keeping score

It is stupidly/seriously hot in this corner of the county and has been for days. Cups of tea are not the answer, but necessary.
The plants too are thirsty so have to spend ages dangling a hose or hefting watering cans.
At first it is peaceful listening to the evening bird song, but soon I gets sweaty and fractious. I start looking for mischief, mostly the evil white male cat [un-neutered] that has been terrorising Agamemnon and possibly Hattie the dog.
A good hoseful may make him change his visiting habits to steal Aggers meal and run round the curtains when I try to remonstrate.
Hurray Ghana have just scored, I do hope they win, sadly Mr Murray did not win, but at least he played well. How any of them can run around in heat I fail to comprehend, but it is nice to see manly thighs glistening with sweat.
We have been invited to a local hustings next week for Ed Balls but I doubt we will go, too boring him - and us.
It seems Ed Milliband sends his love too, I wonder if Diana will sweep thru the barley anytime soon. The fields are marvellously golden,
and one field is even pale blue - I think that must be potatoes.
The sun was so relentless we had to devise a Hatty the dog walk as much under the trees as possible, so we came upon the Boats graveyard, not seen for a while. Presumably there is a serial killer abroad as there are several extra hulks.

"They" are extending The Hard so that the Thames barges can come in for repair. This is a bit of a turn around as not many years ago the local residents were complaining about the noise and insisting the dry dock be moved up stream. I guess people have moved on, or been persuaded or taken hostage, whatever.

Ghana have lost on penalties.

going public

Stormed up the A14 to Art Gallery yesterday to take my "Tracey" for a whirl.
She is to be judged, and probably found wanting. This rural county is awash with artists, tho I rarely meet them, too intimidating, so i expect my angry stitching about women's eating habits won't get wall space.
However nothing ventured.....one day I will have my own exhibition of all my angry women.
It's like that old tree in the forest, if no-one hears it fall, did it happen? Yes yes i know that's pretentious rubbish,of course it did but it kind of explains the wish to show ones work. If no-one sees it, is it art?
It is much too hot today for thinking philosophical conundrums anyway.
Funnily enough I haven't actually shown it to anyone, anonymous showing is what I crave.

Had a lovely corn beef hash with Victoria on the way back.

stag at bay

very hot again today. Hattie and RP have tottered off bravely to bake in the sun while I irritably fiddle with the Gossiping Goddesses, just over a week to get everything finished for the exhibition.
I can't wait to get this stuff off my back, I really am in a ratty mood.
The Teepee has appeared on the green, it is 7 metres tall, and apparently the constructors are just trying it out before they attempt their 12 metre one. The poles have to be transported in segments.
Hippy folk used to live in these things in Wet Wales, once upon a time. I wonder if they still do. It is very enticing to pull out all plugs and just drift.........but i guess it is actually hard work keeping it all going, especially with little kidlets among the daisy chains.

I feel more like this beetle, stuck in a very hard shell and liable to get run over at any moment.........but not before I use my weapons of defense.

abandon hope

Here's some lovely red poppies to replace the memory of the scarlet clad English football team.
I had to go and sit with my book [Marshall Karp, very enjoyable] in my shed to escape the ignominy of the second half. I'm sure they tried but somehow it was so predictable,
We did manage not to lose the cricket to the Aussies today, but it was close. Andy Murray is still at Wimbledon, but doubtless not for long..........but maybe being Scots he will have the bottle to believe he can win.
I am English, I look at what I make and I feel very mediocre.

moths in the sun

We saw this fabulous butterfly when out walking Hatty the dog this morning, between down pours.
Blasted weather is dreadful, some strong sunshine - till everyone relaxes and then torrential rain and wind.
This is not our photo, of which RP surprisingly snapped a few [usually the butterflies flutter by when just in focus. But I was so excited {I couldn't wait to down [up?]load} by the design and undoubted rarity I had to look it up and see if it could be named after ......Me
..however it turns out it is not a butterfly but a Cinnabar day flying moth and quite common. Shame. Still beautiful tho in Mary Quant style.
Otherwise not too much happening, working on my Tracey Emin, stretching Adam and Eve and promising the Gossiping Goddesses I will stand them up soon.
Good debate on the Review Show last night about how we should perceive the challenges of the economic mayhem,
Germaine Greer [a furry grey moth these days]pontificating at volume and Tristram Hunt, new Labour MP [so a rare species] and friend of Lord Mandelson, very much a Peacock butterfly sprawling on the couch and drawling over other chubbier little members of the group.
Kirsty Wark was chairing - a screech owl? wise but so squawky, but presumably so powerful in the media these days she could gobble up the rest as a snack.
Some of the discussion was as usual on civil liberties and how much they should be curtailed.
Philip Blond who looked [he hopes} like a young Napoleanbut more a caterpillar with a wig, has written a book titled Red Tory advising us to save ourselves by returning to the certainties of the 1950s,drop individualism and become a community again- someone said it was the government's job to save us "by".........but the other chubber said who was to save us "from" was just as important.
"Under the auspices of both the state and the market, a vast body of disenfranchised and disengaged citizens has been constituted. They have been stripped of their culture by the Left and their capital by the Right, and in such nakedness they enter the trading floor of life with only their labour to sell. Proletarianised and segregated, the individuals created by the market-state settlement can never really form a genuine society: they lack the social capital to create such an association and the economic basis to sustain it.”
Thought provoking but rather middle class orientated - but then it as the Review Show on the BBC.

space to let

It feels odd to have space and peace back in the house, even tho it was knackering I do miss their bustle.

One afternoon I drove us to the rare breeds farm, fortunately no longer suffering blue tongue, as one of its rarities was last year.

It was often a case of beauty and the beast.

It took GG two tries to work out the significance of the electric fence.

So far the World Football Cup is not filling the space, roll on Wimbledon.

sand, sea and rain

We are back from a week in Pakefield, this is nicely meaningless information as I doubt many have heard of it, so it could be exotic. But if I said Lowestoft, [the obvious address just a couple of miles up the coast from Pakers] some may wonder - just what is the fascination with run down fishing towns..... Dunno. My father was in the navy so mother followed him from coastal town to coastal town [Eastbourne; Margate] awaiting his long delayed demob. No doubt having known him all her life she was well aware of what he would get up to without a wifely weather eye out. Thus the sound of the cold waves is probably soothing to my brow and I still hate brass bands on pompous little band stands. The Sally Army band wandering the streets would be very welcome but they don't proliferate in the South. I rented a very nice 3 bedroomed end of terrace within spitting distance of the sea and set the Glorious Grandson free........it rained. But we are a proud island breed even if daughter and GG are now dual nationality and boldly we set forth. but the sun came out eventually there is always hope .....altho daughter thinks that the hope found in the bottom of Pandora's box was the final evil, not a last positive gift; but then she is trying to work up the decision to go for a divorce. As we weren't expecting the rain we had to buy His Nibs a new jacket, well as new as the charity shop could provide. We did go out for a lot of walks, whatever the weather, grandma turns into the Wicked Witch of the East incarcerated with a busy toddler. Hatty the dog was in full agreement as she is not used to having to share her toys, same can be said of g'ma I suppose. I haven't actually stitched a stitch since GG arrived for obvious reasons. I sent a description of my Tracey Emin rip off "women are the sin eaters" to a local gallery for a forthcoming exhibition, but I suspect it won't be quite what they are used to. I would like to have done some sketching of GG, but the paints never got wet, as opposed to GG
Today daughter and offspring have been "taxied" off to town to meet up with school friends, thus here there is the mind and physical space to check mails and water the flowers. The Reunion for her year is on Saturday, fortunately we will the taxying her to the airport on Sunday.................

hasting home and away again

The seagulls in Hastings were large and vociferous, this one marches up and down the road when we walk by with Hattie, shouting very rudely. But when they are gliding thru the thermals at the cliff edge they are so elegant and beautiful.

We had S&D visiting for the last couple of days, it was a pleasure to show them why I love this area so much, the morning hike was great but in the afternoon the sea mist came rolling in and everything went cold and grey.
This happened the day before as well, so I persuaded RP it would be an excellent opportunity to f*** off to the flics, so we went to see Robin Hood, it was quite enjoyable - Russell Crowe was as solid as ever, tho his Nottingham accent lent more to blarney, Cate Blanchettte as Maid Marian is more of a woman than a maid, so was encouraging to identify with.

Too many battle scenes however, most of which never happened, even in myth. King John was a hoot and the Sheriff of Nottingham looks as if he may amuse in the sequel. There were at least 10 other people in the cinema who seemed to all have fun.

We are home again now, got lost 3 times leaving Hastings which I swear wasn't because I didn't want to go. RP just assumed that having done the trip 6 times before he could remember the way to the A21. No.
Tonight we chug off again to Heathrow to meet daughter and the Glorious Grandson who will be with us for the next 3 weeks.
This is great, but also frightening as my room/house is in no way toddler proof. For the first 5 days they will base themselves at my mother's house as she is gadding away down in the West country, inspecting gardens.
I went over today to her bungalow to make sure I knew where everything is, and was somewhat un-nerved by the number of knickknacks she has on show. Otherwise the house is a bit like an hotel as she is avidly modifying her life and environs.
When daughter and GG are decanted for what I hope will be a long refreshing jet lagged sleep I will have to trawl round and place all the china and flora up high. Ma presumably thinks that GG is still very small and helpless..............

another invasion?

Apparently, so the story goes, the cottage was built after the Battle of Trafalgar, 1805 as we all recall, for the widows of the slain. As there are only five in the terrace I would guess it was limited to officers wives with no private income.

I guess their families turned to fishing as a quieter way of life and the strange tall net drying huts were built down on the shore.
The Art Gallery is to be built next to the huts so they all sport signs stubbornly saying NO TO THE GALLERY, totally ignored by the workmen constructing avidly beneath them.

The fishing boats still sail in on the high tide straight up onto the shingle where tractors pull them up onto the beach out of the water.
Hopefully the shoals of intelligentsia expected next year will still enjoy fish and chips and jellied eels.

We spend a lot of each day pottering on the cliff tops, there are at least half a dozen magpies nesting, rooks [or are they crows] and crowds of very raucous seagulls. The gorse is a gorgeous buttery yellow, the bluebells are still there hiding under the trees, as everything is late here too.

Hattie the dog ignores it all and scurries back and forth tail wagging and hoovering up rabbit poo - her favourite delicacy.
Happily east and west cliff each have a funicular / lift thingy for when the steps down to the cottages seem too many.
They were out of commission for a year, but are now renovated and smoothly slide up and down like vertical ski lifts if you see what I mean, they don't make any horizontal progress. Slowly the place is being gentrified, public buildings gtting a face lift, junk shops are getting rid of their junk and importing tat, maybe the fishermen are right.

hail to the chief

If I ever win the Lottery [which will be difficult, as I wouldn't lower my dignity or common sense to buy a ticket - but the Retired Person is locked in, as he chose fixed numbers, so he can't stop]........I would force Dick the Wig to sell us this cottage and then we could come down to stay every few months........that's after I had spent my weekends in my London riverside flat of course

So far it has been great here, long walks, good food, even some sunshine.
Too many of the junk shops have been arty fartyfied however.
Today has been a bit different, this afternoon it hailed - ricocheting remorselessly off the couple next door who were trying to break down their front door.
They had locked themselves out. Being older, responsible citizens every door and window was securely locked against them. [NB Always expect the unexpected or leave spare keys with a neighbour!]
Meanwhile Pinky and Perky have been madly coalitioning, doling out jobs to the boys except the poison chalice of Home Secretary to Theresa the shoe shine queen. Hopefully they will play nicely.
I see the even more weird of the Milliband brothers has stepped forward to offer to lead us all to glory once Pinky and Perky have absorbed all the venom generated by the inevitable cuts. Poor Gordon is probably much better off spending more time with his family.

politicking

Back again, for the seventh holiday in this fisherman's cottage, fortunately he is no longer needs it.
They are building an Art gallery down by the shore, the locals are furious as it will be on top of their coach park - who will buy the fish and chips and ride on the carousel? The Worthies obviously have a different clientele in mind.
We are here for two weeks and already I can feel my shoulders relaxing - sunshine, doggie walks and lovely food - remarkable that we are still in England, if only clinging to a Southern edge.
The cottage has been equipped with a new TV and digi-box thing so we have been able to keep up with the political machinations, it all seems so craven, crawling up to Cleggie offering him goodies if only he will play nice.
How can the Tories just fold and reverse their statement that they do not believe in Proportional Representation?
I think the Lib Dems are mad if they hitch up to either, the Tories should just go with their minority government and see what comes...............but there again what do i know, I am on holiday.

hanging chads?

Jelly babies were my only friends last night as the election went from bad to Tory, apart from Hattie the dog and the Agamemnon the cat of course.
It was all very strange, seats slipping and sliding and ending up in quite unexpected places. Thankfully, IMO Labour were not wiped out as the Tories were 13 years ago. I guess they are still hamstrung by that defeat as they couldn't win outright this time even in the face of the country's finacial implosion.
But what on earth happened to the LibDems, after all that enthusiasm and excitement they actually lost seats.
Weird - was it an MI5 black op?
And queues at Polling stations! voters so keen they waited for hours and then couldn't even be let in to vote. Amazing.
Here in the village we strolled in after walkies with Hatters, the only punters in the hall. I toyed with the idea of a tactical vote but Dim Yeo had a 6600 majority last time, so no hope of putting the skids under him. The stub of pencil scratched in a big thick cross for this young woman I knew nothing about and somewhere a socialist fairy smiled.
The BNP and UKIP seem to have been struck down in various ways. I went to school in Barking so I am pleased they no longer have 12 BNP councillors, not that Margaret Hodge is anything to relish.
What ever will happen next? Young Nick is crushed then is raised again pampered and flattered by that awful balloon faced, mean mouthed Tory, tho I can't really revile his nasty little opening without agreeing that Gordon smiling should probably not ever be done in front of the children.
All so weird. Fortunately we are off on hols tomorrow, so by the time we get back life may have returned to something resembling normal.

when a tree falls

Very windy here the last few days. One of the poor dead elms above the Lane could stand it no longer and started wavering in a very sad manner.
RP was delighted/disgusted that he could get out the chain saw thingy and hack away again - but on the whole he'd rather not, at the same time.
I quickly realised I was merely lumberjack's mate offering only timely advice, as ever.
For an impulsive person with no mathematical or spatial relationship expertise I do seem to have some talent in logistics...........kids and teaching will refine that talent i suppose.
It was a very tall tree.
Someone once told us that the elm beetle doesn't attack until the trees reach a certain height, if that is true they fly high.
I gazed with some trepidation up the ivy clad trunk and tried to measure how far it would fall from the neighbours garage below.
Fortunately the ivy actually helped as it netted the tree to the others [ashes I think] so once he had chopped sections off we could haul it down from the vertical to the lengthening horizontal, and then dismember it.
Two nearby dead elms reviewed our performance and decided to remain firm for now.

rooting around

It was first of May again and the nearby village lays out its Plant Fair to gather shekels for their church. Lots of healthy little seedlings at very reasonable prices

Usually they claim to open at 10 a.m. but the locals/locusts always turn up early and queue aggressively until they break down the resolve of the organisers and are let in.

Those from further afield who turn up on time then grumble that the tables are no longer groaning with a pick of vegetation.
So this time it opened at 9a.m. this seemed to have some effect as my ma dipped out saying she couldn't be civil at that time and gave me a list.
However on our arrival at 8.5o the queue was already champing and we were let in 5 mins later. A queue of elderly obsessives is not one to gainsay.
Price of entry is steady emotional blackmail to buy several raffle tickets.


This is the resident expert and her heavy books to answer all queries. I know so little I don't even know what i should ask.
The plant trays have names and little pictures taped to the front with a hint or two as to size - that's far enough for me.
We bought some geraniums and petunias and clematis as far as i remember, one goes a little buy crazy. They are outside now still in their little pots, presumably gazing round and wondering if this is a good spot to have landed. It is raining heavily, and then not, and then heavily again - after weeks of drought; at the same time helpfully softening the soil and swishing out the pots, so all would seem promising for them to set root when it stops.

Democratic vote

Different group, same obsession.
We are a newly formed group still searching for a name. Some suggestions are somewhat risque.......HOOKERS = Happy Circle Of Key Eastern Region Stitchers.........another more wholesome suggestion FIESTA = Friends In Every Sort Of Textile Art.
Guess we will put it to the vote at our next monthly get together

We are meeting in this drear village hall, so any aesthetic excitement will have to be generated by our work.
We are pledged to raise an exhibition in six months time, preferably not at this venue.
We also discussed the theme for another exhibition arranged for 2011. It is to be titled Concept and Meaning, it will take us that long to sort out what the heck it means.
Suggestions welcome.


At home the magnolia is finally out
At last, too many blossoms to count.