LET US PREY

The school holidays are now over and Troy Junior is back at school. This summer seems to have flown by. Well that's my excuse for not having posted anything since 31st July. I'm wondering how many of my "27 Followers" are sticking by me through this thin posting season? If you do call by, please leave a comment, even if it is just "Hello". It would be nice to know you are still there!

At the start of the school holidays (Summer, Christmas and Easter) I produce a grid on A4 paper with the days across the top and the weeks down the side. Into this grid we then fill in trips away, planned days out and other organised events to ensure Troy Junior is adequately entertained through the holiday period. So much so, that he actually then enjoys his "rest days" when we just laze around at home. At the end of this holiday I asked him if was looking forward to going back to school. He responded "Yes". When asked why he explained succinctly "I need an education". There is no arguing with that, is there?

On the last day of the holiday, Troy Junior and I visited the local Owl Sanctuary. In some ways its a bit misnamed as they have many birds of prey and red squirrels, as well as their rescued owls.I guess it has evolved from its original purpose to become more of an attraction. We had a thoroughly enjoyable time there. The highlight is the flying display.

These birds are very photogenic. Here are a few photos I took during the day.

First an owl which had been raised from a young chick at the sanctuary.



Here's an eagle. They are quite magnificent birds.



And a Red Kite in flight.



This bird actually flew straight over my head several times, missing it by what seemed like inches. However I was too busy ducking and so missed getting what could have been a brilliant photo.

It was also interesting to see the red squirrels. For those that don't know, (let's call you "foreign readers"), the small red squirrel was the native British squirrel but when the larger grey squirrel was introduced into the UK it overran the native species who now only have very few colonies left. At the sanctuary, the red squirrels were in a large caged run but fortunately the cage wire doesn't really show on the pictures I took.

Here's a red squirrel enjoying a snack.



Hopefully I'll be back again with another posting much sooner than last time. Stay tuned!

A LIBERATING EXPERIENCE

I've just realised that it is over four weeks since I last posted here so before July is out, I must do a posting to tell you about our recent trip to France. My father and I have recently had a most enjoyable few days over in Normandy. For more recent readers, I should explain that my father home cares for my elderly mother who has advanced Alzheimers. Ever three months, he has a one week respite break and my sister or I take him away for a few days. He's been to Falmouth and Florida with my sister and to Northumberland (twice) and Hong Kong with me.

This year, he didn't fancy a either long car journey or the hassle of airports so I looked in to local ferry trips from Poole, close to where he lives. We settled on the Poole to Cherbourg ferry trip which is only two and a half hours by the fast (38knots)ferry. The only downside was that it leaves at 7.15am so we were up and out of the house just after 5am! Taking the car on the ferry was simplicity itself and by 11am french time we were heading east from Cherbourg on the local coast road. We took the MGF and toured with the roof down throughout our travels.

Our first port of call was Barfleur from where William The Conquerer set sail for England in 1066. It has a delightful fishing harbour. (If you click on the photos you should get enlarged images).


We then called in at St Vaast-la-Hougue which has an enormous marina before heading down to Port-en-Bessin, central to all the D-day landing beaches, where we had booked five night's accommodation. Port-en-Bessin is a delightful village with an active fishing fleet, harbour and many seafood restaurants. In the picture below you can see the outer harbour but the port itself goes inland beyond the very far right of the photo. The hotel we stayed at is on the far right of the photo and overlooked the fishing quay where the boats unloaded their catches each day.


During our five night stay we visited most of the D-day landing beaches. The next photo shows Arromanches-les-Bains and Gold Beach where British trops landed on 6th June 1944. We (the British troops, not us) actually built an artificial harbour and its remnants can be seen in the photo.


There is a great museum in the town with an excellent guided tour. The tour guide spoke excellent english but with a very pronounced french accent. My father listened for over two minutes thinking the man was speaking french and being surprised how many words were similar in both languages. Then it dawned on him that the man was actually speaking english! "Ze sup-lies were brrrought in-too ze arbour and off-luuded". Once tuned in, he was actually a very articulate and knowledgeable guide.

A few miles inland is the town of Bayeux with its beautiful gothic cathedral and the world famous Bayeux Tapestry. To be honest, I only went to the tapestry because my father was interested, but it is truly fascinating. 70 metres (230 feet) long and full of marvellous details. In 58 scenes it tells of William's conquest of England in 1066. It is amazing to think that this fragile linen has survived over a thousand years whilst buildings have crumbled and disappeared. The centre of the town, around the cathedral is full of old buildings that survived the war. Here is the cathedral.


On the outskirts of Bayeux is the British Cemetery with over 4,800 graves of British soldiers killed in the liberation of Normandy in 1944. It is a poignant sight - row upon row of white headstones. And the ages of dead - 19, 24, 22 etc. All young men buried in a foreign field away from home. This photo shows only a small part of the cemetery.


Here's another view with my father looking at the monument.


Apparently, the film "Saving Private Ryan" gives the impression that only US troops were involved in the liberation of France. This blog isn't so crassly nationalistic. During our visit we saw Utah and Omaha beaches where US troops landed and Pointe du Hoc where US Rangers stormed 90 foot cliffs under heavy fire. And Juno beach which was taken by Canadian forces with Poles, Dutch and Czech soldiers also involved. No one individual army could have overcome the german fortifications along the "Atlantic Wall", it was truly an full Allied effort. Here is the US "Omaha" beach.


Everywhere along the coast there are Union flags, US stars and stripes and the Canadian maple leaf flying in the breeze. The locals welcome their liberators warmly.


Sitting in a restaurant on Friday evening we saw a poster advertising the UEFA Under19 football tournament in Normandy. I went online later and discovered that France were playing 'Angleterre' the next day in Saint-Lo so we even managed to take in an international football game during our brief visit!

All too soon, our five days had flown by and it time to head back to England. I can thoroughly recommend Normandy for a short vacation. Lovely scenery, gorgeous beaches, excellent museums and a special history are to be discovered only a short journey away from the UK's south coast. The roads are quiet, the parking is free everywhere (a refreshing change from the UK!) and the food excellent.

YOUR NEW EGG BUYING GUIDE

In London you can pick up the Sunday newspapers from about 10pm on a Saturday evening. However with the internet now you can read those same Sunday newspaper articles from about the same time on a Saturday from the comfort of your house out in the sticks. That's what I did yesterday. I logged onto the Daily Mail website and thought it was April Fool's Day. The headline that greeted me was "EU To Ban Selling Eggs By The Dozen". Here's the link - unbelievable - so you can tell that I'm not making this up.

So the EU (or the Evil Empire as I prefer to call it) is now telling shopkeepers and I assume also direct farm sellers that their eggs must now all be weighed and then sold by weight not by numbers. Do you know how much an egg weighs? Well no one in the Troy family did either, in fact Mrs Troy has never mastered non-Imperial weights at all. So I got out my precious metal digital weighing scales, changed Troy ounces (well they have to be named after someone!) to grams and put a medium sized egg on the scales. Ladies and Gentlemen, a medium sized egg weighs 65.4gm.


So how good is your mental arithmetic. Suppose you want to buy six eggs - what would you now ask for? In true Monty Python style your conversation may go...

You : "Good morning, dear shopkeeper, I'd like 392.4gm of eggs please".

Shopkeeper : "Sorry Sir [or Madam], this is a cheese shop".

For those not too adept at mental arithmetic what you have just done above is attempt to buy six eggs from a specialist cheese shop.

You probably think I'm being silly. You wouldn't ask for such an odd amount of weight down to one decimal point now would you? Instead the conversation would probably go something like this...

You : "Is this an egg shop?" [good, you're not getting caught twice]

Shopkeeper : "Yes Sir [or Madam], we sell only the finest eggs. Didn't you notice our Royal Warrant?. We sell eggs to the Prince Of Wales".

You : "Excellent! If they are good enough for Charles and Camilla, they are good enough for me! I'd like half a kilo of eggs please".

Shopkeeper : "No problem Sir [or Madam]...(counts) one, two, three, four, five, six, seven (pauses then mutters under his breath - "err, four hundred and fifty seven point eight grams"), "You did say half a kilo?"

You : "Oh yes please!"

Shopkeeper : (egg cracking sound) "And this (picks up part of shell containing some yolk and some egg white) makes its exactly half a kilo. I'll put the seven whole ones in a bag but you'll need to carry the broken one home carefully".

You : "That's fine, I've still got nearly half an egg back at home from the last time I purchased eggs, so this will just make up the eight eggs I need for my baking".

The European Union has come up plenty of stupid schemes in its time but this surely is one of the most ludicrous. Early this morning we took Troy Junior along to his Sunday morning cricket practice and I asked several of the parents there if they'd seen the article about eggs having to be sold by weight not by number. All, without exception, thought I was pulling their leg.

The English are an apathetic bunch who have let Johnnie European get away with 'murder' since we joined the Common Market. Maybe, just maybe, something as small as an egg could be the catalyst that gets us to wake up to the sheer stupidity as well as the total democratic deficit that is the EU. Perhaps we are 'happy' to borrow money then ship £8billion a year of it across to Brussels to build roads and bridges in Ireland and Greece but maybe (please!) we will finally revolt against the EU over buying eggs by weight and regain our freedom?

UPDATE - Wednesday 30th June. According to the BBC this was a false alarm by The Mail On Sunday although I think there has been some behind the scene pressure as initially an amendment to save the "selling by quantity" had been rejected. See this link

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THEM SO FAR?

Along with another 21 million people here in the UK, I turned on my TV to watch the match at 7.30pm yesterday evening.

Watching the images relayed from the stadium, it made me proud to see such fine, upstanding, clean cut, hard-working young Englishmen representing our country in South Africa.

But enough about the Princes William and Harry. What about the English football team - weren't they CRAP??

SHOW AND TELL

When I was a child I lived within half a mile of the showground in Harrogate where they held the annual Great Yorkshire Show. This three day show was THE big event in the local calendar and one of the largest agricultural shows in the country. The traffic on those days was choatic but at least we could walk to the show. Probably the last show I went to was in the late 1960's.

Here in Suffolk, the county agricultural show is instead rather aptly named the Suffolk Show. This year we decided to buy tickets in advance and attend the show. I always hate buying tickets in advance given the unreliableness of the British climate but we took the gamble. In fact both yesterday and today we've had glorious weather - not a cloud in the sky - so our gamble has paid off.

We planned to get there mid-morning but the traffic queues were horrendous so took off down to Felixstowe for an hour, ate an early sandwich lunch watching the container ships at Felixstowe Dock and were then able to drive straight into the show without any congestion. Initially the place seemed heaving with people and as we passed countless trade stands, most of which Troy Junior wanted to look at, I was beginning to regret renewing my experience of agricultural shows. It wasn't as if I was in the market for a tractor or a combined harvester. The show site is vast but after an extensive walkabout we sat down near one of the show rings. Bowler hatted gentlemen in pinstriped suits were setting out a table of trophies.


A uniquely British scene!
The first event we witnessed was heavy horses pulling gleaming carts at speed through gaps only one foot wider than their wheelbase (the carts' not the horses' of course).
Here's one of the horses with its cart.


It was an impressive sight seeing these big beasts being steered on the gallop between such narrow gaps. If the obstacles were hit then the tennis balls balanced on them would fall off. It didn't happen very often, mostly they cleared with inches to spare.


The trophies shown in the first picture on this posting were for all the various class winning animals. There was a particularly impressive bull, being lead by a small young lady. Even the commentator in the ring marvelled at how she was able to control the animal. Mind you, if she hadn't, I suspect you would have already heard about it on the national news rather than seeing it first on my blog.


A part of that bull quite impressed Troy Junior. (Well I guess that's why he said "look at its balls" in a loud voice).
As well as Mr Bull, Mrs Cow and child, also won trophies. Mrs Troy was impressed with how clean they were.


Moving on to another show ring we were treated to some horse jumping. It was the first time that Mrs Troy had seen live show jumping and she was amazed at the height of the jumps. I stationed myself next to the last jump to get a photograph but most of the horses had faults (a technical term meaning they knocked off a rail) and retired before reaching the last jump. So I was lucky to get this photo before Troy Junior wanted to move on.


Finally to complete the photos from the day here are some horses and hounds pretending to be hunting a fox.


All in all, a very enjoyable day out. I left the show thinking that I mustn't leave it another 40+ years before visiting my next one.

A VERY LOCAL SHED COMPETITION

Last year one of my Troy Stalwart's, "Debs", entered her shed in the Shed Of The Year 2009 competition and was a catagory winner! I'd forgotten all about the competition until on her blog today I saw a reference to the Shed Of The Year 2010 competition. These sheds, including Deb's very own shed, are rather splendid edifices - glories to behold. Now Troy is rather proud of his own shed although is realistic enough to realise that his shed would never win a prize. Not in a national competition, not in a County competition. In fact, I'd probably struggle to win in a village competition. So instead I thought I'd enter it into the "Best Self Erected Shed In Troy's Back Garden" competition.

When I blogged about our garden makeover, way back in 2008, I actually ignored my shed although it does feature in the very corner of one of the photos. That's a shame bacause as I said above, I'm rather proud of the Troy Family Shed. We built it ourselves (well I suppose strictly speaking that should be "erected" rather than "built"). We levelled the ground and then the shed's components were delivered:-


Then Mrs Troy and I set about erecting it. Here we are part way through. I'll just leave this photo on here for a few days as I don't generally include photos of ourselves on the blog. However I'll give regular readers a sight of the delightful Mrs Troy as well as myself until the end of the week. Notice the dexterity with which I'm handling the specialist equipment. It's a bit like Doctor Who's sonic screwdriver although the actual technical term for it is "hammer".
[SORRY PHOTO SINCE DELETED]

When it was finished it looked like this - just a pretty ordinary shed you are thinking. Well that's what I thought. It looked very wooden (not surprisingly!) and didn't particularly blend into its surroundings.


I contrasted the white render and exposed lower bricks of the garage and hatched a plan to help the shed blend into its location. Two pots of paint later (large pots and several coats to be exact) it was transformed to this...


See how the garage roof corners, the white render and exposed brickwork are mirrored in the colour scheme of the shed? Mrs Troy also got some film to go over the windows to obscure the contents of the shed. Click on the photo above for a better view of Mrs Troy's contribution.


So this is my entry into the "Best Self Erected Shed In Troy's Back Garden" competition. Entries are now closed. I'm confident of winning because I'm also the judge of the competition. It's also the only entry which should help it somewhat. However do feel free to leave any complimentary comments you wish as the judge is happy to be helped in reaching his verdict.

ENGLAND GETS THE BLUES (OR DOESN'T)

I only did one blog posting about the election. And now, two days later, the election should all be in the past and the winning party should be getting on with governing the country. But it hasn't worked out like that, has it?

England voted for a fresh start. 82% of the nation, in 532 constituencies, via the ballot box sent the collective message "Bye bye Gordon". A government of England would have 297 Conservative MPs, 191 Labour MPs, 43 LibDem MPs and 1 Green. Enough to carry forward the Conservative manifesto and dig the country out the enormous hole it finds itself in (well, actually the enormous hole that Gordon Brown put us in). The bottom half of England - taking a line from the Severn to the Wash - voted even more overwhelmingly for the Conservatives (C 191, L 48, LD 30 I 1). So why can't we have what we want? Its simple, it can be summed up in one word. SCOTLAND.

Scotland, a nation which has its own parliament which has many devolved powers.

Scotland, a nation which has benefited from high levels of public spending due to the generosity of the English taxpayer.

Scotland, a nation whose banks were bailed out by English taxpayers.

So now we have Scottish socialist MPs (Labour and SNP) swarming down over the border, heading south to London to prevent the democratic will of the English, despite the Scots having their own parliament. Scottish MPs voting on many matters that affect the English only since so many policy areas have been devolved to the Scottish parliament. Scottish MPs voting on matters that don't affect their own constituents!

Wake up good people of England! This is a constitutional crisis.

We need to regain control of our democracy. If the Scottish people want a system of big government, central control, high taxation and high public spending then they should be allowed their choice as an independent nation. It might resemble Albania, Cuba or North Korea but it would be their choice. And the English likewise should be free to live under a system they have chosen. Where we find ourselves (both English and Scots) after this election is INTOLERABLE. So e-mail your local MP [I already have, but then he and I are on first name terms :-)] and tell him/her to put pressure on his/her party leader to break the Union and let both proud nations go their own way with the governments of their choice. David Cameron, in particular, needs to ditch his out of date attachment to the Union.

Here's a link to a great article about this in the Sunday Times.

Another interesting article in The Independent that concludes with the sentence "Although not many English yet realise it, their independence movement started last Thursday."

[And just to let you know how things went locally. The candidate I was helping got more than 50% of the votes cast in our constituency. I was invited to the count which declared at 2.40am. I stayed awake until 5am watching the other results on the TV. The neighbouring constituency, the town of Ipswich, turned blue and turfed out a Labour minister. In fact now, every square inch of Suffolk is Conservative!]