Gwiwer

I agree. I know they were 5-bay open vehicles. A type we have not had in RtR as mentioned above. But for those not overly bothered about total accuracy a passable representation could be made from a BCK unless your stock is subject to very close scrutiny.

That one was only sitting there long enough because I had to cook the other. One egg makes two. You can't use half an egg. I thought the pan-seared half-lemon was a nice touch. It tasted pretty good.

I tried. I fried. I enjoyed.

That would be Mrs Bucket then. Oh yes, so it is. I must get the trying-pan out and try to pancake.

I have heard those referred to as a "Say-coe" by people who should know better but might be wary of sensibilities among mixed company. Which by a curious turn of events returns me to school days when we had a "supply" music teacher for a term who went by the name of Mr. Peacock. Yes, you've guessed it. He was "Mr. Pay-coe". Along with the history teacher who was "Mr. Hoe-flay" - but it was spelled Horseflesh. And of the sea. Well it was fairly lumpy on watch this morning. Wind WSW 5 - 6, visibility 2 (nautical) miles, sea Moderate - Rough, swell Moderate. I made my first (supervised) entries in the log which included the Isles of Scilly freighter and a supertanker headed north. Sorry - heading 359. Next watch is Friday morning. Next muggercoffy is right now.

Good morning. Welcome to Cheeseday. Predictably the weather is wet and windy for my first watch. I’ll be well-soaked before I get anywhere near the radar and binoculars. I’ll try not to drip over the log book. Stay safe.

I was dropping Dr SWMBO at the station, following which I drove to the G****n C****e to collect some lawn dressing and grass seed Don’t you hate it when there’s a lane closed on the dual-carriageway (the only one we have) and the speed limit is 30mph not 70mph yet not a single worker was in sight nor was there any evidence of any work of any kind. Just a coned-off lane and a long queue of slow traffic. I had ordered “click & collect” from the GC. The staff there knew nothing about it. I showed them my confirmation emails and payment so they had a look “in the system”. Sure enough. There was my order. At the right location. And “due to be picked for collection on 27th April”. WHAT??? They were most put out that I expected it to be ready and waiting for collection. Instead of being helpful they pointed me in the direction of all the pallet-loads of sacks, various, and suggested if I wanted it today I should take it myself. So I did. After that grumpy little episode I drove home the scenic way along the north coast and into the setting sun. Which was nice.

Indeed. But my point was that this was a down train swapping to diesel. Even if it had lost time being looped through the station it failed to regain that time and lost a little more.

I am watching 1C76 which forms 1A90 later on that Dr. SWMBO requires. The slow-down at Newbury as it switched to diesel is typical and a dreadful indictment of these units' performance. And, by extension, of Hitachi's performance.

We remember that event. Being holders of UK Food Hygiene Certificates the risk is something we are always aware of when buying and serving fresh fruit. It's there with other fresh foods too but many of those would be served cooked which can in some cases lessen the risk. We were always taught never to refrigerate leftover rice and return to it another day. I don't mean "takeaway" rice but the stuff one normally buys dried and cooks at home. Eat it or bin it was the rule. Other high-risk items are tinned foods when part is used and the tin is then popped into the fridge for "later"; tomatoes are the worst offenders. Decant into an inert container such as a glass dish which has a well-fitting glass lid and keep for no more than 24 hours. To this day, having not been in a job where we serve food to customers for over 25 years, I am still assiduous with the "layering" of our fridge. Raw meat always and only on the bottom shelf. Dairy in the door. Veg in one crispa box (if it must be chilled at all), salads in the other. Opened jars etc at the top and short-life items such as cooked meal leftovers in the middle. Everything which we cook and freeze is labelled with its contents and "frozen on" date. All raw food is washed before use unless that would spoil it; I don't wash bread! Simple precautions. No-one is immune from food poisoning and sadly it can be lethal but we can all take good care of ourselves and of others we share with.

Is the chandelier about to fall? Or have the paratroopers arrived via the ceiling? Why is the woman in the dark red dress, and her male companion, gazing upwards so intently

This morning's post seems to have vanished into the dark matter of cyberspace. May I repeat my greetings for Moanday, Bin-day and what ever else it is for you and wish you all the best. It is make-data-readable day here with the book and there's a lot of other "paperwork" to be done for clubs, various and in pursuit of my pension funds. But first it's Muggercoffy.

The CFA has long stood accused of being a “boy’s club” In fairness the same accusation is levelled at the UK fire service where many brigades now include female firefighters. So while underhand and divisive it’s not a unique problem. What differs in Australia is the pride with which the (mostly male half of the) community join up to protect themselves and others. It is a way of life more than a career choice. CFA is a volunteer fire-fighting force with only a handful of busy stations employing full-time fireys on a watch system. I noted that our local CFAs in Frankston (a paid force), Langwarrin and Cranbourne never had women in uniform. The women’s job was to bake lamingtons and serve teas for the fund-raising events. But don’t go near nor serve the BBQ; that was a males-only area

In the very long term I have benefitted. Because all the force-feeding (of lunches, lessons, bullying and abuse) has probably shaped me into a patient, empathetic and calm person. It’s only taken half a century. If I had been able to test for Asperger’s in my school years I may well have qualified for some form of “special schooling”. Would that have changed anything? My three nephews all went through that system with the elder two able to join mainstream education at Sixth Form level. The youngest never did. None has much in the way of academic qualifications but all have benefitted greatly from the personal attention they got in very small classes and the vocational training their school excelled in. Instead I struggled to get the bare minimum of O and A levels required for university, achieved a BSc (Hons) - the only member of my family ever to graduate - but was at all times thought of as “a bit weird” and not befriended by anyone much. Uni was a bit better than school but the only friends I remain in contact with from those days are two lads I met in Sixth Form when they transferred in from other schools and two girls both of whom I got to know as friends of my sister and both of whom I dated early on. At different times! And there is one chap I met way back in Primary School with whom I am still good friends 60 years on.

Probably true for Australia which doesn’t have the Traveller population many European and British nations do. If you want to find a dodgy scrappie look no further than the nearest site. Not all Travellers are dodgy nor scrappies. Few enough will deal beyond their own communities and trusted friends. And not all dodgy scrappies are Travellers although it is known (including by police) that many are. The legit ones mostly now hold the required licences and won’t get far without them. I lived and worked closely with a local Traveller community for several years. I became friends with their leaders and was able, in their company, to enter their site unchallenged. We got as far as sharing meals together; they never came into my home which was a share-house but we would sit outside, eat takeaway and talk. They smoked; they always offered me and I always respectfully declined. Producing the asthma inhaler avoided any diplomatic incidents! I knew their trades. I knew to ask no questions. And they came to know that I would neither tell anyone beyond their community nor betray their trust. An awful lot of scrap metal came and went from that site.

Well yes. A cut-and-shut using BSK and TSO interiors would be close.

Text by Me Gagg 🤮 Somehow apt in the light of our school dining experienced

And now they wonder why cod is in short supply. All the cod-balls were harvested and frozen around 55 years ago

Far from it. The custard would remain firmly in the bowl - and would ensure what ever it was served with also stayed put - when inverted. As was proven by the aforementioned Dinner Ladies from time to time when they threatened to transfer the contents of the bowl onto the head of a protesting child who refused to eat the stuff. That seemed to be a pre-requisite for being a teacher. A crack-shot with the board-rubber, wooden side first, was well within the capabilities of most of our lot. Among other things were the maths teacher who openly vented his foul temper and was finally “spoken to” after he threw a pair of dividers across the room stabbing a child’s hand as they landed. And the Latin master (who would always sharply correct you if called a “teacher” with “Ego sum dominus non magister” and would prowl his classroom carrying a pile of textbooks. These he thumped down with force upon the head of anyone failing to learn or having failed to score 100% for their assessed homework The art teacher who was ex-military and ran the school Combined Cadet Force until it was disbanded. He then advised me “Boy - you are a ham-fisted clot with a pencil. God help you if you ever pick up a paint brush. Never darken my classroom again”. The Head of Games who took an unhealthy delight in slippering the bare behinds of any young boy with anything less than perfect kit. Or for any other trumped-up misdemeanour. And the metal-work teacher who started by throwing rivets at you and ended up embedding a lump of mild steel in a boy’s head. He kept his job despite that. School days the best? Not on your nelly.

Which occasionally resulted in protests at the table and / or abrupt returns during a subsequent class. Food intolerances were less well understood in those days and there was a certain species who patrolled the dining room with iron gaze, sharp tongue and mouth the size of the channel tunnel. “You WILL eat it, Smith, or you will see the Headmaster” would be bellowed for all to hear. Dinner Ladies, we called them. To be feared even more than the Evil Janitor.

Dr SWMBO decided she would take her morning swim at the Country Club tonight having missed the window of opportunity this morning. I drove her down because it’s a narrow twisting lane and she’s not a confident night driver. The plan was to then drive back, collect fish & chips and enjoy the evening. She reported having not much enjoyed the swim. She is often on her own, not surprisingly, when they open at 8am. Tonight she had for company what she described as “four unpleasant teenagers” (two of each flavour) who she discovered were using the spa for baby-making practice before donning minimal attire, “bombing” and generally being obnoxious in the pool. They all made unnecessary and hurtful comments about her age and size then pressed her for a “loan” of shampoo and gel in the showers. As she declined she received more of their mother-tongue. I suggested she notify the Club management. The pool being private is not continually supervised nor lifeguarded so events might otherwise escape notice. We drove up to town to find the fish & chip shop closed when it should have been open. The only other takeaway is the Chinese. Being Chinese New Year (and the only takeaway open, and it being 7pm) there was a queue into the street. At the head of the queue was a coach driver awaiting his order ….. for himself and 34 passengers!!! Once that was sorted the staff were commendably fast at getting food out. They always are. And there are only three of them. Not fish & chips and quite a wait but it was good enough And I managed a few last-light pictures while nothing else was happening

Me too!!! Disgusterous objects which the Aussies seem to enjoy. Likewise those ridiculous little yellow squashes that turn up on roasts and at takeaway food stalls. Bland, tasteless (even when buttered / seasoned) and like eating a mouthful of cotton wool in my opinion. But Dr SWMBO, who has grown up eating pumpkins, enjoys them. She misses the Aussie ones; most which are sold here are for decorative use rather than eating. We do occasionally find a farm shop selling edible varieties which are then roasted. Anything left over is souped. She also grew up eating Vegemite for which I have now forgiven her. Largely because she converted to Marmite. Give me a good roast parsnip any day. You can keep your tasteless and hard-to-cut lumpkins.

Daffodils or the other things? 🤣

Daffing nicely here too. Ours are some sort of dwarf variety. We don’t know what’s planted until it grows and shows. First-year garden y’know. In other news the weather has been akin to a zebra crossing; black and white stripes. Fierce downpours followed by bright sunlight. The overnight wind has eased and it’s quite warm for Feb-brewery. Dr SWMBO was dropped in town to attend a talk after lunch. In the 90 minutes wait until she was done I grabbed a Costa coffee (and a cake) then wandered into Mountain Warehouse. Finding they had a half-price sale AND an extra 20% off at the till I came out with several pairs of spare boot and shoe laces, several pairs of calf-high hiking socks and a rather nice green check shirt. All for £24. The ethics or otherwise of having all the major stores out of town and virtually inaccessible by public transport, also of selling cheap clothing made (in this case) in Bangladesh where workers are probably paid very poorly and work in dreadful conditions is not lost on me. But that’s where the world is in 2024. I could go to M&S and maybe buy British there (but probably not) for an extra 16 miles of fuel burned. And they don’t sell real “outdoor gear”. A few of these things are still running. Here seen awaiting departure for Plymouth as more “weather” flung itself down.

What about a replacement interior? The purists will shudder but it’s perfectly possible to paint a red line over one window bay and add “Buffet” and Sc90xx decals to a Bachmann product.