Evening Croquet.

                              

It was Bastille Day. Cro, two sons, and one grandson, fight it out on the Croquet Lawn.

The long shadows heralded the end of the day. It was cool, we'd just eaten a delicious leg of Lamb, and consumed a certain amount of wine; it was perfect for a game or two of Pall Mall.

The girls watched from the pavilion and took photos, as we complained about cheating, the run of the ball, or who had played out of turn. Nothing was too insignificant for our accusations.

It's the perfect game for a summer evening.

Then yesterday we had dull skies and a few drops of rain. As someone once said "What a difference a day makes". It was, of course, St Swithin's Day, which also meant it was Wills's birthday.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Here are the school leaving members of the 'King's Barbers' (from my alma mater) singing a classic song for our difficult times, 'Don't worry, be happy'. Traditionally the 'Barbers' are given a pitch-pipe as a leaving present; which are in the small boxes that they open.

Don't expect perfection, they're certainly not pro's; just a bunch of boys who sing for the love of singing.



At 3.38 mins you will see two boys walking down a narrow road. On the right is the medieval building where I spent four years of my youth. Ah, memories!

Another hot day.

Looking out through the sitting room door, it is hot, dry, and airless. The grass is drying, and there is that unmistakable warm scent of Summer in the air.

Indoors it is cool, dark, and comfortable. The thick stone walls and quarry tiled floors give us some respite from the relentless heat of mid-July.  

The pool is hardly ever without someone splashing about, Billy sleeps on the ancient cooling flagstones in front of the big fireplace, where no doubt generations of dogs before him have found relief, and after all our tasks are finished, we sit reading books until it's time for an aperitif at about 5.30 pm.

We feel guilty of our laziness, even though I mowed most of the grass earlier in the day.

It's only 30 C in the shade, but it feels like much more. I have a feeling that Billy really doesn't like the heat of Summer.

Mild, long, Peppers.

These Peppers are the French equivalent of the Spanish Padron Peppers. Here they are known as Piment long doux des Landes. The Landes region of France being that lower part of the West coast, before arriving in Spain. 

As the names suggests, they are mild Peppers, and are gently fried in Olive Oil to be eaten as a snack with drinks etc.

They are one of my favourite Summer crops, and I was quite surprised to see that there were already several awaiting my attention.

A few minutes in the pan until soft and blistered, a very slight sprinkle of fleur de sel, and you have a real treat. They are surprisingly delicious.

Dead Walnut Tree.

Yesterday was a good day. It was hot, sunny, and we got things done!

I'd been worried for some while. Bits had been dropping off it for months, and recently two very large branches came down with a real thump, after some strong wind.

A couple of pro 'lumberjacks' were working nearby so we asked if they could come and look at a job. They quoted a price and came the following day (yesterday). What an amazing couple of guys!

Considering that the tree was rotten, the smaller of the two shinned up to the top, and started cutting bit by bit with his tiny lightweight chainsaw. He seemed to have no fear.

You can't see him too well in the top picture, so here he is in close-up, holding on with one hand, whilst sawing with the other. Everything fell exactly where they wanted, nothing broken, no wires down.

This is the finished pile. It doesn't look much, but it'll probably keep us going through much of this coming winter.

It's such a relief to have the tree down.... I shall sleep again at night.

You'll enjoy this. My School Report, aged 4½.

I first posted this in July 2010, but consider myself academically confident enough to do so again.

It's probably true to say that Cro did not have a 'brilliant' start to his academic career. Day dreaming, Drawing, and Fishing for tiddlers in Farmer Bell's pond; all took priority over Latin, the dates of Historic Battles, or the confused workings of Mathematical Theorems.

Above is my very first proper school report from this small private school in East Grinstead, Sussex; the headmaster of which was the brother of Patrick Gordon-Walker, a well known politician of the time (The headmaster of my next school happened to be the grandson of Gladstone)... I WAS 4½ YEARS OLD at the time of this report!!!

English: Quite good.

Writing: Fair, and will improve (Idiot! Of course one's handwriting improves after the age of 4).

Stories: Pays full attention.

Maths: Must try harder.

Nature study: Shows no interest.

Games: Noisy and rough (Yessss!).

Art: Quite neat and tidy (Nonsense!).

Handwork (?): Needs more care.

Singing: Good (I've always loved singing).

Conduct: Very disobedient (Some things never change).

General: A very uncooperative pupil.

Headmaster's Report: He must try to be more obedient and sensible. He has been very difficult to control this term, and has made little effort.

So, there we are; a  4½ year old boy who obviously enjoyed singing and listening to 'stories'. I quite expect that what I really wanted was to be LEFT ALONE, have the occasional wound patched-up by an attractive busty white-clad nurse, and be given a lump of raw meat to chew from time to time (Yes, I really did eat lumps of raw meat).

I'm sorry I don't have the school photograph with me in France that accompanies this report; it's hilarious. It shows a group of maybe 150 perfect, clean, smiling, happy, well dressed, angelic little children, with just one horrendous scruff-bag sitting in the middle of the front row. Guess who that was? Happy times eh!

OPEN LETTER. To the now long-dead teachers of Highfield School (especially SS). I eventually did pretty well in my 'Common Entrance' exam which enabled me to become a Latin Scholar at a highly academic upper school, got enough qualifications to go to university  and ended up with a 1st Class Hons degree in my chosen subject. So I can't have been ALL BAD. You simply overlooked the fact that I had 'Artistic Temperament'.

So, SS (Miss Sargent) and Mr Gordon-Walker, you can stuff your silly report! I just regret that I was too young to suggest that you did so at the time.

'Objects of Desire'.

I like to be surrounded by nice things, they make one's life more pleasant.

I'm not talking about expensive things; but objects that are either beautiful in their own right, simply of good design, or what one might call 'attractive curiosities'.

On my desk, in front of me, there is a large mug which contains pens, knives, a magnifying glass, and a few other essentials. For the past 30 years or more it has also contained this antique small 4 inch pocket level. It has become my version of 'worry beads' that I often play with, without really being aware of the fact. The only time it is actually used for its intended purpose is if I've noticed paintings in a house that are not hanging level, the next time I visit I take the level with me, and secretly put them right.

Another favourite object is this antique pewter mug. I bought it at a tiny antique shop in Sussex, when I was teaching at a nearby school. I payed quite a lot for it, but was so enticed by the beauty of its form that I would have been prepared to pay even more than I did. It usually contains coloured pencils.

Obviously I can't illustrate all my favourite objects, but here is another one. It's an old Masonic badge from my home UK county of Sussex. It is beautifully embroidered, and contains a 'Martlet' (Swift) in the centre. It sits on the large fireplace lintel in the sitting room, and represents a tiny bit of home.

And finally, a small pebble from Brighton beach painted by my daughter Tenpin. I love it. We call her Miss Prim.

We all possess objects that we would hate to lose. They may not be valuable, but they are precious. These were just four of mine.