Meriden

Following remembering about Meriden yesterday, in the margins of reference 1, this afternoon I thought to look the place up, and it turns out to rate an interesting entry in Wikipedia at reference 2.

In no particular order.

The Bull's Head is where it says 'Post Office'. The place called 'Hotel' is a Best Western.

An old village, dating back to Mercia, before the Conquest. The present church, which is indeed on a slight eminence, lower middle in the snap, was first built towards the end of the 12th century, on the site of a church built on her own land by the famous Lady Godiva. The site of the old village, then called Alspath, since mutated down the road to Meriden: presumably the two houses of this name were built by antiquarian types.

The village was indeed thought to be the geographical centre of England, that is to say the centre of gravity of a plywood cut-out, a thought sadly demolished by the Ordnance Survey in 1920. The cross, where it says cross in gothic letters, marks the spot.

The village was famous for cyclists, being the site of a memorial to the cyclists who were killed in the first world war. Presumably chaps carrying messages on tracks and roads just behind the front lines.

And lastly, the village was famous for motor-cyclists, being the site of the Triumph motor cycle factory, relocated from Coventry during the second world war. It finally closed in the early 1980's, being replaced by what Agatha would have called the development. Above Millison's Wood, bottom right, well outside the village proper.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/forensic-science-service.html.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meriden,_West_Midlands.

Reference 3: https://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.com/search?q=meriden. It looks as if I was much more relaxed about the FSS privatisation at the time it happened. The one and only mention of the place.

Another stalled construction project

Yet another stalled construction project. This one a small block of flats opposite what used to be Alio's fine delicatessen, southern Italy flavoured. A project from Zestan, the people responsible for the much larger blocks of flats down Court Lane, previously noticed, for example, at reference 1. Still, I am told, empty apart from the eastern European construction workers who have been allowed by the eastern European owner to doss down there. But I ought to check for myself, rather than relying on gossip.

A snap taken with my back to Zestan's new headquarters in part of what was said delicatessen, the part that the council said, quite wrongly to my mind, had to stay in commercial use. So at least the headquarters' workers will know about the eyesore. They might even get pestered by irritated neighbours.

PS 1: Cortana did quite well, given that the camera on the telephone was pointing towards the sun, not quite visible below the top left hand corner of the block. Only evidence of which being the very neat halo, not visible to the naked eye...

PS 2: another blunder. I had thought that the lane was Courthouse Lane rather than Court Lane, named for the one-time presence of a court house. Overlooking the fact that the lane led to Court Recreation Ground, named for the Court Farm of which it was once part. Which has only just dawned on me.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/06/near-completion-of-heritage-wall.html.

Trolley 341

Two trolleys from the M&S food hall captured in the Ashmore passage. Stacks in the shop pretty full at around 1030 when I returned these two. Saturday rush clearly not started in earnest.

I was pleased to see that the cover to the man trap - that is to say drain inspection hole - visible behind the trolleys - was back in place this morning. At night, with a few beverages taken, it would be easy enough to put a foot down it.

An unusual example of mind's control over matter

Once upon a time, I was on an outdoor course in mid Wales, a course which involved a five day group walk across the modest mountains running down from Harlech to Aberdovey, taking in Cader Idris on the way. Now Cadair Idris.

At some point, our leader, probably or at least possibly a semi-professional mountain climber, told us a story about how he woke up in the morning, when out in the wilds. So, he would get into his sleeping bag in the evening and decide when he wanted to be up in the morning, say 0500 or 0600, with mountaineers liking to start early. He would then look at his watch. And then he would tap the side of his head on the pillow the appropriate number of times. Five times for 0500, six times for 0600 or whatever. Note that he is specifying the clock time, a point in time, not the interval, not the number of elapsed hours. He would then go to sleep and wake up at the designated time, without the help of an alarm clock. He told us that he found this a pretty reliable way of getting up in the morning at the right time.

For present purposes, we suppose that he could really do this. That one had tested him on various occasions with various times, in various conditions of weather and light – it being possible that for these purposes the brain uses cues from these conditions.

An ability which is unusual on at least three counts.

First, he was exerting mind control over a bodily function which one does not usually think of having any such control over. So, for example, while one can learn, perhaps by means of breathing exercises, to slow one’s heart down and some people can learn to go to sleep in fairly short order, most minds cannot waggle the ears, although the necessary machinery is all present and correct. Most minds cannot control a blush. Most minds do not have very good control over individual fingers, in the way of a violist or a pianist. And the conscious mind can’t control the workings of the liver or the lights.

Second, the brain was exerting this control at some hours remove. It is one thing for the brain to get on and do something – but it is quite another matter for it to store up the necessary command in memory and then to activate it some time later. And in order to do something like this, the brain must in some limited way keep a personal calendar, in the way of a smart phone. A calendar which it checks against a clock every few seconds, to see if it needs to send out an alarm call, or whatever. Perhaps limited in the sense that it can only manage to track the status of one alarm call at a time. Perhaps people with really big grains can manage two.

Third, if it was not doing absolute time in the way of you or I, it was doing relative time, elapsed time, it must have been doing sums. It must have been converting the wake up time into something the brain did understand, perhaps the elapsed time in seconds, heartbeats or something. To which end the brain did have the necessary information as, before going to sleep, the mountaineer both decided the time to wake up and checked the time by looking at his watch. Maybe the head tapping was another part of the input to this sum?

I associate to the electrical circuits called delay lines. Maybe they are relevant here? Can they do milliyears rather than milliseconds? Reference 1 rather suggests not.

Does the brain include instead a reliable oscillator coupled to a counter? And a gadget which can keep comparing the count with the target – and which, in consequence, knows when to stop? Or does it fill some chemical tank to some appropriate level, set it to dripping and then raise an alarm when the tank is empty, when the dripping stops?

There is also the consideration that for all this to work one needs to make a conscious decision about the time one wants to wake up, the time one wants to be called. A conscious decision which is translated into taps of the head on the pillow. With the outcome being checked on waking. Perhaps one needs a conscious decision to muster the considerable neural energy needed to do this thing?

Then the consideration that the alarm call involves more than just projecting some thought or message into consciousness. It has to activate the physiology needed to wake someone up, to move them from unconsciousness to consciousness, to a state in which thoughts and messages can be received. But this sort of thing, at least, the brain does all the time: it has no trouble converting thought into the physiology which drives the hands and feet. Or, to give an unconscious example, the state of digestion into appropriate contractions of the intestines.

I seem to remember reading that some eastern gurus can exert mind control over bodily functions that we in the west have no control over. And that is about it. I do not recall anything else along the lines outlined above. But, assuming there is some foundation in fact in my story, one would have thought that someone, somewhere, would have taken a look - so I would be interested to be pointed in the right direction.

Reference 1: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Analog_delay_line.

Forensic Science Service

Once upon a time, this country had something called a Forensic Science Service, headquartered at one time at Trident Court on the Birmingham Business Park near Meriden, a place which is the centre of gravity of England - perhaps taken together with some of the other constituents of the once united kingdom. Also, I think, something to do with cycling in days gone by. With Meriden being the place where I used to stay when I was visiting Trident Court, more particularly at the Bull's Head (reference 1). There is also an old church, oddly placed on a small hill nearby and floodlit at night.

This Forensic Science Service was closed down about ten years ago, to be replaced by a collection of smaller operations, mostly privatised. See reference 2.

All this by way of preamble to advertisement of an article in this week's number of the NYRB about the state of forensic science in the US, where forensic science is largely in state hands, largely privatised and far too cosy with police and prosecutors. And without any central oversight of methods and standards, not very scientific, despite the grand language often deployed in court. It all looks like a bit of a disaster. Criminal Justice on the cheap, with the report on the whole sorry business at reference 3 having been largely shelved by Trump on account of being something from the Obama stable. Freely available to all - but will anyone in our austerised (or perhaps Bullingdonned) Ministry of Justice have the time to read it?

From where I associate to the once popular radio programme called 'The Men from the Ministry'.

The article is written by one Jed S. Rakoff, a district judge in New York who has written extensively for the NYRB.

Reference 1: https://www.thebullsheadmeriden.co.uk.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forensic_Science_Service.

Reference 3: Report to the President: Forensic Science in Criminal Courts: Ensuring Scientific Validity of Feature-Comparison Methods - Executive Office of the President President’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology - 2016.

Express building

I first noticed the prefab going up in a road near us towards the end of August, then again at the end of September, this last at reference 1.

I can now report that, three months into this express building project - with my having thought that one of the points of prefab was express - we have got as far as a raft on which to build the thing. There are also an impressive number of drain covers, which makes me slightly cross with myself that I did not work harder to get at least one of the many cast iron drain covers that must, by now, have been removed. Sadly, there never seemed to be a good moment to ask.

And unless they have parked the portaloo on top of the entrance to the cellar, one can only suppose that the entrance - that is to say the hole in the raft - is in the cage behind. It seems most unlikely that there would be anything other than a hole at this stage. Hopefully covered, so that the cellar is not full of water, vermin and windblown rubbish by they time they get around to finishing it.

Maybe a move-in over Easter?

PS: hopefully also, the tilt of the raft is due to the tilt of a telephone held up against the wire mesh, rather than to any failure of their Dumpy Levels.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/09/people-who-are-loaded.html.

A contribution from Google

A short while ago, I saw fit to include a slightly dodgy picture in the post at reference 1.

Google seems to have taken this as a hint, and more of the same having been popping up in the margins of all kinds of otherwise innocuous websites - innocuous except in that they have chosen to make some money by renting out some of their space to Google.

One of Google's offerings brought this picture to mind, seen by us in January 2015 and noticed at reference 2. We were grateful to the Mexican entrepreneur who had made this possible.

But I am pleased to be able to report that in the margins of turning all this up, I learned that, in some contexts at least, you can ask Google to turn particular advertisements off. Which I have done, and we will see.

Also that I have been intrigued in the past few days to read of Google's first steps in the world. Steps which were helped along by their learning how to find the eigenvalues of the very large matrix which describes the links between all the stuff out there on the Internet. With the keywords here being Perron-Frobenius and PageRank. And with the driver here being the notion that a page was more important if lots of other people pointed at it, without any regard for what it might be saying, this last being much harder to pass judgement on. I vaguely remember knowing about this at the time they made the switch, well over a decade ago now.

PS: statistics about the number of websites are much easier to find than statistics about the number of pages, and a lot of what there is marketing orientated, but the answer seems to be that there are around thirty trillion pages. That is to say thirty million million. Can they really find the eigenvalues for a square matrix of this size? Maybe page is not a useful concept in this context any more? Time to read reference 4...

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/last-post-for-tippett.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/2015/01/leighton-house.html.

Reference 3: The Roses of Heliogabalus - Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema - 1888.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Web_page.

Auto-tweets

Regarding the Bentley noticed at reference 1, it does not seem to be a good indicator for either the state of the world or that of the planet, that there should be a car, which costs somewhere £140,000 and £190,000 (depending on model) and which is described as 'a 2.4-tonne, four-wheel-drive Bentley SUV that’ll do 187mph'.

And regarding the rich men who buy such things, it is ironic that while the Corbie doesn't like the European Union because it seemed to him, at the time he made his mind up, to be a benefit club for the rich, many of the rich don't like the European Union because it seems to them to be a benefit club for the poor.

PS: the snap, taken from Bentley's very own website, perhaps suggests what this car is really for. An upscale version of the well known Chelsea Tractor. For showing off in town. As indeed the one that I saw was - showing off outside the fancy club in Dover Street, in Mayfair. About as off-off-road as you can get.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/little-green-men.html.

Trolley 340

A Sainsbury's trolley, captured at the bus stop a little to the Ewell side of the exit from Kiln Lane. Wheel lock present but not deployed.

The lines for both regular and large trolleys were looking good when I got to the front entrance. Perhaps having two trolley jockeys on duty made all the difference. At least, two that I saw.

Trolley 339

This M&S food hall trolley was captured in the Ashmore passage this morning. Returned to the stack, where there was just one left of this size, full of what looked like shop generated litter, possibly plastic bags for fruit and vegetables. So a timely return.

Little green men

The Christmas menu

Otherwise, the search for extra-terrestrial intelligence, otherwise SETI. For this, last week to the Royal Institution to hear a science flavoured journalist and writer called Keith Cooper promote his new book, 'The Contact Paradox'.

Entertained on the way by a herd of older ladies out for a jolly on the train and by a younger lady with elaborate dress and makeup on the tube. Elaborate which involved doing something complicated with the hair, the eyebrows and the finger nails. Which must have taken some time and effort to achieve - but it was worth it!

To the Goat to find that Greene King have taken Quickie of the menu and I had to settle for a glass of the stuff noticed in Epsom at reference 3. Is the new owner from the Far East already having an impact?

The book

At the Institution, about two thirds full. Lots of older men, not exactly wearing duffel coats, but tendencies in that direction and lots of younger women. As it turned out, the Prime Directive from Star Trek about non interference was very much in their minds. For readers who need to be reminded about this directive, there is always reference 4 from Wikipedia.

A rather irritating MC, who spoke too fast. Apparently we have had him before, but I don't recall. A speaker whose dress was irritatingly casual for such a lecture hall, with such a heritage. His talk was not that clever either, with rather more information to be found in his article at reference 2. And a lot of the questions at the end were rather silly. Which included some stuff about how difficult it would be to translate any message from little green men from whatever they did into English. While I recall something about using your very expensive radio telescope to pump out lots of copies of numbers like π (3.141592653589793238462...) and e (2.7182818284590452353602874713526...) out there, or maybe just the sequence of natural numbers, on the grounds that anyone with a telescope was likely to be able to work them out.

The equation

But he did talk about the Drake equation, snapped left, a useful framework on which to hang things. From which the take away for me was that contact was rather unlikely, at least at the present state of the art. The distances and times involved were just too long. Any signals all too likely to break up. It may well be that there is life out there, but we will be lucky if we see it. That a big enough telescope will be pointing in just the right direction and listening in at just the right frequency for long enough to catch something. And even if we do, what then?

Out to catch a Bentley SUV in Davies Street outside the Arts Club, possibly a Bentayga. Probably dearer than the Maserati version I saw recently and noticed at reference 7, but which turned out to cost less than a Range Rover. Are rich people into pretending that they go yomping out in the wilderness, or are the luxury goods companies trying to milk a bigger market?

Into the tube, to find another lady who had gone to a great deal of trouble with her appearance. But amusing because, while her head was properly covered with an expensive looking, but plain headscarf, she was also sporting a fair bit of handsome thigh between the folds of her other clothes. Not sure whether her dress would have satisfied her Imam. Her husband certainly seemed like a rather bad-tempered specimen.

And so to the Halfway House at Earlsfield for a spot of refreshment. Including, on this occasion, a couple of their sausage rolls, substantial affairs, quite reasonably priced. Good that public houses seem to be cottoning onto the idea that the is a demand for proper snacks, somewhere between a bag of nuts for 10p and a main meal for £10. We may even get back to the rolls, sandwiches and pies of my youth.

We also picked up a copy of their Christmas menu, snapped above, a much grander affair than the one we had picked up from the Goat earlier. Clearly a Youngs-wide effort, lightly customised for this particular establishment, with Christmas lunch coming in at £65 a head, exclusive of booze. Not my thing particularly, but clearly becoming increasingly popular with a lot of the pubs that do food offering one. With one benefit being that it gives all those young people who find family Christmas a bit stifling, paid employment outside the house, so killing two birds with one stone. Three, if you allow a bit of fun in the margins.

PS: my Microsoft phone had been giving trouble with its charge during the day, so I was interested to find that if I went into Settings, I could find out where all the power was going. And it turned out that the Photos and OneDrive applications were taking about 75% of it. Not sure whether that included the camera itself, but it certainly looked as if image processing and image movement was a drain on resources. This including the copying of images captured on my computer at home on to the telephone at large, which I don't particularly need. So mostly good stuff, but not a free lunch.

Reference 1: https://astronomynow.com/. I go the idea that Cooper was the editor of this magazine, but while he clearly writes for it, unable to confirm the idea.

Reference 2: https://www.astronomynow.com/news/n1004/26seti5/.

Reference 3: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/09/celebration.html.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prime_Directive.

Reference 5: https://www.theartsclub.co.uk/. I had always assumed that this place was a gambling club for the rich, well suited to its location opposite the outpost of the Government of the Cayman Islands of reference 6. But I find no gambling here, only a cigar lounge. One law for the rich and another for the rest of us?

Reference 6: https://www.cigouk.ky/.

Reference 7: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/posh-car.html.

Fake 91

BH is presently slimming and today she was decorating her rice cracker - or perhaps the pale yellow version called a lentil cracker - with some white gear called quark. White gear which looked a bit like yoghourt and which claimed both to be cheese and to be fat free. Which I thought was a nonsense and fully deserved to be flagged as a fake.

While she claims in her defence that German cake makers are very keen on the stuff, making extensive use of it to fill up pastry cases of one sort or another.

While I turn up Wikipedia at reference 1, to learn that quark is a well known food from central and eastern Europe with a fat content varying between 1% and 40% - this last number being achieved by adulteration with cream.

We then get to read the ingredients of the fat free quark, from which we learn that the fat has been replaced by sugar and other carbohydrates. After which BH points out that you can't possibly make a credible white spread which involves neither sugar not fat.

So a bit of nonsense which adds up to - guessing - half of one side of an aisle of stuff in Kiln Lane Sainsbury's. And we wonder why the world is overheating. Not to mention the people in it.

Reference 1: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quark.

Exotic flour

Attentive readers will recall that I bought some exotic flour in October, from a water mill on the Devon-Dorset border, as found at reference 2 and as noticed at reference 1. Flour which has now reached the top of the heap and was tried out for the first time yesterday. Batch 539. That is to say I used 12 ounces of the stuff to health-up the 40 ounces of Canadian white, instead of the usual 12 ounces of Canadian stoneground wholemeal, from Waitrose.

The dough was very soft and silky. The first rise was fast, three and a half hours as opposed to the usual four. Second knead normal. The second rise was very slow, four and a quarter hours as opposed to the usual two or three. Furthermore, the tops of the loaves were a little lumpy, rather than smoothly rounded. And then, instead of rising a bit more during the cooking, while shrinking away from the sides of the tins, these loaves sank a bit during the cooking and shrunk away from the sides of the tins. With some residual lumpiness visible right.

But an hour out of the oven the bread tasted very good, with a rather different crumb. Not better or worse in that regard, just different.

We will see how we get on as the first loaf proceeds. And how will the second loaf thaw? Will I be tweaking the recipe slightly for the next batch? Will we be buying any more of this flour next time we are in range of the water mill?

In the meantime, I shall wonder about what stoneground wholemeal from Canada means. Do they have modern factories using stone wheels for grinding, rather than the more usual steel rollers? Or do they still do water mills in Canada? I shall also wonder about the stone content of the flour, with the stones needing to be sharpened every few months, with all the stone grindings presumably getting lost in the flour. Whatever would the health and safety people say if they knew? A problem which does not arise with steel rollers, with there being no iron filings that I am aware of.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/10/to-lyme-regis.html.

Reference 2: https://www.townmill.org.uk/.

Politics

I have told various people of my intention of voting Labour, despite my reservations about Corbie. At least he is decent, if not very effective.

But this lunch time we get a flier from the Liberals, who tell me that they came a decent second to the Conservatives (failin' graylin') at the recent European elections here at Epsom. And that the combined votes for Liberal, Labour and Green comfortably exceeded the Conservative vote. A reasonably clear case for tactical voting, despite my reservations about Swinson. A bit too much like the lady who leads the North Britons for my taste.

So for the moment, tactical voting and Liberal are in, Labour are out. A degree of consistency here, in that I voted Liberal at these European elections, mainly on the grounds that they were the only party to back remain.

Then today another candidate volte-face. I have been ban the bomb, unilateral nuclear disarmament and CND since I was an adolescent. Even went on the odd Aldermaston march. But I read this morning in the climate change book noticed only yesterday at reference 2, that when the chips are down and millions of migrants are pouring out of the flooding delta lands of the Indian subcontinent, their reasonably near neighbours in the Middle East, many of them flush with the oil money which made the floods in the first place, might well want nuclear weapons with which to face the future. Perhaps to use to parlay for food or land. Perhaps to face down the countries from which the migrants are coming. And as things stand, I don't think we would be able to stop them. Israel today, Iran tomorrow, Saudi Arabia the day after. Who knows who else.

And with people like that joining the nuclear club, maybe not such a good time to be leaving it. Plus, it is less than 15% of our defence budget, say £5b a year from a defence total of £40b from a UK GDP of £2,000b. See reference 3. Plus, I imagine there is helpful spin-off for the civil nuclear industry, in which I continue to believe. Better bad stuff down some very deep hole in Cumbria than carbon dioxide at 1,000ppm in the sky - a level not seen since the Eocene. For which see reference 4.

Still mulling over this one. I might even confer with one or two people.

PS: the lady who leads the North Britons was telling the newspapers only the other day, that she was a nuclear disarmer. Maybe the problem is that we keep said armaments near Glasgow. No problem if we relocated them to the Mersey or Milford Haven. And what about Scapa Flow, home fleet anchorage at the time of the First World War?

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/05/duty-done.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/amusement.html.

Reference 3: How much do we spend on nuclear weapons - Ian Davis for the British American Security Information Council - 2018. Perhaps a source with an axe to grind, but at least it is a source. The figures do look to be there - if I could get around to reading them.

Reference 4: a 40-million-year history of atmospheric CO2 - Yi Ge Zhang , Mark Pagani , Zhonghui Liu , Steven M. Bohaty and Robert DeConto - 2013. The source of the snap above: 'Figure 3. A comparison of alkenone-based pCO2 composite from multiple marine sites as compiled in the study of Pagani et al. and ODP Site 925 record since the Late Eocene. Antarctic glaciation thresholds (approx. 750 ppm) and Northern Hemisphere glaciation threshold (approx. 280 ppm) deduced from climate models are marked by dashed lines'. All very tricky - but the bottom line looks clear enough: there was a lot more of the stuff back in the Eocene - when things were very different to what they are now.

Lincolnshire Poacher

Cheese stocks had got low by the beginning of last week, so a visit to London Town was called for, despite that Wednesday being a cold and dreary day, with lots of leaves having been knocked down by the rain overnight.

Just the one Bullingdon

Something wrong with the trains, so the Waterloo train went via Putney. For the first time ever, I got a glimpse of a construction worker on top of what had been the turbine hall of Battersea Power Station, a refurbishment which seems to have been on go-slow for years now. A go-slow involving lots of stationary tower cranes. But perhaps the refurbishment really is grinding to a conclusion. Then through the wrong platform at Vauxhall, slowing down as if to stop, but failing so to do. And so on to Waterloo.

Not a lot of Bullingdons on the ramp, but there was one that worked towards the bottom and I made it to the Grand Temple in the fast time of 7 minutes and 23 seconds. Records not as thick on the ground as I had thought, but the most recent that I could find, from May, logged the journey at 11 minutes and 36 seconds, a rather unlikely sounding increase over such a short distance. But computers never lie do they?

To the cheese shop in Short's Gardens for my regular ration of Poacher, two pieces of about a pound each, on this occasion coming to a touch more than a kilogram. Then there was a small sack of rather organic looking walnuts, said to be from France, so having not got on very well on their hazel nuts, I took a chance on a pound of their walnuts, reasonably priced at £4 or so. Which meant that, for the first time in quite a long time, I had to take a new plastic bag, one of the small, sturdy bags which do sterling service at picnics in and around the Wigmore Hall.

Two tourists in the shop, perhaps French, spending a lot of time tasting lots of different cheeses. Not at all clear that they were going to end up spending much money, but I suppose that if you are a fancy cheese shop, tasting tourists is just one of the overheads. Maybe they pull in more of the same just by being there.

Recto

Verso

From the sky

Down to Terroirs for a spot of lunch, where we were surprised to find the place busy and near full, this being a mid-week lunchtime. The theory was advanced that places like Terroirs do most of their business in November and December, coasting for the rest of the year. Maybe I will manage one more visit this year to check?

Started with bread. Thought about onglet but could not remember what it was, beyond that I had rather liked it when I had had it (no reception so unable to check the record, even had I been so minded; the sort of thing one should do at home, with a proper computer), so settled for green lentils with a couple of strips of duck draped across the top of the pile, with extra bread. I could not remember what wine I had last time, so opted for something new, which turned out rather well. Probably the people at reference 1, probably the red cup in the middle of the snap above. Les Vignes de Paradis, IGP vin des Allobroges Savagnin - 2018. With 'IGP' being a bit of euro speak standing for 'Indication Géographique Protégée'. With the vineyard being a bit of France, tucked in up against the Swiss border, a little to the north east of Geneva.

After all this lot a bit full and so almost passed on pudding, but in the end went for another portion of their Schlossberger cheese, from just up the road from Emmenthal. With still more white bread. Rounded off with a couple of walnuts from up the road here in London and a spot of the now traditional Calvados. Both very good. The waiter did not seem to understand the concept of nut crackers, but when I waved a walnut at him, he simply inserted a knife into the end and twisted. Job done. Something I should have thought of myself, but perhaps the wine was starting to do its work.

Wetherspoon's shares

We spend some breath on Mr. Wetherspoon, a very successful public house entrepreneur who probably employs thousands of people from Europe but who campaigns for Brexit, to the extent of spending his company's money on Brexit beermats and other promotional material. A spending for which he was recently rebuked, not having been thought to have properly asked his shareholders about it. While at Terroirs, the theory was advanced that his stance was just a stunt, a theory which I pooh-poohed at the time, but now I am not so sure. Thinking about it some more, he might have just come to his Brexit view in his cups and then stuck to his guns - partly because he likes to make a splash, partly to show that he could do what he like with what he no doubt regards as his company - and partly for the publicity, publicity on which he no doubt thrives. The flamboyant entrepreneur.

Exercise bike

Outside to snap a bicycle which I would have thought rather hard work, despite what looked like battery assistance. I would also have thought rather dangerous in traffic, quite difficult to control.

Discrete pattern

I noticed, for what must be the first time for a while, the discrete pattern of the limestone cladding to the flank walls of the Festival Hall. Rather handsome. A building which, for me, remains a good example of post war architecture - before it all went to pot in the 1970's.

Non-scoring piano

Inside the Hall, I snapped what looked like a good quality upright piano in something called the Cube - but neither the ticket office people nor the welcome people were able to tell me the make - so no score on this occasion.

Paper chains

Walnuts

Turned up various opportunities for a further beverage, but back at Epsom I did fall for the two trolleys noticed at reference 4, the return of which provided an opportunity to admire the large format paper chains that had been hung up in the Ashley Centre. With small format paper chains being the staple of Christmas decorations when I was a child. Chains which moved at some point onto lick and stick from the ones to which you had to apply your own glue from a bottle, which required both patience and practise.

Home to try some more of the walnuts. Much better than they looked, but a little bitter if you ate too many of them at one go. I shall buy some more if they still have them next time.

PS: if I had bought a share in Wetherspoon's every time I had had a drink in one of their houses - or even just the one at Tooting - over the past twenty five years, I would have done very nicely on capital growth, not so nicely on dividend income, presently running at below 1%. Perhaps Mr. Tim draws a very handsome salary instead. And, incidentally, a leader who has been in place for a very long time by the 'suit' standards of corporate governance. 10 years at the top and you're out being a good rule of thumb in most walks of life.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/tippett.html. The last visit to Terroirs.

Reference 2: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/09/cheese-hunt.html. The last visit to Terroirs involving onglet.

Reference 3: https://www.les-vignes-de-paradis.fr/. The grapes, presently on this home page, suggest to me why Snyders painted the grapes the way he did, the grapes that I complained of at the end of reference 5 below. Perhaps I don't see grapes outdoors, in sunlight, often enough.

Reference 4: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/trolley-333.html.

Reference 5: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/conspicuous-consumption.html.

Amusement

An amusing snippet from (page 174 of) the book about global warming over the last half billion or so years by Stephen Ward, last noticed at reference 1.

It seems that living in the tropics is pretty grim and most of the people condemned to live in them make use of what we call recreational drugs to get themselves through the heat of the day.

So in Fiji and the Western Pacific generally they use kava. Which has got a lot stronger by the time you get to the New Hebrides.

As we move across to Micronesia, the Philippines and Indonesia they use betel, sometimes supplemented with marijuana.

Across to India, the Middle East and North Africa where they use khat. While the equatorial regions to the south are lightened up by a tropical profusion of choice.

To the West Indies for more marijuana. And ending up in central and south America where they have coca.

And on top of all this heat, you also have lots of malaria. And no doubt other unpleasant tropical complaints.

I think Ward has been a bit careless with his facts here, but it makes an amusing story, and I dare say that there is more than a grain of truth in it. Beware of life on a tropical islands; they are not the paradises they might seem from a distance! Which accords with the rather mixed tales I have read from those westerners who have tried it over the past hundred years or so.

PS: there is, furthermore, no mention of opium, once fairly freely available in parts of the Far East. No mention of the alcohol, nicotine and caffeine favoured in cooler climes.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/09/a-message-from-plos.html.

On the murder of women

I was told at some point yesterday that French women are protesting the numbers of women in France that are murdered. Which got me thinking.

First thought was that most murder was committed by men, and a lot of that was to do with young men, drugs and crime. Second thought was that a lot of domestic and sex murders would be men killing women, with there being far fewer women killing men in this category. The third thought, much more tentative, was that there might be more men killing women in old fashioned, patriarchal societies. I then turn to the Internet, and Bing turns up two substantial articles in Wikipedia (references 1 and 2) and from one of these I get to the United Nations report at references 3a and 3b.

I now know that there is a great deal of murder in Central America, the Caribbean, parts of South America and parts of Southern Africa. While Western Europe has a lot less. The overall murder rate in France is something over one per 100,000 population per year, of which women account for around 40% of the victims, so as a proportion on the high side. With the global figures being something over six and 20% respectively. Nothing on patriarchal.

From which I draw two inferences. First, not enough so far to say whether or not the French women have a point. Second, it is all very complicated. A good deal of care and statistics would be needed to be able to say much more. So before I say any more, I had better have a look at reference 3a, to be found at reference 3b, which looks to involve both care and statistics. It is the source of the snap above.

But will I get around to it? One of a number of worthy but lengthy reports which I have come across in the recent past.

Reference 1: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homicide_statistics_by_gender.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_intentional_homicide_rate.

Reference 3a: Global Homicide Book - United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime - 2013.

Reference 3b: http://www.unodc.org/documents/gsh/pdfs/2014_GLOBAL_HOMICIDE_BOOK_web.pdf.

Grotto

Monday past to Polesden Lacey to get an early sighting of their Christmas decorations. Boned up a bit beforehand by reading Osbert Sitwell on the subject, he being a regular guest of Mrs. Greville's at Poleseden Lacey and elsewhere for most of the inter-war years. A convenient appendage for a lively widow?

Winter lights

Dull first thing, but bright enough by the time we got to Polesden at around 1100. To find the latest thing in portable lighting erected in the car park to this heritage attraction. Perhaps it would be more in the spirit of things to have trusty's wandering around in the dark, dressed up in dark cloaks and so forth and carrying large lanterns?

Winter sheds

Garnish

No Christmas operation can be said to be complete these days unless it includes a Christmas market, so some sheds had been wheeled in for the purpose, probably stocked from some even bigger shed somewhere in North Kent (estuary land). I was interested to see that the market business is now organised enough that there are special sheds for the purpose, complete with fork-lift truck friendly undercarriage. Makes getting them off the low loader so much easier. With a bit of garnish to the sheds being provided by a yellow camper van, last seen at Hobbledown. Or at least one very like it. See reference 1.

First stop the cafeteria, a large part of which was laid out for Christmas Lunch for the trusty's. Of which we learned there were around 800, 100 or so of whom were outdoor, presumably necessitating a substantial personnel operation, staffed with salaried staff. Can't expect volunteers to do that sort of thing. But with 800 of them, they must be running their Christmas Lunches for a fortnight or so.

The power is coming!

Just past the camper van, there were two busy men in a hole, doing something electrical. Presumably providing power for all the sheds. Power which was being led in from the main house by a substantial trench along the edge of one of the lawns. Part of the price we pay for going early, before everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion.

Grotto tableau one

Into the house to find that the interior had been transformed into a Christmas Grotto, not that far removed from the large Grotto operation at Chessington Garden Centre, for which see reference 2. As is now the custom, the trusty's were dressed up in the fashion of Mrs. Greville's hey-day - and they had done their homework, well up for discourse on the various treasures and attractions of the house. Two of which have already been noticed under the group search key of pla - in which connection I had worried about search for 'pla' finding the many words which so start, like 'place'. Fortunately, I find this morning that blog search at least does whole word searching, so we don't get all the places and playgrounds.

Piety

Play

Along the way we took in some of the paintings. A rather mixed bag, but there were some that were very old (piety above) and some which amused (play above). We also took in some of the interesting china - perhaps porcelain? - but in the dark, grotto lighting, not so easy to see.

Caterpillar attack

Out to take a turn in the gardens, where we were pleased to find that they were doing their bit for the box tree caterpillar war. For which, for example, see reference 3.

Mushrooms

Late delphiniums

One of the rose beds did not have much in the way of roses - there were still some out - but it did have a good crop of mushrooms. Maybe they come in with the organic compost, possibly from one of the tenant farms around the estate. We also had some late delphiniums, flowers which I rather like but which I have never attempted to grow.

The cafeteria looked rather busy with the trusty's having their lunch, so BH elected to go the back way to the Stepping Stones public house, just by Box Hill & Westhumble railway station, underneath Box Hill. With Westhumble being rather an odd, strung out sort of place, with all kinds of odd buildings. See reference 4 for a taster. We were unlucky enough to meet a dustcart on the way, a smaller dustcart which was well suited the smaller road, but lucky enough that the driver reversed into a handy driveway, rather than sitting and waiting while I tried out my rather rusty reversing skills.

The Stepping Stones public house was possibly repurposed from something else (there was a rather odd, semi-detached chimney round the back) to work the Box Hill day tripping trade when the railway came to town and was probably substantially extended in the more recent past. But all that apart, we were greeted by a very cheerful and efficient barmaid, a lady of middle years.

Artefact?

Settled for pie and veg. The pie was average, almost certainly from a factory rather than made on the spot ('home made' in the jargon of the casual dining trade) and the vegetables were very good, unusually so for said casual dining. I think they even involved a spot of lightly boiled green cabbage. Once again, I forgot to ask for the gravy to be supplied in a jug, so I had rather more of that than I wanted. But, overall, very good. We may be back.

We had also wondered about the artefact snapped above. Was it some cult object from equatorial Africa? Was it a piece of our industrial heritage? We decided on the latter, with it being turned by means of the wooden gears of a water wheel, with belts driving machines of some sort being slipped over the two ends.

Threatening sky

Onto Ashtead to pick up the Guardian and bread rolls noticed at reference 5. Much banter along the way, no doubt fuelled by the wine from the Stepping Stones. Rather threatening sky over the M&S food hall, as seen from the car park. A food hall which is more like a shed from this side than it is from the front, where it is more faux old-style high street.

Major pot hole under the West Street railway bridge, a pot hole I would not care to have hit on a bicycle.

Mrs. Greville

Home to read our National Trust book about Mrs. Greville, to find that our copy, bought second hand from somewhere or other, had been signed by the author, one Siân Evans, a Welsh lady who specialises in this sort of thing. Unlike our Sitwell volumes, which no-one has signed. I was reminded that this beer heiress from Scotland made it her business to cultivate the royals, for which she clearly had both the money and the verve. To the point where the house was at one point destined to become the property of a royal younger son, perhaps the Lord Andrew of his day. A destiny which was not fulfilled as the house fell into the hands of the National Trust instead.

Reference 1: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/hobbledown.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2018/12/christmas-grotto.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/08/caterpillar-control-episode-1.html.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westhumble.

Reference 5: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/oral-porn.html.


Group search key: pla.

Trolley 338

Captured at the car lot at the Kiln Lane turning off East Street. A Sainsbury's trolley, the first one that I have come across with a handle lock included in the trolley itself, by the maker Wanzl, rather than being tacked on afterwards. Furthermore, the Sainsbury's at Kiln Lane is more into wheel locks, although I have been wondering whether they have given up on them, with what seems like a declining proportion of their trolleys having them fitted. While I don't recall coming across a Sainsbury's trolley with a handle lock before: perhaps it came from their small shop in Ewell Village?

Regular trolley stack empty when I got there. They must have been having a busy day.

While back in Blenheim Road, the lorry mounted showman's caravan was back outside the Ford showroom. Rather shabby looking on this occasion, in need of a good clean - and I thought that showmen's wives took great pride in that sort of thing. Along with their Crown Derby.

Missing location

Down East Street again this morning, so I was able to look for the letter box featured at reference 1, and it turned up at the 'Rifleman' end of East Street, whereas I had been sure that it was somewhere near the job centre, a hundred yards further towards Ewell. Helped along by remembering something green, job centre branding green - with there being no green in the snap left.

Which all goes to show how flaky the memory is for such things, even in the very recent past. Although, in my favour, I did correctly remember that the letter box was in a road, rather than in an alley or the entrance to an office car park.

PS: a bit further along, outside 'Pets at Home', I was reminded by the large heads on the decorative panels outside, that the (Google) Street View computer thought it best to grey out their faces in the interests of privacy. Too complicated for it to sort out posters and such from real people with real privacy.

Reference 1: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/trolley-335.html.

Duffel coat

One of the features of duffel coats is that the front fastenings - leather strips and horn (or fake horn) toggles - usually start to wear out well before the rest of the coat, and it irks to throw away all that expensive cloth for want of a few fastenings.

At one time, I used to replace the leather strips holding the toggles in place when they broke, usually where the heavy machine sewing had cut into their surface. Reference 1 notices an excursion to try and get the necessary thread, known to me as pack thread.

Some years later, I decided that ornamental rope might be a better bet then leather, resulting in the excursion to a fancy haberdasher's in Marylebone noticed at reference 2.

And two years after that, about three years ago now, I got around to replacing some of the leather strips on the then current duffel coat, with first results noticed at reference 3.

So now it is duffel coat season again, and BH is making even louder noises than last year about it being time to buy a new one, this despite the bulk of the coat being in perfectly serviceable condition. With the threat of shopping hanging over me, I was prompted into action, this afternoon sitting down to replace the five leather strips that were still to be done, it taking the first strip to get back into the swing of it again and it taking around three hours to do the whole lot, with the result illustrated above.

Good for years and years to come.

Reference 1: https://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.com/search?q=wenzel+wilcox.

Reference 2: http://psmv2.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-leather-thongs-which-hold-toggles.html. Inter alia, an example of a post for which the address cannot be guessed from the title.

Reference 3: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2016/12/duffel-coat.html.

Trolley 337

The balance of the clutch of trolleys from the M&S food hall mentioned in the last post. Rather awkward to wheel two trolleys of different sizes, particularly when the ground is sloping or bumpy.

But returned under the watchful but amused eye of a gentleman standing outside Wetherspoon's, sporting a beverage, tweeds and a substantial moustache. Not the Poirot sort which needs curlers and tweezers, but substantial nonetheless.

Trolley 336

The first of a clutch of trolleys from the M&S food hall left in the vicinity of Epsom station, probably by people catching buses there. First spotted early yesterday evening, still there this morning, as there was no action from any of the M&S employees who arrived by train this morning - and I think it a fair bet that there were some.

Fake 90

This being a kind of faking that I find particularly irritating: a letter all dolled up as if it is a person-to-person letter when actually it is a circular asking for money, albeit for a good cause to which I do give money from time to time.

So we have a handsome envelope announcing that it is from the office of the good baroness. At first glance, addressed by hand in blue ink. Inside, a letter on good quality paper complete with 'Mr Toller' at the top, 'Molly' at the bottom and a PS underneath, all in blue. The sort of thing that Ministers do to dress up letters, which have been written by officials and typed by typists, to make them look as if they meant it. To make them look as if they cared. All in reply to letters which they don't bother or haven't time to look at themselves - but which are important enough to get a reply.

At which point the brain clicks in. Not very likely that the Dignity in Dying have managed to find enough cheap clerks with higher grade handwriting to address all their letters. In any case, not a very good use of their funds. At which point the computer clicks in. And careful inspection of letters like the 'o's and the 'a's shows them all to be identical, including all the little quirks intended to add verisimilitude. All the work of a special font for the word processor and a good quality printer.

A particularly irritating version of those cuddly, personalised letters you get from utility companies. All rather dishonest to my mind: I don't mind getting a circular from a computer but I do mind getting a circular dressed up to look like a letter from a person.

Another version is the tendency to call all kinds of people by their first names when the person calling is not on what we used to call 'on first name terms' with the person called. One example being our former Prime Minister being called Tony by television journalists. Although he was probably a 'please call me Tony' sort of person, so he, at least cannot complain. While my mother, to take another example, hated in middle age being called by her first name by young nurses and care assistants in hospitals. Perhaps Frenchmen of my age get cross about inappropriate use of the second person singular (tu). I think that this might be even more of an issue for Russians, for whom the second person singular used to be reserved for family and intimates.

Reference 1: https://www.dignityindying.org.uk/. A good cause, even if there are occasional lapses on the communications front. This not being the first such lapse.

Trolley 335

Trolley 335 was captured on the south side of East Street. Or, at least, I had thought I had. Perhaps next to the Job Centre. But I cannot now trace this letter box on Street View. All very frustrating, and I will have to go back over the ground tomorrow.

Also unusual in that it appeared to have been used as a litter bin, involving a lot of food and drink wrappers, tissues and such like. Fortunately nothing that required special handling, so I was able to dump it in the second litter bin on the way to Kiln Lane, the first being too full.

Slow build

A new house which is nearing completion in Manor Green Road. Where 'nearing' should be taken in the context of the two years and more that it has taken so far - with the beginnings having been noticed at reference 1. The people on either side must be seriously fed up with it. And a long time to have all that money tied up, not earning its keep. £500,000 or so?

I think if I was to buy such a house I would want to hear a good story about why it has taken so long.

Reference 1, incidentally, illustrates a bug in the blogger template whereby posts drop off the bottom of the lists you get on the right hand side of the screen if you have more than 100 or so posts in any one month. In this case, search found the post and intelligent guess found the address - usually, but not always, the words of the title of the post strung together with hyphens.

Reference 1: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/09/building-works-or-not.html.