Getting Away

Getting Away

One of my pleasures in life is to "pop out" for a few hours, or perhaps a day, touring round, seeing the sights, and meeting the people. Usually in our local area, and usually less than 50 miles from home.

I'm not much of a "Christopher Columbus", I like to explore, but have no wish to travel to distant lands. I'm more than happy where I am, I have my life arranged as I want it, which provides contentment, and if you have that there isn't much else you lack.

This wasn't always the case, and I often longed for my annual holiday and the chance to experience life elsewhere. In those days, I remember the suspense building up to the next which holiday, buying "needed" items for a week or two prior to departure, and ecstatic, almost boiling over excitement when departure day dawned.

At the end of such holidays (the first week passing leisurely, the second, seemingly gone in a flash!), I felt sadness, almost depression. The thought of returning to "normality" left me in the "dumps". I remember returning to Tilbury docks once, on the ferry from Sweden, seeing the dockworkers marshalling the ship through the locks, and teeming rain pouring down from a grey sky, and thinking:

"God! What on earth am I doing here, swapping Sweden for this place?".

I used to visit Sweden a lot, I have relatives there, it is, and will always be a favourite destination of mine whenever I decide to travel abroad.

There seemed no comparison then, Sweden being a huge, sparsely populated scenic country of Lake and Forest, with an impressive network of empty high quality roads, a free and easy lifestyle, and a high standard of living. Back here, it was much as ever, too many people with little space, highly industrialised, and everybody seemingly racing to catch up, whilst not always being sure what you are chasing.

I was young then, green, inexperienced, and what reasoning I had wasn't always well considered. It lacked reality, my vivid imagination painted dreams, occasionally of such quality that they perhaps eclipsed reality. The heavy industrialisation of the past has faded over the years, there were forests of cranes at Tilbury docks, and dirty smoking chimneys along the route. All gone, along with all the work that went with them.

These days, I have come to see things generally for what they are. There is usually (perhaps always) a great depth to reality, although I feel it is not always appreciated. We tell the time by staring at the clock face, and although all are aware that there is a mechanism driving the hands, few, I think, appreciate what it is, or how it works.

For some odd reason (or is it that odd?), Nowadays, I always appreciate the mechanism as well as the clock face. I seem to understand what's going on behind, why things interact as they do, the thought behind the design.

I guess what I refer to is experience. You can't teach it, but we all gain it as life passes. Many times lately I find myself wishing that those pulling the levers of power had more experience on which to base their judgement, but I guess they're busy gaining it as they go!

I wonder sometimes if having a greater sense of reality reduces one's imagination? I still have my imagination, and it remains vivid, but is it is as lively as it once was, I wonder? Could it be that getting older and the daily loss of brain cells associated with age has blunted imagination, or perhaps that dosing with reality is an antidote to it?

Unfortunately, I don't have a young me to compare against this old, worn out one, if I did, I might know the answer. Certainly, I don't seem to get the same excitement from things that I once did.

Anyway, having all this vast experience gained over the best part of 60 years (I don't believe it either! No one is that old, and especially not me!), I've come to realise that Great Britain (well, the Olympics have just finished, and the title has been foremost most days recently!) Isn't such a bad place to live at all.

To me, it takes a lot of beating, more beating than other countries have a hope of persuading me otherwise. These days, the thought of going away on holiday almost makes a shudder run down my back at the thought. All those arrangements, working to schedules, allowed extra time (which is then wasted, in the main), What is the point? Where is the fun?

I may well be odd, thinking like that, probably am, but you know what? I don't care.

But now, I'll wind up this blog by returning to my opening line about one of my pleasures being to pop out for a few hours to see what's going on, experience life, meet people etc.

From time to time, I find myself travelling through a village called Rolvenden which is a village that existed in Saxon times, (sometime before the year dot I think). It's a picturesque village sitting on a hill. At the bottom of the hill is Rolvenden station, the main station on the Kent and East Sussex Railway, which stretches from Tenterden in the East, to Bodiam in the West along a river valley.

I'm sure the Rolvenden has many claims to fame, but for me it's sausages.

For many years, approaching it from the South West, I'd pass farmland with signs in the hedge proclaiming; "Free Range Sausages". I was always tempted, and in fact stopped a couple of times to buy some, but free range sausages are shy creatures, and it was rare for them to be caught. I think that the usual method was to lure them into pots, much as you would crabs. I believe they used mashed potato with a bit of gravy as bait!

Seriously though, every time I saw the sign I imagined strings of sausages coiled in the sun, or slithering under the hedgerows, in the manner of snakes. It always brought a wry smile to minutes, and a chuckle!

These days, Rolvenden is home to "Hoad's Corkers" which are proper Kentish sausages in every sense of the word. In my estimation they are never less than equal to any other sausages, and more equal than most. Since I'm invariably dieting, Hoad's Corkers are rarely on my menu nowadays, and I look forward to the rare times when they are.

It All Started with a Quiz Night Conversation

A couple of weeks ago I was in the pub (I ought to say "in a pub", because there is more than one in my life, not that I drink much, more that I go out, socialise, and often have something to eat. Anyway, "the Pub" in question is a regular haunt of mine, on a Sunday evening, and as I say, there I was, with the subject under discussion being quiz night.

A few of the previous week’s questions were bandied about, and one referring to dates in the 60s, got me thinking.

Having lived through nearly 6 decades, I remember a thing or two over that time, and the 60s was a notable era, perhaps the most influential decade of them all? (if you can classify decades that is!). It was a bridge between the past and the future, what followed, where we are now, is to some extent built on a 60’s chassis.

I have long held the opinion, perhaps always held it, that when it comes to the 1960s timeline, if you don't know the actual year something happened, then 1967 is an excellent choice if being right matters, such as on quiz nights.

It is a year that stands out from all the rest of my experience. Such a lot happened, or resulted from actions taken in 1967. It was definitely an historical "turning point".

In 1967 I was 13, becoming 14 right on the tail end, in December (oddly, my birthday has always been in December, but I can't really claim any records!). I was at secondary school, and on January 4^th my school had organised a day trip to London during the Christmas holiday.

As with all school trips (certainly in those days, and I assume these) there was some learning involved, as an excuse for allowing some pleasure. We went to an exhibition, as I remember it, something a bit arty, historical, (and forgettable too, it seems!). Then, (having done our learning bit) we went to Coliseum Cinerama and watched "Grand Prix" on the huge three-part, wide, curved screen. A film bejewelled with stars, including James Garner, and with a cameo role for Graham Hill to add authenticity.

It was a realistic motor racing film in its day, full of action, and tragedy. In those days, cars and equipment (although the pinnacle of excellence then) were very crude by modern standards, and nowhere near as safe or predictable as they are today. Schoolboys like me went in awe of the mechanical achievements of the day which we read about in magazines like "Look and Learn".

Towards the end of the film, one of the heroes, an ageing French driver becoming increasingly disillusioned with the sport, and having the greater understanding of life that experience brings, is contemplating getting out of the sport, when he is killed in a spectacular accident after striking debris, his car crashes through the barrier wall at the top of banking and explodes in flames.

To us boys the crash was a shock, and I guess a lesson. As we left the Cinerama, some were chattering about it, some were quiet and pondering. I can't remember now, what I was doing, but as we emerged into the street and the cold, dark January night (it had been light when we went in) there was a newspaper seller outside, and the headline on his board was: "Campbell Killed".

That's how I know what the date was. Donald Campbell had been killed in a spectacular crash on Coniston water whilst trying to break his own World Water Speed Record. I guess he felt the need to push it that bit further, partly to "maintain momentum" in keeping the speed bandwagon going, along with his career, and perhaps more importantly, in those days it was all about achievement, and Britain was still very much a major player.

In many spheres we were world leading, we still had a massive manufacturing industry, that had made spears and was now making ploughshares and we could still make everything we needed. We were inventive and pioneering.

That said, we were increasingly making mistakes, the sort of mistakes that come from arrogance and not paying attention, although we didn't realise it at the time.  We were slower to adopt new methods, in Europe they often had to, because the old had been swept away.

When I was at school, we were shown films of long-established industries in various parts of the country, which we studied, and which then became part of  CSE and O-level geography exams a few years later, (these days, those same films are probably used in history lessons!).

If you want to know all about 1967, you can Google it, but for now, here is a taster:

Harold Wilson was Prime Minister, and he opened negotiations the Britain to join the EEC in January, which had the support of some of the member states, but which was crushed in November by a DeGaulle Veto (I sometimes wonder if DeGaulle was on my side!). I never thought much of Wilson, but as a schoolboy what did I know, or care? Certainly, he was shrewd and cunning, but he couldn't get round DeGaulle!

In Parliament, 1967 was also played its part with change, the breathalyser was introduced (in October, just in time for Christmas!) by Barbara Castle, the Transport Minister who didn’t drive, and the Abortion Act was passed, after much debate.

The supertanker "Torrey Canyon" ran aground on rocks between Lands End, and the Scilly Isles. It began to break up after a few days, and leak its cargo of crude oil into the sea, so it was bombed by the RAF, and (I believe) the Royal Navy. At any rate, they did their best to smash it up and burn it. In those days, airborne pollution wasn't a consideration I guess!

Barclays opened Britain's first cashpoint, so 1967 marks the start of "the hole in the wall".

Radio One went on air for the first time, and its opening DJ was Tony Blackburn, who's been with us ever since, with his distinctive voice, and who is still almost as young today as he was then. (possibly he was born old?!!)

The QE2 was launched, a beautiful ship, and one designed with the increasing air travel in mind, as she was designed to be dual-purpose, Atlantic crossing for 6 months, and cruising for the remainder of each year (they backed a winner with cruising didn't they!). When built, the QE2 was powered by steam turbines, which give a very smooth ride, especially on a calm sea (as you’ll know, if you've ever been lucky enough to travel on a turbine ship).

They don't build ships with steam turbines these days, too much machinery, too much maintenance, and boilers take up too much useful space. Halfway through her career, the QE2 was converted to diesel power, modern, instant, compact, easy to manage, and all the other advantages. However, they vibrate, and when engines are out of sync, make one's coffee go from smooth to rough and back again whilst you watch it, as the mathematics of varied frequencies meet and part on a cycle.

Also, when you go to bed and put your head on your bunk pillow, you hear the deep rumble of all the Pistons firing in succession. I find it reassuring and sleep well, but I'm sure it keeps some others awake. You tend to notice, and wake, if all the engines shut down suddenly at night (it’s happened once to me, and was never really explained – or noticed by a large percentage of passengers).

I digress, 1967 had so much going on, I'm sure a book could be written about it, maybe someone has? (And would they be as boring as this lengthy scribbling, I wonder?!!).

For me, it was the year in which I had three holidays away, a personal record, and one that I have never matched since. I guess it annoyed the people who ran the local newsagents, who had to cover my paper round for me, but hey, it gave them experience of the worst round in the shop (very large, and spread out, with some big customers on it, which meant an enormous paper bag). I guess it must have impressed them, because they put my weekly wages up half a crown! ( a small fortune in those days, an 8^th of a pound, enough for at least two fish & chip suppers, or a small Airfix model kit –a hobby of mine then).

At Whitsun, I went with the family for a week on the Norfolk Broads for the first time (I went again the next year, but never since, despite intending to), which was a wonderful holiday. Then, in July I went to Sweden with my Swedish grandmother, and one of my brothers, that too was wonderful, and the first holiday apart from the family. Finally, when I returned from Sweden the family had booked a cottage in Dittisham, Devon for week. Again, this was a marvellous time, and we hired a beach boat for the week from Roy Andrews, the ferry man. We were able to potter about on the Dart to the buzz of the British Seagull outboard pushing it along, what fun! We went up to Totnes by river in it, and a few times down to Dartmouth.

I didn't believe three holidays in one year was possible before that, and now, years later, I know it isn't!

That's about it for now, except to mention that later on in the year, actually on November 6th (during half term) dad took us to the "Schoolboys and Schoolgirls" exhibition in (I believe) Olympia.

How do I know the date? Well, as previously, it's marked, but this time by a disaster, the Hither Green train crash. It had happened the night before, when a broken rail end caused a Hastings to London train to derail and crash onto its side (I guess at speed).

As normal, we had driven up to London, and were using the South Circular Road which passes under Hither Green Bridge. That wasn't the reason we went that way, we had completely forgotten (or not known about) the crash. We were stuck in traffic close to the bridge, where the carriages were on their side, and with a pair of steam cranes alongside ready them to lift them up. Dad told us not to look, but how can you not?

Anyway, they lifted the carriage immediately in front of us as we remained jammed in traffic.  The entire carriage side had been ripped off as it travelled on its side down the track. You could see the whole inside of the carriage, and what wasn’t fixed had fallen to the missing side. I won’t describe what I saw, but it was an horrific sight, one you don’t forget.

In those days re-opening the line (or road) took priority and I daresay the line was operational by next morning, not (as now) a crime scene for days or weeks of careful forensic investigation.

As you can see, that daytrip was very memorable, although not in the way dad planned it, but the unusual didn't end at Hither Green. A few miles further on we were waiting at traffic lights, when there was a long skid and a car struck us from behind, knocking us forwards. I remember the boot flying up behind us, because the back of the car had been stoved in, and taken the latch mechanism with it.

You can do wonders with a length of string, and we tied the boot down. Luckily, the rear lights (in the wings of a Zodiac) had escaped damage, and the car was drivable.

Eventually we arrived at Olympia and parked in a street full of cars, but when we returned to the car afterwards, it wasn't there! Neither were all the other cars that had been parked nose to tail down both sides of the street, they'd all being towed away! So we got a ride in a London cab to “Mund Street Car Pound” (if I remember right) as a bonus, and dad got to pay an unexpected parking fine, all of which probably made his day!

I enjoyed the exhibition, and came away with John Ryan's autograph (he of Captain Pugwash fame), he even drew me a Captain Pugwash. I wish I'd got it now.

Yet Another Blog

Yet Another Blog

It seems to have been a while since my last blog, time flies I guess, and I seem to have been reasonably busy lately. Not everything in life is rosy, and this last week has been no exception, I've had a bit of a setback. Nothing too exciting, it's more that I'm not good with sudden changes of direction that interfere with my plans, and so for the last few days I've had a few mixed emotions to cope with.

Time however is a great healer, and very soon I expect to be running on an even keel again, my usual optimistic self. Life has a habit of throwing spanners to keep us on our toes and I should be used to that, but I tend to grumble when something happens. Overall it ain’t too bad, and probably won’t make a lot of difference, but that’s not how I see it (yet).

Anyway I’ll leave it there for now, and stay calm.

Yesterday, Anna and I went over to Dover, and then onto St Margaret's Bay where we parked down by the beach. It's a spectacular place with a cliff backdrop, and yesterday it was a real sun trap, despite weather forecasts suggesting dullness and rain.

We sat outside "The Coastguard", a pub with a large patio and a wonderful Sea view. In yesterday's bright sunshine, sitting outside and enjoying the view while listening to the splashing of waves on the beach, was really pleasant. I always feel that it's a great place to have some kind of fish dish, very apt, considering there are fish living just a few yards from the pub. I remember seeing lots of shellfish (winkles mainly) in the past, at low tide, but yesterday the tide was in.  On the beach were half a dozen or so fishing boats, beach boats, drawn up to the wall, above the high tide mark.

In winter, one can sit inside The Coastguard at a table, perhaps in the restaurant and watch the shipping through double-glazed windows.

Talking of shipping, so much passes St Margaret's Bay, that there is always something sailing by. Nearly all the ferries into and out of Dover pass close by, and yesterday there were several, including the new P&O ships, which are the biggest ferries ever to use Dover. The constant passing of ferries suggests that there is a lot of business on that route at the moment (either that, or a lot of spare capacity!).

The coastline around Dover has a great deal of history attached, and the old coast road between St Margaret's-at-Cliff, and Dover is no exception. This small road which follows the coast behind the cliffs passes or goes through many sites of interest connected with World War I, and World War II, as its close proximity to Europe put it in the firing line, so to speak.

This road also passes the site of Bleriot’s landing (more sudden than a landing I reckon! I think he was keen to get down!), He landed in the shadow of the castle, which this road also passes. If you're familiar with Dover Castle, you will know just how impressive it is from any direction, large and imposing.

It was still sunny in Dover, but returning towards Folkestone, low clouds were blowing in over the cliff, and so the weather changed completely within about 3 miles, turning dull. A good trip out, it took my mind off things for a bit.

Thanks for reading, Dan

Another Blog

Another Blog

I've been writing a blog since the end of May, and struggling a bit. I haven't published one for a few days, and thought I would today, but so far I have written two to the point where they became waffly, and, I felt pointless.

Writing should be easy, but I'm struggling, first to find an interesting subject, secondly to write it in a manner that makes it readable. I'd say, that so far today I failed on both counts.

I obviously need to write more to sharpen myself up, and get in the flow of these things. Anyway, here I go again.

I wrote about a visit to see a play at Eastbourne recently, on Wednesday Anna and I returned to see Noel Coward play: "Volcano", a play "wot he wrote" while living as a tax exile in Jamaica in the 60s, and which was never performed until after his death, oddly. Or perhaps not oddly, as it's a play set on a fictitious tropical island, about the complicated love-lives of a small group of expat colonials living there. Probably very true to life at the time, and no doubt controversial in its day. Pretty tame by today's standards, so I guess that tells you how far we've progressed, or regressed, depending on points of view. They lived on the side of a volcano that erupted, and provided tensions.

We arrived late and had to sneak in at the back, as the journey hadn't improved, with more roadwork’s in more places than last time. I still think it's a mad time to be laying new road surfaces on the seafront's of two resorts, but what would I know? I'm only a road user.

If I'd been told that Eastbourne was the walking stick and crutch capital of England, I wouldn't be surprised. I have never seen so many people using walking sticks, or on crutches, and often one on each arm. Their progress often looked painful, and I felt for them. After all,  like all of us they still have the same youngster at the controls, but their bodies are letting them down. Many of us still have that to come, and we, in our turn, will also have to make the most of our circumstances.

After the show, not having had lunch (travelled late, went without!), we took advantage of one of Eastbourne’s many cafes to grab a sandwich and a coffee, very welcome it was too! We also had time to wander about a little bit, and strolled down the promenade to the Pier, and out on it to the end and back. Eastbourne is well-ordered sort of place, open, comfortable, easy, and well laid out. It has its theatres, which cater for most tastes.

Eastbourne is 55 miles from my house, within that range there are very few places that offer plays on a regular basis. In fact, I'm still looking for others. Now that I have "discovered" an interest in seeing plays, it's likely I will want to continue doing so from time to time, and so like as not, I'll get to know the Eastbourne a bit better.

I don't go away on holiday as a rule, but a day away somewhere like Eastbourne leaves you feeling as though you've been away a week anyway. I guess it's the complete change of scenery and atmosphere.

As ever, I'm still not happy that this blog is interesting, or worth reading. I'm tempted to write a fictional one next, I think it would be more fun to write, and maybe easier on the eye of the reader. Let me know what you think, be honest, I appreciate honesty, you won't upset me.

Thanks for reading, regards Dan

Graphics Tablets and Things

Well, it's a Sunday and I find myself in my den (my office, or computer room as we oft refer to it). I felt it was time to write another blog, as much to keep me progressing with them, as to bore the reader with! So here I go:

Often I think of subjects to write about, but as fast as these thoughts arrive, they seem to dissipate when I'm actually faced with the microphone I dry up, (I dictate, because my typing speed is appalling, a tortoise in boxing gloves could get away from me!).

So what have I been up to recently? Good question, and one I'm keen to know the answer to! Over the last couple of days the missus and I have been de-weeding a couple of flowerbeds next to the house, and then planting them out with some flowers that we bought.

The weeds would have been all right if they had decent flowers, but they were those annoying weeds that are all foliage and vigourous, spreading over any open soil like a disease. So we pulled them out, and hoed them until the soil returned. I'm not a keen gardener, and Anna is even less so.

There are pleasures to be had seeing the difference you make through your own efforts, enjoying the open air, the view, the birdsong, etc. Which is just as well to offset the myriad of aches and pains that seems to result! I have quite hard skin on my palms (time was, in my labouring days when I had what used to be called "horny hands", before it meant something else). Well, that was obviously some time ago, because having hoed enthusiastically, I've worn a hole in the palm of my right hand, and wouldn't you know, everything I grip, or touch seems reliant on this one spot, ouch!

A spot on the palm of your hand is only really a worry if your pirate, and I guess, if it doesn't heal, whereas mine will heal once I stop bashing it (a plaster is no good, I've tried that until I got fed up).

Anyway, we went down to the local garden centre, a place that was built in the early 70s, and one I used to enjoy visiting in my younger days. Back then, I'd sometimes pop in, have a wander round the gardens, and grab a coffee, as a pleasant way to spend time.

In more recent years, I've only been there once or twice, but needing a few plants, I thought it would be good to have a look, see how it had changed.

It is now owned by larger group, who seem to own most of the garden centres in our area, and all somewhat similar, at least, in terms of what's on offer. The old garden centre is still there underneath, older, and perhaps a little less cared for, but I guess like many businesses, garden centres are not the goldmines they probably were in the past. These days, customers are price conscious, there’s greater competition, and profit margins are squeezed as a result.

All in all, the experience was good, the cafe was pleasant, great coffee, and I expect we'll go back again from time to time. We were able to buy some bedding plants as part of the half price sale. We were careful to pick "Rabbit proof" (hopefully!) plants.

All the plants looked a bit dry, and worse for wear, so hopefully they'll appreciate a good home and bloom. On the other hand, if they've given up the fight, our efforts we will have been annoyingly wasted! Time will tell, but last night's rain has done them a power of good.

I've mentioned my photography before, probably bored you with it, and therefore won't do so now. Oh, you want to hear about it? Alright then, you twisted my arm!

Looking at Photoshop lessons on disc, and online, it's been obvious for a while that using a graphics tablet has certain advantages, at least at times, and so I decided to have a go. I've had a graphics tablet for some years, but never really used it, so dusted it off, and plugged it in.

It's like starting all over again, a whole new science, and somewhat different to what I'm used to. I reckon I will need to take time to learn this, and so will initially put a little bit of time aside each day to practice. Probably, if I’d been doing so since I bought the tablet sometime back, I’d be ahead of the game instead of just setting out., but what’s done, etc….

I'm still discovering features and experimenting simply to understand what it can do, and how. I'm finding it a bit daunting, and, as ever with Photoshop there are so many variables possible with each aspect. If I knew what I wanted to achieve I'd have some idea about how to get there, but I'm still exploring possibilities.

It's exciting having a lot to learn, I'm still getting to grips with Photoshop, and Lightroom, both of which are likely to be "icebergs" in that you will only ever use a small part of them. So boredom is impossible. Now I have the graphics tablet to master as well.

With a graphics tablet, you can progress into the areas of drawing and painting, as well as use it on photographs and similar. Perhaps some of my problem with a graphics tablet is that I've always been pretty useless at drawing? I suspect it has a lot to do with it, and if so, that's another skill to master, another learning curve.

So for the foreseeable, and beyond, this old dog is going to have to learn a whole lot of new tricks, and he's going to enjoy doing it too! If there's one thing the mind needs, it's something to occupy it, without a bit of load, the machinery whirrs round and shakes itself bits!

This brings me neatly back to graphics tablet practice, which is my next task after writing this. In the meantime, I'll watch our bedding plants take off with all the extra water they're getting, and nurse my aching back.

Hope I haven't bored you too much? Feel free to leave a comment, good or bad, and I'll see you next time.

Thanks for reading this, regards, Dan

A Trip to Canterbury

The road to Canterbury passes our Castle. When I say Castle, I actually mean bungalow, but I was trying to impress! Anyway, from the end of our drive, turning right and following the main road finds you in Canterbury after about 13 miles. Turning left, and then right 500 yards down the road also takes you to Canterbury after about 15 miles or so. Both are scenic rural routes and both pleasant.

One of these routes is via Stone Street, the old Roman road from Lympne (a one-time Roman port, now 1 mile inland), to Canterbury. Throughout much of its length, Stone Street is straight as a die, and passes through the oddly named locale of "Six Mile". Odd, that is until you put two and two together and realise that it was a Roman fort 6 miles from Lympne to protect the road. They say nothing changes, well, maybe change is a little bit slow in some parts of the world!

With Canterbury so close, it is perhaps surprising that I rarely visit it these days. In the past, I was often there, frequently for shopping as it has some of the best shops in the area. These days though I don't shop very often, buying only what I need, as I need it. My days of traipsing round the shops looking for something to buy are long gone.

We've spent the last year getting rid of stuff that I bought needlessly over decades, which simply cluttered the place up, and wasn't really used. As a bachelor, I was a bit of a hoarder, but five years ago Anna and I surprised ourselves by getting married, as both of us had decided that we'd stay single. That was before we met each other!

Anyway, my hoarding bachelor lifestyle ground to a halt as the place now had a new mistress, and nowhere for her stuff (always far less than mine!). Eventually, she called time, and so a year or so ago we began a spring-clean that involved two skips, at least another skip's worth by car to the tip, and several trips to charity shops. At last the place is tidy, (oddly, just how I like it, although nobody will believe me having seen what I had let it become!).

Perhaps surprisingly, the place doesn't echo, but then it still has all we need within it. It's a pleasure to pull open a draw and find it empty instead of stuffed to the gunwales with all sorts of tat.

I have digressed! This was supposed to be about a trip to Canterbury, so I'd better get back on track.

With the need to shop now a distant memory, driving to Canterbury, parking up somewhere (and isn't parking always a problem?), and then wandering the streets and shops seemed like a self-imposed nightmare. Added to which, the thought of choosing a crowded town centre as opposed to open countryside as a place to visit seemed a no-brainer.

Until recently. About three weeks ago Anna wanted to see and show me an Italian cafe in Canterbury that she used to visit in the past, and so (somewhat reluctantly) I drove us over there, and parked up near the shops.

Canterbury is a very historical city, most of it is very old. Some of it was bombed in the Baedeker raids of the Second World War, and in my youth, the bombed parts had been replaced with the sort of lightweight modern buildings that were everywhere in the late 50s and early 60s. The sort building style that epitomised 60s secondary modern schools, and hospitals, brick walls with wood and glass infill.

Many of these buildings have themselves since been replaced with far more substantial buildings close to the original (a great deal of Canterbury is original, most of it, in fact). There is also an up-to-date shopping centre, with architect designed high quality shops, built over the same recent period.

The city has become one of England's most popular tourist attractions. It's within easy reach of Dover and the Channel Tunnel, and a constant stream of continental coaches arrive daily. Many foreign students and schoolchildren visit each day, and columns of them pass you by in the street, almost everywhere, it seems, at times.

It is very easy to see why Canterbury is so popular, always lots going on, and so much history at your fingertips. We enjoyed our visit. So much so, that we intend to go far more in future.

A couple of days ago, we went again, this time to a different part of the city, and then walking in towards the centre from another direction. As previously, lots to see, and as ever I had my camera with me and took a few photographs. At one point, we wandered into the Cathedral precincts. Canterbury Cathedral is an impressive building built on a grand scale, and towering above us mere mortals at its base.

Sometime later, we walked up to the new Marlowe Theatre, a modern architect designed edifice, but Canterbury Cathedral, it isn't. I guess it has "presence", but I'm not sure it has "character". No doubt it's a technical marvel, but I wonder if it's perhaps a bit "cold" rather than "warm, and welcoming"? I really have no idea, having not been inside. We had intended to go in and maybe get a program, but as we approached, a security guard was rapidly locking the doors whilst another put up signs making it clear they were closed.

Naturally, we must reserve judgement until we attend a performance there. Having been to the Devonshire Park Theatre in Eastbourne last week, which is a characterful and friendly place, the Marlowe has some steep competition for our affection. Looking through its acres of glass window, the one thing that struck us was the number of stackable plastic seats, something that didn't really show a lot of promise, but as I say, we will have to wait and see.

As I write this, it's just a few minutes to midnight, and probably time I was looking to turn in, so I'll leave it there. I've gone on far more than I planned, meandered off piste a little, but hopefully there's something worth reading amongst this text.

Thanks for reading, if you've made it all the way to the bottom, you probably deserve a pat on the back! As ever, if you feel like making a comment, I'd be interested, whatever you think. Dan

A Trip to the Matinee

A Trip to the Matinee

Yesterday was a bit of an eye-opener. The mother-in-law is staying for a few days, and so we've been getting out and about a bit more. She lives abroad, and so her visits tend to be condensed into perhaps a week, a couple of times a year.

In the past, she and Anna (my Mrs, the boss!) Have often gone to see a play in Eastbourne together. Usually on those occasions, I was left behind, but not yesterday! Yesterday being Wednesday, was matinee day. A trip to Eastbourne had been rumoured and then rejected the night before, but this was resurrected mid-morning when the sun came out.

I was driver, so committed, and we booked three seats for a play called "Rope" at the Devonshire Park Theatre in Eastbourne. I haven't been to a live performance in decades, and wasn't sure if I would survive, but it was a nice day, and it's quite a pleasant journey across the Marsh, past Rye, Hastings, Bexhill, Pevensey etc. The coastal route, a scenic journey, but perhaps an annoying one, if cracking on is your aim.

It was a delightfully sunny day and as we passed through each town, lots of people were out enjoying the sunshine. As we waited traffic lights near the seafront in Hastings, I saw a group of gents gathered round a table drinking ale in the bright sunshine (well, some had lager!). I imagined them as pirates, slapping each other on the back drunkenly, and “Arrrrrh- Arrrrrhing”! (It seemed apt to me, anyway!)

Hastings isn't the town it was, or should be. It's still got a seaside “Kiss me Quick” resort charm, but choosing June to carry out roadwork’s suggested an idiot “at the wheel” to me. Then, as you travel down the seafront you see the naked bones of the burnt-out, and rusting-away Pier. A Wreck, that draws the eye, and brings sadness to what should be a happy place. Far sadder still would be demolition, the shabby way to deal with an eyesore.

Hastings needs it's pier, it's an attraction and a focal point, it should be repaired and back in action, double quick, not lay there like a rotting carcass. The other thing Hastings needs is a good road connection to London, without which it will remain a blighted town with higher unemployment as an unnecessary result.

I suspect that what Hastings needs most are people with “fire in their belly” running the show, making happen.

We pressed on towards genteel Eastbourne. On past theatre trips they'd often stopped at a Little Chef near Pevensey which fitted matinee timing, so we pulled in only to find it boarded up and in a state of advancing decay behind concrete barriers. A real shame, because the Little Chef's always provided useful facilities, reliably, as you knew what to expect. I guess that the Little Chef story is an exercise in how to get it wrong by first getting it right and then standing still whilst the market moves on by. They used to be all over the place, didn’t they.

The Devonshire Park Theatre is a delightfully intimate sort of place that has survived from a previous era. It felt friendly from the outset. Its biggest drawback is parking, made worse this week with preparations for the tennis (which will no doubt be far worse next week when the tennis actually arrives!). It didn't help my temper much that the car park across the park from the theatre had been isolated due to tennis operations, and not even one of the footpath's that criss-cross the park had been left open, which had all the look of arrogant planning. Arrogant, because Joe Public’s needs were simply brushed aside in all of it.

Luckily, to offset my grumblings, the play itself "Rope", a thriller, was very enjoyable, and I'm glad I went. I think that it’s more than likely that my decades of theatrical avoidance have come to an end!

Thanks for reading, hope I haven't gone on too long, Dan

A Fresh Start

I wasn't happy with my first three blogs, which were long-winded, and (dare I say it? All right I will!) Boring, in my opinion. If you've waded through them, I can only apologise. I will aim to do better, and hope I haven't already put too many people off reading my blog page.

A few days ago, me and the missus decided to pop out for lunch to a pub we rarely visit, and, as luck would have it, they'd had a beer festival for the (somewhat wet) Jubilee weekend, and found themselves with an amount of unsold real ale. As soon as I saw the handwritten sign that there were a number of beers available at £1.50 a pint, I realised I'd landed on my feet! These days, I don't drink much alcohol because it's calorific and I don't want to put weight on, but beer for less than the Diet Coke I'd normally have had, was irresistible.

I'm guessing that the last time it cost £1.50 a pint would have been in the early 90s, quite possibly at the Queen's Golden Jubilee? Anyway, they had about 15 different beers available, and I chose one I wasn't familiar with, which was excellent. I stuck to half pints so that I could try another (pint limited by the missus!, Sensibly, I concede!). I followed the first beer with Adnams Ghost Ship, and if that first beer was excellent, the Ghost Ship was even better! It was a pleasant beer and had a strong undertone flavour like a bouquet of summer flowers. Had I been allowed to, I think I could have easily sozzled myself on Ghost Ship that afternoon, and will look for it again in the future.

Pubs are part of the character of Britain, and are very unique within Europe. It saddens me to see that so many have closed, and continue to do so. Times change, and nearly half a century ago when I left school, pubs were everywhere, and "everybody" used them socially, meeting up after work or at weekends. It wasn't so much the drinking, we weren't all drunks, and (although beer was relatively cheap – possibly more than a gallon for a Pound?) getting plastered wasn't really on the agenda. People liked to talk, with friends, with strangers, often telling jokes, sometimes arguing over politics (or one of the other "best avoided" subjects).

Life was simpler, television had few channels, and no means of recording it to watch later. Pubs used to open at six o'clock in the evening, and close at 10 PM (which became 11 PM during the summer) each with 10 min drinking up time, and that usually strictly enforced. There were one or two pubs whose clocks never seem to work properly, and if you really needed a drink (or thought you did!) After hours, there were, as I say, one or two pubs that might run on a little bit. Such pubs were rare, and in those days the local police kept a presence, which made drinking after hours a risky business.

These days, almost all pubs sell food, most rely on restaurant trade for a large part of their income. Beer is generally an accompaniment rather than the reason for being there, many men take their wives out for a meal, and get a beer as a bonus, (perhaps a little bit for old time's ’ sake?), After all, beer drinking is a rather "male" pastime, in my opinion, with the ladies tending towards Lager (itself a beer, but not “knife and fork” like  a good Bitter), or am I being unfair?

Whenever I visit a pub where a group of people have gathered to chat and or simply to enjoy a drink, I find it a warming experience, because to me, however much I enjoy a meal with the missus (and I definitely do!), to see a pub being used traditionally, is to my mind, a good thing.

Okay, we can all go online and express ourselves whilst listening to others views, but do we, and is it as rewarding? One of the things that kept a sense of proportion throughout society, was the physical interaction that you had with others. Nowadays, with mobile phones and the Internet we have greater interaction possibilities with the whole world, but are we gaining what we should or could, from it?

Makes you think doesn't it?

Thanks for reading, Dan

Photography

Photography

My main hobby is photography, a hobby I began in earnest about 1970 (for those of you not familiar with Ernest, he's a small village near Zeal!). Back in those days, I did a lot of black-and-white photography, in fact, nearly all of it was, since it was the easiest and cheapest. I bought a second-hand enlarger, and enrolled in the photography class at the local adult education centre.

About 1971 (after quite a bit of soul-searching) I spent month's wages on a Praktica SLR camera made in East Germany. It seemed such an extravagant sum, but it was state-of-the-art, and cheaper than Japanese or West German alternatives. It had a decent large aperture lens, and through the lens metering. In those days, building cameras required a great deal of human input, and high precision. Shutter mechanisms for instance, were like a tiny gearbox, but more complex than a watch. It's easy to see where the money went.

Taking pictures involved focusing, and then adjusting the exposure by setting the required shutter speed for the job, and fine tuning by setting the aperture. It could be the other way round; you'd set the aperture and then adjust the speed, and in both cases what you were doing was lining a ring up with the meter needle (both seen through the viewfinder – an advanced feature in those days!).

No prizes for guessing that taking pictures was quite a slow process, there was a lot to do, and that was without framing the shot! I guess the speed that we worked at reflected the subjects that we tended to photograph. When speed was essential, perhaps at a sporting event, or air show, you had to be predictive, focusing and setting up exposures where you expected the action to be. A small aperture gave greater depth of field to offset focusing errors, this meant longer exposures, so you would try to use faster film, or uprate a slower film by developing longer.

Today, you can buy fully automatic digital cameras in a supermarket for £30 or less that take pictures instantly at the press of a button, and that rarely take a bad picture. Not only that, the pictures themselves cost nothing to take, whereas using film, you were reluctant to waste any, so many pictures were never taken.

For me though, the biggest gain in going digital is the ability to process pictures using Photoshop. It is a huge and comprehensive photo-manipulation package, limited only by one's ability, and imagination. Which means that I have tremendous room for improvement! Being somewhat useless when it comes to drawing or painting, using Photoshop, I am at least able to get one or two rungs up the ladder from the bottom in graphic arts!

I'll leave it there for now. No doubt, Photoshop will find itself covered in more depth later on (boringly so?). Hopefully my blog is readable, I worry that it isn't, or that the subject matter I choose maybe of no interest. I feel I need to improve, and would welcome feedback (straight talking suits me, if that helps!).

Thanks for reading this, Dan

Time Travel

Right on the tail end of 1963, a new sci-fi TV series kicked off, called Doctor Who. In those black-and-white days, there wasn't much choice, there were only two channels and they only ran for a few hours each, so anything out of the ordinary was a bonus. I remember that it had quite a profound effect on us primary school kids, and was the subject of many discussions in the playground.

It introduced us to the concept of time travel, a rather brilliant idea that allowed storylines to go where they pleased, limited only by the script writer's imagination. To us kids in the playground, it was inspirational.

Anyway, having done a bit of pseudo-time travelling myself (one way, and limited to recent modern history!), I got to wondering if time travel would ever be possible?

And then it came to me, if time travel becomes possible, then it's already here!

But if so, where would it be? Who amongst us would have the modern-day equivalent of a tardis?

The answer is perhaps quite simple. It would be somebody who has been very lucky, they've invested well, and bucked negative trends, or they have won a large cash prize, or been lucky gambling on the horses.

Some such thing.

Not all, most people will simply have been lucky or skilful, but possibly one or two have travelled back from the future?

Like you, I feel this idea is far-fetched, fanciful, and that time travel won't be with us just yet.

Still, it's a nice idea, and you never know, it might just explain why sometimes a big lottery winner takes some time to come forwards! Perhaps they've had quite a long journey to get here, over the centuries!

If my daft theory holds any water at all, some of the big winners may well have disappeared completely just after the press conference.

I wonder...........

Thanks for reading, Dan

My First Ever Blog

This is my very first blog posting. I've always enjoyed writing, and had an inkling to be a blogger, but until today I have successfully avoided doing so! However, all that seems set to change, as away I go with very little idea what to write about.

My feeling is that my blogs will be occasional, and of a general nature rather than subject specific. I'm interested in most things, very interested in some, and I guess can take or leave the remainder. Sport doesn't interest me very much, getting somewhere faster, quicker, higher, etc doesn't set the pulse racing. I don't feel a need to prove myself to anyone, nor do I wish to. I can come last and not worry about it at all, the main thing to me is enjoying what I do.

People interest me, it takes all sorts to make a world, and we all fit in somewhere. We might not all be a major component, but without even the smallest cog in place, the mechanism simply doesn't work. Sadly, these days there are fewer individuals amongst us. "Characters" at one-time numerous, have been superseded by somewhat "plastic" individuals (by that, I mean that too many of us are made to fit someone else's mould, we are trained or taught to react and think similarly. Being thus makes us easier to manipulate, and predictable).

I tend to do my own thing, for my own reasons, and am not one to follow convention. I really like to see eccentrics, they are colourful, and add to life in a way that it would otherwise be dull. I wish I was one myself, but we can't have everything.

If I don't see sound reasoning, or point, I'm not inclined to blindly follow along. I'm not one to see "how they do things here", and then go along with some piece of devised stupidity, simply to fit in. That doesn't mean I'm a rebel, I consider myself an individual (as indeed we all are), nothing more, I'm not special.

As one goes through life, one comes across a fair bit of "devised stupidity", which in my opinion is best tackled humorously. Everybody benefits from a good laugh, and there is something funny in everything, even one's own demise, (although sometimes one's imagination can't quite run as far as laughing about it!).

Having been about for more than half a century, I've been able to see and understand a great deal. Early on, when I was "green as grass", I looked to others for guidance and examples, I also had the sense of the youngster that I was pretty well invincible, and would probably last forever.

As you get older, you realise that you are neither. You also realise that many of those you followed as examples, were themselves lost, or at the very least misguided. I'm sure they all felt that they knew what was what, they worked it out and came to conclusions. Perhaps they were the right conclusions for themselves, perhaps not.

You see, one thing that getting older brings with it is experience. It can't be taught, only learned, and learned most easily through open minds, because once you close your mind to an idea or concept, you are at risk of replacing reality with supposition, and whilst perception is useful, it is not always a good road map for accurate navigation.

There are so many instances where reality take second place in decision-making. We see it almost daily on the news, where (for instance) politicians argue cases for wrong actions as though they were based on hard facts, only to discover later that rather than get you out of a hole, they dug an even bigger one!

In life, I think contentment is the ultimate goal. Contentment is achievable at all kinds of income levels. There is a Chinese proverb that I think covers this well;

 "if you are contented, you have enough; don't wait to have enough to be contented, for you will never have enough".

Contentment is a level of satisfaction that brings a sense of well-being, and that itself brings calm.

I don't know how I've arrived at this point, I didn't know where I was going when I started, and I have no idea where I will go in the future, with my blogging. I'm interested in most things, an expert in none, but reasonably knowledgeable, certainly to a level that suits myself. I use the experience I've gained in life to help with my present, and to try and reasonably predict the future.

Not that I tell fortunes, you understand, simply as a kind of radar to navigate through life. These days, predictions have a habit of being inaccurate. Situations change quite rapidly in the world, and the human race is quite good at confounding itself! Just when you assume all is stable, someone rocks the boat and knocks things off course!

All of which adds to the fun! If everything was too predictable a great deal of the point would be lost. Many things can be predicted, and even then, surprise.

I'm going to finish this blog here. I've no idea what future blogs will hold, or whether they will be similar to this. Hopefully someone will find it worth reading, I've enjoyed writing it, so for me it's done its job. I feel it's added to my contentment, possibly I would have been a little more content with more humour? Anyway, they'll hopefully be time in the future for more humorous blogs, although I don't expect all to be humorous, or contain humour, but time will tell, we can read them together, and find out!

That's it for now, thanks for reading. Dan