12 July 2012 (Thursday) - Care Records

A rather restless night - I was awoken at least once every half hour by a tinny electronic bleeping sound. I blamed "er indoors ^TM" phone (as it has a track record of having done that before) but apparently the device was innocent. Or so counsel for the defence claimed.

It turned out that the bleeping was the battery going flat on another phone. A shame the battery couldn't have gone flatter quicker. I spent much of today feeling quite exhausted.

There was something interesting on the radio as I drove to work today. It would seem that Ministry of Defence officials had briefed Tony Blair (When he was Prime Minister) about the UFO sightings in the UK. Apparently there were sightings at Chelsea FC's football pitch and there were aliens in hotels in South Wales and in Lincolnshire. UFOs were reported by RAF Air Commodores and by the Royal Naval ships sent off to kick the Argies out of the Falklands.

I wonder if Tony Blair took these reports seriously - it was quite clear that the chap on the radio this morning didn't.

Talking of not taking things seriously, I phoned my G.P. today to make an appointment (my guts aren't what they might be). I was told that they don't book appointments any more. I just have to phone up at 8am tomorrow and hope that I can get seen that morning. If I can't, then I might like to try my luck the day after, or the day after that. And just keep trying until I eventually get seen. Or die of whatever's making me crap blood.

And talking of my G.P. surgery, I received a letter from them the other day. I was given the chance to opt out of the National Care Record scheme. There are moves afoot to make my medical records available to any hospital in the country which might need them. This would have been particularly useful over the last few kite festivals when I've taken broken offspring to nearby hospitals who (because we live out of their area) had never heard of her. Under the proposed scheme the hospital would have had instant access to all relevant medical information.

However due to Health-and-Safety-Human-Rights-Lefty-Crackpotism we have the choice to opt out of this scheme. At first sight opting out would seem to be patently stupid. It makes such sense to be part of such a scheme. And writing to fifty-odd million people to give them the chance to opt out would have cost a fortune.

But it turns out that there is a lot more to this scheme than meets the eye. Who exactly can call up your data? And exactly what data can they call up? It would seem that there are all sorts of problems with the security of the data; so much so that private companies might even be able to legitimately use this database to access your ex-directory phone numbers.

I hate researching stuff like this. What started off as a clear-cut rant against anyone who would be so stupid as to opt out of what is so obviously a good idea has got me seriously considering opting out of a good idea so that I don't have to answer my telephone twenty times a day to people trying to sell me stuff I don't want.

11 July 2012 (Wednesday) - Planning...

Somebody up our road had a lift this morning, and they kept their lift waiting; a car pulled up outside the house playing frankly awful music at 5am, and stayed there for five minutes until I heard the car door open, an apology for tardiness made, and the car drove off. Who needs an alarm clock?

Over a bit of brekkie I watched "The Brittas Empire" on UK Gold. I've not seen that for a while - for all that it is the sort of program that having seen one episode you've seen the lot, I still like it.

To work, where I spent much of the day staring out of the window at the lovely day outside, and sulking about the six wet days I've just had as a summer holiday. There's no denying I gloated when there was a torrential downpour in the mid-afternoon.

And so home to the emails. I've volunteered to be the key-holder for the up-coming kite festival at Teston. There's some consternation about the event. Apparently there are no longer wardens employed at Teston Bridge Country Park, and I will need to arrange to meet up with a warden to collect the key. There is talk of me doing this at 5.30pm on the Thursday of the event; which is when the gates will be opened for us. This is about eight hours after when I'd rather be getting started. I'll see if I can't do some persuading.

Something else about the planning for the event which has me worried is the perceived need for a written list of everyone who will be staying at the event (and their ages). I'm reliably informed that this would be needed for health and safety reasons. One can't help but wonder what these reasons might be.
I've blogged in the past that I have had concerns that this might be the last kite festival at Teston. I'm becoming more convinced of that.

Mind you, I've seen an idea which appeals. A few years ago I went to Dieppe Kite Festival. It was a good weekend, and wasn't too pricey. But it can be done on the cheap. We drive down to Newhaven on the evening of Friday 14 September and take the 11pm ferry (as foot passengers) and have a sleep on the five hour crossing. We have brekkie on arrival, and mooch round the festival for the day. Lunch is bread and cheese from the market. Dinner in a local cafe - they are quite cheap. And back to Blighty on a late ferry, sleeping on the way back. I might just be up for this one (funds allowing)

10 June 2012 (Tuesday) - Still Raining

Through the vagaries of my working rota, having had a long weekend's break I found myself with another day off work today. Which was probably for the best as we were expecting a parcel to be delivered. So I dragged the tent (still wet from the weekend's camp) onto the lawn, pegged out the washing, and after a swift bit of brekkie I did something I've been meaning to do for years. Three years, to be precise. I updated the kite club's website.

The kite club as an entity might be all but defunct, but as a group we still do kite festivals and do fly from time to time.

Whilst I was at it I updated the Bat-Camp website too. It's a nice little archive for anyone who might have a passing interest in Bat-Camping.

One thing which surprised me was the amount of rain we have at camp. From my diaries I saw that I made mention of heavy rain at nine of the last ten kite festivals I've done and at four out of the last five Bat-Camps. When I put it starkly like that it sounds awful. I suppose it's a testament to the fun that we have that I don't really remember the rain.

And talking of rain I went to the garden to see if the tent was dry. It had rained in the meantime, and the tent was wetter than when I'd started. Oh, how I laughed. So I went back to the PC and applied for a few jobs. I got the next load of beer into the barrel ready for the next camping trip in a month's time. And by the time I had a rather late lunch the tent was (relatively) dry. Which came as a relief. It's now in the shed, ready to get soaked again in a few weeks' time.

The doorbell rang. Our parcel had finally arrived. My plans for the day had involved doing another catalogue drop to the masses, but that was on hold until the parcel had arrived. It was gone 4pm by the time the parcels got here, and looking out of the window I could see that the skies were looking decidedly dark, so against my better judgement I played "Bubble Witch Saga" for half an hour or so before going round to Somerset Road where the tribes had gathered...

9 July 2012 (Monday) - Home Again

I emerged from the tent shortly after 7am to find the banners had dried overnight, so I spent an hour putting them away. It's a job I'd rather do on Sunday evening at kite festivals because it takes so long to do. As I did the job I found myself looking down the hill. On the second time we came to Brighton Kite Festival (ten years ago) we asked if we might stay over on the Sunday night. No one else did then. But we seem to have started something. II think it's probably fair to say that half the people who had stayed at the festival had stayed on over the Sunday night.

Brekkie was good - omelettes. Very tasty. And we then cracked on with breaking camp. Fortunately the rain held off, but it had rained so much over the weekend that the underside of my tent was soaked. I packed it wet and decided to worry about it later.

We spent five minutes moving a portable generator before saying our goodbyes and making our way home where it didn't take too long to pack the camping gear away. I got the tent's groundsheet dried and our sleeping bags aired. I got the tent itself mostly dried, but there were a few spots of rain blowing in the wind so I shoved the tent into the shed. I'll sort that tomorrow.

The electrician called and fixed our broken light. It would seem the dimmer switch had broken again. That's two of those that have gone in a year. That seems a rather high attrition rate to me. And as I was mucking about on the Internet my phone rang. Regular readers of this drivel might recall I took a literacy and numeracy test as part of a possible teaching job. It would seem I got full marks for those tests, and a nice lady chatted to me about possibly going forward with becoming a teacher. Do I want to? I don't know. I shall give it some serious thought...

8 July 2012 (Sunday) - Brighton Kite Festival (Still)

There must have been rice pudding last night - the stuff was strewn everywhere this morning. Brekkie was good, and just as we were finishing so the last of our contingent arrived. A day later than planned, and still rather sore, but it was good to see Terry and Irene.

As the morning wore on we heard horror stories of people whose camps had been washed out in last night's rainstorm, There was also consternation that the liquorice stall's gazebo had collapsed under the weight of rain water that had collected in the thing.

We had been fine, but it was a shame that others had given up and gone home. The liquorice people hadn't - so we lent them a spare gazebo.

Having flown kites yesterday morning, I attempted to do so again. Attempted and failed. All I did was to tangle everyone else up. So having flown the kites for five minutes to get them dry I tidied them away and made my way to the children's workshop for a second day.

Today was fun in the children's workshop. There was one particular customer - a rather serious harridan with a face like a bulldog licking tiddle off of a stinging nettle. She came along the line where children normally would. Her children peered nervously round her ample fundament. When I attempted to chat with her kiddies she moved between me and them, and told me quite forcefully that her children don't speak to strangers.

I suppose she had their best interests at heart, but the kiddies certainly missed out by not being allowed to make their own kites.

Unfortunately we ran out of lines so we had to close the children's workshop early. Back to base, where Terry was flying a beach-towel kite. We had fun flying this kite for an hour or so, then it was time for "er indoors ^TM" to go and fly her kites in the arena. Or that had been the plan. Unbeknown to us the schedule had been re-arranged. Oh well.... next year maybe.

We had a very good early tea. Madras and dahl and egg curry. Very nice. I started on the washing up, but was chased away from it, so I thought I'd take down the banners. I'd spent quite a bit of time during the afternoon watching them get almost dry enough to put away, only to get soaked by a passing shower. I wanted to get the banners away dry, but it wasn't happening this evening. Just as they were almost dry so the rain would start again. As we waved goodbye to Terry and Irene I gave up with the banners and started on the beer. Banners will keep until tomorrow....

7 July 2012 (Saturday) - Brighton Kite Festival

Bearing in mind the state in which I staggered off to my pit last night I woke feeling amazingly raring to go. But over a morning cuppa we had some bad news. The last of our contingent to arrive had been delayed. Seriously delayed. Actually in hospital delayed. It transpired that a coffee-related injury had done for Terry. We spent much of the day anxiously awaiting updates.

Pausing only briefly to secretly feed black pudding to my grand-dog I got two kites into the sky. It sounds easy. It probably took me the best part of an hour to do. I then made my way to my post at the children's workshop where quite a few of us spent a couple of hours helping children make little kites which they would promptly get stuck in trees.

Once 3pm arrived we shut up the workshop, and I slowly made my way back to base. Slowly, calling in on many campers and caravaners on the way. There are so many people that I know through kiting, and I see them maybe twice a year at most. It was good to catch up with people.

I hadn't learned from my mistake, and had a another pint of Dissorano. It never seems that strong at the time. There was also Pimms going on, and I found that a slice of orange went very well with my home brew.

An evening meal of sweet n sour pork was well appreciated, but the rain (which had been on and off all day) was steadily getting worse. So much so that it completely stuffed my ability to get our camp fire going. So in time honoured fashion we retreated into out communal tent and drank ourselves silly. I'm told there was rice pudding....

6 July 2012 (Friday) - To Brighton

Once breakfasted the Folkestonians arrived, and we set off to Brighton. There was a minor episode on route. I was supposed to be leading the convoy, and so I periodically kept checking that the black car was following me. Having been following me for twenty miles the black car suddenly overtook and shot off. And the Folkestonians weren't in that car. It was the wrong car. They'd stopped for a tiddle twenty miles behind and lost me. I waited for a few minutes, but they never caught up. So I applied logic and thought that even if they were lost they would be more likely to find me at Stanmer park than in some obscure country lane. Funnily enough we arrived at Stanmer park at the same time.

We decided to camp about half way up the slope; being up it gave us a good view of what was going on, and it was (relatively) flat there. We got "Brown and Smelly" (the communal mess tent) together easily enough, but as we started putting out tents up, so the heavens opened. We got absolutely soaked.

As we grumbled about the weather so more of our number arrived, and once lunch was cooked we felt drier and happier. I put the banners up, and drank half a bottle of Dissorano for no adequately explained reason. More of our party arrived, as did the in-laws and lots of other festival-goers. In a spirit of joining in I even went so far as to open my kite bag and fly a kite.

Fajitas are always popular for tea, and they were washed down with home brew. I was quite pleased with how my home brew had turned out. So pleased that I had a second glass of the stuff to celebrate. I'm told there was port and cheese. I blame starting too early on half a bottle of Dissorano.

I staggered to bed shortly after 1am...