Friday, 23rd September, 2022 [Day 921]

Today dawned quite bright so after our showers, Meg and I were keen to get into the park for our daily walk. We went by car to pick up our copy of The Times and then made our way to our usual park bench. We were joined by Seasoned World Traveller and then a few minutes later by an elderly Irish couple who we know through being the friends of our other Irish friends. After all of our chats we returned home to view what has been happening with the Chancellor’s mini-budget about which more later. When I go out in the open, I have taken to wearing an Australian style black leather hat. This hat has been my constant companion for some years now and in the past, people have stopped me in the street to mention that ‘I don’t recognise you but I recognise the hat’ Actually, this hat was the second of its genre that I have owned – the first in the series was actually bought in a charity shop for about £4 whereas the second was actually replaced, after I left the first in a pub in Winchester. As part of the ordering process, I actually spoke with the suppliers who informed me that when this style of hat is inadvertently left behind somewhere it is never, never handed in – an action I can understand, even though I do not sympathise with it. To keep these hats in good condition, I give them a fairly generous polishing with black boot polish which, after it is polished up, certainly both repels and sheds the rain after a brief shower. Now to get to the point- I have actually lost my hat somewhere. Family and friends have kept infuriately saying to me ‘Where have you lost it?’ which, if I knew, would mean that the hat was no longer lost or was in a general location where I could look for it. Needless to say, I have looked at every likely place in the house where it is liable to be and even looked around our regular park bench and also in the clinic where I do my Pilates at midday every Tuesday. Yesterday afternoon as the hat was well and truly lost, I had to put into operation ‘Plan B’ which is to start to wear the identical hat which I had previously bought and placed into reserve, knowing that it could only be a matter of time before its predecessor was lost, abandoned or stolen. The replaced hat I do admit although it is the same colour, size and style of the previous one does looks newer and dare I say, somewhat smarter as well. When my son called round and remarked that I had evidently found my hat, I confessed and told him it was a brand new one. He wryly remarked that no doubt I would get round to ordering a duplicate so when my new hat was lost (hopefully many years into the future), I would still have a replacement in store. However, he knows me too well as I was able to inform him that a replacement, reserve hat was already on order (courtesy of a quick search on the internet where I found a quality replacement at what I thought was a very reasonable price).

The ‘mini-budget’ (so called rather than an ‘actual’ budget in order to avoid any scrutiny by the Office for Budget Responsibility – interesting!) has actually turned out to be anything but ‘mini’. The Chancellor has announced the biggest tax cuts for about half a century, the effect being to shovel enormous amounts of money towards the already wealthy whilst the poor who pay practically no income tax, or none, will not benefit at all. This is financed by absolutely enormous borrowing estimated to be some £45 billion. This is pure ‘supply side’ economics in which economic growth is prioritised over every other economic aim. The government argues the action being taken will help bolster economic growth and increase the tax to fund public services. But critics argue the measures are a risk when public debt is already high and the cost of borrowing is rising. What the public reaction is going to be to such an unprecedented redistribution of wealth towards the already wealthy is going to be fascinating. When commentators have remarked to government ministers that these tax reforms are not ‘fair’ then a response has already been agreed. This is to argue that as the wealthy already pay more than their fair share of taxes then it is not unfair to hand some money back to them. The consensus view appears to be that the government has engaged upon the most enormous gamble – it is not impossible that ‘trickle down’ from the very wealthy might occur but it is extremely unlikely. The reactions of the stock markets i.e. those who actually lend us the money is interesting. The pound has fallen below $1.09 for the first time in 37 years. It was down by more than 3 cents on the day after US bank Citi declared the currency was facing the prospect of a confidence crisis. Even some Tory MP’s are unhappy as the Tory’s reputation for financial prudence is called into question. One cynical view is that the Tories know they are going to lose the next election so they are enriching themselves and their rich friends whilst they can and before they may be out of power for a generation.

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Thursday, 22nd September, 2022 [Day 920]

Today dawned somewhat duller and certainly cooler so we must get gradually used to the colder days of autumn. As we have now passed the date of September 21st yesterday, we are just more than half way between the longest day and the shortest day. In general, I quite like the autumn probably because it was always the start of something new such as a new university term or the start of a new job. October, which is nearly upon us, I quite enjoy but November is just a month that has to be ‘lived through’ before we start to think about the celebrations of Christmastime. However, we group of ‘old fogies’ who were due to meet for a get together in Winchester chose a date which unfortunately for us the railway unions did as well as they announced a strike on Otober 5th. So we have postponed our get-together until November which does have the bonus of alleviating what would otherwise be quite a dull month. Meg and I popped into the park not expecting to see anybody in particular but we did commune a little with Inveterate Octogenerian Hiker and then a few minutes later with Seasoned World Traveller. We put the world to rights, as we normally do, and then discussed the geopolitics of the moment which inevitably means Putin. We had both seen on the news that up to 1,300 Muscovites had come out onto the streets to protest against Putin mobilising anybody who had some military training in his war on the Ukraine. Considering that this might result in a severe beating following by up to 5 years in gaol in the most squalid of conditions, these protesters must be brave indeed. Waves of young men, often strongly encouraged by their parents have headed out of Russia as fast they can with Georgia being a particular favourite as there is no need (yet) to secure a visa. I think that many politically informed young men are calculating that the reservists might be called up first and they will almost certainly follow and they have no desire to be used as cannon fodder in Putin’s war. I heard a military analyst on Radio 4 this morning as I was getting ready to go shopping who was saying that the extremely low rate of morale in the current Russian front line in the Ukraine was all pervasive. This being the case, Putin’s hold on the areas that he has invaded must be a little tenuous to put it mildly. Perhaps, and this is being optimistic, things might come to such a pitch that the Russian soldiers might capitulate quite easily and the army collapse rather like a dam being breachd. Most predictions, though, are for a long slog in which it takes months, if not years, for the conflict to be resolved.

This afternoon was rather dominated by the fact that I walked down into town to fulfil a doctor’s appointment arranged a week or so ago. I joked with the doctor that whatever symptoms you have seem to diminish once you were actually sitting in the doctor’s waiting room. Actually, I was not unpleased to be making a visit down into the town because I needed to pick up some of the labels that I use to label my damson gin bottles. I had ordered some of my favourite design that I had used for years and they had been delivered to the Ryman’s store in Bromsgrove. Having picked up my ordered labels, I paid a visit to the carousel where the labels are usually stored and Sod’s Law sprung into operation as the store happened to have plenty in stock. Nonetheless, I bought several extra packets of labels so I now have sufficient not only for this year but for some years ahead. I also took the opportunity to get an important letter posted – it is quite rare for me to commit anything to the post these days. Then it was a walk home thrugh some gentle rain – Meg and I treated ourselves to an an ‘autumn’ type tea in which we make a thick mushroom soup combining the remainder of last week’s mushrooms with a tin of mushroom soup.

The international news is of course dominated by the news from Russia that Putin is going to try and mobilise 300,000 reervists to fight in the Ukraine. Our own Ministry of Defence (MOD) is arguing that the Russian president is likely to struggle with the logistical and administrative challenges of even mustering the 300,000 personnel. They are also saying that it is unlikely to be combat effective for months and the move is effectively an admission that Russia has exhausted its supply of willing volunteers to fight in Ukraine. The MOD continuedby saying that even this limited mobilisation is likely to be highly unpopular with parts of the Russian population and that Putin is accepting considerable political risk in the hope of generating much needed combat power. Although the censorship in Russia is incredibly pervasive, in these internet days many young Russians are undoubtedly discounting whatever Putin has to say and relying upon other news channels to find out what is going in their own country.

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Wednesday, 21st September, 2022 [Day 919]

Today started of as a fairly gloomy day with a lot of low hanging cloud but rain did not seem to be particularly imminent. By the time we were were ready to collect our newspaper and go for a walk in the park, having exchanged news with our domestic help who calls around on a Wednesday, the sky had turned a brilliant blue and we had an hour or so of very pleasant sunshine. This was not to last and when we eventually returned home, the skies had clouded over again. In the park, we met as we often do with Intrepid Octogenerian Hiker who was still making progress across the Floria Keys, according to the app on his smart phone. We also chatted with several dog owners that we know reasonably well by sight and speculated whether the dogs were even more keen to meet with each other in the park than their human owners were. After we returned home, we raided the fridge to see what kind of a meal we could rustle up and eventually settled upon making a risotto with some low carb rice that we had in stock, some kippers for the protein element and enhanced by vegetable stock, fried onions, petis pois and grated cheese. This all went down very well, I am pleased to say and then I proudly displayed to our domestic help the 42+ bottles of last year’s damson gin that I had recently bottled as well as the 7.35 litres of damson gin that I have just prepared from this year’s harvest. There is no need to panic just yet but I will be eagerly collecting some thirty 220cl bottles which I will need before Christmas for this year’s bottling. I still have a few smaller Kilner jars of damson vodka which I will get round to bottling in the next week or so but in the meanwhile, I thought it might be quite a good idea to sample some of this year’s vintage. So I took a smallish bottle, as yet unlabelled, and we cracked it open to see how it tasted. Meg, our domestic help and I all shared a little tipple and I am delighted that the quality this year is probably as good as ever and may even have exceeded last year. Last year’s preparation had been slowing maturing for a year now, rather than the more conventional fifteen weeks, and this extra maturation time may account for the perceived superior quality. I normally have a bit of a panic on just before Christmas to ensure that I have adequate supplies to provide each of my Pilates class members and some of the staff at the physiotherapy centre a little surprise Chrismas present. This has become a regular event now over the years so I suppose the word ‘surprise’ is a bit of a misnomer. Most of the damson gin is given away to friends anyway, so the amount that I drink myself is fairly minimal but having established a tradition, it is a little hard to break.

This week is a fairly quiet week, socially but next week will be far busier for us. On Monday next, we will be making a one day visit to North Wales for the funeral of Meg’s Uncle Ken. However, we have a good meal booked for us in a country club that we know well from previous visits that will ensure that we arrive at the crematorium reasonably rested and well-fed. Aterwards there is a church service and a post funeral ‘bash’ in the Methodist hall near to the church. Then on Tuesday, I shall be going off (on my own) at the invitation of some friends who live in South Oxfordshire and have invited me down for the day and I will be travelling to them by train. We also have a visit to the dentist next week and also our COVID vaccine booster jab.

Today has been the day when all the businesses in the country have been waiting to see how the government are going to help them with thir escalating fuel bills. Provision has already been made for the ‘capping’ of energy bills for domestic consumers and from 1st October, business customers (including schools, hospitals, voluntary organisations) will have their bills set for 50% of the wholesale price with the government responsible for any further increases. This will hold for six months but a review will be held after three months to see if there are any particular sectors under extreme stress. I think the general view is that we must ‘wait and see’ as it is reported that the energy costs of some businesses has been increasing five-fold. I am not sure why the rates for businesses should have such a dramatic increase compared with domestic consumers but without some financial support from central government, we would have seen business closure on a massive scale. As it is, the costs for supporting the business commnity will run into tens of billions of pounds and may be at least half of the costs of the furlough scheme which paid the wages of workers in the economy during the pandemic. Meanwhile the value of the pound has fallen to a 37-year low which will stack up even more costs for future generations (or ourselves) to bear.

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Tuesday, 20th September, 2022 [Day 918]

Today is the day when we are finally ‘funeralised out’ having had ten days of official mourning for Queen Elizabeth. When I have chatted with various people in the park, we were all generally of the view, even the pronounced monarchists, that we have had our fill of wall-to-wall media with coverage of practically nothing else and we all feel it is now time to move on. As with many things, I have conficting emotions and feelings about what we have just experienced. On the one hand, we have to pay tribute to the longest living monarch in British history and probably one of the longest serving in world history. Also the Queen had touched the lives of thousands of her subjects and there was a general upswelling of emotion and justifiable mourning. On the other hand, normal life must carry on and one wonders what might be happening with currency and energy markets whilst our gaze had been averted elsewhere. Today, The Times has published a very detailed souvenir edition with lots of stills from yesterday’s processions and funeral rituals but the details of these I blogged about yesterday. However, by way of ‘closure’ on this subject, I will mention an article in ‘The Times‘ by Caitlin Moran on the subject what the queues, the tears and the pomp has taught us all. Reading the reactions to this article, it appears that it has struck a chord and expressed beautifully what many have thought about the last few days – in fact, you could say that it was Times journalism at its best. One interesting facet that comes out in the article is the observation that nations display their innermost character at times like these and of course a characteristic of the British, is that we know how to queue with style, humour and a degree of stoicism. I think that one estimate is that up to 10,000 might have queued to pay their final respect to the Queen. Other nations no doubt will display their national characteristics in their own particular ways but the British ability to queue is a thing of wonder – but if one attempts to ‘queue jump’ the ire of those observing the unwritten rules will be visited upon one with a vengeance.

Today being a Tuesday, we go down to Waitrose and meet with our regular group of Waitrose ‘buddies’ This is now becoming a regular fixture for Tuesday mornings and I met with Seasoned World Traveller on one table whilst Meg was communing with three other elderly ladies whilst I flitted, as is my wont, from one table to the next. Naturally, we discussed the state funeral to a particular extent but also got onto the subject of ‘forbidden’ or rarely displayed verses of familiar hymns or anthems. We started off discussing the second verse of the National Anthem which hardly anybody knows and contains lines like ‘Confound their politics/Frustrate their knavish tricks’ which may have been directed against the Scots for all I know. Apparently, the second verse was meant to be sung yesterday but hardly anybody knew it – this was not surprising as the version printed in the Order of Service reprinted in The Times of yesterday actually printed the first verse and then the fifth. There is even a sixth verse that talks about sending a general to crush the rebellious Scots and this, too, is hardly known. In fact, once you get beyond the first verse, the verses that constitute our supposed national anthem become obscure or contentious – but certainly not well known. After our Tuesday get together, Meg and I went home and I changed into my track suit bottoms and attended my normal Pilates class at midday. In fact, I complimented my Pilates teacher that no doubt due to all of the stretches that we do regularly, I had managed to cope with the rigours of damson fruit picking with no adverse consequences (all one and half hours of it but with quite a lot of stretching involved)

There are two particular bits of political news, the consequences of which will apparent as the days unfold. On the domestic front, Liz Truss has announced that she is prepared to put up with short term unpopularity as a price worth paying to stimulate economic growth. It is being said that the US President, Jo Biden, has publically opined that trickle down economics, as espoused by Liz Truss, just does not work. On the international front, Putin may well be announcing this evening that rapid referenda that have no international status may be announced to formally annexe some recently occupied Ukranian provinces (oblasts) into the Russian State. It also appears that a ‘de facto’ mobilisation of the entire Russian male population may be on the cards but if this proves to be the case, then the excuse that this is just a ‘special military operation’ will be blown asunder and the Russian population may realise that they are actually in a war with the Ukraine.

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Monday, 19th September, 2022 [Day 917]

Today has been dominated as you might expect by the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II which, as Britain’s longest serving monarch, is a truly historic occasion. There were various elements to today’s proceedings. First the Queen’s body was transported on a gun carriage from Westminster Hall to Westminster Abbey, all with due ceremony. Then came a service before about 100 heads of state which was not overlong in accordance with the Queen’s wishes but was of the order of 45-60 minutes. The Archbishop of Canterbury gave a short but moving sermon and I wondered whether his words to the effect that those who cling to office for the sake of it and are quickly forgotten were directed to the Boris Johnson’s of this world. The next part of the proceedings was the tranportation of the Queen’s coffin on the gun carriage through central London from the Abbey to Marble Arch, also known as the Wellington Arch. This part was accompanied by seemingly hundreds of armed services in every shape and livery. Then the coffin was transported by a hearse along roads that led to Windsor with the crowds very much in evidence but generally silent apart from the occasional round of applause. The procession through Windsor and up ‘The Long Walk’ seem to take an age as the hearse moved so slowly and the Queen’s four children walked behind it. Then one or two moments of either deep symbolism (or ‘kitsch’ if you wish to be impolite) was the Queen’s pony, Emma, standing with its handler on a green area on the approach to Windsor castle. A similar touch was two of her corgis, Mick and Sandy, again brought out to witness the final procession of their sovereign. In the service of committal itself, there were two moments of great symbolic importance. The first of these was when the regalia of the monarch, the orb, sceptre ad he Crown itself were removed from the coffin and placed upon the high altar of St. George’s Chapel. The second symbolic act was the Lord Chamberain deliberately snapping his ‘wand of office’ and then placing it upon the monarch’s coffin. This symbolic act was last performed 70 years ago at the funeral service of George VI but has never before been filmed on television. I did wondered, though, whether the wand of office had been ‘doctored’ by a fretsaw to make it sure that it broke when it was intended to. When it did come to the actual committal, I was mildly surprised to see that the coffin was actually placed on some type of lift and actually descended at the appropriate moment into the vault. There will be a private ceremony just for members of the Royal Family itself at 7.30 from which the TV cameras are justifiably excluded. Although I am not a great hymn singer, when it came to the service in St. George’s chapel, one of the hymns sung was ‘Christ is made the sure foundation‘ which is one of the hymns sung at my own wedding in 1967. I happen to know this because when I was digitising the wedding photgraphs in preparation for my 50th wedding anniverary celebrations, I found the organist’s original notes with details of all of the music played. This hymn was a Latin hymn dating from the 7th century although I did read somewhere that Henry Purcell might have revised it. It was deployed when Pope Benedict, one of the first popes to visit the Abbey in centuries, processed down the knave with the Archbishop of Canterbury. The video of this is quite notable as an errant order of service which had been inadvertently dropped during the procession was expertly kicked out of the way by a nun, perfectly in time with the music, at a later point in the procession. One piece of pure theatre after the coffin was lowered into the vault was a lone piper playing a lament and gradually walking away so that the congregation just heard the sounds of the lament fading away into the distance.

The whole of this operation has been planned for decades. We heard a Deputy Commissioner of the Met, one Steve Roberts (who we happen to know as our next door neigbour but one in Leicestershire when he was only 18) explaining that these plans had been in existence for about 30 years but are constantly revised and updated under the code name ‘Operation London Bridge’ So we do this ceremonial stuff incredibly well and I suppose is one of the UK’s contributions to world culture. To the inexpert eye, everything seemd to work to perfection but I suppose there is always room for things to go wrong. The reason why the monarch’s body is pulled by a team of naval ratings is because at Queen Victoria’s funeral service, one or more of the horses got restive, a crucial trace broke and the gun carriage itself was practically overturned. A quick thinking German prince saved the day by suggesting that the naval ratings be deployed to pull the gun carriage and hence a tradition was born.

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Sunday, 18th September, 2022 [Day 916]

Today was an interesting day. Yesterday, Meg took a bit of a tumble in the garden whilst she was helping to bring the washing in off the clothes line. I ascertained that no bones were broken or things displaced so I sat her down and gve her a banana and a cup of hot, sweet tea to cope with any potential shock. She was insistent that she wanted to attend church in about half an hour’s time so this we did. However, this morning, Meg took a bit of extra bedrest and I kept her warm with a bit of electric blanket and dosed her up on ibuprofin to deal with any inflammation. She has some slightly sore ribs and pulled muscles but is basically OK. Once I made sure that she was warm and comfortable, I shot off down to the park and was fortunate to coincide with both of my regular park buddies. I had taken a flask of coffee and I drank this quickly as well as giving my park friends a quick update on what was happening to Meg (coupled with a bad joke) and then got home within three quarters of an hour. Then I cooked a lightning lunch with some beef that I had had cooked and saved half in the freezer so I managed to turn out a ‘normal’ Sunday lunch fairly quickly.

I had allocated this afternoon to bottling my damson gin and this went all quite smoothly once I got my production line all set up. First, though, I had the tedious part done which is pricking each fruit with a special old-fashioned can opener I use for the purpose and I managed to get all of this done before lunch. I sterilised the Kilner jars with baby sterilising solution and then dolloped 450 grams of damsons into each jar, complemented it with 350 grams of sugar and then filled up with 0.75 litre of gin – this combination of ingredients happens to exactly fill a 1.5 litre Kilner jar excellently. The I give each a quick stir, an equally quick shake and finally I invert the whole jar to help the sugar, gin and damsons to adequately mix. I store the completed jars in some cheap plastic washing up bowls which I keep in the agrage to assist with light leakages that sometimes occurs when the jars are inverted. After a day or so, I will turn the jars the right way up and then give each a shake which I will repeat at weekly interevals. This means that the damson gin will be ready for bottling just before Christmas. I see from my record book that I bottled 550 pricked damsons last year on 18th September and this year is an almost an exact repeat of last year. I have bottled 560 damsons this year which has produced 7.35 litres of damson gin altogether which should give me 30 miniature sized bottles once I have persuaded friends and cafes to donate any of those little bottles that come into their possession.

Today is the day before the formal funeral of the late Queen Elizabeth and I will tune in at varous points of the day tomorrow, if only to listen to the music and observe the reactions of the crowd and the congregation. By reading Sky News, I have just learned as well that the crown, which now rests on her coffin, is made of gold and set with 2,868 diamonds, 17 sapphires, 11 emeralds, 269 pearls and four rubies. It contains jewels including the Black Prince’s Ruby, the Stuart Sapphire and the Cullinan II diamond. St Edward’s Sapphire, set in the centre of the topmost cross, is said to have been worn in a ring by St Edward the Confessor and discovered in his tomb in 1163. At 8.00pm his evening, there is to a minute’s silence across the whole of the country. I must say that I would not like to be that part of the diplomatic service and funeral organisers who will have to work out who is seated next to whom. Also, the transport arrangements are going to be ‘original’ given that practically every head of state apart from Jo Biden who will travel in ‘The Beast’ (heavily armoured vehicle) will have to rub shoulders with each other on a fleet of buses. At least by the end of tomorrow, all of this will be over and we can get back to normal life and politics. The government has been promising a welter of announcements including a financial statement scheduled for next Friday which is being deliberately not being called a ‘budget’ I suspect to avoid the scrutiny of the Office for Budget Responsibility which would otherwise give a formal forecast of public finances. This represents a break from all budgets since the Conservatives came to power in 2010 and displays an unfortunate authoritarian tendency to not expose the projected financial plans to a proper independent scrutiny.

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Saturday, 17th September, 2022 [Day 915]

Today was a much colder day but beautifully bright. As no rain threatened today, we took the opportunity to put a washing line’s worth of washing out to maximise on the opportunities provided by a bright September day. We collected our newspaper and then made our way into the park, a little later than usual. Then we got joined in the park by Seasoned World Traveller and we exchanged some gossip of the day. We never know quite what kind of topic we are going to end up but we got onto the topic of talking about job interviews we have had. We have both had the experience of attending job interviews that you know you are not going to get but go along for the experience. In circumstances like this, do you say what you really feel or do you try and preserve some semblance of being diplomatic. We have both had experiences of attending interviews when we knew that we would never succeed and have had the pleasure of walking out if we feel we have not been treated particularly well. Then it was home to a lunch of a beef mince stew, enhanced by onions and peppers plus a dollop of brown sauce which is a way in which I cheat slightly to get an enhanced flavour.

Now that I have all of the elements in place and it was a fine day, I decided immediately after lunch to pick the damsons. Looking at the records I have keep over the years, I have generally picked at about this time of year or sometimes a few days earlier, by date. It was just as well I picked today, though, because a few had already dropped off the trees but those remaining on the trees very quickly dropped into my hand. I like to count the number of fruits that I have picked because this is quite a reliable way of measuring out final quantities rather than weighing them out. I knew that last year I had picked about 550 fruits and I picked the same quantity this year which is about 10 Kilner jars worth which should give me about 7 litres worth of prepared gin/vodka. To help me keep count, I have a collection of 1p pieces which I transfer from one pocket to another after I have counted to a hundred. When ultimately bottled, this should give me about 30 bottles worth of small 220cl bottles which is the size I prefer when I eventually make presents of them all. This year, it only took me about an hour or perhaps a little longer to collect the fruit – needless to say, the ‘low hanging fruit’ is easy and quick to pick but then I use a long handled rake to pull down the taller branches within reach so that I can pick the more inaccessible fruits. The tedious task that lies ahead is to put about five gashes in each fruit to allow the gin/vodka to penetrate it but I have found over the years that one of those really old-fashioned tin openers that used to leave a really jagged edge on the tin is an excellent tool for making these gashes in the fruit. After this tedious ask which will take several hours, the actual preparation of the gin itself is a simple enough procedure.

This evening and I think tomorrow evening as well, the BBC have pulled off a master stroke which is a repeat showing of Paddington followed by Paddington 2. After the Queen had participated in a really humorous sketch featuring Paddington (bear), last Christmas, this is fondly remembered as the way in which The Queen shows that she had a tremendous sense of humour. So amongst many of the floral tributes, it is not unusual to find a ‘Paddington Bear’ complete with the words ‘Thank you, Ma’am’ which was one of the closing scenes of the sketch. Some even go as far as leaving a couple of marmalade sandwiches (again, part of the sketch and the whole Paddington story) in their little sealed bag. The authorities are having to gently point out that this is not a good idea as straightforward floral tributes in their thousand are compostable whereas Paddington Bears are not. I can imagine, though, this has proved to be a completely unplanned but innovative way in which young children brought up on Paddington and the recent sketch can make a connection with the death of the Queen and the funeral tributes.

The queue of people wishing to pay their last tribute to the Queen is now 13.5 hours long – this, itself, is down from a high of 24 hours earlier in the day. Most people are saying that their wait is well worth while. A common sentiment that I have heard expressed more than once is that of the Queen can reign for 70 years, what is a few hours of waiting in order to make a final farewell. Once in the queue, people seem to exchanging their life stories and making friendships that will endure. The normal ‘rules’ that Londoners have (do not make eye contact with strangers, do not talk to other people on public transport and so on) seem to have been completely swept away and the queuing population has found the pleaure of actually talking to each other.

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Friday, 16th September, 2022 [Day 914]

It was a beautiful and fine early autumn day but the temperature was certainly dropping by a degree or two and there was quite a sharp breeze. Last night, I completed the bottling of most of last year’s supply of damson gin and damson vodka but not having labelled the Kilner jars, I am not absolutely sure which was which. However, it was quite satisfying to get this job accomplished as it should have been done months ago. I add one or two drops (literally) of almond essence, leave the bottles inverted so that the almond oil diffuses and then store the bottles in a large cardboard tray in the garage. Once you get into gear, the bottling does not take too long but there is a fair amount of cleaning up of Kilner jars and general tidying up and putting away of equipment but all of this got done. As a finishing touch and to make sure that the bottles looked neatly stacked, I sorted them out to size, shape, type of screw cap and so on, only to realise that I now only had only the faintest idea of which was gin-based and which was vodka based. When we were in the park, the breeze started to intensify and I was conscious of the fact that if we had a stormy night, the low hanging fruit of the damson trees would be shaken loose and we would lose almost the entire crop. So I thought I had better go to my local Asda in search of really large bottles (1.5 litres worth) of really cheap gin. I was in luck and bought six 1.5 litre bottles (and 9 litres is just about what I have just bottled from last year’s crop) plus two big bags of sugar to supplement recently bought supplies and four of the largest Kilner jars which Asda often sell at this time of year. I had two large fabric shopping bags stuffed full of liquor and accompaniments so I thought I would avail myself of a shopping trolley and my car was parked about 200 yards away. All was well until I got to a point just beyond the supermarket when all of the wheels locked. Whether this is a special design feature or a complete coincidence, I really cannot say but I turned the trolley around and dragged it to the vicinity of the car so that I could load the precious cargo into the boot. Then the trolley got returned to the environs of the supermarket when the wheels magically unlocked themselves. I now have everything in place to process the next harvest which Meg and I inspected this afternoon and the damsons really are large and ready to fall, as well as being quite accessible. If the weather is fine in the morning, I may well have a picking tomorrow morning but I intend to leave some of the fruit on the trees if they will stay on the trees that long so that when our friends return from holiday on about next Tuesday, I will have a supply of damsons ready for them (as I promised) There is always a bit of a problem what to do with the ‘discarded’ fruit. I used a really large cooking vessel that we can occasionally deploy for large cook-ups and stewed the fruit for an hour or so with the modicum of sugar. Then to test it out, Meg and I treated ourselves to a dollop of the compôte, some vanilla icecream and some yogurt and the result was delicious. The cômpote was nowhere near as tart as I imagined that it might be so more – some obliging friends and relatives might even turn up some of my copious supplies (which I have now bottled) into a tart or a pie.

The incessant focus on the Royal funeral is getting to us both a little but, hopefully, after Monday it will all be over and we can get back to normal life – and politics. Whilst a lot of government activity is ‘de facto’ on hold until after the funeral, the new Chancellor of the Exchequeur has let it be known that he is considering lifting the ‘cap’ of banker’s bonuses. The rules, first adopted Europe-wide, put a cap on a bonus that limited the extent of the bonus to no more than 200% of the recipient’s salary – as though this wasn’t enough. The intention of the cap was to try to curb the reckless behaviour of bankers using weird financial instruments that brought about the financial crash that preceded the pandemic. The government reason that attracting international bankers will grow the economy and hence the tax take -but are not bankers of all people completely adept at siphoning off money into obscure tax havens so they are never taxed at the appropriate rate in any case? I wonder if the forthcoming funeral is just an excuse to bury bad news whilst the attention of the population is distracted. The government have only announced an intention so far and not implemented the lifting of the cap on banker’s bonuses but if this passes muster in the House of Commons, it will really show the population whose side the politicans are on.

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Thursday, 15th September, 2022 [Day 913]

It was rather an overcast day but rain did not threaten so we were happy to make our daily trip to the park. Being a Thursday, I got to my favourite supermarket at about 1 minute past 8 in the morning and as usual I could do a quick whizz around unimpeded by other shoppers. Practically everything on my mental list was actually in stock, which removes frustration. There was an article in today’s Times which shows that Aldi have now overtaken Morrisons to move into the 4th position of supermarkets by market share. It is being said that some middle class shoppers can now find Waitrose quality at much reduced prices, but Aldi also has a secret weapon. This is the famed ‘middle aisle’ which is devoted to hardware, kitchen and clothing bargains. When I have done my regular food shopping, I treat myself to a trip up and down the middle aisle to see if I am tempted by anything. This is not just theoretical as about a month I bought a couple of ceramic saucepans which are a delight to cook with and are so easy to clean. I suspect that many of the items are ‘end of range’ items from reputable manufacturers but if an item sells out, that is it – it certainly cannot be relied upon to find it the following week.

In the park today, we met with a ‘doggy’ couple we have had conversations with before and to whom I told my Queen and corgi anecdote when we saw them last Friday. We also coincided with Inveterate Octogenerian Hiker whose daughter-in-law has presented him with an app on his phone which ‘pretends’ that he is actually walking a favourite route else in the world. When he has completed the required number of kilometres he is entitled to be rewarded with a commemmorative medal.Today, he was near the start of a new walk and was located on the Florida keys (an archipelago of small sandy islands on a coral reef). So we left him as he was starting on the next leg of his journey and will evidently see him again in a few days time to check his progress.

After lunch this afternoon, I set myself the task of getting the bulk of my damson gin/vodka bottled. This is not just a job of filling smaller bottles from larger ones but decanting the fluid part of the Kilner jars and straining the contents through some fine muslin dish cloths. As I suspected, my limiting factor was the number of small i.e. 200cl bottles and last night I was engaged in the time consuming task of soaking and scratching off some labels from old bottles. By the end of this afternoon, though, I had bottled two thirds of last year’s crop which was a bumper one. I have filled 42 bottles so far but unfortunately I forgot to label which was gin and which was vodka. However, I am pretty sure that I put the gin versions into the largest Kilner jars and the vodka in the intermediate size. I had to do a quick tasting to ascertain which was which but I do not imagine there is a world of diference between the two. I have to ensure that I have enough Ryman sticky labels of the design I like and have used over the years. I seem to have supplies enough for about two thirds of this years vintage but I have managed to order some extra labels which should be delivered to the Ryman store in a couple of days. After the bottling has been done, there is quite a mountain of Kilner jars to be washed up and eventually sterilised but I have made a good start on this and will certainly now have jars on hand to accommodate this year’s harvest once it is picked.

The news media is still dominated by the news of the Royal funeral and today is the opportunity for members of the general public to bid their last farewells. I have found it quite interesting to listen to the personal testimonies of those intending to join the 4-mile queue. Two recurrent accounts are typically found. The first is members of the armed services who feel almost duty bound to bid farewell to the monarch in whose name they have fought and may have been injured. A second category are people who have met the Queen in the past and have such long lasting memories that they almost feel obligated to pay their respects. There is a live camera feed of Westminster Hall on the Parliament Channel and people often do not know how to react until the moment at which they are in front of the catafalque. Many bow their heads, some make the sign of the cross, ex-military personnel tend to give a salute and others just have a few seconds of almost personal communication with their ex-monarch. Many are saying that they would not have missed the experience for the world, even though they have to queue for hours beforehand.

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Wednesday, 14th September, 2022 [Day 912]

Today was rather dominated by the fact that half way through the morning, Meg had an optician’s appointment so whilst she was having her eyes tested, I availed myself of a wander through Poundland where I picked up some cut-price cleaning products. As it was a bit late for a park visit, we went home and had our elevenses at home for a change. Wednesday is the day our domestic help vists us and it was helpful that we could sort out Meg’s wardrobe for her Uncle Ken’s funeral which is in about ten days time. Whilst I was out on the road, I bumped into the wifely part of the Irish couple down the road and she managed to convey some good news to us about a health scare she had had recently. When we got home, we organised a sort of mélange of vegetables (onions, peppers, tomatoes, peas, mushrooms) to which mixture I added some sauce and the last of our chicken thighs which had been well and truly seared off. This made quite a tasty dish that turned out to be enormous but Meg managed practically all of hers and the rest of the mixture was gratefully received by our domestic help (who often relieves me of my excess food when I cook too much).

This afternoon was dominated by the solemn procession of the body of the late Queen carried on a gun carriage whilst her children walked behind it. Prince Andrew was, of course, present and had probably seen as much intense military conflict as anybody being a helicopter pilot during the Falklands war (if my memory serves me correctly) However, I have to say that he walked with a truly military bearing as he alone of the Royal Family was dressed in a morning coat as the Queen had stripped him of all of his military titles. However, he was still allowed to wear his military medals. The crowd was largely silent interrupted with occasional bursts of respectful applause. After the scenes of Diana’s funeral, I half expected some much more overt displays of public emotion but the crowd was largely silent. The procession ended with the Queen’s body borne aloft and placed upon the catafalque in Westminster Hall – as in Edinburgh, I had my heart in my mouth thinking about the soldiers who had to perform their tasks flawlessly, which they did. The commentator observed that even members of the military who have the concept of ‘stiff upper lip’ instilled into them exhibited the occasional tear or welling up. When Meghan came into view, joining Prince Harry, it appeared to ne that she had indeed been shedding some tears. I think all observers of the scene were struck by the solemnity and the poignancy of the whole occasion. As the Queen’s body will lie in state for four days, then members of the public are lining up to pay their respects. I have heard an estimate that the length of the queue is up to three miles long and official government advice is to expect a wait of up to 30 hours before your moment has come. People do seem to have come from various parts of the globe to pay their respects, catching flights at the last moment in order to get here on time. Actually, I do remember that on the occasion of Winston Churchill’s funeral, I was twenty years old and a young civil servant working in a ministry in central London. I went to the location (probably Westminster Hall) to view the coffin if only as it seemed the right thing to do. I mentioned this to my son and wondered if he would have done the same if he had been of my age and working in London at the time and he told me that he would. The service when the body of the Queen was received in Westminster Hall was beautifully chosen but I dare say that the plans have existed for years.

After lunch and watching the procession, I set to work in my long delayed bottling of the damson gin. This is slightly complicated until I get into my stride. It involves locating the bottles of the appropriate size and making sure that old labels have been removed after which the bottles have to be sterilised. After that, each Kilner jar of damson gin has to be decanted and filtered through some muslin clothes using a variety of vessels so that each small bottle is eventually filled. So far, I have managed about a third of the whole task and I suspect that the limiting factor may well be the bottles themselves. I do have some wine size bottles that I may have to use eventually and, of course, I can always store the excess in the original gin bottles that I bought when the damson gin was laid down about a year ago now. As is often the case, when the production line gets organised, these jobs can be done fairly quickly if all of the relevant supplies are in place to start with. Each little bottle will be ‘primed’ with a very few dropos of almond essence which is of the ‘tricks of the trade I have picked up over the years but one has to be careful to limit this to only 2-3 drops which is not always easy.

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