years ago I aimed for the better quality magazines. It has gone quite well and I feel like I have produced something worth doing.

Next year, instead of producing 85+ articles for society Facebook pages and the like, I want to appear at least 12 times in magazines which pay and the journals of the more serious  kind. I think 12 is realistic, just as 50 (again) is realistic for poetry.  That’s why the target is now set at 60 and 15 – there’s no point in sitting back and feeling complacent. At the same time, I still want to support the societies I’m in but I’m going to reduce my output to around 50. I’ve asked other people to help but they haven’t responded, or have made excuses, and they can’t complain if I do other things.

Photo by Roman Koval on Pexels.com

That, of course, is the easy bit. I now have to work out how I’m going to manage my time and actually achieve the targets. That’s the trouble with planning to write more – the first day or two will be taken up with planning. And I just remembered that one of the regular magazines has pulled out.  That will be six fewer slots to aim for.

I will, to be honest, simply send more poetry out and develop a new range of work. I’ve never done a haiga, for instance, which is a photograph with a haiku. Nor have I ever tried any of the linked forms where you put haiku or tanka together to form longer poems. It also feels like time to get back into free verse. And there you go – a plan is born.

Orange Parker Pen

Using the pen pictures reminds me once again that my efforts at product placement have not met with much success. Either that or my complimentary Parker pen has been lost in the post.

Next year I may lower my sights a bit and use pictures of snack food.

 

Some Thoughts of a Retired Gent

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Tufted Duck

It’s a bit nippy this morning but the heating is on and I have plenty of clothes, so it’s not going to be a problem.  Christmas, which is coming rapidly, is always a time to think about people sleeping rough and that leads on to thoughts of refugees. It’s a privilege to go to sleep at night with the knowledge that in the morning your roof will still be there. That’s not something you can rely on if you live in Gaza or Ukraine.

So, this morning, I’m not going to complain about faulty Amazon deliveries or the iniquities of our local Post Office, which are both at the forefront of my mind.  When I moved to Peterborough I thought of changing my monthly donations to local charities dealing with the homeless, because dad and mum used to volunteer for the local soup kitchen. I had a look at the website details of the local soup kitchen this morning but decided to donate to one of the associated charities that gets people off the streets. In a way, I feel like it’s the easy way out, but I’m not sure I’d be a lot of use making sandwiches or serving drinks all night.

Goosander male

Meanwhile, as I sat and watched a bit of TV with my morning coffee, I watched Fake or Fortune, an episode on musical instruments. Establishing provenance should have been a piece of cake compared to some of the paintings they research, as they only needed to go back to the 1960s. However, nobody seemed to be able to remember back to the 1960s and 70s, so it all petered out without a positive identification. The laws of libel probably prevent me commenting on the causes of this amnesia.

Despite the title, these aren’t all the thoughts I have had today. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to put in tonight’s coleslaw, for instance, plus “What was that?” (it was a picture falling off the wall after Julia had straightened it) and “Why didn’t I make a note last time?” when I had to order new bags for the kitchen bin. It’s a busy place, my head, though not necessarily as orderly as I would like it to be.

Photos are water birds from December 2016.

Mallard drake