Alan Titchmarsh...

It's all growing well. My windowsill's a jungle of tomatoes, sweetcorn, courgettes and cucumber seedlings. My heated propagator ready to take some more seeds, god knows where I'll put them when they come up. It's all good though, the more I can grow the better, digging for victory is such a good way to pass the time.

Today I'm going to make a potting table out of an old pallet I have. Well, gotta do something to pass the time and a job a day keeps the Coronavirus blues at bay. I'll post a picture when it's done. As always with these things (and this is quite a thing, this Coronavirus bastard) my mind is whirling and my views change moment to moment. It's one of the problems with having a mind that absorbs new information and then adjusts opinions and beliefs accordingly. It's easy to see it as changing my mind or having no rock-solid values and it's easy to piss people off. Well, they piss me off too with the stupidity of there unshakeable views (I'm like that when it comes to not seeing things my way - no apologies I'm usually right). If you'd told me last Christmas that most of the county would be staying at home and, when they do dare to go out, staying six feet away from other people whilst wearing rubber gloves and masks I'd have laughed out loud.  Well just look at things now, we are all dressed to burgle and nobody seems to be bothered. I guess if we all started wearing Burkas to protect ourselves that would be fine too.

And there we have it, people change their minds based upon the situation, at least the survivors, the sensible ones do. All previous firm beliefs are off, at least they are for me and it's like waking up to a different me every morning. That's it for today, I'm off to be Alan Titchmarsh for the day, who knows who I'll be tomorrow?

Lost in time...

They say that there is no time like the present (mindfulness baby) and ain't that the truth. Particularly now as the past is just a happy memory, the future uncertain and the present confusing as fuck. Live in the moment (yea, mindfulness baby) is what we are often told, but what exactly is the moment? Come to that does anybody have any idea what day of the week it is or the date or even the month? And then just as you were past caring to top it all you wake up and the clocks have gone forward a whole hour (bong, bong, bong, bong).

My body clock is buggered. I'm not sure if it's the 12th of never, the day they burned old Dixie down, or Blursday the Fortyteenth of Maprilay. It's like living in a time warp (do you remember doing it, shall we do it again)? We have all become prisoners of time. Dr Who without the travel, voyagers through the time tunnel without a final destination, Quantum Leaping into nowhere. Yes, there is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. They are controlling transmission. If they wish to make it louder, they will bring up the volume. If they wish to make it softer, they will tune it to a whisper. They will control the horizontal. They will control the vertical. They can roll the image, make it flutter. They can change the focus to a soft blur, or sharpen it to crystal clarity. No, this isn't The Twilight Zone, this is the real wowd (as The Jam once sang).

It's all repeats on TV time, canned spam fritter time, Keep Calm and dig in time, zombie time, apocalypse time, end of the world as we know it time. But what bloody time is it really? What day, which week, what month, is it still 2020 or 1918 or 1984 or is it Hammer time? (Yes, they can't touch me, hammer time).

Yes, Doctor, I'll come quietly. You want me to put this on? What a nice jacket. What are the straps for?

Surf's up...

It's Sunday and in time-honoured tradition, I considered a day of rest. A day of rest from the blog world, a day of rest from myself to get me in order. I thought about it (ponder, ponder, ponder) and then I realised there is no order any more, perhaps there never was. I can hardly remember what it was like a couple of months ago when you could go out whenever you wanted, have a drink at the pub, fly away on holiday, get as close as you wanted to another customer in the supermarket and not have to worry about anyone killing you (or you them) with their breath.

What great days, eh?

So Sunday, God's day, the holy Sabbath, church and bells and hymns and blessings. I'd go to church and pray, except the churches are all closed and prayer is no substitute for a vaccine. God must have got a flight and fucked off on holiday years ago or retired to a beach somewhere and forgotten what we are paying him in prayers for.

It's all very confusing and if I had a mind to lose I'd lose it all over again. Thankfully I'm as mad as a box of jumping frogs (hot dog and Albuquerque) and God tells me so every morning at my own private service. He always wears shorts and flip-flops, I guess it's his holiday look. I love his Wayfarers and he's got a great tan, but he stinks of rum and suntan lotion and he's always checking his watch (a not very good fake Rolex, probably bought in Egypt). Perhaps he's got a pilates class or a hot date or something. I hear that he's moved on from Mary and got himself a twerking Latino dancer with a massive omnipresent arse. 

What's that you say God? 'Surf's up dude'? Cool Godio, thanks for the information, it's about time you said something about something, anything, the conversation is a little one-way if I'm honest.

So okay, I think I'll take a day off and leave blogging for people with something wise and important to say. I might go to the beach, oh I can't it's closed. I wonder if God can get me a pass? He's got to be good for something. 

Train to Auschwitz...

I'll try to keep this simple after all, these are complicated enough times as it is and I do tend to see things as black and white to cries of oversimplification. So I'll start with a question which many won't like as we are not allowed to mention the war (as Basil Fawlty would have instructed us).

Here's my question; Were the drivers of the trains taking people to Auschwitz complicit in those terrible deaths or were they simply doing their job despite the fact that they could see and knew exactly what they were doing.

Were they part of it, or were they just doing as they were told? Is it a defence to say that if they didn't do it then somebody else would have done? Was it made okay because they weren't the only ones doing it - what about the engineer who greased the wheels of the train, the company delivering the coal to make the train run, the guard who blew the whistle so that the train could set off? Was it them too?

Okay, I'll tell you why I'm asking you to think about this. We are in a shitty mess, hundreds are dying each day and that is going to get a lot worse before it gets any better. Despite the government advice people are still flouting the instructions and going out, visiting friends, holding parties, and generally doing as they please. Well, why not? Everyone is doing it and I need my exercise so running is more important than other people's lives. Well, these are the people spreading the virus, each time they get too close to another person they spread the virus. Does this make their irresponsible behaviour okay? Isn't everybody (Jenny and Doug down the road) doing it too? Are they not driving the train?

The government (just put politics aside for a while) is trying to keep us all going. They are spending untold billions so that people can continue to live reasonable lives without too much hardship. Of course, that money has to come from somewhere and ultimately we will all be paying for this for years, perhaps decades, to come.

So what are companies doing to help? Well, many are doing nothing, making it worse, protecting their shareholders and management bonuses by laying off staff without pay. Weatherspoons is one example, but it's happening right across business and everybody knows what's happening. If companies, many of whom can afford to continue to pay their staff, look for every loophole so that they can to save a few quid, is it their fault? Isn't everybody doing it? And what about the people following the company instruction so that they can hang on to their own jobs, are they not complicit too? Are they not driving the train?

I'm hearing rumblings from the self-employed that they will come out of this with higher tax rates and the government is using this as a blunt instrument to find out about their tax fiddles. I've heard some complaints about how they have worked hard to build their business and now they can't trade. I hear silly mothers complaining that their kids are driving them mad and arranging group events so that they can dump the kids and get a 'mate' to do their hair. I see men meeting at the car park to have a kick about and 'of course' keeping two metres apart at all times. Are they not driving the train?

I know, let's blame the government for dragging their heels, for not making it clear, for giving confusing instruction, for giving us the opportunity to rip the country off. After all, it's not our fault, we are not doing anything that everybody else isn't doing, It's not our responsibility.

And there it is, that horrible word that nobody wants to accept, 'RESPONSIBILITY'. Of course, the train driver was responsible. Of course, he was guilty of driving people to the gas chambers. Of course, he was complicit in following his orders - he could have said no and accepted the consequences, he did have a choice and he did make one.

There, I told you I saw things in black and white. But I'm sickened by everyone involved in these scams and moans pretending that they are all squeaky clean when they've just stepped into the driver's cab. if you are helping drive the train then you are helping to kill people, end of. Don't do it. It's only going to come back and haunt you all your life and you will richly deserve it. Don't drive the train, don't even grease the axles, walk away from the train and accept your responsibilities. Stop being a part of the disease.

Pottering...

So here's my blog today. It's more of a blogette really, you know like kitchenette, caravanette, maisonette, luncheonette, but maybe not marionette.

The reason for its brevity is simple. It's been a sunny day, warm and bright, so I've spent my time pottering in the garden (10-4 in true tradesman style). I'm a pretty slow potterer these days, my pottering is half an hour on, half an hour sitting down, half an hour thinking about getting on again (also true tradesman style but without the nipping out for a few hours to get on with another job).

Even so, I'm happy with my progress. The old growing frame that I bought online about eight years ago and brought back dismantled from Manchester as panels and bolts is now remantled (well, if it's dismantled why can't it be remantled?), I've repaired it where it needed it (three 'it's in five words - a new world record!), replaced the screws, strengthened it, washed it down with Jeyes Fluid (I bloody love the smell of Jeyes), and very nearly level. I'm not sure what I'll grow in it yet, but probably tomatoes and peppers. My potato pots now have holes drilled in the bottom ready for planting next week and the wall baskets for my tumbling tomatoes are up on the fence. Pottering is hard and thirsty work and my screwdriver is pretty heavy, so I also had a couple of beers and a glass or two of red wine along the way as all good potterers do. So that's that. Nothing much else to report. Stay safe.

Don't panic...

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Out of my head....

I guess I started back at my blog at just the wrong time. It's so hard to focus on anything but this bloody virus thing, and I want it to be more than a journal about the end of the worrld. Just why I was so surprised when it hit is beyond my ken (as Kenneth Horne would exclaim - 'who?', you say). No, I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, I've watched the films, read the books, listened to the radio plays. But, (even though I was expecting it or something similar) it still comes as a bit of a shock to see the world unfolding so quickly.

Of course, some people thought I was off my head (no change there and they are not wrong) but I saw it hitting before it was accepted (just another way to say 'I told you so') so I was mentally and physically prepared. Did I have a premonition? I don't know, but I'd been experimenting with tinned food for months for the first time ever. Of course, I wish I'd prepared more (maybe a bunker, a crossbow, some animal gutting skills, more yeast and sugar), but I'm not running around like a headless chicken (sorry, killing animals myself isn't here yet) because I never said that it was just the flu and it's wasn't going to stop me doing what I wanted and needed to do. I knew it would. Well, here we are folks, we've arrived (told you so).

Two years ago I was in Barbados, staying in a treehouse, drinking rum, and watching the monkeys play in the grounds below. It was the first time I've ever seen fireflies by the hundreds (so magical). Barbados is full of pleasant surprises. Now I begin to wonder if I'll ever get back to what I think of as my (yes, my, I'm an arrogant git at times) island in the sunny Caribbean sea (there's a song in there somewhere) - and yes, I wish I was there right now. Well, at least I still have Paris - wait, I don't, will I ever even get to Paris again? I used to pop across for the day sometimes. Will those days ever return?

Well, so I don't have Paris either, but at least I have my memories, and pretty vivid they are too. I guess I'm privileged to have been born at a time where travel was so easy and affordable. I wonder if that will ever be the case again? For now, I'll stick to my garden and travel the world on my laptop and in my head (which I am out of). If I get abroad again that'll be good. If not, it isn't the end of the world - at least I don't think it is - just yet at least.

Anyway, I off to the beach to sit and have a few rums (in my head, I'm almost out of rum).

Keep safe people. Stay in.

Relax, let's do it...

So we are a couple of days past the Spring Equinox and just a few away from the changing of the clocks (dong, dong, dong). I have to tell you that I'm very pleased, what a long winter that was, long and wet and grey, the type of winter that's guaranteed to bring you down. Hopefully now though the growing warmth and light will make us just a little more cheerful. Ye gods, we bloody need it at the moment with all this terribleness going on. I'll happily sit in my garden and sip a beer (if I can get some), potter around and generally try and stay safe. Going out is risky and I don't want to do it unless I have to (there may be zombies in the town).

Even without the excess of wine and beer (my usual) I'm looking forward to it. I don't do New Year's resolutions but Spring is the mother (as in Mother Earth and not fucker) of all new beginnings (yes, I've gone soft). But I'm fixed on doing something with this special time. I'm ​lucky to be so surrounded by nature. I may not be able to go down to the stream to play Pooh Sticks, but I can sit and watch the clouds and the birds in my garden. The air smells cleaner somehow and there are not many cars and no plane noises, no school busses passing either.

Of course, I'm gardening, planting new life (well it is spring), but I want the wildlife too, so I'm not going to cut it all back and over-manicure my space. There's a balance to be had and boy, do we need balance now if ever we did.

Across the road and up the way there's a standing stone, I go there sometimes and touch it. Sometimes it feels warm and sometimes cold - it depends on the weather. When it's wet it's raining, damp and it is drizzling, if it's whistling and rocking a little it's windy, and if I can't see it then it's foggy. Of course, I won't be leaving the safety of my garden to go there, so I'm going to make my own stone weather indicator and hang it somewhere instead (who needs the weather forecast)?

It's one of those times for feasting, but feasts may be a luxury for a while. I am going to take some onions skins and wrap them around a couple of eggs and tie them tightly with string. Then I'll hard boil them and let them cool. The eggs will pick up the dye from the onion skin and give a really fantastic marbled effect. They'll make great sandwiches too (if Gaynor bakes some bread).

Bonfires are traditional at the equinox. I've already had one in my chimeniere (what a smoke it made). I can't really go to the recycling centre safely so I think that I may be having a few more of them (and sod next doors washing).

I like to have a bit of the outdoors in the house too. I've been buying cut daffodils from the supermarket for weeks but... My tomato plants are greenly on the windowsill growing on, but until my sweet peas have flowered (no bedding this year, the garden centre is shut) I think I may cut some ivy and put it in a vase by the fire.

Spring is that time of renewal and rebirth (as all us cool, deep hippies say) and establishing a new daily routine or rhythm can help ease this transition we are going through (man), maybe even make us feel a little better about things. Doing stuff (from a paper list maybe) provides a bit of a daily framework. Routine and repetition are comforting I find and we are all going to need a bit of both to stop us going stir crazy (or just crazy).

Hey, it ain't so bad. Sitting at home and relaxing is what most people crave most of the time. So why are so many fighting against it now? It can't be helped, but it has to be done.

Stay home, stay well, stay cool.

Speedy Blogzales...

A quick, short and sweet blog today as I've been pottering in the garden most of the day getting ready for growing season. This year I think growing veg might be important, more important than at any time since the war when digging for victory turned just about everyone into a keen (and hungry) gardener. I'm growing in pots as I don't have much soil area and my back is a bitch, although I may lift some slabs to create a raised bed (ouch, ouch, ouch). My pots are on a stand which I made last autumn, so that should save my back a little and of course cut down on the pest damage a little too.

Today I have mainly been sowing seeds into paper pots. I've dug out my old heated propagator and cleared the kitchen windowsill to give them a fighting chance before planting out in May. I've got sweetcorn, courgettes, cucumbers, peppers, beef tomatoes and melons (I'll be lucky to get them to grow) and once they have germinated and grown a few leaves I'll move them into the summer house and start some more. I bought all of my seed in the sales last year and there's loads of lettuce, peas, beans, carrots, spring onions, I've even bought seed potatoes (things that I don't usually bother with as they are so cheap in the shops). I'm growing in old sheep feed tubs and bird fat-ball tubs and I have quite a few big planters. I've even bought strawberry plants to grow in bags on the fence. You don't need much space to grow stuff you can eat, so give it a go. You can order seed and veg plants online and have them delivered.

As you can tell I'm pretty excited, particularly as I'm going to have plenty of time to look after them in the next six months as I hang around the house. I'll keep you up to date on how it goes and if you fancy trying it too - happy growing.

A tale of two mothers...

So it is mother's day and so what? Mothers are often shit, they are really good at letting you down, expecting some sort of respect without giving it back, love without loving. Some mothers don't deserve the label without the add on of 'fucker'.

Do I sound bitter? Well, that's because I am. In every book, I ever read as a kid mothers were such wonderful people. They looked after you, rubbed your leg better when you fell over, made you packed lunches, told you stories, sang you songs, cuddled you, and they did it not because they were expected to, but because they loved you. 

Oh, I know that mothers are just people, I've watched Long Lost Family too (bloody awful programme), but really? Dump your kid and then wait for them to find you? Yes, that works. Mother's can be selfish, self-interested, stupid people, so no, I don't sign up for the cult of mum at all.

I'm pleased for all of you out there with a great mum who you love and who loves you back. I'm sorry for all of you out there who have lost a mum they loved and miss, particularly today. I'm jealous of you all, deeply jealous and upset that I don't feel like that, can't feel like that even if I try to focus on the good things because there weren't any really. It makes me feel bad as if I did something wrong. Who knows perhaps I did. Maybe I cried too much as a baby, was a naughty toddler. Perhaps I was willful, disobedient, downright nasty at times. Hey, who am I kidding I was all of those things, but I was also the small boy who saved his pocket money to buy a blue glass bowl that I'd seen in a gift shop so that I could buy it for Mother's Day. I don't know if my mum liked it or not, it was hard to tell with her, she was so locked in her own self-obsessed world.

I don't know what my sisters feel about her, I've never asked and we don't talk anyway. I thought a mother was meant to build a family unit, keep it together, make it strong, love and nurture and warmth, but all we were was five individuals without much in common living in the same house. At least that's the way I remember it. Perhaps, it really is me.

Anyway, I won't let today pass without saying the other thing I came here to say. Much later in my life, I did have a mum, my wife's mum Joan. Oh, she was a pain in the arse, silly at times, bloody-minded, distant in some ways, broken in others, we fell out, we argued, but I had no doubt that she loved Gaynor and I think that she came to love me a little. She certainly adored our daughter. She was full of love but found it so hard to show it, instead she did it in lots of little ways. Joan, I am missing the socks and pants, the whiskey, and I'm using all those 'free gift' tools you gave to me (free gifts my arse, you must have thought me stupid), the Jersey lily you brought me back from holiday flowers most years, I'm even missing coming out to retune your telly or change a light bulb at ten o'clock at night. By the way, you were right about that bathroom tap, it was dodgy all along. I think of you most days and miss you, you silly old bat, I hope you know that.

So that's it, Mother's Day. Have a good one, don't visit, but pick up the phone or talk through the window. Don't visit their grave - stay away - but remember them for a few minutes quietly.

Happy Mother's Day, you still remind me of the queen, Queenie.

Hopes and...

I get this feeling that a lot of people are changing, some for the worse but lots of others for the better maybe. I'm hoping that something good will come out of all of this shit, but as I've been around a while and leant that 'white man (in fact most men) speak with forked tongue' I'm as ever, cynically optimistic.

But hey, times of trouble drive change, maybe not forever but at least for a while and that refreshes us as animals who strive to be better than a virus occasionally, maybe, perhaps. So, in true Miss World tradition (yes, I have my tits propped up and my capped teeth are all shiny - ding!) here is my initial list for the changes I'd like to see after the deaths are done and social distancing is just a silly thing we once had to do to avoid the deaths (yes, another fruiting top ten list, so brace yourselves).

1 - I hope that we get leaders we can trust. No Trumps, really importantly no Trumps, and no old-style Boris, no despots, dictators, dicks, or tyrannical types. I know that's a lot to ask given that so many people are so easily fooled (and stupid to the core) all of the time, but it's my number one. I have to say that I'm impressed with Boris so far in this crisis. (It can't be easy going from Brexit buffoon to trying to lead us out of the mire in just a few weeks). He still bumbles like a demented drunk bee, but it's bumbling with a purpose.

2 - I hope that religion fooks off (that should read fucks but it's an offensive word - religion that is). Praying solves nothing and God? Well, I don't want to cover that dirty, muddy, swampy, shit ground all over again. But I hope that people resolve the blind faith they insist upon and start thinking for themselves and not reading a bunch of dusty fairy stories and sending out hopes and totally ineffectual prayers as if that's 'job done'. 

3 - Well, that's politics and religion out of the way, so what about money? Okay, I hope that people appreciate it more, not for what they don't do with it but for what they can do with it. Life is not a balance sheet, there is not profit and loss. If you have some money then do some good with it, for yourself, for others, for anyone but the bankers and investment people. Why pursue something that you don't need? If you need it, then go for it, but don't ever just amass it and do nothing with it.

4 - I hope that people have new values. Who cares how your eyebrows look, what you weigh, the nail colour you have on today, your latest bag, shoes, designer clothes. Who cares how big your house is, how old your car is, who wins that game, or what expensive resort that you are going to on holiday? Who cares, when there are a lot more valuable things to care about? (you can all make your own list I expect). 

5 - I hope that we all appreciate, just a little more, what we have, for what it is, and what it all means to each of us.

6 - I hope that people begin to face the truth without fear and become more realistic. I beg your pardon but I never promised you a rose garden, so don't pretend life is one because it's really not a lot of the time. Just be real, think and accept, think and fight, but don't not think and do nothing whilst you hum a happy meaningless tune, smell imaginary roses, smile vacuously, and make inane comments. 

7 - I hope that we appreciate how fragile things really are and start to recognise how tiny we are to this planet, not to mention to the infinite universe. We are lucky to be here, lucky to live, lucky to share this world with such wonderful other creatures who hardly ever harm us and yet some of us kill them to grind up their horns to (as they, ridiculously believe) make them hornier. I really hope that we begin to share this world with all creatures 

8 - I hope that we can all get on better with each other regardless of religion, race, creed, sexuality, and physical and mental appearance. Ultimately we are all the same and as fragile as each other.

9 - I hope that we each take responsibility for ourselves and share a world view of what is right and wrong. Do wrong if you will, but do it honestly and accept the consequences. Do right if you will, but do it honestly and accept the consequences.

9 - I hope that the word 'love' comes to mean just that in all it's many forms. It's not just a word or a Beatles song, it's a lifeline. 

10 - Lastly, I hope that my hopes are made real for all of the people who survive whatever this is and wherever it's going.

And that (my dear friends - no italics) is the vote of this one-man jury. I hope that you find it acceptable and make me Miss World.

Have hope.

I'm David Bowie...

I know when to go out, and when to stay in, get things done...

Well, we are all David Bowie now aren't we? And if we're not, and don't have a good reason, then we bloody well should be. Of course, it remains our individual choice whether to wear a space helmet, a lightning flash, a clown suit, or a powder blue box jacket. But staying in? Well, do it or lose the right to go out at all. Stay in and get things done.

Bowie and Monty Python are good friends to have around if you are staying in. Both are regular visitors with me at the moment, these confined moments, when I feel a need to laugh and sometimes to cry in quick succession - Monty P. for the laughs, Bowie for the tears. That's the trouble with staying in, your feelings can become intense without the distraction of the wider world, too focused, too insular, too angered.

Apparently close confinement to your 'loved' ones can lead to increased disagreements and arguments (no it can't). I can see that because having kids around is bloody awful at the best of times as they are always saying 'are we there yet?' or 'I'm bored!' (No they don't). Well, yes we are there and if you are bored find something that won't make you bored (collect stamps or read or do the bloody hoovering - can't - can - can't - can - can't...). Husbands and wives, even girlfriends and boyfriends, are just the same (no sorry, I can't agree). I'd like to point out everyone is different especially if you are a girlie (just like my dear papa - it's confusing these days). It's all argument and angst in times of trouble, all part of being human I guess (no it isn't).

Cabin fever, that distressing claustrophobic irritability or restlessness experienced when a person, or group (maybe mounties or Hell's grannies), is stuck in an isolated location or confined to quarters for an extended period of time. It can make you be mean, and I, well, I'll drink all the time. It's tough staying in, mind you, it could be worse. For instance, you could be on a cruise ship in the Caribbean, in prison, in a care home, an asylum, sitting in a tin can far from the world, or even down in the sewer (who let the bloody stranglers in)? It can make you stir-crazy (no it can't), and in this context, the use of stir means 'prison' (no it doesn't, I stir my tea, tea isn't a prison, porridge maybe, but not tea, or gravy - I'm starvin' for me gravy). Well, here's the thing. Currently, we are not in prison or in a tin can (we are), we are staying home and home is a refuge and we should be able to 'make it so' as Captain Picard would say (Look it's getting a bit crowded in here what with David Bowie, that bloody Monty Python lot, The Stranglers and now Patrick (Picard) Stewart). But we do need to make it so and try not to argue (sorry?). We all have to find our new normal (no we don't - do - don't - do - don't...). Do you see how easy it is to slip into argument mode?

There's little more guaranteed to make you spiral into depression than continual argument. So instead of arguing do good stuff, maybe even together. Stuff like gardening or cooking, maybe playing scrabble, listening to Bowie, watching old comedy programmes on Youtube, or - if you really need and whilst we still can - go for a drive, that's fun (no it isn't).

Anyway, I think that's about it so I'll leave this here otherwise we'll argue (no, we won't). Some arguments are going to happen (not necessarily), but personally I'd rather argue a little than die or kill someone with my stupid selfish actions - don't go out, stay in, get things done. Stay cheerful folks, Monty Python might help (no it won't). 

Do you want the five-minute argument or the full half-hour?