GOOD FRIDAY RUN

I had spent the morning "de-winterising" a motorcycle (cleaning off the protective spray applied in November and generally tarting up prior to selling). The sun was warm on my back and the day delightfully calm and spring-like.


After a light lunch the ebike and the lanes called. The usual alcohol infused coffee flask was prepared, along with a couple of cheese scones. (The inner man needs to be refuelled at the halfway stage, even though the bike has electrical assistance).


My aim, as is often the case, was Romney Marsh, but I decided to take a different route today, following Robert Frost's musings:

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same, "

I had not seen my most coveted house for a long while and wanted to check how it was getting on

Still there, it seems, still surrounded at the rear by absolutely delightful gardens, green, close-mown lawns, a stream and daffodils in abundance. I would love to see inside it as the rooms seem to be all on different levels and I can imagine the musty smell of ancient, cured oak of which it is built. I could never afford it and I guess my modern, estate house with all its mod cons is more comfortable, warm and draught free but my illusion continues, unpricked.

Then it was a descent to Romney Marsh. An artist's paradise with its vast skyscapes

When cycling through these winding, deserted lanes (even on a Bank Holiday, they are traffic free and undiscovered - long may that continue) I have the feeling of being at sea in a small sailing boat, the distant escarpment being my eventual landfall.

The coffee and scones were enjoyed on a bench in a windless little Marsh churchyard, the sun being so hot that I needed to take off my cycling jacket and the underlying sweater. A glorious afternoon, well stolen as the rest of the subsequent Easter weekend dissolved into torrential rain and gale force winds.



"A HALF-HOUR JOB"

I had occasion to fit a side stand on a small motorcycle I have recently purchased (of which more in a later blog post). There is a lug built in to take one, but our dreaded European "Health and Safety" rules, to which we have to comply, has meant that motor cycle manufacturers can only fit such now if they include an electronic cut off switch to immobilise the engine unless it is retracted. (It seems that some forgetful wights forgot and rode off with the stands down - they soon remembered when leaning over to take a left hand bend!). This particular model had dispensed with them since the  European diktat was promulgated in about 2000.

Such stands are still available via Ebay as  most more enlightened countries outside the European "state" still allow them to be fitted. So I obtained one and looked forward to a pleasant half an hour fitting it. (Motorcyclists love "tinkering").

It came complete with fixing bolt and retracting spring. The actual stand fitted quickly and easily in about 5 minutes to the lug provided. However, the retracting spring is, of necessity, very powerful and when offered up it was approximately one cm. short of its locating stud.

Its end was totally inaccessible and the spring too strong to be able to stretch it, but a known dodge by anyone purporting to have some engineering knowledge is to extend the spring by fitting spacers into the coils. This can be effected by putting the spring in a vice and bending it to left and right to open the coils. Coins are useful spacers. The trouble is that as one bends the coils one way the tension on the previous spacers is released and they drop out. Calm thought was called for and insulation tape came to the rescue.

As each set of spacers was fitted a winding of tape kept them in place and the end result was a spring sufficiently extended

There was a problem however, on coming to fit it I found the space too congested to loop the end over the stud because the width of the spacers was impinging on the stand

It pays to keep calm in such circumstances. The only solution was to remove all the coins and cut them in half (sorry your majesty!)

Result!

Once the stand was put into the "down" position the spacers could easily be removed with a pair of thin nosed pliers as the spring extended.

and what I thought would be a half-hour job took the whole of Saturday morning. But I did, in a strange way, enjoy working out the problem. (It's not just riding motorcycles that gives pleasure - fettling increases it).

My wife gets her pleasure from solving crosswords - mine is of a more practical nature.

GROUNDWORK (or owner trained by dog)

It is nearly 20 years since I had a female dog and had forgotten how bitches can ruin a lawn. It does not apply to the male of the species. Dog urine contains large concentrations of nitrates. In small doses these are, in fact, very good for the grass, but, as the Delphic inscription had it, "medan agan" (nothing in excess). A male dog tends to cock a leg and spray, thus dispersing the result. But a bitch likes to squat in one place and puts everything in a few square inches. Result, as can be seen below, large, dead yellow patches on the grass. (I hope you are not eating whilst reading this)

For my previous dogs I had a area of paving slabs where they could amble around. This was easy to keep clean and tidy. The current fastidious little lady does not like squatting on cold concrete and refuses to pee on same. As soon as she was let loose on the lawn she would perform (it may be that she enjoyed the sensation of grass tickling her fanny). This I needed to address.

Physical work which I used to do in about two days I now need about two weeks to complete. I have found since the stroke that I can work for about an hour, then need a sit down with a cup of coffee and a book for half an hour or so. This is rather pleasant in fact and lends grace and elegance to the day . Why did I never do this before - the work ethic dominated, now I have an excuse!

So, over the course of the last two weeks I have lifted ten 60cm square concrete slabs.

The compressed soil  beneath them (Kentish clay of the consistency of cheese) then needed to be dug over (the hardest part of the project). Then a drive to the local garden centre for three large bags of topsoil to mix with and "dilute" the clay.

I rang the local turf supplier and said I needed some. "We deliver free on orders over £50", he said, "how much do you want?" I only needed 6 rolls for the job so I collected them myself  (went into the back of the "Popemobile" very nicely, thank you).

Then a visit to a builders outlet for a quantity of 180 cm. lengths of timber (again the Popemobile swallowed the lot, no probs.).

The result is a fenced area half slabs and half grass. Little madam is confined therein and is happy to perform on her personal bit of lawn. Usually I am able to follow her with a watering can to dilute her deposit.

So, job done. But it does occur to me, just who is training whom?

SURFACING

At last the three months of winter draw to a close and I begin to emerge from SAD hibernation. It has been a particularly doleful winter this time, almost ceaseless rain, with dreary "nothing" grey days. But the sun's red orb now sits exactly on the far house rooflines when I rise in the mornings (07.00) and the frost sparkles everywhere. Muddy paths on the dog walk have solidified to ice and many more birds are in evidence.

At least the warmer winter has meant that primroses are now blooming early and even the first spikes of unfurled bluebells are evident. Unusual, but welcome.

It may be just a little early, but March is the first month of the spring cycle, so I now change my blog head image accordingly.

THE NEW ADDITION - ROXY

House trained and eager to be part of the family, she has settled in well and made this her home almost at once. She sleeps on her bed most of the day and this is placed on the upstairs landing at night, where she stays quiet until we get up in the morning. (I am not a fan of dogs in bedrooms)

When she arrived she was so excited at being set free from the rescue centre that she pulled a good deal on the lead. But using a special lead  I overcame this within 5 minutes of her wearing it. It is an incredible piece of kit which I would recommend to all dog owners. Now she is quiet and well behaved on walks but dislikes the wet and steps daintily around puddles (she is a lady, after all).

The vet reckons she is probably a cross between a terrier and a lurcher so, when I have fully trained her to return on call, I expect her to be pretty fast off the lead. The local squirrels better watch out!

She may be totally different from my previous and much loved German Shepherds, but she is a great addition to my life.

A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS PRESENT

I am not hoping for a similar Christmas present to the one I received last year (a stroke), but did treat myself to a little something:

Roxy is a medium size little bitch, cross breed, about 6 years old, in residence at the local  RSPCA kennels. She had been taken into care because her female owner had to seek sanctuary in a refuge centre where pets are not allowed. My wife and I spent some time with her and became good friends. The inspector came to look at her new home yesterday, pronounced it "ideal" and we pick her up on the 28th December. (It did not seem fair to take in a new dog until after Christmas day when we shall have about 8 people in the house).

She is a bit different from my previous, large/male GSDs, but I no longer have the physical/mental strength to control such dogs, who need strong owners otherwise they can "take over" and become pack leader.

I have had dogs in my life for over 50 years, but did wonder, when my last one was put down, whether I should get another, particularly after the stroke. But the wound of loss never quite heals over. Even after 18 months I still expect a dog to welcome me home as I open the front door.

 I was looking at dogs at rescue centres on the internet. Many appealed but  Roxy had something that said "take me please" so take her I shall. It may have had something to do with her colouring, reminding me of my last black and tan GSDs. It may have been the expression on her face. But my dog-friendly daughter (HHnB) has always maintained that " when the right dog needs you, it will find you".

May I wish you all  a very happy Christmas and a peaceful and healthy 2016.

HHnB or Daughter-in-Oz

Since a number of you seem to remember with affection "HHnB", sadly no longer blogging,
and RR comments about the second "H" (i.e. "Him" of Her, Him and Bryn) I shall risk her approbation and show the latest image I have of them. It was taken at his company's annual dinner, a light hearted event as the photo implies, and typical of relaxed Australia.

WINTER

I tend to change my blog-head image in line with the seasons. I like to reflect aspects of this "Little Corner of the Earth". Hence you will now find a snowy landscape looking towards the scarp which defines the limit of Romney Marsh.

I know, I know….the weather is at present pretty clement for December but in my book the winter months are December, January & February and that means snow. I quite enjoy snow, more so now I am retired and can choose when to enjoy it and when to leave it alone.

 I am 76 (very nearly 77) and I can only remember two white Christmases; that clichéd description of an event often described but seldom happening.

To be out in the snow by purpose is to become an adventurer, a lone individual. Motorcycling can be difficult in snow although I can remember, when young, some joyous occasions when it was done by choice. 

and others, when commuting to army camp, when my frozen, set knees would not let me get off the bike and sheets of ice fell from me!

But cycling, provided the roads are not iced can be most pleasant. Floating through an unpeopled, silent landscape. It’s good when you leave off, too. To sit somewhere, unhitch the flask of brandy-slugged coffee and perhaps the odd mince pie or two, gradually feeling warmth returning to frozen extremities as the liquid does its job.

My daughter, of old blog signature HHnB (now sadly no “B” as Bryn the Australian Blue Heeler succumbed to old age last year) and her husband are returning to the UK from Australia to spend a month with us over Christmas. She is so hoping for some snow. An English girl, she remembers snow with affection – even rain and mud will be a pleasure!

  

She copes (just about, with air con) in the Perth W.A. climate but always longs for British weather and this will be the first time in some 15 years that they have returned in winter. So we hope for a little of the white stuff to “please a lady”

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,

When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl

Tu-whit;

Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

"Anyone can do it......"

I had occasion to give the attic a clearout the other day and came across a battered, hard briefcase used before my retirement. As I picked it up it rattled. Inside were these:

They stirred memories of about 25 years ago. We were caravanning in one of my favourite areas - Wiltshire, the "cradle of the British race". One day my wife dropped me and the dog (the glorious Sabre) off so that I could walk the ancient track over the Pewsey Downs and across the fields down to Silbury Hill and the 5,000 year old cult centre of Avebury. As we walked we passed through the ancient hill-fort of Rybury Hill 

and I reflected that the track we were on must have been used by those original occupants to go down to  festivals at Avebury, just as we were that sunny day.

Eventually, as we approached Silbury we came to the prehistoric long barrow of West Kennet

 a burial chamber which, when excavated was found to be packed with dis-articulated skeletons of the ancient race which occupied the Avebury area. It is able to be accessed so dog and I went in to look around. I have a deep "sense of place" (the genius loci) and found the atmosphere affecting. But Sabre was absolutely fascinated and I could not get him away. Of course there may have been some dead animal tucked away in there but I like to think that dogs can feel things we don't.

       

This is all by way of introduction to the event which then took place. A small old lady was standing outside by the massive entrance stones and doing something with two metal rods that she held in her hands. I watched her whilst waiting for Sabre, then politely asked what she was doing. When she could see I was a genuine enquirer she explained that she was dowsing with rods and that when they encountered an "energy field" they would cross in her hands. "Try it", she said, "anyone can do it".

I did and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck when the rods crossed as I went between those entrance stones. She said that people spent a lot on dowsing rods but that she made hers from old metal coathangers. "It is the dowser, not the equipment that matters", she said

Well, I was sufficiently interested to make my own and had some success with them finding the courses of lost Roman roads and prospecting archeological sites. These were what I found it that old brief case the other day.

Why it works I don't know. How it works I have no idea. But work it does. I am not, nor ever have been, some "New Age" hippy, but will accept that there may be "more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosopy"

Dowsing seems to be in the news at present with Russell Crowe's new film, "The Water Diviner" so I thought this warranted a post.

BLOGGERS OF THE WORLD UNITE!

A fellow blogger of many years is Kay (older bloggers may remember her as "Chief Biscuit"), a published poet who lives on the South Island of New Zealand.

She has just posted a marvellous letter which seems to sum up the current state of blogging. Trouble is (Catch 22) it will only be read by active bloggers! See it here under her post "Keeping Track".

CARS. Or transport through the ages

Now that I am probably on the last car I shall ever own  I got around to thinking of the cars I have had in my life. Overall I suppose I have owned about 25 cars. I won't bore you with a complete list, but some are worth a mention for specific reasons.

Like first love a first car is always remembered. I was in the army, age 18, and needed transport to get home on weekend leave. My parents were against motorcycles and suggested an old car. This was the time of the Suez Canal crisis (1957) when petrol was scarce and learner drivers had special dispensation to drive unaccompanied. I found a 1934 Ford 8 Model "Y" for about £80. I applied for a driving test which was a disaster. The nearside passenger door had a faulty catch and was prone to fly open on corners. I wired it up and asked the examiner to enter from my side and swing himself over into the passenger seat (it would not be allowed these days). He looked a bit doubtful but did so. Of course the door misbehaved on the third right hand corner and flew open. The examiner stopped the test. I offered to take him back to the test centre, but he said he would prefer to walk!

It was an awful car, very hard to start. A case of pulling out the choke button, weighting the accelerator pedal with a brick (kept in it as essential kit), going around to the front, inserting and churning the starting handle and praying....
After a couple of months I was so fed up with it that I sold it at a loss (story of my subsequent car life) to a sergeant at my camp. I well remember seeing him being push-started by a bevy of squaddies and me hiding behind a building whilst he passed!

I then bought my first motorcycle and a life's passion was formed. But that's a different story.

Some years later, married with children, my first decent car was a Morris Minor Traveller (the famous "woodie")

Then came the first car of which I was proud (and have mentioned in an earlier post). A 1952 Austin A70 "Hereford"

I sold this and for some reason, which must have seemed good at the time, I bought a Morris Minor open tourer

actually this was probably the most fun I have ever had with a car. I fitted a klaxon horn (think the diving alarm on a submarine) and it was used as a family car, hood usually retracted, for about 3 years. Three children, a wife and a dog (under wife's legs in front seat) would cram in and off we would go to Cornwall. This was about 350 miles before motorways and involved a start at about 5.00 am with arrival at 5.00pm

The first car in which I managed 100 mph, overdrive engaged, on the Hog's Back dual carriageway, kids shouting "go for it dad", was a Rover 80 (the view down its long bonnet was magnificent)

My love affair with SAABs started soon after, initially with a "99" model of which I had three consecutively

Then came employer's lease cars, which were available to "essential users" at a reduced rental in return for taking a smaller mileage allowance  and I chose to lease a succession of Vauxhall Carlton estates with their comfort, vast capacity and ability to tow caravans well ( rear wheel drive) for about 20 years

Came retirement and still caravanning, we decided to try our first four-wheeled drive car a Nissan X Trail

for some reason I and every driver who tried it found it was most uncomfortable for our backs. So it was a return to the only car I have ever felt really comfortable in, the SAAB. To settle in and relax in one was wonderful and drives of over 600 miles in a day were possible and enjoyable. I had 3 SAAB "9-5" estates in succession.

Oh... and the worst car I ever owned? A very expensive Mercedes E200 Estate in which I needed 3 motorway stops between Kent and Gloucester to alleviate back ache. Sold at great financial loss after about 6 months

TOYOTA YARIS VERSO ("Does what it says on the tin")

If you look at a previous post you will see that it has become necessary for me to leave my beloved SAABs for something a tad different and to car aficionados, less.

Not so in my book. If one can anthropomorphize a car it seems to me like a small mongrel terrier, always ready and eager to please (if it had a tail it would wag it). It is not particularly economical on petrol, its small 1300 cc engine (auto gearbox) giving me about 37 miles to the gallon for the short runs I use it for (long gone are the days of runs like Germany and back in a day for which the SAAB was so eminently suited) and its high seating position is extremely comfortable with easy entrance and exit .

Riding large, heavy motorcycles (my life's love) is also currently no longer possible, but I find great relaxation and solace in my electric bike. One of the reasons for this car is the ease with which a cycle can be simply slotted down between the back seats with its low, easy-loading platform. The pedals need removing first but I have ordered some folding ones of the type fitted to folding bikes, which should obviate this need.

Sunday morning saw me load the ebike and drive about 5 miles down a boring, heavily trafficked road (potentially dangerous for cyclists too) to lovely autumn woods.

Once there it was a simple matter of unloading the bike to set off for a glorious morning's run through woodlands

 and down to the little village of Appledore and Miss Mollet's tea shop for toasted tea cakes with black currant jam and a cafetiere of excellent coffee.

Only about 15 miles cycling but a delightful way to spend an autumn morning.

JACARANDAS

When over in Australia visiting my daughter I was completely smitten with the blossoming Jacaranda trees (they also come in white). Not indigenous to Oz, they originally came from South Africa but enjoy the similar climate in Australia and have flourished.

Although they will not tolerate an English winter I was determined to try to grow one here. I picked up a seed pod underneath one near Perth, W.A.

Later on my daughter sent me a small wooden box with some of the seeds in it. Shades of The Lord of the Rings when Galadriel gives Sam a similar box:

"For you little gardener and lover of trees," she said to Sam, "I have only a small gift." She put into his hand a little box of plain grey wood, unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid."Here is set G for Galadriel, but also it may stand for garden in your tongue. In this box there is earth from my orchard.......there will be few gardens...that will bloom like your garden if you sprinkle this earth there. Then you may remember Gladriel and catch a glimpse of far off Lorien that you have only seen in our winter...."

Over the years I have planted seeds and nurtured a tree. It has to be "portable" since it must live indoors when the first frosts come. I have pruned it and steadily reduced the root size in the hope that it may "bonsai". The sorrow is that it will never blossom at such a small size, but it is a memory of Oz and my daughter.

WHAT ROAD SAFETY OFFICERS GET UP TO

For most of my working life I was a  Road Safety Officer. My work was mainly training and publicity, but some accident investigation was involved and I thought I would post the following report to show the types of thing we got up to:

The Highways Agency found over 200 dead crows on the M4 motorway near Bridgend and there was concern that they may have died from Avian Flu.

A Pathologist examined the remains of all the crows, and, to everyone's relief, confirmed the problem was NOT Avian Flu.

The cause of death appeared to be from vehicular impacts. However, during analysis it was noted that varying colours of paints appeared on the ...bird's beaks and claws. By analysing these paint residues it was found that 98% of the crows had been killed by impact with lorrys, while only 2% were killed by cars.

 The Agency then hired an Ornithological Behaviourist to determine if there was a cause for the disproportionate percentages of truck kills versus car kills. The Ornithological Behaviourist quickly concluded that when crows eat road kill, they always have a look­out crow to warn of danger. They discovered that while all the lookout crows could shout "Cah", not a single one could shout "Lorry"

Interesting.....................

ELEGY (?) IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD

A morning spent cleaning out the garage (it needed it). A pleasant afternoon meant I could take the e-bike out for some relaxation.

(Click on images to enlarge for more detail)

St. Rumswold Churchyard, Bonnington was a good destination for a short ride (about 12 miles) and a stop for coffee. It is a favourite spot, where one day (not too soon, I hope!) my ashes will be scattered. My seat there is courtesy of Steven Cross, in whose memory it was erected. The Robert Louis Stevenson quotation carved on the back is most apt, for an avid yachtsman. (Home is the sailor/Home from the sea)

Close by is his grave with an unusual "stone" made of good English oak. His wife Cynthia, a "passionate horsewoman", who died a bit later, is buried beside him in her own grave - not side by side, but with their memorials facing each other. Poignant. Both had short lives, I see.

The church stands on the boundary of Romney Marsh. It is the oldest in the area being first constructed in 796. It would once have been on the banks of the ancient river Limen which wound its way over the Marsh from its Channel estuary near Hythe and was probably a point for unshipping  goods for the old road northwards.

But the local topography is steeped it history. When Napoleon Bonaparte threatened invasion it was decided to construct a defensive Canal across the Marsh, feeding it from the local rivers which were diverted into it. The photograph below shows the old river Limen bed to the right at the field's edge with the later Military Canal running behind it through the trees.

Interestingly there is a relic of a later war, a machine gun observation post, when, in 1940 Hitler's armies again threatened this frontier of Kent.

A little afternoon meditation encapsulating history -  796, 1806, 1940 all from a country churchyard

SLIGHT ADJUSTMENTS TO MOTORING LIFESTYLE

I continue to make good progress after my stroke some 8 months ago, but have needed to make a few changes to my vehicles. A shame, but necessary.

Before the stroke I ran a rather nice SAAB 9-5 estate car 

however it had a manual gearbox and was a large and heavy beast (as well as fairly expensive to run).Also  I was not using it much since my second retirement, relying on my wife's small Kia Picanto, with her reluctant forbearance.

As my left leg is still weak as a result of the stroke I decided to look for a smaller automatic with a high driver's seat for ease of access. I wanted something where the back was adaptable into a "van" so that I could carry my e-bike to ride at places more distant from home. The result is as ugly as sin but meets all my parameters, the back seats collapse right into the floor with the advantage that, even with the seats up, with their centre part removed, you can just slot a bike down the middle between them (after removing the bike's pedals) and it simply stands there with no securing needed.

(for illustration only - mine's green!)

 A low mileage automatic Toyota Yaris Verso - not made since 2005 but sadly mourned by the cognoscenti ( and cheap too - a mere £2000):

It is an old man's car in my book, - my wife calls it the "Popemobile"!