I was sitting alone, fairly close to the witching hour, in our 300 year old house and had been staring at the blank page just mulling over how I would start today's blog when a sudden loud whooo-hoooo came from just behind me startling me into a spasm like jolt. Although I knew what it was (an Owl) I was unprepared for it to be perched at the end of the room, which of course it wasn't. No it had clearly perched on top of my chimney and the haunting sound of it's call reverberated down the flue and straight into my living room sending a cold shiver down my spine. Then after another call I heard a second owl across the road call back. After that, the mischievous deed done, my owl must have left to go and spook some other poor soul.
We do get a lot of visits from Tawny owls both in our garden and often on our chimneys and ordinarily I love it. I certainly prefer them to the screeching Barn owls.
The owl incident is the second time that I jumped as a result of an alarm going off today which is quite ironic as this morning my actual alarm did not go off at all, instead it reset itself to the factory default of 12:00. The second incident was an annoying beep, beep, beep coming from the conservatory. When I finally found the source it was a small portable radio. Now this radio is the worst designed radio, ever. It has lots of buttons for FM, AM, volume, tuning, memory, memory set, blah, blah, blah and including an alarm button. Unfortunately, not being a big radio, the alarm button is positioned in such a place that every time you move the 'portable' radio you cannot help but touch this particular button unwittingly setting into motion a course of events which eventually some hours later ends in the bloody thing going off. Sometimes it will startle you by just switching the radio on when you least expect it and you find that you have the dulcet tones of Bob Harris whispering to you from behind the herb plants on the windowsill at half past 10 at night. Whilst I'm sure Bob Harris is a jolly good fellow it is quite unnerving to think he is sitting on your windowsill.
I am frequently staggered (and voice this frustration just as frequently to my poor daughter) on how anything in this 'day and age' can be designed so poorly. I mean we have been making radios since the early 1900's, so why can't we get it right now? How can anyone let a design go backwards? Oh I can think of loads of examples of such nonsense like our new kettle which has a lid that is designed to be opened in such a way that you cannot help but accidentally turn the thing on in the process. All of a sudden you find that the empty kettle is hissing as it tries to boil nothing but air. Who designed this? who tested this? who gave a damn? Why didn't they just stick to an old design that is proven to work?
Now you see I'm on a Grumpy old man roll....... The problem is everyone seems to want to re-invent the wheel. We are paying too many people to try to improve the already perfect design. Take the humble Coffee shop Tea pot, been in use since the year dot and at some time the spout was perfected on that little silver teapot that they all use. Hoorahhhh! no more drips because someone finally worked out that you need a certain length of spout with a 'just so' pointy pouring bit at the end. No more drips! Well done everyone, now could we just let it lie please. Could we heck? And so today I still find that I sit in a Cafe, pour a cup of tea only to watch an irritating dribble of failure trickle back on the underside of the spout down the body of the teapot until it can go no further but to drip onto the saucer or table, or both. Then every time you lift your cup to sip on it you receive a warm brown splodge on your white T shirt. WHY, WHY, WHY are these things still sold and more importantly bought by cafes?
I simply do not understand why we still have to put up with such a basic stupidity.
How did I get onto this? Oh that was it, poorly designed radio/alarm. Then designers try to hide the function of something by making it look like something quite different. Many years ago I was on a canal holiday with some friends and during the evening I noticed one of them had a compact camera. Now being very much into photography I naturally picked it up and had a look at it.It seemed to be closed and I tried to open it by pressing a couple of buttons on the side but to no avail so I gave up and put it down promising myself that I would ask her to show me it in the morning. The next morning my friend was a tad grumpy, tired and clearly in no mood to show me her camera, so I did not mention it. However it turn out that she was annoyed and tired because "Some joker" had set her alarm to go off at 2 o'clock in the morning! Holding the alarm up as evidence I feel she saw the guilt on my face for clearly the camera was not a camera but an alarm. Poor design I say! (Shirley take this as a confession).
My last example of poor designed alarms (as I seem to have strayed on to this subject from the prompt of one brief visit from a Tawny owl) was at a cafe near Dover port. Alison, Myself and the two kids, when they were younger, were all having breakfast in this small Cafe before catching a ferry to France.
Some minutes after being served we started to hear a high pitched alarm which seemed to be close to us and probably coming from the front door. I called the waitress who couldn't find where the sound came from and as the noise was quite penetrating she went away returning shortly with the Manager. Now the Manager was perplexed and she too fully inspected the front door,opening it, looking around it and standing upon a chair to look on top of it. NOTHING.
I asked if it could be the burglar alarm, but it appeared that the alarm was a lot louder than that. She went outside to see if it was coming from there but there was no sign of the alarm, it was definitely coming from within . She spent a good ten minutes trying to establish the source until it seemed to slowly dim into silence and it was no more. Everyone was perplexed but The waitress went back to waiteressing, the Manager went back to phone her boss (to get an engineer out) and having finished our breakfast we put on our coats and headed to the car.
It was as I put my hand into my pockets to grab my keys that I felt an icy cold sensation on my finger tips and all of a sudden the penny dropped as to where the alarm was emanating from... you guessed it, Me!
For I was working in our Brighton Store and at the time it was a particularly violent branch to work in so as an aid I had been issued with a personal attack alarm. Well I had this in my pocket and it was the aerosol type. I can only assume that when I took my coat off in the Cafe it knocked the nozzle a little loose, not enough to give the full blown screech of a personal attack alarm but more like pinching the nozzle of a balloon letting a slow, continuous whining alarm seep out for some 15 minutes. The aerosol can was covered in ice as the propellant had totally leaked out. I was too embarrassed to to go back and confess, and anyway we'd be late for our ferry.
All I can say in my defence is....... POOR DESIGN!
Anyway back to the blog.....
I have not had the opportunity to show the neighbours the delights of our joint sewerage as they both work during daylight hours and so this is to be done next weekend. The situation went into panic mode a few days back when I went out into the back-garden to smell the familiar vile stench of pooh again.I immediately run around the garden checking all the 'flash point' manhole covers only to find that they had not become totally blocked. This was a conundrum as the smell was overpowering. I gathered the family and invited them all out to come and sniff for a sewerage smell. Frankly I thought that they showed a great lack of enthusiasm with Stephen coming out for 20 seconds confirming that my garden stank and returning back to the safety of the hall. This was better than Alison who barely stuck her head out of the door, but who clarified that it was a bit smelly. Now I knew it was strong because Alison has practically no sense of smell so for her nasal receptors to pick up anything is to know it is several times worse. Troubled I went to the front of the house and I could still smell it, then I went to the middle of the road and it was still stinking. Well now I was feeling a little embarrassed and I walked down the road some distance only to find that the smell was not diminishing and I must have gone about a hundred yards before it dawned on me that this was probably as a result of muck spreading on the nearby fields.
Now that, I thought, is a sewerage problem!
2,974
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Thursday, 17 November 2011
A genius, AND IN NORFOLK, who knew!
I wish to dedicate this blog to an amazing artist whose latest exhibition we visited in our nearest town of Holt. As we looked at these oil painting, water paintings and also pastels we were gob smacked at how good they were, if I could I'd have bought one but the cheapest was £1,500. They went up to £12,000 and more....
Why, you may ask, do I speak of this artist in particular? Well firstly he is a local lad and secondly he is a lad, that is he is just nine years old.
Now we all know that people hype these sort of stories up, but having seen an exhibition of Turners life's work and his ability at 9 years, well this kid is something else. He will never be a Turner but then Turner could never have been a Williamson.
Have a look at a few You Tube news stories..........
The August exhibition sold out in 11 minutes and raised over £150k, meanwhile the lad can be seen cycling his bike around town, because at the end of the day he is just a boy that draws and paints, but with a very remarkable gift.
I want to be jealous of his skill but I (actually all of us) just felt in awe of such a young talent and a privilage to be able to witness the beginnings of another master who we all think will be there with the greats.
Watch out for the name of Kieron Williamson.
Why, you may ask, do I speak of this artist in particular? Well firstly he is a local lad and secondly he is a lad, that is he is just nine years old.
Now we all know that people hype these sort of stories up, but having seen an exhibition of Turners life's work and his ability at 9 years, well this kid is something else. He will never be a Turner but then Turner could never have been a Williamson.
Have a look at a few You Tube news stories..........
The August exhibition sold out in 11 minutes and raised over £150k, meanwhile the lad can be seen cycling his bike around town, because at the end of the day he is just a boy that draws and paints, but with a very remarkable gift.
I want to be jealous of his skill but I (actually all of us) just felt in awe of such a young talent and a privilage to be able to witness the beginnings of another master who we all think will be there with the greats.
Watch out for the name of Kieron Williamson.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
So I headed off to the cesspits with an unhealthy keenness....
I hadn't met these neighbours yet, they had only moved in about 6 months ago and so, feeling a little guilty at not introducing myself previously, I headed off to talk dirty to them. The dirty part being, of course, the blocking of the drains. As I explained in my previous blog (and if you haven't read that one yet may I suggest you do so now) our drains were slowly drowning in their own excrement and for want of a better phrase, 'Trouble was brewing'.
I made a point of NOT being in my chemical warfare suit with my face mask on and carrying my drain rods in their case (which looks a little like a rifle case) as I went to see the neighbours. It may have sent out mixed messages and have been a little unnerving for them when they answered the door I felt.
Anyway, I knocked on their door and introduced myself, I explained the situation and that I was quite willing to try to clear the drains in their manholes. This appeared to be greeted with some appreciation and so I arranged to do it the next day whilst they were out, so as not to turn them too green.
The next day I dressed myself up in the kit, I had that look that could kill, or at least the look of a nutter in camouflage and I headed for the street. We are a one horse town and I did not meet anyone on the way to the neighbours, either there was no one out there or they were all diving for cover before I saw them.
When I got to the neighbours garden I could see 4 manhole covers, two of which I guessed were the redundant Cesspits. Up to the 1980's the house sewerage went through our pipes and into next doors cesspit where the fee for emptying them was shared. Then in 1984, or thereabouts, our village gained it's very own sewerage system Oooooooooo! So it appears that this was connected by taking a pipe from the cesspits out to the street and away.
So all was grand as no one had to empty any cesspits anymore. Well that is as we understand it. The two manholes that I expected to be part of my problem were, when I lifted them, just 2' deep and clearly only belonged to the neighbours house. My system had to have been at least 5' deep at this point but there were no other manholes, so I headed off to the cesspits with an unhealthy keenness, thinking that I may be able to clear mine directly from one of them.
For those of you that have seen Indiana Jones Raiders of the Lost Ark, where they lifted the lid of the Ark and with a little hiss the demons from hell were released, well you'd relate to this experience. I was very glad that I had my face mask on but it was fighting a losing battle against a stale pungent mephitic air (my New Word of the Day). I flung the cast iron lid back to reveal a glutinous black semi solid sludge with a small stream of something ungodly running through it. The Dictionary defines....
slurry [ˈslʌrɪ]n pl -ries (Chemistry) a suspension of solid particles in a liquid, as in a mixture of cement, clay, coal dust, manure, meat, etc. with water
Yep, that about describes what I was looking at and it was barely 18" below the lawn. This did not look like it was intending to drain away, in fact I rather expected a blobby bubble to slowly develop and then pop like one of those I had seen in the volcanic fields of Iceland.
Or a creature slowly rise from the murky dark depths just like a black & white Doctor Who episodes monster. That said if anything is alive in there then I'm a Monkeys Uncle.
There was nothing more that I could do so I moved onto the next one.
Again, I lifted the lid, Eeeewwwwwy. And again there was an unwelcome slurry in a tank that appears to be split into two. All the pits are bricked lined and must be very old. There was, and is, nothing further that I can do and so I reluctantly (ha,ha) replaced all the covers and made a tactical withdrawal.
I have found a local company that have quoted £150 per 1,000 litres pumped, what a lovely thought eh? I do hope that you're not a 'breakfast time' reader or you really won't thank me for this will you?
An average pit holds about a 1.000litres of .... stuff! So this may cost £300 BUT they tell me they will flush-out all the drains too so that should surprise a few rats hopefully.
Now I have to go back to my lovely neighbours and discuss.
As I said on the previous blog I feel this may be the beginning of a long drawn out, expensive saga or who knows the neighbour may agree to half of the cost, the guy will come on time and deal with all the problems. Maybe.... just maybe.
2,892
I made a point of NOT being in my chemical warfare suit with my face mask on and carrying my drain rods in their case (which looks a little like a rifle case) as I went to see the neighbours. It may have sent out mixed messages and have been a little unnerving for them when they answered the door I felt.
Anyway, I knocked on their door and introduced myself, I explained the situation and that I was quite willing to try to clear the drains in their manholes. This appeared to be greeted with some appreciation and so I arranged to do it the next day whilst they were out, so as not to turn them too green.
The next day I dressed myself up in the kit, I had that look that could kill, or at least the look of a nutter in camouflage and I headed for the street. We are a one horse town and I did not meet anyone on the way to the neighbours, either there was no one out there or they were all diving for cover before I saw them.
When I got to the neighbours garden I could see 4 manhole covers, two of which I guessed were the redundant Cesspits. Up to the 1980's the house sewerage went through our pipes and into next doors cesspit where the fee for emptying them was shared. Then in 1984, or thereabouts, our village gained it's very own sewerage system Oooooooooo! So it appears that this was connected by taking a pipe from the cesspits out to the street and away.
So all was grand as no one had to empty any cesspits anymore. Well that is as we understand it. The two manholes that I expected to be part of my problem were, when I lifted them, just 2' deep and clearly only belonged to the neighbours house. My system had to have been at least 5' deep at this point but there were no other manholes, so I headed off to the cesspits with an unhealthy keenness, thinking that I may be able to clear mine directly from one of them.
For those of you that have seen Indiana Jones Raiders of the Lost Ark, where they lifted the lid of the Ark and with a little hiss the demons from hell were released, well you'd relate to this experience. I was very glad that I had my face mask on but it was fighting a losing battle against a stale pungent mephitic air (my New Word of the Day). I flung the cast iron lid back to reveal a glutinous black semi solid sludge with a small stream of something ungodly running through it. The Dictionary defines....
slurry [ˈslʌrɪ]n pl -ries (Chemistry) a suspension of solid particles in a liquid, as in a mixture of cement, clay, coal dust, manure, meat, etc. with water
Yep, that about describes what I was looking at and it was barely 18" below the lawn. This did not look like it was intending to drain away, in fact I rather expected a blobby bubble to slowly develop and then pop like one of those I had seen in the volcanic fields of Iceland.
Or a creature slowly rise from the murky dark depths just like a black & white Doctor Who episodes monster. That said if anything is alive in there then I'm a Monkeys Uncle.
There was nothing more that I could do so I moved onto the next one.
Again, I lifted the lid, Eeeewwwwwy. And again there was an unwelcome slurry in a tank that appears to be split into two. All the pits are bricked lined and must be very old. There was, and is, nothing further that I can do and so I reluctantly (ha,ha) replaced all the covers and made a tactical withdrawal.
I have found a local company that have quoted £150 per 1,000 litres pumped, what a lovely thought eh? I do hope that you're not a 'breakfast time' reader or you really won't thank me for this will you?
An average pit holds about a 1.000litres of .... stuff! So this may cost £300 BUT they tell me they will flush-out all the drains too so that should surprise a few rats hopefully.
Now I have to go back to my lovely neighbours and discuss.
As I said on the previous blog I feel this may be the beginning of a long drawn out, expensive saga or who knows the neighbour may agree to half of the cost, the guy will come on time and deal with all the problems. Maybe.... just maybe.
2,892
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Without any acknowledgements from any dignitaries we came to the realisation that we had rediscovered the long lost Caterham Bourne
I am loathe to start this blog as at the moment the issue that I am about to record has only really just been flagged up as a possible problem. I know that as sure as eggs are eggs by writing about the issue as early as this the whole thing will build up to a massive problem and I'll be spitting blood as I update the situation day by day and week by week.
The issue? The drains again, but this time I smell a rat (that doesn't actually mean that I have smelt a rat from the drains, in all honesty you'd NEVER be able to distinguish the smell of a rat in our drains, I can tell you, No I mean that I sense that something is not quite right down there). Now it sounds like someone talking to their gynaecologist!
So I was raking up the leaves that had settled on the lawn when I got a slight whiff of something none to pleasant. Having done the customary checks, first the left sole then the right one... You can never hide that check from anyone can you? The wobbly check for poo on the sole of the shoe I mean. It is such a specific stance that you have to take isn't it. Using something to support you (I used the rake) you lift first one foot putting it an angle that you never have to do under any other circumstances and if you're lucky enough not to end up doing a silly little re-balancing hop you'll put that foot down and do the same with the other one. At the same time trying to subtlety sniff as near to the shoe as you can, but you can't because we don't really bend that way do we, so you try to ensure that your nose is directionally perfect from its position 2' away.
I'd be able to spot the silhouette of a person that was 'taking the test' from a hundred yards away and whilst you are doing this you know that you have lost the fight to be inconspicuous and that you should have really just stopped the next person in the street and simply asked them have I got any shit on my shoe?
Anyway, that issue eliminated and seeing no 'deposits' anywhere around, my suspicions drew me to the underworld of our drains....
I don't like drains, they are just nasty. I cautiously lifted the man hole cover nearest the house, mmmmmm not too bad. Then I went to the next manhole cover in the middle of the lawn and lifted it. Eeeewwwwwww! Not nice or as Blue Peter would say "here's one that I ........." I think you know where I'm going with that.
The good news, so I thought, was that I had got it early. It had not backed up to the previous manhole nor had it filled the 4' deep hole, but it had started to rise and was already higher than the soil pipes. There was no movement, no flow, no.... Go!
Once again I donned Stephens chemical warfare suit (see the previous drain related blog), squeezed my hands and feet in to their appropriate rubber-ware and muzzled my mouth with a face mask. I could not see where the drain left the manhole and so some work was involved in finding it. At this point I will spare you the detail, you don't need to know and I don't want to remember so instead we shall have a short interlude.........
(fade out to the sound of dreamy music, fading back to the image of Mike in the Caterham Supermarket some 9 years ago (in sepia if you like)...
It was pouring with rain, I mean torrential, if you were in Madagascar in the rainy season you may just possibly get a feel for this storm. Now the funny thing about the town of Caterham is that it is at the bottom of a deepish valley and yet there is no river. Clearly there must have been one once, however with all the building and urbanisation well it has just been devoured by the general sewer system I guess, because wherever it has gone you sure as hell can no longer see it now.
So I'm standing at the checkouts and like everyone else I am looking out of the large windows at the front of the store watching the rain pounding off the pavement. As I stood there I heard a very deep rumbling sound which didn't sound normal. It was like the sound of a heavy goods train but slow and deliberate.
As it seemed to be getting louder and maybe nearer I started to think that the mud bank behind the store was collapsing and yet it became more and more evident that the sound was emminating from below the ground and still it was getting nearer - and faster.
All of a sudden and without any more clues or warnings whhoomphhh! Then right next to me from all four edges of the largest double manhole cover water shot upwards, fountain like, some 6" and started to flood all over the floor. The pressure was such that it was getting through an airtight manhole cover. The covers never failed, thank god, or I could easily have been hit by the shrapnel. But the high pressure lifted them enough to release 100's of gallons in a constant flood that lasted for just 1-2 minutes before the pressure allowed the covers to seal themselves again.
In that short time the main shop floor had been covered by easily 30% (some 6,000sqft) to a depth of about an inch. As we started the clear up we were gob-smacked at the amount of water that had appeared in such a small amount of time.
Without any acknowledgements from any dignitaries we came to the realisation that we had rediscovered the long lost Caterham Bourne of which Wkikipedia has to say, "Further up the catchment the river is culverted. Two seasonal streams, the Coulsdon Bourne and the Caterham Bourne, run in wet winters".
Yep and we took 12 members of staff an hour to mop it back out of the front doors!
As a short term measure I placed a pallet of Granulated Sugar on top of the manhole covers, just in case it tried the same trick again.
Now some 2 months later and I'm standing at the checkouts and once again there is a sudden heavy downpour, then I hear that self same ominous rumble from deep in the belly of Caterham. Next to me is standing a (Graduate) Management trainee, I told her to get a pallet of sugar here NOW because I think that the manhole cover is about to give and the store would flood!
She looked at me in complete disbelief and simply asked, "Why? will the sugar soak it all up?".
And then Whhoomphhh!
"Too late", I muttered.
INTERLUDE Fin
Back to 2011 and after much splish, splash, plopping (particularly plopping) with my drain rods I managed to obtain a flow, of a sort. But it is not completely clear and it soon became apparent that I needed to go to the neighbours garden and try from their manholes.
And that is where the next episode begins........
2,877
The issue? The drains again, but this time I smell a rat (that doesn't actually mean that I have smelt a rat from the drains, in all honesty you'd NEVER be able to distinguish the smell of a rat in our drains, I can tell you, No I mean that I sense that something is not quite right down there). Now it sounds like someone talking to their gynaecologist!
So I was raking up the leaves that had settled on the lawn when I got a slight whiff of something none to pleasant. Having done the customary checks, first the left sole then the right one... You can never hide that check from anyone can you? The wobbly check for poo on the sole of the shoe I mean. It is such a specific stance that you have to take isn't it. Using something to support you (I used the rake) you lift first one foot putting it an angle that you never have to do under any other circumstances and if you're lucky enough not to end up doing a silly little re-balancing hop you'll put that foot down and do the same with the other one. At the same time trying to subtlety sniff as near to the shoe as you can, but you can't because we don't really bend that way do we, so you try to ensure that your nose is directionally perfect from its position 2' away.
I'd be able to spot the silhouette of a person that was 'taking the test' from a hundred yards away and whilst you are doing this you know that you have lost the fight to be inconspicuous and that you should have really just stopped the next person in the street and simply asked them have I got any shit on my shoe?
Anyway, that issue eliminated and seeing no 'deposits' anywhere around, my suspicions drew me to the underworld of our drains....
I don't like drains, they are just nasty. I cautiously lifted the man hole cover nearest the house, mmmmmm not too bad. Then I went to the next manhole cover in the middle of the lawn and lifted it. Eeeewwwwwww! Not nice or as Blue Peter would say "here's one that I ........." I think you know where I'm going with that.
The good news, so I thought, was that I had got it early. It had not backed up to the previous manhole nor had it filled the 4' deep hole, but it had started to rise and was already higher than the soil pipes. There was no movement, no flow, no.... Go!
INTERLUDE
(fade out to the sound of dreamy music, fading back to the image of Mike in the Caterham Supermarket some 9 years ago (in sepia if you like)...
It was pouring with rain, I mean torrential, if you were in Madagascar in the rainy season you may just possibly get a feel for this storm. Now the funny thing about the town of Caterham is that it is at the bottom of a deepish valley and yet there is no river. Clearly there must have been one once, however with all the building and urbanisation well it has just been devoured by the general sewer system I guess, because wherever it has gone you sure as hell can no longer see it now.
So I'm standing at the checkouts and like everyone else I am looking out of the large windows at the front of the store watching the rain pounding off the pavement. As I stood there I heard a very deep rumbling sound which didn't sound normal. It was like the sound of a heavy goods train but slow and deliberate.
As it seemed to be getting louder and maybe nearer I started to think that the mud bank behind the store was collapsing and yet it became more and more evident that the sound was emminating from below the ground and still it was getting nearer - and faster.
All of a sudden and without any more clues or warnings whhoomphhh! Then right next to me from all four edges of the largest double manhole cover water shot upwards, fountain like, some 6" and started to flood all over the floor. The pressure was such that it was getting through an airtight manhole cover. The covers never failed, thank god, or I could easily have been hit by the shrapnel. But the high pressure lifted them enough to release 100's of gallons in a constant flood that lasted for just 1-2 minutes before the pressure allowed the covers to seal themselves again.
In that short time the main shop floor had been covered by easily 30% (some 6,000sqft) to a depth of about an inch. As we started the clear up we were gob-smacked at the amount of water that had appeared in such a small amount of time.
Without any acknowledgements from any dignitaries we came to the realisation that we had rediscovered the long lost Caterham Bourne of which Wkikipedia has to say, "Further up the catchment the river is culverted. Two seasonal streams, the Coulsdon Bourne and the Caterham Bourne, run in wet winters".
Yep and we took 12 members of staff an hour to mop it back out of the front doors!
As a short term measure I placed a pallet of Granulated Sugar on top of the manhole covers, just in case it tried the same trick again.
Now some 2 months later and I'm standing at the checkouts and once again there is a sudden heavy downpour, then I hear that self same ominous rumble from deep in the belly of Caterham. Next to me is standing a (Graduate) Management trainee, I told her to get a pallet of sugar here NOW because I think that the manhole cover is about to give and the store would flood!
She looked at me in complete disbelief and simply asked, "Why? will the sugar soak it all up?".
And then Whhoomphhh!
"Too late", I muttered.
INTERLUDE Fin
Back to 2011 and after much splish, splash, plopping (particularly plopping) with my drain rods I managed to obtain a flow, of a sort. But it is not completely clear and it soon became apparent that I needed to go to the neighbours garden and try from their manholes.
And that is where the next episode begins........
2,877
Friday, 11 November 2011
Only 20 miles from here is my slice of heaven
It won't take a moment as you read this to realise that this blog isn't being written by Mike. Today I've had a day of annual leave and having spent previous day's leave decorating or preparing to get the B&B ready it was a chance to relax and do something enjoyable. So what do you do on a damp and grey November day in Norfolk?
The answer is you go where two and a half million people go every year and visit The Forum in Norwich. Because that is where you'll find the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library and the Millennium Library.
The 2nd Air Division Memorial Library is, to quote their website "a unique "living memorial" to nearly 7000 American airmen of the 2nd Air Division of the United States Army Air Force who were killed while stationed in East Anglia during World War Two." Intended as "an educational and friendship bridge between the two nations", it seemed a fitting place to visit on Armistice Day and to reflect on all of those lost lives.
As well as lots of information about the planes, the airfields and the servicemen who flew and maintained them there is a huge selection of books about various aspects of American life; history, politics, culture and my favourites - travel, cooking and quilting. The memorial library is based within the public library which is within the Forum building, which also hosts the Tourist Information office (another place I like to visit), BBC Norfolk, an exhibition centre and several restaurants.
As a connoisseur of libraries and someone who has spent many hours, well probably if you added them up, months or even years in libraries I have to say that Norwich Millennium library is without doubt the finest public library of it's kind. Open until 8pm or even 9pm it's a massive building on three floors and on the top floor, the icing on the cake, is a separate business library; it will take me years to read all of those management books - in fact I could be retired before I've exhausted the supply!
Fortunately Norfolk County Council seem to understand that libraries are a really important part of the community and although they've recently reviewed library hours across the county, according to the website, www.voicesforthelibrary.org.uk who are campaigning to stop library closures, there aren't any closures planned or threatened. Not even King's Lynn library. As one of Norfolk's largest towns you wouldn't expect a library there to be under threat but last year we were in the audience for a recording of Have I Got News For You and one of the questions that was asked was about the King's Lynn library and the fact they have had to employ bouncers to control the unruly residents. Having just agreed to rent a house near King's Lynn whilst we moved, I had a hard job persuading Mike and Claire that it was a safe place to live, even temporarily.
So an enjoyable hour was spent there, next time I'll go on my own as Mike and Claire don't have the same desire to spend many hours there (!), as there's rows and row's of books I've not even looked at yet.
The answer is you go where two and a half million people go every year and visit The Forum in Norwich. Because that is where you'll find the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library and the Millennium Library.
The 2nd Air Division Memorial Library is, to quote their website "a unique "living memorial" to nearly 7000 American airmen of the 2nd Air Division of the United States Army Air Force who were killed while stationed in East Anglia during World War Two." Intended as "an educational and friendship bridge between the two nations", it seemed a fitting place to visit on Armistice Day and to reflect on all of those lost lives.
As well as lots of information about the planes, the airfields and the servicemen who flew and maintained them there is a huge selection of books about various aspects of American life; history, politics, culture and my favourites - travel, cooking and quilting. The memorial library is based within the public library which is within the Forum building, which also hosts the Tourist Information office (another place I like to visit), BBC Norfolk, an exhibition centre and several restaurants.
As a connoisseur of libraries and someone who has spent many hours, well probably if you added them up, months or even years in libraries I have to say that Norwich Millennium library is without doubt the finest public library of it's kind. Open until 8pm or even 9pm it's a massive building on three floors and on the top floor, the icing on the cake, is a separate business library; it will take me years to read all of those management books - in fact I could be retired before I've exhausted the supply!
Fortunately Norfolk County Council seem to understand that libraries are a really important part of the community and although they've recently reviewed library hours across the county, according to the website, www.voicesforthelibrary.org.uk who are campaigning to stop library closures, there aren't any closures planned or threatened. Not even King's Lynn library. As one of Norfolk's largest towns you wouldn't expect a library there to be under threat but last year we were in the audience for a recording of Have I Got News For You and one of the questions that was asked was about the King's Lynn library and the fact they have had to employ bouncers to control the unruly residents. Having just agreed to rent a house near King's Lynn whilst we moved, I had a hard job persuading Mike and Claire that it was a safe place to live, even temporarily.
So an enjoyable hour was spent there, next time I'll go on my own as Mike and Claire don't have the same desire to spend many hours there (!), as there's rows and row's of books I've not even looked at yet.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
I cannot describe how much I enjoyed telling the children how ugly they were and this was with their parent standing right in front of me....... The parents even thanked me...
Claire has found a great idea for an autumnal flower display which I intend to use every year. You need to visit her Craft Blog to see it and how she created it. The thing gives a real autumn feel to the place, which of course is where we are at already.
We have had a slow trickle of guests, as you'd expect going into winter but we are fortunate to be just 6 miles down the road from one of the busiest winter Christmas theatrical shows in the country. It is called the Thursford Christmas Spectacular and has an audience during its 7 week run of over 130,000. So we are still receiving bookings for November and December which is great as B&B's tend to shut down over winter. We have also advertised on an internet Bird Watchers site but have had no guests from there as yet. Still the peak time for the bird watchers is December through to March as so many birds rest on our coastal marshes during migration. So there is still hope there.
Having checked out a lot of red tape in the early months of our business it became apparent that we would probably have to apply for planning permission to use our Annex as a holiday cottage. I had started to prepare the application and was starting to revisit the paperwork when I came across the fee of the application, some £335 and that is just the application cost. If your application is turned down then you would have to re-submit and incur another £335 fee for the privilege! So this sort of gave me the prompt to see if we could weedle any way out of having to make the application. I gave the planning office a call and gave a full explanation of our plans and the current set up of the building. She was non-committal and I feared the worst but she said she would look into our case and come back to us the next day.
When we spoke next she had a few supplementary questions and was still holding her cards close to her chest. Having established the exact part of the building concerned she explained to me that the previous owner had made a request to turn the annex into a residence from being a 'bakehouse' and that this was passed in 1974 specifically stating that the permission had no restrictions and was unconditional. She gave me the official application number and the good news which is that as a result we do not have to apply for any permission to let this building out as a holiday cottage. We warm more and more to our houses' previous owner
Back to Halloween......
I love it. Actually more accurately I love Pumpkin soup, totally my favourite soup of all time. Mmmmmmmmm..
So that gives me a perfect excuse to carve out pumpkins and as I had relatives coming to stay just prior to Halloween then I had an excuse to have a Pumpkin carving competition. I felt sure that my Sister-in-Law, Jane would be up for the challenge and sure enough I was right. It turned out that she had never carved a pumpkin, EVER! Now whilst this should be truly shocking I soon started to realise that many other relatives and friend have not taken a little time out to have done this in the past.
IT'S A SIN. I sometimes feel that I am the only person around that knows his inner child and nurtures it throughout adult life. IF YOU HAVE NEVER CARVED A PUMPKIN OR ASSISTED YOUR CHILDREN, NEPHEWS OR ANYONE THEN YOU MUST GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO DO SO.
NO ONE SEEMS TO JUST WANT TO HAVE A LITTLE CHILDISH FUN IN THEIR LIVES ANY MORE.
Too many people are too busy being serious. Serious about shopping (until they are dropping), serious about their exercise (2 hours indoors in the gym walking on a treadmill whilst the sun is shining outside in the park), too serious about watching the Soaps (until they talk to each other more about the fictitious characters lives than their actual own REAL lives), Too serious about their jobs (where they are so concerned about self image they sacrifice the chance and ergo the humanity of making fools of themselves) and, of course, Football. A game where everyone can take a step from Sunderland's game and go out of their way to avoid taking it seriously!
My point is we are just all too 'grown up' and we need to find time to 'grow down' a little, lose face on occasions, feel the sense of humility without fear of the stench of failure. Life is too short to to be Mr (or Mrs) Dull.....
For goodness sake do something frivolous and the perfect thing to help you is to carve a pumpkin.
So here is a photo of 4 adults making time to waste time, making silly creations so they could sit on the wall and go mouldy (that's the pumpkins NOT the 4 adults).
Although..... It does appear that my son Stephen is carrying out some sort of forensic experiment on the force of a knife plunged into a head from above, but that could just be my wild and rather strange imagination.
We placed the finished articles on our front wall and we then started having the trick or treaters arrive. This was particularly rewarding for two reasons. Firstly all of their parents were saying how brilliant the pumpkins looked. Well I assume they thought that children made them, because for kids they were very good but for adults, well we probably could have done better.
Secondly I cannot describe how much I enjoyed telling the children how ugly they were and this was with their parent standing right in front of me. The kids would appear at the door with their gruesome make up on, some of them were no higher than my waist. I would say, "Right then, who's the ugliest little boy or girl here then", they would all snigger and shuffle their feet a little. I then picked on which ever child took my fancy and say to him or her, "My goodness you're ugly, yep you're definitely the ugliest child here!" The said child then gathered a smile of glee that went from ear to ear, proud to be declared, by this complete stranger, the ugliest child in the group. One 12 year old actually thanked me with an enthusiastic "Awww Fanks...."
The parents even thanked me as they moved on to the next house.
We don't have to be bad people to enjoy our lives but there is nothing wrong with being just a little bit naughty.
Here are some photos of our attempt at carving pumpkins for you perusal...
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We have had a slow trickle of guests, as you'd expect going into winter but we are fortunate to be just 6 miles down the road from one of the busiest winter Christmas theatrical shows in the country. It is called the Thursford Christmas Spectacular and has an audience during its 7 week run of over 130,000. So we are still receiving bookings for November and December which is great as B&B's tend to shut down over winter. We have also advertised on an internet Bird Watchers site but have had no guests from there as yet. Still the peak time for the bird watchers is December through to March as so many birds rest on our coastal marshes during migration. So there is still hope there.
Having checked out a lot of red tape in the early months of our business it became apparent that we would probably have to apply for planning permission to use our Annex as a holiday cottage. I had started to prepare the application and was starting to revisit the paperwork when I came across the fee of the application, some £335 and that is just the application cost. If your application is turned down then you would have to re-submit and incur another £335 fee for the privilege! So this sort of gave me the prompt to see if we could weedle any way out of having to make the application. I gave the planning office a call and gave a full explanation of our plans and the current set up of the building. She was non-committal and I feared the worst but she said she would look into our case and come back to us the next day.
When we spoke next she had a few supplementary questions and was still holding her cards close to her chest. Having established the exact part of the building concerned she explained to me that the previous owner had made a request to turn the annex into a residence from being a 'bakehouse' and that this was passed in 1974 specifically stating that the permission had no restrictions and was unconditional. She gave me the official application number and the good news which is that as a result we do not have to apply for any permission to let this building out as a holiday cottage. We warm more and more to our houses' previous owner
Back to Halloween......
I love it. Actually more accurately I love Pumpkin soup, totally my favourite soup of all time. Mmmmmmmmm..
So that gives me a perfect excuse to carve out pumpkins and as I had relatives coming to stay just prior to Halloween then I had an excuse to have a Pumpkin carving competition. I felt sure that my Sister-in-Law, Jane would be up for the challenge and sure enough I was right. It turned out that she had never carved a pumpkin, EVER! Now whilst this should be truly shocking I soon started to realise that many other relatives and friend have not taken a little time out to have done this in the past.
IT'S A SIN. I sometimes feel that I am the only person around that knows his inner child and nurtures it throughout adult life. IF YOU HAVE NEVER CARVED A PUMPKIN OR ASSISTED YOUR CHILDREN, NEPHEWS OR ANYONE THEN YOU MUST GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO DO SO.
NO ONE SEEMS TO JUST WANT TO HAVE A LITTLE CHILDISH FUN IN THEIR LIVES ANY MORE.
Too many people are too busy being serious. Serious about shopping (until they are dropping), serious about their exercise (2 hours indoors in the gym walking on a treadmill whilst the sun is shining outside in the park), too serious about watching the Soaps (until they talk to each other more about the fictitious characters lives than their actual own REAL lives), Too serious about their jobs (where they are so concerned about self image they sacrifice the chance and ergo the humanity of making fools of themselves) and, of course, Football. A game where everyone can take a step from Sunderland's game and go out of their way to avoid taking it seriously!
My point is we are just all too 'grown up' and we need to find time to 'grow down' a little, lose face on occasions, feel the sense of humility without fear of the stench of failure. Life is too short to to be Mr (or Mrs) Dull.....
For goodness sake do something frivolous and the perfect thing to help you is to carve a pumpkin.
Although..... It does appear that my son Stephen is carrying out some sort of forensic experiment on the force of a knife plunged into a head from above, but that could just be my wild and rather strange imagination.
We placed the finished articles on our front wall and we then started having the trick or treaters arrive. This was particularly rewarding for two reasons. Firstly all of their parents were saying how brilliant the pumpkins looked. Well I assume they thought that children made them, because for kids they were very good but for adults, well we probably could have done better.
Secondly I cannot describe how much I enjoyed telling the children how ugly they were and this was with their parent standing right in front of me. The kids would appear at the door with their gruesome make up on, some of them were no higher than my waist. I would say, "Right then, who's the ugliest little boy or girl here then", they would all snigger and shuffle their feet a little. I then picked on which ever child took my fancy and say to him or her, "My goodness you're ugly, yep you're definitely the ugliest child here!" The said child then gathered a smile of glee that went from ear to ear, proud to be declared, by this complete stranger, the ugliest child in the group. One 12 year old actually thanked me with an enthusiastic "Awww Fanks...."
The parents even thanked me as they moved on to the next house.
We don't have to be bad people to enjoy our lives but there is nothing wrong with being just a little bit naughty.
Here are some photos of our attempt at carving pumpkins for you perusal...
 |
| Jane's to the left and Mine to the right |
 |
| Jane's, Stephen's, Mine, Claire's |
 |
| Self Portrait |
 |
| Jane's masterpiece |
 |
| Claire's |
 |
| The Old Bakery |
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