The Veg' Patch.

I cannot tell you how much I miss Haddock's; my old vegetable garden. Especially at the moment which is the beginning of the growing season.

It not only grew all our vegetables, but it also had a huge Fig tree, an Apple tree, a Plum tree, a Cherry tree, a large patch of Globe Artichokes, Tayberries, red and black Currants, and various Vines. It was only a smallish area, but it produced all we needed.

A Veg' garden requires constant attention. Weeds must be tackled daily, watering must be regular, and a strict rotation scheme adhered to.

I didn't attempt to grow anything too exotic, just the basic vegetables that we used on a daily basis. Many of these would be stored and saw us through to the next year's crop. Any non-lasting vegs would be bottled or frozen.  

The satisfaction one receives from successfully growing one's own food is almost second to none. Good critical reviews from an exhibition is up there with the Tomatoes or Aubergines, but that basket-full of fresh, straight from the garden, fruit and vegetables, beats all.  

Something went awry with Haddock's about 6 years ago. My crops suddenly started to fail. My neighbour, slightly above Haddock's, had invited all his builder friends to dump 'hardcore' to build-up an area to make a parking space. I noticed very quickly that they were dumping a lot more than hardcore, and I think much of it must have seeped down, through the dividing wall, and into Haddock's; poisoning the soil. There was nothing I could do but abandon my growing. Maybe in years to come it will have healed itself. We'll see!

Last year I did manage to grow a few Courgettes, and I'll try again this year. I now have a Polytunnel, so maybe I'll put them in there.

Haddock's had always been the vegetable garden of our 300 year old cottage, and it's a shame to see it no longer used.

 

Finding the right model.

Lady Magnon has an iPad; quite an old one. It works perfectly, does all she asks of it, but the cover has finally fallen to bits. In fact it's currently held together with masking tape.

Two years ago I ordered a new cover from Amazon; it was far too big. Then one year ago I ordered another from Amazon; it was (annoyingly) just a fraction too small. Recently Lady M bought another one herself which was just plain rubbish and fell to bits. So, I have yet again thrown caution to the winds, crossed my fingers, and ordered a FORTH (FOURTH) one. I checked all the model's numbers etc, and between us we decided that the model I'd ordered HAD to be the right one.

The new cover arrived yesterday, and amazingly it fits perfectly.

We danced, we sang, we opened Champagne. I have finally managed to buy a cover that fits! Whoopee.

So, it's the end of a saga. It probably all sounds rather ridiculous that two apparently normally intelligent humans can't order a bloody cover for an iPad, but we followed all the rules, and the internet simply ganged-up against us. Thank goodness the saga is over..... More Champagne!!!

Has it really come to this???

Imagine the situation. You are a perfectly well-behaved citizen who has just left a place of worship (a synagogue), and you are on your way walking home.

PC Plod then confronts you as looking 'quite openly Jewish', and, because there is a pro-Hamas demo nearby, he threatens to arrest you.

UNBELIEVEABLE! If that wasn't an outright display of institutional racism; I don't know what was. PC Plod himself should be arrested at once, and booted out of The Met. His behaviour was disgusting, and has no place in British policing.

Plod's number is NW 377. Sir Mark Rowley (Boss of The Met), if you're reading this, please note!

p.s. I now read that the gentleman involved, Gideon Falter, has called for Sir Mark Rowley himself to resign! Well, why not, if he's employing racist coppers such as PC NW 377.

Central London has almost become a 'Jew Free Zone' in recent months, but now it is becoming a 'Police Enforced Jew Free Zone'. Does that remind you of anything? 

 

Patricia Preece.

Lady M went to Lewes recently to see an exhibition, which included works by Patricia Preece.

Most of us will know of Preece as the second wife of Stanley Spencer. She was his 'muse', and he painted several pictures of her (one below). They married in 1937.

As with many members of the Bloomsbury Group, her love-life was complicated. Preece was what used to be called 'a shirt and tie job'; but what we would now call a member of the LGBTQ community.

After her marriage to Spencer, Preece and her lover Dorothy Hepworth went on 'honeymoon' together, to St Ives, whist Spencer himself stayed at home; bizarre. During their time away, Spencer's first wife, Hilda Carline, visited him, and he attempted to establish a three way marriage. When Preece returned home she learned of his infidelity, and refused to have anything more to do with him; other than to fleece him of all his money. Just another everyday story of life amongst Bloomsbury folk.

I have always known about the family's strange arrangements, but what I didn't know was that most of the paintings attributed to Preece were in fact painted by Hepworth, onto which Preece would put her signature.

This photo (above) shows Dorothy Hepworth with Patricia Preece and Stanley Spencer on their wedding day; Preece in an Ascot style hat, and Spencer with what looks like a sodden dish-cloth on his head. I also note that he didn't bother to polish his shoes for the wedding.

A strange bunch.

Some nearby sights

Brighton isn't just The Royal Pavilion, The Lanes, and The Pier, just outside of Brighton, on the other side of The Downs, are all sorts of treasures, including The Long Man of Wilmington, a beautiful chalk carved image of a man with two long poles (below). 

There is the lovely small town of Lewes (our county town) famous for its annual Nov 5th bonfire, there is Charleston Farmhouse (the country home of Bloomsbury), and Glorious Goodwood (motor and horse racing, etc).

All Brits want to believe that they live in the very best corner of the UK, but here we make no such claims. Even our Sussex made cheeses (as Belloc tells us) are simply called 'Cheese'.

For Horse lovers we have Brighton racecourse, and Hickstead the world-wide home of Jumping, etc. For other sports fans we have Brighton and Hove Albion Football Club, Sussex County Cricket Club, and even a Greyhound racing arena in Hove.

Antiques aficionados will know of The Repair Shop which is filmed here, and we have the biggest Roman villa in Europe at Fishbourne.

There are castles galore, plenty of stately homes to visit, and some really spectacular landscapes. 

And I mustn't forget all those wonderful little pubs hidden away in tiny villages. Try The Shepherd and Dog at Fulking. Perfect.

So, I can hear you asking, is there any down side to living in Sussex? Well, yes, I'm afraid there is! We have a pair of numpties who claim to be the Duke and Duchess of this lovely county of ours. They don't live here, they weren't born here, and, I'm not certain, but I don't think they've even visited here. They were simply given their titles as a gift, without any consultation of the genuine citizens of Sussex. Lady M and I are more worthy of the titles than they are, and even we aren't worthy of them!

 

Demos.

Weekends in Brighton means the obligatory demonstration or two. They're usually pretty poorly attended, with lot of repetitive shouting and drumming, with the little darlings standing on the corner of some main street, to an audience of zero.

What do we want?

Free money!

When do we want it?

NOW!

Of course at the moment there are pro-Hamas demos, train drivers demos, pro-soup and anti-paintings demos, anarchy demo's, and good old lets lie down in the road demos.  

What do we want?

Anarchy!

When do we want it?

When we can no longer vote for it!

I've only attended one demo in my life and that was when I was a student; I can't even remember what we were demonstrating about. We all went up to town by coach, then when we arrived close to Westminster Abbey, a Communist Party member was handing out irrelevant political placards to everybody as they left the bus. Some fellow students took hold of them without even looking; I told the Commie to get lost. We decided at once that the demonstration had been hijacked, so we went to The Tate instead.

What do we want?

Can't remember!

When do we want it? 

Gawd only knows!

 

A Male Identifying As Female Dominates Girls In A 200 m race.

Don't bother watching this video for more than 30 seconds. Those first 30 seconds tells you everything about how ridiculous the current 'trans' sports regulations have become.

OK, many sports are taking action against congenital males taking part in female sports, but it still happens, and this trans-woman is a perfect example.

His/her name is Aayden Gallagher, and he/she has the cheek to enter into female athletics sports. It doesn't take a sports expert to see that this is just plain stupid.

I know I've been going-on about this for years, but it really should have been stopped by now.

Simply get a trans-male (i.e. female to male) to enter into an all-male athletic race, and you'll soon see how silly it is!