Month: April 2020

By my reckoning we’re now into our third week of the UK lockdown. I can only say thank God for the ability to read and for the internet because I would have gone mad by now. There is a limit to the number of 8 letter words you can find on Countdown (requotes today thank you so much for asking) whilst noticing that it is one of the few quizzes that already practice social distancing. That at least could continue. But Pointless would have to go. You can’t stand that close to someone these days without being forced apart by a cattle prod. I’m thinking of ordering one of those from Amazon by the way. It would encourage the correct distance on pain of electric shock and provide entertainment as well.

It would appear that we have at least another 3 weeks of this lockdown to go. They’re talking about May 11th but it will be a long time until we are back to “normal”. And anyway, what will normal look like? Will we all decide to hold more food in the store cupboards? Will we remember how to shop on a whim without a list? I find it a comfort that the British have remembered how to queue. But the balance of power has changed I’ve noticed. Before the customer was always right. Now, the customer will get in the queue and be happy with the level of service we choose to give you. As an example I was stood in the queue to pay at a Sainbury’s Local* where I could see 5 members of staff. The manager was serving customers at the till. The only one serving as the queue trailed around the shop. The other 4 were discussing how Barry had said they didn’t need to listen to complaints from customers anymore. If any customer complained (about anything) they were to ask them to leave the store immediately. Now I don’t know how bad the abuse has got for store assistants during the lockdown but generally speaking I have only seen the public responding well to the difficulties in their every day lives which have suddenly appeared. We are all adjusting to the new reality and a bit of patience and understanding wouldn’t go amiss.

So moving forward we might not even have the same shops we’re used to being in. Debenhams has gone, Oasis and Warehouse are in administration. This, of course, will have a massive knock on effect on the High Street which was already struggling. Maybe we should all make a vow to visit our nearest High Street when we are freed and spend like a drunken sailor in port. The old adage of use it or lose it has never been so relevant. Think about what you’re going to do when the lockdown is lifted and make those choices wisely. More than just your convenience relies on it.

Remember this too will pass. Stay safe and well Stranglings and I’ll see you on the other side.

*Other inefficient local supermarkets are available

For those of us of a certain generation Jeremy Irons is Charles Ryder, the narrator of the sublime Brideshead Revisited. However, the real star of the tv adaptation was the house which we know as Castle Howard which seemed to take on a life of it’s own, from the chapel to the drawing rooms to the naked sunbathing on its roof (couldn’t find any pictures of that unfortunately). The very young cast are pictured below. Before Sebastian became so drunk his looks were ruined and he ended up being cared for by nuns in Morocco. Either read the book or watch the adaptation as both are equally as good. The adaptation is faithful to the text which not many adaptations are so it wins bonus points!

However, the main reason for this trip down memory lane is that I can safely say that I won’t be going to visit Chateau Strange this year which is a huge pity. The Dordogne will just have to get along without me. I’m trying to contact the caretaker there but he’s obviously off enjoying the Easter break with his mistress, Madame Beautemps so isn’t answering my questions with a traditional Gallic grunt. The French have decided to restrict international travel until 30th October which of course means that the season will be over by the time we can get there. I am disappointed of course but we’ll have to make up for it next year. I just hope that we don’t get knocked down in the crush with all the other second home owners desperate to get across and load up the boot with wine before we leave the EU properly. Don’t forget folks they might not negotiate such a great personal allowance for everyone. They might not deem it very important in the scheme of things. As long as I can get my Cremant de Bourgogne* I’ll be happy.

A bientot jus’qu’a la prochaine. Grand bisoux a tous!

* lovely fizz

I hadn’t posted over the holiday weekend as I assumed people would be marinating lamb and hiding Easter eggs in small gardens for even smaller children to find. The weather was good and I thought as I planted some hemlock to see me through the winter months that Spring had finally sprung. There were a couple of triumphs – the fountain in the grounds of Castle Strange had not worked for years but a bit of fettling (and a £50 pump from Amazon) had got the thing working thanks to a top operative. He received his weight in toilet rolls and left leaving a merry tinkling sound to enjoy which rapidly resulted in me wishing I hadn’t given him all those toilet rolls as the sound of trickling water does have an unfortunate effect. Once I’d been released from the toilet like a greyhound from the traps I found the sound very soothing (as long as I didn’t think about my bladder). At least I know my kidneys are in fine and continuous working order. Always a blessing considering my fondness for Vineyard Strange’s finest products.

The second triumph was I was able to book a click and collect slot with Tesco so I wouldn’t have to show my rebellious side in the store and walk the wrong way around the one way system they’ve installed. I only got away with it last time as they had only half installed it leading to confusion all around. Anyway I look forward to picking it up tomorrow and seeing what interesting substitutions they have decided for me – not! A weird version of every little helps! Hmmm no Warburtons Toastie but a torque set? I’ll take it as a fair swap.

It wouldn’t be Strange if something unusual hadn’t happened over the weekend. Mater received an interesting letter from her GPs surgery – the stay indoors or die letter. This letter states that because you suffer from a catalogue of underlying (or just lying) health issues then catching Covid 19 could be the end of you. They don’t want it to be the end of you in case it takes a while and they haven’t got enough staff, ventilators, PPE, beds or George Clooney as Dr Doug Ross. I haven’t got an issue with the letter per se. It’s perfectly reasonable about the actions to take to prevent catching it as much as you can. No, the issue I have with it was that it was only received on Saturday 7th April. Other minions of the Strange universe have received their letters approximately a fortnight ago. So Mater is 14 days behind being able to go out with everyone else. She’s already been in lockdown for 2 and a half weeks. Do we knock those off as a bonus or does she have to stay in for 12 weeks from last Saturday – not a pleasant prospect, for any of us. We shall approach this with a degree of common sense but I did wonder why she hadn’t received the letter that everyone else did. I had thought that maybe they were fed up with her at the surgery but it appears those fears were groundless. All in a day’s musings for Darkling.

Anyway as ever, remember! This too will pass. Stay safe and well and I’ll see you on the dark side.

Its Day 15 of the lockdown and the kitchen is finished. Mater survived the kitchen painting process with only medium level complaining about it. Her balance was surprising good after a while on the paint cans. But then falling off a lot does sharpen up the reflexes. Her list of jobs for me now include:

• Cleaning the kitchen cupboards
• Putting up the pictures (no! not there! Make it higher and more central)
• Putting up other pictures (no! that’s too high – you can’t see it. Do it properly)
• Rearranging the furniture in the kitchen
• Putting the furniture back
• Bathing the dogs (no I know…)

I may not survive all of this – I know Mater won’t… I’m dreading her moving onto another cell in the Stalag.

However, we are managing to stay positive during the time we’re under lockdown. A highlight was getting an 8 letter word on Countdown (canniest thank you so much for asking). I did a lap of the living room in celebration. Shot down in flames though on the numbers round. C’est la vie. Or just an inability to remember a times table.

Mater is keeping herself busy planning nice days out for us – for next week. I keep telling her we’ll be in lockdown for the next month at least but she’s not listening. Probably can’t face the horror of it all, staying at home with her nearest and dearest. It’s enough to drive you screaming to the demon drink (if I wasn’t already there…)

Remember people this too will pass. Stay safe and well and I’ll see you on the other side.

As the weather gets warmer we all start to think about the garden and the sights of buds on trees and new shoots on plants pushing through the earth can be both beautiful and calming elements to assist our mental health. This is the time of year I get very enthusiastic about gardening (pity it doesn’t last throughout the year) and I tend to spend a lot of time planning how the garden will look. Of course, in my head it is always perfect, full of colour and interest with creative planting and instinctively good landscaping. The reality, as we all know will be very different. But this is the triumph of hope over experience which is my usual relationship with gardening. In April and May the possibilities are endless. By July you sort have admitted defeat and by September you’re just not looking at the garden when you go out. Its always a bad break up.

I have managed to keep some things alive despite my natural inclination to kill everything. These include patio fruit trees which I have successfully grown for four years. In that time I have harvested the grand total of 1 small (but beautifully marked) apple. This is from 2 apple trees, 1 pear tree, 1 cherry tree and a plum tree. I continue with my endeavours but it is a thankless task if you’re after at least one of your five a day.

Whilst you’re out exercising have a good gawp in your neighbours garden and see what they’ve got growing there. Take time to enjoy the miracle of nature unfolding before your eyes. Because before you know it it’s gone and you’ll have to wait another year to see it again. At this difficult time if we can do nothing else we can take time to appreciate nature in all it’s glory. Do it today.

Amongst the many things I didn’t know is that today (Saturday 4th April) is International Carrot Day. Who knew the humble carrot needed bigging up to this extent. Possibly it was looking at a young carrot getting lost in the bottom of the veg drawer and thought to itself “Nobody puts Baby Carrot in a corner”. Next thing you know its got a major advertising campaign for Aldi and an International Day, flaunting its 1000 year history and Afghani past. Its also changed its colour over the years having started off purple and moved to orange which apparently was more acceptable (explain that to a beetroot!).

Carrots are of course very woke. There is never an unacceptable carrot shape, size or number of appendages. They are naturally quiet on the subject of their sexuality and gender. Because they get bullied by the parsnips who troll them on social media.

Sew some carrot seeds today. If you have any. Or any compost. Or anything to put them in.

Find out more at #InternationalCarrotDay and cook some carrots today!

I’m going to blame Richard Osman’s House of Games because I keep seeing Slebs picking the fondue set as a prize and Castle Strange doesn’t like to be behind the times so I decided to go for it and order one. I mean who doesn’t like melted cheese? Of course it was another object lesson in modern day efficiency in that it didn’t even come with a starter gel set (so had to order one of those) and it didn’t come with a little recipe book which these things used to. So now I’m stuck with slabs of cheese on a stick. I could do that with a box of cocktail sticks and pack of Dairy Lee slices but hey ho. Once I get the fondue gel I’ll google a fondue recipe and hope for the best.

Of course I could also do a chocolate fondue (unknown in the 70’s) but I forgot to buy any chocolate last time I was out getting the bare essentials allowed in these difficult times. The gel is due to arrive next week just in time for Easter. I may suggest it for Easter Sunday lunch – see how well it goes down …

So this seems to be an excellent step forward in my attempt to eat my own bodyweight each day I’m in lockdown. I’ll let you know how I get on.

La Famille Strange likes to get out and about in the world bringing it’s unique viewpoint to those who may be called “civilians” or to be nice locals.  “Nation shall speak peace unto nation”* is a noble idea but when the Stranges go out and about it is more like “tourists shall bring confusion and calamity upon the residents”.  Naturally it is always better to be able to speak a foreign language so I am proud to say I am fluent in English (inc. all scouse variants), French and of course Strange.  I class fluent as being able to speak without the “satellite zone” pause for translation purposes.  Mater can also speak French but has a unique capacity for saying what she wants but then not listening to the answer (not only in doing it in French either!).  This means that all orders in restaurants need to be double checked before you end up with Tripes au Caen (tripe in tomato sauce – disgusting) when you’d hoped to get salade au chevre chaud (goat’s cheese salad).  I’ve learnt that a visit to the toilet before the meal is ordered can lead to a horrifying and expensive meal.  The dogs rely on being cute which generally gets them what they want.  Mind you they like tripe!

Normally we drive to France for our holidays but sometimes we like to spoil ourselves and go elsewhere.  As a result I’ve been shouted at in New York by an irate pedestrian, nagged senseless in a Marrakech souk in order to get me to part with money for tat, watched Return of the Jedi with Spanish dubbing on Boxing Day whilst eating my own weight in Manchego cheese and pretended to be a religious affiliate to get 2 euros off the price of admission to the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.  Surprisingly, my passport still works.

I’ve been to Barcelona 4 times over the past 20 years and visited the Sagrada Familia each time. It’s still not finished. Is this the ultimate expression of the Spanish “manana”? the gargoyles on it are particularly strange though – which I like.

For information the picture above of Marrakech Souk makes it look clean and a pleasant place to roam. It isn’t. The place smells of something best described as used and organic and you cannot walk past any stall without some man saying “Come buy my shoes/bags/kaftans/tagines/herbs/spices/argan oil/useless, useless tat” constantly or being knocked over by a tuk tuk or motorbike or bitten by a pissed off donkey. It’s not for me. It wasn’t strange. It was gross.

* The motto of the BBC