20th October 2016

Since returning from Canada, the Palmers, like the rest of the world, seem to be winding down for 2016. With Remoaners and Brexiteers dominating the national news and the Trump v Clinton spectacle monopolising the international stage, it seems this year will be remembered for the vitriol that only our species can revel in. I must admit that much of what we see on TV and hear on the radio can be entertaining. It certainly solves the issue of programme scheduling and fills column inches for the media. However, at some point, we will have to ask ourselves, “When is enough, enough?” And therein lies the problem. The quiet people, the mildly conscientious majority, have had enough. The trouble is, they aren’t entirely sure of what, and that is concerning. 2017 will undoubtedly be a year of change for millions, if not billions, and it is inevitable. We must remember that WE are the fortunate ones. WE have choices. WE are not in immediate danger, and WE are the agents of change. So, fingers crossed, and with personal opinions kept for personal use, I shall continue with this blog.

Charlotte suffered a nasty bout of allergy, possibly a reaction to gluten, but until she undergoes further tests, the medics remain uncertain. What is certain is that it caused her significant discomfort and worry. On a brighter note, the symptoms seem to have settled down now. Apart from the occasional bout of itchiness, the swelling and rash have subsided.

Ellis has developed a lump behind his knee, which is a cause for concern. However, as it doesn’t seem to cause him any pain or hinder his typically boisterous activities, like his mum, he is also awaiting medical tests.

Lucas, on the other hand, is in excellent health. He frequently claims ‘Man of the Match’  trophies at his soccer club, and his annual kidney check-up resulted in a clean bill of health for the year.

Both boys received glowing school reports, so congratulations are in order for Mum and Dad, who must have heeded all the good advice given by the grandparents over the years.

My Fiesta, like Lucas, has passed its MOT. And at my last dental check-up, the dentist was amazed at the condition of my teeth, joking that I must have the bite of an alligator. I’m not entirely sure what he meant by that, but I took it as a positive and will continue with my usual carnivorous diet.

I entertained Mia on Monday and, as usual, Peter and I took her out for lunch in Foxton. However, upon returning home, I realised I had lost my wallet somewhere along the route. Naturally, by then the rain had started. With little choice, I drove to The Black Horse to see if it had been left there, only to find the establishment closed. In the rain, I retraced my steps alone, carefully checking each stile and path section. Drenched, I arrived home empty-pocketed. Despite numerous phone calls,  the pub didn’t answer my calls. At 6:30 pm, Sue drove me back to collect my car and with the hostelry now open, I checked with the landlord if a wallet had been handed in. No luck. Then, as I was leaving, I glanced at the chair I had been sitting in that afternoon, and there it was, smiling back at me! Oh, the joy! Reuniting with an old friend has nothing on finding a mislaid wallet.

Alongside her weekly walking groups, Sue managed a couple of outings with the U3A History group. They visited Boughton House to see where part of Les Misérables was filmed and, more recently, toured the Charles Rennie Mackintosh House in Northampton. We’ve also been to the cinema several times; the highlight was perhaps the remake of Tarzan.

It has been a disappointing year for my little vineyard. Back in April, I had high hopes for a bumper crop, with a vast number of bunches developing early in the heat and sunshine. Sue juiced most of the red grapes while I was away in Canada, but few had ripened. Many remained small and hard. This week, I picked the white grapes and faced the same outcome. After stripping, crushing, and beginning fermentation, I pressed them to extract the juice and was dismayed to find I had less than 10 litres. Let’s hope it’s good stuff! Last year, I had over 75 litres.

Jamie has sold his Evo. We haven’t seen much of him since returning from the Rockies, but he dropped by one evening for me to review the speech he’d written for his role as best man at Michael Hobbs’ wedding. I was impressed with his work, suggesting only a few tweaks to ensure the older members of both families would understand some of the modern references.

Charlotte has burned her red-mite-infested henhouse, purchased a new one, and rehoused her eleven ladies in the children’s play area in her back garden. Over the following two days, I helped Suraj build a new pen to keep them safe from foxes. While erecting the chicken wire, I somehow managed (quite deftly) to spike the wire into my left eye, causing it to fill with blood. Charlotte rushed me to Kettering Hospital, where, for the first time ever, (expecting to wait several hours) I was processed and administered antibiotic eye drops within an hour. Most surprisingly, it was a Sunday; if the papers are to be believed, I should have been left on a trolley for three days before expiring. I returned to finish the job before nightfall, ensuring the hens would sleep unmolested by Reynard that evening.

I now sport one demonic red eye, an indication of my current disposition and perfectly timed for Halloween!

Sarah has started a course in ‘Management and Leadership’, which involves writing essays once again. This past week, I’ve been reading through some of the questions she has (as usual) completed well ahead of the deadline. Is there no rest for the wicked? I spent three gruelling years doing something similar when she was at university.

On Wednesday, Sue and I joined Charlotte to watch Ellis’s harvest festival at Rothwell Church. It was a sweet and charming service, only slightly marred by a somewhat clueless priest, who had little understanding of how to engage with children. Nevertheless, the enthusiasm and naivety of the little ones pulled him through.

In readiness for our break to Jersey, after the service, we endured a slow, rush-hour, stop-start drive down to Crawley to check in to the Ramada Hotel, also known as the George Hotel, a 15th-century coaching inn. Later that evening, we had dinner at a pub on Crawley High Street before retiring for the night.

We woke at 3 am and drove to the Purple Parking carpark, where we left the car and boarded a bus to Gatwick Airport. Our flight to Jersey departed on time at 7:05 am.

It was a chilly but bright morning when our 35-minute flight landed. We were first off the plane, managed to grab a taxi, and arrived at our accommodation, the Golden Sands Hotel in St. Brelade’s Bay, 15 minutes later. Fortunately, the reception staff allowed us to check in early and gave us a room straight away. They also conveniently booked us onto an island tour later that morning, starting at 9:30 am.

After unpacking and having coffee in the room, we returned to reception to board the tour bus with several other guests. On arriving in St. Helier, we changed buses and were joined by more sightseers before setting off around the island. Our route took us all over the island, stopping frequently for photos, coffee, ice creams, and lunch. It was a sunny and mostly warm day, although the occasional chilly breeze ensured fleeces remained on at each stop.

Jersey is, as expected, a very pretty island, and our guide explained it is home to many wealthy individuals who have paid handsomely to live there and enjoy the 11% tax rate. Much like our visit to Guernsey the previous year, we admired a fair few beautiful homes. I was particularly impressed by Geoffrey Boycott’s bungalow and Roger Moore’s house, aptly named ‘Moonraker’.

We returned to the hotel by 4 pm after what had been a very long and tiring day. Back in our room, I promptly fell asleep on the bed, while Sue sat on the balcony with her book, admiring the tremendous sea view, said to be the best on the island, according to both our tour guide and the taxi driver from that morning.

Sue woke me in time to accompany her to dinner at 6:45 pm. We enjoyed an excellent three-course meal, accompanied by an excellent local ale called Mary Ann.

Afterwards, relaxing in the bar, we listened to a singer-guitarist over a couple more drinks until it was time for Sue to catch ‘The Apprentice’ on TV. Something she couldn’t have done if we were in the Far East, or on a cruise!