January Made Me Shiver

How bin ya? (As they say in these parts). Well I wish I could say that I've partied as much as the UK government or experienced as much adrenalin as Prince Andrew in the week since my last blog, but I can't.  The past seven days have bled into each other; a blur of work, eating, screen time, sleep and repeat.  

My sleep has been troubled this week and I've certainly had no need for an alarm call - a woodpecker has ensured that I've been wide awake by 6.30 every morning.  We sleep with the window open most evenings (Lotte's escape route, plus I like fresh air), so this has eased the sonic flow of woodpecker drilling into my ears.  Did you know that woodpeckers drill not just for insects, but to make their nests - essentially hollows in tree trunks?  Even more impressive, when you consider the impact of drilling wood on a Woodpecker's tiny bird skull, is the fact that many of their nests could easily accommodate a duck!

On the subject of birds, Robin's were always referred to as "red breasts" because the first recorded use of the word orange as a colour name in English was not until 1502 in a description of clothing purchased for Margaret Tudor.

I discover all of these little gems during nocturnal reading sessions.  

Winter has really delivered this week and courtesy of sleep deprivation, icy roads and a pressing deadline, I haven't gone far.  These photos were taken around 10 paces from our front door earlier in the week. 

I have also grappled with a rather weighty issue - my hair.  It probably needs a trim, but the length is giving me more versatility to try out new styles, like this twenties hairstyle (inspired by the forthcoming Peaky Blinders series and my love of the era's fashion), involving Dutch braids, a small plaited bun and multiple hair partings.

There!  Apart from my scruffs and the unglamorous bathroom selfies, I'm all ready for the new roaring twenties.

This week's additional screen time has largely been devoted to completing the script I've been working on.  

Last year I made a promise to myself to submit it to the annual BBC Writer's Room Open Call.  It's really been more of a challenge to myself; a case of "I've started, so I'll finish", rather than being borne out of any expectation of being identified as the next Jed Mercurio.  However, when I realised on the morning of yesterday's midday deadline that our internet was down, I confess to almost having a little cry.  A screenwriter on Twitter attempted to come to my aid, but fortunately, my prayers to the cyber gods were answered and at precisely 11.58 am I hit the SUBMIT button, spotted the acknowledgment drop into our inbox and promptly headed out into the mist of the National Trust managed Kinver Edge.  Talk about flying by the seat of your pants!

Thursday was quite simply magical.  The beguiling partnership of a hoar frost and rolling mist set the scene first thing, but unusually the mist didn't dissipate as the day worn on.  Instead, the sun broke through in spectacular style, sending sun beams from the heavens and shards of light in amongst the trees....

picking out pathways, foliage and spider's webs...

 ...and making it very difficult at times to distinguish tree trunks from shadows.  

We were so in awe of the ever changing landscape, 

that we spent around two hours soaking it all in and chatting with other walkers and photographers, marvelling at the vista,

until sunset.

And so, to this morning, 14th January, the day of my birthday and yet another wintry wonderland awaits...and a Covid positive test result for our son (but let's not dwell on the C word).  Here are a couple of shots from our glistening garden.  

It's also Dave Grohl's Birthday (Happy Birthday Dave!  I know you'll be reading) and  National Dress Up Your Pet Day.  I don't fancy my chances of separating Lotte from her pizza box, do you?

On this day in 1514, Pope Leo X issued a papal bull against slavery  and in 1978, the Sex Pistols performed their final show at Winterland, San Francisco.

And there ends the history lesson.

Hand on heart, I am really loving this season, but that's not to say I'm not looking forward.  Finally and tentatively, I feel like making plans in 2022 and the first date on the calendar so far this year is in May, the day I plan to run away with the circus - Giffords Circus to be precise.  It's an enchanting, nostalgia-steeped village green summer circus with a supermodel and rock star fan base.  We went a number of years ago and I've been desperate to return ever since.  This year, Vix and Jon will be joining us.  

Tickets aren't cheap, but they are worth every penny.  So if you find yourselves in the Cotswolds area from April to September, grab a ticket while you still can.  Here's the link   Giffords Circus | Experience the magic of Giffords Circus and brilliant artwork courtesy of Joseph Avery.

Hope you've had a good week.  See you soon!

Midsummer Magners

I'm going to start this blog post with the question on everyone's lips:  Where did summer go?  First Freedom Day is snatched from under our feet and now someone's turned the heating off.   

Here's me, getting ready for another Friday night in and planning what to wear for a weekend's outdoor trading with an ever changing forecast ranging from biblical to middling.

Yes, last weekend we were trading at the Mid Summer Mini & VW Bus Meet in our home town.  Naturally, the clouds gathered and the gods of wind got busy.  Mercifully, we had decided on a low key set up, treating the event as more of a PR occasion and deliberately selecting a few key items to add to our display.

People were desperate for human contact and there was a good turnout of campers on Saturday night.  Thankfully the sun made an appearance later in the day to greet them.  Soon, there was the sound of music (not the soprano nun type of music) and eau d'BBQ permeating the air.  Cider was consumed.  It was almost like old times.  Visitors were requested to take a lateral flow test prior to arrival, although, I was disappointed to discover that some elected not to.  This was particularly galling when you consider that some traders were so keen to do the right thing, that they had paid to take the gold star PCR test.  

I have to say I think the entire system is fundamentally flawed.  After getting used to twice weekly tests by virtue of being parents of a school age student, it seems ridiculous to me that to record the results of a test, you simply have to scan the QR code.  This does not provide evidence of a positive or negative result - that bit is down to the honesty of the individual recording it.  Am I alone in thinking that it's likely that there will be a large percentage of people wishing to cram into large events who might be tempted to report a negative test even if they are positive - particularly if they are symptom-free?  Maybe I'm a suspicious so and so, but judging by some of the conversations I overheard at the weekend, I'm genuinely worried at the level of resistance to vaccinations and continuing conspiracy theories.

 

Anyway, as promised, here are some photos of the classic Minis and VW buses that graced us with their presence.

Mini owners tend to lavish time and attention on their vehicles and the cars are usually in mint condition.  This one has been subject to the same level of care, but we loved the owners' bravery in embracing a slightly more "ratty" look, giving the Mini heaps of character.  We were thrilled to spot one of our logo stickers in the rear window.

This Beatles inspired Mini caught my eye with its Sgt Pepper roof rack.

Here's Hetty's owner huddled beneath the car's blanket in Sunday's Autumnal temperatures.

I have no idea what this is, but it was attracting plenty of attention.

I loved the little tea tray set up inside this Mini van.                        

Mr Bean was Covid compliant.

Spotted - a BMX enthusiast sporting one of our hoodies.

Pretty Minis all in a row.

And finally, my favourites - the seniors, aka VW split screens - living the dream.

Eventually I did get a little distracted by the poppies growing next to the spectator stand (the show's setting was the local Football/Rugby Club).

Incidentally, here's our lone poppy - delivered by the birds no doubt - and springing up in a crack between the stepping stones at the side of our house.

Ultimately the show was a success.  We sold well and my photos were shared by the British Mini Club.

In other news, I have discovered a way to make my morning coffee more exciting - a life hack of sorts.  I have been dairy free for a few years now and Alpro have introduced a new Barista soya milk, said to froth really well.  Sadly I don't have a posh coffee machine (I try to limit my intake of coffee to a couple of cups a day) or one of those little metal whisks/milk frothers (never had a need for one).  However, I purchased this milk out of curiosity and decided to decant some of it into an empty and freshly washed Mentos Gum container.  

A few shakes, which will also keep the Bingo wings at bay and hey presto!  Frothy coffee!  Now all I need is a curiously shaped stencil for the chocolate powder, or am I over-thinking this?

I'm also dipping into this book with a curious title.  

Save the cat?  Lotte needs saving from a life of unbridled luxury.

The one big lesson from the book so far is to nail the logline (or one line pitch for a story).  Here's mine in its current incarnation.  I'm always tinkering with it.  

"Spirited Shropshire lad Eddie, can't believe his luck when he cheats death in WW1 and returns home to live the rural idyll and sets about building his dream roadside garage, but fate has other ideas for Eddie, who is destined to live a big, eventful life in a small, nowhere town and has yet to face his biggest challenge."

What say you?  

Anyway, we're off to celebrate our wedding anniversary. Twenty years today!  There's a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge courtesy of my father-in-law.  Cider is more Gareth's thing.  Apparently, the traditional gift is china.  We don't usually bother with gifts, but I decided to look it up for once.  We will have to see if we can find something interesting on our travels.

Next week's post might be a little delayed as we're taking some time away.  See you all soon!

Lovejoy Meets Line of Duty and Other Stories

Last week was a tale of two halves.  

It was a fairly run-of-the-mill start to the week.  On Tuesday, I took Lotte the cat for her annual health check (I promise it gets better).  We have recently agreed to officially take her on as our cat. 

A brief history of Lotte (pronounced "Lottie").  Her mother lives a few doors down from us and Lotte and her two siblings belong to another family just a two minute walk from our house.  For whatever reason, Lotte was never keen on sharing her space with other non-humans and turned up unannounced at our back door around three years ago, in an apparently ravenous state.  She quickly mounted a charm offensive.  She was hugely affectionate, consumed three sachets of cat food straight off and made herself at home.  We assumed she was lost.

Once her belly was full, she tottered off again into the garden in the direction of the woods, but never seemed very far away.  Being a domestic long haired cat, she looked just a little bedraggled.  We've since discovered that it doesn't take long for that fur to start forming dreadlocks.  

This uncertain situation continued for a week or so until one day, Lotte arrived looking groomed to perfection and sporting a new collar.  The penny dropped.  We realised that this cat had a loving home.  I went on a more determined mission to locate her owner and tracked her down to a property in a neighbouring cul-de-sac.  

I kept in touch with her owner and we would compare notes on Lotte's whereabouts (usually our garden or sunbathing on the roof of the Rover P6).  Between us we tried just about everything to ensure that Lotte went home from time to time. We tried not feeding her or letting her into the house, but as we work from home, we were sitting ducks.  She could see us through the patio doors and would not stop calling until we let her in.

Her owner attempted to keep her in at night but this went down like a lead balloon.  Lotte would howl and scratch until, for the sake of sleep and sanity, the family let her out again.  During the summer months, with the bedroom windows open, it was not unusual for Lotte to suddenly appear in our bedroom in the middle of the night.  To this day, the bedroom window remains her go-to place to attempt to gain access when she fancies a change of scene at 2 am.  If it's closed, she will make herself known by mewing to be allowed entry.  She is a force of nature.

So she has effectively been our cat for the last three years (as much as anyone can "own" a cat), but last summer, she completely severed all ties with her previous owner, when they bought a dog.  Since then, we have fed and groomed her (with her owner's consent) and she now never ventures much further than our garden gate.  

We left the vet's £60.00 lighter and with a scraped car bumper.  I'm not having much luck with the car lately, but this time, I can't blame anyone else.  I reversed into the handrail support on the wheelchair ramp.  Just as well I was also working for part of the week! 

Despite our ever present feline, we do see a lot of birds in the garden.  Fortunately for them, Lotte spends much of her time sleeping in bushes.  She doesn't realise that the bird bath is where it's at.  The blackbirds love to bathe in it and the robins, sparrows and other small birds love drinking from it.  I may be a nature lover, but I do tend to charge up the garden when I see a pigeon anywhere in the vicinity, as they empty the thing whenever they attempt to take a bath (they barely fit!), which then necessitates long trips up the garden with the watering can.  They also love to emulate Jackson Pollock's style of art and decorate everything below their flight path.

The blackbirds continue to titivate their nest and our patio is continually strewn with bits of moss and twigs that they drop en route to their increasingly swanky pad.

Here's the lone pond skater I mentioned in my last post.  You can just about make him out in the centre of this photo.  

The action was confined to the latter part of the week.  Gareth found himself at the centre of an unfolding drama on Thursday.  After carrying out some minor work on the car, he decided to take it for a spin, heading to the very rural and very small Halfpenny Green Airport (now better known as Wolverhampton Business Airport).  

These photographs were taken recently in the surrounding fields where you can see remnants of the RAF's original aerodrome buildings.

The Airport Time Forgot - old portakabin

As he approached the airport car park, he was surprised to see a number of police riot vans and several unmarked cars parked in nearby lanes.  The closer he got, the more vehicular activity there was.  He decided to call into the Antiques Centre on site, but Claire, the business owner, was at this point oblivious to the police activity. 

 As they chatted, yet more police cars and vans arrived, bringing armed police officers and an air of clear and present danger to this tranquil scene.  Gareth counted around a dozen police vehicles and at least 50 armed officers.  Within minutes, two had approached the Antiques Centre and advised Claire to lock herself and the other three occupants (including Gareth) inside as there was a dangerous criminal at large.  It was Lovejoy meets Line of Duty!  

Not Inspector Morse, but close

After 40 minutes in a building without a mobile phone signal, Gareth, somewhat rashly, decided to make a break for it and headed home.  As he left the airport, another police vehicle sped past him and the occupants of the numerous parked were rubber necking - staring at him intently as he drove past.  Mercifully, there was no hot pursuit; they clearly knew who they were looking for.

Bizarrely, there has been no reference to any of this on the local news or in the press.  Should we be worried?  With the airport only being a few short miles away, we've been double checking that our doors are locked and sorry Lotte, but the bedroom window's staying closed for now.

I called Claire on Friday morning and she confirmed that the airport had indeed been put into lockdown on Thursday afternoon (she and her customers being the last to know) and in the absence of any other instructions, technically, Gareth should still be there now!  The police are continuing to look for their "perp." It seems that so far, it remains mission impossible.

It's taken AC-12 10 years and they are still struggling to identify "H".  Halfpenny Green airport was originally called Bobbington Airport, but the name was changed to avoid confusion with RAF Bovingdon in Hertfordshire.  "H" for "Halfpenny Green."  Am I onto something?

I'll leave you with some bright and cheerful weekend images of local rapeseed, including one featuring an incongruous red chair.  Why it's there is yet another mystery.

Have a good week!