... a Princess was cast out. She had to leave her home, never to return, and move to a foreign Kingdom. There was a wonderful castle waiting for her in a distant County and her belongings were finally delivered one sunny February morning.
Alas and lack-a-day, the castle had been overcome by the Black Plague: the mould that wounds or kills everyone in its path when it enters their lungs. Nevertheless, she and her courtiers soldiered on until, eventually, the new home was almost fit for a Princess.
Alas and lack-a-day, the Princess soon discovered that the hot water didn't work; the heating didn't work; water pipes leaked into the bathroom from the lofty awesomeness of the attics above and, each time the Princess bathed or had a shower, floods of soapy, scented water would cascade from the old iron downpipes to the exterior windows, splashing pretty patterns on its descent.
Alas and lack-a-day, the grumpy old King didn't keep his part of the bargain to pay for structural faults so the Princess had to lump it and do the best she could but she shivered while the structure of the house continued to deteriorate around her.
Alas and lack-a-day, the mystical three-legged ginger cat, Suki, developed a cold. With sneezes, runny eyes and plaintive mewling the Being was only silent when he knew, in his cat's eye, where the Princess was. He was constantly at her side, whether she was in the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom, the living room or the back yard, he was always watching, sneezing or prostrating himself at her feet at the top of the palatial staircase or whilst she was carrying a heavy tray back to the kitchen.
The Princess erected the name-plate for the Castle so the Postie could know where to find her, more curtainings were fitted and the centuries-old growth of convolvulus and ivy was sprayed with Weedol. It did, however, rain shortly afterwards and whether our Sleeping Beauty within will awake remains a moot point.
The story continues.
Alas and lack-a-day:
Thursday 30 May 2013
Tuesday 28 May 2013
Justice Denied, Justice Delayed
57,000 people are on bail with one man still waiting to find out if he will be charged THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS after his arrest
"No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled nor will we proceed with force against him except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land. To no one will we sell, to no one deny or delay right or justice."So much for the Magna Carta then.
Brrrr....
I think I might need a hot toddy tonight (whiskey, honey, cinammon, water - not too much - and all piping hot) because I've been coughing and sneezing since yesterday. Where is the fabled English Riviera I was promised? Thank goodness for the gardening jacket and my fingerless gloves! Who can believe that June, Flaming June, will be busting out all over any day now? I think it must have rained almost every single day since I put a permanent foot in the Devon door. Even Suki has been sneezing - mind you, I suppose that's to be expected, he is, after all, a Spaniard so is unused to our temperate climate and chaotic weather patterns. I can see him now, three legs or not, packing his little swag-bag and heading for the Continent, a bit like Dick Whittington in reverse.
I had a terrific idea today: to take a pic of the kitchen, before, after, during, and then email the pics to myself and then upload them here. Unfortunately, today is the day the phone chose to give up the ghost completely. I've managed to keep it going for a few weeks by keeping it plugged in but today it decided to shift this mortal coil and now I can't make/receive calls or text messages at all. Again, you'll just have to take my word for it that the vintage wallpaper looks great! I'm so happy with it - it was made for me: beiges/creams/crusty loaves/eggs/teapots/wheat. It's a shame that the plaster underneath appears to have blown.
It's hard work, such hard work to the extent that I've done very little for the past two days and even before then it was little enough. Tools are missing or rusty, boxes are too high or too heavy, things haven't arrived (fences, house name and so on) and it's so cold that it's a little difficult to say the least. I think I might need three strapping lads before too long.
Suki complains all the time and when he does manage to leg it out of the front he hunts down the peaceable neighbourhood cats and engages in pawsicuffs. He's taken a dislike to one in particular - a sweet-faced little black and white moggy from next door who's crime really does deserve an asbo - he/she did his/her business in the front garden on the very first night the fences blew down; I think that's called taking the mickey. If only the local cats knew how Suki is really all mouth no trousers they'd just stand their ground and laugh at him: the only time he stops mewling is when he's on my knee - soft or what? I hope he gets over it soon, perhaps the move to Torquay was too much for him. Imagine the noise and mayhem if I'd gone ahead with my rescued chickens straight away - the flying feathers don't bear thinking about.
As for the raised beds, I can't do those until the new fencing is erected because I won't take the risk of losing anything. The water butt is still in the hallway together with the compost etc. What is exposed at the front, however, is 1800 litres of bagged peat and compost which cost me a pretty penny so I'm hoping that M's garden-chair-thieving-scummery doesn't take a stroll in my direction this evening.
The strawberries are growing well in their troughs and the tumbling tomatoes are flowering in their hanging baskets - they're the only things I've planted this year - so sad, but at least they seem to be doing well despite not being where they're supposed to be. The Star Jasmine is a different matter: it's looking decidedly sorry for itself at the moment and I'm worried that, if I don't get it planted out soon it will die and, again, that's something I can't/won't do until the fences are up. The clematis are thriving in their pots though so they're looking good to go when they're transplanted. I've also ordered a 7ft stake to support the remains of the lilac tree to help it flourish and protect it from the battering winds (optimistic much?) and I've discovered two garden lights that still work, albeit they're no longer attached to the wall because of the ivy.
One way or another, I promise to get pics to you soon. In the meantime, I know that if I do something, no matter how small, every day, I'll get there in the end. The paint for the front door and porch arrived today so that might be the next step - if the rain clears up, although I did make a bit of a pig's ear of the letter box - painting upside-down is not recommended.
Sunday 26 May 2013
It Will Be Nice When It's Finished
That short phrase probably says it all at the moment. After decades of neglect I'm finally uncovering the grisly truth about the house - and it isn't good. It's things I wouldn't even attempt to do: plumbing leaks in the loft, no ch or hot water, rising damp everywhere (because of being built into stone walls - whoever thought that was a good idea?) Never mind, it will all come out in the wash, much better to concentrate on what's been achieved so far.
Things like: planting out the strawberries and tomatoes. I had to buy young plants this year and put them into either hanging baskets or troughs because of the time. As it is I'm not too hopeful. For the first time I bought them on eBay and I have to say they looked tired, tattered and dejected when they arrived. I've done my best with the compost but I doubt there'll be much of a crop of either this year. It's good to try things out though - I may have a couple of tomato sandwiches, a bottle of home-made sauce and one strawberry tea at the end of it but I'll know better for next year - I'm more used to seeds than ready-made plants. The greenhouse might have to go on hold though because the corner of the back garden that gets the most sun isn't really that good. I'd have to squeeze round a 6 x 6 and a 6 x 6 is neither use nor ornament really so I'm having a re-think. Maybe a cold-frame or two or the dining room table.
In my last English home I had two greenhouses and a wrap-around garden. I grew melons, peppers, aubergines, onions, potatoes, strawberries, broad beans, runner beans, peas, peaches, apricots, apples, plums, courgettes - bored yet? - garlic, tomatoes, baby sweetcorn, anything and everything. I followed expert advice and planted ten seeds hoping that one or two would sprout but they didn't: almost always they all did and I was faced with a glut. Since then I've learned to scale back, ignore the advice and just plant what I need to eat, to freeze and preserve, together with some for the birds and some for the neighbours.
Talking of neighbours, M, next door, painted her wrought-iron garden chairs last week, only to have one of them nabbed overnight by a local villain. That's why I carted all my bits and pieces into the hallway and front room when my fences blew down - I can't afford to lose them. A second-hand garden chair is one thing but the loss of 400 litres of Levingtons, the makings of four raised beds, the water butt, vermiculite, the table and chairs, the hanging baskets and troughs would hit me harder than discovering the house needed a completely new gas central heating system. Some things you invest in emotionally and some things you don't. The ch is 'just money' and since it's probable that I'll never be able to change it because it's too expensive, the theft of gardening things would hurt me more.
Things I make, things I help to grow, are important to me because that's what I like to do: I like to make curtains and cushions; I like to have a garden full of good things to eat. My parents were tailors/tailoresses before they moved on to other things and my dad had green fingers (the neighbours used to queue up the road for his rhubarb and raspberries) and one of my first memories is of being knee-high to row upon row of raspberry canes as Dad led me up and down the labyrinth, so I suppose that's where my love of gardening comes from. Children fall into that category too - things I make, things I help to grow.
I've reluctantly come to the conclusion that my glass and china will, for the most part, have to be sold; there just isn't the space here for all of it - there aren't enough alcoves for shelves or money for display cabinets. If anyone is interested in 20th century glass (Wirkkala, Sarpaneva, Quistgaard, Sklo Union and so on), teak, pottery (Carn), china,(all English apart from some 20thC German & Scandinavian) drop me a line telling me what you're looking for and, if I have anything that matches, I'll send you some pics, once I find my camera! I have some Stuart Devlin and Carlo Moretti somewhere too though I may keep those. There's also a couple of genuine Spanish, white plastic sun-loungers - I won't need them going by the weather in Torquay at the moment and the only time they were used were when my boys visited me in Spain. Cushions (deep red/yellow/reversible & washable) available too.
P, the builder, comes tomorrow. I'll let you know how we get on with re-working the kitchen. He did a fantastic job of tanking the understairs cupboard so I'm toying with the idea of actually buying a new camera so I can let you see what he's done around the house and what I've done in the garden before it's all too late.
PS I've found this: Union Street Flea Market so that gives food for thought. All I need is a huge quantity of bubble-wrap and a cabbie. Happy days!
Things like: planting out the strawberries and tomatoes. I had to buy young plants this year and put them into either hanging baskets or troughs because of the time. As it is I'm not too hopeful. For the first time I bought them on eBay and I have to say they looked tired, tattered and dejected when they arrived. I've done my best with the compost but I doubt there'll be much of a crop of either this year. It's good to try things out though - I may have a couple of tomato sandwiches, a bottle of home-made sauce and one strawberry tea at the end of it but I'll know better for next year - I'm more used to seeds than ready-made plants. The greenhouse might have to go on hold though because the corner of the back garden that gets the most sun isn't really that good. I'd have to squeeze round a 6 x 6 and a 6 x 6 is neither use nor ornament really so I'm having a re-think. Maybe a cold-frame or two or the dining room table.
In my last English home I had two greenhouses and a wrap-around garden. I grew melons, peppers, aubergines, onions, potatoes, strawberries, broad beans, runner beans, peas, peaches, apricots, apples, plums, courgettes - bored yet? - garlic, tomatoes, baby sweetcorn, anything and everything. I followed expert advice and planted ten seeds hoping that one or two would sprout but they didn't: almost always they all did and I was faced with a glut. Since then I've learned to scale back, ignore the advice and just plant what I need to eat, to freeze and preserve, together with some for the birds and some for the neighbours.
Talking of neighbours, M, next door, painted her wrought-iron garden chairs last week, only to have one of them nabbed overnight by a local villain. That's why I carted all my bits and pieces into the hallway and front room when my fences blew down - I can't afford to lose them. A second-hand garden chair is one thing but the loss of 400 litres of Levingtons, the makings of four raised beds, the water butt, vermiculite, the table and chairs, the hanging baskets and troughs would hit me harder than discovering the house needed a completely new gas central heating system. Some things you invest in emotionally and some things you don't. The ch is 'just money' and since it's probable that I'll never be able to change it because it's too expensive, the theft of gardening things would hurt me more.
Things I make, things I help to grow, are important to me because that's what I like to do: I like to make curtains and cushions; I like to have a garden full of good things to eat. My parents were tailors/tailoresses before they moved on to other things and my dad had green fingers (the neighbours used to queue up the road for his rhubarb and raspberries) and one of my first memories is of being knee-high to row upon row of raspberry canes as Dad led me up and down the labyrinth, so I suppose that's where my love of gardening comes from. Children fall into that category too - things I make, things I help to grow.
I've reluctantly come to the conclusion that my glass and china will, for the most part, have to be sold; there just isn't the space here for all of it - there aren't enough alcoves for shelves or money for display cabinets. If anyone is interested in 20th century glass (Wirkkala, Sarpaneva, Quistgaard, Sklo Union and so on), teak, pottery (Carn), china,(all English apart from some 20thC German & Scandinavian) drop me a line telling me what you're looking for and, if I have anything that matches, I'll send you some pics, once I find my camera! I have some Stuart Devlin and Carlo Moretti somewhere too though I may keep those. There's also a couple of genuine Spanish, white plastic sun-loungers - I won't need them going by the weather in Torquay at the moment and the only time they were used were when my boys visited me in Spain. Cushions (deep red/yellow/reversible & washable) available too.
P, the builder, comes tomorrow. I'll let you know how we get on with re-working the kitchen. He did a fantastic job of tanking the understairs cupboard so I'm toying with the idea of actually buying a new camera so I can let you see what he's done around the house and what I've done in the garden before it's all too late.
PS I've found this: Union Street Flea Market so that gives food for thought. All I need is a huge quantity of bubble-wrap and a cabbie. Happy days!
Friday 24 May 2013
Rain, Rain Go Away ...
... and please take the wind with you.
Being such a gentle English Rose I don't take kindly to fighting against a buffeting wind. I don't know whether I'm in a particularly wind-blown part of Torquay but the fences blew down last night. They must have been only held together by the infestation of ivy and the dire shrubbery that I had cut down yesterday but, even so, I had hoped they'd at least survive until the new fencing panels arrived - ordered two weeks ago, they've yet to be delivered.
Something else that was one of the first things ordered was a house sign for the gate because no-one can find the place. I've lost count of the times I've been phoned by panicked delivery drivers or walked down the road in search of something that vaguely looked like a delivery van. I'm afraid I may be getting something of a disreputable name amongst local drivers and will soon be known as 'that mad woman from London'. Sod's Law dictates that the house sign, being one of the first things ordered, has gone missing - perhaps the delivery driver couldn't find the house.
There's still no sign of the camera so I can't show you before and after pics of the front garden but it does look better. Behind the life-sucking ivy was a beautiful curved wall of local stone and I love it - it's so bright and quirky. The plan for this long weekend had been to clear out the stones and dead twiggerybits from the adjoining beds but it's just too windy out there for me today. I actually had to drag everything inside yesterday following the fence incident - and I mean everything that I'd stacked in the garden because of lack of space inside, including the terrace furniture, the raised beds, the water butt and 325 litres of compost. I always say the most important thing in life, when you get down to the nitty-gritty, is access to the kettle and the teabags and that I have. As long as I have that, I won't complain (too much).
I either haven't been able to find the right tools or I'm not tall enough so I can't think of one job, beyond hanging a pic here and there or putting up some nets, that I've actually completed and it was mulling over this sad state of affairs that prompted me to make an appointment with a hairdresser. Some women buy a hat when they're cheesed off but I prefer the hairdresser. She's local, here name is J, the 'salon' is hyper-busy and rather swish, and she did a good job so I'll be going back - a rare event after I lost my usual London hairdresser to Suffolk. She also knows all my secrets in one forty-minute session - I've told her that if the other staff burst into laughter when I next walk in I'll know who to blame! We had such a good laugh & never stopped talking - therapy for a sore soul.
A man who is tall enough and does have all the right tools is P, the builder, and he's coming back on Monday to begin work on the kitchen. I hadn't realised it was a Bank Holiday when we made the arrangement and was concerned that he'd forgotten too but, no, he's happy to work on that day so I'm not complaining. He's been really helpful and I don't know where I'd be without him. Unlike some *ahem*. (The person that was aimed at wouldn't read this blog in a million years but it made me feel a little better to write it :)
Tomorrow, depending on the weather, I'll be either re-painting the front door ironmongery prior to a full re-paint (British Racing Green - what else?) or I'll soldier on with the garden clearance and forget about the central heating/hot water problems until the work's done and the bill comes in. I might even figure out how to erect the flagpole or put the barbecue together.
One thing I can't emphasise enough is how I'm so happy to leave London. I never belonged there. I'm Yorkshire-born and bred, went abroad, met someone, got married, lived in London, got divorced, did well, someone died, got ill, went to Spain, came back to London, got ill, got stronger, came to Torquay. I love it down here. I've met neighbours M, L, H, J and B and, boy, did we have some long chats, such lovely people :) I've also 'met' all the other neighbours sort of - a cheery wave Hello and Good Morning from a distance.
I can't tell you how different it is down here. The local shops are wonderful - I went into almost all of them on the way back from the hairdresser's this morning (I gave the Estate Agents a miss) and bought something or other - a paper here, a pint of milk there, a price-list or two for the local 'Sanctuaries'. There's also a wonderful Patisserie making delicious baguettes and pastries. I bought something for lunch and a fruit tart. Heavenly! They also had whole slab cakes displayed, freshly baked that morning and priced at £2.80. I had to ask whether it was priced per slice or for the whole, entire, tootly-fruitly-delicious cake. You could have knocked me down with a feather - it was £2.80 for the whole cake - in London it would be £2.80 for a slice. Hello Torquay!
One possible blot on the horizon is the chap I saw taking a pic of my house two days ago (in truth it was he, combined with the other problems, who sent me to the hairdresser). Why? That's what I want to know. He didn't even have the decency or good grace to knock on my door: he hi-tailed it up the road when I opened the front door so I'm expecting a snooty letter from the Neighbourhood Stasi some time soon and I shall respond to them in a truly English way... He, whoever he is, is 100% bound to love my flagpole.
Being such a gentle English Rose I don't take kindly to fighting against a buffeting wind. I don't know whether I'm in a particularly wind-blown part of Torquay but the fences blew down last night. They must have been only held together by the infestation of ivy and the dire shrubbery that I had cut down yesterday but, even so, I had hoped they'd at least survive until the new fencing panels arrived - ordered two weeks ago, they've yet to be delivered.
Something else that was one of the first things ordered was a house sign for the gate because no-one can find the place. I've lost count of the times I've been phoned by panicked delivery drivers or walked down the road in search of something that vaguely looked like a delivery van. I'm afraid I may be getting something of a disreputable name amongst local drivers and will soon be known as 'that mad woman from London'. Sod's Law dictates that the house sign, being one of the first things ordered, has gone missing - perhaps the delivery driver couldn't find the house.
There's still no sign of the camera so I can't show you before and after pics of the front garden but it does look better. Behind the life-sucking ivy was a beautiful curved wall of local stone and I love it - it's so bright and quirky. The plan for this long weekend had been to clear out the stones and dead twiggerybits from the adjoining beds but it's just too windy out there for me today. I actually had to drag everything inside yesterday following the fence incident - and I mean everything that I'd stacked in the garden because of lack of space inside, including the terrace furniture, the raised beds, the water butt and 325 litres of compost. I always say the most important thing in life, when you get down to the nitty-gritty, is access to the kettle and the teabags and that I have. As long as I have that, I won't complain (too much).
I either haven't been able to find the right tools or I'm not tall enough so I can't think of one job, beyond hanging a pic here and there or putting up some nets, that I've actually completed and it was mulling over this sad state of affairs that prompted me to make an appointment with a hairdresser. Some women buy a hat when they're cheesed off but I prefer the hairdresser. She's local, here name is J, the 'salon' is hyper-busy and rather swish, and she did a good job so I'll be going back - a rare event after I lost my usual London hairdresser to Suffolk. She also knows all my secrets in one forty-minute session - I've told her that if the other staff burst into laughter when I next walk in I'll know who to blame! We had such a good laugh & never stopped talking - therapy for a sore soul.
A man who is tall enough and does have all the right tools is P, the builder, and he's coming back on Monday to begin work on the kitchen. I hadn't realised it was a Bank Holiday when we made the arrangement and was concerned that he'd forgotten too but, no, he's happy to work on that day so I'm not complaining. He's been really helpful and I don't know where I'd be without him. Unlike some *ahem*. (The person that was aimed at wouldn't read this blog in a million years but it made me feel a little better to write it :)
Tomorrow, depending on the weather, I'll be either re-painting the front door ironmongery prior to a full re-paint (British Racing Green - what else?) or I'll soldier on with the garden clearance and forget about the central heating/hot water problems until the work's done and the bill comes in. I might even figure out how to erect the flagpole or put the barbecue together.
One thing I can't emphasise enough is how I'm so happy to leave London. I never belonged there. I'm Yorkshire-born and bred, went abroad, met someone, got married, lived in London, got divorced, did well, someone died, got ill, went to Spain, came back to London, got ill, got stronger, came to Torquay. I love it down here. I've met neighbours M, L, H, J and B and, boy, did we have some long chats, such lovely people :) I've also 'met' all the other neighbours sort of - a cheery wave Hello and Good Morning from a distance.
I can't tell you how different it is down here. The local shops are wonderful - I went into almost all of them on the way back from the hairdresser's this morning (I gave the Estate Agents a miss) and bought something or other - a paper here, a pint of milk there, a price-list or two for the local 'Sanctuaries'. There's also a wonderful Patisserie making delicious baguettes and pastries. I bought something for lunch and a fruit tart. Heavenly! They also had whole slab cakes displayed, freshly baked that morning and priced at £2.80. I had to ask whether it was priced per slice or for the whole, entire, tootly-fruitly-delicious cake. You could have knocked me down with a feather - it was £2.80 for the whole cake - in London it would be £2.80 for a slice. Hello Torquay!
One possible blot on the horizon is the chap I saw taking a pic of my house two days ago (in truth it was he, combined with the other problems, who sent me to the hairdresser). Why? That's what I want to know. He didn't even have the decency or good grace to knock on my door: he hi-tailed it up the road when I opened the front door so I'm expecting a snooty letter from the Neighbourhood Stasi some time soon and I shall respond to them in a truly English way... He, whoever he is, is 100% bound to love my flagpole.
Wednesday 22 May 2013
Monday 20 May 2013
Get The Barbie Out!
The problem really is that I've been here since the 2nd but only yesterday did I come across something that cooked hot food - an electric plug-in grill that provided a welcome bacon sandwich. Any port in a storm! The cooker here is broken and my replacement won't be delivered until Thursday - and even then it won't be up and working because the chap who's fitting the new kitchen isn't free until next week. He thinks he's coming to put up a new fence but, oh boy, do I have news for him! I'm starving! I wouldn't mind if living on crispbread and tuna fish or sardines had lost me a pound or two but there's no discernible difference so I'm hankering for a hot meal and lots of chocolate.
I wish I could find my camera so I could upload photos for you but I can't find it. The place is in such a state with boxes piled so high that I need serious, rugby-league help to lift them. I've learned a lesson since I spent the first week in pain after continuing to heave and carry boxes from room to room after the first warning signals - now, if I get a twinge, that's it for the day. I am, however, making progress and I'm delighted but my bank manager is not because in my case 'making progress' is a synonym for spending tons of cash.
The gardens, such as they are, are lifeless and devoid of wildlife - it's very sad. One of the first things I bought was a bird feeding station - a black twirly thing with lots of hooks that looks as if it might be suited to supporting a politician or two but, in reality, wouldn't take their weight. I erected it at the back and waited eagerly for word to get round that there was a new 5* restaurant in town - 'FatBallsRUs'. Hmmm... Not a tweet, not a twitter, not a cheep; nothing except one woodlouse swimming for his life in the birds' drinking water. I may have to reconsider siting it.
The other big job I've begun, but can't finish because it almost finished me, is digging out the overgrown shrubbery and ivy that has all but murdered light and space in the front garden. I'm hoping that my intervention has rescued the lilac tree that was infected by a fungus and from which the ivy was greedily sapping life. There are three or four good suckers that I can cultivate but it will take a year or two until they reach full height. I love lilacs.
It's a shame I haven't stumbled across my camera yet: it would have been nice to show you a photo of my fingernails - a sort of 'before' and 'after'. Now you'll just have to take my word for it that they were, a few short weeks ago, long, painted and elegant. I decided to buy raised beds rather than have them made and they arrive later this week/early next together with 1800 litres of compost/peat/vermiculite/water granules/tomorite/hanging baskets and so on and so on. By the time I've finished all this, what nails I once had will be a distant memory and the only ones of which I'll have any knowledge will be the masonry type.
Suki says 'miaow' and sends the latest pics of himself - the first is of him setting paw into the open air for the first time in two years and the second is after wearing himself out chasing woodlice and slugs around the ground floor: he's so disorientated now that he follows me around more than ever - he's even taken to sitting on the bathroom chair while I bathe, which I find slightly surreal and rather spooky to be honest.
I'm sorry the post is a bit long and rambling but so much has happened that it's difficult to be concise. Think yourselves lucky that I haven't mentioned my lovely postie with the smiley face and the glorious Devon accent. I'm not too keen on the bin-men though: they didn't take last week's bin which was bequeathed to me, full of smelly rubbish, by the previous owners. I haven't got to grips with recycling down here yet either- it's different everywhere you go. And that reminds me, I must let the Council know I'm here... and the gas... and the electricity...and the water...
Thursday 16 May 2013
Culture Shock
I finally made it down to Devon and I spent my first week in wide-eyed amazement and gratitude at the two elderly gents on the street who tipped their hats as they wished me a Good Morning and the neighbours who popped by to wish me well and offer help in the move. To paraphrase: 'Suki, we're not in London anymore'. I think I may have found a corner of England in this foreign field. A redoubt?
A great deal has happened in the past two weeks; the sky has fallen and the press have been all over it. I don't think I've heard anything else on Radio4 (the only news station I've been able to access until now) apart from the retirement of a football manager and how it would be disastrous if we left the EU. It's all a Conservative split, of course, and nothing to do with the people of this nation wanting a say in how their country is run. Lord, how I despise politics and its spin. At the risk of sounding serious I'll tell you that Torbay has a LibDem MP (Adrian Sanders) and a Conservative MEP (Giles Chichester).
Where I live, Wellswood, has its own 'village' shops and is a short bus ride from the harbour. Everything is local, if you can afford it, even the Co-op. After a week of only being able to limp to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, my back was better by Sunday morning so I went to buy papers and milk. At the checkout:
"You don't look very happy; are you alright?"
My culture shock went into hyper-drive as I smiled and fumbled apologies for my 'London face'.
More later.
A great deal has happened in the past two weeks; the sky has fallen and the press have been all over it. I don't think I've heard anything else on Radio4 (the only news station I've been able to access until now) apart from the retirement of a football manager and how it would be disastrous if we left the EU. It's all a Conservative split, of course, and nothing to do with the people of this nation wanting a say in how their country is run. Lord, how I despise politics and its spin. At the risk of sounding serious I'll tell you that Torbay has a LibDem MP (Adrian Sanders) and a Conservative MEP (Giles Chichester).
Where I live, Wellswood, has its own 'village' shops and is a short bus ride from the harbour. Everything is local, if you can afford it, even the Co-op. After a week of only being able to limp to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, my back was better by Sunday morning so I went to buy papers and milk. At the checkout:
"You don't look very happy; are you alright?"
My culture shock went into hyper-drive as I smiled and fumbled apologies for my 'London face'.
More later.
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