Clearing out the old

The new art studio awaits

 We cleared out the garage today, under Ann's direction. This was something I had deemed impossible, for rubbish was heaped on rubbish in mad profusion as we had thrown everything in "that might come in handy" one day, or that was "just awaiting a trip to the tip." But under Ann's perceptive eye, the day rolled by with things being moved out, or to another junk area, or commandeered for use in the new room.

Finally, we have ended up with our own art studio, with back-to-back desks and chairs, and all the art things moved in so we don't have to keep clearing them away when we want to eat a meal. The only thing missing now is the art - it still has to be Christened with our first paintings.

Ann is ready to paint

Now the tumble drier has broken. All the lights are flashing and the clothes are still dripping wet. It's a Hotpoint, and barely a year old. I've cleaned the filters and tried turning it off and on and but it remains terminally ill. Looking up possible causes on line, the pundits suggest this is indeed terminal - it sounds as though the main software board may be at fault, so we need a new machine. In these days of lockdown, we can't go to a shop to choose one, so we're having to order one blind online. They can't deliver it till next week, so we will have to spare the washing. The machine was full of washing when it broke, so at the moment we have towels draped round the banisters, and underwear hanging off every radiator, and I've had to turn the heating up to get them dry. I can only say to anyone reading this and thinking of buying a tumble drier, don't buy Hotpoint!

Unexpected visitors

 It is amazing that we have now received yet another gift. Confined to the house by lockdown, Edwin and Andre had done some shopping for us in Cambridge and brought it round yesterday. In addition to the shopping, they had also treated us to a superb boxed art set, with many different mediums such as acrylic, watercolour, Indian ink and charcoal. It also contained an easel, so we have no excuse now not to at least attempt some artistic creations.

We sat outside in a cold wind, but Edwin insisted on seeing his guinea pig to see how he'd grown. Andre, more used to warm S. American climates, was shivering so brought out coats for them both and gloves for himself. He told us how they were more fortunate than friends of his who'd landed a job in Cambridge just before the lockdown. They rented a small unfurnished flat and were just moving in when the lockdown struck, leaving all their luggage and furniture locked in a warehouse on the continent, unable to be delivered or collected. They have ended up sleeping on a mattress on the floor, unable to buy anything until the lockdown ceases. The boys were not allowed in the house, so we brought the cage outside. Edwin was delighted to greet his friend, not having seen him for over two months.

Andre and Edwin visit their guinea pig

Today we had planned to try to clear the garage to set up an art studio, because at the moment we do our painting on the dining room table and have to clear it each evening. But like mice in the cosmic schema, our plans were thwarted, as so often seems to happen now. For some days, we have suffered a weird electrical fault whereby the main trip switch keeps triggering. Taking all the fuses out and replacing them one by one did not narrow down the fault, because each time it seemed to be a different fuse that triggered it. It would eventually reset, but trip again in a few hours and had become a great nuisance, so we had to call a professional electrician in.

Jamie came promptly at 8:00 a.m. this morning. He worked steadily without a break until midday, working round the house to disconnect various wires and appliances, but was no more able to pin down the fault than I was, so had to call in an even more experienced friend of his. The two of them spent a further couple of hours going round everything, finally deciding it was some obscure fault in the bubble system for the bath. They have disconnected that circuit, but will have to order a new circuit breaker, and will come back one day to finish the job. In the meantime, they left hoping it would not go off again, but asking us to phone if necessary, so I'm not sure how confident they are in what they've done.

Mystery weed in Hundon

In the garden, Sam has bought us a couple of shrub trees and he also came round this morning to plant them. In the corner, we discovered a new, strange weed, which neither of us could identify. I worried it might be the Giant Japanese Hogweed we've heard of recently, but it looks a bit different. I can't find it online, but if anyone reading this knows, please send me a message via the comments box or email me.

Unexpected treats

Wonderful Yorkshire cheeses

Suddenly we are getting some wonderful presents. Yesterday, the fruit from Lucy; today, a selection of Wensleydale Creamery cheeses, butter and crackers from Yorkshire, sent by Matthew and Rosie! We love cheese, and will enjoy these. I especially like a slice of Wensleydale eaten with rich Christmas cake in the Yorkshire tradition, with a glass of mature port. Delicious.

Also out of the blue came a copy of a letter from brother Richard. Ann had asked him if he had any information about my father in the war. This was a letter he wrote to mum when he was courting, in 1941, and everything in it was new to me. Seven pages long, it is extraordinarily well written, full of good humour while showing great strength of character. He was a sapper in the Royal Engineers, which I had not known, billeted at that time in Grimsby. He was looking forward to meeting mum again in Southsea when she was to be bridesmaid to someone I knew as Aunt Jenny (In those days, all my mother's friends were 'Aunt' or 'Uncle').  He even mentions indirectly the recent budget, saying:

"This budget sure is a robbery. I feel sorry for your dad whose beer and tobacco is his only enjoyment. It looks to me that they have taxed the working people far greater in percentage than the rich, & that we don't only have to fight this war for them, but pay for it for them. take us lads up here for instance, most of us are broke & have to keep in nearly every evening... it is going to take all my time saving up for fares etc, can't afford to go round to the local pub so much as I used to."

He also adds that they must write longer letters to make the most from the newly increased postal charge of 2½d [old pence - equivalent to 1p in new money]. I was intrigued so looked up details of this wartime budget. It had been presented by the Chancellor, Sir John Simon, in April of that year, and sure enough makes reference to increasing the duty on cigarettes and alcohol. Definitely "plus ca change...", for the papers today also refer to increasing the duty on everything to pay for the war on Corona virus.

A slow return to normality?

A welcome gift

As the government ease restrictions, allowing a short drive for a walk, I chose to visit an old haunt in Clare. I kept seeing people I used to know in our former life reminding me that, one day, things will return to normality. Parking behind the Swan to go up through the fields beyond the nuttery I met the manager, Nick, mounted on a mower. He has furloughed his staff, but is fortunate that the pub owner has agreed to waive rent for the duration, so hopes his cash reserves will last out the lockdown.

Talking in the street to a couple of old customers was his neighbour, the owner of Hudgies. The house was built for linen weaving in the late 17th C. before becoming an ironmongers and hardware shop. David, the owner, has run it for eighteen years, but has been trying to sell it for the last couple of years to retire. In the present climate, he may be there for a while longer.

Driving home, I saw a familiar figure, name unknown, walking his dogs. He is a large man but walks two tiny Norfolk terriers and always wears a black rodeo hat. I only see him walking between Clare and Chilton Street, but I used to see him so often, whatever time I went, walking in one direction or the other I used to think he must do it all day. The path along that stretch is very narrow, with generally a lot of traffic passing, so I always wonder why he chooses such a location with numerous walks and woods round Clare.

Then, on the doorstep this afternoon, had been left a box with a wonderful gift inside. It was filled with a delicious selection of fruit, a gift from Lucy. It is fantastic to be so remembered, and hugely appreciated. She had arranged a big family get-together in August, but this has now been cancelled. We are separated by a large distance, so are unlikely to meet for some time, so this is a good reminder of happier times to come.

Beware strange men

Ann answered a knock at the door this morning to a man offering to trim our large maple tree. It does cause a lot of work from the vast quantity of leaves and seeds that fall, plus constant birds' mess on the parked cars. We've had it trimmed a couple of times when branches were overgrowing the road or getting too close to the house, but it's not too bad at the moment. I'm not supposed to even answer the door at the moment, but the man was very persistent so to try and get rid of him, Ann told him we didn't need it cutting at present, but we were thinking of having it cut down at the end of the year. He immediately countered by saying he'd give a quote to cut it down, so to try and put him off Ann said she'd have to speak to me. A little later, he came back so I answered the door.

"I'm working in the neighbourhood," he said, "so I can do it for a good price. It would normally be £450, but I can cut it down to the ground today for £350." I said I'd have to think about it, and would call him back if I decided to have it done. "I'll tell you what," he then said, "I'm just finishing your neighbour's tree, so I can do it for a bargain price of £320, and take away the bits."

I still said no, and asked him which neighbour, "Is it Number 1 opposite?"

"Yes," he said, "I'm working at Number 1." I told Ann, and went upstairs to look while she went outside to see if she could see where he was working. There was no sign of him, then Ann came in and said, "I was looking at the house opposite, and suddenly saw a big Number 2. We are Number 1!"

This lockdown is certainly addling our brains. "Well, it was a good trick question to set him," I said defensively. "He fell straight into it - he didn't realise it couldn't have been Number 1 either." Later, we found a message on the Hundon Facebook page warning that he was touring the village looking for work, but also looking for somewhere to dump his rubbish. I think if he had cut down our tree, he would have left the bits on our drive, telling us he'd be back later to clear them up!

My hair was beginning to look more scraggy than Boris's, for it hadn't been cut for several weeks. Today, Ann volunteered to trim it. In her youth, Ann had a Saturday job in a salon, so she has some experience, and I'm pleased to say she did a very good job. Meanwhile, we continue to enjoy the box of wines Edwin and Andre sent us (see Enjoying lockdown), and pondering Boris's ambiguous message about whether we can go out or not, to sit on a beach of picnic (but not in any beauty spots), and what shops may open when. He has managed to make the whole process sound as confusing as it ever was, with ministers contradicting each other and no clear instruction whatsoever. I think the lockdown has addled his brain too.

Art vs. science

We held another quiz last night, run by Edwin and Andre. HouseParty has a limit of 8 channels, so this time we used Google Hangouts, which allows more participants, and worked very well. Edwin has a mug with "Don't make me put on my school-teacher's look", and took on has school-masterly voice to present, with Power-Point illustrations. This time, Ann and I won. Some people were saying, "Clever dad", and other complementary comments, but these days I am brain dead and it was Ann who gave the majority of the correct answers.

Walking the dogs yesterday, it was so hot it was hard to remember it is still spring. The track was lined with huge arrays of hedgerow flowers, the chestnuts are in glorious display, and the path had a thick carpet of catkin blossoms underfoot. Through my window this morning was a solitary vapour trail, clearly visible on Flight-Radar in its isolation as an ancient Douglas MD-11 cargo plane from Liège to Whidbey Island in USA. Nothing else was flying north of London. Whidbey Island is so small it was hard to find on a map, and there seems to be nothing much there. The sky has been so clear, warm and dry recently, more like the summers we imagine from our childhood. I wondered if there is a link; could huge numbers of vapour trails world-wide affect the weather, bringing cloud and rain? Air traffic has fallen by over 95%, an unbelievable change, so perhaps it is having an effect beyond just blue skies and peaceful days.

Moon over Glastonbury Tor by Ann

Yesterday, we continued our art work. At least, Ann did - producing a beautiful picture of a full moon over Glastonbury Tor. I am realising how little I know about art. Artists go to art school for a reason - to actually learn about mixing colours, brush technique, and a thousand other topics of which I am totally ignorant. I have tried watching some lessons on YouTube, but every artist has a different way of doing things, often completely opposite to each other.

The beauty of science is when the equations work out. One can repeat the experiments, or re-do the maths, and generally the results are in agreement. Where they are not, either we have discovered a new understanding of nature or - more likely - we've made a mistake. To my mind, the biggest mystery in science now is why our two greatest theories - quantum mechanics and general relativity - are irreconcilable, but even there we live in hope and expectation that one day another Einstein will provide an answer. Art has no right or wrong way - it is supposed to be an expression of feeling, or of the inner soul for the more spiritual. My art is just a blobby mess, and doesn't express anything except a total lack of ability. There may be no one right way to do things in art, but there sure are a lot of wrong ways.

V.E. Day in Hundon

V.E.-day in Hundon

Today is V.E. day, with a few houses in Hundon celebrating. On our road, four neighbours sat outside with drinks, while down the road a couple of families gathered on the grassy strip in front of their houses to have picnics and listen to 40's music. At 7pm, someone found an air-raid siren to stir the air with its deep wailing, followed by the all clear signal. We raised a flag in our garden, salvaged from our boating days, while across the road another neighbour hung Union Jack bunting and a large flag outside, but otherwise celebrations in the village were sparse.

Ann's father was a Chindit still serving in the Far East on V.E. day, for that war went on for another four months. Part of any war celebrations are the songs of Vera Lynn, and Ann's father heard her sing when she flew out to the Far East to entertain the troops there in the Burma campaign, for she realised that everyone else had forgotten them. Indeed, they were called "the forgotten army".

Matthew's Rose Moon

Back in this century, the government continue to send mixed messaging, first releasing strong hints that the lockdown would be relaxed this weekend, but now contradicting themselves, saying there will be minimal easing yet. We are all confused, and it is no wonder we treat them with disdain. Leadership they are not showing; merely vacillation and uncertainty.

Last night was a full moon, the last supermoon of the year, called a Flower Moon. It was clearly visible, but the best image was sent to us by Matthew.