Ticking of the Clock

Sorry for the lack of posts. Just been pootling about: Gloucester, Northants, Gloucester again. Back to Northants soon, then Gloucester, then Carlisle, Kendal and Clackmannanshire. All good fun, but knackered. A little fed up with England already - the weather, the old testosterone sacks you find propping up village pubs, spouting their pub psych, and the general doom and gloom politics and introversion of parts of the country. We seem to have an odd relationship with food and a lot of mental health problems. A country making itself sick in many ways. 

The whole 'holy shit!' response over shops charging 5p for a plastic bag makes me want to put one over the complainant's head and hold it there. Rwanda banned plastic bags ages ago. A country doesn't implode because it doesn't have plastic bags. You survived two world wars - get a grip.

Although it's such a scam that a 'bag for life' used to be a material bag, and now it's just a big plastic bag, costing more.

For all we have here in the UK, how little we make of it. And I'm not suggesting people should wander round in a constant state of gratitude - the nice thing about a free society is that you're free just to enjoy it. But a little more imagination would be nice. A little more pluck when it comes to quashing horrific political policies that eat away the goodness of people from the inside. A little less scaremongering, a little more consideration.

Looking forward to getting away from televisions again. Even comedy panel shows look a bit stale when you return to the same lineup and the same jokes a year and a half later. Nothing missed.

As you can tell, the novelty of all-you-can-eat chocolate and hot water has just about worn off. Now missing India Khazana, Jo & Zuba and a country full of potential. Yes, I'm romanticising there as I did here before leaving, but ho hum. Living in two split realities at the moment. 

Some nice things, though. Lovely to see my Aunty Jean again. She came for a drink by the river in Epney before flying off on holiday with my dad to Portugal for a week.

(panoramic - click to enlarge)

Couldn't resist gingerbread cheesecake! Nomnomnom. #foodporn

I've restocked my wardrobe. Well, part of it. Not an easy task when you're shopping for summer in the middle of winter. Getting there, though. Nice wander by Gloucester Docks.

Back in Guilsborough, I stopped to admire Merrick's filing system...

He does make a mean cheese and pickle sandwich. All the trimmings. Must be a secret to it.

Also found this on my desk. I was overjoyed! Can't wait to be a home owner this time next year.

Got roped into (ho ho) bell ringing. Quite a workout having not done it for a while. Good for the arms and stomach. Here's Percy swinging about.

There was also hand bell practise, and I stood in for a missing member. Haven't done this since I was a kid. 

You can listen to our rendition of Silent Night on Soundcloud. Not too shabby.

Merrick on Treble - One Handed!

The food has been good. Mum's homemade watercress and pea soup. Cress straight from our pond.

Met up with my lovely friend Jim for a fish supper at the Wharf in Welford, and a serious evening of drinking. Finally threw in the towel around midnight - last ones standing in the Ward Arms (I flatly refuse to call it the Witch & Sow. It has been the Ward my entire life, it will remain so).

For some bizarre reason the new owners (there are always new owners) have inserted a step between the dance area and the bar, and installed a fully functioning disabled toilet... downstairs. Seriously. Two steps to get down there, and at least one either side of the bar. 

Been enjoying snuggling up in the attic with my reading lamp, late into the night.

Also had fun doing a book signing. But this is not a booky blog, so I'll save that for elsewhere. Suffice to say it was a lovely night. The UK does have its up-side for the arts scene, and for literature - behind the huge gender and race bias the publishing industry seems to perpetuate... Okay. Enough, I know. 

Meanwhile, back in Gloucester, found a lovely little café whilst Kitty went for her MOT. It's called Cookes Coffee & Curios. Delightful full English, and you can get it in snack sized portions too. The lady has a cabinet full of beautiful pocket watches. I couldn't help myself! 

Sadly, Kitty didn't make it though her MOT and it looks like she may need quite a bit of work done on her brakes. Will find out on Friday, but willing to bite the bullet. When I pulled into Welford, a group of people sat watching me from a pub bench.

"Don't sell her!" one lady told me, completely out of the blue. "My brother had a car like that. They're quite rare. It's lovely."

No fear. I'm going to get her shipshape before we head up to Scotland.