life

PC 471 Another Tale  

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Most of us are too busy to read much at this time of the year, so here’s something I wrote last year, which is just another tale. And if you don’t read it that doesn’t matter either!

“I had only the vaguest of directions, in the form of a land survey map and some handwritten notes from the solicitors, but as I neared what I thought was about my destination, I could sense my heart beginning to beat faster, the excitement palpable; I pulled into the verge. Somewhere down this deserted country road, 100 miles in from the coast north of Sydney, was a five-barred gate. Sure enough 50 metres away there was an old wooden gate, hanging at an odd angle from a large timber post, rather unkempt and unloved; across the top bar was the name, “Standby”, burned into the wood by an untrained hand. A track led through the gums and over a small hillock; clearly no one had travelled this way for a while, so thick was the red dust and the absence of tyre tracks.

So much had happened since I had received that letter from Wilcock & Brown, a firm of solicitors in Sydney, in London two months before, informing me that a long-lost relative had left me a station in New South Wales. Being rather vague about the family tree, I had rung my grandfather, to see if he could enlighten me.

“Come down and see me, dear boy”, more an order than an invitation! A few days later we had had sat around the coffee table in his drawing room, doing a cursory search of some dusty albums and box files. He’d told me how James Ruse, his great great grand-father’s half-brother, had been one of the first European settlers and the first to be deeded land in Australia, thirty acres at Parramatta, west of Sydney. James had prospered and had bought tracts of land as future investments. One was far north of Sydney, which he had let to a fellow settler, who had gradually built up a sizeable holding. Over the years my grandfather had rather lost touch with his extended family relatives in Australia and had no clue as to how the station had come to be left to me.

Grandpa’s parting comment still rang in my ears: “Why don’t you go and have a look? You have nothing to lose, it could be a wonderful adventure and you can come back and tell me all about it.”

Certainly, I had to take a look, if only out of curiosity, but I had no experience of running anything bigger than my back garden, the size of postage stamp, in South London, so I would probably sell the station. After the long flight to Sydney and a few days to get over the jetlag, here I was, north of Newcastle. I remember smiling as I passed a sign on the road to Booti Booti, without knowing how it came to be so named and how I would become intimately involved with those words. Then I spied ‘Standby’ on that gate.

At the top of a rise in the track I caught a glimpse of buildings in the distance, half hidden by gums, with a water tower and fences that formed cattle pens. The nearer I got, details of the main house became clearer, classic colonial ranch style, with a large overhanging roof and wide verandas at both ground and first floor level. I had arranged to meet the man who had been looking after Standby since my relative had died, at noon. It was almost that time now, judging by the position of the sun, burning down from the cloudless sky, and yet there appeared to be no one around. 

I parked my car in the shade of a large barn, walked across to the main house and up the steps to the front door, which opened to my push. Inside, dust lay on everything, on the furniture, across the floors and the windows; my finger ran across the table in the dining room, underneath the dust the surface of a lovingly polished mahogany table, obviously brought out from England many years before. The interior was cool and pleasantly laid out, with the main rooms off the central corridor, and the kitchen at the far end.

I was just about to explore the first floor when steps sounded on the veranda. Framed in the doorway was the slender frame of a woman, a broad-brimmed hat on her head, bare arms and legs, and a flowing skirt; in her right hand was a basket. The strong sunlight made it difficult to see any detail of her face and I walked back to the front door to introduce myself.

“Good afternoon”, I said, “my name’s Robert Harrison; you are?”

As I came closer, I could see she was probably in her late twenties, her skin the colour of milky coffee with large soulful eyes and a broad smile.

“G’day, I’m Clarissa; I am Winston’s daughter.”

Ah! Yes. Winston was the chap who was looking after the station. She told me he’d been delayed with some cattle about an hour’s ride away.

“Would you like some lunch? I’ve got some cheese and mangoes, and a bottle of beer. Why don’t you sit on the veranda and I will get it.” Without waiting for a reply, she brushed past me and headed for the kitchen. 

I sat in the shade, tasted the most delicious goat’s cheese, slurped my way through a couple of mangoes and quenched my thirst with the beer. Winston arrived about an hour later, riding into the yard on a rather rough looking black mare, accompanied by a cloud of reddish dust. We introduced ourselves and sat on the veranda whilst Winston told me something of the ranch. A hundred thousand acres of cattle station was mine if I wanted it. He suggested that the best way to see what Standby consisted of was to ride the land. He startled me as he yelled at Clarissa to saddle up a horse, but soon we were riding out of the station yard and up the hill to the east. It was late afternoon, the heat of the sun was easier now, and the kangaroos were coming down to the water holes to take their first drink and nibble the short grass. I looked back at the house, already deciding that here was a place I could live. The comparisons with England were few, it was an exciting idea and, although I knew nothing about cattle and running a station, seemed too good to turn down.

What was the alternative?  Whilst I had no illusions about how different and physically demanding it would be, I felt a surge of excitement as I following Winston over the hill and through the gums. We crossed dried-up river beds, through gullies and around ant hills as big as my horse; the air was dry but clear and there was a wonderful smell of eucalyptus. Some three hours later we rode back into the yard in the soft light of dusk; Clarissa came running out and took the reins and led the horses back to the stables.

I gratefully accepted the offer to stay the night and later, lying in bed wide awake, I wondered what I was letting myself in for.”

(To be Continued – maybe)

Richard 26th December 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Ideas always welcome!

PC 469 More from The Hope

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Sami and Lisa come in through the doors and, spying Mo and me, come over; it’s been too long since I had seen them both. I decide to treat them to some coffee and ordered an Americano for Sami and a Mocha for Lisa from Libby. Regular readers will know that Lisa was writing an article for Brighton & Hove’s Argus newspaper about low level health care and had asked my opinion. (See PC 457 Low Level Health Care September 2025)

“Hey you two! Lisa, I saw that your article was published in The Argus in mid-October. Will there be a follow-up?”

“Hope so; nothing certain but they liked my style.”

“And, Sami, I read that not only has Sir Alan Bates finally agreed a settlement in his claim against the Post Office but that a 92-year-old ex-postmistress has also finalised hers. Not before time you might think!” 

“Time passes, doesn’t it. I hadn’t realised Alan had started his campaign for justice for victims of the Horizon scandal more than twenty years ago. So pleased to understand part of his settlement includes compensation for those efforts”.

“Betty Brown fought for 22 years for justice after The Post Office accused her of false accounting after discrepancies in their County Durham branch books. She and her husband made up the £50k shortfall, which had been caused by erroneous Horizon software. Her husband died a year later. Then the Sunday Times, towards the end of November, had a poignant article about Michael Mann, accused of stealing £15,000 from his Post Office in 2013. In October that year Mike committed suicide, so depressed at being sacked from the job he loved. The public enquiry is now analysing the evidence it’s collected and is handing over files to the Metropolitan Police for possible criminal charges. Operation Olympos has so far identified seven suspects, with a formal prosecution expected to begin in 2028; nothing seems guaranteed and meanwhile those wrongly convicted wither.”

“You probably missed the obituary of Lam Leung-tim ……”

“Who he?”

“A Chinese businessman who created ‘a kingdom from nothing’ after the Japanese occupation of China during the Second World War. His name sadly will not be familiar but one of his plastic toys, the little yellow duck, will be.

Who hasn’t had one in their bath, if you have a bath in which to float it nowadays(?), or indeed watched one of the many ‘Yellow Duck Races’.”

“Ah!” Says Mo, “There’s one held every year on the River Arun during the Arundel Festival of The Arts, here in Sussex. Two thousand yellow ducks, each with a number corresponding to a £1 ticket, are poured from a bag from a bridge.

The winning duck earns its owner £100, second and third £50 and £25 respectively and the remaining money goes to local charities. All the ducks are cleared from the river by the Arun Divers Club.”

“Did you know,” Sami interrupts, “that Lam says he made a ‘pleasant mistake’; there’s an old Chinese saying ‘yellow goose and green duck’ ….. but Lam made his duck yellow! He lived to 101.”

“Wow! That’s a lovely anecdote to our love of the yellow ducks.”

“How was your birthday, Richard?” asked Lisa “Not sure Sami told me”, she said, looking at her partner quizzically.

“Great. Dinner in a new restaurant in Church Road, Maré, and all the normal birthday stuff, including birthday wishes from Joe at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Base. (see PC 403 Idle Thoughts about This and That September 2024)

You’ll have to take my word for it, as you could argue that the email could have come from anywhere! Joe owns one of the apartments in Gilmour House, the other half of Amber House. His contract finished at the end of October and he’s on his way back to Hove, via Thailand and SE Asia.”

Mo butts in: “You’ll have a view, Richard, about the budget last month; what did you think of the removal of the Child Benefit Cap?”

“I had to check the facts. Previously you could claim the benefit for every child; you’d qualify if you’re responsible for a child under 16 and live here, providing neither parent earns more than £80,000. New rules were introduced in 2017, limiting it to two children. The aim was to end the iniquity of workless households getting paid by the state for having larger families than those with jobs could afford. Today families on Universal Credit, which is typically means-tested, get £3500 per child. In removing the cap by April 2026, the government aims to lift hundreds of thousands of children out of poverty. Critics of the lifting of the ban argue there’s no real measure of ‘poverty’, it should be down to parental responsibility to decide how many children to have and whether they are affordable, and that it’s not for The State to say: ‘we’ll pay more and more’.

“You know my view Richard.” says Mo. “If you want to have children, you have to understand that there is a cost involved and there’s a responsibility for both parents, the mother and the father. There’s been an increase of about 10% in the number of families headed up by a single parent since 2019. Mothers make up 85% of the 3 million single parent families here in the UK. Not sure how you can change this, educating society about basic responsibilities, be more draconian about financial support from the absent parent? The more the state helps financially the less incentive there is to change. Don’t think Joe and Joanna Public are in favour of lifting the ban.”

“I do feel a bit concerned that the ‘Ship of State’ is captained by someone who’s just qualified, that most of his crew try hard to please him but have little professional experience, and there’s an ongoing dispute as to the destination, let alone how to navigate there.”

Richard 12th December 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS The knife was successful!

PC 468 Only The Lonely

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For those of a certain age, the title should immediately take you back to the early sixties and Roy Orbison’s hit song and its lyrics: ‘Only the lonely, know the way I feel tonight; Only the Lonely, know this feeling ain’t right.’ Or, taking the last word of the title, Justin Bieber’s 2021 hit ‘Lonely’. Mud had a 1975 hit single ‘Lonely This Christmas’, about a relationship breakdown at a time of family get-togethers.

My dictionary defines ‘lonely’ as ‘solitary, companionless, isolated.’ Not to be confused with ‘alone’ – standing by oneself.

“What are you writing about?” asks Francisquinha, looking over my shoulder.

Francisquinha – read PCs 172 and 217 for more understanding

“Well. I was thinking about scribbling ….”

“I like that word, scribbling, gives a sense of free-flowing thoughts!”

“Thank you; probably about right! Anyway, I was drafting some thoughts about friends, family and that sort of stuff …..”

“I know I’m very much ‘family’, but I’m not sure about George.”

“Ah! Yes! George, the bear given to you by the staff of the George Hotel in Christchurch. To add to the bear given to you by the crew on our Singapore Airlines flight, and the stuffed little lamb from the manager of the Sofitel Viaduct hotel in Auckland. Weren’t you spoilt? But you’ve kept George?”

“I have. I had a choice and something gelled with him and me; choosing who your friends are is so important. In the back of my mind, I know I have a family who live in The Warren but that doesn’t make them friends, just because they are kith and kin. I sense he’s going to be a good friend but not sure what really makes a ‘good friend’. What do you think?”

“It must start with mutual attraction, and this could be physical or mental, shared or even contrasting interests, possibly shared experiences and background. You need to be able to trust someone, for without trust there’s nothing. It may be anecdotal now, but there was that initial exercise individuals attending a Family Institute course did on the first evening: ‘Without speaking, pair up with someone else.’ Once everyone had paired up, well 99% of them because there’s always someone who can’t, for some deep-seated reason, they were asked to discover why you were attracted, one to the other. Shared backgrounds trigger a feeling of attraction without any conscious awareness, just as an unconscious bias and filtering colour our preference for people we might be familiar with.”

“Are we friends?”

“What, you and Celina and me?

“Yes! I have been with you for many years; you take me on all your adventure, I have my own passport, but you often talk about me behind my back.”

“Bit unfair! Think we both wonder what you would have said, how you would have behaved, given certain criteria and given that you’re a fluffy rabbit. And we value your contribution to our love and friendship, often offering a nicely nuanced opinion.”

“I guess to be a real friend you need to be able to accept someone for who they are, not what you would like them to be!”

“Now that is often the nub of the issue, acceptance, allowing others to be who they want to be. Here in Brighton & Hove there are countless examples of individuals feeling comfortable in their own skin, feeling unconsciously accepted by everyone. One major issue, Francisquinha, is that we often, almost certainly, change over our lifetime and sometimes our friends don’t respect our decisions and choices and one wonders whether they remain a real friend.”

“You have an example?”

“Actually, I do! You know I got addicted to Hot Yoga, so much so that it’s part of who I am, what I do, what Celina and I do. I love the mental and physical challenge, although I appreciate it’s not for everyone. Someone who was a good friend has often asked, in a snide and derisory manner: ‘Still doing your yoga?’. So, I question that ‘real’ friendship.”

“Can we, you and me, be friends for life?”

“Oh! Yes. One of the things we love about you is that you listen and that’s such an important part of being a friend. When people want you to listen, they want you to listen to what they’re saying, patiently, not for you to second guess what they might say. Sometimes people are more interested in speaking than listening, looking into their own memory bank to match your experience, your situation. To fully process what’s being said, you need to listen, and listen good. That’s another attribute of a good friend.”

“George told me he was lonely before he came to stay with me, I mean us.”

“And now?”

“Well, he’s always liked being alone, happy with his own company, but he now appreciates he was also lonely.”

“Loneliness is a huge issue for human society, particularly when individuals haven’t made or kept long-term friendships, not making the continual effort that these require. Real loneliness can lead to a gradual reduction in how one takes care of oneself, the ‘why bother?’, and fortunately in the UK this is being recognised by the NHS. The new term is a ‘Social Prescription’, which helps to connect people to community groups and services, to meet social, emotional and practical needs that affect their health and well-being. Instead of medication, the links help a person to find groups like art classes, walking groups or gardening clubs for instance. These are particularly beneficial for those with loneliness, long term health conditions or complex social needs, aiming to improve overall health and therefore reduce pressure on the NHS.”

“You were reading an article the other day about how schools and residential homes for the elderly were coming together to encourage higher standards of reading.”

“Indeed. That seems a Win -Win, relieving aspects of potential loneliness in the elderly and improving children’s reading ability.”

“Would you drop everything for a friend in need?”

“Genuine need? Of course. That’s what friends are for!”

“I have one final question: “What’s Love Got To Do With It?”

“Ah! Yes. The one and only Tina Turner. What indeed?”

Richard 4th December 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Posted on Thursday 4th as am under the knife tomorrow, Friday!

PC 467 Hope News Continues

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“Sorry Richard! That took a long time. Coming back from the loo I got side-tracked by Josh who wanted to ask about my mother. I have read your postcards about your Australia – New Zealand trip (PCs 458, 459, 460, 462, 463 & 464) ….. you obviously had a good time, jetlag notwithstanding. Anything you haven’t mentioned?”

“Now you’ve reminded me, in Perth, walking back from Kings Park, we came across a couple of young chaps standing beside their car which had a flat front tyre. They looked rather pathetic, so I asked if they had a problem.”

“No! Thanks! My brother/cousin/flat mate’s coming to give us a hand.”

“But you’ve only got a flat tyre. Can’t you change it?”

“Never had to before; no idea how to! Here’s the jack, but where does that go?”

“So …..” and I get a look from Celina as I have a mild hernia and shouldn’t force anything, “…… the first thing to do is loosen the wheel nuts whilst the wheel is on the ground. Good garages will tighten them with a torque wrench; others use an impact wrench which can easily exceed the recommended torque (Note 1) and they are almost impossible to undo.”

At that point their brother/cousin/flat mate turned up, looking reasonably confident, so I left them to it but mentioning a torque wrench reminded me of my Army Service.

In 1968, 27 Medium Regiment moved from Devizes, Wiltshire to Lippstadt, Germany, swapping our towed 5.5̋ howitzers for the self-propelled M109. The latter had seven idler wheels between the track sprockets. Each wheel was attached by a number of large nuts, which we assumed had to be tightened to the maximum. After three months in Germany, the Aluminium idler wheels were showing signs of extreme wear and many had to be replaced. Eventually the problem was identified; the tightness of the nuts needed to be to a certain torque, and that could only be achieved by using a torque wrench, not by Gunner Elrick who believed they should be as tight as physically possible.”

“Live and learn huh! Although these days some newer cars don’t seem to have a spare tyre! By the way, have you ever watched ‘Celebrity Who Dares Wins’, one of those celebrity television programmes where you don’t know any of the contestants? I’m sure you have; anyway, I was fascinated to listen to some of the individual ‘back stories ’in the last series. There was a man whose family were very committed to their church. As a six-year-old he was horrified to be told by the pastor that he had demons that needed to be exorcised. As an adult he questioned how someone could be so cruel. Another contestant’s career was going well, until her sister died suddenly and she had to step in and look after her eight children.”

“Ready-made family!”

“Exactly, but can you imagine that, your own plans and ideas for your life suddenly and completely put on hold? Anyway, then there was a black ex-footballer who recalled not being able to find a UK club so signed for Lithuania, only to be the subject of racist chants from the stands: ‘Zigger zigger, kill the nigger!’ And finally there was a singer auditioning for the show X Factor, who got wasted one evening, was raped by the hotel porter, …… and became the victim when thrown off the show. Years later these experiences are life-defining. Talking of life defining, how are your daughter’s house renovation coming on?”

“Certainly life defining, but in a pleasant way. I drove up to see her and the state of the house during Half Term week. So often these days I need to break my journey for a pee-break.

“Isn’t there some theory that one of the factors in the cause of vehicle accidents is the full bladder of the driver?”

“I have heard, yes, that but not sure whether it’s based on any statistics. Not the sort of question you ask someone who’s just been involved in an accident: “Excuse me, do you need to go to the loo?”

“No! I guess not! Anyway, you were saying …..”

“I pulled into the layby on the Hogs Back, a prominent ridge running east west between Guildford and Farnham and know as the Hogs Back since the time of Jane Austen, knowing the little café had some loos.

The lay-by and little café can be seen on the right of the dual carriageway

It was raining quite heavily and I scurried down the concrete path, following the signs to the loos, which were round the back. I get to the Men’s; it’s locked and you need a code, presumably from the café. My expectation was that the loo would be open and I am getting desperate – and wet! There is no alternative but to water the weeds growing between the cracks in the concrete.”

“I am sure that happens to a lot of men; we women don’t really have that option! Have you been watching the historian David Olusoga’s ‘Empire’ three-part series on the BBC?”

“I have, Mo, and I’m glad I have, as so often you get the ‘British Empire was bad’ bias whereas David’s tried to create balance and a modern reflection. I was fascinated by the explanation of the Indentured Labour Scheme, brought in to provide the sugar plantations with workers after the abolition of slavery in 1834.”

“It was a huge success for the plantation owners, but most workers came from the poorest parts of British India, and many were unaware of the long distance they would travel and indeed the terms of their contract. They were paid a paltry sum and had to stay for five years. The scheme was active for 80 years and its results can be seen today in the significant communities of Indian descent in South Africa, East Africa, the Caribbean and Mauritius.  Why were you fascinated by this?”

“David mentioned how Prime Minister Gladstone’s father had owned sugar plantations in Guyana and was one of the major instigators of the Indentured Labour Scheme. One of our yoga chums, Serena Wells, is from Guyana and she and her father are going to try and find out more about their family history, as ‘Wells’ was a common surname for slaves.”

“Now that will be interesting. Oh! Look, there’s Sami and Lisa …..”

Richard 28th November 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Why have Christmas decorations suddenly appeared in mid-November? Now the radio stations are broadcasting carols! Humbug?!

Note 1 Wheel nuts should be torqued to between 80 and 160 Nm (Newton-meter)

PC 461 Bumped into Sami

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There’s been so much to write about from our time in Singapore, Australia and New Zealand that I wondered whether I should pause this week and scribble about something else. Coincidentally I bumped into Sami outside Gail’s at the bottom of George Street here in central Hove the other afternoon, so we popped in for a small cake and a coffee; walking to The Hope Café would take too long!

Luana, a Brazilian living in Hove, was not on shift; they have a high turnover of staff and I don’t recognise anyone, then the local manager Steve comes down from upstairs. It’s quieter on the first floor so we go up there!

Sami starts the chit-chat.

“Good to get a fresh perspective on life through travelling, isn’t it? I know I certainly do and you know what, people moan about the state of the United Kingdom, but every country has issues, often exactly the same as ours!”.

“You’re right, Sami. Talking to a relative who works in the health care system in Rotorua in New Zealand, about the crisis in the young and their ‘mental health’, she says it’s exactly the same there. Most have been allowed to opt out of working, whereas they should be encouraged to opt in! Whilst I was in New Zealand I read of the very interesting developments here with regard to the use of weight-loss drugs to combat obesity.”

“You thinking of our gallant Secretary of State for Health and Social Care, Wes Streeting?”

“Indeed. He wants to make these weight-loss drugs more freely available through the NHS. Personally, I think this is absolutely the wrong approach to tackling the country’s fat-verging-on-obesity crisis. Then I read Emma Duncan’s column in The Times ‘The UK’s Addiction to State benefits can be broken’. Think she’s bang on when she writes: “Although genes play a role, the primary determinants of obesity are what you eat, how much you eat and how much you exercise. Obesity is thus largely a matter of personal choice. Unfortunately, the government is reluctant to conduct a campaign like the one on the dangers of smoking, because it fears that fat people would be offended by the implication that they are responsible for their excess weight.” And you’ve heard my views before. Unless you are force-fed, you alone are responsible for putting food into your mouth!”

“I saw this the other morning in an NHS hospital waiting room; the left hand one stopped me in my tracks! Sign of the times huh!”

“OMG! No way?”

“Ah! Yes! ‘Personal Choice’. Isn’t that the one of the very basic differences between socialism and conservatism? Socialism regards people as the victims of impersonal economic forces. Conservatism sees them as individuals in charge of their own destiny. Labour voters are much likelier to believe that “people’s success in life depends mostly on factors beyond their control”; Conservatives that it is the consequence of “their own merit and efforts”. Then we have this ridiculous nonsense about ‘mental health’. Because political parties need voters’ approval, they are unwilling to tell people uncomfortable truths — such as that feeling anxious and stressed is a normal part of working life! Have you written any letters to The Times recently Richard?”

“Funnily enough …… being married to a Brazilian encourages me to keep up-to-date about their macro issues, like the trial of ex-President Bolsonaro. I read this in The Times on the 12th September: “Bolsonaro will not be jailed immediately. He will remain under house arrest at his apartment within a gated compound in the capital, Brasilia. ­According to Brazilian law, a full appeal against the conviction is not possible because only one judge disagreed with the unanimous decision.”

“And you immediately thought it wasn’t a unanimous decision if one judge disagreed?”

“Exactly! Sadly, The Times didn’t publish my short letter. Then I realised that when you pronounce ‘unanimous’, it starts with a ‘you’ sound, whereas for instance ‘unambiguous’ starts with a ‘un’ sound. This is the English language, in all its complexity of pronunciation; then I thought of usual (you!) or unusual (un). Fascinating!”

“Whatever floats your boat!”

“Incidentally, Sami, do you have a will, outlining what should happen to your assets when you die?”

“Oh! Yes. Doesn’t take long and it makes sense, helping your executor sort out your estate. Why do you ask?”

“Families become complicated sometimes. We know of someone who settled in another country and told their father they didn’t want any share in his estate. For whatever reason, he either didn’t believe them, wanted to show his generosity, however misplaced, or didn’t make a will. Now they are continually being drawn back to sort out some legal tangle. There’s a lesson here; a will makes matters easier for those you leave behind.”

“Richard, have been meaning to ask you; when did you I start adding the geographic location of where your postcards are sent from, which, if it’s one about travel, maybe completely different?”

“I guess trying to be accurate! In years gone by I remember buying postcards abroad and, if the shop didn’t have sell stamps, forget to buy them somewhere else. I would find them in my suitcase when I got home and post them using a British stamp. Then I wondered what the recipient would have preferred, the photograph showing some exotic location, the foreign stamp or the simple message ‘thinking of you/wish you were here’.

“You still obsessed with your hot yoga?”

“Actually, I am and it’s one obsession I am happy to be controlled by. Great for staying reasonably fit, good for its mental challenge and I need a regular routine. On Friday it’s something of a milestone; it’ll be my 4000th session. I started in March 2009 so have averaged 250 per year for 16 years! Never too late, never too old to start; you thinking of joining Celina and me, Sami?”

“Er! Got to go, Richard. Good to see you and we’ll get together in The Hope Café shortly.”

And off he went, down the stairs, muttering to himself …. ‘If he thinks I’m going to ……’ then he was out of earshot!

Richard 17th October 2025

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS I have an Excel spreadsheet that tracks my sessions …..

20096520163162023174
201022220171802024144
201133920183132025124
20123432019287
20132492020288
20142702021218
20152792022189

PC 452 Had to have a coffee!

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On a run, with our two weeks holiday in Hove (Note 1) coming to an end, I popped into The Hope Café on Tuesday afternoon in the off chance I would find Sami and maybe, Lisa, as I felt we hadn’t caught up completely last week (see PC 451 A Quick Hope Café Visit August 2025). It’s been a very busy fortnight; a quick trip to my daughter and family, a visit to the minus 86°C cold chamber in CryoBright (see PC 429 Behind The Glass March 2025), creating something in my art room, moving my ‘pond project’ forward, dyeing a hat and some cool hot yoga classes, as the studio’s heater had decided to have a holiday too! Fortunately, by last Friday, halfway through class, the engineer got it going; phew!

I sat at one of the familiar tables and await Sami’s arrival.

“Hi! Richard. How are you?”

“Had a busy couple of weeks and back to Portugal tomorrow, the 13th. It’s my mother-in-law’s birthday on Sunday so important we are there; I am making a cake and we’re taking the candles! You’re buzzing to tell me something …..”

“You watched that television series recently, ‘Slow Horses’? I know you did because we’ve talked about it. Well, I’ve started reading Mick Herron’s thrillers that inspired the series – and they’re brilliant too. And you know when you read a paragraph, a phrase, and you think that’s so good or so apt or so clever, you make a note somewhere?”

“I do all the time ……..”

“Well, how about this? Just brilliant! “There was a phrase: the slippery slope. …… But Catherine’s journey had been more moving staircase than slippery slope; a slow downwards progression; a bore rather than a shock. Looking across at the people heading upwards and wondering if that was a better idea. But somehow knowing she’d have to reach the bottom before she could change direction.” I really relate to that!”

“Isn’t that lovely! Unable to stop going to the end ……; clever! Sami, my main focus this week has been on jeans. I read ‘blue jeans’ and I immediately think of the greatest singer of all time, Neil Diamond and his ‘Forever in Blue Jeans’; that’s my personal opinion and others may have other ‘greatest singer of all time’? But the material, Denim (Note 2), features in other lyrics, ‘Lady in Blue Jeans’ (The Red & White Band) and ‘Venus in Blue Jeans’ by Jimmy Clanton from 1962. I am sure there are countless others.

I imagine everyone has a few pairs of jeans, some pristine, some battered and threadbare, some expensive for special occasions (Note 3) and a pair that was quite cheap. Before I started my postcards, in 2010 I joined my daughter and son-in-law on a narrow boat for a night and that we had unexpected heavy rain. I got soaked and hadn’t packed a spare pair of trousers. Sam’s mother and stepfather were coming for supper and asked whether we needed anything; a spare pair of trousers?

Sandie and Richard duly arrived with some pudding for supper and an orange Sainsbury’s plastic bag: “I found some jeans in the supermarket, Richard!” And they fitted really well. “How much do I owe you?” “Well, they were on a promotion, 25% off, and so they were £4.50!” The world is completely crazy, when you can buy a pair of jeans for the price of an expensive coffee. I felt sorry for the workers in the sweatshop factory where they were made; and they lasted as long as more expensive pairs.”

“Why are you telling me this Richard?” (Ed. We all know people who bang on about uninteresting stuff!)

“You saw the fuss in America about a jeans advertisement, featuring some model called Sydney Sweeney?”

“Actually this particular nugget of gossip passed me by. Pray tell …..”

“I was made aware of the story by the Times’ American columnist Gerald Baker who wrote: ‘A couple of weeks ago, American Eagle launched the campaign in which Sweeney offers a new way of selling one of America’s oldest clothing products: denim. Lying supine on a chaise longue, wearing only jeans and a jacket in the fabric that built a nation, she murmurs, in a voice that no artificial intelligence application programmed to produce a parody of sexy sultriness could possibly contrive: “Genes are passed down from parents to offspring, often determining traits like hair colour, personality and even eye colour. My jeans are blue.” In short: a statement of a simple scientific truth followed by a homophonic pun. Not the greatest work of copywriting in the history of the advertising business, but not bad, as these things go.’”

“So why the drama …….?”

“Because the woke brigade, thankfully apparently a dying breed, considered it a ‘speech crime’. For some an endorsement of “eugenics”, for others the belief the phrase “good genes” had been “historically used to celebrate whiteness, thinness and attractiveness”.  I never knew, Sami; always taking things generally at face value and not creating some theory out of nothing! Baker went on to write: “The Sweeney advertisement, by contrast, is a sign of the times. Not some glorification of whiteness or the “genes” that produce it but a recognition by a company that it is safe to celebrate an appealing human being, whatever colour, gender, sexuality he or she is. American Eagle’s stock price went up 30% in the last two weeks!”

“Well I am pleased that ‘woke’ is becoming unfashionable; less ‘brigade’, more ‘platoon’!”

“Ah! Very good Sami.”

Lisa butts in: “Richard, I’m writing an article about the provision of health care at the lowest levels in the UK, at the General Practitioners’ level, in medical and wellness centres. Can I get your views when you’re back from Portugal?”

“Of course! But on a trivial level, I am always amused when a doctor ushers you into their consulting room with a “How are you?”, as you probably wouldn’t be there if you were ‘OK’!”

Richard 15th August 2025

Estoril, Portugal

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 This is a rather odd feeling, having a holiday at home, but that’s how it’s felt like.

Note 2 A contraction of its French origin – ‘sergé de Nîmes.

Note 3 Interesting that one can wear a pair of jeans for a ‘special occasion’ in 2025. Sixty years ago you wouldn’t have been allowed in certain restaurants wearing jeans!

PC 451 A Quick Hope Café Visit

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PC 451 A Quick Hope Café Visit

Back from two weeks in Portugal and then out again; it’s as if the two weeks here is like being on holiday, then Portugal becomes ‘home’. An odd sensation – but a nice one just the same. Managed to spend an hour on Monday afternoon in the Hope Café; the day when an unseasonal storm, Storm Floris, battered the northern half of Great Britain, with winds of 70 mph plus. Summer storms can pay havoc when the trees are in full leaf, as they offer more resistance to the wind and are prone to come crashing down!

Mo waves as she spies me at the counter; she looks a little sad, so I join her with my double espresso.

“You’re a bit down, Mo. Everything alright?

“It’s my mother, Richard. You remember she lives in a retirement home in Worthing? She’s 93 and she’s caught shingles. She didn’t have the vaccine some years ago and she suffering; so debilitating, a very painful rash.”

“It’s the same virus that causes Chickenpox, isn’t it? In Portugal they call it Herpes Zoster and it can reactivate in the body. Mario, a taxi driver we often use in Estoril, had it …… and then my sister-in-law, soon to be 44, also caught it. Fortunately, the antiviral treatment clears it up relatively quickly. Your poor mother.”

“Anyway, nothing we can do! You look well; how was Portugal?”

“Great! For me it’s a time to read a lot more, as well as walking and writing. Sounds idyllic huh!”

“Indeed, it does. Did you watch the football, the Women’s Euros 2025 at all?”

“I have a funny relationship with sport. I avidly watch the Six Nations Rugby fixtures, never normally watch football. Perversely I do follow the fortunes of our local Brighton & Hove Albion football team but more from my interest in its management and player development than the actual game! However, I am aware of the exponential rise in women’s football, of our national team The Lionesses, and how they were defending their Euros title. So, yes, I watched the final.”

“But you were in Portugal on 27th July and you wouldn’t have been able to follow the commentary as your knowledge of the language is crap! And anyway, Portugal would have been supporting Spain, so the pundits would have been biased. I watched it here but what did you do?”

 “I needed to find out how to watch an UK television channel abroad. I subscribe to Nord VPN (Virtual Private Network), so fooled the system by connecting to one of their hubs in Scotland. Then onto the BBC1 channel. The connection occasionally dropped out and I prayed that wasn’t when a goal was being scored! So, then it’s 1-1 after extra time and it’s the penalty shootout. The first English ball went into the back of the net but was disallowed as the striker slipped; must be a new rule! You understand I watched the game as its important for all sorts of reasons but have no knowledge of the players’ names or even some of the rules. Then someone called Chloe Kelly comes to the penalty spot, knowing that if she’s successful, it’s game over and England have won. Just as she steps back to take the kick, a banner headline comes across my iPad: “England have won Euros 2025”. I guess the broadcast I was watching had a time delay of a second or three!! Technology huh!”

“Ah! But well done them. I remember, Richard, you’ve sailed a lot, so you must have been interested in the coverage of Cowes Week, The Admiral’s Cup competition and the Fastnet Race?”

“Absolutely! Raced in Cowes Week many years ago but never competed in The Fastnet Race; my father did, in 1935 in a yacht called Amy.”

‘Amy’ Fastnet 1935

“Wow! And this year was its 100th run. Forgive my ignorance but what exactly is The Fastnet?”

“They leave Cowes, head down the English Channel, round the Bishop’s Rock lighthouse and head to the Fastnet Rock on the southern tip of Eire. Originally they headed back to Plymouth but for the last two races they’ve finished in Cherbourg in France. It’s about 690 miles long and used to take the winners over 5 days.”

“And this year?”

“The trimaran SVR Lazartigue was first over the finish line in 1day and 17 hours. It’s more like flying than sailing; averaging 15 knots with some runs at over 30 knots! The technology is amazing!

SVR Lazartigue rounding the Fastnet Rock and its lighthouse

Ordinary monohulled yachts took longer! ‘Black Jack’ took line honours in 2 days and 12 hours.”

“No regrets about not taking part?”

“No! But I did race from Tenerife to Bermuda one year and that was another story! (See PC 161 The Atlantic Sept 2019) Mo; must go and catch up with Sami, so see you when you’re back from France huh!”

I get another coffee and join Sami. Sami doesn’t waste time.

“I think you were having a go at those who decide the easy way to control their weight is by having these injections ……”

“Yes  …….”

“Well, in my scrap book I found this delightful cartoon – and cartoons that hit the spot are so clever.”

“Actually, the debate continues. NICE (Note 1) says that those coming off weight-loss drugs will, without the right support, simply put the weight back on.”

“OK! Incidentally your rabbit amuses me! I see that she got her passport stamped again when you came back from Portugal!”

“Yes. Although the Border Force lady asked her to look at her so she could compare her passport photograph! She can be very coy so she had to compose herself before she did”

“As I said, she amuses me!”

Richard 8th August 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Happy Birthday to my first cousin Caroline in Nanaimo on Vancouver Island and to my brother-in-law Carlos in Estoril, Portugal.

Note 1 The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence.