Cycling Malaise

It was a bit of a tricky weekend, I was in mourning for my lovely bike as well as other things.

The source of the various father related thoughts a few days ago were probably due to the fact it was the date of the memorial, which I did not attend. I made it quite clear to my father's side of the family that they would have to make a choice between his children and his second wife. Sadly blood is not thicker than water and thus none of my father's children attended his memorial.

Honestly, his family are awful and now they are dead to my eyes. If you think a woman, or a gay can hold a grudge just wait till you displease a dandy.

All of this means I've started the week on a less positive note than I would like but perhaps going for cocktails at Blacks this evening will help.

If in doubt, go to Soho.

The View from the vale

I've managed to find one of the cables I was looking for so I can plug my camera phone into my computer. This means I can share photos with ease now but I'd still like to know where that other pesky cable is hiding.

Anyway, here are some photos of my grandmother's house for those readers who enjoy looking at almost sickeningly twee places. This photo was taken from the front garden which is mostly used for games of croquet and playing 'What's the time Mr Wolf?'.

The house has good gardens for playing all sorts of games that involve chasing cousins around or hide and seek and there is a pond on the other side of the house where whole generations of newts have been closely examined by family members over the years.


When you go in the main door you will notice the stick basket. Inside are a collection of mallets, shooting sticks and various other paraphinala. Most of the walking sticks are fairly pockmarked as they have been used as they have been involved in more than a few pirate style battles and rescues of princesses.

There is an archaic pair of wooden tennis racquets for use in the tennis court. The courts are grass ones and are played on perhaps three or four times a year. They used to be played on even less because my grandfather decided that around the tennis courts would be an excellent place to put some bee hives so any balls going out of play would result in an army of angry bees joining in the fun. The hives are gone now , but tennis always plays second fiddle to bothering newts.

This is a picture from the small drawing room that leads off the kitchen. I always liked this room when I was small because it was where you went to draw pictures of dragons and play with glue while still being comfortingly close to the adults talking in the kitchen. The Piano was only for accomplished players, amateurs were made to play the less good piano that lived in the barn. The barn isn't actually used for any farming related things, it's for having parties in and running around whooping. It's also full of cobwebs and scary pictures so it's excellent for making yourself scared on halloween.

The bear brings back lots of fond memories for me, it is a ride on bear with a cable you can pull to cause it to make bear noises. This pre-dates computer chips, and it looks like it pre-dates the British Empire. it's so old so I have no idea what produces the strange 'Wrough' noise it makes, it's probably some special device made out of ivory and panda hearts.

For some reason all the books in this room are French. I'm not sure why you would put only French books in a room where young types are allowed to play around with scissors and pens but there you go.

Anyway I hope you have enjoyed this little tour down memory lane and into Dorset.

Devon and Dorset

I've rushed off to the West Country. Not just because it's time for the yearly Family Shoot, but because my Grandmother is deeply unwell.

She is in hospital right now giving the nurses lectures on the correct way hold a fork which I'm taking as a good sign.

Anyway the shoot is tomorrow, so I have to go bed now.

What a carry on

People are predictable. If someone starts acting strangely and you can't work out why they are suddenly doing something so weird there are only two reasons why this may happen.

The first is money. This happens less in day to day relationships but I think it should get a mention because the amount of corruption going on in local county councils is amazing. You wouldn't believe the things that people are getting away with here in Devon. It's really shocking.

The other man reason why someone starts acting strangely is sex, typically affairs. If someone suddenly breaks up with you with talk of 'needing more space' or 'wanting to find themselves' as much as they would like to pretend that they have had an epiphany it's really just they have met someone else.

This is extra topical because of memorial arrangements. My uncle, who is a bit of a rotter and has spent his whole live doing very little but sleeping with rich women and living off their largess has started acting strangely. He is married, of course but that has never slowed him down. I say strangely because his actions over the funeral thing seem to make no logical sense.

Why is he doing everything he can to please the Himmler woman? With out a care about how it affects his brother's children? Why because they are having an affair.

I don't know how long it's been going on, but Himmler did also try and seduce my dad's best friend when he was there during my Dad's final days. This woman is just horrible, and so is my uncle. I mean really. Can't someone just show a modicum of self control?

The end of an aga

Please excuse the pun, but it is that time of year and a key part of my mother's house is changing. This Christmas has been a strange one, I've had some things I really wanted - like a moka pot and a lovely new shirt and somethings I could have done with out. A long email from T.P. detailing how awful I am.

Christmas was a touch sad because I missed my dad. When I was wrapping presents it felt like I had missed someone out and when Christmas Day happened I found myself waiting for him to call as he did every year. It's a troubling time of year because it was around Christmas seven years ago that my mother discovered he was having an affair and he was gone by New Year's Day.

So I suppose this feels like the end of that period, the seven years of sadness where a family fell to pieces.

What makes this feeling of change even more potent is that the aga is being replaced. The Aga has been the heart of the house for as long as I can remember, it's always on and burbling along to itself like a cast-iron chicken. Making the kitchen warm and being a source of freshly baked rolls. On the top of the aga the lids are slightly dented after years of people sitting on them while having difficult chats about things. You can deal with anything while sat on the hot top of the aga with the drying socks dangling above your head.

With oil prices going up so much it's being replaced with a Heritage, which burn much more efficiently and are better in every way. It seems like a potent symbol of change, almost as potent as my new socks.

A mixed day

Yesterday was technically a good day, possibly a brilliant day. I have managed to get a book deal, it's for a sort of book I wouldn't have thought I would be writing but the money is good and it is a fun project.

What made the whole thing more entertaining is the project required a consummate gambler to write about casinos. I hate gambling, but in the interviews I was successfully able to give the impression of some sort of James Bond type who has been playing Craps since he could roll snake eyes. I'm not that person, I think gambling is stupid and the more I researched into the subject the more I realised the Casinos are on to a brilliant scam. Either way the book is going to be entertaining to write and it should lead on to other things - I'll have to think of other subjects I don't like so I can write a guide to them

All sorts of other things are happening now too, so the career part of my life is very much taking off which leads me to the kicker. I wanted to tell my dad about it all.

While this didn't ruin my entire evening it did rather put a downer on it, and then I had a night riddled with nightmares last night. I always do when I think of my dad.

Cars, mustard and flowers.

I have returned from Devon. Yet again it was a pleasant trip. Strangely my ancestral home was spared any sort of bad weather so we were feeding geese broken biscuits in bright, life-giving sunshine while the rest of England was being slowly washed away in floods.

The family party was good fun, it was in a huge tent in the grounds of one of the family piles in Dorset. This estate had loads of slightly snooty looking Alpacas striding around much to the amusement of my little brother. They were just the other side of a ha-ha so you could safely eyeball them from the croquette lawn with minimal danger to your gin and tonic.

The meal was good, a large pig on a spit roast fed the 150 or so distant rellies and in between courses my little brother and I had a fiercely fought mustard eating contest followed by a round of see-who-can-eat-the-biggest-flower. I won that but felt very strange for the rest of the day.

I've just got back from a test drive in the new Aston Martin, H has one for a few days to review so we went for a needless drive up to the Heath and back again getting as lost as possible so more driving could happen. Strangely unlike other high-performance cars people let you out when you are driving it.

It is a splendid car, at low speeds it's almost silent and then when you step on the accelerator it roars into life. You could almost feel the Polar bears dying because of the excessive petrol consumption but I think their deaths were not in vain.

I want one, actually I need one (the car, not the polar bear - our flats have a no pet policy) I just need to find some way of getting £120,000. I wonder how much my cravat collection is worth.