chrisf

It was one of those showery days here yesterday. Look out of window - no rain. Open door - raining again, oh bother, do something else. Ah, it has stopped. Oh no it hasn't. One of the something elses was to book a place in the parade at Pride Cymru. I hope the other 15,000 marchers had a better experience with the webshite than I did. Fortunately I figured it out, but not before I had sent a message asking for help, followed swiftly by another saying that all was well after all. Oh dear. After yesterday's news reports I am so glad that I am not a frequent flyer. The impression gained is that some airlines have more trouble than others in finding the right sized aircraft and the right staff to fly them. One of those frequently mentioned in despatches had the task of flying me and the rest of the party from Gatwick to Mallorca and back. The outward flight should have been direct but a late cancellation put paid to that. Instead we went via Madrid where six less than interesting hours were spent at the airport. Experiences like that make me less than keen on flying. A young friend of mine reckons that flying is fun. Clearly he is easily amused. Chris

I managed to get into the jungle for about 45 minutes yesterday, between bouts of rainfall. Although a noticeabe impression was made, much remains to be done. There is still room in the green bin for unwanted greenery. Away from the jungle, I am concerned at not having heard from one particular friend since before Christmas. I thought that he might have been away travelling but if he is it is not with Ffestiniog Travel. If I knew exactly where in Theydon Bois he lives I would happily drive down and bang on his door. Right now I am hoping that he is still alive ... Chris

I found something interesting on BBC2 yesterday afternoon. "The Unnatural History of London" took a fascinating look at some of the animals and birds that may be found in the capital. I plan to take advantage of its availability on I-player to view it again. If there is one thing at which BBC TV excels it is coverage of wildlife, mostly but not always voiced by the incomparable Sir David Attenborough. For me, one of the highlights was the footage of pigeons riding on the Underground. I remember being amused, or possibly bemused, half a lifetime ago when I first saw for myself a pigeon boarding a Circle Line train at Edgware Road and alighting at Paddington. Was it looking for food, as the narrator of the programme suggested, or was it merely too lazy to fly? Someone is now going to tell me that I watch too much television: guilty as charged. Gentle readers may surmise that this programme was much more interesting than gardening would have been. Maybe the soil will be tilled today: maybe not. Chris

The good intentions regarding my garden yesterday were not fulfilled. Maybe today, if my lack of enthusiasm can be overcome? Chris

Once more to The Stables last night, this time for Oysterband. They have been around a long time and have attracted a collection of faithful followers since emerging from the ashes of Fiddlers Dram. Lo and behold, a new CD was on sale. The lady in the foyer dispensing them was convinced that she and I had met before. That could be true. It is an occupational hazard of Chris being Chris that I am greeted in a cheery fashion without my having a scooby who is greeting me. Once again I sat alongside the stage and once again the sound was unbalanced. I ensured thst none of the tickets for forthcoming concerts that I bought would have me sitting there again. It's back to the balcony for me in future. I did notice that the usual fulsome thanks from the band to the sound person were not given at the end of the performance. Afterwards I waited for ages but only five of the six band members came to the foyer to sign autographs. Shucks, it's better than nothing. This morning I will wait for some near neighbbour to go to work or the supermarket so that their parking space may be appropriated for my modest but travel-stained Polo. It is increasingly the case that I am lucky to find a parking space after an evening out. Last night I had to leave the car about as far from my house as it is possible to get without resorting to another street. Be philosophical, Chris: this way you get some exercise. Chris

It was bin day yesterday but those whose duty is to empty my recycling receptacle appeared not to notice it and it is still part full of recycling. Whether the whole street's bins were overlooked or just mine I know not. I do know that my street has a chronic shortage of car parking spaces, because it is the first street outside the controlled parking zone and no charge is made for parking spaces. I returned last night from a meeting in Stevenage to find but one space left. This morning I need to do a fodder run and will have to time it carefully so as to have somewhere to park on return. Tonight I will be attending a concert at The Stables - Oysterband, since you ask - and suspect that finding a space afterwards will not be easy. Oh, the joys of life in suburbia. Chris

"recoverydirect.com" is sufficently non-BT to reinforce my suspicions. It is a good case to mark as spam and block the sender, just in case it works [some hope]. Chris

Neither. Quel surpris ... Chris

My suspicious nature has kicked in this morning. My e-mail inbox contains what purports to be an e-mail from BT telling me that my direct debit is no longer active and inviting me to set up a new one. It does not address me by name but merely says "hello". A phone call to BT seems to be in order, but not using the number set out in the e-mail! Either that or ignore it, which is easier said than done. Things like that first thing in the morning are a ruddy nuisance. I had been feeling so pleased with myself for having got some m*d*ll*ng done. Oh well, the happy feeling was nice while it lasted. Chris

I would love to learn Welsh and wish I had done so when a lot younger. Any language where "moron" means "carrots" has a lot going for it. Chris

Oh dear. No sooner do I begin to plan a trip to London by rail for the first time in ages than the quaintly named "industrial action" rears its less than pretty head. Avoiding politics at all costs, I have to say that in all of my working life I never went on strike, for the simple reason that I would not have been paid if I had. Something tells me that those who rule us will turn out not to have been much help in resolving the situation. For the sake of the rail industry, all who work in it and all who use it I hope that reason will prevail. If not, let me see: ah yes, get up earlier, drive to Cockfosters and take the tube. Chris

I took a phone call yesterday evening from Barclays Bank. What the caller said did not make a great deal of sense so I had better pop into the branch this morning and seek a translation into English. With that and a necesssary fodder run, there may not be much opportunity for gardening today. My back will be pleased. More seriously, I need to rid myself of all aches and pains by the end of June so I will not need to take a walking stick on the Pride march! Easier said than done, methinks. Chris

It's Monday again. Already. What happened to the weekend? In my case, not a lot. There was no gardening yesterday, which may yet turn out to be a serious blunder. More seriously, I have allowed myself to run out of wheat germ. When I have some I sprinkle it over my cereal. In my extreme youth I knew it as Bemax. It was made then in a factory on the north bank of the Thames between Chiswick and Hammersmith. Any health giving properties it had were counteracted by the awful smell emanating from the factory which was difficult to avoid because the factory straddled the route of the cross-country run inflicted on all pupils of Latymer Upper School. For all I know it still does. Anyhow, buying a packet or two of wheat germ is top priority today. I ought to stride purposefully into Bedford to make the purchase, in the process trying to ensure that I will be fit enough to complete the Pride march on 2nd July. That date is closer than I think. I am hearing on the radio that the new Australian government has significant Green support. May this be good news for koalas. Chris

I've just played the track - a welcome distraction! There are references in the lyrics to the Queen - Anne [1702 - 1714], presumably - ordering fresh troops into the Continent, and to "wages for soldiers for Marlborough - Duke thereof, presumably - and me". They cannot predate those events but it is a fair bet that they originate in the first half of the 18th century. Chris

The sleeve of Strawhead's album "Late Bottled Vintage", one of several on which "Rochester Recruiting Sergeant" appears, suggests that the tune of "Waltzing Matilda" is attributed to Christina Macpherson after the Scottish traditional original "Craigielea". The lyrics in their current form date from 1970 but almost certainly originate from a date much closer to the events that they describe. Chris

Some time was spent in the jungle yesterday. The lawn received attention from the mower and a few of the many weeds were removed. Much - too much - remains to be done. The Radio Times led me astray in the afternoon and I enjoyed the original version of Whisky Galore on BBC2 much more than I would have enjoyed the horticultural drudgery - of which there may be more this morning. In my bedroom the rainbow boots have been rediscovered and await sustained test trudging before their forthcoming public appearance. Condolences to Pete and Flavio on the loss of canine companions. Chris

I would love to be surrounded by rainbow boots! It will be interesting to see how many other pairs will be worn on the march. Giving mine a test walk does sound like a good idea. I found them a few years ago in a shop in Covent Garden after much fruitless searching. The first pair I saw were in New Zealand. If my luggage had not been right on the weight limit I might have been tempted. Chris

I learned yesterday that I have a place in the parade at Pride in London on 2nd July. With about 40,000 other people I shall be marching from Hyde Park Corner to Trafalgar Square via Piccadilly Circus. I do hope it doesn't rain! Between now and then I need to study the list of do's and don'ts issued by Pride HQ [are those apostrophes in the right places?] but I did notice that nudity is not allowed. Not a problem! I am looking forward to this event, not least because it is high time my rainbow boots appeared in public again. Three years ago, when the march started at Broadcasting House, I was mildly amused to find that the boots were being photographed. Takes all sorts ... Chris

I enjoyed Belshazzars Feast in concert last night. The next outbreak of music is due to be Oysterband at The Stables a week today. Between now and then, what? Possibly some time in the garden, weather and aches'n'pains permitting, and possibly even some m*d*ll*ng, confidence permitting. Many people look upon Milton Keynes as a city. Hitherto they have been mistaken but not any more. There is news this morning that MK has been awarded city status. This is perhaps just as well given that it tends to overshadow Bedford. So does Luton, but as far as I know that large town has no ambitions to become a city. I remeember asking someone from the BBC why it was proposed to base a local radio station in Luton rather than Bedford. The response was: "Luton has a denser population". No comment! Chris

Ah, that's more like it. The internet is functional again, at least for now. The landline recovered quite soon after I reported the deafening silence with the aid of the mobile. It burst back into life with a call from Stalag Surgery. Someone there has noticed, after five years, that I am prescribed very expensive tablets for calcium deficiency and wants me to be tested at the hospital. My protestation that this is a matter for the oncologist was rebuffed. I see no reason for medics to fight over me. We shall see what the Prof has to say. Area Group lunch yesterday was very pleasant, with eight of us sitting in the pub garden under an awning and munching pub grub delicacies such as lamb shank. The conversation did not dwell overlong on m*d*l r**lw*ys but who cares? I brought along a bargain from the bring and buy stall at ExpoEM but no other specimens were produced. No doubt we will soon get the collective hang of show and tell once more. There is culture for Chris tonight. Belshazzars Feast, a folkie duo with heavy classical overtones, will be playing at a local venue. It appears to be a farewell tour but I do hope not. The latest brochure from The Stables has arrived, containing much to entice me. I'm not sure that I want to pay £33 for an incomplete Lindisfarne but the visit of Le Vent du Nord is already booked and the Chris Wood and Grace Petrie concerts soon will be! Andyram, the conduct of that delivery driver is reprehensible. The sooner his alleged managers are involved the better. Chris

BT must have been having a lie-in this morning, for at the ungodly hour when I usually post here my broadband was non-operational. It now appears to be firing on the usual number of cylinders. Today sees the monthly meeting of the Chilterns Area Group. For the first time for absolutely ages those attending will be meeting in person instead of via Zoom. Like all technology, Zoom has its moments. Nevertheless it was good to be able to use it to keep in touch with other Group members. Having lunch is that much more difficult when one is using software and a screen instead of wielding cutlery at a table. I shall have to buy petrol on my way to Harpenden: so be it. Now let us hope that the M1 behaves itself. Chris

It is so rare for professional footballers to come out as gay that Blackpool’s 17 year old Jake Daniels has hit the headlines. As someone who did not come out himself until the age of 70 I congratulate him for his courage and honesty. He is the first UK professional footballer to come out for 30 years. In that time public attitudes have become more accommodating. It is reassuring to learn that Jake’s team-mates are supportive given the stigma that can attach to gay men in sport. Something tells me that a good few other footballers are still keeping their big secret. We may not have to wait very long for the next announcement. On the subject of confidence I thank Polly for the kind and thoughtful words. Chris

Oh my, that is such a contrast to the breakfast I had at Toddington services on Saturday! I got the impression that if I had asked for a plate I would have been asked to go elsewhere. Chris

“Was that you at the Tom Robinson concert at The Stables?” asked one of the guys on the Brassmasters stand at ExpoEM. Yes, it was. The world can be remarkably small. Sadly my hope that there would be revelry on Saturday night in Bracknell was not fulfilled. If there was a gathering of kindred spirits in ‘Spoons I did not come across it. Plan B kicked in: yes, gentle reader, I ended up watching the Eurovision Song Contest in the seclusion of my room. Suffice it to say that IMHO the right song won and the UK entry deserved to do at least as well as it did. Reception on BBC1 was blotchy on Saturday night and non-existent until 7 am yesterday. Perhaps next year I will be able to stay somewhere with a more functional television. My journey home yesterday afternoon was not only wet but suffered from a constipated M3 and the usual unfavourable conditions on the M25 south of Heathrow. I have to admire the optimistic mindset of those who operate the warning signs which ordain a temporary speed limit of 40 mph in adverse conditions. Try 20, chaps: it is more likely to be attained. As some know, I have been suffering from confidence issues for a while. Among other irrational things they have got completely in the way of m*d*ll*ng since before lockdown. What I hope will turn out to be shrewd purchasing at ExpoEM’s second-hand stalls might just hold the key to the start of recovery. One of the possible outcomes that strikes fear into my heart is making a complete horlicks of something very expensive. If a bedtime drink is to be made of anything, let it be something inexpensive and not vital to the grand design. Should I be holding out hope that this will do the trick? Felicitations to Rick for his 65th orbit and a warm welcome back to Andyram Chris

There was something of a domestic emergency yesterday afternoon – Friday 13th, of course - when the TV remote went missing. By the time it turned up it was far too late for a meeting in town that I had been looking forward to attending. Never mind: if I tell those present next time they can have a jolly good laugh at my expense. Where, you ask, was the remote found? Why, down the back of the sofa of course. I doubt that there will be time for TV over the weekend. Today and tomorrow I shall be at Expo-EM in Bracknell. Eurovision is on TV tonight. As a gay man I am supposed to like Eurovision. Let’s just say that it has not grown on me yet. With any luck, this evening will be spent in revelry with like-minded souls in Wetherspoons. What could possibly go wrong? Chris