[count your blessings] it’ll be worse tomorrow

This photo is of Serbia, not Sicily, hence the greenery. Take out the grass and foliage and throw in half a dozen churches and narrow steps running down the hill and you have the part of town I am staying in.

Let me state right up front that there are some wonderful things here:

1. the friendship of people like Welshcakes and others;
2. a most livable cave I’m staying in where the temperature is about 22 degrees when the outside temperature is about 40 and the wind gusts down one’s throat;
3. a lovely hotel nearby where one can relax.

It’s in this spirit I have to warn the reader that what follows is going to sound like unmitigated bleat. On the other hand, posts like the last two are creating the illusion of an idyll which it is anything but. At the risk of blog friendships, I’d prefer the truth to be known – why, for example, I’ve not answered comments, checked my emails or visited you.

Yesterday evening was a perfect example of cause and effect, illustrating that:

1. it only takes one small detail to go wrong and the ramifications can be extensive;
2. there is a “use by date” for every resource, including, energy, health, money and people’s tolerance of you;
3. with the best will in the world, people just can’t, even if they wished to, understand the cause and effect and real implications of one’s situation plus their own is not too hot either and the longer it continues, the more immune they naturally become to wanting to have anything to do with it, fair enough;
4. in the end, you really are on your own unless you can succeed in garnering help from Above;
5. the only face anyone wishes to see is a bright, cheerful one on the other person, whatever the actual circumstances, which becomes less possible as time takes its toll.

Last evening, I was to be met by a friend in the lower town and taken by car to the far end of the city, where I’d meet up with Welshcakes for a natter, visit fellow bloggers, take care of my site, take care of the current need of my friend in Russia [which I can help with as some form of initial recompense] and assure people all is well.

Bear with this, if you would.

Two afternoons ago, I walked, against advice, the two kilometres from this end of town, down the hillside steps to the river course lower town and then the other three kilometres up the far hill to Welshcakes. The result was the upbeat post about hillside beauty.

The distance was nothing and there was no premium on time, so people’s advice that it was crazy to try that stunt in the afternoon heat did not include the real killer – the traffic fumes in the cauldron of narrow streets of the old town in the river bed. They weren’t to know of any allergy, rhinitis and early bronchitis which meant hanging over railings and losing parts of one’s earlier lunch four or five times along the way.

Every action has an effect and even having allowed that paragraph just now, the justified accusation would be that this post is unmitigated bleat, something normal bloggers would never indulge in, British stiff upper lip being more the order of the day.

Maybe so but I sure as hell wasn’t going to repeat that stunt and made an arrangement that Friday’s trek would be done more intelligently. So there I was in the lower town in the fumes, waiting to be collected and as my lift continued not to appear, the bronchial stuff began.

After half an hour of it, it was up the hill again to get away, keeping to the shadows where it was only about 35 degrees and making it, without incident, to the hotel I know, where the positive sides of cause and effect kicked in:

1. I could buy a lovely cold beer and in Sicily they also serve yummy accompaniments;
2. One of the two ladies I know there, Paula, just happened to be coming to the end of her duty time and let me phone, thank the Lord, as mobile to mobile is apparently the only way to phone, landline somehow causing problems in Sicily;
3. I got to meet the amazingly named chef, Accurso Crapato and saw his cavalier style at first hand, which is why his urging to try his culinary skills is overwhelmingly tempting [but bear in mind the rest of this post] and the moment any good news comes through on the passport I’ll have Welshcakes in there with me and we’ll live it up.

Back to reality – having now used up that phone favour from Paula, I can’t very well go and repeat the dose today without making a pain of myself; it’s something I can’t afford to do as these two friends are my only lifeline at this end of town. So everything is a question of dwindling resources, in the end.

As for being collected earlier, that friend had an issue, apparently and as no one could contact me to tell me, there not being a phone in this place and having no mobile phone which they’ve been urging me to get “to make it easier on all of us”, as another friend urged with a race of annoyance two days ago, not understanding that it does not cost “five euros” as she put it but 87 euros to get set up in this town, out of a total of 500 euros left and wondering why the hell I don’t have a mobile anyway, which necessitates mentioning Russia where all my business was conducted from my landline at one tenth the cost plus the email being my main communication channel and then suddenly I had to leave Russia in May, a mobile being the least of the problems at that time [the main problem being that no overseas money can come in here as it needs an account to send it to which one is not allowed in Italy as a tourist, my friend assures me and my Russian account is not accessible here] but now, as lack of mobile is a difficulty, I’ve promised to get one the moment the passport comes through which would mean I can then deploy resources [which I can’t at this moment as, if it doesn’t come through, I’m going to need every euro possible, which in turn makes me currently look like a sponging freeloader in people’s eyes, which in turn reduces their willingness to be friendly and is so far from the truth, as by nature I am not an ungenerous, mean-spirited person, which in turn depresses me more than I can say and leaves me isolated over this part of town, not knowing if I will be collected on Monday evening or not at the foot of the hill].

So the only thing is to do the up-hill-down-dale walk this evening to post this and let you know why I have not been visiting your sites or answering my post comments and generally making people less inclined to visit this site to find out anyway, as you have your own problems at that end and I shan’t be able to reply, as it is, until Monday evening at the earliest, which in turn is more depressing because blogging is what I love doing and there’s a heap of new material to post on. Plus I can only use the internet a limited amount of times out of deference to the friend, despite her saying I could use it as I wished and that is exacerbated by a second friend telling me I should not use it as she’d feel uncomfortable, herself, doing it and I assured her I would never willingly use another person’s resources except sparingly.

Someone asked on the phone two days ago why I don’t use the bus to the far end of town.

I agree, except for one thing. The buses are not running in the late afternoon when my friend is available to see me over there and having waited around in the morning, they are also not running, except on the driver’s whim [which non-Italians will wryly smile at, considering this stretching the truth, which they would not smile at if they actually lived here and that’s why a motorbike is currently being lined up but that’s another story] the reason being that we are coming up to the national holiday on the 15th, when everything shuts down but the Italians tend to shut down one week either side of that and go to the beach which is where I’d go too if I had any sense, any money and somewhere to stay but I’m not complaining about that.

As it is, the cave I’m in is excellent, cool and relaxing as I write this in the recliner chair and would that it could continue for some weeks except that there’d be no friends at all left if it did. There’s a young man living in this labyrinth who is a cheery soul – works for a bank, has lots of friends but finds this place depressing as it is so dark and lonely and he, as a typical Italian, enjoys big company and “lots of light” as he puts it.

Each to his own, I suppose. When I mentioned that this place was great on a hot day of 40 plus, his olive skin showed that that was no problem for him but what he dreads is the cold and I imagine this place would be chilly in winter.

“Doesn’t that worry you?” he asks, incredulously.

“Don’t forget I’ve come from Russia.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Everything’s relative, isn’t it?”

That’s the last depressing post I plan to write for now as it is … well … depressing and to maintain mental health and everyone else’s remaining goodwill, it will be necessary to return to the “don’t worry – be happy” style of the previous posts and assure you the next will be upbeat.

Have a lovely weekend, as I intend to have a ball.

Yes.

[rarified air] the view from the top

Church of St George, showing the steepness of the hill

It was a conjunction of circumstances which brought me to Modica in the first place and it was another change of fortune which found me, still impecunious but savouring the delights of the old town, perched on top of the hill, hunkered down in a cool cave away from the burning summer sun.

This south-eastern corner of Sicily is warm, yes, but that’s no reason to swelter. A lady I know works at the Palazzo Failla on via Blandini and so I thought I’d negotiate the picturesque, steep cobblestone and pitch lanes which wind down to St. George Cathedral and the Castle of Counts, an ideal starting point to visit both UNESCO world heritage Modica and the whole area.

The Palazzo Failla at night

There, between those two baroque classics was a beautiful XVIII century building, “a unique jewel” as the owners put it, “refined to the last detail. An ancient home of an aristocratic family, it still preserves its original charm and the rooms, each differing from the others, retain their own particular floor design, their frescoed ceilings, the genuinely antique furniture, combined with the comfort of modern conveniences.”

You might have read such blurbs the world over but I was privileged to see that every word was true in this case – it is indeed one of the landed aristocracy’s old palaces, an oasis in a sun-drenched land.

The owners, Signori Failla and their traditional welcome

The main restaurant, La Gazza Ladra, sports an amazingly named and renowned Chef, Accursio Craparo, whose use of local ingredients doesn’t appear to hold back his quest for new taste sensations but if you crave still more gastronomic thrills, then adjacent to the Palazzo Failla is the Locanda del Colonnello, offering typical Modican dishes, the local chocolate of Modica, sweets and liqueurs, as well as organising, on request, cooking lessons and tastings.

The most typical room - the Blue deluxe room

It’s said that in Sicily, the question is not “what will we do this evening’ but “what will we eat this evening”? The milder temperatures of late evening are when everyone comes out and enjoys the fare on offer – a time when cares and woes are forgotten and bonhomie is the order of the day.

I took a quick look at the room rate and was amazed that a four star establishment of this kind asks so little. I suppose it’s now time to come clean about this region.

The executive room

Quite frankly, they do not have a tourist mentality down this end of Italy. What you get is unspoiled Italy without the long queues outside duomos, without the fleece the tourist mentality, with magnificent scenery and with what I can only see as an absence of crime.

The relaxation room, because of the hot tub on offer

This is a family town, a town of church bells and Madonnas on supermarket walls. Young people tootle around on scooters [or rather hurtle down narrow paths], everyone smiles and when you walk into a place like the Palazzo Failla, you’re made to feel welcome.

Restaurant La Gazza Ladra

I’m on no payroll saying such things – it’s just one of the best kept secret corners of Europe which is still as it was way back when, whilst at the same time offering EU standard facilities at modest prices – quite a combination and a blessed relief, given my current situation.

Try it.

Cafe Blandini - typical of the service

[up hill and down dale] the best way to lose weight

This is the traditional photo of this part of the world, which shows the steepness of the pathways.

Welshcakes tells me some readers have been concerned what happened in the past few days. I can assure you no one as yet has bumped me off nor deported me – that comes later. It’s just that for bureaucratic reasons I had to move to another part of town, away from the internet until now.

So to today’s post.

By definition, hilltops tend to be quite picturesque when covered with ancient limestone dwellings clinging to the rock face all the way down a multitude of narrow, steep cobblestone and pitch lanes to the central town below.

Different lanes lead off one another, passing under hairpin bend roadways suspended in thin air and every so often giving out onto breathtaking landscapes. Halfway down one set of steps would be a little triangular piazza, where two buildings would meet in an L shape and where old men would sit, sipping on drinks.

Further down, the grand staircase would sweep left and there would be a fruit stall, bar and so on, until the path at the foot of the stairs could split two ways - the steps might begin near the top of the church spire and continue down beside the building to the church entrance.

This is the route I took by chance two evenings ago, eschewing the map in favour of a sense of adventure.

Eventually decanted into the main street in the river bed which could be caught in a torrent should there be a flood, which there won’t be as the climate is too hot and one is more likely to be caught in an earthquake instead, the 37 degrees was beginning to tell and una crema-di-caffe was the only solution. Al fresco, it felt not unlike the way Sebastian Melmoth must have spent the final years of his existence.

A huge heaped bowl of spaghetti later, it was time to retrace the steps, easy enough at the beginning but the tracks spread out like the branches of trees further up so it was going to take more than a little luck and dare I say some divine guidance at these heights.

Made one error and retraced, then, beside a church on some broad sandstone steps, two girls going the other way asked me the way to House Quasimodo.

I explained that I was English and they said it was better to speak English but they weren’t English – they were French so I tried le francais on them, which produced incredulous looks. Further up the cliff, another lady also came up, asking the way to House Quasimodo and I repeated the mantra, wondering if she was French.

No, Italian.

Why had she assumed I was Italian? Do I bear a passing resemblance to a Sicilian? So we spoke in rudimentary Italian [on my side] and parted the best of friends. Every step upwards was a new doorway, some open, with people engaged in interesting pastimes, everyone sweltering in the heat.

And so back to the hilltop cave.

I once climbed Ayer’s Rock in Australia and a very interesting thing happened. We were told we’d need one litre of water to the top and another down again but I’d taken two plastic pint containers by mistake and one of them had been finished halfway up.

Sitting on the ledge, I’d sipped some more and then realized there wasn’t even enough left for the rest of the journey down. Still – it would be OK – that was only a rough guide about water anyway, wasn’t it?

The water finished quickly and maybe forty metres further down, the legs simply cramped and there I was, like a baby, with Japanese tourists in shirts and ties going the other way, politely dipping their heads as they huffed and puffed past and like a baby, I made it to the ground on all fours and crawled the hundred metres to the car.

In hot climates, as you’d know, you have to have constant water and there’s no such thing as not taking it. I’d like a centime for every bottle sold in Sicily throughout a hot summer.

So to yesterday and the adventure of the elegant lunch.

I’d promised a girl I know that I’d go looking for her – she works somewhere near this cave here – and that involved a visit to the tourist office. Armed with a crazy ballpoint line on a map, a brochure for the hotel she works in and a peaked cap, off Higham trotted, only to find the piazza, the palazzo, an airconditioned bar, a cold coffee and her.

There is a tradition in all hot countries [of a certain decency] of the midday siesta but in my case, it’s been refined to prima siesta, [following elevenses] and seconda siesta, [following lunch]. Only right, wouldn’t you say?

In the prima siesta, having traipsed up that hill again, I thought it meet and right to go through the hotel’s brochure and correct the mistakes in English, which would either be welcomed or would brand me forever as a smarta—e in their eyes. Back down the hill to the hotel once more, I met the owners, was shoved into a chair and forced to eat a delish piadina lunch with two young ladies who’d just come off work.

But the piece de resistance was later, around 5 p.m., when the great trek with backpack to the other end of town took place, up hill and down dale, to meet up with Welshcakes and be presented with a flask of her homemade wine – is there anything that lady can’t turn her hand to [?] - before the return hike in the cool of the evening, around 9 p.m. which didn’t actually occur as I was kindly given a lift.

Today the task is to try to get an internet connection again and visit you at the same time. Bet you’re holding your breath in anticipation.

[things] which define who you are

One of the primary differences between Welshcakes and myself, apart from the obvious gender disparity, is that she has virtually all the things she was ever given or ever collected and I don't.

I've suggested she should open a sort of gallery and charge admission but that horrified her for some reason. I found the above pic at the embedded link and hasten to add that this is not WCL's style at all - after all, we're living in the heart of baroque down here and her things are ... well ... ornate.

Mine are functional, compact and there are not many left with me - they tend to be strewn across the globe. Don't know about you but I was never sentimental about "things". There is a rabbit's foot letter opener and a little jewellery box with a friend in Russia plus a Toby jug in Australia. That's about all I'd absolutely have to set eyes on again.

Paintings, electronic gear including a home studio, cars, houses and so on - they're all so many memories now, memories I daren't dwell on.

My goodness how things seem to accumulate. I came down here with one case and a cabin bag and to be honest, a friend did fly down with a second small wheelie pack some time ago but now I'm at the packing stage, somehow it won't all go in the packs. How on earth did that happen?

So once again it's a case of posting things to myself or else donating them to the poor. My PC in Russia at least found a good home with a friend's girlfriend.

To tell you the truth, I'm tired of this Flying Dutchman stuff and just want to buy into a base where they're not going to throw me out of the country, where I can set up and start to earn again. Advancing years put a different perspective on what, for a younger man, would be a great adventure.

So "things" don't occupy pride of place in the bookshelves in my mind but the mindset is to be admired in those for whom they're quite important.

[sunday cappuccino] and other things

At a time when the special "Home cooking World Music Festival" has kicked off on via Grimaldi in this town, it's time to do the film meme.

It was tough. For a start, are we talking "great" films or just "enjoyable" ones? Are we talking celebrated, historically significant or classic films or maybe those of an actor or actress we admire? The hotch-potch below is the best I could come up with, I'm afraid. In no particular order:

# Snatch - great Guy Ritchie vehicle and a multi-layered example of film making;

# Any Leslie Nielson, e.g. the 1st Naked Gun;

# Some Bonds, e.g. the first Daniel Craig one of 2007;

# Any Max von Sydow, e.g. Condor or Seventh Seal;

# Manchurian Candidate, esp. the original version with Sinatra;

# Either Twilight's Last Gleaming or The Parallax View - great film-making;

# Lord of the Rings Russian Goblin version - takes the p--s mercilessly;

# Di Nero, esp. out of character in a way - e.g. Analyse This;

# Russian "staroye kino" - old feel good films such as Queen of the Petrol Pumps or Little Red Riding Hood;

# Beluchi and Ackroyd - take your pick, e.g. Blues Brothers.

I pass this meme along to the first five people in the Mybloglog pic gallery in the sidebar. Have a lovely Sunday. It's hot here.

[bits and pieces] while it is still possible

Trouble in the blogosphere

There does seem to be something going on. Today I could not access Sicily Scene [perhaps it's not a problem for you]. JMB had troubles yesterday with posting. There were troubles with accessing Bloghounds some days ago.

Entirely conceivable that the problems could be local server issues or even the computers themselves. There has been an increase in blogs coming up as potential spam also, so it seems. One to keep our eyes on.

The sphere itself appears to be under assault, doesn't it? Look at China for a start but the U.S. is going in for this big time as well. If you were a betting person, how long would you say independent opinion on the web can exist for? One month, one year, one decade?

Trouble in your sphere

I really dislike how some people go in for the Four Yorshiremen Syndrome and feel obliged to respond: "You think you have troubles. You're in paradise, my son. Oh what I wouldn't give to be in your position. Now, as for me, I really do have problems," as if it were some kind of competition.

We can't assume anything about how genuinely bad other people's circumstances are. I happen to know of some fellow bloggers' current woes and though they're different in nature, they're no less debilitating in their own way. I'd not like to be in their shoes and wouldn't swap mine.

What can we do? Help can only go so far, though we'd wish to help indefinitely. If I ever get to find some sort of peace and stability myself, one of the first things I'll do is try to repay the many kindnesses.

Trouble in my sphere

My N1 difficulty is apparent statelessness and so Monday, on current reckoning, will be the last day I can reliably post on my site. I've been able to keep the blog going since late May only through the good grace of Welshcakes, for whom it has been a real imposition, despite her never once complaining and to her go eternal thanks.

A quantum shift in my status sometime next week will bring the current phase to an end and if posts appear, then they will have been due to good luck but at the same time can't be relied on to continue. There is a point soon when they will stop altogether, possibly to reappear a week or so later, possibly not.

Government bodies

Much is written of DEFRA, the NHS and so on but I'd like to mention the FCO. One can only report as one finds and whatever the outcome of negotiations with this body, possibly not to my liking, possibly a blessed relief, I have to say that they have been courteous and helpful to a fault and should take a bow. Our diplomatic missions in other countries really are a pleasure to have to deal with.

Sicilian friendliness

I'm not in a position to judge the Milanese or Florentines but I can report that the people of the deep south here are rather special. It's just been one friendly face after another and my time would have been even more of a pleasure, had the official difficulties not pressed down so on the brain.

The scenery, the panorama and sweeping vistas are a sight for sore eyes and the dusky landscape burns itself into your psyche after a time.

Small pleasures

Today, we'll go down the hill to the Consorzio for our regular Saturday repast. We printed out the post Welshcakes did on the staff and she'll present it to them - the last opportunity before their own hiatus-vacanza. It will be hot out there today, if yesterday is anything to go by - it was 38 degrees - but the olive tree is a boon.

The whole town closes down next week and those who have not already left town for the country will most likely do so.

Readers of this blog

Have as good a summer's end as you can under your current circumstances and I do mean it sincerely. I'll post when I can.

[12 movie meme] hmmmm

Ordo's tagged me here and I'll try to get mine up [no, that didn't come out right] tomorrow.

[restructuring transport] some vision, some willpower, some money

In a BBC article in 2000, Alex Kirby reported:

A £500m revamp of Britain's ageing canal network has been unveiled. The two-stage scheme by British Waterways will restore or build over 300 miles (480 kilometres) of canals and waterways. It has been estimated there are between 20,000 and 25,000 boats on the British Waterways network and a similar number on the River Thames.

The first phase, to open some 220 miles (350 km) of canals and structures, will be completed in 2002 and includes the Anderton Boat Lift. The 115-ft- (35-m-) high Falkirk Wheel in Scotland is the world's first rotating boat lift and will open on 1 May.

A programme of nine further canal restoration and new waterway schemes is being announced by British Waterways in partnership with an independent charity, the Waterways Trust. Covering 100 miles (160 km) of waterways, from London to the Lake District

George Greener, chairman of British Waterways, said:

Canals were catalysts for economic growth two centuries ago, and with our partners we're restoring and opening them as fast as they were originally built. Our current programme is set to deliver £100 million into local economies every year, from Scotland to the south of England, and to create 13,000 new permanent jobs.

The other restorations were:

• Chesterfield Canal
• Huddersfield Narrow Canal. This involved reopening the Standedge Tunnel - the UK's longest, highest and deepest canal tunnel
• Kennet and Avon Canal.
• The Millennium Link reconnecting the Forth & Clyde and Union canals between Glasgow and Edinburgh and coast-to-coast across Scotland.
• Rochdale Canal
The nine new building and restoration projects are:
• Bedford and Milton Keynes Waterway
• Bow Back Rivers, a network of tributaries of the River Lee navigation in east London
• Cotswold Canals
• Droitwich Canals
• Foxton Inclined Plane, on the Leicester Line of the Grand Union Canal
• Liverpool Extension to the Leeds and Liverpool Canal, which will link the national network to the port's spectacular waterfront
• Manchester, Bolton and Bury Canal
• Montgomery Canal, an internationally important habitat for floating water plantain
• The northern reaches of the Lancaster Canal
• Sapperton tunnel will reopen in May

Yet Anne McIntosh, Vale of York MP and Shadow Environment Minister, reported something a little different in late 2007:

[There] is growing concern among those who use the canals that cuts to government funding for British Waterways will adversely affect the maintenance and enjoyment of the UK's canal network.

Through no fault of their own, British Waterways, the Inland Waterways Association and other agencies funded by the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, have had their budgets cut. This has been largely due to the fact that Defra has overspent by £115m … following animal health crises such as foot and mouth and bird flu.

It costs £125m annually to maintain our canals. Even after the cuts that have been imposed, British Waterways has only 85 per cent of the money needed to fulfil that obligation.

It has been suggested that boaters will shoulder much of the burden, with mooring fees set to rise dramatically and annual licence fees to rise by a third. … Maintenance of the canal network has been further hit by the effect of the flooding this summer. British Waterways has admitted that £3.8m of maintenance this year has been deferred.

This is particularly pertinent at a time when the Government would like to see fewer foreign holidays made and greater encouragement of the holiday opportunities in this country. The canal network is also extremely useful to transport freight. Moving freight by water in this way is several times more environmentally sustainable than doing so by road, and this method takes lorries off the congested road network. Water freight makes a major contribution to the UK's economy and employs more than 200,000 people.

A reader, Keith L, further commented:

Canals and waterways are among various parts of Government which have unfortunately been lumped into the mega-dept of DEFRA and are unjustifiably losing out because of the massive incompetence of the Agriculture part of the dept. Canals would be better classed as Transport, or even Culture, out of the hands of the non-farmers who run farming. They are too important to fall victim to this unfair funding penalty.

Clearly, the canals are suffering from “interesting” accounting at the DEFRA level. Add to this, Gallimaufry’s comment in the last post on the matter on this blog:

The problem is gradient and your photo of a flight of locks illustrates the point. Motorways and trunk roads can have steeper gradients (yet additional climbing lanes are needed for lorries) than rail and canals. Massive areas of land would need to be turned into locks and reservoirs to satisfy their demands for water. It would be easier to flood the whole country. Also the canals (except Manchester Ship Canal)are too small for lighters carrying standard containers and are crammed with leisure users.

… and there is food for thought. I’d be the first to agree that the British terrain, particularly in hilly areas with very steep gradients pose engineering problems but query whether the sum total of water used would necessarily increase if it is using annually renewable sources.

A glance at the map of original canals and rivers shows that water can be diverted and not at any greater cost than laying miles of new motorways. I suspect, from Calum’s comment:

James, the Sicilian sun and/or wine has softened your brain. :-)

… that it is more a case of mind set, of our dependence on the fast, jet powered lifestyle where we can’t bear to be without the things we believe we need for even a short time. Yes, the hilly areas might well be better served by rack rail – if the Swiss can do it, why can’t we? Yes, airship might well be the way forward to transport people over longer distaqnces.

Look, this might be an idea from cuckoo land and yet that’s precisely where we’re now headed with soaring fuel prices and the whole infrastructure of society readjusting to more contained lifestyles.

Just a thought anyway. And how beautifully sustainable such a rearrangement of transportation would prove to be.

[sicily scene] culinary report card

Some readers out there might like a straight-from-the-horse's-mouth, inside report on Welshcakes' cooking after a certain time experiencing same in this sunny part of Sicily.

By way of establshing some sort of bona fides on the matter, I've eaten my way through France, most of Europe, Mexico, the North American continent, Asia and the antipodes and can safely report:

My goodness, this lady can cook!

Sicilian cooking likes strong tastes and uses a lot of sea salt. This latter doesn't particularly agree with me but the other essential ingredient - the olive oil - does and is vital to the success of many dishes, particularly the homemade breads.

Welshcakes does not just produce bread - she produces breads of varying textures and styles, each strictly according to recipe. Whereas you or I might slap in this or slosh in that, our Sicilian chef here measures precisely, times equally precisely and allows pots of comestibles to slow cook or stand as the case may be.

This allows for inventive touches, of course and many is the time that a dab of honey or the use of oranges has added that extra little something to the dish of the moment. If Welshcakes could be called "wicked", it is at these times when she adds the unexpected to the mix with a wry smile.

There is no rushing of any kind allowed. After one particular lunch, Welshcakes opined that she'd have to get a rope to tie me down to the table at lunchtime. You see, I'm one of those eat and run types - most certainly not the done thing in Sicily.

Having said that, I do like the things she just "whips up", such as the chicken and artichoke salad on a bed of greenery last evening. If we need a snack, she might take some prosciutto and greenery and wrap it round grissini or breadsticks.

This evening we are invited into the countryside and will experience Sicilian pizza of a different variety. Though looking forward to this, I am more than happy to stay home and eat what the lady here produces in her ever-planning mind. Wish I had a euro for every time we sit down with a glass of fruit juice and she has the pad out, thoughtfully thinking out which ingredients need to be bought the next day.

Incidentally, I'm not a total drone. As kitchen hand and scullery maid, I'm sometimes brought into the process and have even been known to chop a few vegetables on occasions, on the road to some new culinary masterpiece emerging from the oven two hours later.

Nigella eat your heart out. [Well actually, best to delete that last sentence.] Next report - the hairdresser, the cosmetician and the sheer elegance of Welshcakes' Italian dress style.

[fuel crisis] why not go maritime?

There was some great reading yesterday with Jam's story of the Cagots but today is equally interesting, with Gallimaufry's take on steam-powered vehicles. William Gruff came in with an interesting comment and an idea occurred to me, spurious at first, I admit but then I saw the possibilities.

It might just work.

1. All new road projects become canals, which take far less investment to construct - not the narrow canals of the past but broad "four lane" jobs with locks for the hills.

2. Existing roads can be converted over a twenty year period, thereby spreading the cost.

3. Small craft of the catamaran and junk sail [or lug sail] variety would be built cheaply, far cheaper than new cars and can ply the canals which link major waterways.

Objections

1. The fuel and construction sectors would never abide it.

Answer: They would if they had a stake in the canalization of the whole country ... plus fuel is simply losing all appeal as an investment. For those who didn't want to sail, crop fuelled putt-putts could be used as well.

2. The transport and cargo sectors would be decimated.

Answer; Why? Look how much more could be moved by water.

3. The whole pace of life would slow down unbearably, transport times, ordering of goods from another centre would triple in time and so on.

Answer: Yes. And what?

4. People would be forced into the very new-feudalism which libertarians are now railing against.

Answer: Yes, that's so. Three acres and a cow again. So, for that very reason, the globalists might just go for it, with available fuel swung into defence.

If one thinks about it, you could see how it would improve the whole mood of the nation - the noise, pollution, stress for the average person ... plus the globalists would be happy.

Also, Britain has a maritime history, the people are no strangers to inland waters. So why not?

[one question quiz] are you educated?

Who is Google's biggest client? [This means single user and including any new clients of the last few days.]

Answer is below in white.

The NSW Department of Education

[suez] end of an empire

This is the Wiki article abridged and paraphrased . You can read the whole thing through, view the summary below or just click out with a sigh. :)


The Suez Canal was opened in 1869, having been financed by the French and Egyptian governments. Technically, the territory of the canal proper was sovereign Egyptian territory, and the operating company, the Universal Company of the Suez Maritime Canal (Suez Canal Company) was an Egyptian-chartered company, originally part of the Ottoman Turkish Empire.

To the British, the canal was the ocean link with its colonies in India, the Far East, Australia, and New Zealand and the area as a whole became strategically important. Thus, in 1875, the British government of Benjamin Disraeli bought the Egyptian share of the operating company, obtaining partial control of the canal's operations and sharing it with mostly-French private investors.

In 1882, during the invasion and occupation of Egypt, the United Kingdom took de facto control of the canal proper, finance and operation. The Convention of Constantinople (1888) declared the canal a neutral zone under British protection. In ratifying it, the Ottoman Empire agreed to permit international shipping to freely pass through the canal, in time of war and peace.

In 1948, the British Mandate of Palestine ended, the British forces withdrew from Palestine, and Israel declared independence. Britain's military strength was spread throughout the region, including the vast military complex at Suez with a garrison of some 80,000.

[Then came the Islamic rise in Egypt and increasingly frosty post-war relations between Britain and Egypt.]

In October 1951, the Egyptian government unilaterally abrogated the 1936 Anglo-Egyptian treaty, the terms of which granted Britain lease on the Suez base for 20 years. Britain refused to withdraw from Suez. The price of such a course of action was a steady escalation in increasingly violent hostility towards Britain.

[Now followed the removal of the Egyptian monarchy, increasing Arab obstruction of the canal and a 1953-54 attempt by Britain to mend relations. They would withdraw the garrison gradually if they could influence the canal zone. Nasser was unpopular at home for this agreement and Egypt also saw Jordan and Iraq as a threat, those two being friendly towards Britain.

Now came Nasser's civil unrest and obstruction of Britain across the arab world, coupled with the Czechoslovakian arms deals, bringing vast weapons reserves to the middle-east and cutting the reliance on western arms.]

On May 16th, 1956, Nasser officially recognized the People's Republic of China. Washington withdrew all American financial aid for the Aswan Dam project on July 19th. Nasser's response was the nationalization of the Suez Canal.

After the American government didn't support the British protests, the British government decided for the military intervention against Egypt to avoid the complete collapse of British prestige in the region.

However, direct military intervention ran the risk of angering Washington and damaging Anglo-Arab relations. As a result, the British government concluded a secret military pact with France and Israel that aimed at regaining the Suez Canal.

[Now followed various meetings and then ...]

Three months after Egypt's nationalization of the canal company, a secret meeting took place at Sèvres, outside Paris. Britain and France enlisted Israeli support for an alliance against Egypt.

The parties agreed that Israel would invade the Sinai. Britain and France would then intervene, instructing that both the Israeli and Egyptian armies withdraw their forces to a distance of 16 km from either side of the canal.

The British and French would then argue that Egypt's control of such an important route was too tenuous, and that it needed be placed under Anglo-French management.

[Britain failed to inform the U.S., expecting that it would accede to the fait accompli. Israel began the attack on October 29th, 1956. It was messy but came to this point ...]

On November 3, 20 F4U-7 Corsairs from the 14.F and 15.F Aéronavale taking off from the French carriers Arromanches and La Fayette, attacked the Cairo aerodrome. Nasser responded by sinking all 40 ships present in the canal, closing it to further shipping until early 1957.

[However ...]

The operation to take the canal was highly successful from a military point of view, but was a political disaster due to external forces.

The Eisenhower administration forced a cease-fire on Britain, Israel, and France which it had previously told the Allies it would not do. The U.S. demanded that the invasion stop and sponsored resolutions in the UN Security Council ...

Part of the pressure that the United States and the rest of NATO used against Britain was financial, as President Eisenhower threatened to sell the United States reserves of the British pound and thereby precipitate a collapse of the British currency.

[Various embargos and the criticism by the Commonwealth at a time when this represented the last vestige of the Empire also pressured Britain. The pound was pressured and Eden resigned.

The main fallout was that France and Britain were weakened in international eyes, world power effectively shifted to the superpowers and France fell out with its allies, with some justification this time, promoting its own interests and supposedly giving nuclear secrets to Israel.

Could Britain have played it better?

Yes, of course. The leadership relied on the old Empire clout too much but that was understandable, given the history of Britain in Palestine and Suez. In this blogger's eyes, the most significant factor though was the refusal of the U.S. to help, coupled with its out and out obstruction in the end.

If Britain had brought the U.S. into the game, I doubt it would have altered much. There would have been equal hostility to America and though the military operation still would have been successful, Britain would have to have conceded the whip hand to the U.S. This was a slap in the face of Britain's prestige, which MacMillan acknowledged was the new reality in his willingness to accommodate the Americans from that point forward.

It would be nice to think that a Churchill, Thatcher or Ian Botham type could have steered a better course with a lot of "side" to it but one wonders how much better they would have done.]

[non news] sky beats it into shape

We were watching Sky News last night and this Anna Jones was trying to beat up the Los Angeles quake yesterday.

Well, it's not as if it is the first time its happened - I mean they were sort of forewarned, weren't they?

She had a local radio station type online and was asking if people were terrified or injured or whatever and he kept replying with words like "mild", "normal" and so on. She tried a few more descriptive words like "major quake" and "loss of life" but it was clear the local wasn't buying so she brought out her trump:

"Is this the one before the Big One Los Angleles has been expecting?"

... or words to that effect. We were smiling at her attempts to beat it up, all the while nice scenic shots of the city and environs were being shown. Suddenly the camera zoomed in on a puddle at a crossroads - could this have been due to the quake?

Giving up on that, Sky cut to Belgrade and waited for the 50 or so hooligans to attack the riot police. Again the reporter wasn't buying the sensationalist line. He spoke of expecting it and that it was far fewer people than the last time, mostly well behaved.

Poor old Sky went to commercial then came back with the 7.5 seconds when the police actually were using truncheons on hooligans who'd thrown bricks and a line like "violent clashes on the streets of Belgrade".

Reminds me of Python's Ralph Mellish sketch:

Scarcely able to believe his eyes, Ralph Mellish looked down. But one glance confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush, on the side of the road, there was no severed arm, no dismembered trunk of a man in his late fifties, no head in a bag – nothing - not a sausage.

For Ralph Mellish, this was not to be the start of any trail of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion, nor any web of lies, which would, had he been involved, surely have led him to no other place, than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.

Quality Aussie Poems Mate

I know that James likes poetry, so I thought he might like this.

While lions have their pride
Elephants take you for a ride
But a llama could be calmer
For a farmer who seeks karma

Beaut Mate

More here and thanks Authorblog: Verse And Worse

Whilst we're on a theme of roses...

Whilst we're on a theme of roses...

I proudly present the White Rose, the Yorkshire flag.



Further to this, John, here.

Griselda writes of rugger, roses and rubbers

Introducing Griselda again, readers. You can catch her previous two posts here and here. Her website is here. A very warm welcome again to the columnist from the Greater Titcup Echo, in the west country.


More advice for the lovelorn

Dear Griselda,

You seem like a sensible sort of girl, a good sort a man could get along with – a girl with common sense. So perhaps you could explain my lady love’s recent moods.

I just don’t understand her any more. Only the other day, for instance, she went into a sulk forever because I hadn’t noticed her change in hair style. All right, it used to be waist length and brunette and now it’s cropped and a golden colour but still … how is a busy man supposed to notice these things?

Lately she keeps asking me what colour her eyes are – well, how should I know that? I hardly stare at them, do I? Even last weekend, she went beserk when she found that the Aber Rugger Club’s annual do was players and officials only and she’d gone and spent £500 on some dressy thing which hit the wallet pretty badly, I can tell you.

It took ages calming her down and I missed the sports results on the Beeb, damn it.

Everything came to a head yesterday when she asked me if I loved her and I said she was a part of me, almost part of the furniture, in fact. For some reason I had a chair thrown at me for that and it just missed poking my eye out.

I really don’t want to make a mistake now her birthday’s coming up sometime (she keeps dropping hints) and I’m at a loss what to buy. I thought maybe some Aber Rugger Club earmuffs might go well with her new evening dressy thing.

What do you think, Griselda? I’m at my wits’ end. If you can sort this one out for me, there’s a pint of Brains coming your way.

Dai Llewellyn-Jones

Well, Dai

I think I too would have been a little put out to be compared to furniture and you were probably quite lucky it was only a chair. My best advice is to watch this video below and by the way, mine is a Pimms N1, boyo.

Griselda

Dear Griselda

I’d prefer to keep my identity to myself if you don’t mind but the thing is, it’s all so tedious.

Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning, yes. It’s all well and fine, you know, his ex-wife moaning about three in a marriage but those were exciting times, being the other woman, you might say.

And now?

I knew public life was never going to be a bed of roses, what with his sense of destiny and so on but I feel more than a little sympathy with Cecilia Sarkozy, I can tell you.

You’re probably wondering why I would be writing to a provincial rag like yours but your fame has spread beyond Lower Titcup, you have to understand – my son and yourself are both budding cookery writers, after all.

So the thing is – what to do? Perhaps you could throw this open to your readers.

Ex-Gloucestershire Lady

Dear Ex-Gloucestershire Lady

Well, as you say, it’s best to throw this open to the readers and without further ado, over to you, readers.

Love and kisses,

Griselda


And finally, Griselda’s household tip to sign off with, stolen from Woman's Realm: Tips and Wrinkles [Pan, 1972]

Rubbers and how to use them. Make rubber gloves last twice as long: turn them inside out and stick plasters on the tips of the fingers. Before throwing them away, cut the cuffs into strips and they make wonderful rubber bands. Lastly, if you put a few drops of glycerine in water, this makes the rubber more flexible.

See you soon.

[illegal immigrants] to exclude or to house?

Please look at Welshcakes' current post on the incidents in the Cathedral. Illegal immigrants went into a church and occupied it, from which action police were then involved. Welshcakes concludes:

Does a country have a right, or even a duty, to look after its own citizens first? On the other hand, surely everyone has a right to be treated with some human dignity? What would any of us do if we suddenly found ourselves homeless through no fault of our own?

Many, many questions to think on and I have others too. I was reading in La Sicilia [dead wood version] how in Genoa there is also a bunfight over a proposed mosque being built.

Phew!

Am I an extremist? I hope not, I really do, as I lived among muslims for 13 years, worked with and for them and can only say they were fine people in my eyes. There's no ingratitude here. There were mosques everywhere and I sometimes went into them with muslims and discussed their religion.

More recently, some readers know I was close to some Indonesian friends [and still consider myself a friend.]

One of the reasons for the Italian intransigence on Islam coming in is their observation of what went wrong in Britain. Having said that, I have now invited trouble upon myself. So be it. On the other hand, the plight of the refugees is a humanitarian one - these people need to have something to eat, they need to have the dignity to be able to just wash or lay the head down somewhere.

They are mainly muslim and their desperation to flee their countries or die is an indictment of those countries. I strongly suspect that the powers that be in those countries know full well what they're doing through their oppression - both offloading excess population and indirectly bringing Islam back into southern Italy.

Welshcakes took the point of view - how can a country say yes to a Christian church, yes to a Buddhist and Jewish but no to a mosque? My answer is that you have to look at the track records of each of these. I ask you now - would most Brits feel that the Jewish synagogue was a major threat to Britain? How about a Christian church? And so on. Of course not.

And why not? Assimilation of the group - most groups coming in do assimilate with the local society. Not necessarily adopting all so-called "British culture" per se but certainly willing to get on with life here as a Brit.

They don't demand special rooms during Ramadan or refuse to accept public housing because it is not to their specifications. Most religions and other groups coming in don't have houses of worship in which trouble is stirred up by extremists. Most don't even have extremists.

And don't forget the question of sheer numbers.

In the end, this question comes down to two things - firstly, are all religions and cultures equivalent or are there, possibly, some groups which really do have a track record of trouble coming out of them and export that trouble en masse? Secondly - is democracy their inalienable right, the right to incite etc.?

Or does the classic liberal maxim apply - freedom to do anything as long as it doesn't impinge on anyone else? The Italians have a fierce attachment to democracy but they've drawn the line at Islamic inroads along the British pattern. That's their decision. Democracy yes - but for registered citizens.

So to return to the poor boat people in the cathedral. Why would they have chosen to go to a Christian cathedral and not, say, to the local police station or hostel or mission for homeless people? Why would a group of muslims choose a Christian church to occupy? Minor point perhaps.

I don't believe we can trot out relativistic and equivalent positions without also considering track records of certain populations. For example, the Somalis are well known here for their intransigence. They can argue this out with the Italians - I'm just mentioning it. I'm certainly not getting into the Roms.

Whilst reasonable people would surely concede that the trouble comes from a small proportion of a population, it still happens though, doesn't it?

The Italians have decided that they don't want a bar of it and this is a proud nation which reveres its tolerance in these matters, which is evident in all other dealings with the Clandestini. But now a state of emergency has been declared in this country and no one really knows what to do.

I certainly don't know either.

You might like to look at my previous post on the Clandestini and Tony Sharp's post link within it.

[the doha dodo] logically impossible

The whole point in trade is that you get access to their markets and can access their technology, whilst protecting your own producers, e.g. in grain and minerals.

At a meeting like Doha, it's slightly ridiculous because each side is never going to concede protection of its farmers but at the same time, it wants access to the other nations' markets.

Pascal Lamy's 12% protection proposal is fraught because the very 12% each nation protects is precisely the one which the other countries wish to access. No one's going to settle for second best and offer their best to partners. China in particular is not going to do that.

Therefore Doha is still a Dodo, even before its official close.

[bart simpson] now the exhibition

From late July to August, you can see the exhibition inspired by Bart Simpson.

All you have to do is motor up to Glasgow, catch a flight to Iceland and ask at the nearest bar. Should be well worth going to see.

Presuming you're crazy about Bart that is, as seen through Icelandic eyes.

[terrorist attack] perhaps

They may well be as claimed by Turkish security:

Police said they believed the attackers were members of a Turkish Sunni fundamentalist group, the Great Eastern Islamic Raiders Front.

... or they may not. There've been a number of instances of groups being slow to claim responsibility and that smacks of a broader destabilization plan. I always think one must look at the net effect of such a thing - whose attitudes does it harden and why would anyone want those attitudes hardened?

In other words, who are all the groups or countries who stand to gain overall?

I can't see the killing itself as the main object. On the other hand, there is a type of law-unto-himself person who just gets a kick out of seeing the big explosion. The sniper killings in the U.S. spring to mind here.

Might well be wrong.

[british seaside resorts] one beneficiary of the recession

Rather pleased, actually, that many Brits are turning back to a long neglected part of their country - the seaside resort. Morecambe in particular holds an interest for me.

When it lost out to Blackpool with its greatly overrated illuminations, even the Winter Gardens, Frontierland, the Midland Hotel and the rest of it couldn't save it - that is, until now. Now the British holidaymakers are returning due to soaring costs elsewhere but it's a sorry sight to return to.

It's a bit like neglecting a trusty car which had served you well for some new-fangled piece of machinery, only to have to sell it and return to your old faithful, now half corroded and careworn but with a smile on its grill that you have returned.

Morecambe's tides made the news not so long ago with the deaths of those Chinese fishermen; it has always been a problem, necessitating a Queen's Guide to the Sands and yet ... and yet ... isn't that part of the adventure, like Lindisfarne on the other coast?

It would be lovely to see places like this drag themselves into the 21st century and offer some of the things overseas holiday spots offer, with just that touch of Britishness to them and a rich history to boot. Drop some of the tackiness and it could take off in the new millennium.

UPDATE at No Clue on seaside resorts.

UPDATE UPDATE at Weston-super-Mare

[justice] what lengths would you go to

Older readers would recall the Winslow Boy, the play by Terrence Rattigan, where a boy is wrongly accused of stealing and his father almost breaks his family in getting the boy exonerated.

Witness this one in the photograph. It was when a black soldier was accused of participating in a lynching and:

Despite their protests of innocence -- and the government's own secret investigation showing the prosecution's case was poisonously flawed -- the men were sentenced to hard labor and forfeiture of military pay and benefits, and were given dishonorable discharges.

Now they have finally been exonerated but at what cost? In Agatha Christie's Tuesday Club Murders and other stories, a similar theme appears quite often - that someone is accused but in this case is not punished but merely suspected for the rest of his or her life.

Example was the trusted servant whom the husband and wife then no longer trusted anywhere around money or valuables when a brooch went missing. She went to her grave, the servant, still under the cloud. Later the wife found her brooch down the back of a chest of drawers.

UPDATE Monday - the veteran who was the subject of the report has now died after receiving his apology.

[drunk passengers] rear deck urgently required

What the hell is going on these days? Here it is again:

Two drunk British women went on a rampage on a charter plane, trying to hit a flight attendant with a bottle of vodka and attempting to open a cabin door as the aircraft was cruising over Austria at 10,000 metres, police said today.

Just posted on that recently and so we have more evidence that we need a rear deck and railing on aircraft.

It's simple. Passenger gets drunk, is issued with an auto-opening parachute and food pack, then courteously shown the rear deck exit.

He or she does the rest.

[saturday caption] add your comments

From MSN

[the unexpected] never at a convenient time

Qatar interior from Wiki

I'm sorry to go on about yesterday's issue of the Qantas flight, when it has been blanket covered by the media but it still really chills me:

"Seeing the hole caused a lot of emotion. People were physically shaking. Many realised how close they were to their own mortality."

It's not just that I've done that run many times and with various incidents - it's something more.

I was once onboard when the flight took off on the second leg to Australia and they told us that a red light was flashing and they were returning to the airport. That delayed us and it turned out to be nothing.

Another was when we were about to take off [from Bangkok this time] and they then decanted us from the plane, all baggage was removed and placed in a large circle and passengers were asked to identify their baggage, open it and await inspection.

Yet another time, we were in the air and I was nervous for some reason. I told the stewardess [sounds really weak, this] about the feeling and she took me up to the cockpit where the flight engineer told me this was the flight which had indeed fallen 15 000 feet on it's last run to Australia from this airport. He explained that the autopilot worked on wave patterns in the air but sometimes these acted irregularly and the plane took some time to pick up on it. No one had been hurt.

More broadly, I was on a BA flight to Heathrow in 2000 and all was normal until we approached Heathrow. Suddenly we dropped 10 000 feet in a few seconds, the airbrakes outside the window shuddering but all the way down it had seemed a controlled drop and hardly anyone was badly affected.

The pilot had been told by aircraft control to immediately be at a different level and now he was told to loop round until a gate was found. What exacerbated it was when he came onto the intercom and said that if we cared to look out of the starboard window, we'd see another plane but not to worry. He'd also been asked to circle round London until a gate became available.

In April-May, getting away from aircraft for awhile, I was doing the usual routine, snug and secure in Russia, then found myself in Sicily in a whirlwind conjunction of events. I have to tell you that that was interesting but a bit jangly on the nerves. It's now possibly arising again in August, possibly not. It's up in the air [sorry for the excruciating pun].

Mortality - how things suddenly drop out.

How to prepare? You can't, simply can't. You just have to meet it as it comes. Promise not to get religious here but it definitely helps a hell of a lot to have some sort of faith as a way through. Also, I suspect all your pigeons come home to roost now too - as you've acted yourself, so it comes back on you now.

It might have just been an incident on a Qantas flight to Australia but it had me thinking very deeply about everything. Don't laugh but yesterday I was in the caffe sipping a coffee and watched them opening the bar in the roundabout between the caffe and the church. I saw the church door open and though I'm not Catholic, I went in there for a while.

Perhaps time to end this before it turns maudlin.

[flight] amazing how these things stay up there

Think they were pretty lucky but the procedures were obviously good.

[flying dutchman] on and on and on

Thinking about this lately:

The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ghost ship that is cursed to sail the seas for eternity. It is often said to have a ghostly glow, and like many other supernatural entities throughout folklore, it is said to herald danger or doom for those who see it.

Quite a few sightings of the Flying Dutchman have been reported throughout history, and stories about the ghost ship's origins abound. Many versions of the Flying Dutchman story set the scene of the ship's loss at the Cape of Good Hope, the Southern tip of Africa.

Nautical version of the Wandering Jew perhaps.

[your cash] in a shoebox in your cupboard

From the Asia Times:

Since a major effect of inflation is psychological, the fact that inflationary pressure has decisively moved back into the 1970s range is important.

At 5% per annum, inflation cannot be ignored. Investors cannot buy fixed-income securities without taking account of the fact that the principal of those securities will have devalued by more than half by the time they are repaid (if they are of 15 years or longer maturity.)

The combination of inflation and un-indexed income and capital gains taxes rapidly raises the tax rate on capital returns to an extremely high level, depressing still further the incentive to save.

For the layperson, this last seems the key to me - the disincentive to save. So in the light of this, what to make of Sackerson's post today, suggesting, via Mish:

The entire US banking system is insolvent.

In Russia there is a long tradition of keeping the money in a shoebox in the top cupboard, keeping it in hard currency and never trusting anyone's exhortations to part with it.

Griselda Writes ... Advice for the Lovelorn

Griselda Haveschott is the lady from Lower Titcup who opened her account as a guest blogger yesterday. You might recall her version of Stargazy Pie. True to her word, she's this day sent in part of her popular "advice for the lovelorn" column which she writes for the Greater Titcup Echo. She assures me that the two letters from the public below are as genuine as genuine can be.

Hello readers of James' blog, Griselda again with my July 22nd advice column in the GTE. James felt it might assist his readers with their personal problems as well:

Dear Griselda,

Please can you help me? Until a few weeks ago I thought I’d found Mr Right at last. This man is charismatic, witty, handsome and a wonderful lover. He brings me flowers and buys me expensive jewellery.

The thing is, though, that he won’t tell me where he lives or works and he won’t let me have his phone number – not even his mobile. He always leaves my flat before midnight and is never able to spend a bank holiday with me.

When he takes me out he makes me wear dark glasses, a high-collared Burberry and a headscarf tied just like the Queen ties hers. That’s not even fashionable, is it? And he says he has to keep his trenchcoat on and his trilby pulled down over his eyes everywhere he goes. I am beginning to think that we might look a little strange on Weston-super-Mare Pier in summer.

Do you think there could be a slight problem?

Mandy Eastborough
Love Lane

Well Mandy dear, we go back a long way, don't we and I know your thoughts on fashion. With the circle Her Majesty moves in, the Balmoral headgear is quite appropriate and you know there is still a vestige of loyalism in this country which likes to follow its monarch’s lead.

Now about your little problem. Are you talking about last Friday week when Brian came into the Brahms and Liszt with Jenny and while she went into the snug he was making eyes at you? Jenny tells me there was absolutely nothing in that, you know. No, I think perhaps you’re referring to another gentleman altogether and yes, there may well be a little problem there. Might I suggest you don your Queenly garb one more time, pop round to 51 Naseby Rd about 9.30 Saturday morning and have a quick peek?

Dear Griselda

Recently my wife and I gave a dinner party for eight at our new Tudor style near the north end of Rutting Forest. We'd toiled pretty much all day to produce the goods, only to have it ruined when one of the guests, who shall remain nameless, straight after the consomme, went out to his Beema for a CD which he then calmly came back and inserted in our player ... our player, mind ... after first switching off OUR background music, grunting, "Can't stand bloody Bon Jovi". Well, really!

What precisely is the etiquette regarding guests bringing music to get-togethers?

[Name withheld for fear of reprisals]

Ladies and gentlemen, Griselda now throws this one open to the readers for your thoughts on the matter. Should guests bring their own music, are we all being just a little oversensitive these days, could we not put up with our hosts' choice just for a couple of hours? Your responses gladly received.

Finally, two thoughts to leave you with, as I always do at the GTE:

Make sure you know where the main stopcock is in the house, that it is in working order and that everyone living in the house knows where it is. I pinched this from Woman's Realm: Tips and Wrinkles [Pan, 1972].

Also, I saw this in visiting some of James' blogfriends: Never trust a man with a beard.

A guide to the Yorkshire Dales - the jewel in the crown of Northern England

John Hirst reflects on the Yorkshire Dales:

A guide to the Yorkshire Dales - the jewel in the crown of Northern England

"The Yorkshire Dales is a region in the county of North Yorkshire in England. The Yorkshire Dales contains some of the most spectacular scenery on (and under) God's own Earth. Once you have set foot in a Yorkshire Dale, you will be touched with a magic that will stay with you all your life, as any local will tell you".

"Welcome to
digital Malham ...

On these pages you will find information on the areas of outstanding natural beauty which surround the Yorkshire Dales village of Malham.

We encourage you to take some time out and discover some of the geological treasures that lie within".

Malham Tarn






Malam Cove







Janet's Foss

"Foss is the old norse word for a waterfall or force and Janet (or Jennet) was belived to be the queen of the local fairies who lives behind the the fall in a cave".





Gordale Scar

"To the north of the Mid Craven Fault in the Malham Formation is Gordale Scar, which was carved as a meltwater channel beneath the Devensian ice-sheet. The sides of this gorge overhang to a considerable extent, suggesting that there was once a great cavern, the roof of which has subsequently collapsed".