The White Horse, Cilcain.

When I was a child my father used to take me (and later me and my brother) walking in the hills of North Wales. One of our favourites was Moel Fammau (of which I have blogged previously including this one). We often ended our walk at Cilcain. Later in life I used to drive there for lunch with friends or for an evening out. When I was staying with CJ and his Partner Who Loves Tea we went to North Wales one day and stopped at The White Horse for lunch. It had hardly altered since my last visit perhaps 30 years ago although I don't recall tables out at the front in those days.

The Apostrophe

One of CJ's favourite places for breakfast in Heswall near where he lives is a rather lovely café which calls itself Isabelles (sic).  We went there for breakfast when I was staying with him a few weeks ago.

Last time we went there was last year and I got into trouble for inserting an apostrophe on the place mats:

Under strict instructions not to disgrace myself this time I'm afraid that I was unable to resist.  They didn't throw me out.

A Car's a Car For A' That

(With apologies to Robert Burns).

I’m sure it’s not that I just can’t forgive myself for parting from my beloved Nighthawk. I’m sure that I’m sure - surely.

I just haven't become close to the Volvo yet. Why on earth would that matter? It’s a car for heaven’s sake not a friend. However I spend more time with it than I do with almost any other thing with which I have a relationship except my home.

My first Volvo was, in fact, called VOOVO. The car had been incorrectly badged on the bonnet (hood) because the letters were, as on my current car's boot (trunk) separately attached. That car was made in 1965 and I’m sure no such thing could happen now. We were together for 80,000 glorious miles. I’ve had two more Volvos since that time. Each served me well.

Voovo on Honister, English Lake District,  c 1970 with my Dad

I want to get close to Volvo. I really do. It’s a very comfy means of transportation and we’ve already done 4,000 miles together in two months.

One problem is that the salesman (in the London dealer from whence the car was sourced) and I really didn’t get on. I never met him but I know that if I had I’d not have bought a car from him.

The other is that the car was beset by vibration squeaks and rattles from the dashboard area. The technician (mechanic to people of my age but now he probably has a degree in applied electronics) at the superbly helpful Volvo dealer Taggarts in Glasgow  sorted the first one I identified in the sensor housing on the windscreen which had obviously been removed at some time but that still left some more in the floating centre console. I never had a squeak from the Nighthawk in 13 years (except one of my own making). I seem now to have managed to cure them all but I am still living with the fear that they may return.

Hopefully in a while I'll feel comfortable and Volvo and she will develop a personality and acquire a name.

Volvo below The Clisham on Harris

Volvo by the Forth and Clyde Canal

Harris Hawk and Peregrine Falcon

Last year CJ and I visited the Chester Cathedral Falconry. We thoroughly enjoyed it and got some good photos and, of course blogged about it. CJ blogged about it here and here.

We visited it again this year and I think I managed to improve on my photos:

Harris Hawk

Harris Hawk

Harris Hawk

Perigrine Falcon

Peregrine Falcon

Grounded having taken the lure

Harris Hawk

I Asked The Zebra

I cannot recall where I first saw this but it was on a blog a long time ago. I came across it the other day when looking for something amongst my papers. I though I'd share it.

 

“I asked the Zebra,

are you black with white stripes?

Or white with black stripes?

And the zebra asked me,

Are you good with bad habits?

Or are you bad with good habits?

Are you noisy with quiet times?

Or are you quiet with noisy times?

Are you happy with some sad days?

Or are you sad with some happy days?

Are you neat with some sloppy ways?

Or are you sloppy with some neat ways?

And on and on and on and on and on and on he went.

I’ll never ask a zebra about stripes...again.”

~Shel Silverstein~

BT (British Telecom)

Warning: This post contains what might be considered a boring rant. 

Yet again I received a missive from BT after I arrived home from holiday. It is not the first such missive so I didn't get my hopes up too high. Which was just as well. 

After having jumped through the hoops that BT has managed to created when one does log in to bt.com/upgrade-now I discovered that for over twice the price that I am now paying I could have ......... wait for it ....... The speed I'm getting now (when I'm actually getting that speed)  which is between 1 and 2.5 Mbps. 2.5 not even 25. That's an improvement because last time I complained that my speed was down at between 0 and .5 Mbps when they tested it they got .9 Mbps and told me that that was all they were contracted to provide.

Now despite Jeremy Vine (who on his BBC fee alone can doubtless afford high-speed satellite broadband wherever he lives and it will doubtless be a tax-deductible necessity for his work anyway) uttering the inanity that people in the country live there 'because they want to get away from broadband and things'  life today relies in so many ways on having access to the internet. 

As we get older and the more remotely we live the more communication ability we require not just to keep in touch with people (which is a very important part of our physical and mental health and for which Skype and Facetime and the like are a real blessing) but for our everyday requirements even in dealing with the government where almost everything is now done on line.

Interestingly since I wrote this I decided to have another go at the upgrading procedure:

Now I don't know about you but my gut reaction is that 'Up to 17Mbps' may be strictly accurate but is totally misleading in that 3.5 (my previous offer said 2.5 which is the maximum that I can get and even then it tails away a lot) is nowhere near that. I should add that a engineer for BT Openreach said that I should get 8Mbps with no problems. However the line between the Green Box (where the fibre goes up to) at the top of the village about 750 metres away from the house is probably in a poor state of repair except for about 100 metres where it has  been renewed when my phone went off.

How do the rest of you fare and is anyone else still with BT? I've been with them since I bought my first house. I understand alternatives are now available here but until quite recently Sky and others refused even to countenance provision to my number.

Interestingly today I have discovered that my next door neighbour is eligible for fibre broadband.

Let battle commence.

Chester

I love Chester. I always have. It means a great deal to me. Most years my brother, CJ, and I go there. It's only a half hour drive from his home on The Wirral. This year was no exception. 

Chester is a very old walled city famous for its Rows - first floor level shops and houses.

The Rows and a staircase up to them.

I like people who smile whatever the weather

I can remember when traffic drove through the centre of the city. Now it's all pedestrianised and much the better for it.

This was at the entrance of the Cathedral. No explanation. Totally bizarre.

This colonnade of shops comprisisng St Werburgh Row

And a licensed TukTuk which was not what I was expecting in Chester

The Thinker

I've titled this 'The Thinker'. It was taken at Brunch where CJ and I sometimes have our coffee and a bacon roll. CJ wasn't sleeping. We were having problems with the last crossword clue. We spend a lot of time doing crosswords with our coffee.

I'm home. In fact I've been home since Friday evening. CJ and I arrived after a week's journeying from his home on The Wirral, via his daughter, son-in-law and grand-daughter in Exeter, thence to the Lake District, Anna's in Bishopbriggs (Glasgow) for a couple of nights and a night almost on Skye. 

Since then we've been catching up with some relaxation, coffees and crosswords at The Woodlands and I've nearly filled a wheelie bin with weeds from the garden. 

Before all that I spent some time in Glasgow and then a week with CJ and Jo when we went into Wales and Chester.

Three weeks. Such a long time. Such a short time.

However I'm hoping to be back in Blogland more now that the dust has settled. After all there's certainly plenty to write about as well as catching up with your blogs.

The Fisherman's Cot, Devon

Rarely do I blog specifically about a hotel in which I have stayed but this is a very notable exception. I first experienced The Fisherman's Cot in Devon some years ago and would not have thought it exceptional. Now, however, it is exceptional in many ways: the setting, the accommodation, the ambience, the value for money and, above all, the service. It is a long time since I have experienced a place with so many staff and not managed to find even one who did not appear to be happy and who was not exceptionally pleasant and good at his or her job. I would actually come this far south just to stay here again (and I have never said that before!).

The hotel is on the River Exe and for those who are interested there is plenty of wildlife on the river at the hotel including heron, egrets (which I have only seen in France), dippers and otters. 

Apparently a dozen people one morning were watching an otter with lots of rapt oohs and ahs. Then a duck with six chicks came along and left with only five: the otter having breakfasted on the unfortunate one. The otter went from hero to zero instantly. C'est la vie.

Travelling: The Scottish Borders

I have so many things to blog about I don't know where to start. I wish that I was organised like YP or Cro who manage to blog almost every day regardless of distractions. So far, since I left home, I've spent 4 nights near Glasgow, 3 nights in the Scottish Borders and this will be my fourth night on The Wirral before my brother (CJ) and I go to Exeter for three nights. Then we embark on a long journey back to Lewis where we should arrive five days later. 

I have gathered enough material for dozens of blogs but I'll try and get a few posted before I get home.

After a few days with a pal near Glasgow, I spent some time in the Scottish Borders with friends whom I was surprised to realise that I've known for 35 years (where do the years go?).

We set out to walk round the paddock and ended up starting to walk to England (which, I was assured, was just half a mile along the line of the old Waverley railway). Well after a mile and half I decided to check the map on my iPhone. Hmmm. England was still a good distance away so we turned around and walked back. An enjoyable walk it was too (but very cloudy, wet and green).  

Sue striding forth  (Brian and I following but you can't see us!):

Not far now!

I did meet some Blue Grey Cattle. The first I'd ever seen. They have a reputation for being unfriendly. I got that impression just from looking at them looking at me.