PC 505 Did you see …….

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Those who decide who should be included in the day’s obituaries must have an interesting time discussing the merits of one person’s life over another. And they obviously hope that, having made their selection, the last-minute demise of someone mega well-known will not have them scrabbling for their page layout tools. As an example of their craft, a week ago yesterday The Times’s included Monty Roberts, ‘horse whisperer and friend of Queen Elizabeth II’; Eve Wilkinson, ‘message coder for Winston Churchill’; Justin Hardy, ‘film maker’; Plas Johnson, ‘saxophonist whose solo defined ‘The Pink Panther’ theme (Ed. It immediately started playing in my memory); The Rev Edward Hovsepian-Mehr, ‘Iranian pastor who led an underground church’ and Kath Pettingill, ‘one-eyed matriarch of a Melbourne crime family’.

The rules of copyright forbid me from copying and pasting Kath’s photograph here but believe me she was not blessed with a natural beauty. The Times’ obituary started:

“A diminutive, one-eyed grandmother known as Granny Evil, Kath Pettingill was the matriarch of Melbourne’s most notorious crime family. She oversaw an empire built on drugs, armed robberies and prostitution that reached its heyday in the 1980s, often protected by corrupt police officers. Pettingill bore the scars of a lifetime on the wrong side of the tracks. Her front teeth were smashed after leaping over a wall to retrieve a ball but remained untreated. Her right eye was shot out in 1978 during an argument with a prostitute over a $300 debt. That brought the benefit, she joked, of not seeing double after excess drinking. The police joined the humour, naming a surveillance exercise against her family Operation Cyclops. Several of her ten children followed in her criminal footsteps.” Etcetera! Etcetera. A fascinating story.

I really don’t think I am alone, such is the natural curiosity running through us all, that when I read something interesting, or unusual, or something that highlights my lack of knowledge, it sometimes leads me to find out more about it. And it’s so easy these days, with the internet and its trillions of data available at the stroke of a computer key.

I have read many of the fictional novels of Australian author Chris Hammer and have just finished his latest, ‘Legacy’. A previous one, ‘The Broken River’, had these lines:

“He drew deep on the reefer before breathing out. ‘The ancient Greeks worshipped a sun god, Helios, who had a son and seven daughters. When the son died, his sisters wept tears of golden sunlight that were hardened by their grief to become amber.’“

Celina and I live in an apartment in a 2010 conversion of a large 1890s house in Hove. The developers named it Amber House, after the Amber Cup which was unearthed during landscaping in 1856 to create nearby Palmeira Square. An ancient 6-metre-high burial mound was excavated and found to contain a coffin hewn from a tree-trunk. Dated from 1200 BC, it yielded many treasures including this cup, made of translucent red Baltic Amber and about the size of a regular teacup. The find suggests trade links between Britain and the Baltic States over 3200 years ago??? Wow!

I have no knowledge of even the basics of Greek Mythology, so I went online and found this, ‘Thank you, AI’, which filled some of the spaces in Chris Hammer’s story.  ‘Phaethon, son of Helios, begs his father to let him drive the golden sun chariot for a day. A hot-headed youth, he loses control of the horses, and the fiery chariot scorches the earth, nearly destroying it. To save the earth, Zeus strikes Phaethon with a thunderbolt, causing him to fall into a river called Eridanus and he’s drowned. His grieving sisters, known as the Heliades, stood on the riverbank and wept for him so long that the gods turned them into Poplar trees and their hardened tears into golden Amber.’ So now I understand that the little cup was made from Greek tears.

Reading the ladies became Poplar trees reminded me of a framed print in the dining room of Glencot, a ‘prep’ school near Wookey Hole in Somerset. I don’t recognise any images that the internet offers when I search for ‘poplar trees’, so it may not have been by a famous artist, but it’s stayed with me. It looked something like this:

A possible entry into the RA’s Summer Exhibition 20027? Think it would need some work!

Talking of reading, James Marriott’s weekend essay in last Saturday’s Times was jaw-dropping. He writes: ‘Where people once used smartphones to read news articles, they now use them to spend hours scrolling through a dazzling stream of videos, many of them only a few seconds long. More than 40 per cent of young adults regularly get their news from TikTok.’ He highlighted the fact that the publishing industry is ever more reliant for its survival on a committed hard core of “super-readers”; ‘80 per cent of books are read by 20 per cent of adults.’ (Note 1) and claims, more worrying for those who care, that the decline of reading is about more than the fading of a pleasant hobby. ‘It is one of the most important trends of our time. We are moving from a literate culture based on the written word to a visual one dominated by moving images.’

My postcards have helped close an ‘open’ memory. Martin Ward-Harrison was in my intake at Sandhurst (RMAS) and we became very good friends.

Our ‘end of Officer Training’ photograph July 1967; Intake 39 Burma Company. Martin’s on his horse, with his groom holding the drinks tray. I suspect it was his horsebox too.

On commissioning our paths parted; in the days before email and mobile phones, keeping in touch required writing letters and we were both very busy. I had no inkling what had happened when I heard he had died in Oman in 1976. A childhood friend of Martin’s, Nick MacAndrews, got in touch through my postcards about my time at RMAS, asking what I knew. We did some digging and, thanks to Keith Ryde of Oman.org, found he’d been in a Landover that crashed near the Dhofar border with Yemen. Badly injured, he was airlifted back to the UK but died a few days later. On 24 October 2023 his name was added to the Roll of Honour at RMAS, suggesting he’d been seconded to the Sultan of Oman’s Armed Forces, to assist in their border conflict with Yemeni rebels. Feel good about this closure!

Richard 21st August 2026

Estoril, Portugal

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 I no longer get paid to work, so in theory have more time to read than others. In 2025 I read 35 books, so I suspect clearly in Marriott’s 20%.

PC 504 Houses – Buying and Selling

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Last Wednesday I found myself, mid-afternoon, in The Hope Café, taking time-out to recall and reflect. You may remember that postcard ‘Wait ….’ (PC 465 November 2025), but you’d be wrong to think I was waiting for something ……. just ‘being’.

Towards the end of last year, it must have been November, an ex-Army chum Jim informed me he was moving from his house in Suffolk to somewhere near Cambridge to be closer to grandchildren. He moved in June this year – over six months between agreeing to buy the house and moving in. The wise say that this experience is one of the most stressful transactions we do and in the course of our lifetime we may do it many times. Mention moving house and immediately memories of your own experiences will flood your brain!

Hurst Cottage in Fleet; my first house – much extended!

Just as I was finding out from Google that Stamp Duty, payable to HMG in England when you buy a house, is 5% if its value is between £250k and £925k, I see Sami walk in with Lisa, so I put my thoughts on hold.

“Hey! You two! Haven’t seen you together for weeks. You been away?”

“Had a very lovely week in Salcombe at the end of July. I remember you writing about being there when it was wet and cool; this year it was glorious. So lucky! Enjoyed your postcards about Brighton’s Lanes and North Laines (PC 503 August 2026) – you should get a job working for the tourist section of the council.”

“God forbid! I’m thinking about writing a postcard about buying and selling a house.”

“Well, how long have you got Richard …?”

I interrupt. “Actually, my first experience, buying Hurst Cottage on Victoria Road in Fleet, Hampshire for £29,500 in 1978, was fine.

49a, Cavendish Road, Clapham

My ‘lower ground’ flat on Clapham Common South Side went ahead without memorable angst but the next, a Victorian terraced house on the southern end of Battersea, taught me something.”

“What was that?”

“It’s a personable business and we response accordingly. I had written to the owner, to say how much we were looking forward to completing the purchase, recognised that she had made it a charming property and knowing we would be happy there. About three weeks before we thought we would complete, the estate agent said someone was offering another £10,000 and they had an obligation to forward it to the owner. Eeek! We learned later that she didn’t entertain this new offer as our letter had touched her and she wanted us to have it. So, we were not ‘gazumped’ (note 1)”

A sketch for a Christmas card, prior to a loft conversion! A terraced house is a terraced house; 54 Bramfield Road.

Just as Lisa is about to comment, maybe offer some of her own insights, a stranger comes over:

“Sorry to interrupt” she said, “but couldn’t help but hear you talking about house purchases and thought you might like to know that my husband was a reverse-gazumper. Do you want to hear the story?” and she said it in that way, suggesting we were going to hear it, like it or not!

“I am Sally, by the way. We were getting divorced, thank God, and he was really reluctant to find somewhere for himself to live, so I left and rented to encourage him; not sure it did. But we had a buyer, at our asking price. He explained he hadn’t found somewhere and they should be patient. The weeks rolled into months ….” I could tell this was a painful period for her, recalling how her life was really on hold until he found somewhere. “Then he realised property prices had risen over the period, and asked the prospective buyers, with whom we had already exchanged, ie agree the price, for another 10%!”

“Could he do that?”

“The option for the others was to pull out and after all this time they decided they had no option. I was absolutely disgusted. I complained to the estate agent that I hadn’t agreed this but the estate agent said they didn’t need the agreement of both parties and that they had to forward the instruction.”

“Wow! Sally! That’s really greedy. So sorry for you ….. but thanks for telling us. You a local?”

“No. I live up in Essex …. and must go; love The Hope Café!” and she got up and left.

Sami: “This is England right. This would be very rare in Scotland, where the agreement to buy becomes legally binding much earlier in the process through formal letters between solicitors called ‘concluded missives’. Additionally, sellers must legally provide a single survey and energy report, so that prospective buyers can’t argue that their survey found ‘x’ and ‘y’ and therefore would ask for a reduction in their offer.”

“I had that problem as the executor of my maiden aunt’s estate, selling her house on the north side of Clapham Common. Someone had come along, very quickly offered the asking price, and just when the sale was due to be completed, claimed his survey had highlighted major problems and wanted a huge reduction, some 20% if I remember correctly, imagining he had me by the ‘short and curlies’ and I would agree. I found out this individual had a reputation for doing this …… so didn’t agree and put the house back on the market. But this was a probate sale so I was slightly personally detached!

Statistically, once an offer is accepted it takes an average of four months to complete; Jim’s took six. One in three house sales fall through before exchange. The Ministry for Housing, Communities and Local Government has said: ‘We’re stopping gazundering by introducing legally binding agreements that prevent buyers from walking away at the last minute without a valid reason, with fines for those who do.’ But not until 2029!

Our Hove apartment is in this magnificent 1890s building

I could tell that Lisa wanted to add some of her own experiences, but I had to dash, as I had to fashion a pinhole viewing device for the evening’s solar eclipse!”

Richard 14th August 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribles.co.uk

PS The only other house I owned was in the village of Rowledge, for 15 months.

Note 1 A gazumper is a person who steps in with a higher offer on a property after the seller has already accepted an offer from someone else, but before the contracts are legally signed.

PC 503 The Lanes and North Laine, Brighton

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My parents moved from Bath to Sussex in the mid-1950s and eventually settled in the village of Balcombe, twenty miles north of Brighton. Given the paucity of excitement in the nearest town, Haywards Heath, apart from the Perrymount Cinema which showed up-to-date films (Note 1), it was inevitable that Brighton provided more interest. There were regular trips to the Theatre Royal on New Road (Note 2) …..

…… to watch pre-London plays. Today, seventy years later, it presents comedy, musicals, cabaret and children’s entertainment. We also went to the annual Christmas ‘Ice Spectactual’ at the rink at the bottom of West Street. The steam train from Balcombe took 20 minutes … in the summer holidays a day on the beach involved the train from Balcombe then a walk down to the beaches of Hove, always less crowded that those immediately south of the railway station.

My brother and me, circa 1958

It’s the same today; day trippers heading straight down to the sea, hugger mugger on the beach with others, while a little walk West would give them more space!

I think the most interesting parts of the city, apart from the Royal Pavilion, built between 1815 and 1822, are the North Laine, at one time Brighton’s worst slum – a laine was an open plain divided into sections for farming – and The Lanes. The latter are essentially located in what was the village of Brighthelmstone, bounded by West Street, North Street, East Street and the sea on its southern edge.

We have to thank King George IV who, as the Prince of Wales, first came to Brighton in 1783 and put the town on the map, establishing its first ‘Season’. He later commissioned the Royal Pavilion and his annual visits encouraged a building spree that defines Brighton’s architectural character today. Georgian buildings such as the Old Ship Hotel (circa 1794) rub shoulders with whitewashed Regency and early Victorian townhouses.

The Lanes are a delightful collection of little streets and pedestrianised squares, often linked by twittens. A twitten is an old Sussex-dialect word for a narrow path or alleyway, which serve as short cuts. From North Street running south into The Lanes is Meeting House Lane, a twitten said to be haunted by the ghost of a nun who was walled up alive after eloping with a soldier. There’s another good example of a twitten just up from our yoga studio, which is situated in the old Rabbi’s house behind the synagogue on Middle Street.

Yoga In The Lanes’ entrance to the left of the Synagogue

Ship Street Gardens features C19th cottages and a famous fig tree and links Middle Street with Ship Street.

Whilst both The Lanes and the North Laine have many independent shops, The Lanes has a greater preponderance of chain outlets, such as Penhaligon’s, Molton Brown, Lush, Russell & Bromley, Loake, and Flying Tiger.

It is also well known for its jewellers and antique shops, fashion boutiques, cafés and restaurants, including The Ivy and its Asian sister.

English’s of Brighton, the city’s famous seafood restaurant on East Street, is located in three former fishermen’s cottages. Reviewers highlight the fresh rock oysters as a ‘must try’. The city’s Town Hall is located on Bartholomew Road and is where Celina and I got married on 20th August 2016. The building also houses the Old Police Cells museum.

You could easily while away an afternoon, drifting from a coffee house such as Café Coho, exploring Meeting House Lane, Brighton Place, Market Square, winding down its narrow lanes, ….. stopping and being surprised at, for example, The Duck House!

To access the North Laines you cross busy North Street, up New Street with the theatre opposite Pavillion Gardens and a glimpse of the Royal Pavillion, on past The Brighton Museum & Art Gallery and the Brighton Dome, once the Prince Regent’s stables and now a venue for concerts, dance shows, and plays and the headquarters of the Brighton Festival. Here you find a patchwork of small streets lined with quirky shops, drawing crowds of locals and tourists alike.

When I wanted someone to fashion two little loops of leather, I went to Clever with Leather in a basement workshop on Tidy Street.

Writing of leather, if you are fastidious about not using animal products, you could buy some shoes or boots from The Vegetarian Shoe shop on Gardner Street.

After wearing contact lenses for decades, the removal of my cataracts meant I could indulge in some funky reading glasses. Bromptons Opticians, further up on Gardner Street, has just such frames, but I needed a second mortgage to buy these:

Having a sweet tooth, I get drawn to Caramella on Kensington Gardens where you can buy old-fashioned confectionary. Fancy a humbug or Sherbert Lemons or do you prefer liquorice; the latter in many shapes and lengths and, if you ask nicely, you can pick and choose your favourite ‘Liquorice All Sorts’ – for me the little pink and blue buttons!

On Trafalgar Street you can find just the right hat for you, assisted by knowledgeable staff who know about face shapes, and can advise accordingly.

Every city suffers from Grafitti and Brighton is no different, but this mural on Bond Street is surely in a class of its own.

Brighton has just celebrated Pride and I am reminded yet again how inclusive this city is, quite extraordinary! There is a tangible acceptance of people being who they want to be, and no one bats an eyelid, apart from visitors unused to such genuine displays of confidence. I saw these women walking up Gardner Street and thought ‘why not?’

The Lanes and North Laines are so worth a visit!

Richard 7th August 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS If you come to Brighton don’t forget to say hello to the European Herring Gull, otherwise known as: “Oi!” as it swoops down on your fish ‘n chips.

PPS Brighton is 9,219kms (5,729 miles) from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Note 1 Opened in 1936, it had a little dance hall and a café, as well as the auditorium for screening films. You could smoke in the rear rows! It closed in 1972 and the building demolished in 1984.

Note 2 It had opened in 1807.

PC 502 Heading to The Hope Café

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After lunch on Tuesday, before a dental appointment towards the end of the afternoon, I headed to The Hope Café for a coffee and a catch-up. In a little bag I had some toothpaste and a toothbrush, as I needed to clean my teeth before being subjected to an oral examination. Nothing worse than one’s dentist berating one for poor dental hygiene. This reminds me that we make sure our apartment is clean and tidy ….. before our fortnightly cleaner’s visit; funny what we do, huh? ‘There are standards, Caruthers.’

In my mind I was collecting thoughts for this week’s scribbles and suddenly thought: ‘I have enough …… I don’t need to have a conversation with anyone!’ ….. so popped into Café Nero on Church Road, got a double espresso, plugged in my laptop and looked at my notes.

My regular readers will know Celina and I visited both the North and South Islands of New Zealand last autumn, and on the latter drove from Christchurch to Lake Tekapo. The weather was glorious:

The little stone Church of The Good Sheppard, built in 1935 to honour the first English settler families in the area, is one of the most photographed buildings in the country. On Facebook a couple of weeks ago it looked completely different; I read that Lake Tekapo had recorded minus12.5C!

In my normal perusal of the obituary column in The Times, I found that the former Emir of Qatar, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa al-Thani, has died aged 74. He had deposed his father and was credited with bringing Qatar into the C21st. What I found amazing was his ability to procreate! He had married three times; his first wife Mariam, a cousin, gave him 2 sons and 6 daughters, his second, Moza, 5 sons and 2 daughters and his last, Noora and another cousin, 4 sons and 5 daughters, a total of 11 sons and 13 daughters. Quite a brood. The practice of marrying a first cousin, and the obituary didn’t say whether two of his wives were first cousins, is debateable. For example, it’s legal in the UK and in about 50% of the States in America, while banned in many other places. Statistics show that children of first-cousin marriages have a 5% risk of ‘autosomal recessive genetic disorders’ compared to the 3% of the children of unrelated parents. It’s certainly a common practice in the Pakistan community in Leeds where, according to a television documentary, the percentage of abnormal births is very high.

Back from a week in Estoril in Portugal earlier this month, I read another obituary, that of a judge, André Cerdini. What caught my eye was the subtitle: ‘Provincial magistrate praised for his calm restraint during the prosecution of ‘The Butcher of Lyon’ (Klaus Barbie), four decades after the US helped him to escape justice.’ Barbie had been ‘notorious as a sadistic figure, relentlessly pursuing both the city’s Jewish population and its French Resistance members. He was responsible for hundreds of murders and deportations to concentration camps.’ He was one of the monsters in human form, the subject of my PC 324 ‘Monsters’ from March 2023.

You might think that our yoga studio has some background music before class and that it’s all yoga-stuff, spiritual, chanting, Indian etc. Most of the time the music that’s playing as students check-in is the choice of the individual teaching. Last month Eve was playing music that I instantly recognised, from a 1960’s British folk-rock band called ‘Pentangle’. Their single ‘Light Flight’ became popular when it was used as the theme music for a BBC drama series ‘Take Three Girls’ – incidentally the first drama series to be televised in colour.

My postcards reach a wide variety of individuals, maybe the readership expanded by people sharing them with others. Back in March, a photograph from September 1965 of Burma Company Intake 39 at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst (RMAS) caught the eye of Nick Whittle, who was researching an uncle’s career and thought he might have been an Officer Cadet at RMAS in my time. Eventually, through a very helpful individual at The Sandhurst Collection, a Dr Sebastian Puncher, we established that Stephen Hall-Jones had been in Normandy Company in Intake 37 (September 1964 – July 1966) and was commissioned into The Inniskilling Fusiliers. Sebastian sent Nick a cache of information that enabled him to fill out the details of his uncle’s life.

At about the same time, a Nick MacAndrews got in touch about a fellow Officer Cadet in Burma 39, Martin Ward-Harrison. I will write about him in a subsequent postcard.

My parents’ house in Balcombe had an enormous garden and at one time the gardener was a chap called Buswell, who cycled about 4 miles from his home. He was a red-cheeked chap, full of enthusiasm for life, although his actual knowledge of plants was minimal! He needed careful supervision. I remember him for all sorts of reasons but particularly for the way he said ‘binoculars’. Why this particular useful piece of equipment came up in the conversation I don’t know but he pronounced it ‘binockerknickers’. And why it came to my mind this week is a mystery!

          I mentioned we’d been to Portugal (See PC 499 Évora 10 July). The new entry arrangements – fingerprinting etc – took no time at all, although we had to have our passport checked by a human being. When we flew back, I presented my passport to check-in my suitcase, got through an electronic gate using my passport, but then had to go to a border force official in a kiosk, showing my passport again ….. then to get into the boarding gate waiting area had to show it again ….. and then again when we started boarding! Absolute nonsense! Then to cap it all, my suitcase took the long route, eventually delivered home by personal courier 36 hours later at 0200.

Last week’s postcard PC 501 ‘Living and loving more, or victim’, the follow-on from PC 485 ‘Live more, live less’, was well-received: ‘Beautiful PC this morning’; ‘This PC really spoke to me’; ‘With 485, this time you’re getting deeper and closer …’, while Eddie commented he only had 7 months left to confound the statistics! If it’s still in your ‘will catch up later’ folder (?) I suggest you spend 5 minutes and read it (well, 10 if you didn’t read the first!)

Richard 31st July 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PC 501 Living and loving more, or victim?

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In PC 485 ‘Live more? Live less?’ I hoped I got across the idea that we should be striving to do more than just existing. The more I thought about it, the more I recognised that there is a dreadful condition, that of ‘being a victim’; this might stop someone from fulfilling their capabilities and expectations, living more, loving more.

Without doubt, in our lives we will all experience some form of hardship, disappointment, loss, often due to external circumstances or the actions of others. While the initial event may not be your fault, you may feel the victim, and start complaining, shifting accountability to others. Don’t let this ‘victim mentality’ linger. Understanding the psychology behind this mindset is the first step toward regaining control. It often develops as an unconscious defence mechanism, to protect oneself after experiencing adversity.

Various ideas to get out of this mentality include acknowledging the areas of your life where you do have control and focusing on problem-solving rather than complaining. Whatever happened in the past, is in the past. Uncoupling those events from your current sense of unhappiness and self-worth can allow you to live and love more, today!

On the Sunday before we flew to South America in mid-April, I was walking to Rahmi’s 7-11, to exchange my Sunday Times coupon for an actual paper, and passed Hixon Green, a ‘café with food’, on Church Road. Sitting at one of the outside tables, enjoying the weak Spring sunshine, was a chap who’d recently bought one of the twelve apartments in Amber House. Tom waved and I went to say ‘hello’; he introduced me to his friend Ricky, who was enjoying a glass of Coke. Tom started telling Ricky I practised hot yoga a lot – ‘Six days a week, Tom’, I interjected – and Ricky said: ‘I should start doing something like that, shouldn’t I?’ (Was this a question to me or to himself?)

“Absolutely” I said. “Let me know and you can come as my guest for your first session. How old are you?”

“Forty-three. But listen, I really don’t have time for that.”

Always difficult, to allocate one’s time to all those things you think important, be it work, one’s family, staying in touch with friends, indulging in a passion like singing, playing golf, or going to the gym for example. Many years ago, a CEO client said he didn’t have time to learn a language he wanted to be proficient at. He then admitted he didn’t get up until 0730! I suggested he could fit in an hour of study if he got up earlier; he later called that precious extra time ‘Yates’s Hour’.

I am a lark, preferring to be, as Private Godfrey from Dad’s Army often exclaimed, ‘Up and at ‘em’, early, although he was suggesting tackling the enemy head-on! Maybe the analogy works for taking on the day’s challenges?

“There is a time in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.  Omitted, all the voyage of one’s life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea am I now afloat, and I must take the current when it serves or lose my venture”. Brutus in Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Caesar’ obviously believed in living and loving more.

At around the same time as I learned that the nephew of our masseuse had died aged 39 from a heart attack, I read that here in the United Kingdom the span of our lives when we might expect to be healthy has declined over ten years to just 60 years. The headline is disturbing, but how the Health Foundation came to the conclusion suggests we should take the result with … a pinch of salt? Firstly, their population sample went from 170,000 households to 80,000 and covered a three-year period (2022-2024) so, as well as being smaller, may well have been affected by the tail-end of the pandemic. Secondly, there was a marked deterioration among young adults, from 91% to 84% reporting good health, the recent focus on ‘mental health’ being a major factor, whereas older women reported being much healthier.

As Mark Twain wrote in his autobiography, mistakenly attributing it to Benjamin Disraeli’: ‘There are three kinds of lies; lies, damned lies and statistics’!! More likely we’ll have some 68 years of healthy life, and not something forecast by a small tick box survey.

I have mentioned the victim mentality as I have personal knowledge of one such person. Through the generosity of others, they’ve been looked after, fed, watered and housed, whilst making no discernible effort to get off their butt and start taking responsibility for themselves. Love can be complicated, but sometimes a dose of ‘tough love’ is needed.

My fellow yogi Ian calls a spade a spade and not a shovel: “We all need to dare to …. but we accept we get knocked back …. and then you need to pick yourself up, and start again! The accusation this is ‘bad for my mental health’ is bollocks; it’s exactly the opposite.”

Shakespeare, the great observer, wrote these opening lines for Macbeth:

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”

The co-owner of our hot yoga studio teaches a lot and adds her own take on life to the traditional dialogue. The other day she said the practice of hot yoga ‘prepares one for one’s future’. My own thoughts are that you need to live, truly live, now and not wait for ‘your future’ to arrive. And that at my age I truly believe my ‘future’ has arrived, like NOW. Make sure your life is full of love and fun and don’t ever be a victim; well, not for too long!

Richard 24th July 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PC 500 Half a Century!

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Back in 2014 I never ever dreamt that, twelve years later, I would write ‘PC 500 Half a Century!’ Yet here we are, having scribbled about this and that, finding the weekly 1000-word challenge part of the routine of my life. Where did twelve years go and what happened during that time? (I have added some of my photographs from our travels; their position is not connected to the script!)

Eagle on the Yukon River, Alaska 2015

          There are global events that I have no control over, but their significance often affects the decisions of our government and therefore eventually my life. Living in western Europe gives me a view on world events that I wouldn’t necessarily have if I lived, for instance, in Brazil or in New Zealand. I am not saying there’s a bias, but a European war is more concerning for this continent than for South America.

          These twelve years started with Russia’s modern annexation of The Crimea. In England we remember The Crimea as the land fought over between 1853-1856, one of Victoria’s Wars. Then it was Russia against an alliance of The Ottoman Empire, France, the United Kingdom and the Kingdom of Sardinia (!); it ended with Russia’s defeat. Who hasn’t heard Alfred Tennyson’s poem ‘The Charge of The Light Brigade’, describing 670 cavalry men’s charge against some Russian guns? Only 195 men remained mounted and survived unharmed.

          In 2014 Russia annexed The Crimea, siting all sorts of historic reasons why its people wanted to be part of Russia; Europe took no action. Eight years later an emboldened Russia invaded Ukraine and that war continues. Whatever its outcome, its use of drone technology is changing the way conflicts are conducted.

The Salt Lake, the Atacama Desert, Chile 2023

           In 2021, after twenty years in Afghanistan trying to bring peace and stability, the United States and its Nato Allies withdrew, having failed. The departure was quite chaotic, reminiscent of the American pull out of its unsuccessful war in Vietnam. So much blood spilt, only to see Afghanistan regress to the C7th ideas of the Taliban. Not having learned its lesson, America embarked on yet another war, this one with Iran, in February this year; most commentators suggest this was ill-thought through and the likely outcome of any peace settlement disappointing. The European focus on the Ukrainian and Iranian conflicts masks news of the other disastrous conflict in Africa, that of the civil war in Sudan.

For two years after the start of my PCs, Africa suffered its first Ebola Epidemic. The second is happening now! And who can forget the global pandemic of Covid 19 that lasted from 2020 for three years. In the UK there were over 25 million cases which resulted in 232,000 deaths. The worst day was on 19th January 2021 when 1490 individuals died. Globally it’s estimated that some 18-35 million people died. No rhyme or reason why someone who caught the virus died – age and health no determinator, but there was a suggestion that some ethnic groups were more susceptible than others.

The island of Vis, Croatia 2024

Two other global changes mark these twelve years. Firstly since 2023 there has been an exponential rise in the integration of Artificial Information technologies in virtually every aspect of life, transforming global industries, labour markets and technology policy. This is comparable with the introduction of the mobile telephone or the shift to digital technology or the introduction of television.

Secondly, the election of Donald Trump to President of the USA in 2024 has been marked by geopolitical shifts in diplomacy, in alliances, in international trade and in the political landscape. Whether you like him or not, his erratic policies and mood swings have created greater uncertainty and instability.

Here in the United Kingdom the 2016 referendum on our European Union membership resulted in 52% of the population voting to leave. The consequences of that fateful decision reverberate in every aspect of our lives today. The Prime Minister David Cameron resigned, and five other politicians have since tried to lead the country, Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak and Keir Starmer, the latter replaced as I write by Andy Burnham. Eight in 12 years! Another referendum in Scotland, in 2014, put the case for independence on hold! But in the same year same-sex marriage became legal in England and Wales; Brighton celebrated!

Lake Tekapo, South Island, New Zealand 2025

The circle of life continues. In 2016 ‘births’, my third grandson Theo was born in December, ‘marriages’, ours in August and ‘deaths’, that of Celina’s father Carlos in the January. In the following year my nephew Hugh’s first child Dougie was born, on 17th February, the same day as Celina’s brother’s second son Joaquim. I miss Bill Pender and Ray Morrell, both good friends for decades, who are no longer here. And as a nation we said goodbye to Queen Elizabeth II.

As we age it’s inevitable our bodies react to internal and external factors but trying to live an active life and eating well helps. For instance, last year I completed 4000 hot yoga classes since I started in 2009, despite having to have a prolapsed disc operated on in 2017!

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 2012 – to date

Celina and I have travelled, and not only to Brazil on our annual visits to her home city Rio de Janeiro! In 2015 we went west, up into Alaska, following in the footsteps of great grandfather George Nation. At the end of 2019 we were on the north coast of South Island, New Zealand, on Farewell Spit, the sandbar on which the Queen Bee, a barque from England, sank. Amongst the passengers was Eve Fosbery, aged 17, who would become my great grandmother. We then went out into the Marlborough Sounds, to Frenchman’s Pass, where the survivors came ashore two days later. We’ve had two other trips to New Zealand and Australia, loved Singapore, and spent a few days in the Atacama Desert in northern Chile. Celina’s brother and family moved to Estoril in Portugal in 2016, giving us opportunities to visit on an annual basis.

But in twelve years I have failed miserably to get to grips with the Portuguese language.

The Monument to the Discoveries, Lisbon, Portugal. 2016 to date

My postcards continue …….. PC 501 in draft!

Richard 17th July 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PC 499 Évora, Portugal

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Évora in the centre, Lisbon to its west.

A snippet cut from The Times’ Travel Section over a year ago says that ‘Portugal’s south-central Alentejo (note 1) region is an underrated spot for fine red wine and ‘porco preto’, that’s pork from acorn-fed black pigs. The walled city of Évora is a charming base from which to explore. Between outings to hilltop Monsaraz and along the Alentejo Wine Route, queue to try that pork inside Botequim de Mouraria or to scoff typically simple local dishes such as dogfish soup at rustic Fialho. Évora also has temples and a skull-filled Chapel of Bones to explore, while its markets offer ewe’s milk cheese.’

The DK Guide adds: “The town rose to prominence under the Romans and flourished throughout the Middle Ages as a centre of learning and the arts. It was a popular residence of Portugues kings but fell out of favour after Spain’s annexation of Portugal in 1580. Its influence waned further when the Jesuit university closed in the 18th century.”  Today in the C21st, students once again throng the streets, joined by visitors to this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

So, we went! Évora is about an hour’s drive east of Lisbon; by noon the temperature had reached 39C and it was baking! We had rooms in the Pousada dos Lóios, a hotel converted from the old Monastery of St John the Evangelist, which had been founded in 1485. Today the hotel’s bedrooms are the old ‘cells’ of ‘Cónegas Regrantes’ – although my little suite suggested there was a little luxury permitted!

Our first lunch was in a small restaurant, Luar de Janeiro, somewhere in the maze of tiny streets below the hotel.

I am not a fan of Alentejo food, or most Portuguese food for that matter, but I had to try the little ham, but not its accompaniment of goat, cheese and garlic rice.

Near our hotel stood the Roman Temple, thought to have been built in the 2nd or 3rd century AD.

In daylight it’s a glorious reminder of the deep history evident on the European continent. By night it’s altogether different; more ethereal.

The nearby square has some marble sculpture. I thought this was interesting:

I didn’t find out its creator and wasn’t sure whether the crack splitting it in two was intentional or not!

Some of the shops nestling down Évora’s little narrow streets sell cork products, for the Alentejo region in Portugal is the world’s largest producer of cork; for example, 30 million corks for the wine industry, per day. Hats, bags, purses, waterproofs, those cork mats for the kitchen and even a cork postcard!

Cork trees cover some 7000 sq kms of Portugal. Harvesting cork is a skilled business; mature trees have their bark stripped off every ten years or so, leaving the exposed wood raw and red. 

Most shops shut during the heat of the afternoon but the guide had highlighted a C16th church, the Igreja da Graça, on the top of which are ‘four muscular figures supporting globes. They are quaintly nicknamed Os Meninos’ (The Children). Despite the temperature, (Note 2) I had to go and have a look. The church is undergoing a major restoration and is covered in plastic sheeting. Fortunately, the authorities had stuck a photograph of what it looks like on the outside and I was able to identify Os Meninos; sort of ‘boys will be boys’?

You can make out the four old men, two left and two on the right

Later, back in the wonderfully cool hotel, we had dinner. I chose the ‘stewed peas and Alentejo tomatoes’ as a starter …. more out of curiosity than anything else, although when Nuno the waiter asked whether I wanted the poached egg with it, I was slightly nonplussed; I declined. However, I was completely gobsmacked to be served a bowl of lukewarm soup, complete with bits of pork!

‘Lost in Translation’

I am seriously not one to take photographs of what I am eating although this … took the biscuit! Their ‘orange pie’ for dessert was not a pie!

Beside the C15th church of São Francisco sits the Capela dos Ossos.

The largest and oldest ‘Chapel of Bones’ in Portugal, built in the first half of the C17th, is a space ‘that can only be understood within the context of the Catholic spirituality that originated it.’  The chapel holds the skeletal remains of some 5000 monks and others associated with the church … and has a rather strange invitation at its entrance: ‘Nos ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos’ (‘we bones that are here await yours’)

I found it very, very odd, strangely mesmeric, these skulls and bones artistically laid out. I can imagine the chat between those who created it: ‘José, have you got a small skull, just need one to fill a hole?’ or ‘Carlos, do I place the leg bones in a fan shape, or shortest to longest?’ – just seeing them as pieces in some macabre display.

European walled cities have always held a fascination for me, be it St Malo in the northwestern corner of France, Dubrovnik in Croatia or Kotor in Montenegro. Carcassonne in southern France remains on my bucket list.

In Évora fragments remain of the inner Roman walls, whilst the C14th outer wall is very much in evidence, made in the 1640s into a major fortification. 

Water was carried into the town by the aqueduct, built between 1531 and 1537.

Today it’s used by the local water company to pipe water into the town; some 9kms of the old aqueduct still survive. Finally, you remember that marble sculpture near the hotel? With the sunset behind it ….

…. it reminded me of the lines from the song ‘As Time Goes By’ by Louis Armstrong ……. ‘a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, the fundamental things apply, as time goes by.’  

Évora? Enchanting!

Richard 10th July 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 The Romans valued this land ‘beyond the Tagus’ – além Tejo – for its wheatfields; grain was exported all over their empire.

Note 2 Only ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun’ wrote Sir Noel Coward (1899 – 1973)

PC 498 Our Hands

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My annual visit to the Hove Skin Clinic to check for skin cancers resulted in Dr Bav Shergill freezing three little spots on the back of my hands. They took just three weeks to heal and during the first two, I was careful in some yoga postures in the floor series, as the backs of my hands should have been in contact with the floor.

It’s not until we sprain a thumb, split a nail, break a finger, or have an open sore that we realise how much we rely on our hands. The ‘prehensile multi-fingered appendage at the end of the forearm in primates such as humans, chimpanzees, monkeys and lemurs’ is crucial for fine motor skills, tactile sensations and the manipulation of the surroundings. The fingers contain some of the densest areas of nerve endings in the body, giving us enormous tactile feedback. Each hand is controlled by opposing brain hemispheres so that our preferred choice for single-handed activities such as writing reflects individual brain functioning.

This is an outline of my left hand.

The whole hand is made up of 27 bones. The top two bones in each finger are the well-known phalanges and the metacarpus bone completes the finger; four fingers (Note 1), the index, middle, ring and little (or pinkie), and one thumb make up the hand. The importance of our hands and their component parts is reflected in our language, in our sayings and phrases. Instantaneously I recall people saying ‘I’m all fingers and thumbs’, meaning they are, particularly when flustered or nervous, extremely clumsy or awkward.

The distance between the tip of the thumb and the tip of the index finger is typically around 6 to 7 inches (15cms); maybe a more useful measurement is the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your little finger, about 9 inches (23cms). The tip of the thumb to its first joint is about an inch (2.54cms), and from the nose to the tip of the outstretched arm is about a yard (92cms). A finger is approximately ¾ inch wide – so if you’re asked how much whisky you want and you answer: ‘two fingers’ – you’ll get about 1 ½ inches. (Note 2)

Sailing in coastal waters and checking for navigational aids, it’s good to know that at arm’s length the little finger covers about one degree, three middle fingers together about 5 degrees, a clenched fist about 10 degrees, the spread of index and pinky about 15 degrees, and there’s 25 degrees between the thumb and pinky. There’s more! If you spread your hand out so the pinky is horizontal, the ring finger is at about 30˚, the middle 45˚, the index about 60˚ and the thumb 90˚.

We talk of using the ‘rule of thumb’, working with a method or procedure based on experience and not on theory.

‘Many hands make light work’ is a saying that’s been around since the 1540s, meaning with teamwork tasks are more easily achieved. In this case the word ‘hand’ refers to a ‘person who does something’, most common as a sailing term for the ship’s crew – ‘all hands on deck!’. Those of you who remember The Goon Show with Harry Seacombe, Spike Milligan, Michael Bentine and Peter Sellers may recall a skit when they gathered around an unlit light bulb; ‘Ah! Many hands make light work’ quips Spike …. and the lightbulb lit up; a wonderful example of the zany, timeless humour of that show.

This is my left hand (Note 3). Pseudo psychology would have me believe that if the ring finger is longer than the middle finger, I am poor, that if the middle finger is longer than the index finger I am rich, and if the ring and index finger are the same length you’re a genius. As I said: ‘pseudo psych’!

I wrote at the start of this postcard that we rely on our hands for so much. Spare a thought for Armi, a yoga friend from Naples, who works for the hairband Schwarzkopf. Over the years he developed repetitive strain injury in his left thumb, which eventually required the insertion of a metal rod.

He had his operation some weeks ago and the normal functionality is returning. There was debate about who owns the copyright to his X-ray …. so I am chancing he does!

You could add ‘hand’ to ‘writing’, ‘shake’, ‘cuff’, ‘ball’, ‘bell’, ‘to mouth’, ‘over fist’; or after ‘in’, ‘off’, ‘to’, ‘take in’. You could keep your hand in, lay your hand on, change hands, or even ‘win hands down’.

One of the greatest hits of the French singer Françoise Hardy’ was ‘Tous Les Garcons et Les Filles’, from 1962. It’s second verse started: ‘Et les yeux, dans les yeux, et la main, dans la main’  (And the eyes, in the eyes, and the hand, in the hand …). Like every song or lyric one adores, it’s on instant recall.

There is no space here to delve into the interesting mysteries and reading of the various lines on the palm of one’s hand. Palmistry has been around for centuries; who knows what a professional reading of mine would reveal, Oh! I don’t know, how any years I have left …… or whether I should just reflect that according to those beliefs about the lengths of my fingers …. I am a poor genius or a rich nincompoop!

…… if I could put my finger on it!

Richard 3rd July 2026

Evora Portugal

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Back in 1964 I hitched through the Low Countries. Here’s me trying my luck ….. to ‘thumb a ride’.

Note 1 I asked one of our fellow yogis, Daren, whether he remembered the ‘Four Candles’ sketch with Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett and he admitted to never having seen it. I told him a scruffy Barker walks into a hardware store and asks Corbett who, complete with brown coat, is behind the counter, for ‘fork handles’ (ie new wooden handles for large gardening forks.) Corbett hears ‘four c …. andles’, as Barker has dropped the aitch, and puts those on the counter. It continues ……..

Note 2 Imperial units of measurement work better here.

Note 3 Actually it’s my right hand but when you insert a photograph into a word document sometimes the software turns it through 180˚!

PC 497 Discussing Copyright with Duncan

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“You told me of your sister’s copyright infringement fine whilst at university, Duncan ….. (see PC 496) ….”

“Yes! So, what’s your sorry story?

“A sorry story indeed! I don’t think I am not alone in downloading images from the internet to share with chums, something you see interesting, beautiful, explanatory? ‘To share with chums’ ….. so not public! And you probably don’t worry about the original image’s ‘copyright’? Although if you do it to illustrate, for instance, a non-commercial newsletter, for a limited but public readership, you enter a minefield.”

“When I started The Hope Café I did search for suitable images for the promotional material …. and indeed for the posters for the walls, although I always imagined the original copyright was covered. Thankfully I didn’t need anything for your gifted triptych!”

A present to The Hope Café

“My first postcards were emailed to a very small group. Then I created my www.postcardscribbles.co.uk public site and started embedding the odd photograph to make them more interesting. Finding the right photograph was fun, often through Google. Some of my postcards have covered the Post Office scandal; meeting Sami, the ex-PO submanager made bankrupt by the fines imposed on him, here in The Hope Café gave a personal dimension to the story and in one PC I used a photo of Sir Alan Bates and in another one of Betty Brown OBE; both photographs taken off the internet.

Then, out of the blue, I receive this from one of the media giants: “To whom it may concern, We are contacting you regarding the use of our imagery on your website postcardscribbles.co.uk. We don’t have any record of our content being licensed for this use. …….. If you don’t have a licence, your use of our images would constitute an infringement of our copyright … note that removal alone does not resolve the matter.”

“Wow! I bet you gulped hard at that – and started sweating?

“Did I ever! The bottom line was ……  ‘We, Mega Media company, own the copyright and you should pay over £1400 to avoid an immediate fine of £5000’ ….. something like that! I paid ….. and had a sleepless night …. then I got another fine ….. and I began thinking it was a scam! I contacted my bank’s fraud hotline and explained. They gave me the bonafide Mega Media Customer Services email and telephone number and soon I am having an email exchange with their ‘Copyright Enforcement Specialist’ Adam; sounded very Big Brother!”

“Didn’t you know any lawyer who could give you advice?”

“It’s a very specialist area and not one three friends who are lawyers are familiar with. But another friend, bless her, asked Chat GPT, who she calls ‘Gerald’ (!) …… I will summarise what it wrote:

‘This is a common trap for non-commercial newsletters. I’m not a lawyer, (!!) so treat this as general info. For years, rights holders rarely chased individuals for non-commercial use. That changed around 2015-2018 when automated systems made it cheap to send thousands of letters. Software generates a letter claiming, “unauthorised use” and demanding a “settlement fee” that’s much higher than a normal license. They rely on fear.’

“Well, it’s right there! Exactly how you acted, out of fear! The huge advances in AI make it a doddle to scan billions of pages worldwide in seconds. What else?”

“Gerald went on:

‘The bottom line was: ‘If he copied/pasted an image from Google and used it without a license, that’s infringement under the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Copyright infringement is “strict liability” – intent and profit don’t matter. If it went to court, a judge would look at what a license would have cost. For a non-commercial newsletter to 450 people, a single image license is typically £20-£150, not thousands.

“Did Gerald suggest what you should do?”

“One of the positives about AI is that it often does. In my case Gerald said:

Step 1: Stop doing it and don’t ignore the email.
Step 2: Check who’s demanding money. (Scams exist too)
Step 3: Don’t pay the “penalty” amount as-is – the first demand is usually inflated.
Step 4: Respond with a “mitigation” letter. This often gets it settled for £100-£300 per image.

If I needed photographs for a future postcard, I should look at public domain images in Wikimedia Commons, or on Royalty-free sites like Unsplash, Pexels, Pixabay, which are all free for editorial use.”

I squirmed and wrote an obsequious email, which went something like:

‘Since 2014 I have written a weekly electronic postcard and post them on WordPress. I have a hundred or so regular readers (actually a few hundred!!) and topics have covered my own career, sailing, travel, observations about life and current affairs. As a member of the older generation, it’s good to keep my brain active ….. I make no money from these literary efforts. Suddenly I am charged over £1400 for using two photographs. Not sure where this will come from but there was a threat of an immediate £5000 fine so paid up. Can I appeal? Is it fair? On what basis are the charges made? Advice please?”

In amongst the reply I was asked for a printout of my ‘Profit & Loss’ account!! I got a reduction and removed my old postcards.”

“What if someone wants to read one from your back catalogue of almost 500, as often you refer to an old one in a new postcard?”

“They would need to ask me by email. When all’s said and done, Duncan, the individuals who produced the photograph, the artwork, in the first place need to earn a crust.”

“But for you, Richard, David & Goliath or Sledgehammers & Nuts come to mind!!”

Richard 26th June 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS On Tuesday it was announced that Getty Images, one of the world’s largest photography agencies, has signed a multi-year licensing agreement with OpenAI, months after it lost a high-profile copyright infringement claim against another artificial intelligence developer. The deal will mean images from its library will appear within ChatGPT’s search display, bringing more visual features into the chatbot. 

PC 496 Still in The Hope

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….. Continued ……. (From PC 495)

“Incidentally Sami, when you told me you and Lisa had been to Marsala, the name rang a distant bell, something to do with a good friend Eddie who lives in Weymouth. I looked up my notes. He’d written:

‘My great grandfather (Ed: Born 9th October 1888) worked for the Woodhouse Winery, selling Marsala wines to the Royal Navy. Wine is fortified with brandy to increase its longevity and is a suitable alternative to rum. (Note 1) After Brexit (Note 2) there was some excitement amongst family members knowing that my grandfather had been born in Marsala and that a route to an Italian passport might open. Unfortunately, he was born in the English Consulate and hence not on Italian soil!! Today Marsala is the most western town in Sicily and houses in the museum a Punic ship, one of many which invaded the country in 397BC, to actually start habitation there.’

“Richard, we went to that museum (Museo Archeologico Lilybaeum Baglio Anselmi), the one with the Punic ship. The Carthaginian military long-ship was discovered in 1971 off the shore of Isola Lunga and is thought to have been sunk around 241BC during the First Punic War.”

“And who were the Punics?”

“Phoenician-Carthaginians who fought the Roman Empire in three separate conflicts from 264 to 146BC, for dominance over the western Mediterranean.”

“My knowledge of the history of that time is extremely sketchy, but I do have a bottle of Marsala, which I use for cooking!!”

“Eddie, that’s his name (?), would be pleased! But I think he’d prefer you to drink it!”

“Probably! Coincidentally he rang me on Tuesday and we caught up …… he sent me a photograph of the Woodhouse Winery, now known as Bianchi”

“What other news is there Richard?” asks Mo.

“Well, I love black pepper and the coarser-ground the better. I add it to goat’s cheese, watermelon, strawberries as well as anything savoury! I have a number of grinders but particularly like a pair from Audo Copenhagen, whose design, shape and feel I adore; very tactile!”

“So, this is your news?”

“No! No! I must have had these for more than 8 years and, over time, the sweat from my hands has become somewhat ingrained into the ceramic material, to the point they looked very grubby and felt sticky – not nice! It took a while, but the tried and tested combination of vinegar and baking soda …….

has removed all the grime and they are like new!”

“That’s a really good tip … and eco-friendly!! Didn’t you go up to see your second grandson’s first boxing bout on Sunday?”

“I did. Reuben will be 13 next month so this was a big deal. It was a ‘skills only’ fight, so no ‘winner’ but both boys did really well; they had three one-and-a-half minute rounds. I reflected that our natural instinct is to back off when someone comes at you, so to get stuck in with what is termed ‘controlled aggression’ is a good skill. He obviously enjoyed himself as he wants a pair of boxing boots for his birthday!

Reuben in red

Back at his parents’ house, I was chuffed to see the little leather loops used to suspend their wooden spoon.”

Sami and Mo looked at me querulously. I explained:

“You may remember that I believe there’s a tradition in the UK of giving a wooden spoon as a housewarming gift? I imagined my daughter had enough ordinary sized ones, so wanted a big one and eventually made her one (See PC 442 Wooden Spoons June 2025). Actually, I made two; the first one I kept.

Jade’s is the longer one

Once it was delivered, there was much discussion about how to hang it, for it was never going to be used to stir the ratatouille. Hooks? Brackets? Hanging by a piece of rope? One day I had an original lightbulb moment; why not create a loop out of leather. I drew out my idea ……

….. and took it to Peter at ‘Clever with Leather’ in a basement workshop on Tidy Street in Brighton, together with a very old RM Williams belt that had seen better days. Adam in Timpson’s in Hove had recommended him and what a find; a little treasure trove of all things leather ….! Within 30 minutes Peter had fashioned two loops with press studs.

The two pieces of the old belt with studs

These were screwed to the kitchen wall and the spoon was in place!”

“That looks great. Must go and see Peter as I have a favourite handbag which needs some TLC” says Mo.

“Call him first as his hours of work are not regular.”

Duncan came over. He’d heard I’d had an issue with those owning the copyright to photographs and images on the internet and wanted to commiserate. His sister is an opera singer and some years ago, when she had been at university, she and some chums had organised a recital tour in Berlin. As part of their promotional material, they had added a generic photograph of Berlin, taken off the internet. A few weeks later the owner of the copyright got on touch. They had to pay some £800 which meant the planned tour the following year couldn’t go ahead, as there were no funds.

“What’s your story, Richard?”

To be continued ……

Richard 19th June 2026

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Royal Navy personnel had a daily rum ration. It started in the mid-1600s and was abolished on 31 July 1970, as the operation of modern complex equipment needed a clear head!

Note 2 For those readers who live outside of the UK; one of the results of withdrawal from The European Union was travelling to it was more difficult. As a member, it was seamless between countries. The possession of an EU-country passport became a prize and a huge effort was made to uncover ancestral links that might have given the seeker the qualification to apply.