Blue Witch

Thought for our times

"Twitter, it seems, can radicalise anyone. That is deleterious on an individual level, but profoundly corrupting of the collective political process. The website is a vast polarising machine—a centrifuge that separates politics into the most extreme iterations of any given position. When the ideal conception of politics might be rival teams, advancing competing policy prescriptions based on some common set of facts, Twitter turns us into quasi-religious cults, looking at the world in terms of righteous believers and despicable blasphemers."

- Rafael Behr - how Twitter poisoned politics

The best explanation of the under-estimated and poorly understood effects of the Twitter phenomenon that I have read to date: "The strange story of how the decline and fall of political life has been fuelled by a website that started off as a platform for sharing gossip and cat photos,"

Ten years on...

...and I'm unconvinced that things are that different in the capitalist world.

I was expecting, and hoping for, some really insightful commentary to what continues to plague the developed world, ten years on.

Sadly, I haven't seen much. In fact, from offers we've had from the 'financial world' of late, I fear that history is repeating itself.

Are the issues being debated elsewhere that I am missing, or do people really not care any more?

Thought for the day

“Science flies you to the moon. Religion flies you into buildings.”

- Victor J Stenger

Over-priced

I still haven't got over seeing bread at £12 a loaf (yes, twelve pounds, for a loaf of rye bread) at a recent country fayre:

£8 and £12 for something I regularly knock up in a few minutes.

Who buys this stuff?

Yesterday, I saw some bars of soap for £8 in a 'shop for people with too much money' in a local town . "Only natural products, pure essential oils, hand-made!" claimed the point-of-sale display. Yeah, so is mine, and it costs less than a fiver to make 16 bars, because I've costed it out. £128 minus £5 = £123 profit. Sheesh.

I also strongly suspect that said shop is trading illegally, because, soaps, creams, ointments, balms etc sold to the public have to be tested and certified by a properly qualified chemist, which costs a minimum of £300 per product - hence why we don't (can't) sell the products we make from our own b33 products.

I'm always horrified when I see how much cleaning product Cleaner BW thinks is acceptable to 'discard'.

The image on the right is what she left in this week's 'empty' bottle.

I have her trained to leave 'empty' spray bottles by the utility sink, ready for me to remove labels and rinse out for re-use (so many purposes when you have a garden and crafty hobbies).

What she doesn't know is that I tip the remaining product into the new bottle she has started, rinse out the now-properly-empty spray bottle with liberal amounts of water, tip that into the new bottle too, before repurposing (I really hate that word) the original bottle.

Similarly, I always rinse out any empty shampoo and washing-up liquid bottles, and empty food jars and bottles.

I guess I'm in a minority there?

Soft saddle

No, not my latest project, but rather an old specimen from a cycle museum.

Can't quite work out exactly the technique used: but, some sort of gathered weaving, with a bit of macramé.

Cyclists aren't my favourite people - I'm sick of the MAMILs and EMILs (*shudders*) racing through our lanes, disobeying traffic lights around roadworks (of which there have been many around here this summer, and plenty of contradictory diversion signs), cycling two or three abreast dangerously across the whole width of a lane, and shouting at the tops of their voices at each other as they pass houses in otherwise tranquil countryside. Who'd have thought that 2 minutes of Tour de France passing through in 2014 would have led to 2,000 cyclists passing through every week now?

A friend of mine stopped at road works had her car's wing mirror broken by a cyclist overtaking a car coming in the opposite direction, another elderly lady I know was sworn at by an impatient cyclist who thought that pedestrian crossings didn't apply to cyclists, and only just managed to swerve around her, and a 9 or 10 year old boy on a very solid mountain bike ran into the back of my leg (I was walking with a friend, on a pavement, in a small town) a couple of weeks ago, which put me out of action for a week, and is still lumpy deep in the muscle, bruised and painful.

It's time cyclists were required to have registration plates and insurance methinks. And better manners.

Highly charged

The Met Office have decreed that 2018 was the UK's hottest summer on record. Or the joint hottest (with 1976, 2003, 2006) depending on how many decimal places and how many constituent countries one considers.

After a cold grey spell last week, it turned hot again for the weekend, so Mi1dred took us out for the day yesterday: to a 22 hectare Open Garden which is also a (private) sculpture park of about 80 works, of which about a dozen are by the owner.

Every time I see open land measurements these days, I multiply the hectares by 60, which is urban density building, and what is planned for thousands of acres of idyllic rural, open countryside, greenfield, prime agricultural land in these parts (and many others around the country). Population expansion, we must build new cities on this land, to house all these people, they claim. Hmmm.

With Brexit set to fail, perhaps this might solve the over-population problem and save our green and pleasant land?

While Mi1dred (right of centre) made an exhibition of herself (alongside the electric car that had to be plugged in there because there was the only charging point - how the hell is charging going to work when we all have to have electric cars - most people can't remember to charge their phones or laptops, and those heavy-duty charging cords will be a thieves' paradise) we wandered round and I seriously coveted the insulator sculptures.

This one is called 'Electric Blue Flash' (the actual flash was blue artificial 'grass'), so they must have known I was visiting:

This installation is in the midst of a sea of raked gravel (Japanese style):

A close up:

I wondered where all these stacks of insulators had come from, and then I looked up. There are many huge pylons crossing the land, which must have been replaced:


I have collected quite a few small insulators now, but haven't yet stumbled upon any large ones. So many must have gone into landfill over the years, or be hanging around unwanted and unloved. If only I knew where they were hiding.

MBWLA

You have to be a long-time reader to understand that title.

These days, my laugh threshold is very high. I just don't find most so-called comedians funny. Must be the Political Correctness that pervades our world.

But, it's now a whole week since I heard something on the radio that made me laugh, and it makes me smile every time I remember it, or I hear an example of same.

"You can always tell posh people's kids - they're the ones who have dogs' names."

Horseshoe puzzle

Does anyone know anything about horseshoes?

We found this one in a pile of newer used horseshoes in a junkyard.



Unless it is from a rarely reshoed pit pony, it seems older, smaller, and thinner, than those normally seen these days, and looks hand, rather than machine, made. And it has a wavy edge.

Any ideas?

Too many cucumbers?

We first made this cucumber pickle last year and it was fabulous. I was rather concerned that it wouldn't keep well, but we are still eating the last (forgotten and recently rediscovered) jar currently, and it is every bit as good as it was a year ago - but equally, it can be eaten immediately.

A few hints:

1. Cut the cucumber lengthwise into quarters, then pass through the 'fine' slice blade on a food processor (or mandolin). It does need to be really fine. No need to peel or de-seed though. The onions are best cut in half before processing similarly. They do need peeling first though!

2. It really is worth leaving the salted vegetable mix, in a sieve, over a bowl, under a plate and a heavy weight, overnight. Over 2 pints of liquid came out of 5 cucumbers!

3. Last year I added a couple of star anise to the prescribed vinegar mix. This year I used some powdered star anise.

4. Fill the jars nearly full of the drained cucumber/onion mix, using a wide funnel. Then cover them with a clean cloth while you reduce the remaining vinegar syrup (which will take 10-15 minutes). I found that all the liquid went into my jars, eventually, but I had to use the handle end of a (sterilised) teaspoon to make some passages through the mix in the jars before adding the liquid. Make sure both jars and lids are really clean and heat-sterilised (eg in an oven or microwave).

5. I used red onions (our own) and it looks really pretty!

5 cucumbers (medium sized) made 4 1lb jars, so if you have a glut, it will use them up!

Cucumbers that are going yellow (so past their best) are fine too, as the brining will remove the bitterness.

Great with cheese, in sandwiches or pittas, and, I imagine, with cold meats and in burgers.

H0ney for Health

It’s official.

NICE, The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence, says take good local h0ney for coughs and colds, rather than antibiotics.

Been saying it for years…

Now, can we get the local surgeries to stock our h0ney? No, on second thoughts, we couldn't keep up with the demand.

Data protection gone mad

GDPR.

Great idea?

No, just another excuse for companies to hide behind.

Utilities companies refuse to put accounts for electricity, gas, water, mobile phones, broadband or landlines in joint names, and now refuse to talk to anyone who is not the actual named account holder.

They refuse to change the name on an account into the name of a spouse residing at the same address, insisting instead that the account be closed, and a new account, with a new contract, is opened. This could well be on less advantageous terms than the existing account, and will probably extend the time you are tied to that provider.

"What happens," I asked [a nameless telecoms company], "if the account holder dies?" "When we have a copy of the death certificate, and proof of the executor, we can talk to the executor," I was told. "Suppose," I said, "that the executor is a solicitor, what happens then?" "Then we will only speak to the solicitor." "Even if the person wanting to take over the account is a spouse who also lives in the household, if they are not the executor of the will, or if there is no will?" "Yes." "Really?" (and I still don't believe this)

"What happens," I asked, "if the account holder leaves the household? This must happen all the time with students and relationship break-ups." "Then we need written permission from the account holder to release the account to someone else." "Suppose they are a foreign student who has gone home and is not contactable, or an estranged partner who is being awkward?" "Well they remain responsible for the bills, as they are in that person's name, so it is in their interest to resolve matters." "And suppose they don't, and they don't pay the bills as they are no longer living there?" "Then we will take action against them to recover the debt, and cut off the service." "Ah, let me guess, the letters will be sent to the address they last lived at, which is where the poor person wishing to take over the service lives, but you won't speak to them, because they are not the account holder?" *silence*

Many insurance companies now refuse to renew a policy if you are a named driver, insisting that only the policyholder can do it. In many families, one person does the finance and admin work. This is going to be hugely inconvenient for many people.

Certain companies no longer allow you to have a 'third party mandate' to enable you to nominate someone to contact them on your behalf (for instance, in case of illness or other absence from home making personal contact impossible).

I am unconvinced that this is what was intended by the GDPR, or that it is what it actually says, but try telling that to a jobsworth (at any level in a company - they all spout the same line now) on the end of a telephone.

And just wait until the new regulation that prohibits anyone except the account holder paying cash into a bank account (even with a pre-printed paying in slip, or a signed letter of authority from the account holder). Apparently the workaround is to pay the cash into your own bank account and then do an immediate electronic transfer. Which I'm sure will please HMRC as they will then be able to attempt to tax you on the money, as, being cash, you won't be able to prove where it's come from.

Some banks have introduced it already, and some (eg HSBC) are awaiting the Regulator's final direction. Some banks are are also refusing to allow cheques to be paid in by other than the recipient.

Is money laundering such a huge issue, or is it, sledgehammer to crack nut, meaning law-abiding people are, once again, greatly inconvenienced because of the few?

Or perhaps it is yet another attempt to force us all to abandon cash and cheques entirely?

Progress, eh? Have you come across any examples of gross stupidity along these lines? Or do you know anything more about any of the matters above?

Thought for the day

It feels like 1976. And that long, hot summer didn’t end well

- Andy Beckett

A good piece about the last really hot summer, 42 years ago, which was followed by a soaking, grey, autumn. "Just like this year’s, the heatwave in 1976 arrived as Britain seemed to be approaching an economic and political abyss."

I always knew courgettes were stupid...

... I now have the proof:

Who would volunteer to be trapped?

We use old hanging baskets (amongst over things) as covers for newly-sown or newly-planted crops. There is always another use for something before recycling it. Sometimes it takes a bit of creative thinking, but there is always another use.

The 'Reduce, re-use, recycle!' mantra needs to have added to it: repair, and rethink. Some areas have adopted the 5Rs, but not all - and some have added a 6th: refuse. This stuff is what I have been doing all my life though...

Looking peachy

There is nothing to beat the taste of a fully sun-ripened peach. Full-size and juicily orange-fleshed this year, thanks to many weeks of glorious hot sun, and an auto-watering system delivering just the right amount of water to the roots:

And there are plenty more on the patio peach tree (covered with fleece to keep the wasps away).

Here's the finished fuchsia glass table top, about 1cm thick, with a matt (non-slip) surface after two firings:

Not a very good picture as there isn't any nice shiny thing in the sky today.

Here it is after the first firing. Shiny, not flat, and needing a little remedial attention to the ends of the longer stamens as the opal pink we originally picked proved too similar to the white opal background:

And here's the photo I posted before so you can see how the colours changed during firing:

Here is the deteriorated mosaic top it is replacing. Tip: never make an outdoor mosaic from old crockery. Over time, the glaze will come off some of the bits, even if you think they will be frost proof:

Although you wouldn't know it now, this flower once had BW blue petals and was really quite nice.

I'll post a picture of the finished table soon - it's currently being repainted.

Thought for the day

"Being ignorant is not so much a shame as being unwilling to learn."

- Benjamin Franklin

(via - and do read this entire thread; it perfectly encapsulates what has got lost - or is missing - in today's England)

How do you brighten up a grey day?

Monday 6th: 33°C; summer. Glorious golden sunshine.
Tuesday 7th: 31°C; summer. Sunshine.
Wednesday 8th: 21°C; autumn. Overcast.

Thursday 9th: 15°C; winter. Grey drizzle.
Friday 10th: 16°C; winter. Light rain.
Saturday 11th: 16°C; winter. More light rain. Time to hibernate. And put the winter-weight duvet back on the bed.

Fuchsias are my favourite flower.

We have somewhere between 30 and 40 different ones, but can always welcome more to the family. The small fortune we have spent on vine weevil nematodes has proved really effective, and situating the majority in what is usually full shade (but not this year!) has worked well.

Genii:

Connor's Cascade:

We've been to 3 fuchsia shows recently. One is an exhibition, two are competitions. All sell members' surplus plants.

Marinka:

Inspired by these, Mr BW has been busy cutting up glass to make another table top (this one to replace the now-disintegrated mosaic top on the original scrap metal outdoor table that Mr BW forged a couple of years ago).

Here it is in the kiln waiting to be fired. The bits around the edge are the offcut scraps of glass that turn into smooth-edged beads (that can then be used for other projects) once fired:

Some (but not all) of the glass changes colour completely when it is heated (hence the test piece in the middle of the 'construction' picture above).

So, while I wait 18 hours to see whether we have judged the colours correctly, I shall sit in my new chair.

I bought the unloved chair for £1 at a local village garage sale, covered in very nasty, very thick, brown varnish (with some patches of white gloss underneath), which Mr BW painstakingly removed.

He then waxed it with beeswax polish (our own), and I made a cushion from raw fleece given to me, which I washed, carded, dyed, spun, then crocheted. The cushion is stuffed with more washed fleece, and will flatten down (felt) in a few weeks to be the exact size of the chair seat.

Amazing what you can get for £1 if you can be bothered to spend a little time.

I'll post a picture of the glass top later, when the kiln programme is finished.

I can't possibly comment...

Apologies to the many people who have left comments in recent weeks that have not appeared.

As I've always said, a blog without comments is just a website. I do appreciate your comments, and promise to keep a close watch on the sin bin in future, and to save any goodies before they drown.

An unsatisfactory end to a R4 era of great journalism

Eddie has left the building.

From reading his email in that link, he left 2 days before planned, and 7 shows before the 17th, the date that the BBC had told the audience would be his last show. Last night's stand-in presenter made some allusion to "all will become clear tomorrow", so there was clearly an editorial decision to keep the full facts from the loyal audience.

Which seems to be typical of the BBC these days.

I am officially in mourning.

And no word on his replacement. But - who can fill his shoes anyway? I don't know of anyone else who has his skill to ask the questions that no-one else thinks of, in an affable and pleasant manner; to challenge without belittling, and to be genuinely interesting and informative.

Now, can I get LBC this far out of London?

Happy Lammas

1.8.18

I shall never tire of noticing lovely numbers like this.
I'm so glad that my pleasurable moments come so cost-free.

One of my Patchy Ladies, described by another, in the former's absence, as, "A good old-fashioned country lady," today opined that the weather in the first week of August can be safely used to predict the type of winter we will have.

Apparently, the hotter this week of summer, the colder the winter. I wish I could find some easy-access statistics to prove or disprove this. But it does sound quite appealing. Back to the past with childhood memories of hot summers and cold winters. Proper variation between the seasons.

After 4 cooler days it's now hotting up again. It's still 27°C on the inside thermometer now, Hurrah!

8 weeks and 2 days without precipitation

Everyone else seems to be having lots of rain.

We had 6 minutes soon after 6am on Friday (58 days since the last rain), then 9 minutes soon after 6pm, a lot of distant thunder, then some very light drizzle and lots of wind (that dried the rain before it could soak in) today.

We don't have a rain gauge, but I doubt if it would be more than 15mm in total.

And as for all those who are claiming that the future water for all the hundreds of thousands of new (un)affordable houses being planned for rural green agricultural land in this area will come from 'a national water grid, being fed from the north', well...

As ever, I am saying that the biggest problem being faced by this country is not whatever the media are currently barking, but rather population growth.

For posterity:

Temperature while out in the car on Thursday:

Temperature while out in the car on Friday:

Temperature on the thermometer on the west-facing wall on Friday evening:

Sadly, since then, it's been 22°C on Saturday, 18°C on Sunday and 21°C and very very humid today.

It's too cold!

I hate it!

I might have to take the 1 tog duvet off the bed and put the winter one back on.

And replace the wall fan with the central heating.

I've had my paddler out (number 2 of 3 bought in Woolworth's closing down sale):

Mr BW has been making metal flowers (presumably against future drought):

But, for the time being, the flowers by the pond are beautiful:

How's the water/weather situation where you are?

Thought for the day

"Looking around the world, I wonder if there are truly any countries where things are still in balance?

I don't see any.

I also wonder what has caused this mess?"

- BW, elsewhere

Arts and Crafts

Very much in line with the thinking of the Arts and Crafts movement of the late 19th century, when we want something new, we usually make it ourselves. Fortunately, between us we have the skills to do almost anything. Mr BW does hard materials, and I do soft materials and design and colour advice. And teeth sucking.

Some months ago, Mr BW made a forged table out of an old tractor gear wheel that someone gave him, and had it galvanised when he had the new back gate he made (that I've shown you before - March 29th, below) galvanised.

It's been waiting for its top. We made a top for a previous similar table out of a mosaic made from old crockery, but this has deteriorated over several winters. Things sometimes have to wait for inspiration to strike before they can be finished.

Inspiration struck last week, and we decided to make a tabletop out of glass.

We worked out an agapanthus design, and Mr BW cut the bits out of coloured glass and placed them on a clear glass disc. As (frustratingly) I can no longer cut glass, I pushed the bits around by a few millimetres, and insisted on some tiny bits of different colour to improve the flow and 3D effect.

When it came out of the kiln after its first fusing, I knew that it wasn't right. I'd known before it went in the kiln, but hadn't insisted loudly enough. So we had to add to it when it had its second firing onto the white glass background.

That worked well, and it then had a third firing, with the top face-down on the kiln shelf (to make the surface matt and non-slip rather than glossy), while also adding a further clear glass disc to the back to make the finished glass disc much stronger. Mr BW has now perfected the fusing times needed for different effects, but, as it involves technology, I haven't a clue how to programme the kiln.

Once it was cool, we tried it on the table and both immediately knew that, despite what we'd originally thought, the silver-grey of the raw galvanising wasn't right.

Mr BW got out his spray can and immediately the agapanthus came to life.

Ooops, no, those are the ones in a pot in the Mediterranean Garden. Given where they come from naturally (southern African), they are amazing this year.

The finished table:

Now to have another inspiration for redoing the deteriorated mosaic top on the original table...

Random thoughts

It is now 7 weeks exactly since any rain at all fell here.

I have no idea why this site's guts are intermittently not working. Apologies if you have been intermittently locked out; I have too. Like much other technology, it hates me. And vice versa.

I also have no idea when the ridiculous system of 'government' in this country will implode, but it will sometime quite soon. Hopefully.

This situation made worse by Eddie Mair leaving Radio 4's PM (arguably the most digestible serious journalism) in the middle of the Brexit debacle. Can we get LBC 50 miles outside London?

But why anyone is surprised by how the Other 27 are behaving is beyond me - many years of Eurovision should have made what is happening entirely predictable. Why would you lose a Cash Cow, that you only tolerated for its monetary contributions, without getting as much out of them as you possibly could?

Jacob or Boris next?

I am hoping that Mr BW is not currently winning the golf tournament at the Mi1dred meeting tonight. I do not like the trophy and I do not want it again littering The Coven for the next year. But it amuses me that someone who played golf for only a brief time, 30 years ago, and is left handed, can beat regular golfers, while also playing with a right handed bat.

One of our broadband lines got switched to 'superfast' last week, for free. It now achieves 3.9MB, still less than a quarter of what we already pay for. The only way to make providers improve the situation is for there to be an 'only pay for the speed you get' clause. The other line gets somewhere between 0.8 and 1.6MB depending on which way the wind is blowing. You might be able to understand why I hate technology - it's never going to work under those parameters, is it?

We are extracting h0ney in the morning. For the second time this year. This year's unpaid apprentice is a senior member of the judiciary. Mr BW seems to be much more worried about preparations than usual. I'm worried that I might answer the door with a, "Good morning judge, how are you today?" I'm sure he's heard it a million times before. Ah, Deceptive Bends. How can that be 41 years ago?

I'm worried by the number of friends and acquaintances whose kids and grandkids are addicted to Fortnite. The (English state school) summer holidays start this week. R4's Moral Maze tonight had some interesting contributors to the internet addiction debate. And interesting generational splits in thinking.

Waste is a failure of imagination.

Friday 13th

It's still going strong

I should know how many years on, but I don't.

Exactly how did it get to the second half of the year?

There are now 68 days fewer of my life left than when I last posted.

It's likely that listening to that recent "I was..." programme on R4 including tales of Philip Larkin was not the best move. But, This Be The Verse.

At least most of those days were in the high 20s to mid 30s C. My favourite temperature, not often experienced in the UK, but we haven't had even a drop of rain since the end of May, which has meant lots of work to keep animals and crops hydrated. Give it a few years (particularly if the current senseless house building hereabouts continues unabated) and we'll all be down to 50 litres of water per person per day for everything, as they were in Cape Town when we were there at the beginning of the year.

Great excitement this week.

The Local Farmers have a brand new combine harvester, and have been cutting grass with it, using a BW blue chopper. For seed, not hay, I hasten to add. I wish I could find out who they were selling to... the purchasers are going to be sorely disappointed as there was no roguing done and 5 metres of weeds seeding into the crop from the field boundary border (can't wait until the subsidy for growing weeds that do nothing for the environment, other than make us weeding work, ends).

On Monday I saw (actually, heard first) 3 Lightnings (the new F-35 stealth fighter jets) whizzing, in stagger formation, almost on their sides, over Lavenham in Suffolk. If I had blinked, I'd have missed them. Exhilarating.

Yesterday I saw 97 other planes as well.

No, that's not quite true as the helicopters (Puma, Chinook, Juno and Jupiter) weren't leading the procession this far out; I understand they massed over Leyton.

We were sat in a field margin with a wide border of ragwort. Clearly ragwort isn't now the baddie that it used to be, although it taints h0ney, so does die on sight around here.

Looking at the published route, north of the A12, Mr BW came up with the theory that the planes would be following the railway line (which largely runs parallel to the road), as some of them only have war-navigation capabilities, and these often involved railway lines. We considered watching from one of the bridges over the A12, but arrived early and found them already crowded. Plus, I had a feeling that they wouldn't fly right over the road as it would have the potential to cause accidents (that stretch is infamous at the best of times). Hence going half a mile north, and into a field that Mr BW had noticed a car entering as we first passed, which gave us a fabulous view. 180 degrees of unobscured sky. I doubt that anyone on the A12 bridges saw much, as the planes were still fractionally north of us. There were two cars there when we arrived, and another half dozen cars (containing the older retired demographic) turned up after us.

From about 12.35pm, The WW2 Battle of Britain Memorial Flight planes (Dakota, Lancaster, Hurricane and Spitfire) did three wide circuits over us, obviously killing time before the modern planes turned up at just after 12.45pm. Although we get a lot of old planes flying low over us at home on their way to or from airshows in the summer, these old timers never fail to delight me.

And gosh, despite bright sunlight completely obliterating my camera screen, I did manage to get a close up of my favourite with my long nose.

I'm never quite sure what planes are what though, so was delighted that the RAF published a crib sheet, in flying order, which I printed off and took along.

The whole line-up took about 10 minutes to go over. Other planes we saw included the Prefect, Tucano, Hawk, Hercules, Atlas A400M, C-17, BAe 146, Sentinel, Voyager, Shadow, Rivet Joint (what a great name), E-3D Sentry, Tornado GR4, Typhoon and, right at the end, the Red Arrows, who were obviously saving their smoke.

We saw the 100, made out of 22 Tornadoes:

But also noticed the plane choreographing it (top right), that did a quick about-turn and returned to base (coming back over us) before reaching London. Ha, we know the secret!

Utterly, utterly breathtaking; even though I am totally anti-war.

But, much as I liked the planes doing a ceremonial fly-past, I still don't agree that the UK's defence budget should rise from 2 to 3% of GDP as some are currently positing.

And, on Friday, something very very exciting is happening. Very exciting indeed.

Colourful difficulties

I'm glad that I don't believe in Party politics.

I'm relieved that we don't have local elections here today, because, in the absence of some form of proportional representation, it is a total waste of time voting.

As I've said before, round here, if a Blue rosette were stuck on a pig, it would get elected, mindlessly and unthinkingly, just because it was Blue.

Now, I like blue. But not, mindlessly and unthinkingly, Blue.

Local politics have fallen apart round here since Blue control at District level replaced Orange control. What the hell is the point of the Localism Act of 2011 when anything done locally in its name is constantly bulldozered by District Blue-rosette-wearing swine, who robotically toe the Party line and do as Blue Central Government decree, unchallengingly, and irrespective of whether it is best for the people and area that they are supposed to represent?

I'm delighted to see that some followers of Corbyn are slowly beginning to see that the promised dream isn't being (and can't, and won't be) delivered. And, more importantly, are coming out in public and admitting that they were misled/wrong, and that they were carried along on a sledge of group think.

Perhaps these disillusioned people might now turn their energies to campaigning for proportional representation?

It's the only way Party Politics and the way the country functions might change for the better. It's the only way that every vote can count.

And, without sensible Opposition, the Party in Power will always be too Powerful.

It pays to reject minimalism

For some time now we have had Gardeners’ World cloche envy. If you watch the programme, and are a keen gardener, you'll probably know what I mean.

Some years ago now, Mr BW constructed some home-made cloches from some old bases that were about to go in a skip after being used on an exhibition stand.

They are (were), to say the least, now well beyond their best. They were rusty, the hoops were made from plastic pipe that had deteriorated over the years, and their covering of netting was torn.

With spring finally approaching and Monty Don’s cloches in full view on Gardeners’ World last week, the time had come for Mr BW to update ours.

He started by cleaning them back to rust-free metal. Then he welded in 10mm steel hoops for stability. A coat of rust-protecting undercoat and a top-coat of black paint ensured that they will last for many years.

Finally, some old plastic corrugated sheeting, saved from a skip at least 15 years ago (having served its purpose as a friend’s ‘lean-to’ roof), was located hiding near the oil tank, washed-off, then cut to slot inside the hoops. The end panels were cut from some off-cut plastic sheeting used in picture framing, held in place with some old tent pegs.

The corrugated plastic can easily be slid out and replaced with netting for summer protection of brassicas.

Total cost - about £2 for the metal used in the hoops, and £3 for the paint, the rest was recycled, or re-used. Saving? About £85 I think. And I'll bet ours last longer than theirs!

Only thing is, Monty has many more that we have, and believing that we still need more, I sent Mr BW to look round the Coven Grounds. He's just found another base behind the polytunnel, ripe for conversion...

I never rarely say 'no' when someone offers me something that is no longer useful to them. Most things usually comes in handy, eventually. Mr BW never knows what I will come home with when I go to one of my crafty groups. Many of the members are older, and seem to be in a constant process of decluttering or downsizing, and apparently can only bear to part with things because they know they will be put to good use at The Coven. I also have people who always save their jars, pots for plants, newspapers, cardboard boxes and other packing materials, for us, because re-use is so much better than recycling.

May Day, May Day, May Day!

The world has moved so far away from what was once normal, and stayed away for so long, that what we are living now has become normality. A sustained assault on everything, infesting our society until we simply got used to it and gave up.

I think the problem comes from the fact that most people are now totally disconnected from their physical and local environment, the fulfillment of their basic needs by their own efforts, and from their physical and local community.

Want something? Buy it. No idea of making it, growing it, cooking it, swopping/bartering for it, or (shock horror) saving up for it.

News is instantaneous and stutters from one subject to the next, with no feedback or update on past stories. So, no opportunity to learn from, or feel connected to, the past. No idea of continuity or cause/effect. No long-term buy-in.

Everything is a knee-jerk response. Not enough reflection, questioning, discussing.

And no sense that anything one does makes the slightest bit of a difference.

But it doesn't have to be like this.

Does it?

For those, like me, who love stars, as long as they are of the astronomical rather than the 'celebrity' variety

A mesmerizing new atlas of the Milky Way: containing 1.7 billion stars.

ESA now think that there are probably 100 billion stars in our galaxy (which is many times more than they conjectured when the Gaia project started).

More details here.

Interactive map of all the stars here. Amazing and beautiful images (easiest to use if you click on the symbol of a cube with question marks on the top left - and then use the '+' button on the RHS to zoom in). That's my weekend sorted :)

Let's hope there is something better out there somewhere... and that we don't find our way there to spoil it.

A cool spell

Summer was 5 days in the middle of April. From snow and minuses to golden sun and 30 degrees in 10 days. And now its back to grey, rainy, and cold. Ugggggg.

Between us, Mr BW and I have 21 current accounts. It's the only way to get a decent interest rate these days.

And, of course, to ensure that one always has access to some pennies, however negligent a particular bank is being in upgrading its technology. A whole week now eh, TSB?

Apparently they can't work out what has gone wrong.

Well, I can now exclusively reveal what has happened.

Never piss off a Witch is all I can say.

*cackles evilly*

Last month I tried to remove several past years' online regular savings accounts, with a nil balance (as I'd immediately moved out the proceeds as soon as the accounts matured at the end of 12 months), from my online statement list. After all, banks always tell you to close unused accounts, for security reasons.

With Halifax/BoS/Lloyds (on whose online platform TSB was based) you click one button, and old accounts magically and instantly disappear. With TSB, despite having looked on many occasions, I could not find a button to click, so I eventually gave up looking and rang up.

'Chardonnay', from somewhere in the Midlands, answered my call, after 6 minutes on hold, with no apology for the wait.

I explained my problem. She sighed and informed me that the only way to close such accounts was to visit a branch. I explained that they were online accounts, and I lived a 32 mile round journey from a branch, which I had never needed to visit.

I didn't like her tone, and suggested that she might like to try to be rather more helpful. Her reply caused me to ask to speak to her supervisor, having first stated that I was recording the call (I wasn't, but I wanted her to think carefully about how she spoke to customers in the future, and not to cut me off).

After another 8 minutes of nasty, headache-inducing music, the supervisor came on the line. Her name was (wait for this) 'Chelsea'. Same Midlands accent, and she seemed even dimmer and even more bored and unhelpful than the first operative.

I went through the story again. She repeated what I'd been told, speaking v-e-r-y slowly. When I expressed extreme dissatisfaction, she said that, in my case, I could send in a letter. Not an email, but a letter, and that this 'might' be acceptable to cancel the accounts - which, remember, were exclusively online-operated accounts, that had had a zero balance for many months.

I asked to speak to the floor manager. "He's not available for such matters!" she told me. "And his name is...?" I asked. "I'm not allowed to give out his name," she said.

"I'll guess it's 'Shiraz' or 'West Bromwich Albion' then," I said. "Now you're just being silly!" she said, clearly not understanding my thought patterns. "Now you're just beginning to understand how *I'm* feeling!" I said, "But, I need to tell you that I am recording this call, and I doubt your CEO is going to be terribly impressed by you telling me that I am silly when the recording arrives in his inbox."

After another 5 minutes of 'discussion', I finally got her to agree to arrange to close the accounts. "I'll have to send an email to another department" she wailed. "Why is that difficult?" I asked. She didn't answer.

By then I'd been on the phone for 29 minutes. I considered that this was due some kind of goodwill payment, to include the cost of the telephone call.

Now, my main bank would, without needing to be asked, have offered me at least £20 in such circumstances. 'Chelsea' offered me 75p, "take it or leave it," so I took it and reserved the right to complain further.

Or to do a stroooong spell.

The moral of this tale?

Never piss off a Witch, especially if your name is 'Chelsea'.

Now, do I have the ingredients for the antidote? And if I do, how long should I wait?

Wild life

I'm going out with Textile Friend BW tomorrow, to see a textiley exhibition.

Last night I looked up the weather forecast for Wednesday. "Gosh, it's going to be sunny and 28°C. That's better!" I told Mr BW. He frowned and looked over at my screen. "Erm, I think you're looking at the forecast for Cape Town and not Cambridge!"

Er, yes. I do rather torture myself at certain times of year. And I was tired.

A few weeks ago I received the 'project card' below in the post. So far I have challenged members of staff in 4 different locations of the gardening chain's stores about it. Not one person could see what was wrong with it.

I explained and asked them to pass on my concerns to the store manager, and ask them to contact their Head Office. I am very frustrated to find that the large display posters are still on display in stores now.

A total triumph of some city kids in marketing coming up with something 'pretty', over genuine knowledge of wildlife and its needs.

As usual from the 'garden centre' that is, in reality, a gift shop, caff and kids' playground, with a few totally overpriced and under-cared-for plants. Sadly they (and their ilk) have killed off most of the decent plant nurseries.

I hasten to add that I have only been in 4 branches because I was looking for bargain plug plants. And found them (20 for £1 rather than £4, and in better condition that those in local stores: the polytunnel is full!) :)

Do tell me that you can see what's wrong with this project, please...

When things don't add up

The other day, in reponse to a post about impossible statistics, over at LaP's, I was lamenting the fact that,

"... people believe what they hear/read, mindlessly, without thinking whether it can possibly be true, and without checking for original sources.

People don't understand statistics, or numbers, these days.

Now I just tune out of/walk away from any conversations that start with, "Do you know what I read on Farcebook?" Sooner or later I am accidentally going to say, "No, and I don't give a f*** as it will all be sh**!!!" "

We are constantly fed ridiculous numbers.

Yesterday the BBC One Breakfast News were claiming that one in five people admit to dropping litter. I don't think this was an April Fool's joke (and if it was, it's not funny, given the state of the verges and sides of most roads). I don't see how a recycling scheme, with 'reverse vending machines' for all drinks containers, irrespective of the material they are made of, will stop littering. They will cost a fortune to provide, and to run, as the article says.

I shall continue to believe that what we need isn't stupid schemes, it's ongoing consumer education and campaigns about littering, and proper recycling, with innovative methods of reprocessing all materials, that is the same in every area of the country.

And as for clearing up the existing litter? Well, there are plenty of long-term unemployed people out there... if they repeatedly claim they can't find a job, and can't be 'encouraged' to take one, even after the plethora of sanctions and 'work programmes' there are these days, then let one be created for them: picking up litter.

In many villages around here, there are litter-picking days several times a year when volunteers turn out to collect the litter that other people have mindlessly dropped. If litter-picking is good enough for the Middle-Aged of Middle England, then it's good enough for those who can't be bothered to get out of bed in the mornings. There is plenty of research on the social profiles of the litterati.

New rules came into force yesterday to fine people for dropping litter - but what is the point of fining? Reparation - for instance, ten hours of supervised litter-picking for each item of litter dropped would be much more of a deterrent. And images sent in by passers-by who witness fly-tipping and litter-throwing should also be considered. Yes, I know it's easy to manipulate digital images, but surely there must be some way to detect real images from altered?

And then there is the old chestnut about one third of all food is thrown away. Does that 'third' include, for example, vegetable and fruit peelings, and does that include what is composted by people at home?

Where can we see the original sources? So much 'research' is sponsored research these days, and cannot be trusted.

It's time that the websites of all news providers gave links to the original source of their 'stories'.

And it's time that a Delia Smith of numbers and statistics started doing some high-profile programmes across 'media platforms' to explain what statistics really mean. It's all very well Radio 4 doing occasional series of 'More or Less', but that's preaching to the converted, erm, I mean educated.

Profiteering

We noticed a huge variation in the price of diesel between here and Birmingham last week.

It's 122.9 pence per litre (£5.59 per gallon) here at present. The most expensive we saw was on the M1 (140.0 ppl = £6.37 per gallon). The cheapest I found was at Costco in Birmingham at 113.7ppp (£5.17 a gallon).

That is £1.20 per gallon difference between the cheapest and the most expensive: or well over £13 on the average tank full.

That's bad, but there is worse, at least for those of us who live in more rural areas that don't have a gas supply.

Here is a chart of the price of Brent crude over the past year (in dollars per barrel):

Here is a chart of the price of heating oil in England over the last year (in pence per litre):

They don't exactly match, do they?

I can't find a chart of the average weather temperature over the past year (cf previous years), but I strongly suspect that the heating oil price follows the weather (inversely) more than the wholesale oil price.

I've always rung around local suppliers for the best litre price when we need heating oil. I've written about my 'triumphs' on past occasions many times.

A few years ago, the advent of the 'Boiler Juice' made getting the best deal rather easier: "So, you're telling me that your best price is x, but Boiler Juice are currently giving me a price of x-y ppl. As I know that you often deliver to me when I order via Boiler Juice, surely you can do better than that, y'know, cut out the middle-man..."

The price of any oil product is, of course, affected by factors such as crude oil prices, rates of production (ie world levels of supply), processing and distribution costs, local demand, the strength of local currencies, and local taxation, but, the price of heating oil when it's colder is just profiteering, particularly as the larger suppliers order months ahead to fix their prices, and the smaller suppliers buy from the larger.

I always avoid cold spells to order oil, and will often fill the tank when prices are low in the summer. Return on cash savings in the bank is around 2%, inflation is around 3%, the value of our capital is therefore decreasing 1% per year, so I endeavour to only top up only when it's cheap and save maybe 10-15% overall.

I've been watching the price of heating oil since we came back from abroad a month ago. Often Boiler Juice haven't been able to quote a price (ie their contracted suppliers aren't interested in quoting), or it's been stupidly expensive (the worst 69.8 ppl+ 5% VAT, on a 2 week lead time). It's been hovering around 60 ppl +5% VAT for the past week.

Given that I paid 37.6 ppl (+5% VAT) last September, I am not about to pay over half as much again now. So, we've had the heating turned off (in a normal year it's only on from mid-November to the beginning of March anyway, and we do have 2 wood burners and an Aga that gives off background warmth) to save what oil we've got left.

A friend told me about a local-ish lady who got fed up with being ripped off by the big oil-supply companies and set up her own small local company to challenge them. She doesn't advertise, and relies on word-of-mouth. I spoke to her and placed an order a couple of days ago. At the time the BJ price was 62.0ppl. Hers was 46.1ppl. Given that she doesn't have economies of scale, one can only conclude that, aside of the weather, what keeps heating oil prices high is (a) shareholders, and (b) oil company cartel pricing.

And, for anyone who buys oil through BJ... I've noticed that now they can't make money from imposing excessive credit card charges (it used to be £5.95, but free if you paid by 'cash'), they are putting a £2.99 fee on every transaction, so that adds significantly to the litre price for everyone, even if you pay by debit card or bank transfer. So, if you want the best price (and who likes being ripped off?) it's now more important than ever to ring around your local suppliers when ordering.

If the price of gas or electricity varied unpredictably by 60% when it got cold there would be an outcry.

How much?

The vegetable wars are on again in the supermarkets.

This tray: 6 x 1.5kg King Edward mini-roasts (the new 'clever marketing' name for the little potatoes that most people would otherwise not buy), 3 x 500g parsnips, 1 x 500g shallots and 4 tins of chopped tomatoes was... guess how much? £10 maybe?

£3.26.

I thought that my 3 bags of potatoes or onions for £1 in Morrisons last weekend was good, but Lidl's outdid them.

Which is just as well as we seem to be in one of those 'things going wrong' phases.

Firstly, a couple of weeks ago, the HP all-in-one OfficeJet printer (well over 10, had done nearly 55,000 copies) died, then this morning the flush on the cloakroom toilet was found to be defective (it's old style, and will involve Mr BW taking the whole cistern off the wall to fix in the replacement part - and it's not that long since it was last replaced), and now the large larder fridge has ceased to function.

Just after I'd taken a shelf out to wash it, the inside light didn't come on again, and it stopped cooling. Mr BW did a post mortem and deemed it not easily fixed. The door seal had split in one place too, although that didn't seem to be affecting functioning.

It's 10 years and 3 days old, and was bought to replace the last one that also died at Easter. This time though, I didn't need to rush round the local white-goods selling places with my tape measure (it's a very unusual size space that it has to fit in), and then wait 5 days for it to be delivered. I simply sat at my computer, found the updated model (exactly the same dimensions) and put in my credit card details. It could have been delivered tomorrow, but that was £25, and we do have a small utility fridge that will take most of the contents for a couple of days. So it's going to be delivered on Sunday (yes, Easter Sunday, April 1st) for £10. It was free delivery from Wednesday onwards, but I decided that 5 days without a fridge was too much. And, the new one will (according to the scores on the doors) use £6 a year less of electricity than the current one, which is nearly the £10.

Then, the company I am buying from rang to confirm all the details and offered me a free removal/disposal of the old one - I'd said 'no' to the £20 to take it away during the online checkout. As I'm hoping the old shelves and door bins will fit the new model (if they don't, they will be good covers for use in the vegetable garden or polytunnel), they won't be getting those!

So, while I wait for the next malfunction, I shall drown my sorrows and start on the 30 litres of last autumn's deliciously dry cider that Mr BW has just bottled.

Mmmm, scrumpy. *I* may well be the next malfunction...

Last weekend, at the Classic Car Show,

Mr BW bought himself a new toy.

Or rather, two new toys, as one, I'm told, is needed to power the other.

He has lots and lots of toys already: some person-powered, some electricity powered, and some petrol powered. All very useful. But, he couldn't make another one of these (this is our new field gate - which has various edibles to grow over the top, to camouflage the anti-climb teeth; excuse the poor lighting, but it's only nearly April...) without some new items, as he made parts of this several years ago, before he set himself up with a home forge:

The first package arrived on Wednesday, after a delivery saga of endemic proportions (UK Mail - you might now be 'part of DHL' but you're still shit at delivering in a timely and credible manner around here), which followed a delivery saga involving similar lying by a Yodel operative the previous week (no point saying you've been and there was no-one in when we have CCTV and there is no card left as you claimed).

The second parcel was dispatched yesterday on a 3-5 day delivery (TNT) and I was happy as, discounting the bank holidays and weekend days, that would give me four more days in which he could only stroke the body of the new toy lovingly and dream of projects involving it.

Unfortunately for me, TNT have over-delivered, and the package has arrived next-day. They now join DPD as the only reliable delivery company around here. Mind you, DPD still have the best tracking process, and the politest and most helpful drivers, which may or may not be due to the fact that they operate as franchises, within defined geographical areas, rather than by employing people piecemeal on zero hours contracts, and sending them to a different area every day.

I expect to next see Mr BW sometime in June.

You can guess what the toys are if you like.

This is the size of the larger box (not sure if a cardboard pallet is greener than a wooden one, and definitely dislike the black plastic covering and the polystyrene interior packaging):

The other part of the system is in a similar box, with similar nasty polystyrene packaging, but only about half this size.

Are there fewer problems with delivery companies in other areas these days?

Are we just unlucky because we live a long way from most of the depots and the drivers can't be bothered to come out here if they have no other deliveries in this area as they only get 50p-£1 per parcel?

Plastics Part 3

We went up to the Midlands at the end of last week as Mr BW wanted to go to the Classic Car Show at the NEC.

Apart from being accosted by a policeman for sitting in my car in a muddy layby in the middle of nowhere, listening to the radio and sewing the binding (edging) onto my VLQ (Very Large Quilt - like the VLT - Very Large Telescope, but textiley rather than metally and spacey), I had a generally nice time doing not much while Mr BW spent lots of pennies to keep himself happy and occupied for the rest of the year.

And yes, after I'd pointed out that I was (Middle-Aged) 'Madam' and not (Young) 'Sir', I did ask the policeman for his warrant card, and yes I did make him look at my quilt, and no, he wasn't interested, and no I didn't ask him why he hadn't got proper work to do (although I wanted to), largely because I didn't want the hassle that would undoubtedly have ensued. But I was annoyed. Lesson to all: never sit in a layby minding your own business in the countryside near Birmingham.

On the way home, I was horrified at the amount of plastic litter by the sides of the A14 from where it joined the M6, and then along the M11 and A120 (although, to be fair to my Local Authority, there was less at the end). I have never seen litter like it - and I imagine it would take thousands of person-hours and thousands of litter sacks to pick it all up: money Local Authorities currently don't have. As many miles of these roads have no hard shoulder, it would also involve closing at least one carriageway, which would cause traffic chaos.

Last night the BBC News had a story on the huge amount of plastics currently in the Grand Union Canal - which, as it goes from London to Birmingham, rather mirrors what I noticed.

I noted that many laybys had either no bins, over-flowing bins, or open-sided bins (so gusts of wind blow items out of bins that are anywhere over half full), so I was unsuprised about the litter on the sides of the road. If Local Authorities are not providing adequate disposal facilities (back to the points I've been banging on about previously), people can't use them.

But, why is it that some people think it is OK to throw their litter onto the side of the road? Why don't they just leave it in their cars/vans/lorries (my money is on the latter two being the worst culprits) until they get to somewhere with a bin, or home?

I still challenge people who I see throwing litter out of vehicles, when I can, but, whereas years ago people mostly looked shamefaced at having been 'caught in the act', these days you invariably just get abuse.

What can be done?

More plastics

The latest proclamation that there is something 'wrong' with plastics, and that to be using them is a sin, is, as ever with these things, leading to some short-term profiteering by companies making 'substitutes' that are just a joke.

One of the Patchy Ladies delightedly told me last week that I could "make a fortune" if I started making and selling cling-wrap substitute out of recycled fabric soaked in beeswax. "It's the latest thing," she said, it's all over Facebook!"

I was cross that one of the other non-social-media members jumped in before I could with, "A great reason to avoid it then!"

"What's wrong," I replied, "with putting a plate over the glass bowl containing whatever it is you want to cover? I'm unconvinced that the Environmental Health Department would support the use of such re-usable products. The bacterial count scares me just to think about it, and I don't have meat products in my fridge..."

Sort out the unnecessary packaging used by many supermarkets and mail-order companies, sort out the recycling so that everything plastic can be kept out of landfill, and the 'plastics problem' would be solved.

The problem with plastics

"Why," proclaimed Old Friend BW, "did it take a 91 year old man to get the world to wake up to the problem with plastics?"

A good question, I thought, when he first said it, some time early this year.

I now realise that he was wrong.

There isn't a problem with plastics.

Or rather, not a problem with essential plastics, per se.

The problem is with the disposal of plastics, and the over-use (and unnecessary use) of plastics.

For more than 20 years, China has taken a lot of the world's recycling. It has been transported there in the empty container ships that have brought in the consumer goods that have largely destroyed our manufacturing industries. From 1st January 2018, China has not been accepting waste plastics from other countries: which, considering that, in 2016, it imported 7.3m tonnes of waste plastics from developed countries including the UK, the US, and Japan, is bound to make a difference.

Since 2012, British recycling companies have shipped more than 2.7m tonnes of plastic waste to China and Hong Kong: that is, 500,000 tonnes a year, according to recent data from Greenpeace.

In the UK, 13 million plastic bottles per day are thrown away (wherever 'away' is).

Has anyone thought that the problem of some of the plastics in the sea might be due to containers falling off ships during transportation to China, or due to China 'not being very careful' about how it stores, handles and disposes of plastic waste? And how have they been disposing of it anyway?

Plastic microbeads are invisible and easily banned (and probably quite easily replaced in products). Charging 5p per flimsy plastic shopping bag immediately changed shopping habits in this country, but, interestingly, not in South Africa, where there has been a charge since 2003: they have found that the effect was only short-term. 15 years on, we were the only people using our own bags in supermarkets during our recent trip, much to the amusement of other customers and cashiers. "Why you use that bag?" a cashier in a small supermarket asked me, as I waved away the plastic bags she was trying to hand me, and gestured to my cloth bags. "In the UK, they shoot us if we use plastic bags!" I said. It being South Africa, where the government is known for doing strange things, I think she believed me.

Now that China is not taking our plastic junk, how are we going to dispose of waste plastics in future?

Incinerating them is not the answer as incinerating plastic emits pollutants such as hydrogen chloride, dioxin and fine particulate matter; apparently, even when the chemicals are captured by industrial incinerators, there remains a risk to the environment and potentially human health.

Simon Ellin, Chief Executive of the UK Recycling Association, was on BBC Breakfast at the weekend, adding chaos to the 'what plastics can we recycle anyway?" confusion: he claimed that it was OK to recycle the film that comes on top of ready meals and plastic strawberry punnets. Our local councils seem to produce ever more leaflets (ie glossy paper then needing recycling) telling us not to. Meanwhile, I can remember such plastics being collected in Germany for recycling as long ago as the early 1990s.

As I said, at the beginning, the problem is not plastics per se, but rather the disposal of them.

Plastics can be very useful. Some items - for instances, syringe bodies - would be hard to make out of any other material. Yes, they used to be made out of glass and re-used, but glass is a hugely energy-inefficient product to produce, and recycle, and if put in landfill lasts indefinitely. Dairy products and drinks used to be sold in stoneware jars, but there are still thousands (millions) of them in existence (and oh so very 'vintage' these days, with price tags to match), and even more languishing in smashed pieces in ex-landfill sites and gardens.

What we need to be doing is finding better ways to deal with plastics at the end of their useful life, never throwing away something plastic that can be re-used (you should see my store, I'm already stock-piling just in case), and making much more of a fuss about plastic over-packaging by supermarkets and other retailers (complaining in person, in writing, and by not buying).

Oh - and - kudos to Ribena who now manufacture their own plastic bottles on-site in Gloucestershire, from plastic waste, as recently shown on Inside the Factory.

The 'plastics' issue is fast turning into the latest version of the 'diesel cars' issue: everyone agrees with the media that they are 'bad' and to be 'avoided' and 'got rid of' at all costs, and as soon as possible, without really thinking things through.

As ever, the consumer is being made to feel guilty for the path the manufacturers have taken, and the lack of forward planning by those responsible for waste disposal.

Saturday question

How can it have been sunny and 18.9°C yesterday afternoon, and it's -2°C and snowing this morning?

A lifetime of thoughts for the day

"Look up at the stars and not down at your feet.
Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist.
Be curious."

- Professor Stephen Hawking

May your light shine on.

Back

The trouble with blogging is that if you get a bit behind, then it's hard to catch up, or to know how to restart. The more time goes by, the harder it gets. I guess it's a bit like everything that slips, the only way to deal with it is just to start somewhere and get on with it.

So here we go...

It's now 8 days since we got back.

Despite the media's attempts to tell the world that the UK was closed due to a bit of snow that was predicted more than a week before it happened, our plane left on time and arrived on time, and the 'fasten seatbelts' sign didn't go on once, as there was no turbulence anywhere (unheard of on a 12 hour flight from south to north).

The Moon was full, and was rising above the clouds below the plane as darkness fell. I have never had a more surreal experience in a plane than the 2 hours I spent watching the bright moonlight dancing off the clouds, in the otherwise darkness. Truly a memorable end to a memorable holiday.

Despite it being 5am when we landed, our taxi driver was waiting in arrivals to pick us up, and despite our media-fuelled fears, the roads (M25/M11/A120), were completely clear right up to the point we got off the dual carriageway to wend out way through the villages and hamlets to home. The roads had (for once) been well salted and gritted, and were clear apart from a few drifts of powdery snow off the open fields, where there were open fields.

There was a 32 degree C difference between the temperature when we got on the plane (30°C) and the temperature when we got off the plane (-2°C). That was a bit of a shock, but the excellent insulation in our house meant that it was warm and cosy, despite the heating and the Aga being turned right down (rather than off, in case of Arctic Conditions) while we were away.

This is the sight that met our return:

But, all was melted by Sunday night.

We've never been away for a whole month before. It is highly recommended.
Some statistics:

Photos taken: 2552 (that's almost 16GB worth)

Distance travelled in hire car: 3,462 km (2,151 miles - actually not as far as I thought it would be but, added to the 12,000+ miles by plane, that's quite a lot of lettuce seeds - not trees, lettuce seeds, they are more environmentally and nutritionally useful and carbon neutral in the long term - we'll need to plant this year)

Number of places we stayed: 7 (3 in annexes to people's large homes/gardens) and 4 in small cottages on farms (one blueberry; one stone fruit and grapes; one dairy and cheese; one ostrich, sheep, and seed))

Number of days we did absolutely nothing but enjoy the weather and our surroundings, and swim, eat, drink and read (him) or embroider/crochet (cotton string shopping bags in case you want to know): quite a few

Number of meals out eaten: 5 (plus 8 breakfasts that were included) - we prefer to buy local food from local producers, often from the many farm stalls along the roads, or from local markets, and cook it ourselves, often in local style.

Number of bottles of wine drunk: errrr... I do know the answer to this but I'm scared of data miners and Big Data and its future uses. And what you might think ;)

Number of bottles of excellent wine brought home: 16 (which is the allowance for two people, provided you don't buy any duty free alcohol)

A friend said to me earlier in the week, "But how did you survive a month with just one person?"
My reply was, "You just need to pick the right person!"

I hate packing. Mr BW is an expert packer, having both excellent spatial skills and a professional lifetime's experience of global business travel and all its incumbent packing. All I do is pile it up and he somehow packs it all away and makes sure we are within weight restrictions, regardless of what we have bought to take home along the way. If anyone ever asks me for advice on what makes a good relationship, I shall definitely include the ability of your partner to pack well for travelling, and not require you to be involved in the process.

I didn't want to come home, but I had to because:

• The webbed foot swimming pool cleaners have now evolved to have wheels, and, knowing that they could now potentially escape their watery confines, my dreams (see below) were getting worse:

  
  

• My hair (cut really short the morning of the day we left at the end of January) had grown so quickly that I resembled an Old English sheep dog, and was tempted to cut it myself, but too scared, so needed Hairdresser BW's ministrations.

• Erm... no there were no other reasons. In retrospect, I do really wonder why I bothered to come home at all.
  

Despite being away a month, absolutely nothing had changed at home.

The snowdrops that were out when we left were still out at exactly the same stage:

As was the news.

The pile of paper mail was 24cm high. That doesn't sound much until you think that a letter is just a few mm thick and there weren't many seed catalogues. It took me 3 hours to just open it, and 3 days to get on top of everything. And there is still some filing to do. That really is the only negative thing (noting that Mr BW does the ironing, of course).

Oh - if you ever wonder what a dish of tomatoes looks like after it has been in the top Aga oven for over a month, well, wonder no more:

Totally weightless, but still in its original formation, until touched. It took 2 days of soaking in biological washing powder to get the ceramic dish clean.

In the next post I will tell you why the current media frenzy about plastics is just plain WRONG.

It is not possible to come home

Mr BW says we can't email the taxi man and ask him to bring blankets.

Is it as bad as the forecasts predict?

The last time it was this cold in February was the year we put the polytunnel up - so, 2012. That year it was May before things warmed up.

Perhaps we should stay:

*wonders whether 3 days are enough to reverse the spell*

Day 22 and 23: SA 2018

I have two NASA alerts set for the International Space Station: one for home and one for SA.

We've never managed to see it here until last night, when the sky was crystal clear again as the cloudy weather has moved away and we're back up to the usual mid-30s temperatures for these parts at this time of year. This is the same view as those below, in sun mode:

A quick bit of thinking about where the sun rose and set, allowed me to calculate NNW, and the ISS did a full height 7 minute pass. I will never tire of seeing it wend its way across the dark sky.

When the Moon (now at nearly a quarter) went to bed (before 11pm, it seems to have got a bit confused about its waking up and bed times of late), we were able to see the Milky Way and Magellanic Clouds again (many thanks to Debster for the identification).

We drove this spectacular mountain pass again. It's been a couple of years since we last did it, and the gravel road hasn't got any better. Nor has the speed at which some tourists insist on driving it. No stopping, no getting out, no pausing to take in the enormity of it. Just another tick off their tourist itinerary list.

It's amazing to think that this pass was inititally carved out in 1888.

Up the top there are no safety barriers and the drops down are very very long:

It's only when you get back down to ground level that there are some small attempts at edges:

Day 20 and 21: SA 2018

This is the most scary non-human thing I have encountered over here. Every pool seems to have one, and they certainly have a life of their own. I fully expect to have a nightmare about one chasing me around in a pool, looping around my neck, and strangling me to death:

This is one of the two farm cats who seem to think they own us. She's supervising Mr BW making next year's booking. You have to know the right time to book to get the best deal on prices:

In the roof of our porch there is a swallow nest (not exactly the same as the ones seen in the UK), and the pair of swallows have been extremely useful in hoovering up the insects before they get to us.

The eggs started hatching on Tuesday:

Since then we have been dive bombed every morning when we have opened the top of our front door. They fly at us, nearly as close as bats, but I fear their ability to miss us may not be as good.

It's like The Birds I tell you! If we both go out together, they leave us alone, and after an hour or so they give up and get back to insect catching to feed their young.

Our house (the old farm school) is the light coloured speck just right of centre:

As you can see, the farm really is in the middle of nowhere, and 16 miles from the nearest settlement, and 30-odd miles from a town. Despite this, when our electric kettle stopped functioning at lunchtime, we had a new one, relayed along a line of neighbours from a shop in the town, by 4.30pm. That's resourcefulness for you.

Fact for the day: (from the farmer's mouth) an ostrich takes 12 months to get from egg (42 day gestation period) to eating size (93kg+). Females are sexually mature at 2 years old and males at 3 years old. A pair of ostriches will guard around 100 baby ostriches in a field to keep them safe from predators.

Day 18 and 19: SA 2018

Dearie dearie me. It seems to be raining everywhere we go, even in the middle of nowhere - that is, currently, the dusty far edge of the Klein Karoo (now our third visit to this tranquil spot).

It's warm rain mind, but extremely loud thunder and exceedingly bright lightning. Scary when all the other noises around are bird noises. This view is from our front porch:

Magnificent thunderstorm yesterday afternoon... you see, I felt sorry for the farmer, who told us he'd only had 80mm of rain in the last 12 months, and most of that in 2 sessions of around 25 mm a time. You can't raise ostriches and sheep (most of whom look more like goats, but we are assured they are sheep) and grow seed for Europe with no rain.

This is almost the same view as above, an hour or so later. The light here is sensational. Every hour the view changes.

So much for 47°C last time. But, 25 to 30°C is really more pleasant, even though there is a glorious 40 foot diameter, 4' 6" deep swimming pool (the - very - old concrete water store for the farm, repurposed).

When it rains, the water droplets plop into the pool and then reappear, a few seconds later, as bubbles.

With no Moon at the moment, the night sky up here, where there is no light pollution at all, is even more wonderful than normal. There are so many stars visible that it is very hard to find constellations other than Orion, who always makes me laugh (as I've said before) as he is upside down here (it being the southern hemisphere).

Not only can we see the Milky Way, but also a second similar Milky Band, and a similar Milky Patch (no idea what they are, except stars - does anyone know? (CBATG)). We've only seen it the first night so far, as it's been too cloudy on the two nights since. But, we still have 3 more nights here, so hopefully clear skies will resume before we leave. If not, there's always next year.

South Africans seem very happy that Zuma is a thing of the past, and, reading the SONA text from Friday night, I can't say I disagree with them. Our Queen's Speech and annual government budget speech are not a patch on SONAs.

Days 15 - 17: SA 2018

We've moved on again. We've been in Wilderness, down on the south coast, for a couple of days. Actually as a stop-over to enable us to be in Sedgefield for the wonderful food and craft Saturday market.

This time we've been staying in a converted garage, at a house with a delightful huge garden (almost 'rain forest' in parts, although there shouldn't be rain forest here), and wonderful view over the mountains, and a cool swimming pool many metres down below:

The elderly lady owner delighted in telling me, yesterday morning as we went for a qick dip to start the day, that we had just missed her swimming in the nude. Fortunately, with a lifetime's experience of children telling me much more than I ever wanted to know, I just smiled and said, "Oh, glad it's not just me who does that when there's no-one around!"

We found an 'art exhibiton' in the large 'hotel'. The best thing was a cushion that wasn't actually part of the display. An interesting way of joining small pieces of furnishing fabric, the opposite way to normal, then pulling out the side threads.

Given the out-of-focus-ness of this picture, I think we must have partaken of too many wine tastings:

I was glad that Mr BW persuaded me to overlook the mis-spelling:

and try the pizza:

The best gluten-free pizza that I have ever had, anywhere. Pesto on the base, spinach, seeds, feta, chilli, pine nuts. Delicious.

We went up another gravel road to see a special place we enjoyed last time we were here in 2012 - Map of Africa:

I was dismayed to note the new luxury houses that had been built (LHS) since our last visit. Nothing is sacred anywhere it seems. Developers greedily consume what should never be for sale.

Luckily the beach has not yet been built upon; yet:

The weather here is rather more overcast and cool (low 20s) late afternoon than normal, and it has rained during the night for the past two nights. Time to get some provisions from the local market and head north to the Karoo. It was 47°C there last year.

Days 12 - 15: SA 2018

Staying just outside Robertson, the third largest wine-producing area in SA. We've been through here many times, but never stayed, until now.

There is less of a water shortage here, but it is still much less green than we've seen it in the past, and any crops/vines not being irrigated are just not thriving.

There is a recent huge increase in 'things' for tourists to do, and many more places for eating and drinking. Not what we like doing really, so it just pushes us more off the tourist trail and up more gravel roads.

But we still like the 'farm stalls' - producers' outlets, with rather more authenticity than in the UK. Here we are having a sit down before buying a new broom:

And here is another that speciaises in pumpkins. They also do amazing pickled onions with chilli, a jar of which we have already demolished.

We counted 101 bats in 20 minutes coming out of the roof of the far end of the building we are staying in (picture below). That was the evening after the evening of the biggest thunderstorm we have ever seen outside of the Tropics. Quite scary actually. I was tempted to go and sleep in the car (it being a Faraday cage) rather than in a metal-roofed building.

This was the garden, during the storm:

38mm of rain fell in four hours as the storm wandered up, down and around the mountains. The power went off 5 times, according to our host who seemed to like counting things, and drawing maps for us with directions to the best local vineyards and gardens:



On our way out, down the long and gravel road, one morning, we found first a dead tortoise (which I refused to let Mr BW 'collect'), then two tortoises fighting.

The big one had flipped the smaller one on his back and was biting him viciously.

Mr BW righted the smaller one and moved him a few yards off the road, but the big one then came over and overturned him again before running off. Tortoise bullying. A whole new experience to add to our travel stories.

We then went to the local museum. The original old museum had fallen down, so the objets had been moved into a 70s portacabin in the grounds. It was very surreal. But with some beautiful several hundred year old patchwork, probably made out of worn-out garments cut up and stitched back together. One of the quilts was made of hexagaons the size of 10p pieces:

Later, we found a fantastic pottery in the middle of nowhere. I could have bought a lot of his work:

Much of the work was wood-fired, with a firing of his largest (of 4) kilns taking 5 tonnes of wood.

We liked this quote on the wall, which perfectly sums up the artist's lot:

There are many, many 'old' cars out here. We're told that there is no annual MOT test (apart from HGVs and PSVs).

Mr BW is making it his holiday's work to photograph the 'best' of these (hoping they will appear in some classic car mag I think), which is involving rather too many emergency stops and unexpected u-turns. This one (which had flat tyres) made me laugh, but only because of the (no doubt unconnected) sign on the wall. I don't think one needs to be a polyglot to get the gist:

Day 11: SA 2018

Like days 9 and 10 really.

Without spiders, and with fewer tortoise sightings, but with just as much doing nothing, wine and yummy local produce.

We both failed miserably in the 'know your wine' blind rosé tasting competition that we held between our three favourite pinks. I knew there was an after-use for those silly sleep mask thingys you get on planes.

Still mid-30s by day and mid 20s by night. And this isn't even the hottest bit: that's still a week away.

Day 10: SA 2018

Host 1, south of Cape Town, asked us for some English rain. It had to wait until we left, but the delay on the spell worked well, and she emailed to say that they had nearly 1cm overnight on Friday/Saturday, and it was soft and persistent, so excellent for gardens. I aim to please. Every happy clappy church pastor is claiming the downfall for himself, but I know the truth, and I do my good works for free.

Oh, and, Capetonians, I've found where there is a supermarket that still has plenty of 5 litre containers of water. I'm not telling you where it is though, because some of you would be daft/greedy enough to drive the 200kms to get some to add to your stockpile.

On the subject of drought, Z spotted a letter in The Times last week, and kindly sent it over via carrier D'Ove. Just like the electricity crisis of 2 years ago, the current dire water situation was predicted but the ruling Party did nothing about it:

One of the things we like best about holidays is buying produce from little roadside stalls and markets.

In the middle of this surreptitiously taken picture is the watermelon:

That later became watermelon and feta salad (something I saw on a menu somewhere and fancied trying out):

It had lots of black pepper and a fig vinagerette dressing that we bought in a vineyard somewhere else, but that was lots too sweet (to our taste), although the dish was still delicious. I think a bit of finely chopped chilli, with lemon juice and olive oil would be better next time.

Talking of condiments, I could not resist buying a tub of mustard when I saw some in a supermarket. It is plastic, and has a 'sprinkle' side as well as a 'pour' side. It will be added to my collection of various sorts and sizes from over the years. Surprisingly, it is produced in RSA, cheaper than in the UK, but less hot.

We watched an episode of 'Inside the Factory' recently, in which they looked at mayonnaise and how it differs from country to country. The best-selling local variety here had 17 different e numbers, so I bought Hellmann's. While ostensibly having the same ingredients as at home, it was a totally different colour, and a 'whipped' consistency:

A knife in our current thatched cottage made me smile, and wonder about who had purloined it and why:

Mr BW spent the day tortoise torturing:

Well, he'd probably call it studying tortoises (in the interests of future wood carving projects), but the tortoise didn't look too impressed by all the photography of all sides and all orifices.

And finally, dinner, on our patio, under the stars, by the mountains. Complete with almost-finished BW blue string bag.

Day 9: SA 2018

Because we stay in out of the way places, often on farms (which, unlike in the UK, are lots cheaper than accommodation in towns - our present 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom, huge well-equipped kitchen, thatched cottage, with lavender and rose edged huge garden, and pool costs £36 per night - less than a Travelodge), there are often bees:

This time for pollinating blueberries (much greener and healthier than the ones we attempt to grow at home):

Because of the long gravel road, and the heat,

And the long gravel road, and the heat:

We haven't felt the need to explore this new area every day - although we shall return next year - and have been doing lots of swimming, relaxing in the shade, and doing not very much except eating and drinking and enjoying the peace and scenery, and marvelling at the person who restored this place (a writer, 3 owners ago, we have deduced from old books lying around the place), planting the trees exactly where shade is needed, and positioning the spring water pool perfectly for both sun and view.

We made a delicious dinner with the hake we bought in the local fishing town: flash fried in butter, with capers, lemon juice and black pepper added before popping on a lid for a couple of minutes. It was better than any restaurant offering (not that there is a restaurant nearby):

And in the evening 4 bats came out to play (too zippy for a picture), and a spider (of unknown type and venomosity) was found dead on the kitchen floor next morning. I called it 'prawn spider'.

With apologies to arachnophobes.

Day 8: SA 2018

Several South Africans that we'd encountered on our travels had asked us to pray for a good outcome to the State of the Nation Address (SONA) that was due to take place on 8th. We didn't like to disenchant them with our ideas about the efficacy of prayer in such a situation, but a spell or two managed to postpone the eventuality, while not affecting the delivery of the budget speech on February 21 (budgets/prudent annual spending are very important to the future of South Africa after all).

Given the unrest and protests in Cape Town 2 years ago (when a protestor was stabbed in front of us, just outside a museum, when we were unwittingly there on SONA day), I think that the Chair of the National Council of Provinces, Thandi Modise, was not wrong when he said, "... there is little likelihood of an uneventful joint sitting of Parliament this coming Thursday."

As it says in the linked article, "The new date for SONA is now very much dependent on the outcome of ANC president and South Africa's deputy president Cyril Ramaphosa's discussions with President Jacob Zuma about what is termed the "transition", otherwise known as Zuma's resignation."

We all live in interesting times.

Apparently they have been expecting me:

The nearest place to here is Velddrif, which isn't very near here at all, but it does have a quirky fishing museum:

It was curated somewhere around ten years ago by someone with an interest in model ships and a new laminator. We love SA's museums: they are unfailingly interesting, and the focus is always on objets (which delight) and social history (which fascinates):

We took a peek at the fishing port, but there wasn't much to see. The whole area here is very sparsely populated (and so perfect for us):

We then tried to go to see the Paternoster lighthouse, in the middle of a nature reserve, but missed it as it opens from 8am to 3pm and it was 3.15pm. This was the best shot I could get:

But, down on the nearby beach, Mr BW found me a substitute glass lighthouse, which just qualified for my collection of sea glass (ie no edges still sharp enough to cut):

I also found some tortoise shells (hold on to this idea, it will become important in a couple of days):

On the way back to our blueberry farm, through miles and miles and miles of mostly flat and arid countryside, I spied a new wind farm on the horizon (actually, we flew in over this last week, but I missed getting a picture, so I was pleased to see it in person):

Two years ago there was an electricity supply crisis, with a rolling daily programme of power cuts across the Cape, and, finally, they are getting on top of that - rather than burning diesel to make electricity, there is an increasing incidence of PV panels on roofs, and wind farms in suitable areas.

In the evening, Mr BW decided to put on one of the programmes he had downloaded to his laptop. This was something I studied for A Level English, but hadn't re-read or re-heard since. I knew as soon as he told me what it was that he wasn't going to like it. But, it was oh so appropriate for today.

Day 7: SA 2018

It's hard to believe that it's a week since we got on that plane. We have been so busy, and it is incredibly hot, even by usual SA standards.

The second spooky coincidence of the trip: the owner of this 1831 reed-thatched cob and stone built cottage (smells divine, more divine as the day goes on and it heats up) in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a blueberry farm surrounded by rocky hill/mountains, 9km down what South Africans call a 'gravel track' - but I call a dust track with added boulders to test your driving skills (don't worry, we always buy excess damage cover in the UK for £30 to cover all hire cars one hires in a year, rather than pay the hundreds that they want out here for extra cover-all insurance) - moved here 7 months ago from the last area we stayed: and she knows our friend the owner of our first stop (and her daughter worked at the school where first owner's husband is the Principal).

The owners here have even provided me with a cauldron:

I don't know what this is for, but we have seen them before by old ranges in old homesteads.

We have been far too busy for the first six days, so today we did nothing except swim in the pool, drink beer, drink wine, sit in the shade and read a book (him) and start some black/redwork-type embroidery (me) (with blue thread, naturally). My Patchy Ladies are really into this at present, and, needing something to do on holiday, I cannibalised some of their books of designs (the less cutesy ones as I'm not keen on hearts or lettering), and added a few bits of my own, to make something fitting to us:

I think the thread I am using is really a bit thick, but it will have to do as it is all I have, and we are 40 miles from the nearest shop, and I just know it won't sell embroidery cotton.

The pool, although small, is perfect: set amongst citrus trees, with mini-mountains on every horizon, you can smell orange blossom as you swim rather than the usual chlorine. It is totally silent, apart from the (many) birds.

Despite near-desert conditions all around, there is plenty of water (enough to water the plants and water blueberries in net tunnels) so I'm OK for a bath and clothes wash now. Thankfully.

Day 6: SA 2018

We were sad to leave our first base, south of Cape Town, as we are now, 5 visits there on, firm friends with the owner, who shares our interests. Her garden (one acre) was still lovely, as her friends without gardens are saving their greywater for her to use on the garden. She gets more excited about every delivery of used shower water than she ever would if you gave her any other present. I feel the same way about my friends who give us jars, boxes and egg boxes to re-use.

This is breakfast in the garden:

I can't say that I was sad to leave the gallon cans behind though. In case of doubt, the label says, "Rainwater/greywater to top up the cistern." Any water from the shower or bath is caught at the bottom and the maid fills up the containers and brings it back up again for its second usage.The water then goes to the septic tank, and then out of the spreader drains underground into the garden.

A new fruit out here this year is 'nectacot' - as you'd expect, a cross between a nectarine and an apricot. Divine.

Coming to a Waitrose near you soon, no doubt.

On our way 2 hours northwards to our next stop (an area we haven't explored before, near Citrusdal), we noticed an area of green among the desert-like landscape. Turned out it was an organic vineyard. Which wasn't as lovely as it sounds. It's very very rare to find a naff vineyard; in fact, in six trips, this is the first. The only thing even vaguely to our palate was the cheapest wine they had - a 40 rand (£2.35) a bottle white. Definitely not coming to a Waitrose near you soon.

Did I read somewhere that it's snowing at home?

Day 5: SA 2018

We were tasting wine in our second favourite small vineyard in Franschhoek today, chatting to the owner, who we have known since our first trip out here in 2012. He told us that sadly, the South African wine production this year was likely to be just half what it usually is, because drought equals low grape juice yield.

Franschhoek is always ahead of other areas in starting picking due to its climate (it was 39°C there today: blisteringly hot, with no breeze). He said he had picked two blocks of different varieties in the last week and one was only a third of the normal quantity and the other was under a half. For small vineyards, for whom grapes are their passion and their livelihood, this sort of bad year can put them out of business, whereas the rich vineyard owners (the majority - many of whom just play at winemaking) just throw more money at the problem.

"Where are you going next?" he asked. We reeled off our next couple of stops, and he said that we'd be hot. "Not as hot as the farm near De Rust where they grow seed and raise ostriches!" we said, and recounted the story of our first year there, in the old homestead, with no air conditioning, and how we'd had to fill the hot water bottles with cold water and put them in the freezer to keep us cool in the night. "But, this year," we said, "we'll be OK because we're in the old schoolhouse which has air con."

At the mention of 'old schoolhouse' he looked pensive, then asked the name of the people.

Not only did he know them, but he goes cycling all over the world with our farmer and a couple of other friends. Last year, while in the swimming pool (actually the old concrete water dam) with our farmer, he'd told us all about a cycling trip to Northern Spain that he'd made where he'd given the other team members all ostrich feathers from his farm to wear in their hats. Lo and behold... our winemaker had a picture on his phone of them all together, on their bicylces, complete with feathery hats.

The vineyard and the seed farm are 500km apart. The only thing connecting them, as far as we were concerned, was that we had visited them both several times because we like how they think, how they approach life, how they treat their workers, and the way they do business.

How strange that, firstly we should happen to mention where we were going, secondly that he recognised the place from our description, and thirdly that they should all be good friends.

Sometimes the world is scarily small.

And sometimes the internet is too slow to upload pictures. Drat.

Day 4: SA 2018

Scarborough Beach:

[insert picture of fabulous white sand, turquoise water, wavy waves, when the internet allows]

Favourite Restaurant (Michelin star quality, 6 courses, with a bottle of wine for £30 a head):

[insert pictures of fabulous plates of delicious cuisine, when the internet allows]




It's usually mid 20s when we are in this part, near Cape Town, which is why we come here first to acclimatise. This year, though, it is closer to 30° every day, with much less cooling breeze straight off the sea. I don't usually approve of wet wipes (far too environmentally unfriendly), but, given the water restrictions, I'm glad I brought lots out... they're a life-saver. Perhaps I'll have to start keeping them in the fridge.

Day 3: SA 2018

Hermanus is two hours by car from Cape Town. We like Hermanus Market, which is a gorgeous craft and food market, full of real producer-makers, held every Saturday morning at the cricket ground, from 8am. We're not going to be anywhere nearer to Hermanus on a Saturday this year, and so it was that we found ourselves in the car shortly after 7am, despite having had two busy days.

On the N2, we saw a truck with a dead body balanced on the tailgate:

Then, just as I was taking this picture, the body moved. Ahhhh...

Almost the first thing I saw when we got there was the local version of what we have been fighting at home for the past two years. I got chatting to the people. "What is causing this here?" I enquired. "Over-population, greed, and a lack of understanding of the countryside by city types!" came the reply. "Are you a mind-reader?" I asked. It seems destruction of the environment is an endemic problem.

This one is to remind me to string up some of those long dangly things with holey stones and shells from a previous trip, when we get home:

All the fresh veg are locally grown:

Having banned Mr BW's Hand from the house (I think it now lives with the cats in the workshop), I am now haunted by carved hands.

This one is to remind me to use bicycle wheels in creative ways (I need to source some first, but I'm sure that an APB to my various crafty group ladies will work a treat - quite a few grandchildren might not have wheels on their bikes, thereafter, but my need is greater than theirs...):

A few miles east of Hermanus is Stanford, a quaint olde-worlde charming, not too touristy, village. We managed to locate a place to stay here for next year. Every year we stay in roughly half revisited and half new places, and because we are very fussy, we like to research a year ahead, in person, rather than online, because online can be so deceptive.

We didn't go in the internet cafe, but its wooden signs (there's probably a by-law) amused me.

The temperature is well over 30°C, but with a cooling breeze off the sea most of the time.

Day 2: SA 2018

This year's visit to my favouritest garden in the world:








The flowers are wonderful, the wine is wonderful, the weather is wonderful, 50 litres of water a day is a challenge (but doable, and quite fun, in the short-term, providing one reuses grey water for - occasional - toilet flushing), if only technology wasn't giving me grief, and slowing down and frustrating my efforts, all would be well in Witchy World.

Day 1: SA 2018

Ah, I've missed you so much my Table:

It was worth the 6,500 mile journey.

Bright blue skies, 23 degrees at 9 o'clock in the morning, and a reassuringly small number of kilometres on the hire car (and some quite nice numbers). Time to change all that...

Despite the recent appearance of snowdrops, I've had enough of English winter and English politics (national and local)

So, we're off to check that Noluthando and Kate aren't killing each other.

Plus, in order to restock my Witchy Powers, I need to be flying at the time of the super blue blood moon, as my own besum is currently muchly battered from over-use.

There will be updates, internet permitting (which sometimes it won't).

There won't be much water though (50 litres per day per person, for everything; what fun): "Climate change and massive growth in population have been blamed for the water crisis," - it'll happen here (at least in the south/east) within the next 50 years, for all the same reasons, you mark my words.

Double Trouble

These two white lumps really scare me.

They sit on top of the external boiler (situated outside our bedroom window) every morning and stare in at us menacingly.

They refuse to wear collars: I don't know how many they have lost between them, but it's many.

I can't tell which is which just by looking (I used to rely on collar colour), and they are only distinguishable because one makes annoying cat noises when she is near you and the other doesn't.

They eat and eat and eat. No other cats we've had have ever eaten the way they do. Or been as fat. Their mother was tiny and petite. Their father was a gigantic bully. Who says genes don't count?

I dread to think what these two sisters are plotting...