Friday, 24 November 2017

The Cure - Friday I'm In Love

I quite liked The Cure, they had just enough style, talent, and lunacy, to appeal to the younger Cro.

Here's Robert Smith and his boys with one of their better songs. I rather like the video too.

Thursday, 23 November 2017


On my daily walks around the immediate area, I'm always on the look-out for Stone-Age tools or buried treasure. I check the mounds left by Moles, and I walk across newly ploughed fields. I have found one or two ancient artifacts, but the cache of Roman gold coins still eludes me.

Rather like mushroom hunting, one doesn't look for the object itself, but for colour and form.

Yesterday whilst walking across a harvested Maize field, I came across the above. All I could see was that it was flat thin and round. I was convinced I'd found my first gold coin.

Having given the piece a good wash, I find that it is no more than a One Franc coin from 1941 (it's older than I am; a true antique).

As I do with all such coins, I shall find a crack in one of the ancient house beams, and force it in. Maybe by the time it's found again, it might be worth a few centimes!

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

Lady Magnon's Big Day In.

It's the time of year when Lady Magnon assembles all the ingredients for her Magnificent Mincemeat.

All sorts of different dried fruits, candied peels (no green bits, thank you), suet, apples, citrus fruits, dark brown sugar, and armagnac, are all being bought and stored, ready for the big moment.

The biggest mixing bowl has made its appearance, and the special extra-large wooden spoon has been found and washed.

I try to make a point of being absent when the process begins. Lady M doesn't appreciate an audience (or even helpful advice from onlookers). 

Here is what she ended-up with. I had a stir (clockwise only) and a wish.

I can't wait for that first Mince Pie; I'll have to start thinking what I'll wish for next.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Where are they?

Do you know where your children are at all times? No, nor do I, not that mine are really 'children' any more.

My oldest is on business in Singapore. Facebook informs me that he is at Raffles, enjoying a few Gin Slings.

Well, someone has to keep them busy!

Have fun Kimbo!

Monday, 20 November 2017

Paquador vs England

To celebrate that People's Favourite 'Brighton and Hove Albion' are now at No 8 in the Premiership league table (ahem), I am offering this genuine video for all true Football fans to enjoy.

Paquador v England.

Sunday, 19 November 2017

A Sunday rant.

FORTY-BLOODY-FIVE years I've lived in my tiny hamlet; forty three of which were spent in perfect peace, quiet, and harmony. I've owned two different houses here, (and another a few miles away), but when I started to make our present one livable-in, we were assured by neighbours that our tranquility was GUARANTEED; local by-laws totally forbade anyone from building new homes here.

At the time I had just two lots of neighbours. Immediately next door (100 yards away) were a pair of Parisian, Zen Buddhist, Lesbians, who were a total delight. And the other house (another 100 yards further away) was owned by a man and his elderly mother who spent just a couple of weeks a year here.

Since then all of my original neighbours have died off, and I am left surrounded by those who have arrived since; I feel like the last of an era. I bought, and restored, my ruined cottage for it's simplicity, beauty, and tranquility, but even though we try to live a quiet life, there are always those who try to see that we don't.

Over recent years we have faced some really bizarre behaviour, but now we are facing possibly the worst of the lot. We are to have a holiday village plonked right on our bloody doorstep, and we are supposed to be grateful.

27 (probably rowdy) holidaymakers will soon be disturbing our Summer's peace and quiet; 27 of a type who are prepared to holiday in buried shipping containers, whoever that might be.

In the photo above you might just be able to see the roof of a barn. My youngest son owns the barn next to it (slightly further to the right) so you can imagine his proximity to the holiday camp. The huge mounds of earth show where the old shipping containers will be semi-buried.

The 'newcomer' who wishes to start this holiday camp is surprised (angry even) that all the surrounding residents are against his plans. He doesn't seem to understand that once our treasured tranquility has gone; it will be gone for ever.

We bought our homes for the peaceful bucolic ambiance they afforded; he bought his with the surreptitious intention of bringing in loads of effing holidaymakers. I can hardly explain how bloody mad I am. He arranged an explanatory meeting recently; I couldn't even face seeing him.

The most recent newcomer to our tiny hamlet (a Brit) bought his small converted barn just a year or so ago, and now finds that he is to have a semi-underground trailer park right behind his house. He is understandably furious. No-one had said a word to him about it as he was completing his purchase. I feel more sorry for him than I do for any of the others; including myself.

The would-be holiday camp owner has already fitted several inappropriate fittings to his beautiful ancient home, including an awful 1950's door, and a striped awning; one can only imagine what more horrors are to come. I do wish he would just bugger off, buy himself a more suitable secluded property, and leave us all in the peace that we so covet.

Some people just couldn't give an effing damn about their neighbours! Money is god!

Saturday, 18 November 2017

Mouse Season.


Regularly at this time of year, Lady Magnon becomes obsessed by Mice. She imagines that every Mouse within a 20 Km radius is heading for the house, in order to spend the Winter with us in relative comfort.

I am instructed to set traps, plug holes, and gather gallons of Cat urine to discourage their ambitions.

She had a dream recently about a group of laughing Mice on top of our kitchen cupboards; I was of course blamed for their Morpheus induced incursion.

Freddie catches quite a few, but we've already had one in the house recently; luckily he was soon dispatched.

Mice have the whole of France to play in; be warned, WE DON'T WANT YOU IN THE HOUSE.

Now, where's that Mousetrap and some Peanut Butter? I'm told that Peanut Butter is irresistible to Mice.

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