Blue Witch

Worth a listen

Just occasionally I hear a programme that I think is truly excellent. Well presented, memorable, and making frequently misunderstood concepts easy to understand.

One such programme was Radio 4's programme, "In Our Time", which this week was on probability.

Presented by Melvyn Bragg, with first class, intelligent contributors (Marcus du Sautoy, Professor of Mathematics at the University of Oxford; Colva Roney-Dougal, Lecturer in Pure Mathematics at the University of St Andrews; Ian Stewart, Professor of Mathematics at the University of Warwick), and interesting extensions of the subject. I'd like to see this team do the Royal Institution Christmas Lectures.

The blurb reads:

Heads or tails? It’s a simple question with a far from simple answer. One that takes us into the strange and complex world of probability.

Probability is the field of maths relating to random events and, although commonplace now, the idea that you can pluck a piece of maths from the tumbling of dice, the shuffling of cards or the odds in the local lottery is a relatively recent and powerful one. It may start with the toss of a coin but probability reaches into every area of the modern world, from the analysis of society to the decay of an atom.

Listen here (but only until next Wednesday night, so be quick).

Coming soon on BW:

• A Tale of Spooky Colour Coincidence and Heart-Warming Generosity (which I might call: "Middle-Aged, Gifted and Blue");

• A guest post from someone long-term readers will enjoy hearing from again - a clue - they dared to write their last blog post on my Witch Day last year ;)

• Those pictures from Chelsea that I still haven't got round to sorting out;

• Proof that The 'Government' and The Consumer Watchdogs read BW and nick all my ideas to pass off as their own ;)

Now to finish off the new bit of The Coven Grounds, teak oil some more power-washed chairs, and sort out some more of the summer pots before the r-stuff starts falling again.

Friday Question

As part of the Nanny State's waking up to how the education system and general social milieu has disaffected young people in the last few years, some doctor from an A&E Department was yesterday suggesting that kitchen knives shouldn't have sharp points. I've told Mr BW that if The Nanny State so dictate, I am leaving the country. I am sick to death of such stupid ionterference from The State. As I've been saying for years now, all Dear George got wrong was the date.

Truncated kitchen knives will not stop kids stabbing each other.
They will stop many of us cooks going about our lawful business.
I'm sure my chef blog buddy will have a view on this...

Once again Nanny doesn't understand the futility and negative consequences of giving the whole class detention for something that identifiable individuals have done.

Youngsters have no respect for other people because they have no respect for themselves. They are given too much choice before being taught how to make choices, therefore they have no internal guidelines for how to act in certain situations.

For example (and I'm generalising here, but, I hope you get my drift), in days of old, children were asked by their parents whether they wanted x or y for tea/to play with/as a treat etc etc). These days they are more likely to be asked what they would like, full stop. Many children then come out with impossible-to-provide answers, because they've never been taught how to make informed reasonable choices (via a carefully staged model of building up skills) and the parents then have to engage in a dialogue to justify why they can't provide the child's wishes. Because many parents aren't skilled communicators, and because children are children, and because time is ever more in short supply, this often deteriorates and ends in a tantrum. Sometimes from the parent rather than the child. And the parent often gives in, no matter how inconvenient, because it's easier. End result - a child's behaviour is reinforced and s/he learns that it doesn't matter how they behave, they get their way in the end. That bevaviour then generalises to all situations.

A Nice Lady friend told me the other day of a perfect example of this that occurred recently while she was staying with her daughter and son-in-law. In Is1ington (just to be clear ;)). Mum asked Grandchild 1 (just 3) what he wanted for tea. He asked for something the family didn't have in the house. The mum asked the dad to get in the car and go to the supermarket (400 yards down the road) and get what he'd asked for, "As it is important that his choices are respected." Pardon?

I was in the local library last week. I wasn't feeling at all well, but needed to take back some books and order another book on inter-library loan (now free in our county!) using the online system.

At the end of the row of computers where I was sitting were 5 teenagers, in school uniform, swinging on the chairs, feet on the table (and in one case on the keyboard), swigging coke from the same bottle, stabbing each other with pencils, and laughing and shouting at each other. I couldn't hear myself think, and certainly couldn't think straight to use the computer.

Usually I'd have sorted them out myself (and trust me, I'm scary ;)), but, feeling rough, and seeing 2 librarians standing around talking (and not about work), I approached them, and asked whether they felt the youngsters' behaviour was appropriate to the library. The one with 'Senior' on his badge agreed that it wasn't, but said they weren't allowed to do, or say, anything to the kids. I raised my eyebrows and was about to debate this, when his colleague said she'd get the security guard to speak to them. "Security guard?" I queried, flabbergasted. "Oh, yes, we've had a lot of trouble with teenagers coming in here since the town appointed 6 CSOs and 4 council-paid community wardens to wander around, and, after a librarian was threatened our boss decided that full-time security was needed."

The security guard (a bloke of about 70, of slight build) limped across to the teenagers. "'Ere," he croaked, "it's time you lot pushed off!" "Fuck off you old queer!" came the response from the loudest boy. "Yeah, what ya gonna do 'bout it?" said a girl who looked like she would soon be adding to the vast number of schoolgirl mothers already in the town. The security guard shrugged and shuffled off.

"Erm, so that's it?" I exclaimed to the senior librarian. "We can't do anything else, and I could have told you that's what would happen, it happens most days!" he replied. "Well, I have a couple of suggestions," I said. "Take a photo of the kids and send it to the youngsters' headteacher, who is Mr X, and I'm sure he'll do something, or, put up a notice saying only people with valid library cards are admitted to the library, and that you reserve the right to carry out spot checks, which would give you their names and addresses, or the opportunity to make them leave." "No can do, it would infringe their human rights, and the library service has to be accessible to all."

By then I felt so dreadful I just gave him a BW Hard Stare (much worse than a Paddington Hard Stare) shook my head very slowly and walked out. IMHO human rights should only be available to people who are acting like humans.

Another incident reported to me last week occurred on a schoo1 bu5. A first year secondary boy had chi11i powder blown into his eyes by a 15 year old boy from the same school. The 12 year old's GP said that had it not been for the quick-thinking of a girl who'd pushed back the injured boy's head and emptied a bottle of water over his face, it could have been very serious.

The boy's mother rang the school (a different one to the library kids') and was told that they could do nothing as it happened outside school hours. The mum rang the local police and was told that it was a school matter and they weren't prepared to do anything at all. There was a bus full of witnesses, and the attack was totally unprovoked.

I know that *I* wouldn't have been fobbed off so easily were it my child, but some people are less articulate and more intimidated by authority than me. Erm, most people actually ;) (some useful tips from someone of similar belief to me here).

Now, this is allegedly a nice white affluent area with less than zero unemployment, and no real social problems, so I can see how things could be much worse elsewhere.

But how have things deteriorated to this level? And why? And where does it end?

And are things like this happening in your area? Or worse?

Spelling success

I'm currently looking into the whole broadband/homephone thing as prices have changed (fallen on broadband, risen on phone) a lot recently and I'm not convinced my tariffs are still the most Value. A nightmare that is now so complex that it's beyond my processing capacity. But, that's what the provider companies are aiming for I think. MSE's guides are OK, but don't take account of customer service or the cost of phone calls to get it. And the quality of customer service is a big part of Value.

In recent days I've noticed that my connection seems faster than the previous 512kbps top rate here, due to our distance from the exchange. And, sure enough, it tested at 1014 last night. Hurrah! This morning though, something is afoot, and I must be the only Witch in the World with an upload speed faster than the download speed (310kbps download, 545kbps upload). Perhaps they are still playing with it at the exchange or something, or maybe I haven't quite got the spell right yet?

Anyway, today's questions are, who are your providers for broadband, and for landline phone, how much are you paying (and for what service), what's the customer service like, and do you consider it Value? (ie if you want to moan about, or praise, a company, feel free :))

Public Enemy Number One

Lotus must have been doing a damned good marketing job around here because these damn dispensers are now to be found in almost every convenience.

BW Blue they may be, but they are not at all convenient, as they only allow you to dispense one sheet of toilet paper at a time. And who uses just one sheet?

Actually, don't tell me if it's you, because I don't want to think about it, particularly when considered in conjunction with LaP's revelations about post-usage hand-washing practices a couple of weeks ago.

I'm sure they're being sold on a "save the planet / save waste / save money'' ticket, but they are so infuriating that I just pull out loads more sheets than I need to use just to serve the machine right :)

Have they spread to where you are, yet?

Mi1dread

Today is the day of Mi1dred's Annual Medical.

Mr BW (who has been rewarded with an extra day's holiday today in recognition of working very hard and making lots of dosh for his capitalist masters and shareholders - ah, that would be partly us then), has been awake half the night fretting about it, and left home with her before 7.30pm, to drive the 14 miles cross country to the recommended Old Lady Friendly Garage, where he will worriedly look on while they prod poke tick and cross.

I am awaiting a phone call.

Update: Mi1dred is apparently in fine fettle for her age and can continue to terrorise all the young whippersnappers on the road. And me.

Here's Mi1dred being very brave (the ramp nearly wasn't wide enough for her narrow hips):

And here's a picture of Mi1dred's bottom, for those of you who appreciate such things:

We work all night we work all day...

Bank Holidays are for relaxing aren't they?

Erm, not in the BW Covenhold.

Work, work, work.

Even when it pours with rain. Our new DT Chelsea Garden inspired feature has become a pond where Mr BW has dug out the old grass and we're waiting to get (or salvage from existing, if we decide to go for it and make another new bit of border) some more Yorkstone to match the existing to infill.

We're about to chop down the willow seats in front of the compost heaps, as the hazel hurdles behind them decayed and fell apart in fewer than 5 years (not Value), and I have another idea for a new screen that involves live willow, dead willow and some musclepower. And the opportunity to construct a new seat. Not too much digging though as the Ginger Familiar is buried nearby and we don't want to disturb her. Although... a cat skeleton might be a good focal point...

One of my Nice Lady Friends, who has just gone through the most horrendous move that I have ever heard of, dropped by unexpectedly yesterday afternoon. I apologised for the state of Mr BW's socks (huge hole in the heel, as ever). "My husband was just the same," she smiled, "only he worked out that if he put two pairs on each foot, I wouldn't notice the holes!" "Don't give him ideas..." I pleaded.

Back to the grind...

Travel nightmares and spooky coincidences

Yesterday I went on an epic journey 75 miles around the M25 to go on a course that I've been wanting to do for ages, but couldn't find locally. The stupidity of having arranged to go 75 miles around the M25 and back on the Friday before a bank holiday at the beginning of half-term only dawned on me midweek.

These days 75 miles is an epic trip for me. Hard to believe that 20 years ago I used to think nothing of driving 210 miles to university, doing a day's study, spending 3 hours in the library photocopying everything I needed for that week, then driving 210 miles home, before driving 60 miles each way to a demanding full-time inner city placement on the other 4 days of the week. Age. It changes one's perspective.

When I left the course at 4pm, the traffic news was saying there were 40 mile queues on the M25 on the north and west sections. I knew that I wasn't going to make it home if I had to sit in traffic for hours, as I was already very tired.

Luckily my satnav once again earnt its keep, and I had a nice free-running and picturesque journey home via Watford, Elstree, Arnos Grove, and the North Circular beforen picking up the bottom of the M11. The only hold-up was just before the M25 crosses the M11, due to unattended roadworks, and the journey home took 10 minutes more than it had taken me going (2 hours), and was (unbelievably) 8 miles shorter. I saw diesel at £1.32 a litre in Chesham (it goes up 1p or 2p twice a day at present - Mr BW didn't believe me, but did as I said and filled up on the way in to work yesterday, then found it had gone up over 1p per litre on the way home) whereas it is still around £1.26 round here. What a tax cash cow we motorists are to the government, particularly at present. How would the Americans react to gas at over 12 bucks a gallon? Hmmmm.

I looked at doing the journey I had to do by public transport. It would have taken over five hours each way, cost nearly £60, plus a lift to the station at each end and a taxi each way (so well over £100), and, as I had to be there for a 10am start, I'd have had to have an overnight stay too. To do a 75 mile journey!

There were 4 people on the course. It was 75 miles from where we live, but 10 miles from where I grew up.

What is the probability of:

(a) One of the other people currently living 2 miles from where I grew up, and me currently living 2 miles from where she grew up, and her about to move to 5 miles from where we now live?

(b) Another of the people having taught with my mother years ago? [aside, I did chuckle - she mentioned the name of the school she'd last worked at, I remarked my mother had taught there once, she asked my mother's name, I told her, she paused and looked acutely embarrassed, I said, "It's OK, I don't like her either!", she giggled and asked how she was, I replied, "I've no idea, I've not seen her for getting on for 5 years, but I don't expect she's changed!", she said, "You're not like her are you?" I replied, "Thankfully!" and she burst out laughing. Actually, it made my year - possibly even my decade - that comment :)]

(c) The tutor (mid-70s) having gone to the same secondary school as Good Friend BW?

Ah, tis a small world. Something that one forgets at one's peril.

Friday Question

Where has this week gone?

Mr BW was away last weekend with his harem, so I worked all weekend doing work work and correspondence and other important Witchy Finance Things, so I could play this week. But, alas, I seem to have been chasing my tail, and, other than a bit of magic and plenty of pouring oil on troubled waters (none of them mine), and a bit of laying out of hosepipes in curvy shapes ready for The Weekend Garden Redesign Project, here we are again at Friday and I've not even managed to get more than a couple of my multitude of Chelsea pics up. They cometh, but over the next few days...

Now, a bugbear of mine. Many places I go, be they schools, halls, painting, textile or craft class venues, have kettles, and supplies of tea, coffee and the other necessaries for making drinks on demand throughout the time one is there.

I seem to be in a minority of almost one because, if I find the kettle under half full, when I've poured from it, I fill it up and switch it to reboil, so it is ready for the next person. If I use the last of the water, I cannot just walk away and pretend I haven't used it up, I have to refill it.

However, practically every time *I* go to make a drink, I find the kettle empty, and have to then fill it and wait ages while it boils. Sometimes I put it on, walk away and get on with whatever I'm doing, leaving a teabag in a mug ready to fill when the kettle finally boils, and then find, when I stop being engrossed and go back, other people have emptied the kettle I put on, and not even had the decency to fill my waiting mug!

I know that some offices and schools have automatic water boilers these days (and that some don't allow kettles at all), so this may not apply to you (if so, think back to a time when there was a kettle), but, the Friday Question this week is: are you a kettle filler or a kettle emptier?

Go on, be honest... :)

Chelsea 2008

Yes, I think those curves will do nicely for our new re-design project (see yesterday's post). Definitely my (I think our) favourite large show garden this Daily Telegraph one.

After last year's posturing by one Mr Titmarsh that raised considerable comment, readers will be pleased to know that this year he appeared to either be the diasabled toilets, or have a new job holding the sign to same, depending on your point of view:


And he was waiting outside the Bullring Entrance for his car when we walked past him at 7.30pm. Proving that the BBC coverage of an evening isn't live.

Rachel de Thame's garden was our favourite courtyard garden, and we couldn't see why she only got a silver for it. She woz robbed.

More pics later because I have some magic to do now. In nines.

If it's May, then...

Grow grow grow.

Weed weed weed.

Grow grow grow.

Sow sow sow.

Grow grow grow.

Plant plant plant.

Grow grow grow.

Mow mow mow.

Grow grow grow.

Chop chop chop.

Grow grow grow.

Weed weed weed.

Grow grow grow.

Chelsea Chelsea Chelsea.

We're off out soon. We only go for the afternoon these days, which is just as well given how I'm feeling energy-wise in general at the moment. The early TV coverage (and I always feel that the quantity of it in one week of a year just about evens up the quantity of football coverage I'm not interested in for the rest of the year) suggests that this year's themes are 'simplification' and 'green'. Looks like we're unintentionally in vogue again :) I need some inspiration for a section of The Coven Grounds right up near the house that has to be redesigned, rebuilt and replanted in the next 4 weeks and 1 day before 50 Nice Ladies arrive... I have an idea (based on the curves in this one), but it needs some developing.

Null points for the RHS who have posted the medal winners as 6 separate pdf's, listed just by sponsor, without the designers' names or the gardens' names (a sign of the commercial times methinks... where the money's come from should be the least important part!), and mis-spelt 'awards' as 'awars' on the home page. The BBC web coverage is much better. It really is time the RHS sorted their web presence out (and that includes their online ticket purchasing, which is dire as I have already told them, both last year and this year).

I may even like the Best In Show this year, for a change: Tom Stuart-Smith's Laurent-Perrier Garden.

Thought for the day

Do the hard jobs first. The easy jobs will take care of themselves.

- Dale Carnegie

Thought for the day

Is the panic over children's well-being in the UK a mask for adults' alarm at the type of world/society we have created?

- Robin Alexander

Plastic bag nonsense

I half-heard something on BBC TV News early this morning that suggested that *finally* some government think-tank is coming round to my way of thinking (ha, my spell is working!).

They agree that all this current emphasis on plastic bags is simply the supermarkets absolving themselves of, and displacing, responsibility for their poor packaging decisions onto the consumer.

As I keep saying, plastic carrier bags are a tiny, tiny proportion of the bulk of unnecessary packaging materials used in the retail and food industries. And, from a consumer's point of view, probably the most useful part of all of it. So, from a consumer's point of view, the most inconvenient place to begin targeting reductionary measures.

What is more, before this current major guilt-trip created by the media, the majority of plastic carrier bags were reused at least once before being disposed of - again, many of them in appropriate plastic recycling bins. By contrast, most people don't reuse plastic trays and tubs, or plastic drink bottles. And you can make tens of carrier bags out of the amount of plastic in each of them. Even *I* (Queen of Re-Use) can't find a use for the brittle plastic overwrapping that I am obliged to accept on some items.

Cleaner BW, who also works part-time as a supervisor in a local supermarket, told me this week that their sales of plastic bin liners have gone up eight-fold since the big push on making customers use recyclable bags began. *sighs*

I wonder how many millions of pounds the food giants have saved by not having to provide so many plastic carrier bags? Judging by recent profit announcements, that saving isn't being passed onto their customers, is it?

The newish EU regulations on responsibility for disposal of manufactured items at the end of their useful lives mean that one can legally take one's packaging back to the supermarket who supplied it, for disposal. Indeed, the Nice Ladies in many areas did so on one day a couple of years ago. But, I have a strong suspicion that anyone who did so on a regular basis would likely be banned by that particular supermarket, for some made-up reason.

It amuses me that all the most vocal people I know about the plastic bag debate either drive huge great people-killers or sports-car gas-guzzlers, or don't think too hard about the packaging of products they buy. We even had a little example in the comments yesterday ;)

It really is time that the focus for solving the packaging problem is put firmly and squarely where it should be. On the supermarkets. NOT on the consumer. Oh, silly me. With T£$co's in bed with the Nanny State (eg remember the clubcard profile information sharing a few weeks ago), that's not going to happen any time soon - or rather, any time sooner than it absolutely has to.

Sorry, I can't find a link anywhere yet - the BBC Breakfast page isn't updated on a Saturday.

Friday Question

The real question for me this week has been - how can things go so wrong in an NHS hospital structure that someone finds out that they are now termina11y i11 through reading it on the top of a form entitled, "Gr@nts available to termina11y i11 p@tients," attached to the top of their hospital records handed to them by an admin assistant? Which then leads to, what the hell do you write in a card you want to send to said person? Rarely someone to be stumped for words, that was hard.

However, as I'm fairly sure that such a Friday Question would meet with a null response, I offer you instead one from Mr Blue Hat salvaged from last week's suggestions:

Do you squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom or the middle? And, if you squeeze from the bottom, how annoyed are you with a person who squeezes from the middle?

Me, I'm a bottom squeezer, and I haven't the energy to waste on being annoyed with those who squeeze otherwise, I just get on and sort the mess out. Actually, I wonder if toothpaste squeezing habits are a metaphor for one's approach to life...

It's official

The world has gone mad.

I went to the bank to change some £50 notes into £20s as it's hard finding shops who will take £50s due to concerns about forgery.

There is apparently some new anti-money-laundering regulation that if you want to change £200 or more into smaller notes, you have to give your name and address, which is then passed to the Bank of England.

Now, if I were wanting to money-launder, I wouldn't be taking my £400 in £50s to a bank to be changed down, now would I?

This is in the same league of stupidity as not being able to buy more than 2 packs of 16 paracetemol at a time in any place in case you have suicidal tendencies.

In both cases there's nothing to stop you doing the transaction in the 'allowable' quantities in different establishments. These stupid 'rules' do nothing to solve the real issues, they just inconvenience people.

I hate what this country is becoming, I really do.

Oh, and summer's over. As I predicted. Nice weather for ducks...

It's turned so cold I've just lit one of the woodburners again. I finally had to give in to the Middle East and buy some more oil. 54.5 pence (plus VAT) per litre - and that took 5 phone calls to track down. One place wanted 60.1 ppl! Delivered at twenty to 8 this morning it was. I should, of course, have paid with my £50 notes. Only I'd have needed nearly £200 more... gone forever, undoubtedly, are the days when we could fill the 2500 litre tank for £250.

It's unsurprising that theft from oil tanks is the fastest growing crime in rural areas. I'm told that the thieves follow the oil tankers around to see where they are delivering and then strike within a couple of days. If you lock your oil tank, the thieves simply drill holes in the bottom, so you've then lost the oil and also have to buy a new tank. And apparently no household insurance covers you for stolen oil. They're in for a shock if they try to steal ours :)

Garden News

Very busy weekend doing lots of Coven Grounds work, even though it's been up to 40 degrees, if one believes the thermometer on the wall, or 31.4 degrees if one believes the weather station's temperature probe in the shade.

Mr BW has been sorting all the veg out - sowing, repotting, planting out, moving in, and give or take a few large tomato plants I now have The Studio back from the green jungle I showed you last week.

Having moved the hens off The Coven Lawn back up into The Orchard, at stupid o'clock on Sunday morning - if we don't pick them out of the hen house while they are still asleep we end up spending hours chasing them around - we're having a bit of a redesign. I felt that some simplification of the existing format was needed as everything was gettting a bit too cluttered.

There's a thin line between 'quirky' and 'kitsch' and we were getting a bit nearer to the latter than felt comfortable. I also wanted to get more things out of pots and into the ground, because I'm no longer able to lug watering cans and they'll be announcing a hosepipe ban again in the south next week no doubt (there's no shortage of water in this country, just poor distribution and a lack of willingness of 'government' to understand that we can't have 11 million new homes built in the south in the next decade without some thought being given to basic infrastructure, like major water pipes from the extreme north and west to the south and east, but, I digress).

One tree (my favourite small tree - a weeping pear) died last autumn and was removed and chopped and chipped (woodburner/compost: waste not want not), leaving an outline brick circle with a paved front, and the old almond tree was getting old and spindly, with leaves only on the end of long long branches which looked untidy. But, we couldn't sacrifice that immediately as it has a wooden seat built around it which we don't want to lose.

So, we chopped the almond tree branches hard back, in the hope that it might rejuvenate, but still leaving a frame for the existing clematises (if that's the plural of clematis?) to scramble over, which immediately changed how everything looked, and started thinking about how we could re-jig the rest.

So far we've decided to use the space where the weeping pear was as the Citrus Grove this summer, and have repotted two existing olive trees that have grown from the '£2.99 twig from Wilkinson's size' from old galvanised pails into two huge pale terracotta pots in a colour that matches the paved front of the brick circle.

I then decided that the garden furniture was just too covered in black goo and green powder to be safe to sit on. In the past I have washed and scrubbed with a stiff brush before re-oiling, but it was well beyond that, and so am I. So, having finished cleaning out the hen houses before they were moved, I turned the power washer on it.

Which, as hopefully you can see, was highly successful. Weathered chair on the left, power washed chair in the middle, washed and teak oiled table on the right.

For years I've said that a power washer would solve many of our problems (cleaning livestock houses, cleaning soffits, cleaning windows, cleaning paved areas, cleaning hardstanding for animal pens), but Mr BW has always been doubtful. I did nothing to further my cause when I borrowed one from a friend three or four years ago, and it proved totally not up to the sort of usage we would give it. In fact, it stopped functioning while we were using it, so it was just as well it was still under guarantee. What I didn't fully appreciate at the time was that power washers come in different powers, with different price tags attached.

A few weeks back they had an extremely powerful beast in the Aldi Sunday Specials - the sort that is normally around the £250 mark in the DIY sheds - for £79. With a 3-year guarantee. And it's brilliant. It lifts muck off anything. It uses a fraction of the water that doing things with a broom and normal hose does, and a fraction of the time or effort. Very Value.

I reckon you could probably blast unsound/flaking paint off wood with it. Well, that's what I'm hoping as 7 or 8 years ago now, Good Friend BW donated a very old teak garden bench to me that was white gloss painted, with two hundred coats of white gloss (some containing lead no doubt), and no amount of scraping and nitromors has removed all of it, despite another effort each spring when the winter has attacked the remnants. It will be lovely to have it returned to its former glory.

Right, back to some more contemplation of the redesign. The Studio Balcony is a very useful aerial vantage point - oh, by the way, those irises up the top are currently residing there. The stained glass panel in with them is another of Mr BW's crafty creations.

Natural wonders

Our captive breeding programme has been successful.

3 D'Oves locked in the ex-quail cage, to save them after the nasty sparrowhawk dropped by several times, have made 2 progeny. Not quite sure which are the mummy/ies and which the daddy/ies, but...

One tiny hatched one, just minutes old when Mr BW happened to sneak a peek, and one egg breaking open. A D'Ove egg is about a quarter of the mass of a hen egg, and I was amazed at how small this little one is (this picture is easily more than twice life-size). Within a day or so it will be 10 times this size:

Competing with the Magic of Nature, mid-week I magicked up another in the cushion cover series.

This (colours inspired by this very verdant time of year):

With a wave of my wand and my rotary cutter, became this:

Our large thermometer on a west facing external wall hit 37 degrees yesterday. Body temperature. I'm making the most of summer while she lasts.

Friday Question

I've misplaced my list of Friday Questions.

I have to write them down when I think of them, you see, or it gets to Friday and I have mindus blankus.

Given the current state of The Inner Coven, it is unsurprising that I've misplaced the list, actually. Just as soon as I have chucked this lot (*nods to pictures left and right, which are back and front of the same stack*) out of The Studio (yes, the cucumbers and tomatoes and some of the courgettes do already have flowers, and even small fruit, but it's been too cold until this week to empty the fuchsias and grown-on plug-plants for summer tubs out of the 2 greenhouses so that this lot can be planted out in their place (this weekend), so they've been a bit in the way) I might be able to do some sorting spells. Possibly.
... And no Mr BW, thank you, we do not need you telling them that it has actually now been like this for 2 years, since we had to empty The Coven Attic into The Inner Coven so the bui1ders could make The Additional Greenhouse for early spring use Studio :) At least my Witchy Mess is confined to one room.

Perhaps you have Friday Questions that you think should be asked in future?

(NB Following a huge spam attack a couple of weeks ago, the comments are still recuperating - if you get a 'Page not found' don't worry, your comment almost certainly has been noted and will be there if you close the page, wait a few seconds, then reopen it again. Thanks to those who've emailed to let me know and apologies for the temporary annoyance.)

Wednesday

Being suspicious that this current good weather (our outside thermometer measured over 30 degrees yesterday and the day before) could be the summer this year, as happened last year, I am going to switch off my computer and go and do something more interesting instead. If the giant tadpole doesn't eat me first.

Bank Holiday Surrealism

Yesterday it was very sunny.

We went on a 115 mile epic voyage in Mi1dred.

Some of Mi1dred's other classic friends went too.

They were all younger than her.

But everytime we stopped, people looked at her most.

We went down some leafy lanes with grass in the centre of them that we didn't know about.
Even though they were only about 2 miles from The Coven.

They don't seem to be on a latest edition 1:25,000 OS map.

Or on the edition before.

We went on a motorway too.

Mi1dred was scared.

But not as scared as Mr BW.

Even caravans passed Mi1dred.

I shouted, "Poo bag!" at a dog owner with a crappy dog who wasn't using one.

We kept seeing piles of clothes by the sides of roads.

Then we went to see a Nice Lady who gave us tadpoles and a black sheep's f1eece.

One of the big tadpoles ate one of the little tadpoles for tea.

The f1eece was nice and soft.

And had enjoyed its afternoon in the sun on a candlewick bedspread on the Nice Lady's lawn.

We had tea with the Nice Lady and her husband.

The End.

We'll keep the Blue flag flying here :)

I do like the Blueness of the national electoral map. Not that it represents my political stance (I hate them all equally, Vive the BW Party! Good grief, I've just found it was over 3 years ago that I last published any of my Manifesto - click and then scroll down to April 22nd and previous for all 14 parts!), but the Blue is pleasing to me.

We didn't have elections here, but I'm still reeling from the shock of H@rlow (where I once worked) going Blue. Must have been a 15 year old spell finally coming to fruition. That place really is the pits of the earth.

Mr BW has just come home and reported that R2 news is saying that some bookies are paying out on Boris. Given that bookies aren't known for generosity, I'd say that changes are afoot for London.

I'm undecided about whether it will be a good thing. Once an ardent Ken fan (I was a student in London in the 80s in the early days of his London career), I think he (and his cronies) has (have) become very arrogant and dogmatic in his old age. Yes, a lot has been achieved, but there have been a lot of bad decisions, noses in troughs and money wasted or mis-spent in recent years too.

Do you think Boris will get a makeover like Margaret Thatcher did when she came to power? I've just discovered that he's younger than me. And he's got dual nationality. Fascinating. But not so much that I sought to read it before now.

And I want to know how counting a few ballot papers is taking so much longer than expected (latest estimate for results, 10pm). Are they allowing the vote counters to use their mobile phones or something? The hours in every working day in this country that must be wasted on trivial and inconsequential text messaging.

Ah... wait... news just in - one of the counting machines has broken down... A sign of things to come? Or a way of delaying the result so Ken can clear his stuff out of City Hall? Probably not for as long as they did in Zimbabwe though.

Friday Question

Tempting though it is to ask you to respond to Harriet Harman's, ""What we've got to do is be more focused on listening to people and more in touch!" assertion on R4 this morning, and happy as I may be that Golden Brown has been proved to have screwed things up more than Bliar (who must be laughing like a drain today - where does that expression come from?), I think there's more than enough coverage of that issue already. So let's have some trivia instead.

What gadget or device that you use regularly could benefit from modification to make it more user friendly?

I'm voting for those pound coin gadgets on the front of supermarket trolleys. The ones that are meant to ensure you return trolleys in a neat and orderly way. They constantly jam and the dangling chain bits are always getting caught up in the bars of other trolleys. There must be a better way.

Business Culture

Just picking up and elevating a comment from the post below about last night's Apprentice, Dave (have you guessed the name of his baby-to-be yet?) said,

It always amazes me that these, apparently bright, savvy business people can come up with such stupid ideas and make such stupid decisions.

To which I replied,

Do you think they are? I think they're a bunch of nasty scheming wannabes, who haven't a hope in hell of making it any other way.

Would you want to work for, or even with, any of them?

I have to admit that I only half-watch the programme if I happen to be in the room when Mr BW has it on as I have absolutely no respect for how Alan Sugar speaks to people. Bullies and people in positions of 'power' who belittle and treat others the way he does are, I believe, responsible for more unhappiness and sick days in this country than anything else.

Having such a high profile programme on prime time BBC TV, with such characters, just encourages people to think that the only way to be successful is to bully and back-stab, so perpetuating a sick culture of management.

But what are the characteristics of a good boss?

And a bad boss?

May 1st

How did it get to May Day already? And isn't it cold for the time of year?

I turned the central heating off at the beginning of April (probably 3 weeks earlier than normal) when the price of a litre of heating oil went above 50p for the first time. I just refuse to pay that much, so we need to conserve what we have left in the tank. The Middle East holds the rest of the world to ransom methinks. And more to come as the Far East follows suit when it sells us back (at vast cost) all the skills we have outsourced to there and so lost from our own population.

Luckily we have an Aga that provides background warmth throughout the house, as well as providing cooking, drying and some of the hot water (which in turn heats a towel rail heat-leak that keeps the chill off the main bathroom), and two woodburners, one in the lounge (downstairs) and one in the Studio (upstairs), and we still have a huge pile of Jenga blocks recycled from the extension 2 years ago, so heating (when necessary) is free. So we haven't been cold, although it is cold.