Category Archives: Nerina Hall

Monday 13th April 2015 – I SMELL ALL WHEATY TODAY

And the reason for this is that I’ve had another shower.

I started off today by dismantling the solar water heater and giving it a really good clean out. The solar water heater by the way is a black plastic box with an old caravan window over the top, and the back is insulated with some of this space blanket insulation. It’s stuck on the roof of the outside shower cubicle where it catches the sun quite nicely. The water then descends by gravity through a tap and then to a shower head.

It needed a really good clean too as it’s not been used in a while and there were all kinds of dead leaves inside the tank busily decomposing, and the window needed a really good clean too.

Next job was to fix the guttering on the uphill lean-to. The guttering has become detached because it’s too low and the door into the upstairs but where I keep all of the paint keeps knocking it.

But this wasn’t as easy as it might sound as I needed the folding ladder, and that’s all overgrown with brambles that have grown over the wall from Lieneke’s field and which one of the days we’ll have an accident with 5 litres of diesel.

I had to cut the ladder out of the brambles and that led to a general clearing of the patch of ground in front of the woodshed. Now I need a place where I can have a garden fire to dispose of all of the dead brambles.

So once I’d freed the ladder, I could dismantle the guttering, reposition the brackets and then refix the guttering. Now, not only does it slope all of the right way, but it clears the door too.

I’ve run a mains cable through from the house into the downhill lean-to, via the hole that I drilled through the wall ages ago. And with the electricity now in there, at lunchtime I did another load of washing. That’s come up nicely but there’s still a pile to do. It might not be done this week though as the water level in the water butts is quite low. 5mm of rain would do quite nicely right now to fill the water back up again.

I found 3 centimes in the bottom of the washing machine too. I hope that I’m not going to be done for money laundering.

After sitting outside eating lunch (it was really beautiful today again) and supervising the washing, I went and attacked the shower room and that’s almost empty now. Tomorrow I can start on fitting the shelves in there and the composting toilet.

Finally, the water in the solar heater was at 33.5°C. 5 litres of water at 61°C out of the 12-volt immersion heater soon sorted that out, and I had a really nice outdoor shower, followed by a shave and a change of clothes.

2 showers in 2 consecutive days? Whatever next? I’ll be washing myself away at this rate.

And I was on my travels during the night, working on behalf of the occupying forces during the day but directing resistance activities during the night. Nerina was here in this journey and we were somewhere in the UK in one of these areas with small Victorian detached houses with big gardens. The road to where we lived was a tortuous route though this built-up area but all of a sudden someone had put a direct road through the houses that curved around to where we were.

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Friday 20th March 2015 – MANY THANKS …

… to Simon for lending me his floorboard nailer.

I’ve had some exciting and interesting tools here while I’ve been doing work but I’ve never had anything quite like this. Floorboarding has never been so easy and had I not run out of floorboarding (there are a few more packs in Caliburn) I might well have finished it today.

The first couple of pieces needed careful shaping and it took a while to align them, but once they were in place the rest followed quickly. And once I’d worked out the best way to employ the machine then it went even better.

But as I said, I ran out of wood here and so I called it a day – at 18:50 as it happened so I’d already put in a good day’s work. And apart from taking the stats I haven’t been outside at all. And that’s not a surprise because the weather has been awful today – pouring down with rain all day.

I’ve not even been to the shops (something that I usually do on a Friday evening). I’ll have to do that tomorrow – after I’ve done the flooring because I’m going to have another hour or so working on the floor, despite it being a weekend.

I was on my travels again last night and, interestingly, it was a continuation of a voyage that I had made a short while ago (which is the point that this person doing this experiment was trying to prove). I was back on that coach journey where that family from round here were passengers. I’d gone to bed and I sensed that I was not alone, looking up from under my eyelids, but still pretending to be asleep, I saw the girl from this family. She had come into my room. When I gave a sign of life, she shuffled off out again quickly.

This prompted me to go to look for her to find out what was going on, and that wasn’t going to be too difficult as the hotel rooms had windows facing the corridor, rather like the older part of our school, which amazed me from a privacy point of view, although the windows were frosted glass.

From ere I found myself working the office where Nerina was working, although the bosses put us to work in different rooms to keep us apart. I spent a lot of time chatting to a girl who worked there, and I stayed there until late evening to miss the rush hour traffic. In my car, which was a white Cortina mkIV estate with the spare wheel in a holder on the left-hand side of the tailgate, I saw the girl with whom I’d been working so I waved at her to make sure that she would see me and then go back to the office to tell everyone what a big car I had.

This was a quite exciting voyage, I have to say that, and it went on for ever. I wonder how it is sometimes that I find time to sleep. But I do wish that my real life was as exciting as what goes on when I’m deep in the arms of Morpheus.

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Friday 12th September 2014 – DAY THREE OF THE HARVEST JAZZ AND BLUES FESTIVAL

Mind you, it might not have been, for I’d been on my travels again during the night.

I’d been working for years in an office and was to retire in a couple of days. I’d several files on a shelf behind me where they had been for several years, files that I hadn’t been able to deal with. I was planning to surreptitiously shred them so that no-one would find them. It did occur to me that I could simply leave them and it wouldn’t make any difference as I wouldn’t be there to face the consequences, but my pride wouldn’t let me do that.

There were also some items hanging on a chain link fence and they needed to be removed too, and Nerina put in an appearance to lend me a hand.

On that note, I awoke to something of a chill, but also to a little sunshine. The weather had improved considerably during the night, but there was quite a strong wind blowing.

There was so much work to do from yesterday so I had to press on without stopping to make a coffee – I could fuel up at a Tim Horton’s when I upload everything to the internet. However it took a while to make it to Tim Horton’s as I came across a Salvation Army thrift shop (but no books or CDs for me) and then went shopping in the Atlantic Superstore.

Once I’d had the coffee and done the work, it was into town as things were starting early today.

This is the Alex Bailey Swing Band apparently, although there wasn’t a swing in sight, no matter how much all of the children here would have loved to have been on it. Playing in the fine weather on the free stage at Officers Square to a contented crowd sitting in the sunshine.

For me though, the music didn’t do much to warm me up as Jazz isn’t really my thing and so I wandered off to see whatever else I could find.

This is a group called Kill Chicago. They were featuring at the Barracks Tent, taking part in the Galaxie Rising Stars Showcase.

They were another group that blew hot and cold as well – sometimes some of their stuff was quite enjoyable and at other times it didn’t appeal to me. Still, I have to admit that i’m getting old and it’s going to be very rare that a group of musicians 30 and 40 years younger than me would play music that would keep me riveted in my seat.

Technically though, there wasn’t much wrong with them, and that’s the kind of thing that is always worth admiring.

Back on the Free Stage at Officers Square we had Morgan Davis and his long-time drummer Jeff Arsenault. They are Festival regulars although it’s a shame to see them relegated to a Free Stage in an early afternoon rather than as a support act in a marquee venue. Sign of the times, I suppose. And shame as it is to say it, I can’t remember the name of the bassist, whom I have met before.

His set was exactly what you would expect it to be – a very competent and talented set of home-spun blues. And I did like his reference to the “United Snakes of America”.

First up this evening in the Blues Tent was, at long last, a real Blues performer. Gord Downie, The Sadies and The Conquering Sun. And that was a belting, powerhouse performance, well worth the wait for this. I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of this performance.

He had the correct number of musicians on the stage too – with no keyboards, no horns and no harmonica either, and his lead guitarist was one of the best that I have heard in years as well. During one track he played a lengthy solo right up at the top end of the scale of his guitar and that somehow found its way into my bones.

Downie was a showman and a performer if ever there was one too, and he was also a few other things besides, but we won’t go into them on these pages.

If I had been writing these notes 30 years or so ago I would have described this as an outrageously camp performance, but I’m not so sure that these terms are acceptable these days. I will have to think of another way to express exactly what I mean.

Their performance finished with a high-energy punk number, and having seen a few of these here this last couple of days, all I can say is that Downie and his bands put these other punk musicians to shame and if punk music had been played as he and his band played it, it would never have been classed as the nadir of performing music.

What an amazing concert. I really enjoyed this set, so it’s “hats off” to Gord Downie, who cheered me up immensely and restored my faith in the festival. But it was sad to see so few people enjoying this concert with me.

This is a busking group out there on the free stage at the Fredericton Tourist Information Office and I’ve heard worse than these too. They are called the Arlens, I think.

I can think of many worse ways to pass a free half-hour of my time. The audience enjoyed it anyway, boogie-ing about even if the music was a little hit-and-miss. As for the singer though, well, he must have been having an off-day I reckon.

Shame as it is to say it, I was somewhat disappointed by Blackberry Smoke.

However this was entirely due to the video that I had seen of one of their live performances, and that was something quite extraordinary, but then as a promotional item they would always use the best publicity available and I’m fully aware of that kind of thing, so I was expecting it.

So perhaps I wasn’t really disappointed after all.

What I wasn’t expecting though was the tirade launched from the stage about the Canadian Customs and Border Control. It seems that they have had the same issues with them that I have been having.

Had I caught the group unawares, I would have been enthralled by what I had seen because as a Southern Rock jam-band (from Atlanta in Georgia apparently, which should come as no surprise to anyone), they might not have been in the same class as The Outlaws or Widespread Panic, but they would be by far and away the best band that I would ever likely to catch a l’improviste.

And a Gibson bass too. What bliss! I was beginning to think that I was the only bassist in the world still to be playing one.

They did the track about “One More Silver Dollar” – the Allman Brothers one – and that involved a jam that went on for about three hours (and quite right too – my only complaint being that it didn’t go on for four hours). And somewhere along the line the managed to fit in a sample of “When the Levee Breaks” – the old Led Zeppelin show-closer.

All in all, I enjoyed this show too. It did drag a little in the middle but when they did break out into a jam solo here and there it lifted my spirits again. “Naked self-indulgence” I hear you say, and even if it might be, ask me if I care. I’d go along to see these again.

One thing that I will be doing as soon as I return home, whenever that might be, will be to try to track down a live performance somewhere to use on the radio.

If you have read my remarks on harmonicas, you would be forgiven for thinking that I hate the instrument. But that’s not really so. What I hate about it is
1) Almost every Blues musician thinks that it’s an essential part of the blues, and no blues can ever be performed without it.
2) Most harmonica players don’t know how to play the instrument.

So how will we get on with Blues Traveler, who is really a harmonica soloist with a few vocals here and there and a backing band?

The answer to that is that he’s the only blues musician who knows how to play it properly, and when I noticed that his bassist had a collection of 5-string basses on stage (unfortunately, all Fenders but you can’t legislate for that) I suspected that this could be an excellent performance with much more to the music than just the harmonica.

And I was right too. This was a stunning performance. We did, of course, have “Canadian Rose” – that was odds-on, wasn’t it? And we had a magnificent keyboards solo during one of the tracks. But as for the harmonica playing, well everyone else might just simply throw away their harmonicas for they will never ever be able to reproduce the sounds that came out of this one. It’s a waste of time trying.

The net result of all of this is that with Gord Downie and His Mates, Blackberry Smoke and Blues Traveler, I’ve had one of the best night’s entertainments that I have ever had, and I was walking on air on the way back to the Dodge, long after my usual bedtime.

Only downside of the day was that when I returned to the camp site I discovered that someone has pinched my spec and was having a barbecue there. I wasn’t in the mood for confrontation and so I cleared off and found another pitch somewhere else.

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Saturday 5th July 2014 – WHAT A NIGHT

I had something of a disturbed night last night – tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable for much of it. Probably the torrential rain pounding off Caliburn’s roof had much to do with this because there was plenty of that during the night.

Mind you, I wasn’t here for much of it. I was with the daughter of a woman who was at the University where I studied and I was persuading her to elope with me. We ended up fleeing up to Canada, Montreal in fact and I was persuading this girl that we would be fine there. Estate Agents worked on commission from the owners and once they knew what kind of property we were after and what our budget was, they would move heaven and earth to find us somewhere.

We were with Darren and Rachel and at least three other people and telling this agent what we wanted. I explained that we were not expecting to find somewhere at Astoria (did I mean Anjou, my favourite suburb of Montreal?) or in another suburb the name of which I can’t remember but we didn’t want an inner city place and we needed space to park a few cars.

I took this girl on a tour of the suburbs, some of them quite expensive, and I remember our discussion being punctuated by me saying “ohh look, there’s a Ford Consul” and that kind of thing.

So having dealt with these issues I finally managed to wake up and make myself a coffee. Then I hit the road.

At least, just as far as Nantua, when a most unusual lorry stopped me in my tracks. A Willeme it is, a marque that I have never heard of before.

The company began just after World War I when a young man bought a job lot of spare parts for American wartime lorries, with the aim of selling them to people who had acquired the wartime lorries. From there he went on to reconditioning the vehicles and then to build his own heavy lorries and tractors for articulated units.

However the company didn’t last all that long. Despite the reputation that his vehicles had for reliability and strength (there was even a tractor unit that could pull 1000 tonnes), the company disappeared in the late 1960s.

I had a pleasant drive through the showers and ended up in Macon. That has a significance for me because in 1970 when I was 16 I spent a summer there as a guest in a French family.

While I was having had a good look around in Macon, I noticed a sign for “Chasselas”. Never mind the “Chateau de Chasselas, hey Josiah?” of the for Yorkshiremen in a Monty Python sketch, Chasselas is a real place and there is a real chateau there with a vinyard and it produces high-quality white wines. And if you want to know how I know, the answer to this is that in 1970 when I was at Macon, I spent a lot of time at the village bar at Chasselas, the home of the aunt of the family with whom I stayed.

The road up to Chasselas passes through some interesting, if not famous countryside, especially if you are connoisseur of grands crus, and also if you know your wine very well.

Just down there are two villages, once called Pouilly and the other called Fuissé and some of the best white wine in the world comes from there, produced from the grapes that you see in the foreground. Way over in the background is the valley of the Saone and the town of Macon.

We’d been to Chasselas, Nerina and I, in 1992 when we went to the south of France in the old Ford Fiasco. The old bar was still there then but it had been converted into a kind of shop, and I forgot to take a photo of it. Seeing as how I was within about 15kms of the place today, off I went.

It’s now a private house as you can see, and there seems to be a little money about the place. And here’s a surprising thing. A woman walking down the road looked as if she might know a thing or two about the old bar and to my complete and utter surprise sje turned out to be the daughter of the owner of the bar. She was about 12 when I was there and I remember her having a terrible crush on me (although I can’t think why). I’m astonished as to how small the world is these days.

So having caught up on old times I went off to the Chateau and disturbed them at lunch in order to buy a crate of Chateau de Chasselas to share amongst my friends. Yes, it’s something of a myth to say that you can never disturb a Frenchman at his lunch – this guy was keen enough to take my money. We also talked about the rain last night. They had had a hailstorm here and much of the harvest was ruined.

Not too far from Chasselas is another place of interest. This is La Roche de Solutre – the Rock of Solutre and incredible though it may seem, I’ve climbed that. Or, at least, I did when I was 16. I don’t know what must have come over me but I do recall being with a bunch of French youths at the time so I didn’t want to let the side down, I suppose.

The story goes that prehistoric man used to herd wild beasts up to the top and push them over the top as a way of killing them to collect the meat. The fact that heaps and heaps of prehistoric animal bones have been found at the foot of the drop is thr reason why this theory has been advanced.

So after that I headed for home via the supermarket at Paray le Monial where I did my week’s shopping.

And here I am. And here I’ll stay – for the next few weeks at least.

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Wednesday 2nd July 2014 – THERE MUST HAVE BEEN QUITE EXCITING TIMES …

… at football matches in Liechtenstein in the past if the sign here at the National Stadium is anything to go by.

Who in their right mind would have gone to a football match in the past with a knife, a pair of knuckle dusters, a rocket launcher and a firearm? Not even a Millwall fan I suspect (“and of course, this is three years before Bala Town were drawn to play here in a Europa League match” he added in 2017).

Still, they wouldn’t have put this notice up if they hadn’t had any issues with these in the past. That’s why I reckon that it must have been quite exciting to have watched a match here.

Never mind the football – come here to watch the spectators.

And you have a nice stadium to do it in too. It’s quite modern and comfortable, currently undergoing refurbishment too, and which has a capacity (following the renovations) of 7838.

“Not a lot” you might be thinking. But then again, the population of the town is all of 5429 at the last count, so the inhabitants can have about 1.4 seats each.

So in the pouring rain I crossed the road from Ze Gasthof zum Deutschen Rhein to the bus stop and here’s the bendy bus that brought me into the city of Vaduz. I’m becoming quite adept now at public transport in strange lands.

However, in contrast to everywhere else I’ve been (except the UK of course), I’ll be passing an adverse comment about the bus fare. Despite the minimal sales tax of 8% here in Liechtenstein, it was still CHF4:80 each way.

And it wasn’t just the bus fare either. A pot of coffee cost CHF7:80 and two tomatoes cost CHF1:00. Liechtenstein is definitely not the place to be if you are on a limited budget like Yours Truly.

Mind you, this is one of the richest countries in the world with the second-highest standard of living and the lowest amount of income tax so I suppose that the people can afford it.

So I ambled around the town in the pouring rain and, believe me, it doesn’t take long because there isn’t very much of the town to see. My memories of the place from October 1988 were that it was just two roads – into the centre on one road, do a loop around at the far end, and back out on the other.

It’s very different today because one of the roads has been pedestrianised. So there’s just one road through the town today. And there’s a fair bit of traffic trying to negotiate it.

And Nerina wouldn’t recognise the place either from those days as many of the old buildings that I remember have been ruthlessly carved down and modern monstrosities built in their place.

The royal palace is still perched up there on its cliff, and that is a surprise seeing all of the other changes around here. I would have expected that to have gone too.

Mind you, I wonder what Prince Hans-Adam II, the ruler of the Principality of Liechtenstein, has to say about the changes to his view of the city from the terraces up there.

When they built the Government offices at the beginning of the 20th Century they made a good effort to try to keep something of the Medieval traditions. Today however, there is not even a pretence.

Having “done” the city I went for a walk out of town to the River Rhine. It’s not very far, even in the pouring rain. Formerly the river ran in a meandering course much closer to the city but a disastrous flood in 1860 caused the inhabitants to divert the river away from the city and reinforce the banks.

Canada might well have a preponderance of covered bridges as we all know, but Europe has its share too. I saw one at Lech the other day, and here’s one crossing the Rhine.

By the way – on the other side of the river is Switzerland. So the border is clearly defined. In other places it isn’t, and the Swiss Army has “invaded” Liechtenstein 3 times “by mistake” in recent times.

And why didn’t the Liechtenstein Army fight back? The answer is that it doesn’t have an army (that’s why taxes are so low). Well, it does. It consists of two men – one to fire the rifle and the other one to ask for the bullet back.

By the way, Liechtenstein is one of the smallest countries in Europe. The Papal Enclave is certainly smaller (we were there in 2000 if you remember) and it’s quite possible that San Marino is too.

Another thing that is quite surprising for a capital city is that it was not until the last 20-25 years that Vaduz became a city in the traditional sense of the term when the parish church was consecrated as a Cathedral. And it’s certainly one of the smallest cathedrals that I’ve ever been in.

Another claim to fame that the city possesses – or maybe doesn’t possess – is that it is probably the only capital city in the developed world that possesses neither a railway station nor an airport. You have to fly in to Switzerland or Austria and catch a bus.

Anyway, that was my trip to Vaduz and, soaking wet, I caught the bus back to the hotel.

And the verdict on Vaduz? Frankly, Nantwich has much more to offer. Not that that’s any surprise either. Nantwich has a population of about 12,000 if I remember correctly. Vaduz has less than half of that and is probably the smallest capital city in the world.

It’s a fact that there are more Limited Companies registered in Vaduz than there are inhabitants.

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Monday 30th June 2014 – THIS IS THE VIEW …

… from my bedroom window.

Not my bedroom window from last night, but my bedroom window from this evening. For I am in another hotel. This is actually in Trafoi which is a tiny village in the Alto Adige, the Southern Tyrol, in Italy. It’s halfway up the Stelvio Pass on the way to St Moritz and Switzerland. This was a Shearings destination from the 1980s and didn’t last long, not the least of the reasons being that to road up here from the Reschen Pass is pretty dreadful.

Anyway, it was another item on my list of places to visit – and here I am.

Even more surprisingly, this is actually the first hotel in which I have ever stayed in Italy. All my previous visits have been either with friends, with Nerina’s family or in a nunnery, and I bet you think that I am joking too. "You’re forgetting your skiing trip with Anna in 1996 " – ed.

The Alto Adige is a weird place to be. It was formerly part of the Austrian Empire until 1919 when it passed to Italy in the peace treaty between the two countries after World War I.

After World War II it remained with Italy, presumably due to the fact that Italy had ended the war on the winning side, but you would have a hard job convincing the inhabitants. Here’s a German flag flying outside the house of one of the inhabitants.

Not only that, most of the signs here are in German even though we are in Italy, and the official roadsigns show the town names in both German (which is displayed first) and Italian.

I’ve also seen grafitti to suggest that at least some of the people here are interested in independance.

The border between Austria and the former Italian city-states has always been fluid. This is Festung Nauders, the Nauders fortress dating from the end of the 1830s and there’s another building of a completely different style just across the road and dating from 1840.

It’s not too difficult to imagine that the reason for these two buildings being here in the Reschen Pass is that this was at one time a border crossing following one of the frontier adjustments.

Today the building is a military museum and outside is a display of tanks. The Reschen Pass was heavily fortified and many of the German defences still remain today despite the best attempts of everyone to blow them up and remove them.

The Pass was to be defended every inch during the last few weeks of April 1945 as it is the soft underbelly of the German Reich on a direct route to Munich. However, events at Berlin forestalled everything.

This morning in a torrential downpour I went for a walk around Lech to see what was what. As I said yesterday, I was here in 1988 but I didn’t recognise the place. It’s changed out of all recognition since those days.

I didn’t stay long either because the weather really was quite dreadful too and it was no fun walking around in all of this.

Next stop was Pfunds and this was another place that Nerina and I had visited – and on more than one occasion too. We spent a night here on our honeymoon while we were on our way to Italy and if she were to pass by this place today she wouldn’t recognise it, apart from the name painted on the wall.

Still, 25 years is a long time in tourism and time won’t stand still for anyone.

Not too far away is a little enclave of Switzerland called Samnaun. It was formerly isolated from the main part of Switzerland and so was a duty-free haven. However there is now a road from Switzerland that connects with the area but the duty-free status remains.

Not that is does any good because the place is full of Porsches and the like buying up the perfumes – the entire place smells like a tart’s boudoir – and there is nothing of anything at all that might be of interest to me.

I come here for the views, which are certainly spectacular as you can see for yourself. There isn’t much like anywhere in the Alps quite like this.

Another thing that brings me here is the diesel. 114 cents per litre in Euros (it’s Swiss currency here of course) and that’s the second-cheapest that I have found so far in Europe after Andorra in March.

From here I headed back down to the Reschen Pass and you know the story from here on in.

Sunday 29th June 2014 – YOU CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR EYES, CAN YOU?

I thought you wouldn’t. But that is indeed snow up there in the background. Here on the 29th June, the temperature has dropped to 3.3°C and there is snow in the rain here but up in the mountain pass that I’ve just driven through, it really is snowing.

So where am I then? I’m actually in a village called Lech which is high in the Austrian Tyrol way above the Arlberg Pass between Innsbuck and Bregenz on the Swiss border. Nerina and I visited here on our honeymoon in October 1988 and made a vow that one day we would come and stay here. Of course things have moved on a great deal since those days, but here I am all the same. At least I have made it here.

And here is a guest-house that charges just €25 for bed and breakfast and while it isn’t 5-star luxury, I’ve never had value for money quite like this. I also found a decent Italian restaurant here that cooked me a special meal. I spent the evening there talking Italian to the staff there and it’s amazing how much came back.

This has made me make a decision that for all of the languages that I can speak in a marginal kind of way, I’m going to spend some time in each country at least once per year. I’m not sure how this will work for my Russian, but we’ll see.

This photo is interesting too. This is Sankt Christophe, the highest point in the Arlberg Pass. I have a photo that I took here when Nerina and I passed by. It featured the old Cortina estate that we had – OCC 883S and a hanging cloud that had chased us all the way up the pass billowing over the crest. This photo features Caliburn of course, and it would have featured Strawberry Moose too except that it was absolutely p155ing down and snowing, and His Nibs didn’t fancy getting wet.

And I can’t say I blame him either. This is what it looked like on the Motorway between Innsbruck and Bregenz. Totally dreadful as you can see and I was driving with the rear foglights on. It was the only way to be seen through the spray coming off the road. The hanging clouds wedged up against the mountains look impressive too.

And doesn’t Strawberry Moose take an excellent photograph? He should be proud of his skills.

This is the weather that we have been having all day. It was raining when I left bei Hanzi this morning and gradually degenerated as I drove down the B11 towards the Austrian frontier. Once in the Alps we got the lot and that was that.

So I’m going to have an early night and hope for better things tomorrow.

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Wednesday 26th February 2014 – THIS IS WHERE …

… Caliburn, Strawberry Moose and Yours Truly stopped for lunch this afternoon.

I’m at Le Cap Ferret, which is on the French South-Western Atlantic coast not too far from Bordeaux. There is an errand and some Pionsat-based research to be undertaken in this neck of the woods and when I woke up this morning at Brive-La-Gaillarde to another round of miserable driving rain and the only spot of clear weather on the whole of today’s map of France seemed to be around here, I thought “sod this for a game of soldiers” and I’ve gone West.

“Not before time” I hear you say, but anyway, as Marshall MacMahon once famously said, “here I am and here I’ll stay”

One reason for coming here is that there is a big lighthouse on the Cape and as many long-term readers of this rubbish will recall, I have quite a thing about lighthouses.

But this one wasn’t what I was expecting to see for rather than being isolated on some kind of sandspit somewhere, it’s right in the middle of a built-up area. Access is very difficult and also it’s not easy to find a good spot to take a photograph. Still, one does the best one can.

I went for a good long walk for a couple of hours along the beach. Part of the beach is actually an enormous sandspit that stretches for a good mile, if not more, just offshore and it’s a wonderful place to go for a stroll.

There was practically no-one about which was surprising given how qwarm it was this afternoon. But I bet that it wouldn’t be like this in July and August, not by any means

We’d had a few sudden, short storms during the day, some of them quite heavy, and while I was out on my sandspit we had another one.

Come and gone in a flash, but we had the most astonishing rainbow and I’ve never seen one quite like this before. It came out really well on the photo which was something of a surprise as it doesn’t usually happen like this either.

But on the debit side, dunno if you remember me fixing the auxilliary charging circuit on Caliburn on Monday. Since then, there has always been an occasional little whiff of Sulphuric gas from the battery – no surprise as the battery is goosed and it’s only there to make a circuit. But this evening there was a different smell. The second battery is behind the driver’s seat so while I was driving, I put my hand down to feel if anything was out of the ordinary happening to the battery – and promptly burnt my hand.

The battery was more-than-red hot and so I think that it’s gone totally o/c. And so hot that I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had burst into flames either.

I’ve disconnected it anyway and I’ll have another look at it tomorrow. Or sometime. Maybe.

But now I’m in a little seaside hotel just down the road from Le Cap Ferret. No idea where I’ll go tomorrow, but I don’t feel like going home.

And last night?

I was with Nerina and we went to the Victoria Hall in Hanley to see Neil Young. We were very early and caught him on stage setting up and checking his equipment. There were about 20 early birds in total and he invited us all on stage for a chat, and asked us if we had any questions.

I asked him about his songwriting – I reckoned that the songs that he wrote when he had the Black Dog looking over his shoulder were by far and away the best. Did he agree? And how did he cope with Depression affecting his songwriting.

He replied that he was so accustomed to it that he had learned to live with it and what he wrote, as long as it was technically competent, he had no qualms whatever about recording. Songwriting is all about expressing the writer’s moods and there is good and bad, just like in life.

He then asked for a volunteer todo something and, to my surprise, Nerina volunteered. Not like her – she always had very firm preiciples. But nevertheless she left her position of crouched on the floor at Neil Young’s feet and went off to do this task.

-3

Tuesday October 8th 2013 – HAPPY SILVER WEDDING ANNIVERSARY.

Yes, it’s my silver wedding anniversary today – 25 years of marriage. And the fact that I haven’t seen my wife since 1994 doesn’t change a thing – it’s still the silver wedding anniversary and so happy anniversary to me, and to you too. And this of course does remind me – not so long ago someone, who really wasn’t au fait with the situation really did ask me if I talked to Nerina while I was making love. My reply was that it all depended upon whether or not I could reach the telephone.

So how did I celebrate it, you may well ask. Not like Alan Shearer who, all those years ago, celebrated winning the Cup Final by going home and creosoting the shed, I woke up at 02:00 exactly after crashing out last night. 02:00 in Greece is exactly the same time as 00:00 in the UK and that must be the purest of pure coincidences.

Being unable to go back to sleep, I did some work on the computer, worked on one of the Rock Music programmes that I do for Radio Anglais, and then emptied all of my bags and suitcases and weeded out the tubbish. And found, to my dismay, that while I had brought back my winter coat as well as my winter fleece, having resolved to leave one of them behind in Montreal, I’ve also somehow managed to leave behind all of my clothes. All I have is what I’m wearing plus the clothes that I was wearing up until I had my shower at Crown Point the other evening. That called for a clothes-washing session under the shower at 05:00, which wouldn’t have been so bad had I remembered to bring back the washing soap.

I’ve also managed to forget to bring back all of the SD cards for the computer, which is annoying to say the least. I can’t even think where they might be because I did sort through the boxes before I put them away in my storage unit, and they didn’t come to light there. So I dunno.

Trixi had us all outside to watch the sunrise over Aegina and then we started the yoga. Trixi teaches Dru Yoga, not that I know anything about it, but I was surprised that some of the relaxation and de-stressing techniques that I have been using for years are mirrored in Yoga (which is probably why they work) and so I wasn’t actually far behind the rest of the group.

That took us up to 09:00 and breakfast, and then following a relaxation, we had our singing sessions from 11:30 until 13:00. I don’t care what anyone else says – I still sing like a vache espagnole and I always will, but it’s why I’m here and it’s why I’ve paid for this course so I ought to have my money’s worth.

While everyone else was at lunch I went for a walk around the little town to look at the scenery and the buildings. I found a bakery and bought a small loaf, and also a tomato from over the road in the greengrocer’s. Sitting on the beach and eating the bread and tomato was a good way to enjoy the sun.

Back at our lodgings everyone else was in the water swimming but I’m having to forego that pleasure. The sea bed at the shore shore is full of sea urchins this time of year and with not having any footwear for the water, it would be extremely painful to step on an urchin.

Another Yoga session was from 17:30 until 19:00, followed by dinner. And I’m being looked after really well by the chef (also called Eric). Trixi and I and one or two others sat up until all hours in the evening chatting about old times. After all, I first met Trixi … errrr … 48 years ago when she had this gorgeous long hair way down past her waist and until a chance meeting last November, I hadn’t seen her since 1972.

+39

-5

Sunday 2nd May 2010 – As you may well have noticed by now …

… I spend an awful lot of my time on these pages bemoaning the “great clear-up” of French hedgerows and fields in the 1990s that saw thousands and thousands of interesting old French cars depart for the smelter – a national tragedy.

If I were still with Nerina, she would be quite pleased because our summer holidays in the 1980s consisted of us going to France and me abandoning her in a country lane while I leapt over a hedgerow armed with my old Cosina to snap something interesting that I had found.

So today was just like old times as I travelled along a road down which I have travelled hundreds of times before, did a quick double-take over something that I have never noticed before, did a u-turn through the traffic and disappeared over a hedge into a field, armed this time with my Pentax.

I’ve no idea what it is as I couldn’t get close enough but the long bonnet, wings and running boards puts it at the late 1950s at the latest. It’s restored a little bit of my faith in rural France anyway – I don’t know how I could have missed this vehicle considering all the times that I’ve driven down here.

Strangely enough, I was on my way back from an agricultural machinery surplus sale at St Gervais d’Auvergne. I’d been to see if there was anything worthwhile for me to buy for here but it was a waste of time. Just probably 20 items for sale, most of which was heavy stuff. There was a tractor for sale – a huge thing – made in 2006 and the price they wanted for it was €46000. God alone knows how much it must have cost when new. Who says farmers are poor and impoverished?

At the same time as the agricultural machinery sale, there was also a vintage vehicle exhibition. That was really the main reason why I’d come out this morning.

However, it wasn’t all that impressive. There were all of about 10 vehicles on display, most of which I have seen at other shows in the neighbourhood. This is a Renault lorry of the early 1950s and I think that it might be a Type R2161, the famous 2.5T

I bumped into Liz and Terry too – they were fuelling up at the petrol station across the road. That was the highlight of the visit to St Gervais d’Auvergne.

Back at the footy, Pionsat’s 3rd XI were playing Effiat. Effiat are propping up the division and so this was a match that Pionsat couldn’t afford to lose. The game was arranged for two weeks hence but Effiat asked if it could be moved forward, to which Pionsat agreed. Of course this weekend is a blank weekend in the calendar (it’s a bank holiday) and so no other matches are being played. And cynics might think that in this desperate struggle at the foot of the table Effiat have decided to play today so that they can reinforce their team with players from their 1st and 2nd XI.

Indeed, the team that took the field bore no resemblance at all to the team that Pionsat beat back in December. The players were younger, fitter and keener.

But once again, Pionsat not only had a full team out (including one player from the 2nd XI who needed some match practice), they could afford the luxury of Eric, Jerome and Marc on the bench – 3 stalwarts of the team.

Another regular from the team couldn’t get a game and Thomas of the 1st XI and one or two others had turned up “just in case” the 3rd XI was short-handed, but they weren’t needed.

And they weren’t needed indeed.

Pionsat matched them ball-for-ball and with the luxury of 3 keen players on the bench giving the tired legs of the defence a rest every so often Pionsat prevailed by 2 goals to 0. And quite right too – they really did play well.

The season is over for them now and they ended up finishing 6th out of 10 – a far cry from where they were at the end of November anchored at the bottom of the table. They’ve struggled along in fits and starts but kept on going when things were against them. And a couple of unlikely results have helped them, as well as a good goal difference. Strange as it is to say it, losing 6-1 to Manzat was something of a triumph as 2 weeks ago Manzat beat another team at the foot of the table by a whopping 19-0.

-2

Sunday 21st March 2010 – One thing that has been missing from these pages …

… has been “old cars”. I don’t mean the Merc and the Cortina and the old Transit, that have graced these pages just recently – I mean the real stuff.

If Nerina were here right now she would tell you of our holidays in Europe during which I spent most of my time scavenging around in hedgerows for the real old stuff, like this … errrr… Studebaker Champion from about 1950.

This (or rather the first model for this one is a type two) was the car that saved Studebaker from bankruptcy. A big straight-six sidevalve engine that was phenomenally economical for its day and during the petrol rationing in the USA during World War II this car sold like hot cakes.

So what is it doing here in St Pardoux? Especially as it is sporting California licence plates.

Talking of sporting, I was in St Pardoux on my way to somewhere near Maringues to watch Pionsat’s 3rd XI play ES Thuret. Pionsat had 10 players and Thuret were complete but Pionsat still gave them a good run for their money and the game finished, surprisingly, 0-0. It’s the only game so far that I didn’t take any action photos, for the simple reason that there was no action.

Well, there was – in the second half a Pionsat defender whalloped the ball into touch (they’ve been clearly reading my notes) and a girl – and a girly girl at that – who happened to be walking around the ground – she caught it fully and completely in a fashion that any goalkeeper would have been proud of. And the cheers from the crowd were encouraging.

And not to be out-done, a high clearance into touch fell just nicely for me and I headed it back on the volley into play and into the arms of Xavier who was running up to take the throw-in. Again, this was greeted by enormous cheers from the crowd.

But this has got me thinking. This was a basement clash between two of the worst clubs in the entire Puy-de-Dome league. The standard was appalling and I’ve had enough of this so I spoke to Jerome, the organiser of the team, and he’s agreed that I can come and join in the training on Wednesday evenings. And I spoke to Terry when I got home, and he’s coming along to the training too. We probably won’t get to play at all, but at least it’ll get us both up to a decent level of fitness.

You would think that we were both old enough to know better.

-5

Saturday 13th February 2010 – I must have been tired last night.

Crashing out for a couple of hours and then going to bed early and then sleeping through the cacophony that is my series of alarm clocks and not waking up until 10:24. At least I’m feeling better though today. I think it must be all of these bad nights of sleep catching up on me.

This morning that strange gold thing put in a brief appearance up in the sky so I quickly climbed up onto the roof and brushed off the solar panels. I caught a few amp-hours of sun before the heavens clouded over again. But I also dug Caliburn out of his snowdrift and went for a spin up the lane to see if I could get out. Good job I have my new snow tyres because I did manage to make the public highway with a little bit of luck and perseverence. A wise decision to get these tyres, I’ll tell you.

So with a little tidying up I came up here and carried on reading my book. It’s called The 91 before Lindberghand it details all of the successful Transatlantic air crossings before “The Flying Fool”. It’s a fascinating book, especially for me, because as you know I have quite an interest in historic aviation and on one occasion while poking around on an old industrial estate on Long Island I came across a replica of the “Spirit of St Louis” and I had the extreme pleasure of being able to sit at the controls.

Furthermore the book recounts the early airship developments for Transatlantic flight that took place at Atlantic City in New Jersey – another place that I have visited – and then goes on to talk about the legendary near-miss between an airship and a four-masted schooner at Barnegat Lighthouse, yet another one of my haunts.

After that, seeing as there was a gap in the snowfall I went into St Eloy to do some shopping and pick up some gas. I was going to say “nip” into St Eloy but in third gear at 25mph all the way then “nip” it was not. It was an awkward drive but I managed okay and I’m now stocked well up for whatever else this weather can throw at us.

In other news, it’s the 25th anniversary round about now of an event that could have got Nerina and yours truly five years inside without the option. We’d seen a house that we liked and so we put Gainsborough Road on sale and priced it for a quick conclusion. Unfortunately the owners of our dream house wouldn’t reduce the price by very much and the only offers we were getting for Gainsborough Road would have left us with a shortfall.

Now you might think that a mortgage or a bank loan would be the answer but we were both self-employed running my taxi business. And with taxi businesses being what they call “cash businesses” the cash had a tendency to … errr … evaporate long before it made its way into the accounts so the accounts only bore what might be described as “a passing resemblance” to the true state of affairs of our business. We could easily afford the kind of loan that we needed but the accounts didn’t seem to bear it out.

So what we did was that we scratched around for work – any kind of work at any price and it didn’t matter at all if we were never ever going to be paid to do it as long as it looked good on paper – and heaved it into the accounts of the taxi business. It vastly inflated our “recorded” turnover and made everything look so impressive. So much so that the Bank loved our figures and started to heave huge wads of cash at us.

Luckily – and I mean luckily – the chain collapsed. The house we were interested in was taken off the market and so we took mine off and handed the cash back. And why “luckily”? For the simple reason that going to dubious, if not spurious means to inflate your company’s turnover for the purpose of getting an additional loan from a bank or a building society almost inevitably guarantees you a one-way ticket to Shrewsbury nick (or in Nerina’s case, Styal) because sooner or later your little fraud and deception will be uncovered.

Running my taxi business for eight years taught me an awful lot and many of the things that I learnt I would have been better off not knowing. But then again what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and I had a few incredibly lucky escapes. When I realised all of the risks that I had been running it completely spoiled my appetite for nefarious activities and I certainly wouldn’t do it again. It’s not something that I would advise anyone else to do. If you need to go to these lengths to support your lifestyle then you need to change your lifestyle to one that you can support and if you can’t do that on your own then you need to find professional help.

-6

Friday 22nd January 2010 – all the charging circuits shut down today.

What happens is that the solar (or wind) charge during the day gradually increases the charge in the battery from the overnight figure (about 12.4-12.5 volts is a good figure) up to about 14.1 volts if it’s a good day.

Once it’s at that figure it maintains the charge for a short while to give the batteries a chance to warm up inside and to shake loose any oxides that have accumulated, and then it goes into PWM mode, which is where it distributes the charge equally over all of the batteries and balances the incoming charge against the outgoing load.

When it’s happy with all of that it goes into FLOAT mode where the circuits close down until the charge in the battery drops to about 13.4 volts, and then it all starts up again and we repeat the cycle.

So today was the first day since October (I think) that we all went into FLOAT mode, even with the fridge running throughout the day. Three good days of solar charge has done wonders for my system.

This morning I was woken up by Antoine ringing me. Mind you, it was almost 10:00. I’d slept through all of the alarms again. I’ll have to do something about that. Then Antoine phoned me again, Claude came round for a chat, Liz phoned me twice and Francois phoned me once. I’m still in demand as you can see. I’ve never been so popular.

Today I made a start on the garden. I’m resiting my vegetable plot as you know and so I need to clear a place to move the old Ford Transit, the Merc and the British Salt Cortina because it’s under where they are currently that the vegetable garden will be. Back in 2002 all of this was cleared out but all these years of neglect has seen bushes, shrubs, brambles and trees grow right around everything. First job was to cut down a tree that was about 15 feet high and about 2 inches in diameter. That’s grown since 2002!

I could get at the back of the old Transit then and so I took off the towbar. I’m going to let Terry have it to fit on his new van. His is a 2005 model and rear wheel drive so it should fit okay and the tow bar is doing no good at all to anyone, rusting down a field. Older readers of my blog will remember the old Transit. I was on my way to a ferry at Caen to go to the UK for my OU science lab work when I had a puncture. You know that I prefer steel-belted radial tyres to textile belted ones. I’d been travelling at high-speed for hours and so the tyres were quite hot, and the blow-out occurred with such force that it blew the tread and the belting off the tyre. The steel belting spun round like a flail and ripped out the side of the van and the nearside wheel-arch and floor. Mind you, the van was 16 years old and it had seen much better days but it was still a mess and not fit to be driven on the highway after that.

But it’s going to be a lot of work to do this garden. I’ll have to start making the borders for my raised beds.

In other news, the UK is getting weirder and weirder. Some woman has been given a suspended prison sentence for breaching an Anti-Social Behaviour Order. And the Anti-Social Behaviour Order she has breached? Well, her moans and groans during lovemaking are too loud for her neighbours, and they played a tape of it in the courtroom. Personally, I cannot imagine anything so pathetic. I reckon that what it is is that the neighbours are just thoroughly jealous. I remember telling Nerina that it would be nice if she would moan while we were making love. And sure enough, half-way through the next performance she said “when are you going to paint this ceiling? It’s been like this for 5 years. And the walls need papering too …“

Mind you, I did once live next door to a couple whose lovemaking was exceptionally noisy. But never mind the ASBO – I always wanted to give them a round of applause when they finished. But you know how it is – you can’t clap with just one hand.

-8

Saturday 7th November 2009 – I almost did something today …

… that I haven’t done for over 10 years. That is – I went to the swimming baths for a swim. I’d done my monthly shop around Montlucon with plenty of time to spare and on the way back I stopped off at Neris-les-Bains where there is a public swimming baths. I’ve been there before during last winter to take my showers there but I really fancied a swim. And I always carry a holdall in the van with some washing stuff, some clean undies, a towel and a pair of trunks.

And of course, as you might expect, it was closed for the week for pool cleaning.

Neris is an old Roman spa town. It’s quite pretty and genteel – the kind of place that you would take your maiden aunt for afternoon tea. There’s a thermal baths there – something along the lines of Malvern – where you can go for a relaxing cure. It’s pretty good for the stress, so they say. So I wandered along to see if they could fix me up with a shower or something, seeing as I was here.

“Actually, we are closing today” said the receptionist.
“When are you reopening?”
“The 27th of March” she replied. You can see that it was my lucky day.
“Can I come without an appointment for a shower or a bath without signing up for a cure?”
“Certainly“
“So how much would that cost?”
And when she told me the price, I needed to sign up for a cure in order to recover from the shock. Prices start at €53:00. And here I am, complaining about €2:90 for a shower!

She gave me a leaflet with all of the details of the cures that are on offer. One of the things that they propose is a mudbath. Dunno why anyone would expect me to sign up for that – with all of the rain that we have had these last few days I have my own private mudbath just outside the front door. Admittedly it doesn’t have marble walls and floozies handing round the towels, but it doesn’t cost … gulp … €334 either.

Mind you, I do recall the time that I sent Nerina to have a mudpack applied to her face. They reckoned it would improve her appearance.
“Has it worked?” she asked when she came back
“Absolutely” I replied, “but it’s all worn off now“
Mind you, she enjoyed herself while she was having a weekend at this spa. She phoned me up to say that with all the treatments she had had, she was feeling like a new woman.
“So am I” I replied

This evening I went down to Pionsat to watch the 3rd XI play Thuret, but the ground was totally in darkness. You can see that it was my lucky day today! From the top of the hill just round the corner from me I can see right across the valley and I noticed that the floodlights were on at Marcillat’s ground, about 12 km from here so I drove over there instead. Some of Pionsat’s players were there watching Marcillat play Montvicq and they told me that the match had been rearranged for last week and the team had actually won! And I missed it too!

Marcillat play in Allier’s 2nd Division. That’s the same level as Pionsat’s 2nd XI, but the quality of football was probably lower 3rd Division based on Puy-de-Dome standards. Pretty much agricultural stuff. Marcillat won 5-1 (Montvicq’s goal was a Marcillat “own goal”) without breaking sweat, and I don’t think that Montvicq would score if they were still playing now with Marcillat having been off the pitch for the last two hours.

Anyway, tomorrow I’m going to watch the 1st XI at Artonne – I’ve never been there for a match. And that reminds me. I was in Brico Depot today and one of the assistants came over and started chatting to me quite socially.
“Who on earth is this?” I asked myself.
Anyway, after a lengthy discussion he asked “are you coming to watch us tomorrow?” Ahh yes. Pionsat footballer. What with Pionsat FC pie hut attendants working at the Auchan and footballers working at Brico Depot, I can see that I’m going to have to be on my best behaviour everywhere that I go. That’ll be quite a change.

+10

-10

Friday 30th October 2009 – I forgot …

… to take a photo of yeasterday’s efforts so I took one first thing this morning.

You can see my paste table – two trestles and a couple of bits of OSB, but saying that it’s a paste table is somewhat of an exaggeration seeing as what I’m doing is actually pasting the walls instead. So you might as well say that it’s a cutting table.

But this fibreglass wallpaper is awful and I hate it. It’s making me itch, which is one thing, and it’s dreadful quality stuff. But at least it’s cheap and easy to hang when you are on your own

But I’m useless at wallpapering and I hate doing it. I remember the time when the long-suffering Nerina asked me to help her to wallpaper and paint the walls in Gainsborough Road back in 1991.
“I hate decorating” I said. “Whoever invented decorating wants f***ing!“
“That’s not what you said on our wedding night” she replied. “You said that whoever invented f***ing wants decorating!”

This is today’s photo and you can see that it’s taken in the evening as it’s dark outside, if you look through the door. The four LED lights give quite a pleasing effect to the room, don’t you think?

If you look closely you can see that all of the walls are now papered and ready for painting, which I may well do tomorrow seeing as there’s no footy this weekend.

And if you look closely you can’t see the scaffolding tower that has been up there since we had no roof on the premises back in July. With the now-redundant woodstove in position you can’t manoeuvre the scaffolding around the walls and in any case the step stool is a little higher and much easier to move around.

In the wooden boz is my bed-settee and I can’t wait to set it up. I’m looking forward to having my first night’s kip on it and that can be any day now.

-5

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality