Whew, it’s been a chilly, chilly week, especially after the relative balminess of the week before. The frostiest April in 60 years, so the BBC tells me. We’ve had a bit of rain but we need more – lots of showers about but most of them seem to have evaded our back garden. I just hope the frost doesn’t whack the blossom on the fruit trees.
Penelope wanted to visit the bluebells at Everdon Stubbs the other day. I suggested she might be disappointed – when I had cycled by the woods the other day I didn’t spot any bluebells along the side of the verge. She thought there might be some worth seeing in the middle of the woods. So, she sweetly cajoled me into accompanying her and off we went. I suppose we were both right – there were a smattering of bluebells splashing their delicate violet-blue about but not yet the expansive wall to wall carpet which is always such a gorgeous sight. I guess they’ll be at their peak this week so we’ll have to go again.
Interesting fact about bluebells: Bluebells were important in medieval wars. The English Bluebell’s sap is sticky and made an ideal glue for fastening flight feathers to arrows fired by medieval archers.
I coasted into San Francisco on my virtual Pacific Coast Bike Ride on Tuesday. 1164 miles down and a mere 660 miles or so to go. Where shall I go when I’ve finished this expedition? Suggestions always welcome.
From time to time I distract myself by investigating our family tree. Having not picked it up for a few months, I dived back in again earlier this week and began tracing some of the leads I had received in the meantime.
Alongside this, I must remind you all of an incident in, apparently, April 2013, when Annabelle was about 18 months old. She was just on the verge of speaking and, on one visit to us in Byfield, she spotted Penny at the front door as Nick unloaded her from the car. “Gamma,” she shouted. Then, she spotted me and shouted, “Crappo!”
As you can imagine, I was delighted and hoped that this might become the preferred form of greeting from all our future grandchildren. Thankfully, no doubt, for my daughters-in-law’s sake, the moniker did not stick and I’ve been plain, old “Grandpa” ever since.
So, you can perhaps imagine my delight to discover that we do have a connection in the far, far reaches of the spider web that is our family tree to one Nicholas Crapeau, born in Bordeaux, France in 1642. Nicholas and his wife, Ormand, and at least two of their children, Francis and Pierre, immigrated to the Massachusetts Colony and settled in the town of Rochester, MA in Plymouth County. Pierre married Penelope White and their son Peter married Eleanor Taber, sister of Sarah Taber. Sarah married Peregrine Merrihew and it is from this line that we are all descended. So, it looks like Annabelle was marvellously prescient and my grandchildren should, indeed, be calling me Crappo!
We know that for many/most politicians, being “economical” with the truth is their default setting. We also know that our Prime Minister is an inveterate liar having been sacked from a number of jobs because of his inability to admit to the truth when questioned. We also know that some/many/most(?) politicians are corrupt, feathering their own nest while allegedly serving the public. Most politicians are also, it seems to me, pretty dim. What our Prime Minister and many other politicians have failed to grasp is that it’s the lies and cover-up that get you in the end, not the original offence.
Boris is accused of having some Conservative Party grandees pay for the refurbishment of the flat in Downing Street in which he lives with his fiancée. Unfortunately, such a plan would be a breach of the regulations and would constitute a gift or a loan which would need to be declared. Sadly, no such declaration was ever made.
His fiancée clearly has fairly expensive tastes (wallpaper at £800 per roll, a £9,000 sofa – the list goes on and on. Reports suggest the bill for the work could be as high as £200,000). Imagine spending £200,000 on renovations to a flat!
If he had held his hands up and admitted that “Yes” someone else paid the initial costs of the renovations but that he has now, after all the brouhaha, re-paid those costs, he would have received a slap on the wrist, told not to be a naughty boy and not to do it again. However, Boris seems incapable of putting his hands up and insists on answering every question he is asked, including the very specific “Who paid the initial invoice?” with a statement that he has paid the full cost himself.
He was not happy when the Electoral Commission announced an investigation:
We are now satisfied that there are reasonable grounds to suspect that an offence or offences may have occurred.
The Electoral Commission on the refurbishment of the PM’s Downing Street flat
It’s the cover-up that gets you.
More success in the land of learning for our Jessica – another maths sticker.
It’s easy, she explained to me. There were four children playing a game, Grandpa, and five more children came to join them. How many were there all together? The answer is nine!
And while a proud grandfather is extolling his bright and beautiful granddaughters, did I mention that Annabelle had won the village Spring Garden Photography competition? Well, they used her winning photo for the flyer for next Saturday’s Morton Pinkney Garden Sale and Café. Nick mentioned something about negotiating a percentage of the sale for the rights to Annabelle’s photo – I’ll take it up with the committee.
And finally, while I am busy fantasising about cycling all over the world through my virtual adventures, some folks really have exciting hobbies. Did you read about the man from Bromley who made it his quest to park in every single parking space in his local Sainsbury car park?
Some people have all the fun!
Meanwhile, keep happy, keep smiling, keep isolating as much as you can, wear a facemask when you go out and keep your distance. And keep safe.
Lots of love to you all,
Greg