The Wireless

My people were quite late to adopt Television; not that they couldn't afford one, they simply didn't see the need.

Instead we had a large wooden boxed wireless that sat in a corner of the dining room by the side of the fire.

It might have been made by Ferguson, or even Echo, and was quite a classy machine. I remember two particular qualities that it contained. Firstly the 'Magic Eye', a fine tuning light in the middle at the bottom of where the channels were displayed. Secondly was 'Hilversum', a name that seemed to appear on all radios that claimed they could reach far and wide. I never knew what Hilversum was or even where it was; it simply sounded so exotic.

My mother (of course) listened to The Archers and Mrs Dale's Diary, and on Sundays we would all listen to Archie Andrews, Two way family favourites, and Wilfred and Mabel Pickles handing out money on a quiz show. We also listened to radio plays; often creepy stories or mysteries for which the lights would be dimmed. I loved it.

I listen to the radio at nights through an earpiece wedged into my left ear, but we never listen during daytime. I think a radio in the sitting room would be a good idea, we're missing out on so much. I haven't listened to The Archers since the days of Walter Gabriel.

Maybe I could even tune in to Hilversum to see what they're up to.

 

THIS GUY MADE MY DAY

Well, someone had to explain it to them.

Will they listen? Of course not; truth hurts, especially to the woke-brigade!

The Last Supper.

 

These days you have to book well in advance to see Leonardo da Vinci's 'Last Supper' which is situated in the refectory at the convent of St Maria delle Grazie in Milan. Maybe this was always the case, but as I've not been there myself, I wasn't aware.

Here is Kimbo admiring the painting yesterday. He took his younger son, Ollie, to see it as a birthday present.

My daughter and two grandsons are now with us, and we've moved over to Kimbo's house. He'll soon return to a house full of old-fogies who will no doubt disrupt his life. My daughter & Co go to Paris for a while before Christmas, the boys want to see the sights. We might even move back home for a few days; we'll see.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. Stay warm; it's freezing here, and we're expecting a week of rain!

Litter

Continuing the theme of pedagogy from yesterday, rather than teaching children how to go about changing their gender, maybe our schools should take some time to mention (in passing) that one should NOT DROP LITTER.

Litter is a blight on society, along with most graffiti. Neither would have been tolerated a couple of generations ago. When I was young (and still today) the idea of dropping a sweet wrapper, or an empty pop-bottle, on the ground was simply unheard of. We were taught that it was unacceptable behaviour. 

I hate seeing other people's litter everywhere; especially in our nearby churchyard. There used to be litter bins there, but some bright spark decided to remove them, so I suppose the blame can partly be placed on whoever made that decision.

These days I keep a large bag in my pocket and dispose of the detritus myself. I don't enjoy doing it, but find it almost impossible not to.

I just wish I didn't have to, but the litter-bugs leave me no alternative.

 

Learning to cook.

Most Cardiologists would deny that 'the way to a man's heart is though his stomach'.

However (disregarding know-all surgeons), when I first met the future Lady Magnon she invited me for supper, and produced a staggeringly delicious Estofat de Boeuf (Catalan beef stew) served with ribbon noodles, and a Tarte Tatin for dessert. I was putty in her hands.

With two of my grandsons recently taking cooking lessons in Tokyo (above), I was thinking that the art of cooking is probably fading fast, other than for those who wish to work as chefs; or maybe for those who are serious gourmets.

It always used to be said that if you had one or two really spectacular recipes under your belt that it would serve you very well, and I'm sure that still applies today.

George and Finn are joining us for Christmas, along with their mother, Tenpin (my daughter). I'm hoping that they'll wish to impress their Grumpy with some stunning recently-learned Japanese dishes.

I like to see young people interested in what they eat and drink; it makes their lives so much more fulfilling. Maybe 'Gastronomy' should be added to schools curriculums; and replace 'Domestic Science'; which made it all sound so horribly clinical.

The Winter Ice Rink.

We seem to be in Winter already. Every Winter (in recent times) Brighton opens an Ice Rink at The Royal Pavilion. 

This year The Pavilion seems to be lit-up in pink. Those 'glass houses' surrounding the rink are home to bars, cafés, and bistros. A great place to enjoy an evening out whilst watching the skaters.

I have only attempted skating once in my life, and it didn't end well. I would certainly be in a café rather than on the ice.

I don't know who took this photo, but it's a belter! I believe it was taken from a 'plane as it came in to land at Gatwick. Anyway, here is an aerial photo of 'Brighton by Night'.

 

PAVAROTTI Nessun Dorma

I quite often post music videos on this page, but I thought it was about time I posted possibly the greatest combination of singer, orchestra, and composer of all time; that of Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma from Puccini's Turandot, accompanied by The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of Kurt Herbert Adler.

This is possibly the world's favourite operatic aria, and it's certainly worthy of its popularity.

Can anything ever get better than this?