13 November 2010 (Saturday) - Rye Bonfire Parade

I’m going to start off today with a rant. I am sick and tired of people knocking the NHS. Take today’s news – one quarter of all cases of cancer are only diagnosed when the condition finally becomes so severe that the patients are so ill that they are admitted to hospital as an emergency. And this rate is far higher in leukaemia cases. Over half the brain tumours are found at such a late state. This is (apparently) shocking and disgusting and typical of the failing NHS. Or is it? Consider a specific form of cancer – skin cancer. Only 3% of skin cancers go undetected. Why is the NHS so better at detecting skin cancer as opposed to (say) tumours of the pancreas?

Do I really have to spell this out? Skin cancer gets detected early because people with this condition can see their skin going manky. It’s not so easy to see small lumps deep inside your body. Or take leukaemia (a condition with which I have a passing knowledge). This can only be diagnosed from a blood test – there are no lumps in leukaemia. Unless someone makes arrangements for their blood to be scrutinised, then it will go undetected until it is so far advanced that the lack of functioning white cells and platelets gives rise to the symptoms.

Aren’t we supposed to be in a time of austerity? Cutbacks all round? A mass physical screening of the population is going to cost a fortune. Whilst at college (in the early 1980s) I can remember being told of such a pilot scheme that was done in Orpington. Tremendous public expense, and no new cases of cancers found at all. And surely the general public must bear some of the blame. If they feel unwell, or have an odd lump, then they should go see the doctor, and not put it off whilst the lump gets bigger. Or am I missing something?

I went to work for the morning where I did a wonderful job which is utterly undervalued by the media (sulk, sulk!) and then popped in to the home brew shop to have a chat. They seemed to think that my plan to brew beer in closed containers is a winning scheme. I bought a hydrometer whilst I was there. It would be nice to know how strong the beer I’m brewing will be.

And then to the railway station to meet up with the Ashford based contingent of our party. “Daddies Little Angel ^TM ”’s mate was back from Italy, but we didn’t tell her that. Instead we arranged for Sofia to meet us at the railway station. We thought it might make a nice surprise for her. It did; she’s excitable at the best of times, but her squeals went supersonic.

Eventually everyone was together and I shepherded thirteen of us onto the train, and then we had a crafty half. I’d brought a back-pack full of beer, and it was rather heavy so I thought I might lighten the load. And with the first bottle drunk I could see the lights of Rye out of the train window. Having been emailing and messaging people about the event for a couple of weeks I thought I should take some responsibility. So I diligently ensured that all of the Ashfordians got to Rye. And with all thirteen of us on the platform of Rye station (and counted twice) my responsibilities were over.

Having checked out the pubs mid-week we then made our way to the Union Inn. Or that is some of us did. As is always the case, trying to organise people is somewhat akin to herding cats. And I must admit to wandering off myself when I saw the stall selling flashing rabbit ears. But the advance party of half a dozen of us found the pub and made a start on the ale, whilst the stragglers and chip-eaters eventually found us later.

After five pints we decided we ought to take up position to watch the procession come past. As fish and chips was passed round we met up with more of our group and exchanged insults. This year our group was perhaps the smallest it has ever been, with only twenty three of us. But we had a great time. It was at this point that we started making serious headway into the bottles of beer we’d brought along, but having drunk a gallon of ale from the pub meant we could use their facilities with a clear conscience. The best part of using their facilities was smuggling the ladies in our group into the cubicle in the pub’s gents to avoid the queue for the ladies. Great fun!

The procession came past – burning torches, everyone in costume, floats and noisy drum bands. I loved it. And then with the procession over, we made our way up to the Gun Gardens to watch the fireworks. We’d had discussions in the week about where would be the best place to watch the fireworks. The Gun Gardens had the advantage of height, but it was round the corner a bit from the actual bonfire site. Having said that, the bonfire site itself heaves with tens of thousands of people and is just a tad claustrophobic. In retrospect the Gun Garden isn’t the best place to watch the fireworks. Next year we’ll sort out somewhere else to watch them from.

And then we made our way back down the hill as fast as the crowds would allow us, and having said our goodbyes to friends who’d driven up from deepest Sussex, half a dozen (or so) of us made our way to the railway station. As is always the way at Rye, we’d managed to lose half the party on the way.

There was some minor unpleasantness whilst trying to get to the railway platform. The place was very crowded, but the police didn’t need to be quite so disagreeable. We’ve been going to Rye Bonfire Parade since 2004, and in those six years the only bad experiences I’ve had have been from the arrogant attitude of the police there. Would it have caused the silly constable physical pain to have given me a straight answer to a straight question? I am considering making a formal complaint about the attitude of the police at the station, but it wouldn’t achieve anything.

The train ride home was fun, and I passed round the remains of the bottle of port I’d bought, and we eventually staggered to be some time after midnight (I think – it was all rather vague by that time).

Same time next year… plans are already being made…

12 November 2010 (Friday) - Fixing My Computer

In previous blog entries I have regaled my loyal readership with tales of woe regarding my ailing computer. The poor thing is (nearly) four years old, and over the last few months it has rather began to struggle to do its job. Having installed Windows Defender and C-Cleaner I’ve attempted to sort the poor thing out. I’ve defragmented my drive and deleted my orphaned files. I’ve salvaged something from the tattered remains that was once my Windows registry file, and I’ve bunged out all manner of conflicting software that I neither needed nor wanted. I’ve scanned and scanned, but still the poor thing sounded like a helicopter trying to take off. Time and again the computer would freeze; the only option being for me to pull out the mains plug and start again.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. So I opened up the computer, blew all the dust out, and then put it back together again. I won’t pretend the thing is fixed, but it certainly seems a lot better than it once was.

I heard something of arky-ological interest on the radio today. It would seem that whilst hunting for dull bits of broken pots, an arky-ologist stumbled upon King Herod’s tomb. And whilst investigating this tomb, said arky-ologist stumbled over a railing and fell to his death. Destroying various artefacts on the way. I did laugh when I heard.

And of astronomical interest is Britain’s first to-orbit-and-back aircraft. “Vulture 1”, a paper aeroplane was lifted to space by helium balloon and successfully made its way back to the ground, taking photos as it went.

Another British triumph….

11 November 2010 (Thursday) - Sterility, Dole..

My mind has been on home brewing rather a lot lately. I can’t help but suspect that in years gone by, my home made wine was rather variable in quality because contaminating bacteria got in to the stuff. Maintaining sterility can be tricky, and errant microbes can be problematical; as anyone who’s ever eaten a dodgy kebab can testify.

Making wine was a very “open” process. The stout I am currently brewing is more “closed” in that you sterilise the inside of your container, chuck in all the ingredients, close the whole thing up, and that’s it. Once fermentation has finished you just tilt the box and start drinking the stuff. With a closed system it is far easier to maintain sterility.

So investing in fermentation vessels and plastic kegs and trying to perform aseptic siphoning isn’t the way forward. Obviously the trick is to make beer is the way I’m doing it at the moment; brewing it in it’s own polypin. The drawback to this is cost – a twenty litre polypin costs about fifteen quid. It can be re-used a few times, but it has a finite life. But re-using the thing runs the risk of contamination. And once you’ve bought the second polypin it’s already cost more than all the fermentation vessels and plastic kegs would have cost.

And then I had a stroke of inspiration. I know someone who uses saline (salt water) which is delivered in polypin-like boxes, and the boxes, once used, are thrown away. With a rinse out, such a box would be ideal for home brew – the only expense would be the beer making ingredients. And since the boxes are made to be disposable, I’d not even have to clean the thing out afterwards. I’d just chuck it away and get a new one.

I could knock out ale for as little as forty pence per pint. I have already obtained such a box. I shall buy a beer kit at the weekend.

‘er indoors ^TM  went out flogging candles tonight, leaving me to forage for my dinner. From experience I’ve found that foraging in the general direction of the KFC is usually successful. With the house to myself I watched a movie. “Bronson” wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea: it’s in the same vein as “I.D.”, “Scum” and “Clockwork Orange”. But I quite liked it, even if I did doze through the end of the film.

I’ve posted several times over the last few months about the many and various failings of our coalition government. Now, much as it pains me to do so, I’m going to sing their praises.

As a child I can remember my uncle once grumbling that a friend of his had left work. Because of this chap’s various personal circumstances the bloke was five pound per week better off on unemployment benefits, housing benefits, family allowance, etc than he was if he stayed in employment. 

Today the government has announced radical changes to the welfare system so that it pays to work. I’m not pretending the new system will be perfect, but I quite like the idea that long term unemployed people will be asked to do voluntary work, if only to get them back into the “working” frame of mind. There are no end of local charities who could benefit from such people’s efforts. Our local scout hall needs a lick of paint.

There are those who feel the measures are a tad harsh. But I can’t help but think of the leader of our local scout group who can run one of the most successful scout groups in Kent whilst being paralysed down the entire left hand side of her body. Or the leader of the Beaver Scouts who runs the most successful Beaver group for miles around, even though she is blind. Perhaps under these new measures they might actually be rewarded for their efforts?

10 November 2010 (Wednesday) - This and That...

I’ve just had two days off work: it rained constantly. Today I went back to work as the sun came out. I was so tempted to ask for today off as well, but I thought better of the idea. In retrospect I wish I had asked for the day off .

Enough of work: yesterday I mentioned that my box of stout was somewhat damp. I came home this evening to find that it has completely dried out. That was a relief. The thing is still bubbling away nicely, and despite the fact I’ve not tasted the first lot yet, I’m having ideas about what to brew up next. The idea of a barrel of porter for Xmas is appealing.

I had an email from Svetlana this evening. I’ve had several emails from her recently. Apparently she is nineteen years old, is “a man’s dream” and she is “looking for man to have a strong family”. She asked if I was too. Funnily enough I’m not “looking for man to have a strong family”. Not with my back (!)

She even sent me a picture of herself. She looked cold; it has to be said that when I pose for photographs I wear more than just a smile. She told me she was on-line and suggested we chatted, but I thought it best not to encourage her sort.

We could have had Chinese for tea tonight. A gentleman of oriental persuasion turned up on the doorstep and proudly announced he’d got my meal. I was quite happy with that until he wanted paying. I’d eat it if he was giving it away. He wasn’t. He claimed we’d ordered it over the phone. We hadn’t. He started a rant about how we had ordered from his restaurant, and when he eventually paused for breath I explained to him the difference between where he was (Beaver Road) and where he needed to be (Beaver Lane). For those not familiar with the area, the difference is just under a mile. He wasn’t happy with my explanation, and asked if I was sure I was in the right place myself. I thought I was being helpful by giving him directions to Beaver Lane. I got the impression that he thought I was talking the rise. Oh well… after all was said and done, someone about a mile away will have had a cold dinner this evening.

And then we settled down to watch the last episode of Downton Abbey. I love costume dramas and stories set in grand houses. Where the nobs upstairs have more money than sense, and the serfs downstairs are equally dumb for putting up with the nobs upstairs. Electricity, telephones and the war came to Downton Abbey this evening. It was a brilliant series. A shame it’s over, but I understand there is to be a second series next year. That will give me something to look forward to.

Regular readers of this drivel may recall I had a new leccie meter fitted a month ago. Today I received a leccie bill. It would seem that in one month I’ve got myself £112.27 in credit with the leccie people. I phoned them up and asked for one hundred of it back. They seemed quite happy with that idea. I’ve blogged in the past about how I’m financially stuffed at the moment, and that hundred quid would be very much appreciated. The fact that I’m probably going to spend it on home brew gear to make my Xmas porter is neither here nor there.

I also tried another way to recoup my fortunes today. One of my trainees at work is football mad. But not in the way that most football fans are. Instead he intently studies each team’s form and scoring records, and regularly predicts the outcome of matches with uncanny accuracy. By “investing” relatively small amounts, this chap often wins over a hundred pounds at the bookies with his skill. I asked if he’d “invest” a (relatively) small amount for me. Tonight’s prediction was that Everton would beat Bolton and that Swansea would beat Bristol City.

With a tenner stake I could have made a profit of twenty five quid. If only Bristol City and Bolton hadn’t won. That’s ten quid down the toilet….

9 November 2010 (Tuesday) - Another Day Off

Many years ago (1985), as part of my studies at Bromley Technical College I performed a rather major research project into the life cycle of yeast. Specifically fermentation. So I know how long it takes for yeast to get going and to start fermenting, and how long it takes for yeast to reproduce enough for fermentation to actually be apparent. As I added the yeast to my stout last night I actually said to myself that I couldn’t expect to actually see anything happen before 8am this morning.

None of that stopped me getting up at hourly intervals during the night, getting more and more worried that my home brew wasn’t doing anything. Fortunately for my nerves, when I got up (properly) this morning it was bubbling away quite happily. A regular “blopping” followed by periodic  more extreme releases of gas. A bit like my stomach, really.

A phone call: “My Boy ^TM ” had gone beach fishing this morning. I heard him going. I expect my loyal readers in Alberta and Wisconsin heard him going as well – he doesn’t go fishing quietly. He phoned to say he’d caught a bass, and to ask if that was normal. I expect it is. I’ve seen bass caught from the beach before. Not that I do much sea fishing. I don’t like sea fishing. Pond and river fishing is peaceful, done during the summer in pleasant weather. In my experience sea fishing is a test of one’s macho qualities. No one ever goes sea fishing unless the rain is torrential and the wind is at hurricane force. I don’t know why that is, I merely offer it as an observation of life.

And with the weather being against us again, we again decided against going to the zoo. Instead we settled for second best by having a look round the snake shop in Bethersden. They had some nice beasts, but I wasn’t tempted to get any. I’m not keen on doing the whole “reptile thing” again. (Been there, done that!). Whilst we were in the area, we’d heard that Tenterden garden centre had their Xmas decorations out, so we went to have a look at those. They weren’t overly impressive. But whilst there we had a look at their reptiles and Koi too. For me, seeing the reptiles and the Koi at a pet shop is every bit as good as a zoo. I get to see the animals I’m interested in, and I see them much closer up too.

We then drove on into Rye. With the bonfire parade only five days away we needed to check that all was in readiness: it wasn’t *that* far from Tenterden really.

I’d heard reports of a pub that was under new management that I wanted to check out before this coming weekend. The Queens Head is probably now in my top twenty pubs, if not my top ten (must actually write that list!). In the past Rye has been a venue for pub crawls, and the Queens Head has never once featured on any crawls. Now under new management it has friendly bar staff and a wonderful beer selection. A hard choice had to be made – deciding against the Crofter’s we settled down to a pint of Espresso – this pub is only the third place that I’ve seen Espresso on the hand pump, and it’s the only place I’ve ever seen (apart from the FILO) that has beer from the FILO brewery.

I would suggest changing our plans for the weekend to relocate to this pub, but it is right on the bonfire route and will be heaving. Our usual haunt for Rye bonfire parade is a little bit off the procession route, and will have space to breathe

And talking of our usual haunt, whilst in Rye we thought we’d case the joint and check that they were ready for the weekend. The nice people at the Union Inn assured us that they would have barrels of beer on the counter, and we had a pint of Cumberland Ale with a plate of dinner. Having assured ourselves that they were ready for the weekend, we moved on. Another pub that I wanted to check out before the weekend was the Mermaid. I’d heard so much about this place and…. let’s just say that it’s never appeared on previous pub crawls round Rye, and it won’t appear on any future ones either. If any of my loyal readers are in the area and they want to impress a boyfriend/girlfriend, or just be pretentious by paying vastly over the odds for poncey food accompanied by very average ale, then this is the place to go.

And then home to find that in my absence my box of stout had had an episode. Presumably there had been a rather excessive build up of fermentation gases; water from the air lock was sprayed everywhere, and one of the corners of the box was rather soggy. I’ve given the thing a larger air lock, and am hoping that over the next two weeks the box will dry out somewhat. If it don’t I shall boss it together with packing tape.

I suppose that I shouldn’t complain really. As the first brew (possibly of many) it is in many ways something from which I will learn. And lesson #1 is that wet things shouldn’t be kept in cardboard…

8 November 2010 (Monday) - A Day Off Work

‘er indoors ^TM  had the day off work today, so I took a day’s holiday as well. As I’m a supporter of the Aspinall Foundation, periodically I get free tickets to the local zoos, and so we’d planned to go to Port Lympne today.

I plan a lot of things, and mostly things go according to plan. So I shouldn’t be *that* miffed when occasionally things go wrong. The weather was against us today. With torrential rain and winds gusting up to 50mph, we decided that we didn’t much fancy walking round a zoo in a monsoon.

Having said that, we weren’t going to waste a day off, so we went to Dover museum to have a mooch round. We’d heard about this museum before, and at three quid it wasn’t overly expensive. The ground floor of the museum wasn’t too sad: prehistoric Dover, together with several artefacts of interest and descriptions of them. There was even a skeleton of a pre-historic Doverian. Going up the stairs were all sorts of articles and displays about the history of Girl Guides in the area.

The first floor was rubbish. To be fair to Dover museum, it will be good when it’s finished. But at the moment there are just endless displays of dull bits of broken pots with no explanation of what they are. Having ridiculed it, we moved on upwards.

The second floor featured an impressive stuffed Polar bear, and there were two main displays here. One was all about Dover since medieval times and was actually reasonably well done. The other was all about Dover’s ancient boat. Twenty years ago whist digging up the high street, diggers found a boat; three thousand years old and ten metres long. It was probably the first ever cross channel ferry, and this display was rather interesting. Which was surprising since we’d had a talk about it at the arky-ologee club (26 November 2008) which wasn’t overly riveting.

Lunch time: as we came out of the museum we found KFC. The rain was still torrential, so we popped in, if only to shelter from the elements. But KFC always makes for a good lunch. And on the way back to the car we made time for a crafty half. Two years ago I visited Blakes of Dover and wasn’t impressed. I would so dearly love to have this place in my top ten list of pubs. It has everything I rate in a pub. It’s off the beaten track. It’s downstairs in an obscure basement. It has decent ale from the best breweries – and some of the ale is poured from the barrel. It even has pickled eggs.

However it also has bar staff who know how marvellous their pub is. And rather than clientele or regulars, it has an “in-crowd” who make a point of staring at the newcomer. On my last visit I rather slated the place on a certain pub reviewing website, and today’s visit gave me no reason to change my opinion of the place.

On the way home we stopped off at another seaside town where a branch of Maplins has recently opened. I thought it might be worth a visit: I was wrong – it was dull. But whilst we were in the area we thought we’d go visit the most recent fruit of my loin. Unfortunately she wasn’t in, but “Thing Two” from Doctor Seuss was there in her pyjamas to welcome us. Or that was my initial reaction. I am told that they are very nice pyjamas, and who am I to argue.

Over the last few days I’ve been mentioning making my own beer. We called in to the local home brew shop today. Getting all the kit and caboodle looked a bit pricey, so I got a starter set which in only fifteen days will give me twenty litres of stout. If it works I will have managed to knock out the stuff for seventy pence a pint (which is even cheaper than Lidl). And if it doesn’t work I will console myself with the thought of how much money I could have wasted if I had bought the bigger kit. Loyal readers are very welcome to point and laugh at my box of “Stout Fellow” as it bubbles away in my kitchen. And loyal readers who respect the stout are very welcome to try some when I open the box in a couple of week’s time... 

7 November 2010 (Sunday) - Bit Dull, Really...

Last week we had the draw for work’s secret Santa for Xmas. When I saw who I’d got in the draw I knew exactly what gift to get for him, and so I had a look on eBay, found what I wanted and ordered it. I came home from work on Friday to find a note saying that the parcel was at the post office, and I collected it yesterday, but what with one thing and another I didn’t open the package until today. With packaging from Amazon and an invoice from Amazon, I find I’ve been cheated.

The seller is advertising products on eBay, and when people buy them he posts the buyer what they’ve ordered. But he doesn’t have them in stock. He just orders them from Amazon for five pounds cheaper than what he’s selling them for on eBay. He tells Amazon to deliver the goods to whoever’s ordered it and he pockets the profit.

I suppose I should have looked on Amazon first. This bloke’s not technically done anything illegal, or even wrong, but I feel as though I’ve been swindled. For what it’s worth he’ll get negative feedback, but because he’s a Power Seller on eBay, I can’t leave him negative feedback until a week after I received the thing. I shall bide my time.

Talking of eBay….. Yesterday I mentioned that I’m thinking “Home Brew” (again). I quite like the idea of knocking up five gallons of stout for Xmas. But I was amazed to find that I can buy the home brew kits in the town centre shops for about twenty quid cheaper that I can get them on eBay (or on Amazon!). Internet shopping isn’t the bargain it once was. Browsing the net I’ve found that there’s a home brew shop which as opened less than four miles from home. I shall have a look in there tomorrow.

And talking of beer, regular readers may recall a blog entry from June when I whinged about a pub in Warehorne. The Woolpack used to be a very good pub, but in June we found it to be pretentious and serving vastly overpriced tat in place of reasonably priced food. Since then we’ve heard all sorts of rumours about the place from all sorts of sources. Whilst gossip is hardly the most reliable means of communication, I heard so many stories about the place from so many people I soon came to the conclusion that my bad experience in June was in keeping with what most other customers had found about the place.

Today I received a message about this pub through a website I used to use a lot. The message read “You may be interwsted to know that there is a new tenant in the Woolpack, Warehorne, Give it a try, its much better and the new guy is great.” I was very “interwsted” to know this, and I may well pop back to see if things have improved.

Even though it was Sunday I was up with the lark today, and I spent the morning helping with the last bits of house moving. Fridge freezers don’t move themselves. In a better plane of reality, they probably do move themselves. But not in mine. In my world they are dependent on the likes of me to elevate them to the second storey. As are tumble driers. But it’s all good exercise.

After moving stuff to and fro and up and down we came home via Lidls (it was Sunday after all) and I spent the afternoon doing what is fast becoming my standard Sunday afternoon ritual: dozing in front of a rubbish film. Tea was good – home made soup then roast dinner. And then back to NeverWinter where my character (a particularly foxy elf) has lost her girlfriend in the sewer. Which was careless of her…