Now that's what I call value

A Lions' dinner meeting yesterday evening.  We use a different venue each month and this month all was arranged at the last minute as personal problems had interfered for the guy who deals with this.  Anyway, we met at an Italian restaurant in the centre of town.  I opted for a 3-course meal at £8.95: prawn cocktail, rigatone al amatriciana, lemon sorbet.  Espresso for £1.50 and a bottle of house wine £6.95 on production of the advert from the local paper.  The Old Bat's stawberries had a £1.25 supplement and I think her cappucino was £1.75.  And the servings were standard size - which means they weren't small by any means.  Total cost: about £30 for the two of us, half what we paid the other Saturday and the food was just as good.  The company was equally good as well.  All in all a good evening.

Words to inspire (3)

My next selection is also from an American.  I'm sure no reader from the US will need me to say that these words come from the inaugural address of President John F Kennedy.

Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage—and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this Nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

~~~~~

Here we go again.  A phone call from my credit card issuing bank to advise that mine is one of a batch of card numbers that have been unlawfully obtained from an online retailer.  My card has therefore been cancelled as a precaution and a replacement card will be issued in 6-7 working days.  What a pain.  I think this is the fourth time but at least this time there have been no fraudulent transactions as there were on one occasion.  But it will be a nuisance having to do without the plastic for a couple of weeks.

~~~~~


A couple of months before our Tuscany trip, the Old Bat and I had spent a few days in Venice.  Now Venice, with all its canals, probably has more bridges per head of population than anywhere else, except perhaps for Amsterdam.  This is the Bridge of Sighs, linking the interrogation rooms in the Doge's palace with the prison, hence its name.

Words to inspire (2)

I really am reluctant to place these speeches in any sort of order as they are all so inspiring, albeit perhaps in different ways.  However, man is always looking to see what or who is "best", to place things in order of preference.  And so I feel that this speech by Martin Luther King comes into my top five inspirational speeches at number four.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

~~~~~

We (that's the royal "we", you understand. In other words "me" or "I".) interrupt our series of bridge photos to show you this morning's view from the bedroom, which I think particularly attractive.

Words to inspire

The other day Suldog posted that beautiful passage from St Paul's epistle to the Corinthians.  Such inspiring words.  I have provided a link instead of retyping (or copying and pasting).  It made me think about other inspiring words, especially speeches, and I thought to draw up a list of the five speeches (or passages of words, prose or poetry) that I find the most inspirational.

Two passages from Shakespeare immediately sprang to mind, both of the from Henry V.  The speech ending, "Cry God for Harry England and St George" was my first thought, closely followed by a speech earlier in the play including the words, "And gentlemen of England now abed will think themselves accursed they were not here".  I'll go with my first thought.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

The fourth-placed speech tomorrow.

~~~~~

Several years back the Old Bat and I holidayed in Tuscany.  We could not miss out on a visit to Florence and duly caught a train, our genial hosts having warned against trying to drive.  Neither of us are really ones for art galleries so there was no question of traipsing round looking for David.  And, frankly, Florence was not for me - far too many people, hustle and bustle and big city drive.  OK, the cathedral is something else, and the doors to the baptistry are magnificent.  Then, of course, there is the famous Ponte Vecchio over the River Arno.  Over-crowded and shops full of tourist tat.  No thanks - but here is a picture taken from along the river bank.

 And the crowds!

A funny old day

I'm absolutely certain that the weather girl on the television late last night promised us a sunny day but so far - it's just coming up to 10.00 - there's no sign of that golden orb.  Just grungy low cloud with a hint of dampness.  And I have a nasty feeling that weather thingy over on the right has changed as well.  Oh well.

I thought when I got up that this seemed like a better day on the arthritis front.  I was moving around rather more easily and I even managed to open a new bottle of milk with my bare hands.  That might sound odd but over the last few weeks my hands have not been doing quite what they are meant to do and I have resorted to using a mole wrench to unscrew the top of new bottles.  But after I had collected the Old Bat from the garage where she had taken her car for servicing and the keep-your-fingers-crossed annual test, things had gone downhill quite drastically and I am now only just mobile.  Which is a bit of a bugger as I particularly wanted to be able to get about today.

It is now almost two months since I was last down the garden.  By the way, our garden slopes downhill quite steeply and also slopes downhill from right to left just to make things more interesting.  There is a steep bank about a third of the way down which I turned into a rockery many years ago.  Above and below the bank are lawns and flower borders.  I say "lawns" but the grass is now a foot high or more.  The bottom lawn is also covered with the dog's calling cards which I have been unable to clear up.  I have finally given way to a fellow Lion who has been badgering me to let him come and clear up the lawn and he is due to arrive at any time.  I hate the thought of me sitting indoors while he is doing such an unpleasant job in my garden, which is why I wanted to be more active today.  But beggars can't be choosers so I shall just have to put up with it.

~~~~~

Staying in France just a little longer, this bridge is where my car broke down earlier this year.  I had often wanted to take a picture of the view but would have preferred to go without!  And now I can't for the life of me remember the name of the viaduct.  It's on the A28 near Bernay, in case anyone is remotely interested, and the view is quite spectacular.

Peaches and cream

Do you remember that old song in which Mr Sandman was implored to bring the singer a dream and to "make her complexion like peaches and cream"?  We had peaches and cream for dessert the other evening and, frankly, a girl with a complexion like that would be a nightmare rather than a dream.  The peaches and cream of my childhood would be no better.  Nowadays the only peaches eaten in our house are fresh ones and the cream is real cream but in the wayback things were different.  OK, I'm talking 60 years ago and things certainly were different then.

We - that is me, my brother and my mother; my father was probably at sea - would sometimes be invited to tea by my grandmother.  The table was always laid with a special cloth and the best tea plates were in evidence.  There would be a plate of bread and butter slices and we would be expected to eat at least two, spread with home-made jam, before the special treat.  Those teas always ended with peaches and cream being served.  Of course, being 60 years ago my grandmother had special fruit dishes and special fruit spoons.  I suppose they can still be found but I don't know of anybody who has them, let alone uses them.  The peaches were tinned peach slices and tasted completely different from the fresh fruit to which we have become accustomed.  Maybe fresh peaches just could not be bought?  Or were too expensive?  I don't know why but tinned fruit was much more popular back then than it is now.  And the cream wasn't cream; it was evaporated milk out of a tin - Carnation brand probably.  Still, we thought it was a treat and that's all that counts.

I mentioned a special tablecloth.  This had been embroidered by my favourite aunt, Grace, Gran's daughter.  Grace was an expert embroiderer and this tablecloth was a fine example of the art.  It was, I think, hexagonal in shape and just in from the edge there was a garden scene running right round the cloth, flowers of all descriptions together with the occasional lady in a poke bonnet.  Outside that were embroidered the words of a poem:

A GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot —
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not —
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign Tis very sure God walks in mine.

My grandmother still had that tablecloth when she died  - rather surprisingly in view of what happened - and it passed to my mother.  On her death, I acquired it as a memento of those long-gone days and my favourite aunt.

I don't even remember now why Grace was my favourite aunt.  She worked in Athens for one of the agencies which was to become part od the United Nations - or maybe already was a UN agency - and would send us exotic presents such as my first pistachio nuts or minature Greek soldiers in their skirts and pompom shoes.  When on leave she would sometimes take us to lunch in department store restaurants where elderly ladies dressed in black and with white aprons and headdresses served brown Windsor soup.

Nobody now knows what caused the rift but Grace cut herself off completely from the rest of the family.  She had married in Athens with none of the family at the wedding - too expensive - and we knew she had a daughter, Hilary.  It was only three years ago, after Grace's death, that Hilary discovered anything about her mother's family and that she had cousins.  The Old Bat and I meet up with her once a year and I have tried to give her some idea of what her maternal grandparents were like.

Just before our last meeting I rediscovered that tablecloth which I had quite forgotten.  I gave it to Hilary and I just hope it means something to her.  It felt almost as though I was taking it back to its home.

~~~~~

Before we leave southern France I can't resist another look at that magnificent piece of engineering, the Millau viaduct.

White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits

Nobody seems to know just how the superstition (for it is superstition rather than tradition) started - nor, even, just what should be said or when.  Some say the words should be "black rabbits", others that white rabbits are for March only with just rabbits for other months.  But the concensus seems to be that the words must be the first words one utters on the first day of the month to ward off bad luck.  Me, I'm never sufficiently conscious on any day to know what the date is or to think of uttering a strange incantation.

I wonder if schoolboys still say, like we did in my younger days, "A pinch and a punch for the first of the month and no returns of any kind".  It was important to remember the embargo on returns or one was likely to receive "a punch and a kick for being so quick".

So here we are on 1st September - two-thirds of the way through the year.  Already!  Being the first Saturday of the month, Brighton Lions are holding their book fair at Lions Dene.  I was on the duty rota for setting up and clearing away but cried off as we had planned to be travelling south today, through Picardy and Normandy to the Pays de la Loire and our getaway cottage.  That was the plan until a week or so ago when I accepted what the Old Bat had already decided: the journey would be too uncomfortable.  All plans went on hold for a few weeks in the hope that this bout of arthritis will have cleared by then.  So I cn go to the book fair after all and try to find some suitable reading material for when we do manage to cross the Channel.

~~~~~

Somewhat newer than yesterday's bridge, this railway viaduct is also in the Ardeche.  I knew we had to cross this valley and when I first saw the bridge my heart sank.  I don't much like heights of that nature.  Then I realised it was a now disused railway, presumably built in the mid- to late-nineteenth century.  We drove underneath it and that was bad enough!