It's got a basket

Three bike items:

1) Sunday, on the way back from the cottage, I called in at Ian(&Kate)'s to check out his spare road bike. He is a serious, 100k on a Sunday morning, cyclist and has upgraded from aluminium to titanium! I wanted to know whether it was the (25-year-old) bike that was knackered or the (52-year-old) body ("Cycling shouldn't be this hard!"). Unfortunately I was not able to test ride the bike as it had no pedals! So back again in two weeks.

2) Monday I decided to "treat" myself to some clip-ins to replace the (20-year-old) toe-clip&straps arrangement that I put on my bike shortly after I bought it off Penny and read Richard's Bicycle Book. Shimano I think they are.

3) Tuesday; anyway, my bike has pannier carriers with an old wire basket cable-tied to it. So uncool - no serious road-biker would be seen dead with such a thing. But for me practical as I dump my old shoulder bag into it containing the clean shirt to change into at work, post-shower. This morning Mary and I saw a similar old bike but for a basket he had a wooden Chateau Cissac box attached at the back; now that is style!

So what top growth claret box could I attach to the back of a Ian's road bike? Let me check out the cellar now :-)

New World versus Old

A good wine tasting will have a theme to make it interesting and educational - be it 'vertical' (Vega Sicilia from the '80s and '90s), 'horizontal' (the 2004 vintage in Italy), 'varietal' (Rieslings from around the world), 'price' (supermarket reds for under a fiver), 'other' (bring something odd that the others might not have tried).

A popular theme is New World versus Old. Last night's tasting at the Charteris Wine Society went one better: Bordeaux versus South Africa. The wines were supplied by Virgin Wines and ably presented by the society's chairman, Jeremy. He knew his stuff but then so he should, he used to be a wine-buyer for Sainsbury's. The wines were:

Bordeaux

South Africa

Chateau de Roques Bordeaux Sauvignon Blanc 2004

Churchaven Stellenbosch Sauvignon Blanc 2004

Sichel Rocherolles Rouge 2003

Three Gables Cabernet Sauvignon / Merlot 2004

Chateau Macquin St Georges St Emilion 2002

Radford Dale Merlot 2001/2002

Chateau Maucaillou Cru Bourgeois 1993

Rustenberg John X Merriman 2002

Worst of the night: the Sichel Rocherolles Rouge (slightly musty, little fruit).
Best of the night: Chateau Maucaillou Cru Bourgeois 1993 (good extraction, slightly smokey nose, gentle tannins).

Not entirely surprisingly I preferred the New world and Mary favoured the Old, apart from the last pair when we switched allegiances.

Then we wandered off to Carluccio's Smithfield Caffé for supper. Noisy but good food, I had an excellent liver - to eat that is, I am sure sure about the state of my own after all this wine.

Always wear a helmet

Around 70% of the cyclists killed on the road have major head injuries and over half of cyclists injured have head injuries. Source: ROSPA.

I always wear a helmet [see entry "And a trifle uncool"]. So does my mate Ian and it saved him from serious injury, possibly death. Just look what it did to the car:



Don't argue: Just Do It! Wear a helmet!

More stats from ROSPA:

Cyclist Casualties (2003):
 • Killed: 114
 • Seriously Injured: 2,297
 • Slightly Injured: 14,622
 • Total: 17,033

Cycling Accidents:
 • 90% occur in urban areas
 • 75% happen at, or near, a road junction
 • 80% occur in daylight
 • 80% of cyclist casualties are male
 • About one third of the cyclists killed or injured are children
 • Around three quarters of cyclists killed have major head injuries.

Another source of info on cycling in the metropolis: London Cycling Campaign

Disappointing progress but...

When we arrived at the Hovel-in-the-Hills™ on Saturday morning we were a little disappointed by the lack of progress on the fabric of the building. No more cones re-furbished and the collapsed trulli was just as we left it four weeks ago.

Daniele did admit that Francesco, the stonemason and critical-path resource, had been away working on another project (typical builder!). But we were assured that he was now back on our case and much progress would be seen by our next visit in five weeks time.

On the other hand the internal wall at the back of the lamia was up which made the kitchen and bathroom into real rooms and much easier to visualise where the fittings, worktops and units would go.


Mary, Daniele and friend discuss kitchen layout

A big surprise was in the other bathroom. Daniele know that room had once held a fire by the soot on the ceiling (hence the false chimney he put on the top of the cone). But when the lads stripped out the old sanitary ware they discovered an actual chimney behind the plaster. This will become an alcove with shelves for toiletries.


Bathroom stripped to reveal old chimney

Flashing blue bike

Friday lunchtime Mary and I converged on Stansted via Liverpool Street from our several places of employment. While Mary was changing buses at Mansion House she spotted a "Bobby on a bicycle" in hot pursuit of a cyclist who had run a red light. Despite a slight paunch said rozzer apprehended the miscreant and had words with him.

These days the police ride BMX-style bikes, no more the old sit-up-and-beg; not surprising really if they are to engage in hot pusuits. What made this bike remarkable was that it had a flashing blue light and a "POLICE" sign under the saddle (and presumably at the front as well).

We were heading for Standsted for the Ryanair flight to Brindisi and our monthly progress check on the Hovel-in-the-Hills™ of which more tomorrow.

Emergency drinking trousers

One challenge with cycling in shorts and changing into a suit when I get to work is managing the logistics. If I go out for a drink after work not many wine bars' dress code extend to lycra shorts and a T-shirt.

Last night I met up with Martin Haswell (old KGS chum as previously blogged [1], [2]). I did not want to go out in the suit otherwise how do I cycle home and how do I get the suit back to work the next day?

The answer is the "Emergency Drinking Trousers" (pat. pending). I keep a pair of trousers in the cupboard at work and change into them (over lycra if cycling home). Then cycle in the next morning with the trousers rolled up in the saddle bag. Problem solved!

Faster than Paula Radcliffe

I have previously blogged how Paula can run faster than I can cycle. But today I knocked 6 minutes off the journey time from Wandsworth to Drury Lane. Thus increasing my average speed from 11.3 mph to 14.8 mph beating Paula's 11.5 mph.

I would like to claim it is all the training but I haven't done any, nor have I cycled for a fortnight. No, it was simply that I hit all the lights on green and that made the difference.

PS.
Suddenly decided to recheck my maths and realised I must have had a funny turn. A distance of 6.4 miles in 32 minutes is in fact 12.0 mph, and Paula's speed was 11.4 mph. So I was always faster (on a bike).

PPS.
Mind you, I bet if you put Paula on a bike it wouldn't be me who was the faster.

1 Lombard Street Restaurant

Wednesday night Mary and I went to 1 Lombard Street Restaurant with Pete&Amanda and had a superb meal. If you booked through Top Table they did a 9 course Menu Degustation for GBP 45. I cannot tell you what we drank but this was the menu:

• Carpaccio of tuna with oriental spices, ginger and lime vinaigrette, black radish
• Feuillete of smoked Finnan haddock with quail egg, Coleman’s English mustard sauce
• Salad of artichokes, wild mushrooms and French beans, pumpkin seed oil and old balsamic vinegar
• Grilled scallop with Provencal vegetable confit, fennel seed and saffron jus
• Seared foie gras, parsnip cream and white truffle oil
• Poached new season lamb with spring vegetables, lamb and mint jus, Jersey royal potatoes
• Pave of Angus beef, morels and vin jaune a la cream, beef reduction, baby leeks
• Warm compote of strawberries in black pepper and Sauternes crème fraiche sorbet
• Feuillantine of caramelised Granny Smith apple, Guinness ice cream and glazed hazelnuts

All excellent but for me the standout dish was the Coleman’s English mustard sauce that went so well with the Finnan Haddock.

One disappointment was that we originally tried to get John&Andrea to join us but we cancelled the booking when Amanda discovered she was double booked. Then her prior engagement cancelled at the last minute so we rebooked and made an eleventh hour dash; too late to give J&A enough time to organise baby-sitting (we reckoned). Apologies Andrea, next time!

The wanderer returns

Not surprisingly there were few internet cafes seen in the glens so I may cheat and retro blog some back-dated entries later.

In the meantime we got back Saturday having got up early and decided to drive all the way home in one hit. This meant we could relax Sunday including a short walk around Wandsworth. Nestling amongst the light industrial units is Wandle Creek where the river Wandle flows into the Thames.

Strange to see, amongst the city sprawl a pair of grey herons, a small flotilla of tufted ducks, a couple of coots, a lone wagtail, the usual rabble of mallards and a couple of pointy-beaked chaps who we think were great crested grebes.

It may not rival the osprey we saw last week but still a heartening sight in the scruffy back lanes of SW18.

Out of Office

Off to Bonnie Scotland for a week, touring the Great Glen with Mary, her Mum and Mum's friend Jane. So unless I find a cyber cafe and the time to use it I shall be maintaining radio silence until next Sunday (05-Jun-05).

Toodle-pip!

Puglia's Prime

Thanks to Elizabeth for pointing out this article in the Washington Post: Puglia's Prime. I particularly liked the last paragraph in this extract. Bear in mind we are in the Valle D'Itria between Locorotondo and Cisternino.

<quote>
Puglia's Prime. Culture, cooking, miles of coastline. . . No wonder this is Italy's newest 'next' place.

By Robert V. Camuto, Special to The Washington Post, Sunday, May 22, 2005

Trulli Different

---

The center of Puglia's fashionable tourism is in the Valle D'Itria, the land of trulli.

Trulli are centuries-old stone and masonry cottages built from cylindrical room-size chambers -- each enclosed by conical stone roofs. Alberobello is the trulli capital, a village of more than a thousand still inhabited trulli, laid out side by side and topped with geometric pinnacles.

Walking through a neighborhood of whitewashed trulli with beaded doorway curtains and satellite dishes, many of the roofs painted with ancient Christian or astrological symbols, the effect is otherworldly. Is it Dr. Seuss, or some corner of ancient Byzantium? The magic is broken only when you hit one of Alberobello's main tourist streets, where the trulli are filled with souvenir shops hawking olive oil and liqueurs in trullo-shaped bottles.

Just as I was wondering where the trulli came from, I found a rather studious book titled "The TRULLI -- Where did they come from?" It explains that the dwellings proliferated around the 15th century in a complex tax scam. Local counts -- then under an Aragonese king -- allowed farmers and shepherds to build houses on feudal lands without mortar. By allowing dry "temporary" dwellings, the counts were able to avoid the king's taxes on urban areas while pocketing what they collected from the local peasantry.

Outside Alberobello, on the roads to Locorotondo and Cisternino, the countryside is loaded with storybook images: small walled farms with old trulli homes and perfectly disintegrating trulli ruins. Alongside them are trulli hotels, trulli restaurants and big neo-trulli vacation homes.

© 2005 The Washington Post Company
</quote>

Rock muncher

Now this is a serious Monster Munch. Mary and I were both most impressed by this machine in the field below the Hovel-in-the-Hills ™. It is chewing the rocks you see on the right into the soil you see on the left. It does a field in a day.



According to an on-looker, "Il Padrone" who owns the field will be planting Primitivo but the following day the driver told us it will be a white grape. Either way it will be a "Good Thing" to be able to look out the back and see rows of vines.

It fell down...

Last Monday when talking to Daniele, the architect, to arrange our meeting on Friday just gone, he said "the trulli with the crack, it fell down". What!?

Now it didn't look too bad the last time we saw it, that crack, but when removing the chiancarelle (stone roof tiles) the changes in stress were, apparently, enough to cause the wall to give way:

Dual purpose bag

On the way out to Italy this weekend (Thursday evening, a long weekend) I was reading the film processing envelope in the seat-back pocket in front of me and musing on the effect of digital cameras on the postal processing labs. I haven't used them for years but they were much cheaper than Boots if you didn't mind the four day turnaround time and they gave you a free film.

So here they, or their descendants, are still twenty years on with a ludicrously cheap introductory offer of 95p and you still get a free film. How do they do it? Well it is all in the p&p and the extras - like get your chemical films on a CD as well as paper prints.

Then I turned over the bag and noticed the rubric: "This is a dual purpose bag". Ah! That explains the plastic lining. It doubled as a sick bag, how <ingenious ¦ ecological ¦ economical >

Born To Boogie DVD review

Well not really a review but memories from the Pre-Release screening. So as promised here they are...

Tony Visconti, Rolan Bolan, me.

Theme for a dragon

It felt very strange sitting there in the dark at the advance screening of the Born To Boogie DVD. I was close to being one of the oldest there apart from those who had been active participants at the time. I was not a T.Rex fan; I was a Tyrannosaurus Rex fan. Seeing the sights and sound of that era took me into flashback. I was one of the earlier would-be hippy generation. Like many I listened to John Peel's late show under the bedclothes and was introduced to many a strange musik. That was pre-Deborah (08-May-1968) as I rushed out to order it as soon as it was announced. I continued to buy every single and album until early 1972 (Telegram Sam and Electric Warrior were my last purchases).

The John Peel years

Following the sad passing of John, Michael Heatley rushed out not a biography but "An Appreciation" entitled "John Peel: A Life in Music" (ISBN: 1843171570). A passable non-biography covering the main chronological aspects of JP's life and giving, of course, many mentions of Marc, the early support and the subsequent parting. What I had not appreciated was how much a part of my life John had been. Not just through my listening to him but also my school and college friends. Pete at college was heavily into Zappa and Captain Beefheart and who do you think introduced those to the British public? John occasionally played the weird poet Ivor Cutler who I even went to see live at the Roundhouse.

The Fraudster years

I feel something of a fraud - not a real fan - I am not even sure how many times I saw Marc. You would think that would be indelibly engraved in my memory but not so. I thought I had seen him twice: once at an open-air concert as a Tyrannosaurus duo and once as a T.Rex quartet. When my parents moved house I thought I had chucked the only ticket stub I had. Subsequently I found three more. So did I mis-remember that discard? Was it one of the three or not? Had I seen him four or three times?

The Dandy years

And then there were the clothes. God that took me back as well! I had the full set: the crushed velvet flares, the tank top, the floppy rounded shirt collar and, of course, the platform sole boots. A special trip to London from boondocks Kenilworth down to Camden Town for 2-inch soles and 4 inch heels; although I wimped out and went for brown not silver. I remember Dad trying them on and strutting the living room carpet saying they made him feel like John Wayne! I still have those boots at the back of the cupboard, I just cannot bear to chuck them - the excuse is "spray them silver for a fancy dress party". But the flared jeans had to go, I am no longer waist 28", inside leg 32".

The Absentee years

Then I drifted away. I never bought past EW. Well actually I did but only out of the remaindered bin or second hand not hot off the presses. The college years introduced me to Madonna and Wam! Like a Virgin and Wake me up Before You Go-Go. And where are they now? ABC, Eurythmics and... Even so it was a shock on my birthday to hear of Marc's death. I was on a small Greek island, Andros, with Sheridan, and on the 20th of September, as it was my 25th birthday, we treated ourselves to a copy of The Times for the crossword and news of dear old Blighty. There in a small item, overshadowed by the passing of The King, was the news.

That night, for the only time on that fateful holiday (for more reasons than one) I switched from Amstel to Retsina. Drank more than was necessary and head-butted the low-hanging veranda on the way out. That hurt.

The Rediscovery years

Then in February 1996 I briefly acquired a CompuServe account through work for use with a geographically dispersed project. I discovered AltaVista (how did they lose the plot to Google?) and first typed in my name and second Marc Bolan. So he was never far below the surface. What did I find but The Ancients Scrolls of Beltane and Ole Catblack's Devotional site. The former was the unique Rickster, the latter I never found out who he was and he later dropped off the radar. Rick however remained a global force in preserving Marc's memory. So fast forward through the TillDawn Years, the album reviews, the re-listening to all the albums grooved into my brain.

And that is how I came to be sitting in a darkened cinema watching Born To Boogie. Tomorrow I will rush down to Virgin Megastore at Tottenham Court Road and treat myself to a serious chunk of nostalgia.

Amethystos (under the counter)

Bit of a boozy weekend this weekend. Tim&Sarah round for dinner and bridge on Friday and then off to the Oddbins Wine Fair on Saturday with the usual suspects (Bob&Lynne, Barry&Sue and Andrea).

Friday night I think we played as many hands as we drank bottles of wine (six of each) which says something about how seriously (or not) we take these respective recreations. We presented, blind, to T&S a wine we bought at Oddbins Wine Fair about five years ago. We did it blind because if we said "This is a Greek Cabernet Sauvignon" prejudices might kick in. In fact the Amethystos Cava 1995 is a very fine wine indeed.

On that previous Wine Fair, right at the end of the afternoon, Bob had said we should try the Greek wines. So Mary marched up to the stall with the tall, dark, handsome Greek man and demanded to taste their best wine. "You want our best wine?" "Yes, I want your best wine!" This prompted him to reach down under the counter and produce this '95 Amethystos.

When Mary went to the order point they called it up on the screen where it was, literally, listed as "Amethystos 1995 [under the counter]". We bought six bottles then and they have been aging nicely and drinking excellently now.

This year we did our usual pre-prandial comparative tasting of champagnes, only 18 this time. Then lunch at Ask next door and back for the afternoon session. After a couple of tastings I decided not to do the usual whites then reds, but instead decided to do some whisky tastings.

First port of call was Jon, Mark and Robbo's Easy Drinking Whisky Company stand to take the nosing challenge. Ten phials of different aromas. I did not bad considering I didn't spot the poster behind me which listed what they were; multiple choice is so much easier than completely unspecified (Mary did very well indeed). Very educational and then, of course, I tasted their whiskys which were fine.

Then off to other stands for a number of Islay malts and I was ready to go home for a snooze. But no rest for the wicked, that was followed by an evening of eating and drink at the second nearest Tapas: San Miguel's with the suspects augmented by Kate&Ian. A fine day.

Wombats at the Gherkin

Met up for lunch yesterday with Michael who works at the Gherkin along with Tim, from Zurich, and their colleague Jed. We went to Satu in Devonshire Square where the food was very tasty (stir fried salmon) and our waitress was very tasty too but the service was glacial (in speed not friendliness). Long gap between starter and main and 25 minutes from asking for the bill to its arrival. Not good for a quick business lunch.

Tim, ever since I have know him, has been given to using Wombat as a Metasyntactic variable (like some people use widget). I recently learned from The Jargon File that it actually stands for "Waste Of Money, Brains, And Time". I quizzed Tim as to whether, given his technical background, he was speaking Commonwealth Hackish. He denied this and said it was simply because he has s soft spot for this particular Australian marsupial.

Chateau Rieussec revisited

Having mentioned to Mary the excellent 1999 Chateau Rieussec I had with Wednesday's meal she dutifully obliged with a wine to top that. Saturday evening for pud we had baked peaches and to go with Mary produced from the "Cellar", with all the flourish of a magician's rabbit, a half bottle of 1988 Chateau Rieussec.

What a difference a decade makes! Even more gorgeous and, as expected, a darker colour but, what was not expected, distinct notes of toffee, even hints of dark treacle or molasses. Delicious, a fine way to round off a meal :-)

Snagging list

Seems to be a UK English usage. A snagging list details the outstanding and remedial work as a construction scheme comes to an end. Sometime the final stage payment is conditional on rectifying the items on the list.

We had Bob from Wessex Archaeology round yesterday to do a full structural survey. This is all part of the grand plan to "down-shift" to Italy in four years time. Part of that is selling Avon Cottage in order to clear our debts and reinvest.

We aim to make sure that the cottage is in tip-top condition for any prospective purchasers having it surveyed. We don't want any surprises. So whatever this structural survey shows we will use as a "To-Do" list over the next couple of years.

Tripe, nien danke!

Went to the Restaurant Brunegg last night and had a curate's egg of a meal. Having no German I had to guess at the menu and ordered a main course which I could work out came in a tomato sauce with potatoes. It turned out to be tripe!

Now liver I am OK with, likewise kidneys but tripe is beyond my offal horizon. So I ate what I could and had room for dessert for a pleasant change. A Toblerone based chocolate mousse (how very Swiss) and a glass of the only dessert wine they: 1999 Chateau Rieussec. And it was fabulous, absolutely gorgeous, everything a dessert wine should be. The only shame is I return home tonight or I would go back there tonight just so I could have another glass.

Airline tickets in the bin

Not necessarily a bad thing.

We had planned to spend the Bank Holiday weekend in Italy paying the next tranche of money and finalising the layout of sanitary ware in the bath room. The stone mason has started work on the first cone and has even provided some weathered stones from his own private store. This is to prevent the piebald appearance found in restored Trulli, so concerned is he to do a top notch job on such an unspoilt property. But this start was sufficiently delayed that the small amount of progress meant it was not worth visiting.



Part of the deal with low cost airlines is the gamble of booking far in advance to get the best prices. If we book closer to when our plans are certain the cost will have gone up. We fly often enough that it is marginal if it is worth paying the rearrangement fee. In this case there were no suitable dates in our time window and the October flights are not yet released so it was cheaper simply to chuck the tickets in the bin. Some you win, some you lose, but overall it is the cheaper strategy. Plus it has saved us a night at the Radisson SAS at Stansted, two days car hire and two nights in Lo Smeraldo hotel.

Instead we stayed home and worked in the garden. Over the last two weekends we have done good stuff planting plants, drastically pruning shrubs, re-felting the summer house, stacking the log pile, macro-weeding and other sundry maintenance tasks. All of which will make for a flower filled summer to look forward to.

Plastic urinals - whatever next?

Dateline: International Youth Hostel, Zurich

I normally arrive here about 20 minutes to midnight on a Monday night to collect the keys for the client apartment that is to be my home for the next two nights. Today, because it is a public holiday in the UK and I was originally going to be en route from Stansted to Wandsworth (see next post) I am on an earlier flight.

So that means time to (in reverse order) use the internet cafe here, have a beer and make room for the beer. It did not sound right as I peed and it was because they were plastic urinals. Such things I have seen at events and festivals but this was the first I have seen one that endeavours to imitate the proper porcelain. Which it did so convincingly that only the ear told the tale.

What a difference a year makes

This time last year, on her birthday, Mum was still in hospital full of tubes and painkillers, recovering from her Mother's Day emergency aortobifemoral bypass

Last night Ian and I went down to Farnham to take her and Dad out for a Chinese meal. She was well and cheerful one year on. It was good to see.

Born to Boogie DVD

Many thanks to Clare at The Sanctuary Group for giving me a complimentary ticket to the pre-release screening of Born To Boogie DVD at the Curzon Mayfair.

An excellent evening with a chance to meet up with some Tillers from the TillDawn Mailing list. Also in the foyer were Gloria Jones (Marc's girlfriend), Bill Legend (drummer), Harry Feld (Marc's brother) with wife and Geoff Blayldon (Catweazel).

There were some introductory words from the Producer and music producing legend Tony Visconti. Then 50 minutes edited highlights from the DVD followed by a few words from Marc's son Rolan Bolan. Watching it brought back memories of that era and a promise of a longer post and review later...

Me and the other Tillers had black tickets which meant we could loiter, pick up a small goodie bag and shake hands with Rolan and Tony. Then off to the pub for a glass of red wine and home.

[EDIT: 22-Oct-2021 - added photos]

Tony Visconti, Rolan Bolan, Mark McLellan.

Rolan Bolan, Mira

Tony Visconti, Rolan Bolan, Paul Wattam.

Rolan Bolan, Mira

Rolan Bolan, Tony Visconti, Paul Wattam

Tony Visconti, Paul Wattam

Bill Legend, ??, Rolan Bolan, Tony Visconti

Geoffrey Bayldon, Gloria Jones

Me and Paula Radcliffe

Friday I was thinking "Cycling shouldn't be this hard!" and cursing E.W.Evans servicing abilities. I even got off at Battersea to check the back tyre wasn't rubbing. The previous owner of the bike had changed the thin racing tyres for normal road tyres which means the gap between rubber and frame is very narrow. The quick release mechanism sometime slips and then friction occurs.

But not this time, so I puffed and strained the rest of the way to work, 10 minutes slower than usual, swearing I would call Evans and demand some after-service service. When I got to work I did a final QA of the bike and found that a front brake block was loose and I had been cycling with the brakes on. Whoops.

Mind you even at my normal speed it takes me 32 minutes to do the 6.4 miles which is 11.29 mph.

Paula Radcliffe did the 26.22 miles of the marathon in 2 hours 17 minutes which I make 11.48 mph.

So that means she can run for over two hours faster than I can manage on a bike for half an hour. That is fast!

Biggin Hill - downward spiral of despair

Well not so much despair, more like boredom. And I think it is probably stacked circles like a vertical packet of Polo Mints. But whatever. As Herr Captain made his spiel the only word I caught was Biggin Hill.

Frequent fliers will know that can mean only one thing: inbound congestion at LHR and Swanwick have put us on hold. So settle back into your Recaro seats as the Captain banks the plane sharply to the right and deja vu sets in as the twinkling lights of south east London far below go round and round and round and round like aviation's answer to Groundhog Day.

And then it ended and we were down. So that was nice.

Infrequent flier demotion

Dateline: Swiss Executive Lounge, Zurich Airport.

It is six months since I started my contract in London and they have just noticed. Within the space of a couple of weeks Hilton Honors have demoted me from gold to silver and Swiss TravelClub have demoted me from silver to blue. So, no more free booze in the Executive Lounge; like any of us are executives anyway!

So how come I am here? Well, I have so many Swiss miles that I will never use that I am slowly burning them on upgrades. The client will only pay for coach and so 10k air miles gets me a wider seat, a free meal and access to the lounge (and some passable Chilean Cab Sauv).

People always go on about leg room but at 5' 8" that has never worried me. It is the lack of elbow room in coach that bugs me. Trying to turn the pages of my book, flip the pages of the paper or munch my way through the meal with my elbows virtually stapled to my waist is the bummer. Ah, the expansive joys of Seat 5F :-)

Kamikaze cat prevention

Having a cat in a fourth floor flat presents problems as summer approaches and we want to open the windows. Apparently a previous occupant's cat did jump and survived unharmed but not something I would not want to even think about risking with Cleo.

Sunday was spent assembling some mesh inserts from Cataire Screening which fit the bill and the secondary glazing slots very nicely. Assemble it yourself aluminium frames with black nylon mesh (hardly visible) which temporarily replace the sliding glazing panels for some cool summer breeze.

Good value and exactly what we wanted: definitely recommended!

Cycling "en danseuse"

Many thanks to Stroppy Cow for introducing me to this delightful French expression for cycling standing up. Something I do regularly when I do not change down in time for the lights or find myself going up an incline.

The trouble is I find I need to do it more and more. I don't remember it being so hard when I used to do the 9.25 miles from South Wimbledon to Devonshire Square. Now I am only doing 6 miles from Wandsworth to Drury Lane and it feels like I am on an exercise bike from the gym.

So Wednesday I took the bike to Evans Cycles in Wandsworth for the full service. They dismantle, clean and re-grease all the bearings. Thursday and Friday cycling was no easier so it must be my body that needs the service :-(

Licorice on Bass

Listening to Devendra Barnhart as I walked up from Waterloo I was reminded not so much of Marc Bolan, to whom some of his early warblings sound similar, but more the folk tradition exemplified by Incredible String Band.

God, that takes me back. Saw them at Birmingham Town Hall in 1969 (or thereabouts). With David Fee. Whatever happened to him, I wonder? Songs like "The Hedgehog's Song" and "Way Back in the 1960s". And Licorice on Bass.

Ah, nostalgia! It's not what it used to be.

I come from a land down under

Maureen left for Australia 24 years ago, married Pete and raised three beautiful daughters. As a consequence we only see her occasionally. The previous occasion was Mary and my trip to OZ in 2001.

I missed seeing her at Marilyn's 50th last summer so it was good to meet up on Sunday. She is over with youngest daughter, Nathalie, for a niece's wedding. We met at Bill's where he over-catered as expected. The usual suspects from "The Birmingham Crowd" were there most of whom I had not seen since Denise's funeral including some I hadn't seen for ages like Steve Glynn.

We were able to squeeze in an extra meeting Monday lunchtime as they came up to the West End and I work in Drury Lane. So that was an unxpected bonus.


Maureen and Nathalie at The Crusting Pipe in Covent Garden.

* Down under by Men At Work

Piss up in a brewery

For the benefit of non-native English speakers: "Piss up" is a social event involving alcoholic drinks. "Couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery" is a phrase used to describe someone low in planning and organisational skills.

On Saturday I arranged for myself and George (the brother-in-law) to do the Youngs Brewery Tour while Mary and her sister, Sandra, did a day's pampering at The Sanctuary. It has to be said that I kept remembering then forgetting, remembering then forgetting to phone up and book it. It was not until Mary sent me a text message, "Piss-up in a brewery!", that I finally made the booking. Oh dear :-(

I can thoroughly recommend the tour. This was my sixth brewery tour but always interesting to see another. The real novelty was the stables tour to see the shire horses that pull the drays. They are *big* and friendly. Finished off the tour with an excellent pint of stout in the Brewery Tap.

Fail to proceed

As previously mentioned I do not run red lights when on the bike. I use them as an opportunity to a) get my breath back and b) look around me. London is not one homogenised urban sprawl: it is hundreds of once separate villages that the Victorian explosion agglomerated into a continuous habitation. My six mile cycle passes through a succession of micro-habitats from elegant to squalid and back again. Waiting at one set of lights I was reminded of a doubtless apocryphal tale told me by an ex-colleague... So he claims the Rolls-Royce user manual used to contain a paragraph along the following sentiments: "The Rolls-Royce does not break down. It may occasionally fail to proceed. Should this occur the owner should contact the service department and await assistance. The owner may wish to avail himself of this opportunity to acquaint himself with his surroundings."

Yours is no disgrace

Back in the saddle after a week off - evening social engagements and other feeble excuses - and I still get overtaken. This despite have swapped Mary's small wheeled folding bike for my [t]rusty old Claude Butler.

Passing the MI6 building I was, myself, passed by first a guy in yellow lycra, then some lardy-arse bloke, then a young slip of a girl (though the lycra suited her better!). Me puffing to keep up, caught up with them as they, unusually, stopped at the Embankment / Lambeth Bridge lights.

Then I saw that all three had the slick racing tyres and the proper, clip-into-place racing shoes. So they had the gear and, I suspect, had done this before. So no shame then to be overtaken by them and off I went singing to myself "Yours is no disgrace" *

* The Yes Album

Leaning Tower of London

Walking home from work of an evening over Waterloo Bridge I can be guaranteed a tourist or two taking pictures of the London Eye, Hungerford Bridge, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. This evening I saw a novelty which made me larf.

Now if you have ever been to Pisa you will know it is mandatory to stand on the grassy area with your hands held up at an angle, just so. Then your friend takes a picture so it looks at though you are propping up the Leaning Tower.

Tonight there were a couple of young ladies doing the London equivalent: taking a snap so it would appear as though the one was holding a large vertical disc that is the Eye. Chuckling I went on my way.

First BBQ of the summer

Last weekend Mary decided we would have a barbecue this weekend come what may. Thank goodness it turned out nice. We had Bob&Lynn round; they brought starters and cheese, we provided four grilled sea bass. We did a sort of v. informal tasting: three different Verdicchios from us and two Vina Albali from B&L (Riserva '99 and Gran Riserva '97).

Most of the weekend, however, was spend draining and cleaning the algae-filled pea soup that our Brass Monkeys splash pool has turned into over the winter. Emptied and sides scrubbed on Saturday. Today I was up and in the pool at seven o'clock (on a Sunday morning!) scooping out the last of the primordial slime and cleaning the bottom.

But now it is all re-filled and sparkling with a dash of chlorine. Mind you I think I will wait for slightly warmer weather before again venturing my t*st*cles into the icy water.

Pasqua in Puglia

Unlike our last 24 hour visit to Italy, Easter gave us two days to enjoy a more leisurely visit. We stayed, again, at Hotel Lo Smeraldo just outside Cisternino.

The Lamia is proceeding apace. The roof has been redone: the old "chiancarelle" and underlying (basically) mud removed and replaced by reinforcing mesh and concrete. The interior floor has been removed and re-concreted ready for the underfloor heating and top floor. The opening in what will be the kitchen wall has been opened out to make the back door. The drainage channels around the pizza oven and Lamia have now been boxed in and ready to be earthed over.

We are out again in another 4 weeks - three cheers to Ryan Air for cheap flights - and look forward to seeing even more progress.

Jane's 50th Birthday

Last Thursday was sister Jane's 50th birthday. Like Dad for his 80th birthday two week earlier, Jane went for the quiet, at-home, family gathering, this time augmented by nephews, old friends Jane&Brock and Cheryl, Pete's Dad (Michael) and Aunt (Freda).

Usual stuff: ate, drank, chatted, had a good time. How unlike EastEnders! <sarcasm=ON>Where are we going wrong? How come we enjoy each other's company? Why don't we have family screaming matches, like on the telly?<sarcasm=OFF>

Mary and I were most pleased with the present we bought in Edinburgh - a set of Six Fabergé Coffee Cups & Saucers from The Royal Collection - which went down very well.

Then a taxi back home to Wandsworth, which was cheaper than staying at the local Reigate Manor Hotel and meant we woke in our own bed :-)

Inconsistent Man Machine Interface

MMI does not just mean CHI. It also applies to mechanical machines.

Of the three lifts in this building only one goes to the lowest level. The lift designers simply ordered the button in rows of three starting at the bottom and working up. That means those of us who get in and hit the button in "the usual position" have a one-in-three chance of being whisked to the wrong floor.

Majority lift	Minority lift    (there is no "2")	Minority lift should have been
12 9 10 11 6 7 8 3 4 5	11 12 8 9 10 5 6 7 1 3 6	12 9 10 11 6 7 8 3 4 5 1

That is, the same as the others with "1" pre-pended.

Daffodil Dining Club at Le Gavroche

It's a dirty job but someone's got to do it. A five-and-a-half-hour lunch on Saturday at Le Gavroche. Courtesy of our friend John Amiry and his Daffodil Dining Club we ate and drank of the finest.

The food was as you would expect from Michel Roux, Jnr. and his Three Michelin Stars.
• Canapes
• Marbre Savoureux et Vinaigrette aux Truffes
• Petit Ragout be Langoustines Parfume au Gingembre
• Filet de St. Pierre Pane., Veloute au Safran et Coriandre
• Daube de Boeuf aux Olives et Pommes Mousseline
• Assortiment de Fromage Affines
• Le Roule Marquis aux Framboises
• Cafe et Petits Fours

The wines were all from Domaine Sainte Rose and Ruth Simpson herself was there to present the wines:
• La Canicule 2003
• Le Pinacle Chardonnay 2002
• The Barrel Selection Low Yield Rousanne 2003
• Le Pinacle Syrah 2002
• Le Soleil du Sud 2002

Of the three whites I preferred the La Canicule 2003 over the Le Pinacle Chardonnay despite the latter being nearly twice the price; maybe it was too subtle for my taste buds. The reds were excellent but my palate, such as it is, was well blunted by the waiters insistence on refilling glasses as soon as they got past half empty.

So we wandered in mellow mood out into the afternoon sunshine for the trip home and a belated siesta.

Oz slide show December 2001

For Mary's benefit because there are no links to it elsewhere, selected pictures from our <visit to Australia, December 2001>. (Warning bloated graphics not suitable for dial-up viewers)

From Armatrading to Zappa

I have been rediscovering the joys of some musical golden oldies courtesy of the new techno-toy: a Sony NW-HD1, Mary's Christmas present to me. I have starting ripping the CD collection, starting naturally enough at A.

Considering Mary and I have several hundreds of CD's each it was surprising to discover that we had only a single album in common, Jimmy Hendrix Greatest Hits. The collections live in different rooms and if we are in "my" room she will say, "Let's have some tasteful music" meaning from her collection.

When she last sorted her CD's they went from Joan Armatrading to Frank Zappa indicating her range of tastes. Mine go from Adam Ant to ZZ Top which, as she remarked, just about says it all.

A weekend in Auld Reekie

Mary and I went up to Edinburgh (aka Auld Reekie) for the weekend to watch Scotland get stuffed by Wales in the Six Nations.

We spent Saturday shopping followed by lunch and a siesta; I don't have the stamina I used to :-( In the evening we met up with Maggie and Ron for an excellent meal at First Coast.

Sunday was Holyroodhouse, lunch and the match. Mary had warned me about the biting Edinburgh wind so I had gone armed with thermal long johns and multiple t-shirt layers which kept me toasty warm. The 4°C and wind chill factor did not, however, deter a number of Scots from wearing kilts.

Although Mary has visited a number of times and me a couple we decided to treat ourselves to the AA guide to Edinburgh which provided some unintentional amusement (for the second it helps to know that Mary's Dad, sister and brother-in-law all are / were in the "polis"). Obviously written assuming no knowledge at all about the UK on the part of the reader:

• Tap water in Edinburgh is safe and reasonably palatable.
• Scots policemen [...] are friendly and approachable and will give directions and information willingly.
• You are unlikely to get sunburnt in Edinburgh...

Dad's 80th birthday

Another major life milestone: Dad reached 80 yesterday. To celebrate he requested just the immediate family (me, siblings Ian and Jane, Mum and himself) gathered at the parental home in Farnham for the handing over of gifts and the eating of a Chinese take-away. Plus a couple of nice bottles of wine.

Dad is a late adopter when it comes to technology so we bought him a DVD player to supplement his video. Since he loves film it makes future presents easy peasy. Mary started him off with "Citizen Kane" a film right up there (some say at No. 1).

It was a long evening with the usual wide-ranging discussions covering everything from the impact of "Shape of Things to Come" on war-time morale to prostate cancer. Jane stayed over; Ian gave up alcohol about four years ago and so was able to give me a lift home.

Spoke to Dad this evening and he said the evening was all he could have wished for, a reminder of how important family is to him. That must mean me then :-) and Ian and Jane of course but also the grand-children.

This morning he got a card from nephew Ben with a very touching message about how Dad had been an inspiration to him over the years and fostered his interested in film, leading to his choice of degree and career in the film. Well done Ben!

I'm worried about my drinking

So quoth Cosmo some years ago in "The Clanger" in Devonshire Square along with Pete and I.

One of the thing about lads' drinking is the macho etiquette of "standing your round" which means you cannot be seen to be backward in coming forward to buy the next round. As a result the drinks purchasing is driven by the empty glass of the fastest drinker in the crowd and you might, if you are a slower drinker, end up with a row of bottles of Stella, or whatever, in front of you.

On the aforementioned occasion Cosmo ended up with a Gin and tonic in each hand and another inbound from the bar. This prompted his comment to which Pete wittily riposted "Well you could always try just using one hand."

This evening I met up with an an old friend from school - Martin - who found me by Googling Kenilworth Grammar School. The last time we met up in October '04 I remember feeling not at my sparkiest the next morning. This was, so he informed me, because we bought a round each.

That would not have been so bad but for the three for two special offer!

And that would not have been so bad had they not been bottles!!

Which means, so he claims, we drank three bottles each!!!

Never mind pass the aspirin, pass the whole g*ddamn bottle.

First ever Mother's day card

We don't go in for Mother's Day in a big way in our family. In fact we don't go for it all. Last year was the first time in my 52 years on planet earth that I had ever sent anything - some flowers. That was prompted by her mastectomy in January '04 and the wake-up call that she might not be around indefinitely.

Last year, as I was in Dublin for the weekend, I was not able to visit and was not organised enough to plan ahead and send a card. Instead I used Interflora to send a bunch of flowers. It was when I called to see if they had arrived that I learned she was on the operating table starting a four hour operation (see Not a very good Mother's day).

So this year another break with (non-)tradition: I went in person on Sunday afternoon and delivered my first ever Mother's Day card by hand. So that was nice.

Wines from the Veneto

Thursday evening was an excellent tasting of Veneto wines from Masi and Serego Alighieri thanks to our friend Carolyn and the Charteris Wine Society. The wines were presented by Daniel Block from Masi and supplied by Berkmann.

Daniel was an excellent speaker, knowledgeable and amusing. He talked for an hour and a half, while we tasted, on the history of the region, the producers, the grapes and the unique production techniques of the area involving air drying of the grapes for several months. It is a shame the crowd on the next table talked over his presentation showing what I considered a distinct lack of courtesy to a guest.

Having been on a Headwater walking holiday in the region it was doubly interesting. The wines presented were:

• 2000 Masianco - Masi
• 2003 Possessioni Bianco - Serego Alighieri
• 2003 Bonacosta Valpolicella Classico - Masi
• 2001 Campofiorin Ripasso - Masi
• 2003 Passo Doble - Masi Tupungato
• 2001 Grandarella - Masi
• 2000 Costasera Amarone della Valpolicella - Masi
• 1999 Vaio Armaron Amarone Classico - Serego Alighieri
• 1990 Vaio Armaron Amarone Classico - Serego Alighieri
• 2001 Casal dei Ronchi Recioto Classico - Masi

My favourite was the 1999 Vaio, especially compared to the 1990 which was nearly three times the price and half the flavour. Close behind it was the 2001 Recioto which makes an excellent alternative to a port and goes well with a rustic pecorino cheese or a chocolate mousse.

New Forest National Park

Yesterday the New Forest officially became a National Park as opposed to an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (see BBC news item). As orginally proposed they intended to extend the boundary to include the River Avon and the SSSI water meadows that flank it.

Given that we live in Avon Cottage (there is a clue in the name here) we would have been inside the national park. However the consultation process then took the Avon valley back out again, so now we still live 1/2 a mile outside the New Forest. Pity, it would have been nice to be able to say "I live in ...".

If it's Saturday it must be Italy

This weekend was the shortest possible trip to Italy to see the work-in-progress at the Hovel in the Hills ™. We flew 7:15 am Saturday morning and back 11:30 am Sunday morning. Since we didn't fancy getting up at 4:00 am to drive up an icy M11 we decided to take the Stansted Express and treat ourselves to an on-airport hotel stay Friday night, the Radisson SAS is only five minutes stroll from the terminal.

I was most impressed. The hotel is smart and the Tapas Restaurant was excellent. Given a captive audience and a good percentage of business travellers it is easy for a hotel restaurant to get complacent, not so here. The food was well cooked, the prices reasonable and the Spanish waitress friendly and attentive. Much better that our local Tapas round the corner in Old York Road.

In Italy, Daniele and the workmen have made a start: creating a second driveway for the upper half of the property and digging a trench round the pizza oven and the lamia. This will help with drainage of the water that flows down the hill and so keep the house dry.


View of new drive and drainage ditch round pizza oven and side of lamia(taken from the roof of the lamia).

The train has wings

The reason for the delay on posting about the wine dinner was that I was in Zurich Tuesday and Wednesday. Leaving the office I could tell the people who don't do much business travel. They said things like "Have a good time" and "Enjoy yourself" as if it was some kind of holiday. They do not realise it is just commuting like they do every day, except the train has wings.

It really is not as glamorous as they think. As seasoned business travellers know it is mostly airport, taxi, office, hotel, taxi, airport. I spent Monday evening and Wednesday evening sitting in airports and airplanes instead of relaxing at home with Mary and the cat - not much of a trade :-(

People ask how I keep my weight under control with all this eating in hotel restaurants. The answer is easy: twice a week I eat airline food.

The Heart of Italy Dinner

Last week was a bit of a wine week what with Valentine's Night where we spent more on wine than food as usual, seeing the recommendable film Sideways and then on Saturday another Berry Bros and Rudd dinner - Heart of Italy - with Pete&Amanda. Held at BBR's premises in St James Street the menu was as follows:

2002 Verdicchio Classico Superiore Castelli di Jesi, Vegneti di Musone - Marche

Welcome from Chris Maybin, Marketing Manager

2000 Chianti Classico, Villa di Geggiano - Tuscany

Mixed antipasti

2001 Mirum, Verdicchio Marche Bianco, Fattoria la Monacesca - Marche

Seafood Penne in a Saffron Broth

1999 Vino Nobile do Montepulciano Riserva dei Mandorli, Massimo Romeo - Tuscany
1997 Brunello do Montalcino, Riserva Casisano Colombaio - Tuscany

Arista (Roasted Loin of Pork with Rosemary and Garlic), Canenellini Beans (selection of fresh seasonal vegetables)

2001 Visions of J. Fattoria le Terrazze - Marche

Selection of classic pecorino cheeses with mostarda

Tiramisu

Berrys' selected coffee and dinner mints

Another fine evening. For me the star of the evening was the 2001 Mirum, Verdicchio and so Mary ordered a case - good move!

Living with my wife

As promised in Breaking the Fourth Wall and alluded to in Table for Two? a bit of background on the fact that I now live with my Wife!

For the last ten+ years we have been like the couple in the weather vane. Always one in, one out and never at the same time. When we first moved to Avon Cottage I commuted to Farnborough and Mary rented a spare room from a friend in London coming home at weekends.

After three months she decided to relocate, after all we were not long married. We would drive to Farnborough where I would throw her out at the train station and she would complete her commute by public transport. After three months of that CSC sent me to Histon, north of Cambridge, for fifteen months and the tables were turned.

And so it has gone for the last decade until January this year (2005). For the first time in all that time we now co-habit seven days a week. This has given rise to a certain amount of cynical humour from our friends but, notwithstanding the adjustments that always need to be made when lives change, I consider it a "Good Thing" * after all I did marry the woman!

* 1066 and All That: A Memorable History of England by W.C. Sellar, R.J. Yeatman (ISBN: 0413772705)

Table for two?

Top marks to Chez Bruce for not cashing in on Valentine's day. We were in the upstairs room where they had resisted the temptation to squeeze in an extra table. With only five couples it was possible to have a relaxed meal without overhearing whatever romantic chit-chat was going on at the next table. Also they had on a full menu, not some limited choice Valentine's Special. And very tasty it was too.

It was nice to be in the same country at the same time for Valentine's Day. Unlike the caller on Sunday's Classic FM phone-in who, after 20 years of marriage, was having to spend his first Valentine's apart from his wife. For goodness sake are they joined at the hip? We normally only have that luxury if it falls on a weekend as it did last year.

Mary was in Dublin so I went over for the weekend and we went to Ely Wine Bar and Cafe, Mary's favourite "100+ wines by the glass" wine bar. When I rang to book the conversation (and surely it could only happen in Ireland) went like this:

Me: "Do you have any availability for Valentine's night?"
Ely's: "Yes, what time would you like?"
Me: "Excellent! Could you do 8 o'clock?"
Ely's: "Certainly, sir, and how many would that be for?"

That was the weekend that was

Only one post last week doesn't mean nothing happening, quite the reverse. A busy week work-wise with two days delivering training in Zurich. The only reason I posted at all was the delayed LX340 on the way home Wednesday evening. That gave me time to use the free cyber corner in the Executive lounge.

The weekend was busy too with the usual giddy round of shopping and domestic chores - this weekend: clear outs. The spare bedroom-cum-study is now a lot tidier, the draw under the bed with all the holiday stuff is a lot emptier and the storage crates in the loft are fewer than they were.

On the up side spring is on the way. The narcissi, snowdrops and primuli are in bloom and the daffodils are starting to shoot. The light at the end of the Winter tunnel is in sight. Mary re-did the window boxes so we will have lots of jolly flowers in spring to brighten the front of the cottage.

Not-so-Super Bowl

I am sure it is a fine sporting event but the time difference means it is broadcast in the wee small hours here in the UK as I discovered Sunday night, or should that be Monday morning?

The lads upstairs were having a sports night in with, I suspect, more than a few beers. Although our flat and theirs share the same layout the usage is different with their living room being above our bedroom, thus I could hear their chat late into the night. So I put in my earplugs (Virgin Atlantic blue ones but I prefer the BA trad tubular yellow kind) and turned over trying to ignore it.

However I could not ignore the blast of Status Quo at china duck rattling volumes at 3:30 am. Ok, I thought, they are pissed and have poor judgment as a result. One track and I would have let it pass but they boogied on so at track four I upped and dressed to go knock on their door. You hear such "neighbours-from-hell" tales that I was concerned to deal with this in a non-confrontational way so that no offence and retaliation / escalation should occur.

My opening gambit was "Excellent choice of music <pause and shrug> but not so sure about the timing..." The guy apologised and turned the music down, but not off. At least it was enough to allow me to sleep but I was not at my sparkiest all day Monday.

Breaking the fourth wall

Saturday was not only Mary's biggest birthday party but also the one year blogiversary of Gullible's Travels. Average Posts Per Week 3; Posts Written 124; Words Written 16,003.

I was tempted to do a retrospective like all my our friends' Christmas newsletters. You know the thing, "Jasper has just passed his grade 8 maracas and been accepted for the RPO, Daphne is into horses and going through a bit of a Goth phase". Then email it to the Williams, the Thynnes, the Bennells and the Wallaces :-)

This week has been too busy, as the absence of a Wednesday post attests, so a full retrospective will have to wait. It has been a year of endings and beginnings. Several sad passings and the trauma of Mum's near misses. On the other hand Mary and I are now living together (an entry yet to be blogged) and the Trulli saga truly begins with the future life that portends.

* Fourth wall

Mary's birthday three times

Now that went more according to plan...

Friday night was a quiet night in with Geraldine and Alisdair who were staying with us for the week end. Saturday lunchtime it was off to Heathrow to collect Mary's sister, Sandra, and brother-in-law, George plus their friends, Willy and Isabel.

Saturday afternoon it was an "At Home" to the Scottish contingent as they polished off four bottles of champagne. Then dispersal in preparation for the evening. Included in that was warning the credit card company to expect a very large restaurant bill. The man at Amex, when Mary mentioned the amount, wittily concluded with "I hope you get pudding with that".

Saturday evening was dinner for 51 pax at Al Ponte. Those that got there earlier got the '88 Krug (en magnum), the laggards got an alternative as we only had three of the former. Service was a bit too leisurely with antipasto, pasta, main course at 11:00 (!) and desserts about midnight by which time a number had left for their last trains.

Boy can our friends drink and talk! The chatter was deafening as people mingled and chatted and circulated much to the bemusement of the staff as they tried to deliver food to the appropriate peripatetic diners.

We staggered out about 2am and back for one last nightcap with G&A then a dreamless sleep - well not so much sleep more like coma!

Pass the aspirin again.

Mary's birthday twice

Well that didn't go quite as planned...

Yesterday was Mary's actual fiftieth birthday. Plan A had been a romantic candlelit supper for two at a Michelin One Starred restaurant (Putney Bridge Restaurant). I had even arranged for Interflora to deliver a bouquet direct to the restaurant for a surprise.

What happened instead was Mary went to the physio Tuesday evening for some treatment on her bulging disc. Instead of helping, it made matters much worse. On the birthday morning she could hardly stand for the pain. I had to help her hobble from the bathroom back to the bedroom where she lay for the rest of the day in no small pain and discomfort.

So we had to cancel the booking and go for dining at home. Mary had only just been able to get up by 5 o'clock when I got home early. Instead supper was the best that M&S could provide: scallops on rocket and fillet steak with seasonal veg. Plus of course a glass of champagne and a bottle of Terre Dom Pepe (our local Locorontondo wine).

Mary's birthday once

The weekend was literally a flying visit to Scotland. We flew for free courtesy of Mary's BMI frequent flyer points and stayed in the Hilton for free courtesy of my Hilton Honors frequent snorer points.

The occasion was a pre-birthday celebration meal with the older generation of the Galashan clan and friends who will not be down to London for this coming weekend. We had an excellent evening at The Pipers' Tryst Hotel at The National Piping Centre. Traditional Scottish meal with live music (fiddle and flute). I would recommend it for an enjoyable night out with friends.

No really it's networking not drinking!

Another CSC alumni meeting. This time in the far more congenial surroundings of The Crusting Pipe in Covent Garden.

Much the usual band of suspects: there was me, Tony Korn, Simon Hargrave, Chris Howard, John Warren, David Pelta, John Patient, Rob Heyfron, Carolyn MacDowell, Tony Czarnecki, Tony Hazel and Anne Carter. Apologies from David Martin and Anthony Bodle. A good turnout - thanks chaps.

We drank, we nibbled, we talked.

Several peeled off about 8:30 lured by the siren call of South West Trains. Mary joined us after an intensive handbag hunt in the Wild West End and came in clutching her Louis Vuitton trophy. Then we stragglers (M&M, CM, DAP, SH and TH) dined in the restaurant part (perfectly acceptable food) and staggered wandered off about 11:00.

Blog meeting 2

Went to another Blog Meet yesterday. Unlike the previous Blog meet this had 10 pax rather than the previous 4 which made for a livelier meeting. They seemed mostly normal but then I would say that wouldn't I; I was there too! Not, as my wife suspects, all techno-geeks but a cross section of normal people. Some ate, all drank, all talked.

Compared to last time I drank less, went home earlier, woke up feeling more alert. Although that may also be thanks to Cleo not scrabbling on the laminate flooring at 2:30, 4:40 and 5:25 like the night before.

Ghost cats

It was strange to go back to an empty Avon Cottage and not be greeted by a feline welcoming committee. I am so used to Oscar trotting up to the door to say hello. He did not so much demand attention but more invited it by his desire to be in the company of humans.



Several times in my mind I would see him trotting over to say hello or catch a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye and turn to see not Oscar but a pair of discarded jeans on the floor. The house is emptier without him, I do miss him and it still hardly seems real.

Original post The saddest news about Oscar

Inner city shopping

How different it is here in "The Great Wen" compared to our local Waitrose in Ringwood.

Firstly the very obvious (multiple) security guards at the door which says something about the level of shop-lifting that goes on. Oh the charms of inner city demographics!

Secondly the pattern of shopping. Not the weekly household trolley shop but the lunchtime basket shop for a sandwich and tonight's tea. That and the density of daytime population means queues of 60-70 in the Covent Garden M&S!

At first I thought "S*d this for a game of soldiers" and was about to return my selections to the shelves but then realised they have the single-queue / multiple-server arrangement. With 16 tills that queue rattled through in under 5 minutes and I was back out into the street clutching dinner for two.

Have you ever had a ride in a light blue car?

...Have you ever had to push push push push?

The mental jukebox has been on auto-repeat the last week or so with
Car Trouble from Dirk Wears White Sox by Adam Ant. Yesterday I twigged why.

The lifts in this office block had been breaking down regularly during December. With only two lifts operational at any one time and 12 floors to service the wait intervals drove many to the stairs. I got into the habit of using the stairs as being quicker and getting some exercise. The doors from the stairwell into the lift lobbies are labelled "Push" and without realising it have been subliminally triggering the mental play button - push push push.

Meetings in Puglia

It was a quick trip down to Puglia this weekend flying Ryan Air Friday evening out of STN down to BDS. First to meet with Pietro at the offices of Gruppo Damico and collect the actual top copy of the deeds to the Hovel-in-the-Hills. Then, after lunch, down to the property to meet with Daniele, our architect to discuss and finalise a number of options re the plans:


Mainly that we did not want a separate kitchen in the Trulli half. Instead to have it as a living room with sofa bed and turn the living / dining room into a kitchen / dining room.

A most successful visit apart from the late Sunday return flight. It went to schedule but getting home at 1:30 am is too late when you have to get up and go to work the next day. That Lottery ticket is just not working!

Ge'in it laldy

Every visit to Scotland adds to my repertoire of useful words and phrases for conversing with the natives locals. This time it was "Ge'in it laldy"

Watching TV on New Year's Eve the presenter described Nicola Benedetti's performance at the opening of the new Scottish Parliament buildings as "Ge'in it laldy". The humourous juxtaposition of high art and low vernacular made Mary laugh and me furrow my brow.

According to First Foot it means: "...to do anything with great gusto or to get laid in to someone big style whether physically or verbally."

Chad - wot no bananas

Following on from my previous post Wot no hangover I did a quick google for images of chad. I got lots of blokes called Chad and some maps of the sub-Saharan country but none of the WWII character. So here he is:

"WOT NO BANANAS?!"

A quiet Hogmanay

Probably the quietest on record.

The start of our Scottish sojourn was delayed when we were 2 minutes late at BOH for Ryan Air's strictly enforced 40 minute check-in cut off. What could we do but smile sweetly, pay out two lots of GBP 45 adjustment fee and vow to return 23 hours later.

New Year's Eve was the one year anniversary of Mary's father's death so an inappropriate time for celebration more for quiet reflection. We were there to keep Mary's mum May company with frequent cups of tea and biscuits plus running her to the shops and such like.

On the morning of the 31st we went to the crematorium for Mary and May to lay some freesias on the stone that marked Bill's ashes. The rest of the day was spent quietly at home. May went to bed early but Mary and I stayed up for the Bells. There can be only one toast on such an occasion "Absent Friends".

Wot no hangover?

[Sunday 26 December 2004]

Christmas day was round at Bob&Lynne's along with John&Pam, Lynne's parents. The meal was the full monty ending up with cheese and a Dowes '83 port of which I had several (small) glasses. We stayed the night and much to my amazement I was fine in the morning.

That's it, I'm all blogged out for now.

More on Wot No...?

Brass monkeys on Christmas morn

[Saturday 25 December 2004]

Up at 7:30 am on Christmas morning to cycle the five miles back to Francesca's to pick up the car. Only 1.5°C so the fingers were a bit numb by the time it came to folding up the bike and stuffing on the back seat.

But far better than drink-driving the evening before. I might stretch to 2 glasses over along evening but more than that is dangerous and irresponsible - mind you some might take the zero tolerance stance. Hey, we all make choices.

Lorenzo comes of age

[Friday 24 December 2004]
Today is the eighteenth birthday of my nephew and godson Lorenzo. So it was off to Francesca's for a gathering of the family. On Francesca's side that just meant Nonna Carla, on Ian's it was Mum and Dad and us two. Plus a couple of neighbours dropped in part time.

Now here is another reminder of mortality and the passing of time. Lorenzo was born by Caesarean appointment of Christmas Eve those 18 years ago and I clearly remember visiting Francesca and the neonate on Christmas day in hospital.

Then the christening shortly after. I was most impressed that the Catholic church would baptise a child born out of wedlock but then they must reckon that having failed with the parents with the young they get another go. I had to swear to forsake the devil and all his ways and I must confess I crossed my fingers behind my back at that point.

I am not sure I was much cop as a godfather. I do not remember providing much input to his spiritual and moral upbringing nor come to that much in the way of presents. So for this occasion I went for the bloke option - a big fat cheque.

Now he is come to man's estate. S**t doesn't that Karmic wheel fair spin round at a rate of knots!

Spawn of Satan

[Thursday 24 December 2004]
Witchs' familiar! That black cat did it again: clawing at the door, widdling in the bathroom. Sleep deprivation and a rude awakening. The alternative? Leave the door open and get her duvet dancing at 4 am and purring all night like a micro diesel engine. Sleep deprivation is a terrible thing. How do parents cope?

Retro blogging

Having been out and about over the festive season with a thousand "To Do" items at home has left little time for blogging. So the following are playing catch up. But I leave the dates as they are, it would not be right to spoof the date to make them look like historic posts. Where is that Blog Netiquette Guide when you need it, eh?

Feline alarm call

Who needs an alarm clock when you have a furry friend trying to tunnel her way into the bedroom through the laminate flooring. So I got up for a pee to discover the cat had beaten me to it. Only instead of the litter tray she had used the bathroom floor. Mopping out is not how I had hoped to start my day.

I tiptoed out leaving Mary pushing out Z-Z-Zs. It had been a long evening; Mary travelling down from Scotland and me doing serial drinking:
• First with a colleague for a quick glass of wine after work.
• Then down to Norbiton on the train for Chris and Sue's "At Home". Chris lectures in Space Technology at Kingston Poly University.
• Finally back to Wandsworth to meet Mary off the train from Stansted for a night cap at Konnigans.

In bed just after midnight and only a long-stop alarm. I would have really appreciated that extra hour's sleep but I had reckoned without Cleo. I must try clipping her claws sometime.

Farnham Potlatch

It was a usual pre-Christmas Potlatch in which the family assemble on the last Sunday before the 25th and exchange presents.

To avoid extravagant or competitive giving we agreed some years back to limit ourselves to frivolous presents at the price range of a paperback or a CD. There was no point in spending large sums of money on something the recipient was half-hearted about receiving and might simply end up at Oxfam or Cancer Relief.

For most things if we had wanted it we would have already been out and bought it for ourselves. I stop treating myself to movies and music around my birthday in September just in case Santa has it on his list.

It takes the strain out of present choosing:
a) because Mary does it all anyway [thank you dear] and
b) no tears are shed if it does go straight to the charity shop.

So we can afford to buy silly things that bring a smile. Apart from the nephews who just want money so they that can choose their own and my gift to Mary for which it is traditional to go well over budget.

Toasted Mars Bar on brown

Listening to the Radio 4 item this morning on the Deep Fried Mars Bar (apparently it is real not an urban myth) took me back to my early years in London back in 1979.

Working at Coopers & Lybrand in Noble Street, EC2 we would frequent the local sandwich bar, Piccolo's. They would make to order whatever you wanted - the usual stuff: cheese and tomato, ham and cream cheese, cream cheese and pineapple, ham and pineapple.

Someone said "Yecch! Ham and pineapple!" The debate ensued with popular examples of meat and fruit combinations: gammon and pineapple, duck á l'orange, chicken maryland. The wife of a colleague was known to be partial to bacon and banana.

This lead on to silly suggestions for fillings which spiralled out of control until we got to "Toasted Mars Bar on brown" ('cos that would make it healthy then).

Bron challenged "If you eat it I'll pay for it." And it was delicious <g>

London so good they named it once

Crossing Waterloo bridge on a clear winter's evening you get a terrific view of buildings lit up against the night sky. To the West the The London Eye, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. To the East the Oxo Tower, Saint Paul's Cathedral (where Mary and I got married) and the SwissRe "Gherkin". London, I love it.

Now New York is a fine town and it has fine songs to match. Native New Yorker by Odyssey, New York, New York, so good they named it twice by Gerard Kenny.

What has London got? Ralph Mc-bl**dy-Tell and Streets of London. A song so threadbare any pathos it once had has long since worn away - pass me the bucket. Oh a for a pop anthem for London to rival the Big Apple's.

Donationware and the good Samaritan

I like the concept of Donationware and extend it to other realms. Occasionally I have copied a CD for a fellow Marc Bolan fan or done some other favour. The hassle of currency exchange and postage for a couple of quid is just not worth it so when asked "How much do I owe you?" I reply "Stick a couple of dollars in the next charity box you see."

On Saturday taking our guests (Verginie, Orla and Megan) for a tour of the New Forest I had to turn the car round. Instead of doing an elegant three point turn on the road I did a U-turn and the - so I thought - nice green verge turned out to be a shallow mud bath. Result: much wheel-spinning and a sense of humour failure on the distaff side.

After failed "sticks under the wheel" and "jack it up and put a carpet underneath" I / we gave up and called the AA. Just then a local Good Samaritan with a chunky four wheel drive and a tow rope came to our rescue and towed us out of the slime. In the country those kind of vehicles do make sense!

He did not look like he needed financial assistance to buy a beer (or a gin and tonic) so "How much do I owe you?" seemed inappropriate; instead I asked him to nominate a charity. His answer Wessex Heartbeat. So that is my evening's task, as a matter of honour, to pop a cheque in the post.

Lift like a goldfish

The lift in our block of flats has a memory like a goldfish. As soon as you press a second button it forgets about the first. No problem until two of you get in together and want different floors. You end up wandering down an identical corridor wondering "who moved my flat?".

Also have you the noticed the Judeo-Christian cultural bias in most lifts? The up arrows are illuminated in white for angelic heaven and the down arrows glower red for hellish damnation!

Someone should write to Otis and Schindler and complain: we want Politically Correct lifts. How about blue (sky) for up and green (grass) for down?

Gullible's Blog manifesto

This is my response to the Anonymous comment on Monday asking "Why are you writing a Blogg?".

According to the mostly tongue-in-cheek Why I Hate WebLogs I would count as a "Reverse Voyeur". So what started me blogging?

Intellectual curiosity:
• Because it was there. It came free with the excellent Google toolbar so I thought what the heck. Being an amateur webmaster for over seven years has taught me a lot about technology which I have enjoyed learning (no Geek comments please). This was another new thing to learn about.

• I am fascinated by the impact of technologies on the way people communicate, ever since CSC installed voicemail following the takeover of Inforem and transformed the way people interacted. Every medium (email, voicemail, mailing list, fax, usenet, answerphone, SMS) introduces new etiquette, new possibilities and pitfalls. And so what would Blogging be like I wondered?

Emotional necessity:
• A need to scribble on the sands of time, even if they are washed away by the next tide. This is driven by a new found sense of my own mortality. This was triggered just prior to the start of the Blog.

• Christmas day I said to Mary that we must visit Mick Casson an old family friend. Boxing day Dad rang to tell me Mick had died. The day after Mum told me she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. New Year's eve Mary's father, Bill, died. First week of 2004 was Bill's funeral, second week was Mum's mastectomy. Hence the content of my first post: Life is too short to drink bad wine.

What kept me blogging?

Emotional plate spinning: More reminders of mortality: Mum's Aorto Bi-femoral Bypass, Mary's Gran died, Denise's funeral and the loss of Oscar.

Artistic leanings: Just wanting to write. Something I haven't done since O-Level English back in 1968, A long time to get rusty. Trying out different styles. The three paragraph, haiku-inspired postings. Just writing in a way that isn't in the boring work-style.

What I do not blog:

Political commentary: Cannot see the point of that. Go down the pub and bore your mates.
My work: Many interesting blogs are about interesting jobs. Mine, however much I enjoy it and find it challenging, would quiet frankly, my dear, be of little interest to others.
My inner emotional life:That ain't nobody's business but my own.

Mary says it is a bit self-indulgent but that leaves my life really and the world around me. Enjoy it or not not as you wish.

Toodle-pip!

A quiet Saturday night in

But with what wines!

We had Bron and Maggie round for a DP on Saturday and used it as an excuse to open some of our finest wines - Bron like Mary being something of a fellow oenophile. Never mind the food, this was the wine list:

• Reisling 1994, Domaine Zind Humbrecht, Clos Windsbuhl
• Bâtard-Montratchet 1982, Blaine-Gagnard
• Chateau Langoa Barton 1985
• Chateau Léoville-Poyferré 1982
• Vouvray Moelleux 1990, Le Haut-Lieu

Normally I prefer the reds but this was a particularly fine assembly of white wines. Having said that the food wasn't bad either and the left over pheasant bits did us for Sunday lunch and some wonderful stock for soup making.

A pound of pauper

Well actually A Pound of PAPER by John Baxter but I keep misreading the cover. An entertaining autobiographical read about a bibliophile and obsessional "completist".

It seems to be mainly a guy thing this obsession about collecting and making lists. A bit like Nick Hornby's High Fidelity which I also thoroughly recommend as an insight into many a male psyche.

Mary is on a bit of a book buying jag at the moment and passing on the best ones, like "A pound of paper", for me to read. Another good recent recommendation was Pretty Girl in Crimson Rose (8) elegantly themed around crosswords and their compilers. Given what I wrote about A mother's curse you might have guessed this would appeal and it did.