We live our lives forever taking leave - Rilke
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Thursday, 8 November 2018
Tuesday, November 6/2018
Monday, November 5/2018
Sunday, November 4/2018
Up before dawn for the annual London to Brighton Veteran Car Run. There are over 400 cars, all pre 1905 and little as we like the 6 AM alarm, by the time we reach Bayswater Road we can feel the excitement. Some owners have stayed at nearby hotels and will drive the short distance to the Hyde Park starting point. We can hear the cars before we see them in the semi-dark, many with the put-put of one or two cylinders and some so old they don’t possess running lights. A little dangerous along a main road, but it’s pretty early on a Sunday for general traffic, and the buses and taxis will be aware of the rally. The pre-dawn sky is streaked with coral, reflected in the calm water of the Serpentine where swans and ducks are swimming.
The cars are still lining up as we arrive, with the oldest (1896) starting first - it’s not a race, and any car completing the journey in four hours is deemed to have had a successful run. No two cars alike, some with well known names, like Oldsmobile or Renault, and others made by firms long since disappeared. A number are so basic they raise the question of what the criteria are for qualifying as an automobile - barely more than a rectangle of wood with a steering lever and no transmission. But there are four cylinder cars, steam powered cars, even a man riding an old penny farthing bicycle, though no pretence that that is a car. Some hold only the driver, or may have one passenger seated behind- or in some cases in front of - the driver. Wicker baskets, wooden trunks, or holders for bouquets of flowers are often attached to the rear, a clue to the North American use of “trunk” for what the British would term the boot. A purist might prefer the cars in (presumably original) black, but those sporting shiny red blue and yellow paint are pretty cheerful. As are the drivers and passengers in period costume. Not cold today, which is good, because few of the cars offer much protection. The first car leaves at 6:59, and it takes about an hour to get them all underway. And this year they all succeed in getting started, albeit with a little last minute hand cranking, so no disappointed drivers unable to take part after bringing their vintage vehicles from as far away as Australia.
Saturday, November 3/2018
Friday, November 2/2018
Thursday, November 1/2018
Wednesday, October 31/2018
Thursday, 1 November 2018
Tuesday, 30 October, 2018
Monday, 29 October 2018
Wednesday, 18 April 2018
Friday, 13 April 2018
Thursday, April 12/2018
Wednesday, April 11/2018
Tuesday, April 10/2018
Monday, April 9/2018
Monday, 9 April 2018
Sunday, April 8/2018
Saturday, April 7/2018
Friday, April 6/2018
Thursday, April 5/2018
Wednesday, April 4/2018
Tuesday, April 3/2018
Tuesday, 3 April 2018
Monday, April 2/2018
Sunday, April 1/2018
Sunday, 1 April 2018
Friday, March 30/2018
Friday, 30 March 2018
Thursday, March 29/2018
Wednesday, March 28/20018
Tuesday, March 27/2018
Wednesday, 28 March 2018
Monday, March 26/2018
Sunday, March 25/2018
Sunday, 25 March 2018
Saturday, March 24/2018
Friday, March 23/2018
Friday, 23 March 2018
Thursday, March 22/2018
Thursday, 22 March 2018
Wednesday, March 21/2018
Wednesday, 21 March 2018
Tuesday, March 20/2018
Tuesday, 20 March 2018
Monday, March 19/2018
Monday, 19 March 2018
Sunday, March 18/2018
Saturday, March 17/2018 🍀
Saturday, 17 March 2018
Friday, March 16/2018
Thursday, March 15/2018
Thursday, 15 March 2018
Wednesday, March 14/2018
Tuesday, March 13/2018
Wednesday, 14 March 2018
Monday, March 12/2018
Tuesday, 13 March 2018
Sunday, March 11/2018
Sunday lunch at Cambanella’s. The bus, as usual, gets us there a few minutes early, so we take a walk around a field, where it turns out the poppies are just appearing. Spurs discussion between J and me about whether I prefer British or Canadian Remembrance Day poppies. And I’m torn. Initially, British poppies looked faded and a bit drab to me. But they’re a lot more like real poppies in colour. Canadian ones have the virtue of being what I grew up with, but they’re too crimson, and I’m starting to regard the velvety texture combined with the brilliant colour as a bit vulgar - kind of Elvis in gold paint on black velvet. But the ones in the field are lovely.
After lunch over to a small freshwater pool - actually where the drainage ditches empty with water from the fields. Moorhens not in evidence, but a still egret poised watching the fish. And some of the fish are surprisingly large - perhaps eighteen inches - as they surface in the murky water to take the bread J throws them. It’s just metres away from the walkway along the sea. A fresh water lagoon.
Sunday, 11 March 2018
Saturday, March 10/2018
Saturday, 10 March 2018
Friday, March 9/2018
Thursday, March 8/2018
Thursday, 8 March 2018
Wednesday, March 7/2018
Wednesday, 7 March 2018
Tuesday, March 6/2018
Monday, March 5/2018
Sunday, March 4/2018
Tuesday, 6 March 2018
Saturday, March 3/2018
Caption in today’s Cyprus Mail reads “Man arrested illegally entering Republic by jumping off wall “. The man was a Kurd and had obviously landed, by air or more likely sea, in the North - where he would probably have been made more welcome. Although as far as the Republic (the South) is concerned any landing in the North is illegal. However, for whatever reason, he chose to enter the South by jumping from the old Venetian walls, exiting via a small park atop the wall in broad daylight at 2:30 in the afternoon. Unsubtle enough to make one wonder about his mental state, although if he intended to apply for asylum or assistance he would have had questioning to face anyway. And jumped is undoubtedly an overly dramatic way of putting it - scrambled more likely.
We remember being in that park looking down, on the only visit when we ourselves entered illegally (from the point of view of the South), taking the ferry from Turkey to Kyrenia. It was a very odd feeling going to Nicosia and looking down on the South where we had stayed the previous month, barred from entry. The border is much freer now than it was in 2001, but only non-EU tourists who land in the South can cross freely from North to South. And yes, they would know. Your passport would give you away.
Saturday, 3 March 2018
Friday, March 2/2018
The memory of that episode returned to me while watching Theresa May give her big Brexit speech at Mansion House today. The speech was praised in some quarters for being serious and, by the standards of her government, pretty detailed. The main takeaway was that the prime minister had finally bidden farewell to “cakeism”, admitting that we couldn’t both leave the single market and have unchanged access to it. “Life is going to be different,” she warned.
But the speech also suggested that Brexit could end up rather like my strop at Little Chef. We would put ourselves and the rest of Europe through a great ordeal, only to end up with an arrangement rather like the one we could have had anyway, all for the sake of feeling in control. Except that, in this case, the end result would be both inferior to, and much more costly than, the dish originally on offer.'
Indeed.
Thursday, March 1/2018
Thursday, 1 March 2018
Wednesday, February 28/2018
She: (apologetically) I really should be vegetarian, but I’m too weak.
He: Oh, the problem is people eat too early. I never eat anything after five o’clock. I eat a big
breakfast though.
She: (probably hoping to avoid further unsolicited advice) Have you ever eaten meat?
He: Oh yes! I’ve eaten dog. I’ve eaten rat, I’ve eaten mouse.
She: (weakly) That must have been when you were very hungry.
He: Oh no! It was for the experience. I like to experience everything!
I do refrain from commenting on the stellar social life he must have, never eating before five and then vegetarian or rat. In all fairness, the vegetarian period seems to have followed, and probably superseded, the rodent period, but he is at pains to point out the voluntary nature of the dog and rat experiences.
On the way home we come across a cat, happily soaking up the sun.





















