Apologies everyone but I've once again donned the travel kaftan and Madam has picked up the guitar of transition.
We've been away again and this report could take some time.
Oz for Easter,
Dress Code: Sports Casual
and a land where they put salt and vinegar crisps in a pink packet
which seems the work of a troublemaker and causes a cove to assume the status of "buyer beware"
We were in to Melbourne to visit William and his Pals who are in hiatus having recently completed their cricket season and are two weeks away from driving a camper van around New Zealand.
Ethiad bumped us down gently in Tullamarine at 5.00 am on a Saturday morning where we received word from the carefully booked taxi that he would be with us in twenty four hours, as I had apparently made a mistake regarding dates. Sixty five bucks (yes, they call money bucks) to a man in yellow taxi got us to our billet in Southbank a twenty minute walk from most things including William's flat in South Yarra.
And at this point can I address what is one of the last medical taboos.
ME and Mumps get all the heat when it comes to debilitating conditions, but why are there no support groups or treatment centres for Jetlag?
We'd been advised to push on through the first day and try to eat and sleep at normal local time.
Madam's clever watch recorded twenty four thousand steps during our opening skirmishes in Melbourne but I can only remember half of them so dazed was my state.
We ate in the evening with William and his mates and when I sat down in our apartment with a postprandial glass of grog an hour later my head fell off my shoulders and wine went all over the floor, I then fell asleep cleaning my teeth.
The following day was Easter Sunday and the clocks went back an hour in the night further confusing the body clock. We caught the tram to St Kilda for lunch or possibly breakfast.
where there were penguins pelicans and lots of hipsters treading the boardwalk and beach.
Easter Monday found us attending "The G" or the MCG as it used to be known for an AFL game between The Hawthorn Hawks and The Geelong Cats.
Each team enters the field to a team song plucked from an episode of It ain't half hot mum or possibly Monty Python
The G wasn't quite full but a few shy of 75,000 enjoyed an exciting game that ended 118 - 117 to The Hawks.
I won't pretend we knew what was going on for much of the game, an awful lot of what the late great Bill Mclaren would have termed "argy bargy" went on off the ball which didn't seem to bother the nine or ten match officials required to cover what is a rough game on a very big field.
National Gallery of Victoria next. A free gig a five minute walk from our front door, it is a tremendous place to spend half a day.
From the wonderfully whacky, through the Ming and the Qing to the European stuff from many ages, it is very well done. Sprinkled with blockbusters, cleverly mingled rather than put on a stage with fanfare and lights, it is remarkably unstuffy.
The contemporary stuff was all that one would expect although sometimes it was difficult to equate the artist's meaning of the piece with what was placed before us. We seemed to be doing all the heavy lifting for the Japanese artist who took the credit for the interior of a house adorned with red chrysanthemums. Each person who entered was given a red chrysanthe to stick somewhere on the piece. Is this conceptual art? If it is, it seems nice work if you can get it.
Tucked in a corner was a Rembrandt of an old man that once adorned the front cover of a Ladybird book on Dutch artists. A Picasso of a distraught woman pulled from his much bigger piece Guernica popped up and there standing full square was Elizabeth Thompson's work depicting the remnants of the 28th at Quatre Bas repelling Marshall Ney's Cuirassiers which feature's in many books, TV programmes and articles on the battle of Waterloo. I had no idea it was this far from home.
The Melbourne Comedy Festival was underway throughout our stay and we met up with William and a couple of mates to take in David O'Doherty in the Forum Theatre. A small venue, we were aware of his work having seen him before in Vicar St in Dublin. This was the opening of his next tour that will be in the UK later this year. Catch him if you can, he's very good.
On the tram to the regenerated Docklands next with William and his friend Rosie. The Docklands are everything that Ocean Village in Southampton wanted to be bar the swarms of jellyfish. The walk back along the river was undertaken in high heat (did I mention it was in the mid to high twenties for most of our stay) with lunch taken outside. Madam and myself headed home mid afternoon as we were due to catch an early morning plane to Sydney the following day.
The taxi cleverly booked to take us to Tullamarien airport had arrived twenty four hours early so another booking was made and with the Freeway being dug up we were the last people to check in for the hour long flight to Syders.
Down to Darling Harbour first for a bit of a bumble about before catching the ferry round the corner and under the bridge to Circular Quay and the site of the first footfall of chancers and ne'r do wells back in the 1700s.
Off the ferry and a close inspection of an Opera house that was not quite the colour that I expected before hiking round to Mrs Macackers corner ( I think that's her name) pausing briefly for coffee, before taking in one of the best views of the bay.
Back through the stunning Botanical gardens to the centre of town where there is some seriously swanky shopping to be had, along with some stunning late Victorian shopping arcades.
There are some lovely green spaces in Sydney but they do like a sign. Warning of Tree failure seemed a little extreme, isn't this what trees do?
A branch not much thicker than my arm fell off a Mentholyptus tree outside our apartment and the road was closed and the Fire service summoned.
A bit different to the response a fallen branch in Bransbury receives.
Kangaroo fillet for dinner in Darling Harbour with Dumbledore's pensieve for a side show, but for Fawkes the Phoenix, read ladies in scanties pushing some pretty average chocolate.
It was clever stuff with much smoke and mirrors with the odd light thrown in and might be something we should think about incorporating on the River Dever.
In high heat we rode train and bus to Bondi the next morning to touch base with Kertbox et al.
For those unaware of their work or who do not have CBS Reality TV Channel, it's a programme starring the Waverley Council Life Guards of which Madam and William have long been big fans.
In perfect conditions I had a go at surfing and it seemed to go well.
Madam's day was capped by the blue board being invoked to perform a rescue in some waves that are bit bigger in real life than on the TV. We identified backpacker's rip and walked around to Tamaramarama beach for lunch before heading back into central city to catch a train to the airport and a flight back to Melbourne.
Back in Melbourne we gave up on the taxi service and hired a car for five days.
South Melbourne market in the morning
before a closer examination of the stunning Botanical gardens in the heart of this city.
Less formal than the Sydney botanical gardens there are many informative signs
with some sensible messages regarding water and managing habitat to improve biodiversity in billabongs.
but calling Invertebrates Minibeasts?
Out in the car the following day. Passing within a mile of Neighbours' Ramsey St and Patterson Lakes, the setting for the brilliant "Kath & Kim"
we made our way along Mornington Peninsula to Rye where our blankets were laid on the beach and we dipped bread into some excellent dainties purchased from a hip deli in Elwood.
Aussie Rules Football practice to follow where we were joined by a portly labrador who kept rushing into the sea to shake his head underwater. The beach was stunning and quiet with loads of space for both budding "footy" players and many dogs.
Early afternoon we transferred to Blairgowrie. Rye is a gentle sea within the Melbourne lagoon, Blairgowrie is on the ocean side and the waves are fresh in from the Southern Ocean and have a little more momentum behind them. We walked through some scrub to a beach where Rachel used skills acquired at Calshot to clamber down and up cliffs to a stunning beach where there are high rocks that the younger generation are drawn to jump off into a messy sea.
The weather can change quite quickly here, clouds rolled in mid afternoon so we repaired to Arthur's Mount a country park on top of a high hill,
to use the municipal barbecues. Chef cooked a selection of snags sourced from a cricket club contact who is a supplier of meat.
The view of the peninsula was stunning and we saw numerous birds from Eagles to Cockatiels
and bumped into our first live Kangaroos.
Back in the car to join the hoards from downtown Melbourne who spend the weekend on the peninsula for an hour and a half drive up the freeway.
Turns out it was "Take your parents to work" day in Melbourne the following day,
Madam got to go on the photocopier and I got to send a fax.
Back in the car, we headed up the Yarra valley to a winery growing grapes introduced in the the 1850's from a region of Italy we were bumbling about in this time last year.
We made a purchase and it was very nice, but it's all gone now.
Out to Yarra Glen next and up through the Christmas Hills where there was no sign of Santa
but we came across the Kangaroo Garden war memorial
which afforded a peach of a view back to Melbourne and quite a story about the original curator who somehow made it through most of the major battles of the first world war. He planted the Rosemary bushes around the base of the tower with seeds he gathered at Gallipoli.
Back in the white Pantechnicon that serves as an everyday car in these parts to hit the Great Ocean Rd and an appointment with a beachside apartment in Apollo Bay.
It's a spectacular drive with the road hugging the coast for fifty miles or more. There were many surfers and also the remnants of a Rip curl event with stands and marquees clinging to the cliffs in order to take in the world class froth, carve and bings (contemporary surf parlance I believe) in the surf below.
Lunch by the sea at Lorn, or was it Larn?
No matter, further down the coast road on a brief bladder break we ticked another box with a couple of Koalas up a nearby mentholyptus tree along with parakeets, cockatiels and a great egret on the River Kennet.
Not quite as clear as the Berkshire stream at home but brim full of fish all the same, although akin to its Berkshire namesake there are trout to be targeted in its headwaters, and at this point I could go expand on the argument for non native species that are not invasive, but will refrain, as I appreciate that this chunk of guff is assuming Ken Dodd proportions.
We demolished various bits of lamb, chicken and local sausage on the barbecue having failed to harvest anything from the sea after an hour or so fishing.
A surprise thunderstorm forced us to put the carbon rods away on the cusp of "bagging up" on Australian salmon and flatheads.
Up and out of Apollo Bay to the Otway peninsula. A National Park brim full of wildlife with beautiful walks and beaches and silent bar the native twitterings of birds various that we completely failed to identify.
According to the internet, Koala sleep for twenty hours a day and today we saw several up and about feeding, so we consider ourselves quite lucky.
The walk to Crayfish bay calmed Madam's fitbit following a prolonged period of chauffer service. Pitching up on the sands we had the place pretty much to ourselves. There were many interesting things in among the rocks including some micro mussels and funny starfish, some very big waves and it is a place that we will remember for a long time.
Back on the road past a kangaroo who had clearly been a member of the Tufty Club and was making preparations to carefully cross the road, to drive back up the Great Ocean Road (and it is great) pausing briefly for lunch at a craft beer place (they're big on "craft" beer in these parts) to Melbourne.
Spent the last two days bumbling about Melbourne shops and kicking back in the hot tub and pool
before a final meal together and our flights home.
It's a tremendous city to visit.
It would be interesting to return in ten years time to see how the rapid expansion that is currently underway has progressed.
Fourteen hours on a plane got us to Abu Dhabi where we spent two hours before a seven hour flight back to Blighty. Two hours into phase two of our journey as we were passing over the Middle East, we received word that Donald, Makro and May,finest purveyors of arms and ordnance, had set off a few missiles in the immediate vicinity and could we head east for a bit, which added a certain frisson to the flying experience.
Touchdown complete we gave battle with the hopelessness that is the M25 and the marginally better M3 before arriving home and forming a pioneering support group for victims of Jetlag.
Thank you very much to the support group who filled in at home while we were away.
I seem to have gone on a bit, further river guff to follow.
Briefly returning to the cove Gove and his bonafides.
Before any claim is made that the genius switch has been flicked following the proposal to introduce a deposit scheme for recyclable bottles.
Half of Europe has implemented such schemes for many years and not just the Teutons, Goths and Visigoths who happen to have a particularly efficient way with a supermarket crate of beer.
This guy was way ahead and well on his way to becoming a recycling millionaire a few summers back in Croatia, where they queue up in Lidl car parks to exchange their recyclables for "money off" coupons in-store.
Finish a bottle of water on the beach and somebody will soon be along to collect the empties.
It's a tremendous idea, perhaps this cove Gove is warming to Europe after all.
I could now attend to proposed punitive charges for filling in forms to be perused by somebody in fine fleece and cutting edge outdoor trousers at the Environment Agency, but will refrain as a long weekend is approaching and I'm informed that a vein bulging on the side of your head is not a good look and we shall be in company so several deep breaths and Happy Easter everyone.
and if the experts are right the sustained and determined consumption of red wine, dark chocolate and biffidus digestivum guarentees that in the football game of life we are just approaching injury time at the end of the first half.
I say we because yes, both Madam and myself passed the mark in the same week as I am her senior by three days.
On the day of the passing of my fiftieth year we dined at home with my menu of first choice for the day being Pie, Mash and Mushy peas with the pies sourced from The Good Life Farm Shop and hey Good Life if you'd like to furnish me with some free pie for this product placement I don't do Chorizo.
That's The Good Life Farm Shop folks,
Pricey pies, but crikes they're good, give them and their meat, cheese and much more besides, a go.
Anyway I pulled the pies out of the oven and promptly threw the lot on the floor in an oven glove fail incident.
I have dropped other things since turning fifty.
On Madam's 50th birthday her desk was decorated at school and she received many gifts, had the Happy Birthday sung to her several times and the pleasure of one of her pupils guessing the significant age she was passing as forty.
Needless to say he received good marks for his efforts with a "should go far" writ large in the margin.
Having informed me that I was dropping many more objects since I passed fifty the day after she reached the landmark I received an urgent call from Madam at school who had left home without any spectacles and could I run some up to school toute de suite!
A spectacle chain and oven glove are now on order.
Welcome to the world of fifty.
The snow and ice has now all gone and the spring hole that we cleared after Christmas is already demonstrating the benefits of improved light and a slowly increasing discharge although the spring ditch that runs through the village that should be running remains dry.
On the pond the senior pair of swans are making preparations to nest with an elaborate raft of twisted reed. On the river the ducks are way ahead with the odd egg already abandoned in the fringe. Kingfishers have resumed their aerial dog fights over best places to nest and just the other day I buried a micro Muntjac that had broken its hind leg.
Cormorant numbers remain on the rise, an observation confirmed by the nearby "Big Fish" trout lakes and for the second season running we seem to have acquired big numbers of somebody else's two to three pound triploid brown trout; a sociable bunch they have subsequently drawn the eye of Tarka whose presence was betrayed during recent snowfall, when they also sussed out the small streams in my employer' s garden. The fen that we fired a month ago is on the cusp of leaping into life and a trickle of olives in the afternoon are beginning to catch the eye of the numerous brown trout although the grayling are showing no sign of starting spawning yer.
I'll keep this one short as there will be much to discuss in the coming weeks.
Oh yes,
Here's one of some ducks that Hilda and Stan would approve of,
Oh yes again,
Why is Michael Gove Minister for the Environment?
He's spouted some pretty odd views in recent weeks regarding the environment. Madam still bears a grudge from his time as Education Secretary but what are his bonafides for his current position?
Still dry, although the river has crept up slowly following the retreat of Snowmageddon. The Field known as "Spring Bottom" remains dry although the sheep have been moved off it which is a positive sign. Some of our banks are close to assuming the status of "soft" which is another good sign.
Work this week has been varied,
The walkway below the fishing hut is exactly twenty three years old.
I built it when I was a stronger man, aged 26, listening to the Cheltenham Festival through bleary eyes as an eight week old William required feeding every other hour and subsequently Madam and myself were a little fatigued.
Twenty three years later William still visits the trough every other hour.
We spoke to him via the magic of the internet the other day and he was cooking a steak, which is all well and good as he's an independent twenty three year old a long way from home but it was one thirty in the morning where he was and he'd already completed the old standard Q&A between Parnet and child on what he had had for his tea.
The posts supporting the sleeper top were fast approaching the end of their life and considering the doofus who built the thing, the bridge proved remarkably resilient and clung to its position stubbornly.
The sleepers came off easily enough and two thirds of them are in a reasonable enough condition to be used again, but the four by four posts that I banged in with the mother of all bumpers when I had strong arms put up some resistance and winches, tractors and the ire of Ludgershall and English had to be invoked to ease them from their lie.
On the cusp of fifty, I don't knock posts this far into the river bed anymore, if you fish here in the coming years you may want to wear some form of buoyancy aid or at least break step when you cross the replacement bridge.
On removal it was all too apparent that the posts were approaching the end of their life. Not rotten, but eroded by twenty three years of river flow that had reduced them from a four by four post to a two by two. The section that had been banged into the bed was in the condition that it had been in when it was banged in all those years ago. I have pulled out posts older than these that have been in a similar condition and at this point I'd like to make a pitch for an expensive anti ageing cream formed from the scrapings of the river bed.
Although we may need a fresher face than my own to be the face of the product.
Fresh oak posts are on order and some replacement sleepers have been sourced to rebuild the bridge as was and given the required amount of red wine, dark chocolate and bifidus digestivum can we'll all agree to meet up in twenty three years time to run through the process again.
The tin is out and I'm tickling up a few heaps of silt/expensive anti ageing cream that would taint the river when the weed growth really kicks in and pushes water into places it hasn't visited for much of the winter. With the end of the grayling fishing season imminent I've taken the tip off the fringe which is now demonstrating signs of imminent lush green growth. The cold snap last week hit our frogs hard. I've come across a few dopey specimens on the road in the last week, a dangerous journey from hibernating on higher ground on the bank and verge to the warm water of the Mill Stream. The school pond also experienced thick ice and a bag full of dead frogs had to be removed before Madam took Class 2 out for "pond dipping"
While we're on school, the kids produced a leaflet to be pushed through doors in the village highlighting the risk of ground water flooding. Groundwater flooding isn't going to happen this year but well done the school for raising awareness of how water works in a chalk valley.
Well Done!
The Shepherd's hut over on the Itchen has received a coat of paint as the canary yellow base coat was beginning to show through in a few places. The weed seems to be slow to grow on that stretch of the Itchen compared with the verdant Dever and there will be nothing to cut in April. Trout fishing starts a little earlier over there so we keep our fingers crossed for some early hatches of grannom. Here on the Dever Trout fishing breaks out at the end of April. We have a full complement of rods and a couple of people waiting for vacancies. In just over two weeks they will all arrive for lunch where I will be expected to explain my movements throughout the course of the winter and present them with a river full of fish for four weeks time.
Confusion was caused on Mother's Day when William sent some flowers to his Mum.
Because they needed to be signed for, he had them delivered to the school on the preceding Friday.
Here's a photo of the label.
There are around fifteen staff at school who answer to the name of "Mum"
Three of them named one of their darlings "William"
It took some detective work, and at one point the head teacher pulled rank and claimed the blooms as her own but the mystery was solved and the flowers eventually delivered to their intended destination.
It seems this house has made another appearance in The Trout and Salmon Magazine.
It's a big month for the EA and their efforts to introduce exorbitant charges for a range of services and also in their battle with the weasels at the water companies who are opposing the EA's efforts to reduce the impact of abstraction on the both the Test and the Itchen.
The house also rocked up in Fly Fishing and Fly Tying magazine last month with a few thousand words and many pictures regarding tricky fishing for pristine grayling.
There has been a lot written about Ken Dodd since he passed away so here's a few more.
I remember seeing him live at the ABC Theatre (Regal as was) in Chester. It must have been the late seventies as the theatre that once played host to the likes of The Rolling Stones and Morecombe and Wise was converted into a cinema in 1980. I attended with my parents and brother and sat in the stalls on the left hand side looking at the stage. The Diddy Men marched down the aisle within touching distance confirming that they were actually real beginning a quest for magical mines that we only called off a few years ago.
There was no support act, there was no need and it was one of the latest nights I experienced in my formative years. I do remember a lot of laughter and a man who appeared to be in his element on the stage.
I regret not making the effort to see his act for a second time.
They seem to be sexing the thing up with some seriously edgy names, but weren't "The Beast from the East" and "Storm Emma" WWF wrestlers back in the day?
No matter, it is a heavy fall of snow, that didn't used to be such an unusual event in early March, and while some now trumpet the first day of this month as the onset of spring I surmise that in all my years I have hurtled down a snow covered hill on whatever was available in the garage (currently a bespoke car roof box for a second generation Renault Scenic) more often in the Easter holidays than the Christmas holidays. I'm not sure it's an event that merits numerous " One Show Specials" with live reports of burst pipes and slippery pavements, but it is a proper winter event that will benefit flora and fauna who, in a mild winter, can sleep lightly and wake up prematurely. About twenty centimetres have fallen in this part of the valley, the wood burner has not been extinguished for three days and drifting snow has threatened to block the Entre and Sorte to the small cluster of houses that is Bransbury.
The chickens are a little bemused and the fish in the river revel in occupying the warmest spot in the valley as the air temperature has remained at or below freezing for the past seventy two hours.
It's a great time to take a walk and gaze at the ground and footprints that betray creatures that currently haunt the valley.
No sign of any otters or foxes which is tremendous news but there are a bevy of badgers in the Andyke and numerous roe deer and muntjac in the wood. This afternoon I was moving things around in the workshop and disturbed a juvenile grass snake hibernating beneath the bench, which was quite a surprise.
Regular visitors to this parish will know that punctuation and grammar are a struggle and occasionally the words are presented in the worng order with a colon surprise! So it may sound a little hypocritical if I call out a few for glaring mistakes in both the written and spoken word. The paper that I have read for the past twenty years, not for any political reason but for the quality of its sport section which was just about all William would read in his teenage years, happen to be the Daily Telegraph. The quality of the editing has taken a bit of a dip in recent times with spelling mistakes and sentences that don't make sense on the increase. Over on the radio I recently heard a current "goto guy" on all things sport describe Billy the bronze medal snowboarder as self depreciating.
Yes, Billy's getting smaller and smaller in front of our very eyes and it's all of his own volition.
Billy does have a self deprecating manner when it comes to humour.
While we are on sport on the radio, why do so many sports summarisers (former players mostly and I'm looking at you John Lloyd, James Taylor and Emily Rainford Bent) when packing for a tour abroad forget to pack sufficient quantities of the letter "t" and over estimate the number of the letter "d" they will need for the trip?
It's not vidally impordant but id todally geds on your dids a bid afder a while especially when coupled with a lack of done and adequate expression when delivering the sendence thad inevidably ends with a rising inflecdion.
It's the modern way I guess, and there may be some megalomaniac on a submersible island with a magic diction affecter ray at work somewhere out in the oceans and it at this point it may be apposite to discuss the next James Bond.
and at this point I'll break, as I think I've found out where all the letter "t's" have gone.
The excellent Jeremy Coney is working his way through them in commentary on the current one day series in New Zealand.
Anyway, back on the river,
Apologies, river in a mo.
My ear has just been caught by a programme that Madam is watching in the next room in which a three year old has "accidentally" put an almond up his nose.
You don't accidentally put almonds up your nose.
so let's not be hasty in dismissing this little guy as a crank, he may be some kind of seer/visionary and be on to something.
So come on everybody, get yourself an almond
a hazelnut may suffice,
but ffs! (contemporary parlance) don't do a coconut
Nuts up the nose, it's the future
You'll never feel more alive !
Oh yes, the river.
For the few days preceding the third Ice Age (as described by the Daily Suppress) we experienced an incredibly dry easterly wind which proved to be perfect conditions for burning fen and reed beds. Butterflies and things that buzz in the summer will be pleased as come august there will be substantial drifts of hemp agrimony and much more besides which are manna for such creatures that reside in a chalk valley. It also provides thick winter cover for game birds. The window for getting the reeds burnt is a narrow one between the end of the shooting season and before ground nesting birds hunker down to undertaking the business of producing an egg or two. Not the driest of windows but worth it if conditions are favourable.
We've planted numerous indigenous hardwood trees to fill in the gaps created by all the ones that fell over that now reside in various stashes of logs. All new trees have been staked and guarded against deer and rabbits. Deer will nibble a sapling at any time of the year, but at this time of the year with grass a bit thin on the ground rabbits will strip a tree of its bark to a height of eighteen inches.
Recent walks in the name of lengthening life have been local affairs as some weekend time has been allocated to erecting fences and gates at Maisie and Callum's house in Kingsclere.
We did venture out onto the Ridge two minutes drive from their house where many famous race horses have been put through their paces.
On the morning we traversed the ridge the sky was full of Red Kites and several counties were in view.
With regard to all things left foot, right foot, I have been selected for the Sport Relief Billion Steps a Day Challenge Team. It's a great honour and one long overdue given the fact that it has the word "Sport" in the title and it is a widely acknowledged fact that if Thierry Henry had been gifted my left foot he would have been complete.
I have promised to do as many steps a day as I can for Sport Relief, if you would like to make a donation please visit the following site
Oh yes, apologies about the special effects on some of the photos in the piece. Seems my clever camera isn't idiot proof after all and I clicked some special effect button by accident.
