Blue Witch

Eggstinct

Always pushing the boundaries of good taste education here at BW, here's the latest marvel from The Coven Grounds.

Harriet the Broody Hen unfortunately sat down rather too heavily sometime on Thursday and broke one of her five silkie eggs. This is the 10 day old embryo (beak on lower left hand edge of left blob, eye in middle of left blob):

So, anyone who said that more than 7 of the original 8 eggs were going to hatch is now out of the prediction race. Ah, that's no-one then. At least we know now that one of the eggs was fertile...

And just think, this embryo was about half-way through its gestation period, and chickens are slaughtered at around 6-7 weeks of age. Therefore, 53-60 days from this point, if you eat chicken, this would be what ends up on your plate.

Apologies if you were eating, or had just eaten.
Eggspecially if it was chicken ;)

Updated insurance

(follow-on to post immediately below this)

Well, OK, it took me just under 3 hours altogether, but for £3 less than my original insurer wanted for just buildings cover, I now have top-notch buildings and contents insurance, together with a year's free travel insurance for both of us. A saving of £250 altogether. That's a saving of 43% compared with what we paid last year (and last year I had the cheapest combination of policies).

If you use the insuresupermarket link mentioned in the link in the post below, don't forget that places like esure and Egg aren't included in it. The latter two do especially Value quotes - well, for Witches anyway; quotes vary enormously depending on many factors, so what is cheapest for one person may not be cheapest for another (and in case you're interested - esure are underwritten by HBOS, and Egg by AXA).

As I mentioned in the comments box below, while doing a Google check on [insurance company name] + complaints, and [insurance company name] + complaints + blog (just to see if there were any obvious horror stories before I signed up), I stumbled upon an interesting site that lists readers' favourite personal finance products.

Insurance

August is always an expensive month as most of our house and car insurance policies come up for renewal.

Every year I spend a couple of hours shopping around for the best deals. I always start with one of the insurance supermarket sites and then work outwards, approaching companies directly (as direct-sale prices are often cheaper than the prices via referral-sites). My scheme is fairly similar to that advocated by Martin.

For the past couple of years if I have found cheaper premiums they have only been pennies cheaper, so I've gone with the 'better the devil you know'/ can't be arsed to change theory.

But this year... I've found up to £100 difference on buildings and £60 on contents policies (I've found that it's rarely better value to combine the two, despite their claims of discounts).

After I'd found the best Value buildings insurance policy on-line, I decided to look at my exisiting insurer's website. The on-line quote came out £52.50 cheaper than on my renewal paperwork, for what appeared to be identical cover!

I rang up. Apparently, so the man on the phone told me, I'm very lucky still to have an old-style policy which doesn't depend on my no-claims history, and gives me unlimited cover, as they don't exist any more, and it was easily worth the extra £52.50.

I pointed out that I had made just 2 claims on building insurance, totalling less than £1600, in the 24 years I have had buildings insurance, and that unlimited cover means nothing, as I know that they will only pay out what they consider something to be worth.

He was surprised when I persisted in wishing to cancel the policy.

So far, on just one policy, I've saved nearly £100, and it took me just 42 minutes. Do you earn £125 an hour?

Consolidation

Thought for the day

It isn't enough to talk about peace.
One must believe in it.
And it isn't enough to believe in it.
One must work at it.

- Eleanor Roosevelt

The company you keep

Most company names are boring, nondescript, or predictable.

Just occasionally I see one that makes me think, "Wow that's clever!" and wish I'd thought of it, or wonder why no-one else had before.

For example, yesterday I saw a van belonging to a firm selling water cooler refills to offices. It was called Thirsty Work (and although t'inter says they are one of the leading companies, they apparently have no website...).

And then there are those that make me positively cringe.

Diaper Poultry, for instance, who supply various local catering and butchery outlets. The other day I saw their lorry outside a take-away where no-one who's lived in Local Small Town for more than 10 minutes eats. I wonder if that's why?

Then there is Cakebread's "sanitaryware suppliers" (as it said on one of their juggernauts which caused me to need to do an emergency stop on a roundabout when he pulled out in front of me at point blank range the other day). Rather a confusion of outlets methinks.

What are other really good or really bad company names?

After the event

This morning Mr BW was pleased to find that no Nice Ladies had forgotten to go home last night.

The Tented Village hastily erected on The Coven Lawn provided excellent shelter from the persistent heavy drizzle, and an old Stella Artois pub parasol, rescued from a neighbours' skip when they moved house, made an excellent BBQ shelter. Things always come in useful if you wait long enough.

I don't know how they manged to use 14 tea towels (why are tea towels so-called, I've often wondered?) but I can't complain because the place was spotless when they left, as always. As was recently said on the BBC coverage of Tatton Park Flower Show, if the Nice Ladies ran the country, all would be OK.

We seem to be left with: 11 baked potatoes, 2 large bottles and a half-empty (full?) bottle of diet lemonade, dregs of apple and orange juice, 17 bits of cut-up butter, half a bowl of julienne strips of cucumber and spring onion, 6 half wraps, a tablespoon of hoisin sauce, 3 veggie sausages, and half a pint of double cream.

In Ready Steady Cook style, I could make some sort of Chinese stir-fry for tonight's dinner with most of it. Or give it to the hens. The latter appeals more.

Already I have had 2 phone calls this morning seeking forgotten items. One Nice Lady was concerned about her lost biro. I didn't like to say, but the phone call must have cost more than the freebie pen was worth. The other Nice Lady asked whether she had left her keys. "But Esther," I said, "surely you drove home and opened your front door after you left me last night?" "Yes, but I can't find them now!" she said. If I get like that, just shoot me, please...

Thought for the day

Just living is not enough...
One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

- Hans Christian Andersen

Same script, same cast

The weather forecast says that it's going to rain today.
Lots.

There are 50 Nice Ladies due here this evening for an outdoor event.

There is definitely not room inside The Coven for 50 large ladies (they're not all large, but the ones who are large are very large, and use up the normally-sized ones' 'large' space).

For details see last year's post, and/or the year before's.

Dashing...

Thought for the day

A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Thought for the day

The uncomfortable reality is that many of the terrorists live amongst us, were brought up amongst us, and yet have been taught to hate our culture.

As far as those who literally spit hate at our country ... I personally would be prepared to deport those where it is clear that what they are doing is causing civil unrest and may cost other people, as a result of that, their lives.

- John Major, 25.07.05

I never promised you a rose garden...

But here's the one at Cant's of Colchester, anyway:

It was a rather overcast day when I happened to be that way, and dropped in for a look and a smell last week, but it was still, as ever, an amazing experience. You can easily spend an hour walking round the field, where roses are grown on for sale, and where new varieties are trialled. The best thing is... it's free.

You can select and order from the rose field now, and they will dig up and dispatch bare-rooted plants through the autumn and winter months.

They do sell some pot-grown roses, to take away now. I managed to resist 'Sweet Magic' and 'Bewitched', but succumbed to 'Rhapsody in Blue'.

Thought for the day

Diamonds are only chunks of coal that stuck to their jobs, you see.

- Malcolm Forbes

RIP

Not a victim of The Ginger Familiar this time (indeed, the spell to stop GF eating birds, particularly white D'Oves, seems to have been very effective, except that another blogland ginger cat a hundred or so miles away was recently found in possession of a dead parrot, which may, or may not, be a result of minor spell wonkiness around the edges).

Mr BW found this little quail looking very sorry for herself yesterday evening, and we took her away from the others, who seemed to be standing round in some sort of quail death-ritual, warmed her up by cupping her gently in our hands, fed her warm milk, took this photo, and put her in a box on a warm towel in front of the Aga. She seemed to revive a bit last night, and was still just alive this morning, but, sadly, she is now an ex-quail. Still pretty though.

In other bird news, after only one day, Harriet Hen has already manged to 'lose' one of the 8 eggs she's meant to be incubating. I found it under some straw in a corner, and although I put it back with the others, it's now almost certainly not going to hatch, as warm-cold-warm is not a good way for hatching eggs to be.

Oh - and - Mr BW found 12 white D'Oves in a line down the centre of the road outside The Coven as he went to work this morning. Impersonating white lines, obviously.

Thought for the day

Democracy don't rule the world,
You'd better get that in your head;
This world is ruled by violence,
But I guess that's better left unsaid.

- Bob Dylan

We shall not be terrorised

Despite having banned Mr BW from attending any business meetings in London for the forseeable future after the events of 2 weeks ago, I decided that the lure of a free ticket (worth £9) to the Artists' & Illustrators' Materials Exhibition in Islington was just too much of a temptation for a Value Witch with a penchant for tubes of paint in pretty colours. So I ignored my own banning rules.

Cleaner BW, who arrived this morning just as I was preparing to leave, was very unhappy about me venturing into the capital. "It'll be fine," I said, "I've done a spell!" "That's what I'm worried about!"* she said.

Hating train trains, I drove to the end of the Central Line, as I often do, parked in the road where you can park after 11am (so saving £3 in the car park, which is always full by 8am anyway), and wandered down the road to the station. There was a notice up saying "Security incident at Sherpherds Bush, severe delays," but there weren't, and I arrived at the Design Centre at just after 12. Having chastised the security men on the door for not looking in my bag properly, I claimed my free pastel pencil and A5 sketchbook, and went in.

The first I knew about events was at 1.30pm when Mr BW rang me. I seemed to be the first of the OAPs and artists present to know anything about it, but phones soon started ringing out all round the hall. It's funny, watching ageing personages trying to work out how to answer their 'only for emergencies' phones. Everywhere, people started talking to strangers and the stallholders about how they'd get home/ how few people there'd be at the exhibition for the next 3 days/ how all Muslims are scum and should be deported/ how we'd had it coming to us etc etc. Lots of Daily Mail readers, I surmised. Misinformation and supposition abounded. While they were muttering in corners, I was busy snapping up bargains.

Around 2.45pm, there was finally a loudspeaker announcement about what was happening - which amazed some people, as it was the first they had heard of it (they must have been deaf) - suggesting that people stay put. One lady near me screamed, and everyone stared at her in a Frightfully English Manner.

Mr BW and I spoke several more times (although we both had problems getting lines), but information (partly from the net, partly from his colleagues with partners also in London) was unclear. By 4pm I'd accumulated 5 carrier bags full of freebies and bargains (bombs don't stop Value Witch :)), and word was going round that the whole of the underground was shut (although, on close questioning, the only thing that anyone actually knew for certain was that Angel, the nearest tube station, on the Northern Line, was shut). With that much luggage, even though I'd worn sensible shoes (I don't have any that aren't sensible, after all), I didn't feel like walking any further than absolutely necessary, so I availed myself of my hot-line to The London Oracle, who, as suspected, knew exactly what was what and helped me plan the best route home (*Grateful Witch*).

I was amazed that the bus driver was making people with large bags open them as they got on (is that policy or was that personal choice?) - although, weirdly, despite having umpteen bags, he waved me by. And I travelled on the fullest Central Line train I have ever been on, from St Paul's. For once, those standing inside the carriage were moving down, and people were just accepting others piling into the doorspaces. I don't think I've ever seen such a visible police presence anywhere - on every station platform, by the ticket barriers, and outside every station that I could see.

It didn't take me any longer than normal to get home, and, perhaps surprisingly, there was no tangible sense (or even Witchily sense-able sense) of panic.

Well, that was an exciting day.

* Well, OK, I lied about that bit :)

Sign of the times

OFSTED reported this week on drugs education in schools. Overall, since 1997, they have found an improvement in quality.

However, figures on BBC Breakfast this morning suggested that 18% of 11-15 year olds had used illegal drugs, and 23% had drunk alcohol in the week before the survey (whose details I haven't yet been able to track down).

There are at least 2 schools in England now carrying out random drugs tests on pupils, and others considering it.

Good thing or bad thing?

And what about random drugs tests in the workplace?

Thought for the day

The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost.

- G. K. Chesterton

Eggstreme measures

Harriet is a very naughty hen.

She took ages to get from the 'point of lay' at which I bought her, to 'actually laying', and then managed 3 tiny eggs, only just larger than quails' eggs, before deciding to go broody.

Now, we've managed to keep hens for 8 years without any of the others going broody. Young hens aren't supposed to go broody, and Light Sussex aren't an eggspecially broody strain, so I was rather surprised.

I've tried everything I can to stop her - shutting her out of her house (from where she evicted Elsie, her sister hen, ages ago), shutting her in the house, throwing her off her 'nest' every time I walk past, removing any eggs that any other hen has been laying in that house when the bigger one is occupied - but all to no avail.

So, now I've decided to work with nature, and get her to earn her keep in a different way. She's now sitting on 8 fertile eggs.

The pink pencil crosses are an eggsperiment to see whether they all get turned the same amount, as the books say. There's a O on one side, and a X on the other.

The 3 white eggs are from a rare breed called La Fleche (picture here, bottom left - aren't their 2-pronged combs devilish?) and the 5 others are silkies (larger than the usual bantam-size ones though). Which is all I could get hold of in a hurry in the local area.

Silkies are the very last breed I'd have chosen as (a) they can't abide the wet, and our orchard in winter is a swamp, and (b) they are far too 'pretty' for my liking. However, if any hatch, I'm sure I shan't have any trouble selling them as they do look very cute. Besides, all the best people in this corner of blogland have silkies :)

I'm so eggcited. I haven't hatched chicks since I was at primary school (I went to one of those progressive 60s primary schools where the curriculum was taught eggsperientially).

21 days to H-Day (Hatching Day)...

How many chicks do you think I'll get from the 8 eggs, and how many will be hens?
(I'm hoping that one of the Nice Ladies, or their husbands, will know how to sex them at a young age...)

Thought for the day

I do not think that the NHS is a good thing.

It is a dinosaur, and no longer appropriate to the age in which we live.

But, how to uninvent it and invent a system that can meet needs?

For example:

Schools have OFSTED to take a regular critical overview (and have had for many years). Where is the equivalent government body for hospitals? League tables are absolutely meaningless, as they are made up from figures supplied by individual Trusts. Lies, damn lies and statistics.

See also Panorama, "Undercover Nurse" 9pm, BBC1 tonight.

Thought for the day

It will not always be summer; build barns.

- Hesiod

Why "Make Poverty History" just won't work

There may be some local opposition to George Galloway, but he hits the nail firmly on the head here (via).

A few choice paragraphs:

Why does a child in Africa die every three seconds of preventable causes? Why did the tsunami last Christmas devastate so much of south and south east Asia? Because the people there are poor. There is no other reason.

And why are they poor? It’s because a tiny number of people standing at the head of the multinational corporations that bestraddle the globe are obscenely rich.

You can’t get slim by eating low fat chocolate — it has to be part of a calorie controlled diet.

You can’t make poverty history by writing off some of the debt of some of the countries in Africa and pretending you have made up for centuries of exploitation and injustice.

I went to Bangladesh this year and visited a sweatshop. There were hundreds of workers, mainly girls of 15 and 16, sleeping in quadruple bunk beds in the sweatshop compound.

They work from 6am to 7pm, six days a week, for 60p a day. Most of them do not leave the compound.

What were they making? Tesco jeans. They made hundreds of pairs every day for Tesco, which made £2,000 million profit last year selling things that other people make.

How are their profits that huge? Through the exploitation of workers in Britain, the exploitation of suppliers at the lowest margin and the exploitation of workers abroad, like in the sweatshops in Bangladesh.

Poverty at home and poverty abroad are connected — there is no separation. The hard pressed worker in a Tesco supermarket or depot, deprived of the basic right to sick pay, may not be on the edge of starvation — but they share a common bond with the girl in the sweatshop in Bangladesh.

Did Tesco behave illegally? No. What they are doing is their duty — to maximise profits for shareholders. They are behaving like upstanding capitalists.

Read the rest.

Other than the sentence in the middle on cows, and the last few lines, there wasn't a lot I disagreed with. And the article was in Socialist Worker. Hmmm.

The only thing that will stop the likes of Tesco is *you*.
Choose where you spend your money wisely.
It may be value to you, but it may not be Value if you Value other people.

I'd suggest that it's hypocritical to sport a 'Make Poverty History' wristband or banner on your website and shop at Tesco (and of course Tesco aren't the only ones, but they do appear to be the worst), or buy branded 'luxury' items made in the Far East...

Thought for the day

We are going to build on the past but we are not going to be strangled by it.

- Edward Heath

Thought for the day

Prophet of doom

mass media = mass hysteria

It worries me.
The effects of mass media.

It always worries me, because its accessibility and immediacy distorts reality, and alters people's fundamental perceptions and needs.

But particularly in the last week.

I was a student in London in the early 80s.
For two of those years I lived on Oxford Street, opposite M&S at Marble Arch/ Selfridges.

I lived through the IRA terror campaign.

From the window of my hall of residence cell I saw shop premises evacuated on a daily, if not bi- or tri-daily basis. I saw controlled explosions by the then new-fangled bomb-robots. I frequently had to go a long way round, to avoid the police-taped-off areas, to get through my own front door.

I heard the IRA bomb go off in Hyde Park on 20th July 1982. 11 were murdered and more than 50 were wounded on that day.

My then boyfriend's brother was in Harrods buying my 21st birthday present as the bomb went off in the street outside in December 1983. 6 were killed and 90 injured.

But, I don't remember the degree of sensationalism that there has been in recent days. I don't remember everyone being quite so shocked. I don't remember everyone, everywhere, talking about it quite so much. There certainly weren't 2 minute silences. There weren't blogs and discussion boards to bring the minutiae of the experience to the rubber-necking masses, all of whom were busily constructing their own tenuous connection with the event, in an attempt to find a more comfortable pyschological congruence with the incomprehensibility of what had happened.

It's mass communciation that does it.
I don't think it's a good thing.
Negativity is not good.
It sucks energy.

And it wastes energy, because, ultimately, there is nothing that the peson in the street can do to change anything, at a meta level.

It's happened before.
And it will happen again.

No doubt, next time, there will be even more detailed media coverage.

Now remind me, comparatively, how many people have died in Africa, and how many have died in Iraq since last Thursday?

Foreign news.

Am I the only one who thinks our news is fast following the unfortunate American model? How long are people's memories? As long as the next big home news story, I'd suggest.

Clouds at sunset

Sunsets are one of my favourite things.

The Coven's main view is to the south-west, so we are very fortunate in experiencing beautiful sunsets most nights in the summer and early autumn. But, they are the hardest thing to photographically capture as they are, I think. Either the light or the colours change as they are grabbed onto film or into pixel form.

This portion of cloud, taken a couple of evenings ago, is the closest I have ever come to stealing a piece of reality.

Thought for the day

All human beings hold to the tools of their own destruction.

- Barbara Gordon

Working hard

On the left is my summer office and on the right is my current view.

It doesn't have air conditioning, but it does have a Ginger Familiar who licks one's feet from time to time which is quite cooling.

And the fountains burbling in the background are very soothing. Except when someone rings up and I have to point out that I'm sat by a pond, lest they think I'm in the smallest room...

Could be worse, I suppose :)

The laptop and wireless network have been the best purchase I have made this year, undoubtedly. Ah, except that it was last year, just. Now, what more do I need? Ah, yes, a robot to bring me chilled water every 30 minutes... Anyone know where I can get one of those?

Thought for the day

Until you value yourself, you will not value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it.

M. Scott Peck

Another finished project

Well, that's just ever so slightly better, isn't it?

It's weird, from the moment it went in, it just looked like it had always been there.

That seems to be the last project too. Except that... yesterday afternoon I had this idea about re-doing the sink in the utility... The day after we moved in, we had the present sink put in and B&Q cheapie specials (all we could afford at the time) just aren't made to take 10 years of garden, DIY and livestock abuse.

As Mr BW had yesterday off, we've just about finished digging out and replanting the long border too. Well - I say we... I sourced and bought the plants and placed them, and oversaw their installation. Mr BW did all the hard work, bless him. I'm sure that in a previous life I had gardeners galore and swanned about my acreage with a swish of crinolene and a twirl of my parasol. And those of you who know me can stop laughing right now ;)

These days, when it's hot, like today, my preferred dress is a knee length thin nightie with short sleeves. Well, there's no-one around to see through it, and it's so much more comfortable and cool than wearing clothes.

And the Ginger Familiar is 6 today.

Thought for the day

The cause of violence is not ignorance. It is self-interest. Only reverance can restrain violence - reverance for human life and the environment.

- William Sloane Coffin

Thought for the day

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

— Carl G. Jung

Currency

I've already managed to upset half the Nice Ladies in the village by boycotting today's local VE celebrations (sic), so I shan't be surprised at any reaction I may get to this post.

Our great leaders (sic) appear not to have learnt the lessons from any previous war, so what is the point of continuing to hold events of commemoration/ remembrance? If such events are not working to keep the utter futility of war firmly in people's minds, then surely the major reason to continue to hold them is as a celebration, a 'pat on the back', for those still alive who were involved first-hand?

And how many such events do we need for goodness sake?
Weren't there enough last year?

On a similar theme - to my way of thinking, the gutter press's sensationalisation of last Thursday's events does a similar thing.

Every time something like this appears (via), the terrorists have scored another point. I'm sorry, but any editor who allows this sort of anonymous phrase to go to print is not being responsible:

A firefighter, who asked not to be named, said: “I picked up a dead woman to move her out of the way and her head came off and dropped to the floor with a thud."

I thought twice about quoting that, as in doing so I'm giving it yet more publicity. But, I thought the point needed to be made.

Don't forget, someone out there, who believes in his/her cause is cutting these stories out of the papers and sticking them into a scrapbook of celebration.

Terrorism is just war by another other name.

When will the world learn?
What will it take for the world to learn?

(Aside - interesting comment on Thursday from terreus if you haven't seen it)

Timely suggestion

Now, I'm guessing that a lot of people will already have seen this as the campaign was originally launched in April (although I must admit that I hadn't heard of it until now) and I've had 2 copies emailed to me this afternoon already... but...

East Anglian Ambulance Service have launched a national "In Case of Emergency (ICE)" campaign with the support of Falklands war hero Simon Weston and in association with Vodafone's annual life savers award.

The idea is that you store the word "ICE" in your mobile phone address book, and against it enter the number of the person you would want to be contacted "In Case of Emergency". In an emergency situation ambulance and hospital staff will then be able to quickly find out who your next of kin are and be able to contact them.

I already have "1home" as the top entry in my phonebook, largely so that if I accidentally press it, someone whose name begins with "A" doesn't get an unexpected call, but I shall now also put 1ICE and ICE in (the 1 (one) before ICE ensuring the entry comes at the top of the list, so making it even more obvious).

A new way out: Part 3

(start here and read up if you haven't already visited today)

This was the scene at just after 12, before I popped out to the dentist (broken back tooth, which he somehow managed to re-fill without needing a crown or inlay as I'd feared). The only thing that hurt was the bill. £134.50. But, I guess someone has to pay for his brand new Porsche Carrera S (a snip at just under £70K) parked outside the state-of-the-art surgery...

It's weird, eveyone seemed to be driving much more courteously and sensibly than normal today... but then Large Local Town, where my dentist is, has many, many people who commute into London every day, so it's likely that everyone has been in contact with someone who had first-hand experience of yesterday.

The door now has its locks, handles, security bolts, and the glass is just going in. We won't mention the glass, will we dave ;)

Cups of tea dispensed so far: 5. I had to get more milk when I went out. At least he doesn't take sugar. And he knows how to use a toilet correctly (that might only be amusing to long-standing readers with good memories for trivia).

A new way out: Part 2

(start here and read up if you haven't already visited today)

The old back door is now out, and standing down the side of the house.

The old frame was held in by, "More 6 inch nails than even a pessimist could think necessary, plus a few frame fixers thrown in for good measure" (I had already warned our joiner that the extraction wouldn't be easy, as the windows were just the same - the previous owner was a retired master carpenter, and the house was altered in 1978/9 by him and his master craftsmen building buddies - and I suspect materials all came free so they used the best, liberally).

The new door frame is going in as I write.

Have you noticed the strategically placed broom, with the unspoken message, "Make sure you clean up after?" :)

Cups of tea dispensed so far: 2

A new way out: Part 1

3 years on from when we first decided that our back door (that leads from the utility room into the garden) was rotting, so needed replacing, today's the day.

The day was nearly 2 weeks ago, but when the joiner turned up, it transpired (luckily as he was removing the screws in the hinges to take the old door off, rather than after he'd removed the whole door frame) that he had made it the wrong way round (note careful choice of words there ;)).

We dillied and dallied because we wanted a door of the same quality as the front door, that would last 100 years, but we didn't want to pay what it was to cost, and, initially, we couldn't find anyone who would do the complete job (all the joiners we contacted would only make, leaving us to find a carpenter to fit, and carpenters are rarer than hens' teeth round here).

Eventually, two and a half years after he'd first drawn up the door to our exacting specifications, we persuaded the first man we'd seen (who came highly recommended, and makes coffins the rest of the time), to do the complete job.

I'll let you know how it goes on...

Thought for the day

Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.

- Salvador Hardin

Addendum to the post below

Could someone tell me why the official casualty line is an 0870- number?

The Authorities making money out of tragedy (2p is going to whoever is running the line for every minute that each person is using it, and it's costing the person calling at least 7p per minute (usually nearer 11p from a landline, and much more from a mobile)).

Outrageous.

Say 'No' to 0870.

What a day

I pulled into the school on the eastern margins of London where I was working today at around 9.20am, just as reports of 'a power surge' on the London Underground were beginning to break on BBC London.

I sensed that, given that the G8 Summit was starting at Gleneagles, and that London was celebrating the award of the Olympics, it was most unlikely to be a power surge.

Knowing that most of the school's pupils' parents worked in Town (they need to, to afford the fees!), I abandoned what I was meant to be doing and spent the first half hour of the morning helping the head, bursar, matron, and secretary construct a plan for managing what might later happen. I was actually quite shocked that they had no critical incident plan.

By the time I left at 4pm, it had emerged that 6 children (5 familes) in the school had parents caught up in the disaster (in an injured way). Of those, one is unaccounted for, and one is in critical condition in the major accident centre. But, our plan worked, and everyone was impressed. A few minutes of thinking things through early-on is always a good thing to do.

When the Iraq war first started, I did some telephone support/ consultation work for those education professionals suppporting children in some of the service schools in an area in which I previously worked. The father of one of the children with whom I currently work on a weekly basis is currently working in Iraq. My mind naturally connected the two scenarios.

Why is it OK for us, the British people, to still be involved in a war that was never directly anything to do with us, perpetuating violence, on a daily basis, against innocent civilians, but it's not OK for violence to be inflicted on us? And I don't accept that there is any difference in the basic fundamental use of force by humans against other humans.

As Mr BW commented at DG's earlier,

I guess it was horribly inevitable that it would happen here at some time and what better/worst time than when the elite of the security service will be in Scotland and will probably have been concentrating their surveillance there for the past few weeks. I know that there are more people killed in Iraq by car bombs every day than first reports suggest have died in London (with a horrible feeling that it will go up), but it does not change the sickness of the people willing to blow others up to make a point, wherever they are in the world.

I was amazed at how quickly the mobile network collapsed (15 miles from the epicentre, I had no Orange service until after 2pm) - and Mr BW tells me that O2 (who power all his company's mobiles) disconnected all service to them, some 40 miles away, to redirect capacity.

Had the terrorists got a similar attack planned for Paris had they won the Olympics? Or was it all about the G8? We'll never know.

And all I'll say to those violent thugs currently in central Scotland is - your violence is on the same mindless, mornonic, senseless continuum as the terrorists'. And let's not forget Bob Geldof - who has to take some responsibility for encouraging them to be there.

A quick click around, and I think all London Bloggers we know are safely accounted for... we wish them well in getting home tonight.

Pigs might fly

Right, nearly 11 hours after the first version of this vanished into a cyberhole (it's been a long day, but at least they paid me in cash ;)), we'll try again...

However, the Olympic bid turns out later today,

[amazing how quickly blog posts become out of date, isn't it?]

at least we finally have progress on the pink pig white elephant that is the Battersea Power Station, and the promise of 9,000 new jobs.

In a week when Pink Floyd came to the attention of a new generation, I think that it is fitting that a new use has finally been found for one of the most iconic derelict buildings in London - made famous the world over by its use on their 1977 classic album, Animals.

The power station was designed by the British architect Sir Giles Gilbert Scott (who also designed the red telephone box), and built in two phases, in 1933 and 1953 (when the 4 white towers were added). It was the third largest power station in Britain, and between 1937 and 1980 provided London with up to 509 megawatts of electricity per day (that would probably just about power the computers and lights in one office block these days - how times change...).

After being decommissioned in the early 80s, Battersea Power Station was hastily given Grade II listed building status, and quickly bought from the Central Electricity Generating Board for £1.5m by a developer who planned to build an Alton Towers-style complex on the site.

Now, I know quite a bit about the debacle that followed, as a recently-qualified accountant brother of a then-boyfriend of mine was part of the feasibility team. I have always loved old utility buildings (waterworks, electricity generating stations etc), and was troubled when he confided, "It isn't going to work BW, because they're spending far too much on their lunches." He always spoke in metaphors.

The roof was removed in 1988 for development, but costs spiralled after structural problems were discovered. Five years later the site was sold again.

Since then various other schemes have been proposed for it. Did you know, for instance, that, at one time, it was the preferred location for the new Tate Modern?

When we took a trip down the river in April last year, I was dismayed to see the state the building was in. Originally, it had an Art Deco control room, Italian marble turbine hall, polished parquet floors, and wrought iron staircases. A few pictures of its interior now are here.

The new project, a large shopping, leisure, conference and accommodation complex, is due to open in 2009. It has its own website, here. But I wish you luck navigating it, because it's a nightmare. It doesn't work with my voice recognition software, and it requires a level of co-ordination that many older or disabled people just won't have. I'm sure the developers had a great time building the site, but, to me, someone who wants information, speedily, it just doesn't work.

Let's hope the architects, engineers and builders make a better job of the redevelopment of this wonderful old building than the web developers have done of the website, eh?

As an afterthought, in the light of today's big news... I do wonder where all the construction workers for this, and for all the Olympic building projects, are going to come from... and where they are going to live...

I sadly suspect that the vast majority will be immigrant labour rather than workers from other parts of our own country. Perhaps if some thought was put into providing reasonably priced accommodation in London for our own unemployed builders from other areas than the south-east, they'd be able to afford to go where the work is, and we'd end up with less of a housing crisis in London in a few years time when the number of labourers drafted in from abroad for the short-term building boom that has just been generated are no longer required. [oh what an excellently constructed sentence, but I'm in a hurry as I'm going out again!!!]

And don't get me started on the poor old allotment holders of Waltham Forest who will lose probably their greatest pleasures in life... or the businesses who will be compulsorily purchased and demolished to make way for a few days of sport (yeah, OK, I know, it's part of a bigger plan...).

Certainly the East End needs redevelopment; it's years, decades, overdue but how come 'we' can find money for it now, with no promise of making any money at all from the Olympics (I think I'm right in saying that the 1984 Los Angeles 'Coca-Cola' Olympics were the first ones to make a profit?). And look at the empty, dis-used white elephant that is now the Sydney Olympic complex - an unappreciated free gift from the rest of the world. What a waste.

I guess I'll be in a spoilsport minority here, but, hey, someone has to say it.

Pigs might fly

*deletes expletives*

For the first time ever since moving to MT, I have just lost a post (or, at least, the updated version of a draft).

Haven't got time to redo it now as I have to go out, so you'll have to guess what it was about from the title, until I get back later...

Thought for the day

The gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing knowledge.

- Albert Einstein

Hampton Court Gardens: 3

Best in Show: The Old Police House

It was getting dark by the time we got round to here, so I've had to play with the levels in the left-hand picture a bit, but it adds something I think... There's a daylight version you can spin around here.

It was a superbly executed recreation of a traditional country police house - part cottage garden, part vegetable garden, all done on the make-do-and-mend philosophy that seems to have beeen misplaced in most people's gardens these days.

The picture on the right is the area to the right of the house - they had nearly as many 'objets' as I do. But only nearly :)

Hampton Court Gardens: 2

The Best Small Garden in Show:

Inspired by the children's book by Phillipa Pearce, Tom's Midnight Garden certainly was enchanting. Packed full of detail, a hugely diverse range of planting and colours, and some really novel ideas.



And best of all, all the designers were young, recent design graduates, who were absolutely delighted with how their efforts had turned out, and they let me into the garden to see the bed (made of sempervivums, one of my favourite plants) close-up.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of light as it was just about to bucket down as I took the photo.

Hampton Court Gardens: 1

Wildlife and alternative therapies co-existing in perfect balance in the city.

This small garden, called The Natural Reflexology Garden was delicate yet sophisticated, and perfectly combined clean uber-contemporary lines, an integral foot-massage path (well, OK, that's what the leaflet says, I thought it was more like pebbles set in concrete...) and bubble foot spa, with bee and insect-friendly cottage-garden pink/blue/purple blocks of native planting (and an eye-shaped wild bee nest on the back wall I noticed).





I'm surprised that it only received a Silver-Gilt Medal as the planting and staging were one of the most perfectly executed that I saw, and I loved the concept.

Oh - and see those beautifully lined rocks?

I've had one of those for several years :)

Hampton Court Gala

I've recently seen school uniform for the new term in my local Woolies and in M&S, before most schools have even broken up for the summer holidays. But snow in July? It really could only have been in the Daily Mail Marquee at Hampton Court, couldn't it?

Now, the quality of this picture isn't great, but it does show that not every toff has understood the rule that once one's favourite fabric has been assumed by the lesser classes, it isn't a good idea to carry on sporting it. Or, more precisely, wheeling it. I did wonder whether the chap in question was a Doctor Who incarnation. Plenty of Burberry umbrellas in evidence too. Oh, and Mr BW spotted Captain Peacock. The real one.

Having spent almost every first weekend in July at Henley (Regatta) from the age of 15 to 21 (I lived nearby and it's where we hung out - most of them went to eye-up the hunky rowers or their female supporterage, I went to deValue the strawberries), I'm well-used to seeing aging men puffing and panting, humping ridiculous over-crockeried picnic hampers down the banks of the Thames, followed by their be-chiffoned, painted lady wives, teetering in unsuitable footwear. But they didn't have gazebos, collapsible picnic tables with attached benches, folding arcmchairs and cantilever parasols 25 years ago, did they?

Unbelievable. We made do with a small brolly apiece and a Wilkinson's plastic bag to sit on. But then we went to see the show rather than to be seen at the show.

It was a shame that it rained for part of the evening, but it was definitely the time to go to get round and see everything, and get the pick of the choice plants (it's OK, I didn't spend all of the £157), crowd-free, in a few hours. And the closing fireworks were amazing.

We've never done Chelsea and Hampton Court in one year before, so we've never had the direct comparison. The gardens were very different to those at Chelsea - much freer, fluffier planting, lots of grasses and leggy, flowery perennials. Rather like Chelsea 3 or 4 years ago when the term 'Prairie Planting' came into vogue. Several gardens were unfinished (pots showing, or even just standing around, areas of raised bank not backfilled or mulched) - apparently their construction had over-run and their staging teams had been thrown off the site, mid-task, and disqualified, by the judges.

More pics (of the gardens) later, when I've sorted them out and worked out whether my medal predictions were correct (amazingly, they were dishing out the medal cards towards the end of last night's Gala event, which surprised us, as we thought they weren't ever put out until the morning of the first offical day).

Update - Yes! The 1950s Police House won Gold and Best in Show and Tom's Midnight Garden won Gold and Best Small Garden. Happy Witch :)

All the medal results here.

Thought for the day

When we think of 'things,' then we make the reality more concrete than it is. That's why we become stuck. We become stuck in the sameness of reality, because if reality is concrete, obviously I am insignificant. I can not really change it.

- Amit Goswami

Gone fishing

Not getting on very well with solving my little pictorial puzzle, now are we? ;)

Well, today I have withdrawn my tiara from the bank vault, and in a couple of hours will be off to the Hampton Court Palace Flower Show Charity Gala.

What's that?
Not very Value you say?
Has the Witch finally totally lost it during whatever she did while she was absent?

Well... it all started when I could only get half-day tickets for the first day of Chelsea because I left it too late to apply.

To make myself feel better, I decided that we'd go to the preview of Hampton Court. As it's mostly an event at which to be seen and get pissed dahling (populated by the sponsors' chums, largely wearing high heels and unsuitable frocks, and that's just the men), rather than an event for the serious gardener, it should be much easier to see what we want to see, and purchase what we need to purchase. And you don't have to pay extra for the car park on Gala Night. And there's a firework finale. Witchy loves fireworks. Plus, it's for good causes.

Now, I've got to go and work out how to spend the £160 I've saved by taking our own (largely home-grown) picnic rather than pre-ordering the F&M one... Although, I reckon that theirs won't have home-laid quails eggs, home-made mushroom, tarrogan, and brie puff-pastry tart (fresh out of the oven.... ah... damn... *runs downstairs quickly* - phew, caught it just in time, it's always an error to start a blog post when you have something in the oven, isn't it?), home-grown salad (rocket, sorrel, red orache, freckled lettuce, nasturtium flowers, baby spinach leaves, radishes), home-made potato salad with mayonnaise and freshly snipped chives, cherry tomatoes (3 more weeks and they too would have been home-grown), home-made summer pudding with extra-thick double cream, freshly-squeezed orange juice and sparkling water. *Does calculation on fingers* Total cost of that lot, less than £3, including the leftovers for tomorrow.

Actually, it won't take too much working out how to spend the £157 saved, because yesterday we turned our attention to The Coven Long Border. The one that looked OK here, 6 weeks ago, but which suddenly decided to grow some weird and mysterious woody shrub-type suckers from everywhere. Once Mr BW had got them, and a few other past-it 9 year old overgrown shrubs (planted when we made the garden and sadly past their able-to-be-rejuvenated-by-chopping-back points), all out (we decided to do the job properly - they filled one of those 1 tonne plastic hessian bags you get building aggregates in), there wasn't a whole lot left in the border. Given that it's the Annual Nice Ladies Barbecue in just over 3 weeks, not a terribly sensible thing to have done. But hey, Mr BW likes a challenge.

Talking of Mr BW, he should have been having a nice day off today, a leisurely lie-in before facing the mania that is the M25. Instead, he was up at 5.45am, to get a train into London for a meeting with some of the very dahlings who will no doubt be gracing the banks of The Thames with us tonight. You see, Mr BW has just had 'PR and Marketing' (with a million pound budget) added to his portfolio of responsibilities. Having finished clearing out the freebie cupboard (given that the previous encumbent was classic camp gay, there were quite a lot of cute fluffy toys and willie warmers, sporting the company logo, that just had to go), he needed to investigate just how Value the advertising agencies are being.

"No boozing at lunchtime," I said as I kicked him out of the car at 6.25am, and got my nightie caught on the gearstick trying to move over to drive home (yep, I did, I really did, once I'm dressed I wake up, and I needed another couple of hours in bed when I got home). He's assured me that it's not the done thing to drink at lunchtime these days, but I'm not so sure. So, if any of you see Mr BW looking smarter than normal in a dark suit, staggering around central London later on, just point him to Waterloo to get the train to Hampton, will you? Ta.

And... as there are no pics of the show on the net until tomorrow, I could have the very first pictures up, couldn't I? :)
(Then again, as we probably won't be home until 2am, and given that my current ability to stay awake is limited to about 8 hours a day, and that I have a dreadful cold and various other medical problems of a personal nature that you would much rather I didn't go into, maybe not. Still, it was a nice thought while it lasted...)

Thought for the day

Modern materialism strips people of the need to feel responsible.
And often enough, so does religion.

- Dr Jeffrey Satinover

You might prefer this version.