OK, I’m not going to be famous, a star of the screen, but we’ll get to the title shortly.
I’ve not mentioned Clipper for a while. The latest iteration finished in Portsmouth on 27 July but I didn’t go. JD went and had a great time catching up with old ship mates. We had planned to go and see the boats at their penultimate stop in Oban the week before, but due to circumstances beyond my control (namely, JD) ‘we’ got the dates wrong by a month. As soon as we realised we looked at our diaries but had already booked something for the correct weekend. Unicef finished fourth overall (one better than ‘our’ trip) and CV31, as Ha Long Bay, finished in top position!
By the next voyage I don’t think we’ll know anyone involved so it might become part of the past. Instead, we could stay on dry land (if such a thing exists in the UK for more than a day) and try the Shipwrights’ Way. It’s a long-distance walk from Alice Holt Forest in Hampshire down to Portsmouth (where, of course, the Clipper fleet is berthed when not sailing around the world). It’s about 50 miles so not something I’d contemplate at the moment, but there are train stations along the route, so with careful planning we could maybe do a ‘micro-Clipper voyage’. There are twenty sculptures made from Portland Stone along the way with details of the history and wildlife, so it would be very interesting. Here’s some information, if you think you might like a nice stroll in Hampshire one day.
One thing I missed relating to our Seychelles holiday (Post 156 of March 2024) was in a book I read. I think it was Attack Warning Red by Julie McDowell. A fascinating read, if somewhat scary. I cannot find the book so I can’t check. I must have lent it to someone: please bring it back if it was you!
Books are (possibly) a problem for me: I have more books than the average independent bookshop (honestly), but I do know roughly in which room they all are filed. I’ve been through them all twice. I should really catalogue them, but as many are pre-ISBN I’d have to list them all from scratch. The Penguins (first 1000 minus nine, with a further 27 that are not first editions) are obviously listed and my Kindle ones would be easy to list (although none of those are non-fiction) but the other six thousand or so? Anyone want a job in the countryside for a few months?
As an aside, here’s a picture of a bee and foxglove. I’m very impressed with my photography skills. Although not always so good, I have to confess.
Anyway, back to Attack Warning Red. We sailed on the Hebridean Sky around the Seychelles. A sister boat is the Hebridean Princess. She was originally the MV (Motor Vessel) Columba, launched in 1964, becoming the Hebridean Princess in 1989. Three boats built in 1964, including Columba, were able to be hermetically sealed from the world in case of nuclear, biological or chemical attack. Before becoming a cruise ship, she was a car ferry and Royal Mail carrier, based in Oban (where we didn’t go). I guess those driving on felt happy that huge waterproof doors were protecting their precious vehicles from the Scottish seas. The late Queen Elizabeth II chartered her for private events on occasion. In the case of nuclear war, it is rumoured that MV Columba would be the ‘escape vessel’ for the Queen and Prince Philip, taking them to a safe harbour (if any existed). Or just sailing around until sense intervened. I need to sail on her, even though I believe the ‘secret’ stuff has been removed. Hint to JD? He does keep finding wonderful holidays but I don’t think any are on the Princess.
Maybe more exciting is to find the secret bunkers etc mentioned in Attack Warning Red. I might have mentioned the one in Essex, Kelvedon Hatch, with the road signs to it (not so secret, Mr Bond). Ooh, I’ve just discovered you can hire it! A party! Maybe a bit far from home though we’d have no difficulty finding it.
Home 2
There are some old airfields not too far from us which might also be worth a visit.
Away from boats (for a while), but still in water, the artistic swimming (formerly known as synchronised) looked awesome in the Olympics. How did they manage to get upside down and perfectly vertical for minutes at a time without drowning and while waving their legs around? I thought I’d try to see how. As you’re reading this I obviously didn’t drown (unless I left JD with instructions to post this as my obituary?).
I don’t have a proper nose clip but plenty of bulldog clips from the office. Ow! That’s not going to work. I noticed they had nose plugs rather than clips. How about a bit of blue tack? No, much too hard and won’t stay in place. Hmm, maybe bread pellets? They’ll not be too uncomfortable. Ah, they got wet and floated away. Holding my nose means my balance was all wrong (of course, it was perfect beforehand). I give up. Although, I could buy a full-face scuba mask and try? Won’t look as elegant, I accept, but maybe I should do it in the name of research. One day. I did manage to post a comment on the BBC website, when they asked people which sport they wanted to try. This was before I’d seen the swimming so I opted for the climbing.
Assiduous readers of this blog will have worked out my favourite breed of car is Saab. I almost shed tears when General Motors refused to let them be built by a Chinese company in case they stole the technology (had they not heard of reverse engineering?). Whenever I see one on the road, less and less often I’m afraid, I shed a tear. Saabs, I’ve had a few, but then again, too many to mention. Hang on, I think I might be able to make a song out of that. Just change a few words and bingo, a best seller!
A week or so before our wedding anniversary, JD took his car in for an MOT. While he waited he went for a walk and wandered past a garage which happened to have a soft top Saab for sale on the forecourt. Never one to indulge in a whim (Clipper, anyone?), he nevertheless went to look it over and sent me a photo. Needless to say, it became our anniversary present. I say ours: although nominally mine, I can’t drive a manual car at the moment so need a chauffeur.
The week after, we were out for a very pleasant Sunday lunch, pootling along the byways of Somerset and annoying all other drivers by enjoying the sights. We went to a pretty remote pub called The Rusty Axe for lunch. It’s in Stembridge, close to Martock, but there seem to be no road signs (unlike the secret bunker). We eventually had to resort to my mobile phone to show us the way. Worth going for Sunday lunch if you can find it. Returning home, we needed some fuel and for whatever bizarre reason, the chauffeur filled it with petrol before remembering it was a diesel engine. Oh dear. A couple of chaps helped us push it away from the pumps and we called a company who specialises in such mishaps. Only four hours later they came out, drained the tank and put in some of the correct fuel. In case you don’t know, petrol will totally write off your diesel engine. I had jokingly said, when we bought it, that we should future proof it and convert it to an automatic electric vehicle. Maybe it’s something we need to consider seriously.
Not content with acting on impulse, JD is trying very hard to get himself a name as an eccentric. When in London, he loves wandering off to the exclusive shops that do not seem to exist in rural Somerset, buying delicacies for us to try. A while ago, he went into Fortnum and Mason’s. If you’ve not been, it’s very old and possibly the most up-market shop you’ll ever visit. They do great dark chocolate ginger biscuits that I am in danger of becoming addicted to.
https://www.fortnumandmason.com/
For whatever reason, when on his foraging trips, he has a tatty pink plastic carrier bag that would not look out of place in the Barbie universe. I’ll get a photo of it next time he’s off shopping. He says it’s so he doesn’t get mugged carrying around stuff from expensive places. That may be right, as such shops like you to take a bag and advertise their wares once you’ve spent your money. This time, he decided to buy some caviar (horrible fishy stuff if you ask me). You cannot actually take it from the shelf: they give you a ticket, you pay, take the endorsed ticket back and then collect your treat. Obviously, they pack it in a F&M bag for you to swish around, showing what exquisite taste you have. What they do not want is for you to take it away in a cheap pink carrier. Tough, JD won the argument. I think we need to go back to see if they recognise him (it) and let us past the front door with it.
When not upsetting shopkeepers, JD has decided to do some DIY. When we moved here, over 30 years ago, we inherited an old letter box that was finally becoming at risk of falling apart every time you opened the door to take the post out. (We do not have the luxury of a postman delivering to our door). In its time it has also served as a nesting box (somewhat inconvenient) and a snail haven (somewhat messy). Over the last few years, I kept saying we must buy a new box sometime, but not doing anything about it. I then threatened to ask someone to make one for us to our specification. WELL, that’s not allowed! The next I know, wood has been bought along with hinges, screws, a new lock, paint and possibly some specialist tools. I don’t know as I wasn’t granted access to the workshop. One of JD’s grandsons is a specialist roofer so he made the roof. We now have a post box worthy of F&M themselves!
Cocktail: I thought I’d try to be clever and make an advanced level cocktail, from a Scottish restaurant, slightly adapted so now known as a Farncombe Royale. Pour a slosh of cassis in the bottom of a champagne flute. Carefully pour a smaller slosh of limoncello on top so they remain separated. Finally, pour champagne or whatever sparkling wine you have to hand CAREFULLY over the back of a spoon to give you three separate layers. Or not. Of course, once you start to drink it they all mingle so I’m not really sure of the point of all the fuss.
I’ll never make a real mixologist. It reminds me of the time we were in a pub and I asked if they could make me an espresso martini. Sure, they replied, what is it. (This should have warned me). Vodka and a coffee liqueur with a cold espresso I replied. That is exactly what I got so no complaints, but it didn’t quite taste as good as when it’s made properly. The pub no longer exists so I can’t go back and give them training.
You’ll have worked out that this was not posted posthumously (unless JD is more masochistic than I realised, allowing his foibles to be published) so be prepared for more frippery soon.
George and John's boating trip no longer 