Today was one of those ‘chasing your own tail’ days, if you know what I mean. Meg and I had a limited amount of time in the park (although the weather was absolutely wonderful) and, as well as picking up the newspaper, I needed to pop into Waitrose to pick up one or two supplies. Then we needed a fairly brisk walk home because our chiropodist was due to call at 12.45 – and we made it only being 10 seconds late. Quite unusually, she was a few minutes late as well so no harm done at all. After we had our feet done, we had our lunch (quite easy to prepare as the beef joint was cooked yesterday) and decided to ‘gird our loins’ to get the lawnmowing done. This is not a particularly big job these days (40-45 minutes at the front, cut ‘both ways’ and about 20-25 minutes at the back) but it so much more pleasant to do when the weather is fine. You can tell it is ‘that’ time of the year because we have mushroomy type growths appearing on our back lawn. We used to have a lot of ‘shaggy inkcaps’ and Google informs us that they were ‘edible when young’ but I would never trust any fungus growing in the garden in case I had mis-identified it. Anyway the lawns got cut whilst the sun was still shining (and even Miggles the cat, showed up for his customary treat)

In the lst few days, I have received a couple of emails from my flatmate when I was first a student at the University of Manchester in 1965. There were four of us lads altogether and one of our number hailed from what was then called Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) although he had spent his last few years in a boarding school in Bournmouth. We all get on well with each other and as my Sri Lankan friend and I were about the same size, he let me borrow his jacket for the one night a week when I went out with Meg (we used to frequent a Folk singing club each Sunday evening on the ‘J’ floor of the large Victorian building that was occupied by the Faculty of Technology – later to become a university in its own right as UMIST -University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology) There are many tales I could tell of our experiences. At the end of our first year, our landlady had bought another house so three of the original flatmates plus Meg occupied the original house as a series of flats. In our final year, we all moved into a modern maisonette built on top of a row of shops, bu that is another story. The one incident that sticks in my mind is when we four lads were in our first year and were eating our evening meal round the communal table. Just then, the tearaway young son of our landlady burst into our room with a plastic tommy gun that made a loud rattling noise when fired. So he it was fired at all of us and we decided to play the part and play ‘dead’ as we all leant forward over the table. ‘Mummy, mummy‘ the youngster cried out –  ‘I have just shot all of the students dead!‘  At this stage, our landlady came rushing through and shouted ‘Willy! Willy! What have you done!‘ At this point, we were all trying so hard to suppress our giggles that it was quite evident that we were not all dead and our landlady left us, indicating she was not a little bit amused by our antics.

Meg and I were married at the start of our third year in university (we didn’t believe in messing about in those days) but our Sri Lankan friend had returned home to see his family and missed our actual wedding. However, his family were extraordinarly generous to us and we were showered with wedding gifts. One of these was a bolt of cloth, shot through with silver thread, to be deployed as a sari (our friend had to teach Meg how to wear this) We also got a square tin of the kind that Jackson’s teas used to be sold whichh are about 5″ wide, 5″ deep and 5″ high filled completely with saffron.  We used this very liberally in our cooking for the whole of the next year and when asked for a pound of saffron, the delicatessen owner had to explain that would cost us about £65.00 (about £2,000 in today’s money) Finally a tea-chest arrived (the old fashioned tea chests which were about 30″ wide, deep and high) stuffed full with Broken Orange Pekoe tea. I should explain that our friend’s mother now ran an elite cookery school in Colombo and hence the nature of the gifts, no doubt.  But the generosity of our friend’s mother who did not even know us evidently knew no bounds.

Today being Sunday, I walk down on my own to collect our Sunday Times and be back in time for the Andrew Marr show – both of these are fixed points in the week. When I was with the newsagent we chatted for a little about cars and he told me that several decades ago he owned a Jaguar XJ6 and used to journey from Birmingham to Manchester in one. I indicated that I did have a secret yearning for one but all you have to is to mention ‘supermarket carpark’ followed by ‘automatic’ to put one off for life. I did mention in my conversation that I used to live in the Rusholme area of Manchester (about 1-2 miles along from the University along the Wilmslow Road) and when we lived there in the mid 1960’s it was about 90% Irish – now with the ecological processes of invasion and succession (terms learnt from my urban sociology course, also in the 1960’s) it was 90% Asian and had become the curry capital of the region. This is so much the case that one occasion a filmcrew was taking street shots of the area and our flat (a modern flat built on top of some shops – quite a common pattern in the 1960’s) was caught in the camera panning shot. After Meg and I got ready slowly, we walked down to the park where a lively session of the Bromsgrove Literary and Philosophical Society ensued. Our discussions ranged over the success of the local football and rugby teams (both doing quite well) to the exact location of Beijing on a map (which for some reason had recently taxed the minds of some of us) Before we set off for our walk, I ventured onto our communal green area to see how our apple trees are faring. Several years, I planted some young trees from Aldi (bought for about £1.50) and these are now bearing fruit in abundance. One of the trees was so laden with fruit that the branch bearing the fruit had actually split under the weight. To the best of my memory, the variety of apple if ‘Jonathan’ which is a classic American variety, apparently. I picked about three or four of these so that I could taste one and give the others away to friends in the park (although I didn’t get many takers, bar one) The apples are small,very crisp (not like your mushy Golden Delicious) and with quite a sharp, semi-sweet flavour. Now that I know that they are in good condition for picking, I am going to leave it literally for a day or so and then avail myself of some ‘fruit trays’ in which I can store them. I generally try to ‘acquire’ some of these from my local Asda and ensure that the apples are not washed but are polished and stored so that they do not touch each other. Then if they are inspected reguarly I choose the best of the bunch for the task in hand (eating apples, making into apple sauce, apple puree or what have you) and any that are going ‘off’can be quickly thrown away without infecting the rest. Mind you, I do have to be careful where they are stored because in the past the local mice  have sometimes said ‘Thank you very much‘ and taken random nibbles, so I learn from experience. I have some cookers in Mog’s Den which are much larger but undoubtedly cookers and not eaters but I think these can be left on the tree for a week or so longer yet. One wants to get the crop picked before an autumn gale sends them all crashing to the ground.

Meg and I had a rare treat today which was a little piece of sirloin complemented by a glass of red wine. We have started to eat again in our kitchen instead of on our knees which was a COVID  inspired measure but which is no longer necessary. We have enjoyed a good old read of the Sunday newspapers today after our lunch and are settling down to an evening of TV programmes very much to our taste.

The latest COVID news warning today is that COVID-19 and flu are co-circulating this year for the first time and those who catch both are twice as likely to die, early evidence suggests, amid fears of a ‘twindemic’. I must admit I am pleased to have got the booster jab behind me last week – I took a photo of the cards issued to Meg and myself so that I have a record of it on my iPhone. When I was younger, I seemed to get ‘flu every year and assumed it was just part of the normal ‘winter’ cycle but as things stand at the moment, I cannot remember the last time I was afflicted. Of course it could be that last year all of the precautions that we took against COVID protected us again ‘flu viruses as well but now we have all got a bit too complacent, then we might have to learn to be streetwise (and carry on wearing our masks – which we do every time we encounter a crowd e.g. inside any of the local shops)

The spell of fine weather is mercifully continuing and is what used to be called an ‘Indian summer’. The origins of this expression seem to be lost in obscurity but I believe that the ‘Indian’ refers to native North Americans and a harking back to the conditions that they used to remember. Anyway, any spell of fine and dry weather is appreciated at this time of year. Personally, I like to get December 21st out of the way as after that date, it ought to be getting that little bit lighter (rather than darker as is the case at the moment). After our walk in the park and the collection of our newspaper, we had only the briefest of stops and chats as I had to get back by about 12.30 so that I could set off for my hospital appointment in the afternoon. I knew where the treatment centre was in Kidderminster and gave myself about 40 minutes to go the 12-13 miles. All is well until I was approaching the centre of Kidderminster to joing a large ring road that would eventuallytake me to my destination. The blocked off road pointed left and said ‘Diversion’ and that was that. If you no idea about the topography of Kidderminster, you would have utterly been thrown because you were sent all round the houses with no indication as how to get to where your ultimate destination might be. I figured out that I probably had to go round three sides of a square in order to try to access the ring road and, fortunately, this turned out to be correct because eventually I found the ring road, sailed past the blocked off access road to Bromsgrove and found the Treatment Centre and its scanners located in the carpark. I did arrive with two minutes before my appointment time at which I was pleased. Then I had to approach 2-3 large mobile units where the scanners are located in the carpark. This is actually quite a sensible arrangement because it means you should not come into contact with any other patients or staff beyond that which is strictly necessary. I approached the door of the mobile unit up a ramp and was greeted with a sign not to force the door but to knock – this I did but to no effect. I descended the ramp and was searching for an alternative entrance before one of the unit staff, sitting in his car, asked if he could be of help. I informed him I was there for a scan and was told ”Oh, we are having our lunch at the moment – go away for 7 minutes and then come back when we might be ready for you’  I decided that it might be a useful and strategic use of my time to pay a visit to the loo before the procedure, which I did in the main hospital. Upon my return to the unit, one other patient was waiting whose appointment was five minutes after mine. Eventually, the door was opened and the person in the queue in front of me was seen first as ‘he was first inthe queue. So I waited for about five minutes and then it came to my turn. I have had these procedures before so I know what to expect. Having divested myself of anything metallic and having had a canula inserted for the contrast agent to be administered, I was ready for the off and the whole thing took about 2-3 minutes. Putting all my gear back on, I then had to circumnavigate the traffic system in order to get home. This time, I followed the signs to the Severn Valley preserved railway station and line – this, I know would get me back into the right track, which indeed it did. Evidently, to the people who know the system this is all a ‘piece of cake’ but if you have ever been to that treatment centre before, I can imagine that the whole logistics of getting there must have a nightmare. I was very pleased, though, to get home and to have a quiche lunch which had been warming at a low heat in the oven and was easy to prepare once I got home.

This afternoon is our attendance at church day so we were pleased to be back in the swing of things again. We had quite a long chat with our Irish friends from down the road and we have accepted (gratefully!) an invitation to go round for coffee on Tuesday morning. As we happens we have other things to do on Monday and Wednesday, so we shall look forward to this. As I write at the moment, I am listening to a performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto on Radio 3. I am trying to remember the plot as I write whilst also listening to the music – but Rigoletto is full of sparkling and hummable tunes anyway (‘La donna è mobile‘) for example.

Today seemed a strange kind of Friday for a variety of reasons. Our domestic help turned up late  which was very unusual and we feaed that she had another life-threatening episode with her beloved Jack Russell dog which looked as though it had suffered a heart attack last week and caused our friend a fair degree of trauma. This condition is now being treated with pills taken at particular intervals and seem to be working. So we feared the worst but our domestic help had overslept (not that we minded) – by the time she turned up and we exchanged all of our various bits of news mainly about family related matters, time had marched on somewhat so we were a little late undertaking our trip to the park. But we did meet up with our University of Birmingham friend as we had indicated to each other that we would meet up on Friday. Needless to say, we were also the object of attention from several of the local dogs (sitting on a bench maximises the chance in thir eyes that you are going to give them a titbit) After a pleasant chat we made for home and then cooked our Friday lunchtime treat. I had gone shopping to Waitrose in Droitwich a day later than usual but made sure I was there at about 1 minute past 8.00am in order to ensure a good, stress-free shopping environment. One thing to which I treat ourselves is some fresh sea-bass and I have now found the almost perfect way to cook it. Having dried the fish and with the minimum of oil, I then cook it for two to three minutes in a covered casserole dish, the skin-side down to make it fairly crispy and then I add some capers and a bit of butter before cooking the other side. I then serve it on a bed of salad leaves – I found that the richness of the fish and a good bowl of salad leaves (which the fish heats up) proves a very satisfying meal without bothering with other green veg – although i would cook tenderstem broccoli if I felt the meal needed it.

This afternoon was a sort of ‘tiding up’ afternoon. Actually, I was hoping to find two things that I had temporarily mislaid (sounds better than ‘lost’) but which my mind would be easier once they were located. The first was little wallet arrangement in which I carry some notes when I go shopping. I always try to make sure that this little wallet gets popped in a pocket which is zip-protected so that it doesn’t pop out inadvertently. Anyway this turned up in a ‘zipped’ anorak pocket where it was quite secure but not where I usually keep it.  The second item was my front door key which had also been mislaid because on my Pilates day it has to go in a different location to a pocket in my track suit bottoms which I do not trust. Anyway, this too turned up moreorless in a location where I often keep it so I had a more relaxed afternoon knowing that I located both wallet and front door key. In the early evening, I FaceTimed an ex-colleagues and friend from my University of Winchester days. We tend to have a chat for about half an hour each week or more if the spirit takes us (as it did today) and we discuss what had happened to us in the past week before,almost inevitably, we discuss the latest political shenanigans.

A friend sent me a cartoon which is ostensibly quite funny but also can be interepreted more seriously. The cartoon depicts a dinghy overloaded with asylum seekers and the like in the middle of the English Channel and they are being hailed  by a loudhailer from a UK coastal protection vessel with the question ‘Do any of you drive a lorry?” The serious side to this joke is that many of the immigrants into British society may well seek to establish a toehold in UK society by taking the jobs that the indigenous British find not to their liking. As well as the fruit, vegetable and flower pickers, we also have the examples of lorry drivers, abattoir workers and numerous other onerous and low paid jobs.The fact that so many of the erstwhile workers in these industries have now been officially encouraged to ‘go home’ and have abandoned the UK means that of course, we now know that we need what they had to offer. To all of those who voted Brexit, I feel like shouting from the rooftops: ‘Well, this is what you wanted and what you voted for!‘  However, since Brexit we had had the pandemic, of course, and to Tory MP’s this is like manna from heavan because all kinds of things can be blamed on the pandemic alone. The truth is probably that labour shortages are a complex mixture of Brexit, pandemic related issues and local demographic factors – but it is interesting to note that Brexit as a root cause is scarcely mentioned or only in passing.

Today has been a very strange day in all sorts of ways. Meg and I had a delayed start for our walk down into Bromsgrove but as we went this morning, practically everybody we met wanted to stop and chat. Oyr Italian friend’s water problems seem to have been solved – ar at least, we think the leak has been rectified and the hole in the pavement filled in. In the park, we had a long conversation with a couple where we know each by sight. Today, we stopped for a much longer chat mainly talking about the ways in which ourselves and our families had coped with COVID over the months. We concurred that those of who live fairly near the park have had a pretty good COVID as we have had the opportunities of a good walk, a chat with friends and acquaintances and of course lungfulls of generally fresh air and the changing vista of the park to admire. After our extended park stay, we popped into town to collect our newspaper, went to an ATM to take out a bit more cash and finally called in at Waitrose so that we could replenish supplies of tea and milk before I go shopping in the morning (visit of our shopping trip to Waitrose delated by a day this week).  As we walked up the hill to get home, we happened to pass one of our neighbours who lives just around the corner and whose husband acts as one of the marshalls in the Artrix Arts Centre which, here in Bromsgrove, has been re-purposed as a vaccination cntre capable of handling up to 2,000 vaccinations a day when fully manned. We were informed that the centre had plenty of vaccine and if we wanted to receive our booster vaccines, all we needed to do was to get ourselves down there. So after we had a rather thrown-together lunch, we got ourselves down to the Artrix to get our boosters.We had taken our NHS numbers with us (most useful of all) as well proof on our phones of our first two vaccinations and we were soon located on the system and received our jabs without further ado. We were mildly surprised to be getting the Pfizer vaccine as out first two vccinations were Astra-Zeneca – nonetheless, I think I have read (somewhere) that giving separate vaccines helps the immune system to produce a better response  than a single vaccine. As we were last vaccinated last April, it is probable that our immune reponse might have lowered somewhat so we were pleased to get our booster way before the autumn cold gives the cold viruses (of all types) a field day.

Late on this afternoon, we thought we would FaceTime my sister who lives in Yorkshire. The news from Yorkshire was all a little depressing. My brother-in-law has suffered from prostatic cancer for some years but this has now migrated to his spine and it is severely impairing his mobility which is now almost zero.  Needless to say, he has been getting depressed by all of this and its sequelae but a wheelchair was delivered this afternoon. On the strength of this, one of my brother-in-law’s sons was pushing him out to a local pub (or at least a place where alcohol is served) so it looked as though he might drink his first pint for many a long month. The news from the rest of the famnily was a little grim as well. My niece has been infected with COVID (probably by one of the pupils in the school in which she works) and has infected her husband and daughter so the three of them have been coping with all of this for the past week or so. We always knew that schools were massive reservoirs of infection but the government has kep on insisting that they are ‘safe’ (perhaps for other pupils but not for the staff who work in them) Tomorrow, I must get into contact with them and get all of their news from the horse’s mouth as it were. 

Now that the Conservative party conference is over, three particular features remain in the memory. The first of these is that the whole of Johnsonian conference speech was devoted to what has been termed ‘blusterism’ where the speech was full of rhetorical  announcements about a glorious future but no indication how we are to get there. The second feature is many of the business community (and even some on the Conservative right) are labelling Boris Johnson as economically illiterate and doubt that many of the ‘sunlit uplands’ might actually arrive. And thirdly, there are a whole series of absolutely massive problems building up (massive rise in gas prices as well as council taxes, cut in Universal Credit, possibility of rampant inflation and this is before we even start to factor in the results of Brexit unwinding).To these, the government appears blind with no policies to speak of at all (but they are still ahead of Labour in the opinion polls)

Last night, I thought I would hunt around in the ‘pending’ tray in my study for my letter of appointment for the routine CT scan which I am going to have on Saturday in one of the local hospitals/treatment centres. As it happens, Bromsgrove is in the middle of a triangle of hospitals and for any procedures, investigations or indeed anything more serious one can be sent either to the Alexander hospital in Redditch, Worcester Royal (in Worcester) or sometimes a treatment centre (a downgraded hospital) in Kidderminster. As patients, we are well used to shuttling round between any of the three centres as we are approximately equidistant for each. The staff also get shuffled around and by all accounts the staff actively dislike this arrangement – but they have hardly any choice. The point of this story is that I discovered my letter of appointment for my scan on Saturday but also discovered, almost completely by accident, a routine urology appointment for today, Wednesday, at 10.0am in the morning. This appointment letter was sent to me in August and had somehow evaded my normal system where hospital appointments get marked up on the calendar and on our house ‘planning board’. When I arrived at the hospital this morning, the car parking although free was an absolute nightmare. Every single space allocated for patients was already taken and we were directed to an overspill  carpark, itself an overspill from a staff carpark and seemingly hundreds of yards away from the main hospital. The hospital appointment itself was a breeze as there were no other outpatients around and the whole waiting area resembled the ‘Marie Celeste‘.  I was seen by a nurse practitioner who was very chatty and informative and she arranged a further (routine) MRI scan for me which might take weeks to run through the system. She performed a little diagnostic test on me to reassure each other that all was well and then I was sent on my way, having given a blood sample en route. When I got home, the weather was really set fair and so I made up a flask of coffee and Meg and I made for the local park (as per usual) On our way down, we bumped into our Italian friend who had reported some gurgling water noises to the local water authority and they had turned up, dug a hole in the pavement and presumably identified the source of the problem which no doubt they were going to fix eventually (leaving a hole in the pavement in the meantime) We didn’t actually go directly to the park but called in at Waitrose to pick up a few things of which we were running short before our main shop-up at the end of the week. Finally, we headed for home and prepared a chicken meal for ourselves.

The news channels this afternoon were very much taken up with Boris Johnson’s address to the Conservative party Conference. This was an extraordinary affair to put it mildly. The speech as a whole was full of (not very funny) jokes and typical Johnsonian bluff and bluster. It was hard to discern any acual policy announcements and the whole ‘performance’ was designed only to entertain the party faithful. However, he did manage some digs at his predecessors (Cameron and May) by referring to ‘decades of drift and dither‘ and it is evident that Johnson is intent on painting a big picture (bereft of any detail) of ‘a high wage, high productivity, low immigration’ future for the UK. You would not imagine, though, that we were living in times when we were queueing for petrol, thousands of pigs were being slaughtered because there are not enough workers to process the carcasses in the abattoirs, the Universal Credit was being cut by £20 a week and gas prices were spiking again. Of course, all of these problems are just being dismissed as ‘transitional problems’ whilst we progress towards a  fully  post-Brexit economy. In circumstances like this, I always look forward to the analyses on Newsnight on BBC2 each night – as this is when serious analysis does get undertaken of the day’s political events and some detailed questionning can take place.

The other political mantra which is being constantly heard is the philosophy/politics of ‘levelling up’ and now we even a Minstry with the words ‘levelling up’ in its title.The big trouble here is that hardly anyone knows what ‘levelling up’ is meant to be! I think I can be pretty certain that I know what it will NOT be – which is a massive redistribution of income and wealth and life chances across the country. This would imply that the Tories are committed to the abolition of all social class, ethnic and regional differences across the whole of the country which is not going to happen. Instead, it is a rather innocuous soundbite which sounds good but is  essentially meaningless. Eventually, some more money might be pushed in the direction of (Tory) local authorities which might be enough to prove that some regional inequalities have been ironed out but I suspect that like other meaningless slogans which means all things to all men it will eventually disappear.

Last night we heard it raining cats and dogs during the evening and the weather was really gloomy this morning with a constant threat of rain all morning. We understand that the weather may improve lightly from mid-week onwards but, in the meantime, we have to content ourselves with living through these dreary days. But to lighten our gloom, we got a phone call from our University of Birmingham friend whon we arranged to meet in Waitrose. The last time I was in our local building society, they had a little table with a few donated books upon it for which you asked to donate £1 to a local hospice. On the table, I discovered a copy of a book which I already own by a science journalist,Ben Goldacre called ‘Bad Science’  According to the publisher’s blurb:

“Ben Goldacre’s wise and witty bestseller, shortlisted for the Samuel Johnson Prize, lifts the lid on quack doctors, flaky statistics, scaremongering journalists and evil pharmaceutical corporations” 

I bought this especially with my University of Bimingham friend in mind and was more than happy to give it to him when we met for a coffee.We spent a happy half hour or so together before I had to go shopping for a few provisions in the Waitrose store itself, before departing by car in order to get home promptly. I then put on my tracksuit bottoms and gather up a few things before I set off for my Pilates class (as I do every Tuesday) at 12.40 prompt.  The Pilates session lived up to its usual promise although ‘as a treat’ we are allowed to have a few minutes ‘relaxation’ at the end of the session in Week 6. As I generally fall almost completely asleep during this relaxation period, there is a running joke that the quality of the Pilates teacher is always to be judged by how quickly they can send me asleep. My other class members swear that I always end up snoring but I think this is a leg-pull as a part of me is still conscious even though I  was well on the way to being fast asleep. When we got home, I cooked some crispy cod fish fingers, just bought at Waitrose, which I attempted to microwave. I must then confess to cooking the worst meal of my 54 years of married life. The crispy cod fingers were as hard as iron – in fact, so hard that  knife could not possibly cut through them.  Even raising them to one’s lips and attempting to eat them like sausages was not much better as we were in danger of cracking our teeth into little bits were we to persist. So eventually, all of these wonderful cod fingers were consigned to the bin before we did any damge to our dentition or our gastrointestinal tracts.

We always have a bit of a foreshortened afternoon on a Tuesday and in no time it was 5.00pm. This is the time of the week when we usually FaceTime our ex-Waitrose friends and we have a general natter about the things that have happened to us in the last week. We detailed the way in which we had driven 110 miles and achieved 55mpg on our journey up to Lancashire about which we feel immensely proud.

One of the stories hitting the headlines tomorrow is the fact that healthy well-tended pigs are being sent to slaughter and then dumped – all because there are not enough staff in the abbattoirs to process the carcases. After Brexit, many of the workers from eastern europe as well as elsewhere have returned home leaving the UK 20% short of staff. So far today, 600 pigs have been slaughtered and then dumped but there are fears that this figure could rise to as many as 150,000 in the weeks ahead. Many of those responsible for the rearing of the pigs are said to be in tears at this needless slaughter. Whereas temporary visas have been offered in the case of HGV drivers and poultry processing workers, this facility has not been offered to those in the pig industry. The official government line on all of this is that we should expect, post Brexit, some transitional problems as we progress from a low wage, immigration-fuelled economy to a high wage, indigenous work force. As it is the Conservative party conference in Manchester at the moment and the convention centre is buzzing with journalists, there is a lot of oppotunity to question ministers over these economic transitions. One particular line of questioning (I am think of Beth Rigby interviewing Boris Johnson) is to ask ‘Where is the plan‘ for this transition given that Brexit itself was six years ago now. It is becomingly increasing clear that there really is no plan at all and the governnment are just ‘muddling along’ The latest attempt to recruit extra HGV drivers from continental Europe has yielded 127 drivers so far.

Today we had to make a fairly early start because we had a routine appointment at the dentist. Actually, we have a six-monthly appointment wiuth the dentist ‘proper’ as it were and a six-monthly appointmnt with the dental hygienist who we have been to for years and we lag one by three months compared with the other. This arrangement actually works extremely well because it means that our mouths, gums and teeth get looked at every three months rather than every six and any incipient problems can be nipped in the bud. This actually happened to me today as one of my fillings had developed a bit of a rough edge and the hygienist was able to ‘burr’ it down for me (it sound a bit less agressive than ‘file’ it down but the result is the same). Afterwards, I spent the morning helping our son sort out a communications problem he was having with his phones and we think at the end of the morning we are nearer to a resolution of the problem. Then we had a lunch of chicken thighs which we bought as part of a pack last Thursday in lieu of a joint.

In the afternoon, Meg and I spent a certain amount of time sorting out some of the contents of our (storage) chest of drawers in our bedroom. Over the course of a few years, things have got a little jumbled and out of place so we spent the afternoon having a fairly good sort out. In the fairly near future, we intend to have a much more comprehensive sort out  and this will involove being ruthless about the things that have not been worn for a few years which need either to be salvaged, donated to a charity shop or even thrown away. Some things, of course, never get thrown away – I have tried to persuade the women of the household never to throw away used tights, as once washed of course, they make magnificent ties for things like stray branches on errant trees and bushes in the garden. The thing about tights is that not only is the material strong particularly when twisted but there is just a little bit of ‘give’ which can mean that shrubs, trees and particularly rose bushes do not get damaged in the process.

This afternoon, we watched, in snatches, some of the Conservative party conference (which I observe wih a kind of fascinated horror) Today was almost a master class in the art of dissimulation on the part of the Chacellor of the Exchequer, Rishi Sunak. Several ‘messages’ were being sent out, seemingly woven like a tapestry into the same narrative, namely – I believe in fiscal responsibility as do all of you (= public spending will now be cut where possible), I do not intend to raise taxes but refuse to rule them out, spending will be kept severely limited (except just before the next election) even though this policy as espoused by George Osborne bore down most heavily upon the already poor, I am a true Brexiteer but I deny that Brexit has anything to do with current crises, I swear complete loyalty to Boris Johnson but know how to distance myself from ‘Uncontrolled spending pledges’ which are ‘Un-Conservative’. Absolutely all of this is nothing to do with the current problems that the country faces but absolutely everything to do with Rishi Sunak positioning himself as the darling of the Tory grassroots so that as as soon as Boris Johnson makes the most enormous gaffe and may (nearly) lose the next election, so a new leader is ready and waiting in the Conservative wings, ready to take over at a moment’s notice. 

Another political story tonight is the so-called ‘Pandora papers’  (named after Pandora’s Box of Greek mythology).  The Sky website reports:

The secret wealth and dealings of world leaders, politicians and billionaires has been exposed in one of the biggest leaks of financial documents. Some 35 current and former leaders and more than 300 public officials are featured in the files from offshore companies, dubbed the Pandora Papers. They reveal the King of Jordan secretly amassed £70m of UK and US property. They also show how ex-UK PM Tony Blair and his wife saved £312,000 in stamp duty when they bought a London office. The couple bought an offshore firm that owned the building.

Today has been the most marvellous day. We knew that today was going to be a bit of a special day not only because it was Meg’s 75th birthday but it was also the day when we had plans to go ‘up north’ to Bolton to see Meg’s cousin (who we had not seen for decades) and her daughter who we think we have not seen since she was 3 years old (we are now half a century on) We set an alarm for 6.00am and leapt out of bed to make an early start. As a birthday present for Meg, I had ordered a dressing gown from John Lewis which had been delivered to our local Waitrose down the road. I brought this present up to the bedroom together with Meg’s early morning cup of tea and she tried on the dressing gown for size. As it happens,it was perfect size and one of John Lewis‘ best sellers and she was delighted to try it on and then to wear it. After we had had a ‘quickie’ breakfast, I walked down into town to collect our copy of the ‘Sunday Times‘ and then we had a schedule for the journey this morning. I remembered from the fuel crisis of the 1970’s that we needed to be very economical with the use of the accelerator and the best wasy to achieve this was to drive either in stockinged feet or in slippers. I decided to drive in a pair of old slippers and I figured out that as the  distance of the journey was about 110 miles, I should allow for two hours actual driving time. I then suspected that I would have to queue for anything up to an hour at one or more petrol stations to top up before the return journey. Then I had allocated ½ hour for a ‘pit stop’ probably on the motorrway and then another ½ hour for ‘getting lost’ or ‘fishing about’ time – some 4 hours in total.   But .. the best laid plans of mice and men! The weather turned out to be a beautiful day for motoring and we kept to a steady 60-65 all the way up the M5, M6 and M61. The rest of the traffic seemed to be moderating their speed somewhat so we were not much slower than fellow motorists. We arrived in the vicinity of our destination address in Bolton and about a mile short of it, saw a huge Tesco store wih its own petrol station. We swept into it and filled up to the brim ready for the journey back. As I was paying the cashier, I mentioned the steps I had taken to conserve fuel and shot me a glance as though I was slightly mad. When I enquired about the availability of fuel in the Tresco store, I was told that they had plenty of fuel and in effect was told ‘Fuel crisis?  What fuel crisis?’ As a result of my economising efforts, I discovered that I had used 9 litres of fuel (practically 2 gallons) and had travelled some 110 miles so I achieved a mpg of 55mpg which I don’t think I ever achieved before (and probably never will again) in a conventional petrol driven car.

So we arrived at the house of the cousin’s daughter and her husband an hour and a half earlier and had to make our profound apologies for arriving so early (but we had taken along some fizzy and pot plants with which to appease the household gods) Then we spent most of the next 4-5 hours catching up on family matters, filling in some family back history, talking about our current family members and generally making up for decades of neglect. The one question to which we needed an answer was follows. Meg’s family was rooted in the Potteries and we are in contact with several members of one branch of the family on Meg’s mother’s side. We are also in contact with a similar number  of family members from the branch of the family on Meg’s father’s side. What we did not know was to extent these two branches of the family were cognizant of the other – whilst they knew of each other and might have met fleetingly at weddings and the like, how much did they actually know each other?  The answer as it turned out was – not much! So after the most enjoyable of meals, sharing of family photos, stories and reminiscences , it was time to head for home. As we were not now having to super-careful of our fuel supplies we headed for home not bothering to keep our speed particularly low but kept up with the rest of the traffic and so we got home in a couple of hours. To complete our pleasure for the day, we watched a reprise on BBC4 of the life of the famous cellist, Jacquline du Pré which we had seen once before but was always worth worth a second viewing.

Today when we woke up, it was a constant drizzle and so it persisted all day. So whatever else we were going to do, we knew that our normal walk was probably out of the question. Today is very much ‘the day before the day afterwards’ because tomorrow is going to be our ‘big trip’ up to Bolton in Lancashire to see Meg’s cousing and her daughter. In preparation for this, we called in at our local Waitrose in order to buy a couple of pot plants for the members of our family tomorrow. This having been done, I whizzed off into town in order to replenish our supplies of money – I always feel as tough I need a certain modicum of cash with me before a long trip. Having done our errands, we then made for the park where we hoped we might bump into our University of Birmingham friend even though it was raining quite hard. We surveyed the distant benches (and realised they were unoccupied) and glanced towards the bandstand, which was similarly unoccupied. At this, we decided to call it a day and we drove home and had our prepared elevenses at home instead of shivering on a cold, rainy park bench. We made this do for our lunch as well as, by now, it was rather late in the day. 

Last night at one minute past midnight was the time of the month when the results of the latest Premium Bonds draw were to be publicised. However, we had a rather frustrating time as the updated NS&I app which gives you notification of how you have (or have not) won that month was not behaving itself. This app has worked quite well over the months but not on this occasion. They had updated the app and all that it indicated was that ‘Results are not yet Available’ (although we had other indications that they might be). Eventually, we went onto the website and discovered that, between us, we had actually won £75.00 (which is rather nice as we had had a run of fallow months recently so we thought it was about time that our luck changed) We are checking the amount of prizes we have won and what kind of interest that would represent and after our latest winnings, I calculate that our putative interest rate works out at 1.32% which is a lot better than the 0.5% which all of the building societies seem to be offering at the moment.

After lunch, Meg and I had a rather lazy afternoon and decided to hop through the TV channels to see if anything attracted our attention. We settled on the ‘Yesterday’ Channel which was showing a whole series of Michael Portillo’s Great Railway Journeys. The minute we tuned to tuned into the channel, they happened to showing views of Harrogate which was interesting for me as I was brought up in that town and lived there from the age of 4 until I was about 18. Harrogate is a pleasant town in which to live (and many of the cosmopolitans from Leeds have decided to settle there) so we found the travelogue quite interesting – and carried on watching the rest of the programme (which detailed the journey by rail fom Hull to Llandudno in North Wales). My most abiding memories of Harrogate were working in the Old Swan Hotel Harrogate which in many ways was a financial lifeline for me and I worked there from 1960 until 1964 alhough, in truth, it seemed a lot longer than that) The stratification structure of a large 4-star hotel is quite fscinating. I started washing dishes at 2s 6d an hour (12½p an hour) and then progressed onto washing silver which was paid at the rate of 15p an hour. For this, I progressed onto washing dishes for the bar (at 20p an hour) and finally became an (underage) barman at 25p an hour. As well as doing these various jobs, I also worked as a porter (during the day to carry the suitcases of coachloads of American tourists to their rooms), and a night-time porter (one of my duties was to hoover the vast expanse of the ballroom) In addition, as a ‘trusty’ I wa often detailed to set up a temporary bar and this involved getting the stock and the glasses, organising a float, setting up a temporary bar and then getting the cash back into the system  and the stock returned to its proper home (and I was only 17-18 at the time).

In preparation for tomorrow, I have hunted out a pair of new slippers that I had in stock and I am going to use my ‘old’pair as a pair of really light driving shoes – all of this in an attempt to save fuel. The extreme of this policy, of course, is to drive in one’s socks and the lighter presssure of the accelerator helps one to conserve fuel (we learnt this during the fuel crisis of the 1970’s)