Jeremy Paxman vs Dizzee Rascal

The Spice of Life

Do you ever get that feeling that you’ve been bone idle for the past ten days or so, until someone reminds you just what you’ve achieved? I know, by my generally shattered state of being, that I’ve not been quite so lazy as I like to imagine; if anything, I’ve probably overdone it but, when one’s level of emotional and physical stamina is at the most one third of those distant pre-illness days, it’s far too easy to fall into that trap.

The paucity of blog postings has little to do with having nothing to say, more a case of not knowing where to begin or, even having sufficient emotional resource to make such a complicated decision.

The recent trip to Northampton, even though I spent much of the time resting, took more of a toll than I’d realized at first; so often these events catch up with one when it’s least expected! Still, they do say “variety is the spice of life”, in which case I’m a very lucky man; variety of the surprise kind must be even spicier than that of one’s chosen course of action!

Most of my activities have been garden and greenhouse related; assembling a “love seat” adjacent to the garden pond, building a small cairn of reclaimed stones, boulders, granite, sandstone and limestone, to provide a little haven for various insects and wee beasties in the wildlife end of the garden, as well as re-potting a few of the tomato plants. I’ve also lost track of the number of tomato plants we’ve given away. The fact that my beloved has been on holiday from work, and doing a splendid job of tackling some of the more tenacious weeds in borders and rockeries, has served as a splendid incentive for me to slightly expand my usual pottering about activities.

As I’ve been writing this, I’ve been somewhat distracted by a 35 minute commercial for the Spanish Tourist Board, on BBC1, under the title ‘Songs of Praise’. So now I know where not to go on holiday, to the Costa del Sol, as it seems to be primarily a community for British expatriates, a haven for golfers and visitors to zoos. The tourism promo was occasionally interrupted by hymn singing!

An Act of Exorcism

For Mal's view of 'The X-Factor goes Disco' visit Mal's Murmurings.

Malcolm's Travellers Tale

Once again, I've managed a weekend away and apart from a generalized fatigue and the usual aches I'm here to tell the tale!

24th March 2007

As we journey westwards, the day brightens and, once again I’m enraptured by the beauty on our doorstep as we traverse the dales and moorland. As we enter Lancashire, the roadside welcome sign is subtitled “Where Everyone Is Welcome”; I find myself wondering whether our return journey will witness a sign reading “Where No One Cares” as we re-enter God’s own county. The journey goes smoothly and, neither myself nor ma belle chauffeuse feel too exhausted by the effort.

Having signed in at the Travel Inn, my first impulse is to go and have a lie-down on the bed. After a brief rest, we look out of the window and see our friends Peter & Pamela have arrived at the nearby bar so, duty calls us to venture across and share a few glasses of vino before deciding on our evening meal. The conversation flows quite fluidly, after all, we’ve got a couple of years to catch up on since our previous meeting. That’s the beautiful thing about friendship, it’s almost as if the conversation continues from just the day before; an understanding of each others humour and situation makes things so much easier. Pamela and I are the experienced old crocks, Pamela having been a wheelchair user for many years now, although the image in my mind of her racing up fellsides, Peter and I breathlessly following, still seems fresh.

I’ve known the two P’s since university days and, Peter was best man when I married Helen seven brief years ago. Much as travelling disagrees with me, meeting up with old friends makes it most worthwhile. By the time we’ve had our meal, Pamela shows obvious signs of flagging so, we bid our adieus and, it’s not that much later when fatigue takes over for Helen and myself so, an early night is called for.


25th March 2007

To my surprise, we managed to make it down for breakfast in good time but, those old weary blues caught up with me by the time we’d ventured back to our room. A further lie down was called for and, this accounted for the rest of the morning (and early afternoon). By 2.00PM we were ready to head off to Peter & Pamela’s abode and, it wasn’t long before we ventured across to their wine cellar to select a bottle of bubbly. Conversation found its own direction and, we chatted about their Australian holiday as we looked at a few of the copious quantity of photos taken on that occasion as well as venturing down memory lane. For our meal we enjoyed one of Peter’s celebrated kipper and egg kedgerees accompanied by one of Tony Laithwaite’s Chilean Sauvignons. I declined the dessert, which the other three managed to demolish without my participation.

We arrived back at the hotel by 9.00PM, switched on the telly to watch what turned out to be a Jane Austen travesty, switched off the telly after about twenty minutes of this abhorrence and, decided it was time for an early night.


26th March 2007

Once more, this time slightly more of a struggle, made it down in time for breakfast then ventured back to the room where the need for rest was instantly apparent. I duly settled on the bed for forty winks but, when the staff came round to clean the room around 11.00AM I was sound asleep. Emerged from my slumbers at 11.30AM and we went out to sit and have a coffee on the benches outside of the bar whilst the necessary tasks were fulfilled by room service. Back to the room for a bit more rest and, I was just about alert by our friends arrived to direct us to their local, ‘The Hest Bank’. This proved a great opportunity to meet their friends, from Geriatrics Corner, much feted by both Peter and Pamela in their respective blogs. The most difficult decision for me to make, on this occasion, was that between ‘Black Sheep’, ‘Timothy Taylor’s Landlord’ or ‘Caledonian’. A couple of pints of ‘Black Sheep’ sufficed for me before we perused the menu. After an enjoyable meal, it was once more time to bid our farewells, an early night once more being a necessary part of our agenda.

Viewing Habits

Howling gales and lashing rain are, once again, the order of the day. Today, a degree of comfort is felt, a sense of gratitude that I have no need to venture out and face, in the flesh so to speak, these inhospitable elements!

The howling wind seems to possess many of the qualities of the talentless oiks, upgraded to the status of celebrity, by programmes like ‘Big Brother’; it makes a lot of noise and, its most noticeable effect is of a negative variety. The wind usually manages to blow itself out after a limited period of time, hopefully these ‘celebrities’ will follow suit. The big problem, for me, is to understand why anyone with a modicum of talent or intelligence should even consider subjecting themselves to this type of inane indignity?

I admit that I have never watched the aforementioned programme so, my understanding is based only on hearsay; hearsay is so potent that I have no desire to make amends for this omission in my viewing habits.

At least looking out, through a rain streaked windowpane, at our battered and windswept garden gives me something worthwhile to watch!