The all new, all dancing, remote

Our television has been slowly giving up the ghost. We bought it way back when flat screen TVs were the newest thing. It cost us way too much but was pretty good for a fair few years. Gradually, though, like a rusty old car that feels like your best friend, small things have been, metaphorically, falling off.

Like the sound. The right hand speaker ceased functioning a while ago. This wasn’t that bad except when a director decided it would be really arty to have actors speaking through individual speakers. You’d hear one person really loudly and the other not at all. Of course, it was just a matter of turning on the amplifier and this was sorted out.

Really dark scenes were impossible to see. The light/dark rendering was dying. Night time was simply a black, blank screen.

And then the bleed started. A faint hissy sound coming from the live channel while you were watching something else. It was driving Mirinda crazy. It was getting so bad that it was even getting to me.

We discussed it and decided to go and buy a TV. We were tempted to wait till tomorrow but then went out and bought one today. It’s a Panasonic, it’s 32 inch and it’s brilliant. And it has 3 HDMI connections so no more stupid, French SCART leads! The media centre also sounds brilliant now.

I spent a few hours setting it up, sorting out the rest of the stuff, figuring out why the TV wouldn’t work and then plugging the leads in the right way…generally the perfect afternoon. And tonight, after (and during) dinner we watched a movie. It was fabulous!

Not the movie (which was Zookeeper, which was OK but not something you’d really rave about) but the TV. Oh, how wonderful it was! Now I can’t wait for the next Nicktor Night to really test it!

Using the new media drive as it should be used...on the new TV

Because of the TV and Girls & Guitars last night, I completely forgot to talk about the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks. I’ll do that tomorrow…maybe.

Tonight we went to the Maltings for our monthly dose of a girl and her guitar. This month it was Karina Vismara, Argentinian born but grew up in England. Actually I thought she was Spanish…which is pretty close culturally but miles away geographically.

Karina starting her set

Her guitar playing and song writing skills are amazing. Mirinda says she is the best guitarist we’ve seen so far. The trouble was, the sound system was a bit muted. It was very difficult to hear her between tracks and her lyrics were a mystery. A real shame because I have listened to some of her tracks online and she sounds fine. It was clearly a problem with the (lack of a) sound engineer.

While there, we were joined by Laurie who has recently been dumped by his girlfriend of 23 years after she went walking in Pembrokeshire. He was at least 50, maybe older. He’s lived in Farnham for 35 years. Actually she lived in Newbury so maybe the long distance relationship just refused to work.

I’m being unnecessarily flip. He seemed quite sad so Mirinda chatted to him about houses we’d never seen in his street and he told us about the 200 pubs that used to be in Farnham, back when the hops were there for the picking and the Maltings brewed beer.

But, back to Karina…she not only played her guitar but also a strange Argentinian instrument that looked suspiciously like a ukulele only with 12 strings. It was, she said, a charango. It was originally an Andean instrument made from the back of an armidillo. Her’s was made of wood! It sounded just like a ukulele

Looking down the lens

If you’d like to listen to Karina, she has recorded an EP and uploaded it. You can hear three tracks on SoundCloud here.

Another Talking Newspaper today, so it was off early to pick up the papers and start my editing. Since I was there on my own for the first hour, I thought I’d get a photo of the studio.

Where I sometimes 'work'

I sit in the right front, where the smaller bit of paper is while the engineer sits to my right, in front of all the equipment. The engineer has two chairs and uses the far one as a table. The three readers sit the other side of the desk. It’s very cosy though today it was quite cold because I hadn’t turned the heaters on. But that wasn’t my only mistake.

When we make a mistake (a stumble or just plain stuff it up) we are supposed to say ‘sorry’ and then go back to the beginning of the sentence. This gives the engineer something to edit out which retains the smooth flow of the recording. We have to keep picking up some of the readers on it because they just stumble and repeat the word. For this reason, quite a few stumbles remain in the recording, which is a shame.

Having been an actor, I’m quite used to saying ‘sorry’ and going back to the beginning of the sentence, so I don’t usually have any problem with it. Also because I was once an actor, my language sometimes leaves a lot to be desired.

Each time I go into the studio I go through a mental check-list, the final point is not to swear. It’s a mantra: “I must not swear. I must not swear.” Apart from the average age of my fellow volunteers, I’m also acutely aware that most of them are active church goers who might not be used to a course Australian who grew up in Sydney’s western suburbs.

I also write my own sports report which I scribble out before going in to record. My handwriting, at the best of times, is pretty abysmal, but when I’m in a hurry, it looks a little like drunk Sanskrit seen through ink blots. Normally this is fine but today, for some reason, I kept stumbling. Three times I stumbled, each time saying ‘Sorry’ and going back to the start of the sentence like the good boy I am. At one stage I said “I can’t read my own writing!” which had the others chuckling.

The fourth time I stumbled was on the word ‘control’ which I thought said ‘coumjhuy’ or something like that. Of course, I stopped. I blame the frustration with my continual lack of coherent penmanship but I said “shit“! I then quickly said sorry about thirty times. Sue, the engineer, laughing incredulously, took note of the position of the recording and I continued, finishing without any more hiccoughs.

Afterwards, we all had a jolly good laugh at my stumbling and I once more apologised for swearing. Sue then asked if I’d like to keep it in the recording. The others thought this hilarious. Sue then explained herself, saying she meant the bit about my inability to read my own writing not me saying shit.

Rough as guts, Gaz, strikes again, I’m afraid. Still, Sue will edit my foul mouth out of the recording and just leave my observations on my own failings. So, hopefully, all will be well. As long as she does!

Anyway, after getting home, the sun was shining so we popped up to the park. While the sun didn’t last and we were eventually drizzled on by a sudden spring-like shower, we saw quite a few other dogs and their owners.

We met up with Leonard, the big white dog. The one the poodles demur to. Here he is with a woman who’s not his owner. He was actually quite interested in her four dogs. He’s generally pretty sedate but he was acting quite playful today. The girls, of course, ignored him.

Leonard, the big white dog

They didn’t ignore a little chocolate brown King Charles spaniel that stopped in front of them and laid down for them to have a good sniff. They were so intent on sniffing and picking on him that they failed to notice he had a mate who had been checking out the woods. The first they knew was when a streak of black and brown came pouncing onto them. It was hilarious. The spaniels’ owner and I burst out laughing as the poodles scattered under the now even numbers. They really are pathetic.

I saw (and heard) lots of birds but they were either too far away or I had to put the camera away because of the rain. I did manage to get the robin again, still yapping away.

I know you're watching me but I just don't care

My stupid cold has gone. After a night of two nightmares, a horrendous thirst and a bit of tossing and turning, I woke up feeling much better. As the day progressed I only improved. Except my voice, which is delightfully husky. Although the foul tasting strawberry Strepsils may have reduced it to its normal tones.

Today was our first lunch date for ages. Mirinda was working from the flat so we went for a wander around Mill Quay, dodging joggers and prams, spotting lots of birds to photograph before realising I had no memory card in my camera. It always takes me ages to realise it too. I hate that. And I took some brilliant photographs.

Anyway, on our walk, Mirinda outlined her super master plan to me which will revolutionise the world of education as we know it. It’s complex and simple at the same time. It is beautiful. The Official Secrets Act forbids my repeating any of it here.

For lunch we went to a Lebanese restaurant we’ve passed many times but never ventured in. it’s opposite the Lotus. It’s called the Byblos Harbour and is fabulous. We had one of the set lunch menus which features lots of different things. My favourite was the Kibbeh (ground lamb and onions filled in a meat and wheat jacket) which was absolutely divine. It’s sort of like a falafel but so much more. Dad would hate it but mum might like one.

After a lovely, long, leisurely lunch, we strolled back to the flat where I left Mirinda to work and wandered down to the ferry stop.

Generally I can’t get a seat outside, due to all the tourists, but today there was no-one there. Which meant I had a lovely trip back up the river and the chance to take some photographs that weren’t taken through glass. I tried for a few seagulls in flight (I blipped the best) and some interesting buildings. I also managed to find a seagull with a double chin.

I'd fly away if I wasn't so heavy

I’ve not noticed this building before, which is surprising given the huge sign on it. It was once a riverside warehouse but was converted into flats in 1970. It’s in Wapping and is grade II listed. You can pick up a nice three bedroom flat there for a mere £2,500,000.

On the Thames, at low tide

It was built in 1870 for George Oliver and was used, mostly, for tea. It was one of the first serious flat conversions along the Thames. I found a website for an American pub in Baltimore that claimed it was used to house pirates and ‘vagabonds’ in ‘Merrie olde England’, which only goes to show you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Internet.

And here’s the Mayflower, a pub I went to many, many moons ago. I was told it was where the Mayflower set off from. Apparently this is true. The Mayflower was moored nearby and did, in fact, leave from here in 1620. It was called the Shippe back then as it had been when it was built in 1550. It was then rebuilt in the 18th century and called the Spread Eagle and Crown. In the 1960s it was renamed the Mayflower because of the associations with the original ship. Oddly, it’s licensed to sell postage stamps.

A great pub for a beer

Finally, here’s Metropolitan Wharf. It is, like Oliver’s, grade II listed. It was purpose built as four warehouses between 1862 and 1898 and was still used in conjunction with the river up until the 1960s. It was refurbished in 2005 with the idea that it would house business space for ‘start-up’ companies. It also has restaurants, cafes, shops and other general meeting places for the daring young professionals who are busy starting up.

Great location for your first business venture

And that was about it for my day. I won’t bore my reader with the super dull train ride home (nothing happened) or the details of my dinner which wasn’t a patch on Byblos Harbour fare.

It was -5 in our garden this morning when I woke up. It was pretty bad in my head as well. I am feeling awful. While talking to mum and dad on the phone this morning, my voice gradually started to disappear.

Apart from going up to the park for a walk, I have done little more than snooze, drink Lemsip and take Sudafed. And I’m wrapped up.

I did manage to take a few photos in the park. Here’s a few.

I love the way the birds in the park send out a warning as I approach. This little fellow was clearly telling everyone there was a human and two small dogs very close by.

Watch out! Human about!

I’m not sure what this is (Mirinda?) but he’s clearly been feeding in our garden. He looks exceedingly well nourished.

Now, where shall I eat today?

And here’s a nice shot of Carmen in her coat. Following yesterday’s FSI, coats were mandatory today.

Boy, this walking is hard graft

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
And I should have said that the blue stuff (yesterday) is for squeezing.

Firstly, let me say that I’m getting a lot closer with my photograph of a crow in flight. This is the best of today’s efforts. I’m almost happy with it. The poodles quite expertly chased it into the air after I had it well in my sights. I managed to snap off about 30 pics. I’m thinking of training them to go around the other side of the bird and scare it into the air directly at me.

So close...

While the poodles did a very good job with the crow, they weren’t as good later, both of them having the identical FSI. I do blame myself somewhat as I was busy taking photographs of a cheeky squirrel and by the time I spotted them it was all too late.

The daring young squirrel on the flying trapese

Given that Carmen no longer has the agility to leap into the bath, I have to pick her up. Given she managed a pretty all inclusive FSI, meant I was also covered in the foul smelling stuff. Obviously I followed them into the shower. Talk about gross. Cleaning it off them is one thing, off me? Not very nice!

Mind you, this is the first FSI since before I broke my wrist. I’ve only just been able to wash them so it’s only been awhile they’ve been let off the lead. But wash them I now can so there’s no excuse for them to be quite so rank as they prefer.

My wrist is actually getting a lot stronger. I went to the physio today and she, again, was very pleased with my progress. The side to side and forward movement is all good. I just need to work on the bending back and support of weight parts.

To this end, Sandra took me off the memory foam all together and introduced me to something I’ll call flubber. It’s a sort of very, very thick liquid that takes hours to flow. It’s excellent to squeeze because of it’s viscous nature. It is nice and hard but flows between your fingers…eventually. Mirinda suggested I do a time lapse of it flowing. I think I just might. Here’s a couple of single shots.

Before - just plonked on top of a hand cream bottle

After - about an hour later it's flowing down the sides

Truly bizarre stuff. And I LOVE it.

The other thing Sandra did (apart from rave about the excellent improvement in my wrist) was give me a strength test. I had to squeeze this silver metal thing which had a gauge in front for her to read off the numbers. Squeezing with my right hand produced an 80 (I have no idea what this measures but she told me it was good). I then switched to my left hand and squeezed with all my might. She had to stop me as she read out 40. She was stunned with delight. Generally, she told me, people have 75% strength in their non-dominant wrist. The fact that I had 50% was a great moment in healing.

So there you go. Sandra’s happy, Gary’s happy, Mirinda’s happy and the poodles were happy…until I gave them a bath).

Another beautiful and cold day. No clouds, blue sky, less than 8 degrees: My perfect day.

Given the ongoing lack of mobility in Mirinda’s knee, rather than take the dogs for a lovely walk across some gorgeous common, after lunch, we went for a drive.

Whenever Mirinda spots a new house on her realo app, she likes to go over and listen to the soundscape. This way any hint of noise and any prospective houses can be instantly marked off the list of possible visits. Her ears are quite exacting so this reduces the amount of houses she has to see by a goodly sum.

Today we managed to wipe off a couple of places that stretched along a road that ran parallel to the A3. They were only really suitable for the deaf or the type of people who never open their windows. As we fall into neither category, they were all scratched from the list.

We were close to Butser so we decided to pop into the Red Lion at Chalton for a drink. This is the pub where, upon meeting Dawn, Nick and the boys for the burning of the wickerman, we were cruelly forced to retire to because they had suddenly banned dogs. I remember it very well because it marked the first time I met Nicktor and we spent the evening together in a pub, minding the dogs. Things haven’t really changed that much.

Here we all are having lunch in the car park. Typically, Nicktor is holding up one of his milk bottles of beer. I’m pretty sure it was love at first sight. Dawn, Mirinda, the boys, Karen and Nigel all wanted to see the burning so we (Nick and I) generously volunteered to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of the Red Lion.

Eating in the car park in 2004

I can’t believe how young the boys are in this photograph! It just shows how long we’ve known the Cansfields.

Today the Red Lion is almost all restaurant, particularly on a lovely Sunday like today…though the beer is still lovely. The food was busy assailing our nostrils with delicious temptation but we were good. We drank our drinks and then drove home, narrowly missing the new tunnel.

Mirinda checks the colour of her cider

It was rather frosty this morning as I waited on Farnham station for a train that only managed to let me down.

Why I didn't sit down at the station

Bloody engineering works! The trains into Waterloo today were awful. because there was engineering work in the Surbiton area, all trains were being diverted via Barnes. This added about 15 minutes onto the inward trip and about an hour on the way home. And then they decided to change the train times by 10 minutes – fortunately later. Not a good day to be travelling.

Though it wasn’t as bad for us as for the mother and daughter sitting in front of us. And I blame the South West Trains guard who didn’t announce what was happening to the train. People who catch the London train on the weekends know that the train is joined onto a Basingstoke one at Woking and then detached on the way back. And that the Alton part is the last four carriages while Basingstoke is the front four.

At Waterloo, the indicator board says as much. When we arrived at Woking the indicator board said so. Eventually the train announcer said so. The one person who should have (and usually does ad nauseam) was the guard…and he didn’t. Actually, that’s not entirely true.

I went to find him when he’d failed to make an announcement, quite early into the mammoth journey. When I found him skulking away between the carriage joining place – which always reminds me of the space between the worlds – he didn’t make any sense. He jabbered away about the train joining more carriages and becoming a 12 coach train to Alton. Clearly this would be absolutely insane. He didn’t know which part of the train was going where.

It does occur to me that he was, in fact, not the guard but, rather, an alien who had invaded his body but hadn’t manage to link with the guard’s brain enough to understand the intricacies of the South West trains system of weekend shunting.

Anyway, after I’d returned to our seats with the information that the guard had no idea what he was talking about, he made an announcement. Mirinda said he didn’t know what he was talking about and we’d best wait for Woking and check.

And I’ve only just realised I haven’t actually spoken of why we were on the trains today. Stupid one-track mind.

A while ago, Mirinda read about a temporary exhibition of some William Morris stuff at Two Temple Place. Two Temple Place is wholly owned by the Bulldog Trust and is to be used to exhibit small teasers from museums and galleries outside London. Sort of like advertising, the idea being that you see this stuff in the heart of London of something that may be quite close to home. You will then go and see the whole thing. I think it’s a great idea because it means they do the searching for small, obscure places which would otherwise be invisible.

The present exhibition (William Morris: Story, Memory, Myth) has been borrowed from the William Morris Gallery in Walthamstow and comprises various examples of his work as well as work he collaborated on with Byrne-Jones and the pre-Raphaelites.

While the exhibit was fabulous, what really excites the senses is the building itself. Built in the 1890’s for Viscount Astor, William Waldorf, it became his London pad for when he didn’t fancy the long journey home to his country estate. It was designed by John Loughborough Pearson, a Gothic revival architect.

Waldorf (of the hotel rather than the salad) was quite keen on literary and mythological characters and stories, so the house includes many examples in the fabric of the building. 12 heads depicting the characters in Ivanhoe, for instance, line the ceiling in one of the upstairs rooms. Around the magnificent central staircase, stand four wooden statues (one looks like Daniel Boone, another like Robinson Crusoe), beautifully carved. On the banister posts are small statues, like this jolly chap.

A very curious cavalier

It is a beautiful building. By just describing, it sounds quite garish and awful but, somehow, the architect managed to make it beautiful rather than gauche. We are definitely going to keep an eye out for future exhibits here.

Outside they have a swinging sign denoting ownership by the Bulldog Trust. He looks rather majestic.

The Sign of the Bulldog

Something we very much like about William Morris and his ilk is their return to the chivalric past, to the romance of knights and fair maidens. The exploration of magic in the fight between good and evil. Everything is tangled in overgrown briar and acanthus, enchanted swords needed to reach the sleeping maiden in the middle.

These general ideas were reproduced in paintings, wallpaper, books, ceramic tiles, anything really. A wonderful tapestry (in five panels) called The Romance of the Rose is a perfect example. It is based on an unfinished medieval French poem, started by Guillaume de Lorris, finished by Jean de Meun in around 1270 and translated by Geoffrey Chaucer in Middle English.

It tells the story of the Lover and his quest for the Rose (symbolically, his beloved). Along the way, the Lover finds a walled garden where he wanders, pausing to see his own reflection in a pool of water he once more sees the Rose. His journey is long and he encounters a lot of statues showing him both virtues and sins. (Like old age, which is, apparently, a really bad sin! On the tapestry it is, anyway.)

The Lover eventually finds the Rose, which he manages to kiss but the Rose is imprisoned by Jealousy in a fortress. However, Reason comes to the fore and the Lover manages to gain admittance to the fortress with the help of that marvellous double act False Appearance and Forced Abstinence. He plucks the Rose and thereby consummates his love.

They’re all a bit like that. Not many laughs but some beautiful art. Byrne-Jones in was quite keen on fairy tales and there were two lovely sets of ceramic tiles with Cinderella on one and the Beauty and the Beast on the other. We immediately wanted to steal them for our house.

We wandered the entire house before leaving for lunch at the only restaurant within a street of Covent Garden that had a table for two available. We had a lovely Italian meal at Pasta Brown (recommended) before wandering across to Charing Cross Road for the other reason we were in London.

Just before Christmas I received an email asking if I’d like half priced tickets for Chicago at the Garrick Theatre in January or February. How could I possibly say no to that? They were for today so we combined the musical with the William Morris.

Chicago at the Garrick

It was great fun. I managed to see it in Sydney when it first came out in Oz (a long time ago) but I have had the soundtrack for yonks and know all the songs. Of course I’d seen the film. Mirinda, on the other hand, had only heard me singing some of the songs while making dinner…just before closing the doors between us.

Well, Mirinda loved it. The Bob Fosse inspired choreography, the sexiness, the singing, the laughs. It was a great day at the theatre.

We just missed seeing Ugly Betty star America Ferrara as Roxie Hart, but she went home after 8 weeks so we saw Sarah Soetaert instead. According to something I read, America Ferrara had never sung or danced on stage before performing in Chicago starting last November, so I’m really not sure what we missed. Sarah, on the other hand, was fabulous as was Rachel McDowall who played Velma. The two of them together were wonderful. Actually, the whole cast was energised and wonderfully entertaining.

My only criticism would be for the guy playing Billy Flynn (Terence Maynard). I didn’t think he had the essential charm and charisma that the part requires. He was quite capable of singing and dancing but just didn’t exude enough greasy magnetism to really make it work. Naturally this is one of those parts that I would have played before I stopped acting. Even the songs are in my range.

Chicago is one of those wonderful musicals where you just come out onto the street wanting to sing and dance your way home. We tried at the bus stop and then at Waterloo but, eventually, we were ground down by the engineering works referred to earlier.

I had a totally frustrating morning at the Science Museum. Nick asked me to amend a People record for a London printer who owned a very successful publishing house that specialised in lithographs (the Baynard Press). In fact, Baynard were considered the best in the early 20th century. They produced a lot of London Transport posters and are very highly prized now.

The problem is, there’s a lot of bits and pieces about them but nothing substantive or usable as far as proper research goes. Quite apart from this, the original record for the parent company includes Baynard rather than having them both as separate companies with a link explaining the connection. Cleaning that up was easy but finding out any information on either was like squeezing a camel out of a pineapple.

I went hither and thither, finding out a lot about various publishing houses around at the same time and about some guy called Griffits (I thought this was a typo but his name WAS Griffits and not Griffiths) who went from Vincent Brooks, Day & Son (a rival printing house) to Baynard, which, it seems, was a bit of a coup. I can only assume they paid him more money.

Actually, I found out a hell of a lot more information about Vincent Brooks, Day & Sons than about Baynard or the company that owned them (F Sanders Philips & Co). Even Companies House, usually such a reliable source of company information, had only unattainable archived material. Seriously, can Companies House be so desperate for memory that they have to take stuff off their system? Must be the only people who do.

Anyway, it was very frustrating…and all for a Guinness poster of a clock. I eventually gave up. As I said to Nick, I can waste an awful lot of time finding nothing or I can call a halt to it and find something that wants to be found. He agreed and I gave up at lunch time and popped over to the V&A.

I was wandering around the early Renaissance galleries and found this lovely piece of stained glass. It is said to depict Sarah and Tobias from the bible. Now if this isn’t a fairy tale I don’t what is! Apparently Sarah had already married seven men and they’d all died on the wedding night. When she married Tobias (WHY?) he thought it was all over for him but then, fortunately, the angel Raphael turned up and suggested to Tobias that he shouldn’t consummate the marriage for at least three nights thereby passing the fateful first night.

The stained glass shows them safely tucked up in bed with a dog at their feet. The dog symbolises chastity in religious paintings. The extinguished candle in the bottom left hand corner is symbolic of Tobias’ extinguished temptation. Apparently.

Sleeping happily

This is a story from the Old Testament but I think it sounds like an adults version of a Brothers Grimm tale. Was she enchanted by an evil witch with a love of the macabre? Or maybe Sarah visited a witch and asked for the power to attract men but, just as she left, the witch cackled as she announced to her pet crow that every man she married would die on their wedding night.

But Raphael was right and Sarah and Tobias lived happily every after. I think the witch was turned into a newt.

I also spotted (and quite liked) this wooden carving. It’s on an oak panel dating from around 1522 and is from France. The entire thing shows this poor chap and a guy in some sort of official garb who’s clearly not happy with him. It’s unknown what it’s about specifically but the guy in the picture has clearly been caught nicking stuff because as the official guy grabs him, a whole load of stuff falls out of his coat. Best guess by those that know these things was that it stood as a warning outside a building.

Ah, I didn't do nahfink! Honest guv. Thems golden plates is mine

I think he looks quite aggrieved.

Anyway, the afternoon was far better than the morning and I learned all about Cornelius Varley. He invented the graphite telescope which was a big hit in the early 1800s. Unfortunately all he wanted to do was paint but he just kept inventing these amazing optical devices. There was a LOT of stuff about him for me to dig out and disseminate.

A long time ago, way back near the end of 2009, I realised how wise it is to write down anything you are likely to want to say before saying it in the Talking Newspaper studio. While rather good at the old ad lib another life ago, the words refuse to come quite as seamlessly as I age. I know what I want to say but the words fall about in my head like a bag full of Scrabble tiles. My reasoning was borne out today though, fortunately, not by me.

I’ve probably mentioned June and John before. They’ve been reading at FATN for over 13 years and are by far the best readers (in my opinion). They have the amazing knack of making everything sound like they are just sitting chatting to you. I always love when I get to work with them, as I did today.

Everything was going along fine with John cracking me up every chance he had. Then June started reading a story about some sort of environmentally friendly village hall (or other). The story went fine and at the end she started describing the photograph. She struggled for quite some time before calling a halt to it all. We were all in fits (as was she). She said she just couldn’t think of the words she wanted because her brain went blank.

It was then highly relevant when someone read a piece about forgetting things as you get older.

The other reader today was a lady called Anne who I’ve not worked with before. She explained, afterwards, that she can’t be as clever as the rest of us and has to write everything down. I showed my copious notes and told her I write EVERYTHING down, leaving nothing to chance. (Actually, when I do go ‘off script’ I tend to “um” and “ah” a lot, so best I don’t.) Anne was very relieved.

Meanwhile I think John was quietly pleased he hadn’t slipped up (he never writes anything down…show off) and his wife had, because she’s usually very, very good.

Walking back afterwards, the sky quite pleasantly decided to turn blue (it was grey the rest of the day) and I thought the Jolly Sailor pub looked quite appealing. I had a swift pint before continuing on to Waitrose.

Everytime I see this sign, I think of grandad

Earlier in the day I spotted a squirrel eating an apple. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a squirrel eating an apple. Unfortunately I didn’t have my good camera with me so the photo below is not that great (the squirrel was hiding behind the branches and, in fact, when I moved around for a clearer shot, he darted up the tree away from my prying lens) but it was such an odd thing to see that I couldn’t help but include it.

No dentist for this fella

Much earlier in the day, I took the poodles for an early walk where we met Rex, a puppy who just wants to play. He was with his owner who had a second dog on a lead. She spent all the time I saw her yelling for Rex to come back…which is how I know his name.

Of course Rex just wanted to play with the poodles but they were having none of it. Carmen squealed, Day-z ran away and Rex just went and found a much friendlier piece of wood instead.

Stuff you two...look what I've found!