Blue Witch

I like post boxes.

The current FOTCR™ stamps are causing me problems.

Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?

Oh Pete, why have you forsaken us at just 63?

That's another bit of my punk youth years gone; but, "But after all life's only death's recompense," and, "Things in life are not played for keeps, If it makes you happy it'll make you weep."

RIP and thank you for the music, and the brilliant lyrics, Pete.

Special film for a special day

103 year old film of Monet, Renoir, Rodin and Degas, including Monet painting in his garden at Giverney in 1915.

It's the small things...

... 6.12.18.

Mantra for the future

The Solar Panel Project of late October meant emptying a lot of the limited eaves storage spaces - all we have left of 'loft space' following the 2006 conversion of the old huge loft into The Studio.

A lot more piles of boxes have joined the clutter in The Inner Coven. I am slowly (very slowly) ((very, very slowly)) going through them, piece by piece, shredding, sorting, discarding and refiling.

Amongst the clutter I have rediscovered lots of memories (good and bad) and lots of realisation that I have spent a lot of time, over the years, on things, and people, that have not brought me pleasure in the long term. I have definitely given much more than I have received, in many situations and relationships.

One of my overarching beliefs is that life is a pot, and you should put into it what you can, when you can, selflessly, in the hope that there might be a bit there for you, from somewhere, to take back out when you need it. Time and time again I have been disappointed, and have realised that most people, in most situations, just don't play by those rules.

I've tried to be less giving, but it is hard; if there is someone in need, or a cause needing a bit of direct action, I will always offer if I have the skills to do so.

But I've finally realised the futility in my approach. It's not making me happy.

So, in future I am going to apply one test to something: if I knew for sure that I only had one year to live, would I carry on doing that thing?

If not, then why I am doing it when I don't know that I do even have one year left?

I think that I shall be letting go of more things, groups, people, in the next few weeks and months.

Countdown to the FOTCR™

I continue to despair at the ever worsening levels of customer service (dis-service), and the ever-increasing levels of non-acceptance of responsibility, and avoidance of apologising (at all and every cost) if one dares to complain.

Even the Tooth Fairy, who refills recycled advent calendars in her spare time, no longer supplies and fills.

This year I got a text message instructing me to get the required chocolates and await her visit yesterday, or Mr BW would not be served.

She arrived, over an hour late, with no apology, and stood over me with a stop-watch while I opened packets and filled the empty pockets.

"Rather slow!" she chastised, before disappearing in a flash of tinsel.

You just couldn't make this stuff up.

Worrying

I was at the opticians earlier this week, and overheard a conversation between an 82 year old man and a young male assistant.

I worked out that he was 82 as he was asked his date of birth. I also know the first line of his address and his phone number. I'm sure that, in this day and age, there are data protection issues in such matters being discussed in such an open environment. But, that was not what concerned me.

YMA: So Mr L[rest of name redacted], do you not even wear glasses for driving?

82YO: No, no point, don't get on with glasses.

YMA: You do realise that you cannot meet the minimum vision standard for driving without glasses? I'll need you to sign this form to say that you have been advised of this, and have declined. It's just for our records, we don't do anything with it.

82YO: It's my choice. [signed form].

Now, if a doctor advises you not to drive, and believes you still are, and are a potential danger to others, they have a duty to notify DVLA, so why don't opticians, in these circumstances?

Happy Samhain

I have a full complement this year (although my desiccated spider has vanished from where I left it, I still have a frog, a mouse and a late season Amazonka, growing on the balcony), and I made 8kWh of power today (although I think it hasn't been wired in correctly as there are some odd things happening according to our portal).

So, watch out if you have annoyed me recently (although, please be reassured that no-one reading here need be worried).

The words 'customer disservice in supermarkets' spring to mind... I've thought up a new slogan... "X supermarket, where customers are always wrong." And 'Evil Relatives' (not ours) with pound signs for eyes. What is the matter with people these days?

The light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming train

We were given our first FOTCR™ card on Saturday. "We're away from the middle of December, and we need to get ahead of ourselves," we were told. FFS. I think I might put 2019s in the envelope with 2018s to them.

As we expected (but they clearly didn't), the installers didn't get finished on Friday. We know this house, after nearly 24 years here, and it is very very quirky. And very very well built, extended, and extended again. The five sets of panels are all up (yes, it's very multi-directional), but there is a lot of tidying and cleaning needing doing, and there are still all the electrical connections to do. And, they don't know it yet, but they have messed up the electrics on another system that they will be putting right.

Given that they come from nearly 350 miles away, we thought they'd stay on and finish it off on Saturday. But, oh no, one of them had to get home to play rugby on Saturday (yes, really!!!), so they're coming back today. Apparently, although they are now already 10 minutes later than even their worst-case arrival time... and the scaffolders are coming this afternoon to dismantle, and, now being back on GMT, it will be dark soon.

To be honest, I am more than a little bit fed up. Although they've only been here 2 days, getting everything ready, and scaffolding last Tuesday means that we've endured 10 days of chaos already.

Had they finished on Friday, as they were supposed to, we'd have had everything back where it went by now, and Mr BW could have had a restful birthday today. And there is a lot of stuff to go back in the cupboards, wardrobes, and dormer voids, even after I have decluttered 2 large wheelie bin's worth already. How is it that my professional association says I have to keep closed files until those they concern reach 35, but information in medical files can be shredded willy nilly?

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Full Hunter's Moon setting at 7am this morning:

It was the coldest night of the autumn so far - down to about 5°C. And Orion (my favourite constellation) was beautiful at 4am.

I love it when a plan comes together. Some people plant at full moon, we install at full moon.

Coincidentally, today DG's busy writing about catastrophes that might beset the country, and we're busy future proofing ourselves against all eventualities (high impact / medium likelihood, and high impact / high risk).

7.5kWh of panels and 6.5kWh of battery. Together with a way of running the whole lot at normal power when the Ruskies turn off the power switch. Just how much would people pay us to charge their phones/cars/drones/dialysis machines/etc etc, I wonder? *rubs hands in gleeful anticipation*

Now I shall be able to play with the glass kiln to my little Witchy heart's content, for free, and perhaps get a pottery kiln too.

We seriously looked at putting in a system in 2006, when we had the extension done (how can that be over 12 years ago?), but, we felt, the technology then wasn't up to our needs, and the cost was crazy, so we ended up with solar thermal (for water heating) that Mr BW sourced and installed with a bit of help from the plumber we had onsite anyway.

Now, the technology to output energy to price ratios on PV are somewhere between 8 and 10 times better. And we will still get a little bit of feed-in payment for 20 years (but that is disappearing at the end of March 2019).

Given that our electricity has already gone up 17.6% this year (despite changing to the cheapest supplier twice), we're predicted a 9%+ ROI per year. Better than the pathetic (less than inflation) 2% the banks are offering currently. But, it's really more about feeling better about living more lightly, and keeping the lights on and the freezer (full of garden produce) working when the world falls apart.

I have never seen so many large boxes arrive here in one day before. The delivery lorry that dropped off the box of 25 panels put it right in the middle of the drive, so the installers can't leave tonight until they've fitted them. And I shall have to put safety lights on the three huge boxes currently filling the hall, because otherwise I will fall into them if I get up in the night. That's tomorrow's fun. And maybe Saturday's too, the way things are going.

So, once again I have men on my roof, and Mi1dred has been scared by the noises up above her bonnet (as it's a multi-directional array). Good job there is plenty of chunky new cardboard to absorb her oily drips.

If the archives weren't dead (except from within) I could put up some comparison pictures. But, this is definitely much louder than the last time. Think pneumatic drill loud. I can hear the roof screaming.

And as for the scaffolding... 12 years ago it was a few poles and a couple of planks, with a ladder propped against it; this time it is fully safety railed, with swing access gates at one end and fully attached ladder systems.

Back to the coffee making duties...

Do you love me enough to give me your last cat treat?

The excitement here is ongoing.

Air ambulances landing just behind the house, ambulances, nonagenarain neighbour's falls and distant vulture relatives who think 'he should be in a home' rather than living alone as he wants, as he has for the last 40 years, in the house he's inhabited in since 1935;
maternal 80th birthdays; scaffolding put up by a Jamaican b33keeper (and two others who immediately put up their hoodie hoods the minute they saw we had CCTV); lots of metally and sunshiney projects; finishing harvesting, and putting the garden to bed for the year; all peppered by increasingly large herds of deer (from four 5 or 6 years ago, to between 20 and 30 now), glorious blue skies and golden autumnal sunshine, albeit getting much colder, especially at nights, now. Often 20°C differences in temperature between 5pm and 11pm.

I am constantly grateful for the fact that Mr BW can do most things. I cannot imagine the frustration that people who rely on tradesmen and workmen to solve their ongoing 'household needs' must experience.

Our lives are currently beset by other people not doing what they're meant to, when they are meant to, or not doing it properly first time.

Both being 'do-ers', and both being used to being in control/charge, and getting things done properly, happily, and with the minimum necessary effort from everyone, it's hard to constantly be having to chase people good-naturedly, while simultaneously smiling/writing polite emails when we really want to tell them to bloody well get on with it and stop ----ing about.

For a non-biscuit and non-coffee household, we are certainly getting through biscuits and coffee this week.

And two shops in Local Small Town already have full FOTCR™ displays up.

I am not amused.

Autumn 2018

It's 25.2°C at 3.30pm.

Mr BW is at pains to point out that it is raining and stormy north of a line from Devon to Northumberland.

Anyone got any advice about solar PV?

Given that our electricity (cheapest tarrif around) has gone up by 17.4% already this year, that leccy cars cometh (30kWh per 100 miles), that the FIT scheme ends early next year, that we have no gas here, that our oil boiler is 18 years old, and that prices of installations have dropped like a stone in recent months, it seems like a good time to finally take the plunge.

Useless fact of the day

I am amazed to discover that we have 70 light bulbs in various fixed lights around The Coven.

Of these, all but 6 are low energy (well, strictly speaking, all but 18, but all but 6 will be changed as they die).

It was 26.2°C on the external weather station thermometer (hidden in the shade under the eaves) at 5pm tonight. Someone told me today that she'd heard on the radio that it is now officially an Indian summer. Whatever that means. In fact, I'm amazed that one can still say that without being deemed politically incorrect.

8 10 18

Today's date is pleasing.

I am heartened that, over the course of my life, I have caused many people to also perceive such dates as pleasing, and to be constantly looking out for them.

I have discovered why The Universe provided me with a BW Blue wax crayon (*nods down*).

Sadly it has run out before I have been able to scribble waxily over lots of local crap.

In other news, I woke up on Sunday morning to a wooden tortoise staring me in the face. I am currently unnaturally fascinated by the geometry of tortoises.

Sign of the times?

I found a BW Blue wax crayon (thin, unused, non-branded) down by the wheel of my car when we parked in a car park on Monday (full moon).

Most intriguing.

What is the significance of that I wonder?

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?