So Sunday, the last day at Hay Festival was pretty idyllic. A sunny afternoon relaxed into a glorious evening and the final remnants of the sun-worshipping literati lay on the lawn reading or splayed out in one of the deckchairs.
Listening to Stephen Fry in the Barclays tent, a guttural bleating interrupted the proceedings and made me think “Hah. Some farmer’s phone with a comic sheep ring-tone. How apt.” Continue reading “Hay: over and out”
I started writing this when it was wet and cold at Hay – so cold you could see your breath – but somehow still worth it.
Not the kind of weather to spend any time at all on the dizzy heights of Lord Hereford’s Knob. Oh no.
Hay Festival’s weather is fickle. It alters in a heartbeat and a glimpse of sun suddenly makes all those deckchairs on the central lawn advertising holidays in Spain seem suddenly so appropriate. Continue reading “Hay ho”
120 million viewers all over Europe (mostly) watched the finals of the 55th annual Eurovision Song Contest, live from Oslo, Norway, last night. As usual, there was satisfaction and grumpiness, depending on which camp one was cheering for, but overall it was a big, colourful, fun party. According to veteran UK commentator Sir Terry Wogan, ‘Eurosong’ is not a contest at all. It’s a music fair; a gathering for European countries to showcase and celebrate their music to the rest of the continent. There is an element of competition thrown in, to keep things interesting, but deep down it’s a party, meant to be fun and not taken seriously.
For the record, here are the results, including snippets from the top performances of the evening, for the Sunday recreation of the rest of the world.
After the fiasco of the
I am very lucky, living within a few miles of Oxford. The benefits of the city while not living in it.
I have often thought what a different path my life may have taken had we settled in any of the various alternative locations where Cyclomaniac had job interviews back in the late 1980s. Continue reading “Wisteria”
Grrr!
We want our results.
And so, once in a blue moon, there comes a TV series that enthralls, uplifts, informs, makes you howl laughing, feel nauseous and is only very occasionally tedious.
That series is Coast. I’ve been watching the programmes for what seems like years and I’m not fed-up yet. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been caught in its trawler net as it plies the waters around this sceptred isle with a little detour for the less sceptred tax haven isles a stone’s throw from France. Continue reading “Coast”
“If at first you don’t succeed, then skydiving is not for you”. Brian grinned inwardly as he read the flyer advertising a parachuting course at a local airfield. He liked the droll humour of the advert and this was just the kind of challenge a young,gun in his position ought to be pursuing to maintain the interest of the stockbroker’s daughter to whom he was engaged.
“Mum! Nooooooo.”
His scream was shrill and distraught. My heart beat hard against my chest. What on earth was wrong, this time? But before I could call back, an angry shout came towards me accompanied by footstamps on the stairs.
“What have you done? I can’t wear this.”
I quickly unlocked the bathroom door, still doing up my flies.
“You know Mum’s not here; I’ll be there in a moment, James.”
But he was already standing outside the door, waiting for me.
“Look, Dad.” He held out two articles of clothing. Two pink articles of clothing, still wet from the washing machine. Continue reading “No Solution”
I planned to garden but it is very wet out there, so have scanned the local paper for plants sales. There’s a good one on this morning fairly locally. 
I’m creating a new bed this year as my ‘best bed’ is no longer visible from my kitchen window (the extension hides it from me) so I’m planning to plant in front of the yew hedge. Continue reading “Wet, wet, wet”
Boadicea's Chariot 
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