Of the little pleasures in life

I do find as I get older that I have less patience with some things - and, unfortunately, some people - and as a result discover more and more often that I am fast becoming a curmudgeonly old man. But I really not quite as grumpy you might think.  In fact, I'm quite a cuddly soul who appreciates life's little pleasures.  Like this morning when several things, little things in themselves, have combined to make this a wonderful day.

1. I had a lie-in.  I do have a usual-ish sort of time for getting up but some days I have to be up earlier than that and the last two days have been just such occasions.  Tomorrow will be as well.  Indeed, the reason for getting up early tomorrow will probably result in another vitriolic post as I have a meeting with the accountants to Brighton Lions Housing Society to discuss component accounting... But today's post is meant to be a peaon ofpraise for the little pleasures in life so we'll save that for tomorrow.  I was saying that I had a lie-in.  It gave me particular pleasure to press the snooze button not just once, but several times.  When I did eventually give in I lay in bed a few more minutes listening to a wood pigeon calling, probably from the sycamore tree.  It took me right back to my first summer camp with the scouts.  We travelled by train from Kent to Somerset and I remember being surprised to see buildings constructed of stone rather than brick.  It was also the first time I heard the genuine old Somerset accent when a local asked, "Be 'ee goin' to zee Gillingham play this zeason?"  The sun shone every day of that camp and every morning I woke to the sound of wood pigeons.
2. The after-breakfast walk was dry.  OK, there have been several dry walks over the past few days but today just seemed drier than usual, possibly because the mist was less dense than it had been yesterday when it was so thick that it was really drizzle.
3. The are signs that spring will come again.  I have heard a blackbird singing; there are buds on the trees - black on the ash, brown on the elm and green on the sycamore; and the bulbs are bursting through - snowdrops, crocuses, daffodils and even bluebells.  The first leaves of the lords-and-ladies are unfurling.  I have seen a few primroses in sheltered gardens and one neighbour has periwinkle in bloom.  I do like the periwinkle, it's such a delightful shade of blue, but it's not often one sees it these days.  And when was the last time you heard of somebody whose eyes were periwinkle blue?

So there you have it.  Three things, tiny things in the overall scheme of life, but things which have brought me much pleasure this morning.

~~~~~

The time will come again when Stanmer Great Wood is carpeted with bluebells.

Let's hear it for Cuthmann

Did somebody mention heritage?  Well, what follows could, at a pinch, be considered part of the heritage of Sussex.

Cuthmann is generally supposed to have lived in what is now the small town of Steyning and he was a devoted son.  It is said that when his mother became too frail to walk, he pushed her around in a wheelbarrow.  I would have thought that quite an uncomfortable mode of travel but wheelchairs had not then been invented, Cuthmann having lived from about 681 until some time in the 8th century.  Cuthmann was responsible for building St Andrew's church in Steyning where King Ethelwulf of Wessex was buried in 857.

But the story I am about to relate is not to be found in official documents and, indeed, having been passed down the generations by word of mouth, there are several variations of it.

As well as looking after his paralysed mother, Cuthmann would drop by an elderly anchorite lady who lived on top of the South Downs.  One day he was on his way to visit the old lady when he sat on the top of a hill to catch his breath and admire the view, especially liking the number of church towers and spires he could see in the Low Weald in front of him.  Suddenly, the Devil appeared beside him and announced his intention to reclaim Sussex by drowning all the inhabitants.  To do this foul deed, he would dig a trench through the Downs to allow the sea to flow through.

Cuthmann challenged the Devil, saying that if he could dig the trench before the next dawn, he (Cuthmann) would not call upon his Lord to stop the Devil in his work.  It is, of course, well known that the Devil likes a challenge and so he set to work at once.  Cuthmann, meanwhile, walked on to visit the elderly lady.  He suggested to her that she should pray all night in darkness but that an early hour she should place a lighted candle in her window.  The lady agreed and Cuthmann wandered back to watch the Devil at work.

At three o'clock in the morning, the Devil spotted the lighted candle.  Mistaking it for the first hints of dawn, he threw down his shovel and fled the scene, leaving behind him the deep valley now known as the Devil's Dyke.  And to this day the Devil has never been seen again in Sussex.

And there's more

We didn't eat at the Italian last night.  They were booked solid with a party of 45 so we went to one of the local carveries instead.  For £3.79 you get a choice of gammon, turkey, beef (and not mean portions either), cheese & potato pie or beef & onion pie and help yourself to vegetables.  There were peas, carrots, leeks, sprouts, cauliflower, mashed and roast potatoes - and a Yorkshire pudding.  Pretty good value.

Heritage

Two articles that were published on different days in my usual daily read have made me think.  The first was written by a lady whom I have never met but whose name I knew before she became as well-known as she is these days.  I knew her as the editor of the Catholic Herald when I worked for another religious newspaper.  I knew her name is Italian but only recently have I learned that she is indeed Italian by birth although she describes England as "her adopted country".  She related how a guest who stayed with her recently - an American  - had several places on his "to see" list, places like Buckingham Palace, which she said are ignored by we British.  She claimed that what we are really ignoring is our heritage, a heritage of which we should be proud.

The second article seemed to be right out of time as it was basically about the 800th anniversary of King John signing the Magna Carta.  But that won't be until June 2015.  Actually, that was largely the point the writer was making.  Given that Magna Carta was the original Bill of Human Rights and is the basis of the constitution for so many countries - including the USA - he was suggesting that "we" should be planning great things to celebrate this anniversary.  But, he suspects, it will pass with barely a nod from the British people as we tend to ignore such anniversaries.

Personally, I think both writers are wrong - at least in part.  I don't think we English do ignore our heritage.  We visit stately homes, cathedrals and the homes of people like Wordsworth, Hardy and Shakespeare.  We note anniversaries  - look at how the Queen's diamond jubillee was celebrated and there was quite a to-do over the 30th anniversary of the invasion of the Falkland Islands  (and I'm sorry to say that there remains some bitterness over the American attitude to that) and the 60th anniversary of D-Day.  On the other hand, we are so accustomed to many of these things - Magna Carta, habeus corpus, buildings both magnificent and quaint - that we tend to pay them little attention.  Then there is also the fact that the English, by tradition, are a reserved people who don't wear their hearts on their sleeves.  Well, not all the time.  But come the occasion, we are as proud of our heritage as anyone else.  And we probably have better reason.

~~~~~

The mention of Magna Carta reminds me that when we hosted a visit from some American Lions, we arranged a trip to Windsor, stopping off at Runnymede where Manga Carta was signed.  There is a memorial close by which was erected by the American Bar Association.

A lesson reinforced

Yesterday was an expensive experience.  It was on Tuesday that the Old Bat asked me to look at the breadmaker.  We have owned a breadmaker for several years and in all that time have only ever bought bread in France.  We have made ordinary white bread, malt loaves, cheese and bacon flavoured loaves and both brown and white rolls.  But something had gone wrong and She Who Must Be Obeyed was hopeful that I might be able to get the spindle which turns the paddle during the kneading process back where it should be.  Alas, that was beyond my meagre engineering skills and I declared the machine dead.  So yesterday I asked the good lady when she intended making more rolls, and guess what?  It was yesterday.  So I checked the catalogue we have from the local catalogue store and found they sell five different breadmakers, two of them being the brand that SWMBO favours.  The pictures showed that the machines were different and there was £20 difference in the price but nothing in the text explained quite what the difference was.  Nor did I manage to find out from a quick search of the webbynet.  We decided to settle on the cheaper machine and I duly raced up to the store to collect the last one they had in stock.

Having unwrapped the new apparatus, I glanced at the instruction book, which covered both models.  Straight away I saw the main difference: the more expensive model had a feature that was on our old machine and that we did use, a feature called a raisin dispenser.  This automatically puts the raisins into the dough at the right stage when making malt bread or drops in the pieces of bacon when making cheese and bacon bread.  But at least the cheaper model "beeps" to announce that it's time to do the job manually - if one happens still to be around at that time.

(Madam, I hardly need say, decided to postpone bread-making until today - a point which assumed relevance later in the day.)

My afternoon was even more expensive.  I have been aware for some time that the tread on my car's tyres is getting closer and closer to the legal minimum and with the annual MOT due this month as well as the worst months of the winter ahead or us, I decided it was time to bit the bullet and replace them rather than drag matters out for another thousand or two miles.  So, four new tyres, please, and while you're about it, better check the tracking and make the necessary adjustments.  I've driven over a few potholes recently so there's bound to be something wrong there. I did shop around a bit before committing myself and, as a result, managed to get the price down a little but it still set me back £450.

While the tyres were being replaced I wandered up the road and into an electrical store, just to pass the time.  I was tempted by several cameras - 17 megapixel, 30x optical zoom - but kept my wallet in my pocket.  I wandered further and found myself in the small electrical goods area.  There on a shelf were the breadmakers - and I could have bought the more expensive model for less than I had paid for the cheaper one!

So it was not just one lesson reinforced but two:

1. Shop around properly before buying.
2. Once you've bought something, don't look at prices in other stores.

~~~~~

We should have been at Brighton Lions Club's monthly dinner meeting tonight but the guy who arranges where and what we eat has been ill and so the meeting has been postponed until next week.  As the OB had arranged her menus on the basis that we would not be eating at home today, I have offered to take her to our local Italian.  I don't have a picture of that establishment, but can offer this picture of a tiny restaurant in Oppede les Vieux in Provence.  We ate there - outside - in a strong wind.  The meal (daube) was superb although not what we expected.

On matters automotive and other things

After a couple of posts in which I have done little but minge, it's time for a more positive approach and I'm very glad to be able to say that yesterday, New Year's Day, dawned bright and sunny down here on the Sussex coast.  Despite that, I treated myself to a short lie-in and it was ten to eight before my feet found my slippers and I staggered into the bathroom.  It was almost pleasant to walk the dog to the local park, although the paths in the park are still treacherously slippery and some care needs to be taken when walking through the wooded part.

As for the automotive matters, I started up the Old Bat's car the other day, the first time it had been started for more than a month.  I was a little concerned that the battery might have been draining and I wanted to charge it up by driving the car a few miles.  The Old Bat has a Nissan Micra and I have complained that I pay the road tax and insurance amounting to the better part of £400 but she drives only a few hundred miles a year.  The car is 9 years old and although the odometer reads 53,000 miles or so, the true mileage is probably still under 4,000.  The dashboard, which is one complete unit, had to be replaced so the mileage shown is incorrect.  Anyway, she replied that she values the car as it gives her a measure of independence.  I can hardly argue with that.

The car started on the first turn of the key - unlike my son's.  I think it was on Christmas Eve that he found his car dead as the proverbial.  He called is breakdown company (the AA, I believe) and the following conversation ensued when the AA man arrived.

"Have you jump-started another car?"

"Yes."

"That's the cause of the problem.  You mustn't jump start another car with a Mercedes, it mucks up the computer.  I'll have to tow you to a garage."

So son's car spent Christmas in a garage until the spare part could be sourced and helping out a friend cost him cash as well as inconvenience.

~~~~~

Here is my first view - well, almost my first view - from the bedroom window of 2013.

Grumble, grumble, gringe

I know I'm really just a cantankerous old curmudgeon, but I will be glad to have everything get back to normal.  It's not that I don't enjoy Christmas.  Far from it, but my Christmas celebrations span just two days, Christmas Day itself and Boxing Day.  I'm happy enough to accept New Year's Day as a public holiday, but to my mind every day between Boxing Day and New Year's Day - and that includes New Year's Eve - is just another, ordinary day, a working day even.  This probably stems from back when I started work, over half a century ago, in a bank.  We had our two days for Christmas, but then it was back to work with a vengeance.  And 31st December was the worst of those post-Christmas, pre-New Year days.  31st December was (whisper it in the cloisters) Balance Day.  On balance day, everything had to be balanced and double-checked.  This meant that work which would normally be held over until the following morning - like posting the ledgers - had to be completed that evening.  Meanwhile, the tills were balanced and the manager checked the cash in each till.  Then the ledgers had to be balanced.  This involved listing every customer's name and balance, totaling them and seeing that the total agreed with the control.  If it didn't, find out where the mistakes were and correcting them.  And remember, there was no computerisation - all this had to be done by hand, even down to listing customers' balances on enormous sheets of paper.  There were a few adding machines but not enough for everybody. Oh, and ball-point pens were not permitted; "proper" ink only.  When, and only when, everything balanced and we knew how much profit the branch had made that year, we were at liberty.  If we were lucky, it might be as early as 9.30 but 10.00 or 10.30 was much more likely.  Given that we had started work at 9.00am - or even earlier - and had been permitted just our usual one hour lunch break, we were knackered and had no thought of going out celebrating.  Granted, things were much easier after computers were introduced but by then we were a family of four or five and late evenings were very much a no-no.

Things changed subtly after I left the bank and started work as general manager of a small, specialist newspaper company.  We published weekly - and there was almost certain to be an issue due between Christmas and New Year.  Not that I had anything to do with the actual writing or production of the paper, but distribution was one of my responsibilities and the advertisement department was also answerable to me.  No, my main concern was that our financial year end was - you've guessed it - 31st December.  Ours was a small business and I could see no good reason why it should be several months before our accounts were completed and audited (the accounts were my prime responsibility), so I had arranged that the auditors would arrive on 2nd January to start their work.  This meant that I and my two accounts girls had to work pretty fast to get everything up straight, all shipshape and Bristol fashion.

Although it is over ten years since I retired, I still have that mental outlook.  Those days between Boxing Day and New Year's Day are not holidays.  On the contrary, they are some of the busiest days of the year.  Or should be.

~~~~~

Way back in 2006 I produced the first calendar featuring my own photographs.  (Actually, it was in 2005 that I had it printed for 2006.)  This was the picture for January.