A walk on a winters day

The weather was cold, but sunny.   And no rain.   A walk was in order.  So we, Donna, Lucy and me, put on our wellingtons (or gum boots, if you live downunder), in different colours. blue, maroon and lavender plus spots.  No green or black colours for us.  And attached the pink lead, with pink poo bags, to Poppy, and off we went into the crisp cold air.

 What was this looming over the green hill?   Clouds, but as it was quite windy, they disappeared quickly, thank goodness.    However, it was a very cold wind, that blew over this hill.

 We walked along the towpath, taking care not to slip on the mud, and then down the bank into the very cold canal.   Easy to do too.  Once Poppy slid on the mud, straight into the canal, but luckily Donna was able to haul her out by her collar.    And luckily Donna did not slip down with Poppy into the canal too.  

 Bottoms up!

 Sunny, but cold.  A view over a canal that was extremely busy last May, on a hot day.

 We walked between the canal and the reservoir.   Not so muddy here.

 An old lock house, with lock in front.

 The reed beds looked spectacular with their seed heads.

Then back home to the warmth, a cup of tea and a long rest after our 2 hour walk.   And to wash our boots, and give Poppy a bath.  A very muddy but happy dog.   I love winter walks.

A mighty gale

Well, it is hard to believe that one week ago we were in the midst of gale force winds and very heavy rain.  All just a dream now, except for the empty conservatory, and damaged wooden floor.

But back to last Sunday.   As the day progressed the wind grew stronger and stronger, from the south west, accompanied by heavy rain.    What an alarming noise!     

We looked at our conservatory, catching the full blast of the wind and rain.   Will it stand up to the storm?

First the rain started to come through the edge of the roof, under the flashing, where it was attached to the wall of the house.   

Then at midnight Walter heard a bang, and a thud, thud, thud sound.   The roof was starting to come away from the frame.   So Walter, brave man, put on his tracksuit and rain jacket, got the ladder and drill out, and attempted to put some more screws into the glazed triple polycarbonate roof.   Success.  No more flapping.

All that can be seen of Walter is the light from the torch, held in his mouth of course.   He only had two hands.    The wife stayed safely inside the house, and gave encouragement.

Buckets, buckets everywhere.

The furniture stacked up inside the lounge room.  Luckily they were removed before the roof started to leak.

The next morning all was calm.   We mopped up as best we could, and stacked up the outside patio chairs against the wall,

and left our cheap charity shop table, covered with a plastic tablecloth.

We looked at the floor, and thought 'Nothing we can do about this for three months'.

We moved all the furniture into the spare room, which had just been cleared of Scott's television, speakers and filing cabinet.   And there it will stay until we return from Australia.

But the conservatory was not the only casualty.    The pebble dashing coating came off our chimney, and landed on the neighbours car, cracking the windscreen.    But luckily for us, anyway, we share this chimney with the people who live in the maisonette above, and they are going to sort out the repairs.   Shared cost of course, and not cheap.

The back garden looked largely untouched, until five days later.   Now there are piles of branches and twigs from our hedges.  Thrown over by our neighbour, no doubt, when she cleaned up her garden this week.   She also threw the pieces of pebble dashing from the chimney into our front garden.   She is not a happy bunny. Not that I can blame her.  I think I will keep a low profile for a while.

But on a lighter note.   Our little shed at the back, the one that looks like an Australian outback toilet, remained upright.   It must have been due to the stick that Walter wedged against it, in order to keep it upright.

Well our conservatory roof has had some roofing and gutter sealant applied under the worst parts of the flashing, so fingers crossed it will survive until we return in April.    A new roof and floor, will be our first task.   Our next project, unplanned.   Nice to have a project to come back to here.   Something to look forward to.

A day out in London

Last Thursday we travelled into London to meet Donna for lunch.    A pleasant and fast train journey from St Mary Cray to Victoria, then an easy journey on the Victoria line to Highbury-Islington.

But our journey ended with quite a shock when we walked out of the exit, to see a run down, and dirty scene outside the tube station;  There was a dreadful and once white wooden building opposite the exit, and an array of homeless people looking anxiously around for donations of money.  

We hurried around the corner into Upper Street, to find the sun glinting in the horizon, which gave the place a slightly mellow feel.  And Upper Street, with its cosmopolitan feel, was certainly a lot more positive.

I zoomed the camera onto the church spire in the distance, and stood on tip toes in order to get the camera above the traffic in the street, and hey presto, I managed to get a photograph that could easily be taken out of a Victorian winter scene.   Except for the television aerial on the building.   Oh well, good intentions.

We met Donna at the appointed time outside the town hall, and time for a photo shoot.   Great to see her.

Then off to a Moroccan restaurant called Gem, where we ate the most delicious food, all freshly prepared and cooked on the spot.   And not expensive, about 8.50 pounds for two courses and a soft drink.

We walked back across the road for an excellent coffee, before heading back to Highbury Corner to catch the tube to our other destination for the day, Harrods.  

Before we left I tried to find a view outside the Highbury-Islington tube station that gave the area a positive feel, when I spotted a bicycle park,  a little bit of the Netherlands. So with quite a bit of juggling to eliminate dingy buildings, I managed to get a reasonable photograph.

Cycling is extremely popular in Islington, but the cyclists certainly live dangerously, as the traffic is very heavy, and Upper Street is the main route for emergency services.   An almost continous sound of sirens.
I can see Aaron and Kylie thinking, 'We are glad we do not live in Islington anymore'. Islington is certainly not tranquil Houten.

Back on the tube again, with a change at Green Park requiring a very long walk between platforms.  It is amazing to think that under the streets of London there exists a huge network of railway lines and pedestrian tunnels.   Another world.

Finally the correct platform with the railway line disappearing off into the tunnel.   I always fear that the train will break down in one of these tunnels and all the lights go out.   Panic!   Keep calm, Nola, it may never happen.

Finally we arrived in Knightsbridge.  Harrods.   No beggars or dirty and unkempt buildings here.    Everything spic and span, and polished for the tourists, especially those with plenty of money.   Not us of course.   We are only there to look.

The theme for the window display, was Harrod's Christmas Express.     Each window was set up as a carriage, with a winter snow scene moving outside the train windows.

The models were wearing very expensive clothes, plus every item in the 'carriage' smacked of extravagance.

 

The reflection in the window was so pronounced, due to squeaky clean windows, that it was impossible to take photographs of the whole window, so I had to place the camera against the glass to get the next photograph.

Walter admiring the window display and trying to work out how much everything cost.   We cannot afford it, Walter, not on our budget;  

Harrods is no longer owned by Al- Fayad, who sold it in 2010 to Qatar Holdings for about 1.5 billion pounds.   I think he used half of the money to pay off debts.   The memorial to his son, Didi, and Diana, is still there, including their diamond 'engagement' ring.   I found it all a bit too garish.

The shop was tastefully decorated with Christmas glitter.   No prices on any items, of course.

The food hall, full of sumptuous food, from all over the world.  Walter bought some coffee beans, but tore a hole in the plastic Harrods bag before he returned home, so we cannot reuse it for future shopping trips.  To impress that is!   The coffee was pretty good, but not the best we have tried.  

Prickly pear fruit, with prickles removed, and from the description on the label they were meant to be deliciously soft inside.   I might try one when down in the south of France.  And to think the farmers in South Australia could have made a fortune by exporting them to Harrods, rather than spraying the prickly pear bushes with insecticide in order rid the land of the pest.  

There were bars where one can sit at and eat seafood or steaks or other delicious food.   I think this was the caviar bar.

Harrods at dusk.   A very imposing building.  There is no doubt about that.

We decided to catch a bus back to Victoria Station, where we enjoyed the views into the buildings - Christmas trees and decorations shimmering in the front windows of all the expensive apartments.

Ah, Victoria Station, at dusk, fully lit up and busy.

A pleasant journey home again on the fast and clean train.

Lunch at McDonalds. Not to be repeated in a hurry.

Lunch at McDonalds.  Desperate measures really.   I had grandchildren with me, who usually like to dine in better establishments these days.  But they were hungry, and McDonalds was convenient, too convenient really.   Why is it when hunger pangs start, that there is always a McDonalds available!

What a mistake.   This lunch was the worst meal I have ever eaten, well this was not completely true. The dreadful pizza in Milan, and another in the mountains of France, plus a late lunch in Sienna, would have to be classed as the worst meals I have eaten, and these are countries that prize themselves on extra good food.  So no excuse there.

Fast food, and the UK habit of reheating food badly,  plus leaving food to sit in warmers, was at its worse on this particular day.    The meat was lukewarm and rubbery and had no taste, other than the overload of salt and sugar.   And the artificial additives.   Or was it meat?   Hard to tell really.   It was unpalatable anyway. The coffee weak.  The melted cheese clung coldly to the meat, and were they really buns holding it all together.   Stale and unappetising.  Even Jackson and Isabel struggled through their meal, alhough they were fascinated by the electronic games board being beamed down on our table.   Designed to take one's mind off the meal I am sure.

The idea of McDonalds appeals to us all.   Comfort food.  And quick.  But the reality of eating it is another thing.   Even Raphy, aged three and a half, who was initially excited about eating in McDonalds in the Netherlands, with an abundance of mayonnaise and ketchup, quickly realised that the chicken nuggets had a very unusual flavour and texture, and were not to his liking.

Yet we have used McCafe in different countries (not the UK) and found the coffee to be good, and the array of cakes appetizing.  There are often comfortable seating areas, with couches and armchairs.   We also had to have breakfast at one in Greymouth, New Zealand, as it was the only place open on a Good Friday morning.  I think I had a toasted roll and jam, not something you can go far wrong with really.   And I believe that in Australia, McDonalds always cooks food fresh, which compensates a bit for the awfulness of the ingredients.

But back to the UK, people accept preheated fast food, that sits around in a warmer, so no doubt McDonalds takes advantage of this, which makes the experience of eating a McDonalds' burger worse than ever.  

And to think that many children, and adults, eat this stuff regularly, due to its cheapness and convenience.  Worrying.

On a final note, when I complained, on the day of the truly awful lunch, a staff member offered to give us a free dessert.   Just to complete the nastiness of the experience I think. My stomach recoiled at the thought, so I quickly declined the offer, resolving never to set food inside a McDonalds again.

 I may make an exception though, and drink coffee at a McCafe, but not in this country.

Winter light

The light outside has changed, and the sun hovers above the horizon, especially in our house as the back garden is on a hill behind the house.   Even though our conservatory faces south, the sun appears briefly in the south east, and then drops down quickly behind the neighbours' trees.  But mostly this does not matter as we see no sun anyway, due to the cloud cover, which covers the sun for days on end.   England specialises in grey skies I think.

 However, when the sky is clear, then it is best to go for a walk, and really enjoy the wonderful light that comes from the very weak sun.  And even better when one can walk in the wood, through a carpet of fallen leaves, in the stark light, just on dusk, which now occurs between 3 and 4 p.m.

But I digress a little. The first photograph was taken at 8 a.m.   A very red sunrise, causing everything o look orange.   I thought at first that it was my bleary morning eyes that made everything appear orange, but no it was the morning sun.  Yes the old saying of 'Red sky in the morning, shepherds' warning' was certainly correct.  The wind sprung up soon after this, although we did not get the storms that people experienced in the north of the country.

But back to the stark light at 3 p.m.  The blue sky, dusk falling and the dark outlines of the birch and everygreen shrubs standing starkly against the blue background made quite a dramatic scene from our conservatory.

So I decided to go for a walk in the woods, accompanied by my new camera.

  I must admit that once through the gates, I was a little distracted by the gardens on the edge of the wood.   And what is this?  A cow? Not a real one, of course.  But I am always fascinated by the ornaments in this garden.  Mostly animals.

The secret garden!   A walk along the path in this part of the wood, is always a time of peering into the lives of the people whose houses back onto the wood.   No garden is the same and all reflect the interests and enthusiasms of the people who live there.   A few are not keen gardeners!

  But back to the stark light at dusk.  Actually the trees in the wood, were softened in the late afternoon light, however the dimness is certainly noticeable.

 Once out of the wood, the solitary trees really showed up against the sky.   Fascinating.

  And home again, the sky was even darker, although it was only about 3.45.

 The weak sun and early dusk is a reminder that there are only about two more weeks until the shortest day.

Winter clean up

A winter clean up, mostly of the garden, was certainly needed here.    The garden was so overgrown and messy.  And I think our neighbours were beginning to despair.   It took many days and many trips to the reclying depot to complete the job.

We can finally see the lattice fence at the back of the garden and the neighbours conifers.

The sorbus and the lilac have been tamed, both had been suckering all over that back stretch of the garden.   I am now determined not to let it happen again. Famous last words, so they say.   The plum tree, has also had all its competing neighbours removed, so maybe we will get some plums again.   Last year the plums rotted before they ripened.  No sunshine or air circulating around tree, I think.

I have never been able to stand in this part of the garden and look towards the house.

All clean and tidy and ordered.  I feel so good.

In the meantime Walter climbed onto the roof and scrubbed the roof of the motorhome.   Living dangerously! 

The builders sandbags, very useful for filling with garden rubbish.   Easy to put into the back of the car.   No mess either.

The view out of the kitchen window, towards the tidy patio, with table and chairs ready for next summer.   I now have two orchids, the new one from Hans and Jose, in full bloom, and our original one just about to come into flower.   They love this spot on the window sill, just enough warmth and sunshine.

 So we can now sit back, and enjoy the cold days, and look out of the window, and think, all is well in the garden.   No doubt the moles will soon discover the tidy garden, and start clearing out their tunnels.  Perfection does not last.