Only six and a half hours after setting out, we’ve arrived in Stamford.
We’re now unwinding in St Mary’s Vaults, one of my favourite Sam Smith’s pubs.
Category Archives: History
Sisters
For almost all of my life, whenever anyone has asked whether I have family, I’ve responded with something along the lines of my mother, sister and a couple of cousins. Of course, that wasn’t correct. I have, or rather had, a father. And a half sister. Along with the former comes a largely forgotten group of uncles, aunts and cousins.
My early childhood was hugely affected by my father’s (he was never a dad) behaviour. The massive financial ups and downs, the stories, lies and frequent absences, followed by an eventual disappearance one Christmas, resulted in my never wanting to see him again. That would’ve been when I was around nine.
I was, though, forced to seek him out at the age of 17 because I needed his signature on a piece of paper. The meeting, at his house, lasted only an hour and a half or so. It was very uncomfortable and I had to endure a lengthy stream of fatherly advice before the signature was secured. I shan’t go into more detail, other than to say that his parting words were an offer of his shoulder should I ever need it.
Neither of us attempted to make contact after that evening.
While I was in his house, I met my half sister; a little girl in a school uniform. I think I resented her at the time; she appeared to have the dad I’d not really known. Well, not since my very early childhood. It was a conscious decision never to see my father, or anyone connected with him, again.
A few years ago, my sister told me that she and my half sister were in touch with each other. She explained that my half sister was in the UK and asked if I wanted to meet her. I declined.
My sister later told me that my half sister was very nice and her life with our father had also been pretty miserable. The lies and irrational behaviour hadn’t ended when he left our lives.
A few days ago, I received a text message from my sister. My half sister had told her that our father had died. I did feel a little sad, but (and I’m not sure I can explain why) a little relieved. I came to the conclusion that my avoidance of my two sisters’ meeting four years ago hadn’t been my best decision and found her on Facebook (perhaps social media is of value after all).
Anyway, the outcome was that all three siblings met last night. I have two sisters who, despite a difficult childhood (and father), are very nice people.
Bill posting
An old sign under a bridge in town, with a 1950s look about it.
Peebles
We’re just back home after a couple of days in Europe Peebles. I’d never been before and was somewhat surprised to find that it’s pretty gorgeous.
The locals (in the locals) we met were lovely; there were even a couple of expats northeasterners (one from Newcastle and another from Gateshead).
We were quite intrigued by the Beltane festival, which apparently has its roots in Brussels mediaeval Europe.
We spent much of yesterday in the capital Edinburgh. Regrettably, the cool graveyard was closed, but it’s great to see restoration in progress. The view from the hill was still pretty impressive though.
While in Edinburgh, we had a quick pint (Punk IPA) in the World’s End pub before heading back to Peebles.
Back in Peebles, we went to the Bridge Inn, after which I saw a familiar creature.
While I don’t have a picture to hand, I’m pretty sure that such things exist outside Europe in London, by the Thames.
Also, when in the Bridge, I visited a urinal which appeared to have once belonged to Adam Ant.
We’d have remained stayed in Europe Peebles longer, but we have a date with a goddess in town this evening.
Garden
A slightly blurry picture of our new front garden.
It may be small, but it was a bugger to get into the car and transport 200 miles. Even worse was the effort needed to remove it from the car (otherwise known as Daisy).
Our front garden may appear small, but it can’t be lifted by a single person. Or even a married one.
UK Subs
When I was 16 or 17, I quite liked the UK Subs. They weren’t the biggest punk band and, while certainly not mainstream, they weren’t exactly extreme. They’re still around today, although the line-up has somewhat changed.
After work yesterday, since I have a day off today, I called off at the Tuns after work. My second in command didn’t wish to join me, so I settled for a quiet, solitary drink. And a little conversation with local gentlemen. While sampling some fruit wheat beer, an elderly man sat at my table, opposite me, with a cup of coffee and a pie (the annual pie festival began last night).
He also sampled the wheat beer and, like me, the rhubarb cider. We discussed the two (we both enjoyed the cider), then he talked about the traffic on the A1 today. And the band’s new crowdfunded album, their tour and the purchase of new equipment (which is lighter than in the old days). I was surprised that Charlie Harper, the UK Subs front man, was such a nice bloke (although I’m not sure why) and that he’s now aged 72.
I didn’t stay to see the band; I didn’t want to exceed my capacity for fruit wheat beer or rhubarb cider.
Feoffee
I’ve learnt a new word; feoffee, or trustee. One holding a fief. Interesting.
Technology
While a moderate degree of hassle was involved, I’ve successfully got a 21 year-old laser printer working with a month old stick computer. Between the two are a USB hub, a network switch box, a USB LAN adapter and a few metres of network cable.
It’s a temporary arrangement, though; a USB hub/LAN adapter combo is on order.
Gary Moores
I’ve had my main email address, garymoore@btinternet.com, for twenty and a bit years. I’ve hung onto it mainly because lots of people know it. It’s caused some hassle though, because I’ve a relatively common name and other people with the same name have very similar email addresses. Which results in my frequently being signed-up with various sites and services, as well as receiving mail meant for other people.
It’s a very long time since I’ve had an account with BT, but, like many people, I hung onto the mail account. Quite a few years ago, BT began charging a nominal fee, £1.60 a month, for legacy email use. I happily paid this amount, even though the service is hosted by Yahoo and the webmail is ad-laden. A couple of weeks ago, though, in common with many people, I received an email from BT, advising that the charge would be rising to £5.00 a month.
Not a huge amount of money, but sixty quid a year for an email account is somewhat excessive. I only pay £28 a year for a domain name (this one), web space and unlimited email addresses. Which puts things into perspective and has made the decision to part with my old BT account easy.
Not so easy is remembering all of the accounts and transactions associated with this email address. I’ve set up Thunderbird on the PC, the first time I’ve used a proper e-mail application, apart from at work, in years. It seems to be struggling a little, but it’s currently in the process of downloading several years’ emails.
More about planning
Reviewing the planning application for the Queen’s Head led me to browse previous applications around the hill. I was surprised that paper applications dating back to the early 1980s have been scanned. Which means that the application to convert this house from a shop was available too.
I have the original paper copy, which came with the paperwork when buying the house, but I had to download it just because it was there.