travel

PC 454 Portugal’s Estoril

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Estoril? Where’s that? Well, it’s west of Lisbon, just before you get to the Atlantic coast of Portugal.

According to Wikipedia, “Estoril is ‘a town in the civil parish of ‘Cascais e Estoril’, of the Portuguese Municipality of Cascais, on the Portuguese Riviera. It is a popular tourist destination with hotels, beaches and the Casino Estoril.

Estoril’s Casino

It has been home to numerous royal families and celebrities. It’s one of the most expensive places to live in Portugal and the Iberian Peninsula; it is home to a sizeable foreign community.” (Note 1)

Estoril, enclosed by the candy-striped line

Why Estoril? I’ll explain. My connections with Brazil, itself a former Portuguese colony, go back to 1851; my great grandfather Richard Sydney Corbett was born in Recife, on its northeast coast (See PC 34 Recife Brazil February 2015). More recently, I got to know Celina in the Balham Hot Yoga studio in 2011 and made my first visit to Rio de Janeiro in April 2012. When her brother Carlos decided to uproot his family and move to Portugal in 2016, he chose to live in Estoril. Their cousin Toni did the same and their mother spends six months of the year here; Celina and I have made the most of having a home-from-home here in Portugal! I have mentioned Estoril and neighbouring Cascais before in some of my postcards.

With no convenient Hot Yoga studio, we get our daily exercise by a long before-breakfast walk to Cascais and back, the five-mile circuit including some of Estoril’s most expensive real estate. For instance, up on Rua Bélgica there’s a monster of a house, its street frontage running for some 100m:

……. from the air you can see it’s rectangular in shape. Rumour has it its worth upwards of €10 million

In this particular area of Estoril, high up on a hill overlooking the sea, the streets reflect the country’s imperial past; names such as Rua Angola, Rua Timor, Rua Cabo Verde and Rua Brasil. Towards the southern end of Rua Inglaterra (Note 2), last year there was a house that needed some TLC. You can see it on this screenshot from Google Maps.

This year the house is gone and is being replaced by four structures that look more like warehouses than dwellings, with concrete rooves. You get one view from Rua Inglaterra:

And another from Rua Dom Afonso Henriques

The men working on these building projects are generally from Portugal’s African ex-colonies and most arrive around 7 o’clock at Monte Estoril station on the train from some cheaper dormitory village near Lisbon. Other arrivals disappear into the staff entrances of the many hotels here in Estoril.

Connecting Rua India and Rua Ingleterra is Rua Mouzinho de Albuquerque.

I wondered who he was …… and found out! A general, Joaquim Augusto Mouzinho de Albuquerque (1855 – 1902) was Governor of Mozambique. Portuguese society saw him as the hope and symbol of Portuguese reaction to threats against its interests in Africa from European empires. For example, in 1890, The British required Portugal to give up all the land between its African colony of Angola in the west and Mozambique in the east and gave it an ultimatum. Portugal was no match for the British Empire and acquiesced; the land became the British colonies of Malawi and Rhodesia. (See PC 353 ‘…. Of Cabbages and Kings’ September 2023)

Following a common Portuguese tradition, he married his cousin, but they didn’t have children (Note 3). He allegedly committed suicide at the entrance to the Jardim das Laranjeiras in Lisbon on 8th January 1902 aged 46.

Walking through the streets I am pleased to see wonderful examples of craftsmanship evident in the stone walls that surround some of the mansions. I first noticed it in Iposeira in Rio de Janeiro:

Then saw a couple of examples here in Estoril. Here’s the best:

Although maybe the builders are simply trying to copy nature?

Of course doing things the traditional way is generally very expensive, the cost of labour the critical factor. But it’s very sad when, in this particular area of expensive houses, there’s a great example of naffness. The owner, who could probably afford the real thing, substitutes some hedge greenery with plastic … yes, real green plastic! Apparently they are Chinese.

Historically the water off some of Estoril’s beaches had high levels of iodine where older people bathed to heal joint pains and bone diseases; the seaweed grew on the rocky sea ledges. Currently there’s an invasion of foreign kelp and the council make huge daily efforts to remove it from the sand.

I am aware I see things that don’t register with others! One of our fellow passengers on Ms Roko in Croatia last year (See PCs 390, 391 & 393) commented:

“Were we on the same boat, did we go on the same tours, did we have meals together? All I do on holiday is relax and enjoy the sun. You seem to do that and observe life going on around you, listen to life going on around you, enough to write three fascinating ‘Tales of Croatia’ PCs.”

For instance, the daytime view across Avenide General Carmona is of another house; no surprises there!

The nighttime view, taken at 0215, is very different; worthy of note?

And if you own a large mansion and only occupy it occasionally …..

you need some guard dogs to roam freely, although these two aren’t very alert!

Maybe I should finish these musings about Estoril with the refrain from ‘Nights in Estoril’ by Christine McVie (Jul 1943 – Nov 2022), of Fleetwood Mac. It featured in their album ‘Time’.  

“I remember the nights in Estoril

A kiss and, oh, the never ending thrill

And I remember the coming storm

Oh, and you my love, how you kept me warm.”

Richard 29th August 2025

Estoril Portugal

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 There is a large contingent of Brazilians here, drawn by the common language.

Note 2 Maybe a nod to our 600-year-old alliance.

Note 3 Statistically 25% of children born from a marriage of first cousins have some defect, mainly mental.

PC 453 Travelling in August

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It’s Sod’s Law (Note 1) that it’s only after you leave for the airport for your flight, the airline texts you to say there’s a delay. Fortunately for us going to Lisbon last week, it was only an hour. My mother-in-law and Toni, returning to Portugal after a retreat in France in July, were told of a nine-hour delay in their TAP flight as they were in the taxi from their Parisian hotel to Orly Airport. Nothing one can do ….. just shrug ….. and resign oneself to a little more time to browse the airside shops ….. have another coffee ….. or debate whether paying for the use of an airport lounge is worth it …. if indeed there is space!

Having checked in, we accept the offer of a printed Boarding Pass, despite having downloaded it earlier; sometimes it’s just easier than searching for it in one’s smartphone – did I add it to my Wallet, takes a screenshot or is it still in my email? I am aware there’s been an international standardisation of the size of a passport, so why isn’t the boarding pass the same size?

A tall chap in Baggage Security asked whether I had any fruit in my backpack; given that his shift had started at 0300, he was remarkably alert! He’d smiled when he’d seen Francisquinha, who always travels with her front paws, ears and head out of my yellow backpack, but needed to delve down into all the stuff you pop in at the last minute. Actually in this case the chemical sensors had noticed the four Conference pears I was taking out to Portugal, to make an Upside-down Pear Cake for the family birthday. Establishing they were genuine, we repacked and went to get something to eat on the plane for lunch.

Regular readers may remember that, in my last visit to the Hope Café, Sami had quoted something from one of Mick Herron’s Slow Horses series: “But Catherine’s journey had been more moving staircase than slippery slope; a slow downwards progression. 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.” At London Gatwick’s South Terminal, there seemed plenty of people on the Up escalator who looked as they weren’t sure where they wanted to be …. and vica versa! And mid-morning in August, it’s constant, this stream of potential airline passengers, going up, coming down, mingling, stopping, gapping, talking, confused and occasionally running in the direction of a departure gate as if they’ve remembered why they were there in the first place.

With more time to kill than usual, we explored some of the shops, wondering whether the prices were better than on the High Street or just hiked for those in urgent need to find something they realised they had forgotten to pack. The salesgirl in Superdry said they sold lots of the latter!

I got another espresso and we found a spare place to sit. On the bench next to us was a young man selling some App over his laptop. It’s hard not to lend half an ear ….. and when he’d finished I asked him about it. It was an app that allowed you to view the layout of a restaurant in 3D, so you could select a table – not too close to the kitchens, or loos, or main entrance perhaps. It cost you 10% of your bill – the restaurant kept 50%, the app developers 50%. Sounded interesting – if you eat out a lot in swanky expensive places!

But in some ways I was more interested in him, just buzzing with energy and life. He, a Spaniard living in Dubai, and his friend had just finished ‘A’ Levels at Wellington College (Note 2); they were flying to Sweden. Good to chat to young people with an obvious zest for life ….. when you know that, sadly, a huge proportion of young adults in the UK are on some form of benefits.

Despite the fact I’ve written over four hundred and fifty postcards, I still occasionally struggle with being grammatically correct, often ignoring a Microsoft prompt if I feel it sounds better! A great believer in grammar reflecting society’s trends! I have got better with spelling but not immune to an incorrect word getting through my editor’s reread ….. and reread! I love the comments my scribbles engender, even if they’re critical of my writing; never too late to learn so, please, keep them coming, even if they’re a little pedantic.

One of the joys of an August holiday is you get more time to read, if that’s your bailiwick; it’s certainly mine. I enjoy the novels of American Michael Connelly, such as his Lincoln Lawyer series or the thrillers featuring detective Harry Bosch. At the weekend I finished his latest, ‘Nightshade’. Being a bit of a pedant (!) I wrote to his website:

“There are some interesting differences in English and American English. For instance, we ‘go for a ride’ whereas you would say we are going for a ‘horseback ride’! And I don’t think we use the term ‘sailboat’, preferring dinghy, yacht and motorboat. As far as yachts are concerned, in ‘Nightshade’ there was reference to a ketch. Not sure whether the main character was deliberately unaware of nautical nomenclature (?) but by definition a ketch is a two-masted yacht, the smaller mast, called a Mizzen, stepped forward of the rudder. The other two-masted yacht is a yawl, where the smaller mast is stepped aft of the rudder, with its boom often overhanging the stern of the yacht. A single masted yacht can be referred to as a sloop. I read that Michael doesn’t read emails …… so do with this information what you want!”

His PA Jane replied saying she would pass on my email to Michael. I obviously hope the great man will reply personally!

Richard 22nd August 2025

Estoril Portugal

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Another term for Murphy’s Law, which states that if something can go wrong, it will.

Note 2 ‘A’ Levels and Alaska are this week’s common words

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.

PC 445 Nowhere Street? Somewhere surely?

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As regular as clockwork, Monday to Friday, Celina and I take the bus from Hove to Churchill Square in Brighton. From there we walk across the square, down Cranbourne Street to West Street, across into Duke Street, right into Middle Street and down to the Yoga in the Lanes studio, behind the synagogue. The green line gives you an idea:

Cranbourne Street is a short street, no more than 70m long; I know as I measured it. Not with a tape measure or by some smart App on my iPhone, but with my calibrated pace! Joining the Royal Artillery involved undertaking the Young Officers’ Course run at the Royal School of Artillery at Larkhill, north of Salisbury, Wiltshire. We learned, inter alia, how to lay out a position for six field guns and measure the distance of each gun from the Command Post. We ‘calibrated’ our normal stride by counting how many steps one took to reach a measured 100m. One’s height matters; the shorter you are, it’s likely to be more than 100!

We are all guilty, I guess, of walking along streets from A to B without really taking in the streetscape so, prompted by seeing someone unique outside the Crowns pub, I thought I could scribble about Cranbourne Street.

At the bottom end, at its junction with West Street (note 1), Deliveroo drivers congregate with their scooters, to chat about their day, share a cigarette or vape, await their next call to deliver a pizza to Mr Smith, some pasta to Mrs Jones or a full meal from The Ivy to Mr & Mr Brown. Most seem to be Brazilian and it amuses Celina to half-hear some of the conversations.

This street is a microcosm of Brighton, its somewhat incongruous mix of retail outlets and the people who visit them, walk down or struggle up the steep slope. The retail mix is incongruous because, amongst the fast-food outlets and two pubs, there’s Timpsons and Scribbler.

Timpson Group is a British and Irish service retailer with 2100 stores, covering dry cleaners (Johnsons), photo printing (Snappy Snaps), watch repairs (The Watch Lab) and shoe repair and key cutting (Timpsons). It was founded in 1865 by William Timpson and is still owned by his descendants. The ethos of their founder lives on today; for instance, a belief in giving people a second chance is reflected in their workforce, 12% of whom have a past criminal conviction.

Scribbler sells stationery and wrapping paper but is best known locally for its vibrant and diverse selection of cards, praised for their humour and uniqueness. Apart from a traditional men’s barbers, a mobile/lap top repair shop and a currency exchange, the remainder of the shops feed the soul. ‘Real California Burritos & Tacos’ is opposite a taste from the Pacific, Island Poké, which sits next to Dak.Zip, a Korean Street Food offering. There’s a strange outlet called ‘Drink What?’ and I have no idea what it offers, but there’s no uncertainty in the Belgian Chips shop, with its large sacks of potatoes in the window!

Ala’s himself shuffles out to the tables of his café, which offers everything from freshly cut sandwiches with various bread options to burgers, fish ‘n’ chips and Nachos.

Sadly, Cranbourne Street is no different from other inner-city streets, with their regular homeless individual, usually a male, sitting on a blanket or box on the pavement, hoping you’ll feel a couple of quid means more to him than you. We have got so used to Daren that we wonder, when he isn’t there, whether he is OK, being looked after; we have no way of knowing. Daren is in his late 50s so doesn’t qualify for the support offered by The Clock Tower Sanctuary, just around the corner and open for 18–25-year-olds; he has a tent ‘somewhere’.

Most of those we see on the streets have complex issues, some of course are heavily influenced by drugs or alcohol, but Daren is always sober, just homeless and suffering from Raynaud’s disease. This disorder affects the small blood vessels in the body’s extremities, which causes tingling, numbness, throbbing and pain. Daren’s feet and hands are often freezing ….  and he has Gall stones. We have passed him twice, every day, for over three years; we have given him gloves and thick socks in the winter; somehow he never manages to have them when he needs them. One of us would pass him some cash, particularly when it was wet, and when we returned almost three hours later he was still there.

Living in the city of Brighton & Hove we have got used to the wonderful inclusivity of our fellow inhabitants and little raises our collective eyebrows anymore. Initially when Celina’s mother would visit, you could tell she was somewhat shocked but now is used to the so many variations. However, the other morning l did a double take, my mind processing what I witnessed! Outside The Crowns pub, with awnings sheltering the outside tables from sun or rain, customers can sit, drink, smoke and watch the pedestrian traffic flowing up and down the street. “What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?” (Note 2)

It was about 1150 and I noticed a chap with greying hair and small, nicely trimmed beard, sallow complexion, with a jean’s material bolero jacket. As he leaned forward to take a sip of his beer, I noticed his very white T shirt and two perfectly formed largeish breasts, their nipples showing through the material. A double take, more like a triple take; I quickly got Celina’s attention, she turned and saw what I saw …… we sort-of shrugged and thought ‘It’s Brighton’ and walked on to catch our bus home. Later I thought of Kenny Everett. (Note 3)

Cranbourne Street – now somewhere!

Richard 27th June 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 West Street runs north-south but was named as it was on the west side of the little town of Brighton, before the town expanded.

Note 2 WH Davies’ poem ‘Leisure’.

Note 3 Kenny Everett (1944 – 1995) was a radio and TV entertainer, known for his zany comedic style. He loved dressing up as a female with large breasts!

PC 441 Osborne and Obesity

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PC 441 Osborne and Obesity

I have been to Osborne House, the summer palace of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert on the Isle of Wight, once, a decade before I moved out of London with Celina and settled in Hove. Strangely here we are surrounded by echoes of its period, the architecture copied by two houses on Albany Villas   

and local streets named Osborne Villas and Medina Villas, the latter named after the river that flows north to the sea at Cowes. On that first visit I had admired the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in one of the state rooms and that idea came to fruition when we moved into our apartment in Amber House. Dean from The House of Shutters was startled to be asked to mirror the inside of six of the eight shutters we had ordered, but agreed they looked wonderful; and still do!

The Yellow Drawing Room at Osborne House

Osborne House (note 1) was built for Queen Victoria and Prince Albert between 1845 and 1851. In the twenty-four years between her accession to the throne in 1937 and the death of Prince Albert in 1861, The British Empire almost quintupled in size. A fascinating book that covers this period is Saul David’s ‘Victoria’s Wars – The Rise of Empire’. The importance of Osborne House to Queen Victoria following Albert’s untimely death is obvious.

On her own death on 22 January 1901 (Note 2) the royal apartments, including Queen Victoria’s bedroom, were turned into a private museum accessible only to the royal family. A wrought iron gate was fixed across the corridor, barring anyone else! On his coronation Edward VII gave the estate to the nation. Queen Elizabeth II never visited, preferring to use Sandringham as her summer retreat, but gave permission in 1954 for the first-floor private apartments in the royal pavilion to be open to the public.

The carved dining room ceiling with a minstrels’ gallery at the end

Always interesting to see inside these magnificent buildings, glimpsing how a very minute section of our nation lived. Most of the rooms are very ornate, the decoration befitting the Ruler of the British Empire. Wearing her Empress of India hat, Victoria created The Durbar Room and corridor, with its paintings from India. Victoria had a great sense of humour and she commissioned a huge painting of bare-breasted women to hang on the wall above Albert’s and her working desks.

Their desks side by side, facing the somewhat raunchy oil painting!

Walking around Osborne, I was wondering what happened to their nine children; Victoria (1840), Albert Edward (1841), Alice (1843), Alfred (1844), Helena (1846), Louise (1848), Arthur (1851), Leopold (1853) and Beatrice (1857).

Albert, Victoria and eight of their children

 I am reminded of my great great grandmother Sarah Fosbery who, having married at 17, gave birth to nine daughters between 1839 and 1861 – and then died aged 39; hardly surprising?

Regular readers will remember that, in the aftermath of food poisoning from a TAP meal on my flight back from Brazil, I rediscovered sweet jelly. In the extensive grounds of Osborne House is Swiss Cottage, a chalet-style house that Albert built, well I don’t imagine he built it himself (!), for his children, somewhere where they could be themselves, away from the suffocating atmosphere of the main house. Each child had their own vegetable patch

Princess Alice’s vegetable plot

and in the cottage, rooms were dedicated to cooking, playing games, sewing etc. I spied one of those lovely copper jelly, or blancmange (?) moulds and asked the volunteer overseeing the visitors whether I could borrow it. Fat chance huh! In Swiss Cottage there was an interactive explanation of what happened to their children; naturally most married into other European royal families.

Albert’s love of horticulture has ensured that the 300 acres of gardens, pastures and woods are well worth exploring, including his walled garden with cold frames and conservatories. From Osborne House, a long tree-lined avenue leads down to a beach on The Solent

and it was here that the queen would swim.

Memories of Osborne are numerous but sadly the abiding one from this visit will be my observations on the health of the other visitors. Granted we visited on a Wednesday, so not a day to go if you were still working, but I was reminded what Sami had said on my last visit to the Hope Café (See PC 438 May 2025), that ‘only 9.3% of older people, defined as ‘surviving to the age of 70 year without the presence of any of 11 major chronic diseases’, could be classed as properly health.’ (Note 3) In the United Kingdom 45% of those of pensionable age have some form of long-term illness, impairment or disability. It’s not something you can shout about, confront, but I despaired at the general apparent lack of health of the public who visited on Wednesday, with their walking sticks, Zimmer frames, hunched postures, spare tyres and ‘bingo wings’. Maybe they will all apply to take Ozempic, ignoring the possibility that with sensible eating and general exercise, none of these things is necessary. I read on Wednesday that KFC has announced plans to create 7000 jobs across the UK and Ireland. Great! More fried chicken will be consumed ….. that’ll increase the bottom line for both KFC and the Nation!

Everyone has a story about their health; for some a genetic condition or accident will have created a disability through no fault of their own. But as I said to someone the other day, everyone is responsible for what they put in their mouth.

Richard 30th May 2025

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 The worst time to visit the house is on a Wednesday morning. If that’s your only day, visit the gardens in the morning and the house in the afternoon.

Note 2 In PCs 44 and 45 (July 2015) I scribbled about our trip to Eagle in Alaska. Great grandfather George was there when Queen Victoria died and remembers the palpable grief.

Note 3 I am not in this 9%, having had a triple heart bypass in 2013!

PC 440 The Isle of Wight

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The visit of Celina’s mother and partner Toni has become an annual occurrence, and we have always tried to organise a few days away during their time in the UK. We have been to my home city of Bath (see PC 337 An American in Bath – June 2023), visited Arundel Castle, the home of the Duke of Norfolk, and spent two nights in Lymington in the New Forrest (see PCs 388 & 389 May 2024). This year, prompted by Toni mentioning his mother had much enjoyed Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, we organised a two-night stay there. Being an island itself, Great Britain has a long coastline stretching some 1800 kms with numerous offshore islands. Apart from the largest groups such as the Inner and Outer Hebrides, the Orkneys and Shetland Isles, the larger ones include Mull (875 sq kms), the Isle of Man in the Irish Sea (572 sq kms), Arran in the Firth of Clyde, and then the Isle of Wight on the south coast. This triangular shaped island covers some 381 sq kms – I read that for comparative purposes it’s about half the size of Singapore ……. if that’s useful? (Better than comparing it with Wales!)

Ferry in yellow, journeys in blue, places in red

On its western tip are the famous Needles, three huge, white chalk rocks marked by a C19th lighthouse.

And nestling into that western coast is Alum Bay, famous for its strata of coloured sands

The western entrance to The Solent narrows by Hurst Castle on the mainland.

Hurst Castle is at the right hand end of the line of pebbles in the distance

Actually, you can see the Isle of Wight when visibility is good from the high ground on the north side of Brighton & Hove, some 55 miles away.

Most of my experiences of the Isle of Wight come from my love of sailing. I have taken part in Mermaid dinghy regattas off Seaview; I have swum in Cowes harbour way past midnight and possible having had too much to drink (!); moored up in Yarmouth harbour numerous times, once having to go over the side of the yacht to unwrap a rope from the propeller; anchored outside as the harbour was full, and had to cope with a dragging anchor in strong winds and spring tides; on returning from the Channel Islands one year, we hit the sand off Ryde, between Cowes and Bembridge, and had to wait for the tide to change; and once, as the tide was favourable, we nosed our way into Newton Creek, a wild nature reserve between Cowes and Yarmouth. For a few years I took part in Cowes Week, the August international yachting regatta that attracts thousands of entrants. In 1969 I took part in a Sail Training Association race from Cowes to Skagen in the northern tip of Denmark, and then on to Malmö in Sweden. I feel at home in this part of the United Kingdom.

The island is served by two ferry companies, Red Funnel from Southampton and Wightlink from Lymington, Portsmouth Harbour and Portsmouth. During my career as an executive coach I worked for Sea Containers, who at the time owned Wightlink and Hoverspeed, the latter running ferries to Calais and Boulogne-Sur-Mer.

I guess the most famous town on the Isle of Wight is Cowes, although its capital is a town called Newport, right in the centre of the island and where the Medina River starts being deep enough to be navigable. Most of the east-west island traffic flows through its congested streets, as north at Cowes the only way to cross the river is on a ‘floating bridge’ which can only take 20 cars on each trip. On the south coast are the Victorian holiday resorts of Ventnor and Shanklin.

The Albion Hotel overlooking Freshwater Bay

You will see from the map that we stayed a couple of nights in the renovated Albion Hotel in Freshwater on the southwest corner. A C18th hostel overlooking Freshwater Bay was destroyed in a big storm in 1824 and the Royal Albion Hotel dates from 1860. The building of Osborne House drew tourists and courtiers alike to the island and the hotel prospered. Today its 40 rooms offer a tranquil setting to unwind after cycling or walking around the island or, as we did, visiting Osborne House. And if you’re lucky, you wake up at just the right time, in this case 26 minutes past midnight, to take a photograph of the full moon over a calm sea.

Nothing is very far on the Isle of Wight and on our second evening we drove north to Yarmouth – yes, the mouth of the river Yar! Our friends from Lymington, whom we had seen last year, came across on the Wightlink ferry for supper at The George Hotel. The tourist and yachting season hadn’t really got underway and it wasn’t at all crowded; in the summer months it becomes very busy and to guarantee a mooring in the harbour you need to be there by 1600, which is too early!   


On the last morning we took a quick trip out to the coast above The Needles; in stunning warm sunshine we looked down at the iconic lighthouse, which I have sailed passed many, many times.

From there we drove east along the south coast before heading north to the ferry terminal at Fishbourne. One’s unlikely to go to the IoW with a car for a day trip, as the ferries are expensive; if you live on the island you get a discount but it does tend to isolate the island community – maybe they like it that way? We caught the 1300 ferry back to Portsmouth and were home in Hove by 1510.


We were lucky with our weather; wall-to-wall sunshine with 20°C and little wind. Next week’s scribbles will cover our visit to Osborne House.

Richard 23rd May 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS Flights to Portugal from Gatwick pass over the IoW. Often the view is amazing


Looking south over the Isle of Wight. Cowes is in the centre of the photograph.

PC 437 Pulled back to the Hope Café

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Mo had sent me a WhatsApp asking if I was back. I am reminded of the difficulties of those who spend a long time in different parts of the world; no one is ever sure where you are, if you’re back. My mother-in-law tries to spend the European winters in Rio de Janeiro, her home city, and vica versa; her friends need to be briefed as to when she’s coming, or indeed when she’s going. I replied I could meet Mo in The Hope Café on Tuesday …. so we catch up over a coffee and a little pastry from Teresa’s Brazilian counter.

“How was Brazil? Read your postcards. (PCs 435 & 436) Sounds as though you had a great time.”

“Actually, very relaxed. Didn’t try to go to hot yoga in Copacabana; just walked along the beach before the sun got too hot, then caught up with friends and family. Two people particularly. Carl von Studnitz, in addition to his surfing and cinematography businesses, runs a charity that provided essential food and clothing to poor families in the municipality of Queimados, to the north of Barra. He lives in the suburb of Jardim Botânico.

A Lily pond within the botanical gardens

The other was Pricilla Goslin, the author of ‘How to be a Carioca’.”

“Sounds like you enjoyed yourself. Wasn’t the main reason of your visit to assist your mother-in-law on her return to Lisbon?”

“Yes. Then she and her partner Toni will come and visit in May. You may recall a couple of PCs I wrote last year after a similar visit. (PCs 388 and 389 Lymington)”

“But you are looking well – always good to have a little tan, makes one look healthy!”

“You should have seen me when I got back – ‘walking death’!”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

                “We had a late afternoon flight out of Rio, with an arrival time in Lisbon of 0500 on Monday 14th.

Looking south over Guanabara Bay with Pão de Açucar at its western entrance

I always love looking out of aeroplane windows, in the hope I’ll see something interesting. Look at the moon rising:

This was taken late on; we’d left Brazil and were heading to the West African coast.”

“Richard, I am in suspense. Why did you feel awful?”

“Chose the little ‘fish & rice’ starter and chicken ‘main’ for the inflight meal and settled down to watch Ridley Scott’s Napoleon. About two hours out of Lisbon was feeling decidedly funny. Managed to get off the plane and make my way to our connecting flight. I could still taste the meal! Slept on the Gatwick bound flight, although had a sick bag ready (they seemed ridiculously small!), got home by midday … had a couple of hours sleep …… got up and made myself vomit …… had a couple of hours sleep … got up and made myself vomit ….. repeated twice more. The Tuesday and Wednesday are a blur. Had a banana on the Wednesday and another on the Thursday. Haven’t had jelly for years but that was another option, that and dry toast ….. and Lucozade! What I hadn’t experienced before was the ache in my abdomen; sometimes it really was quite severe. Still, by Saturday of the Easter weekend was beginning to feel better, sort of 70%! The only good thing was I had no diarrhoea!”

“You know, Richard, everyone has their personal horror stories of food poisoning; dodgy curries, fish very definitely ‘off’, chicken contaminated with salmonella, funny mushrooms (Note 1). And as soon as someone tells you they have/have had food poisoning, they will tell you about their own experiences, in graphic detail, as if your own weren’t enough, but maybe theirs were worse!”

“Haven’t had any chocolate for ten days!! On the subject of food, I am often late to hear new labels and so it is with ‘Food Noise’; apparently it’s the nagging voice of craving which affects almost 60 % of the population, like ‘chocolate’ which I absolutely identify with. ‘Food Noise’ (Note 2) is the title of a new book by the son of the late Michael Mosley, author of The Fast Diet, whose engaging personality encouraged us to watch many of his television programmes about food and our bodies. Jack is following in his footsteps.

We have a friend who’s 7 months into a year-long trial using Ozempic to lose weight, so there’s a personal interest. Jack sounds several notes of warning about its use, the first about the type of weight that users tend to lose. According to its Danish manufacturer, users lost about 17% of their weight over a 70-week period, but 40% of this was lean body mass ie muscle. And that muscle loss is not regained; most put on fat when they come off the drug.”

“Wow! That’s very disturbing. Like you I have a couple of friends who are on it, but by the sound of it no one really knows its long-term effects on our organs. Incidentally had you left before Heathrow shut down on 20th March?”

“No, and fortunately we weren’t flying until the 26th, so we were unaffected.”

“Seems amazing that one failed component at an electricity sub-station near the airport could cause a fire that shut down the sub-station …… and Heathrow ….. completely. I imagine everyone is asking searching questions, about how can Heathrow, the second busiest airport in the world and important national infrastructure, be brought to a complete stop by the failure of one supply outlet. I suspect a great many organisations and companies are dusting off their Contingency Manuals, the ones which have Plan B and Plan C in the event of a failure of Plan A!” 

“Mo. Before I go, do you know when the bookshop is going to open?”

“Yes! By the beginning of June; a little later than Duncan planned. I will help out three days a week ….. and I need to get going too. Always good to chat, See you.”

Richard 2nd May 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Poisonous mushrooms are at the centre of a murder investigation in a court case in Australia.

Note 2 ‘Food Noise: How Weight Loss Medications and Smart Nutrition can silence your cravings’ by Dr Jack Mosley.

PC 436 Where’s the Girl from Ipanema? (Continued)

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On this visit we rented an AirBnB in the Lanai Condominio, around the corner from an apartment owned by Celina’s bother, in Barra da Tijuca. The suburb lies to the west of Ipanema and Barra’s beach, just across the road, is even better than Ipanema’s; the girls probably are the same. 

I’ve written about this long stretch of sand before, collecting thoughts in PC 08 ‘Beach Life in Brazil’, which has a short postscript concerning dental floss. (See PS) On another visit in September 2014, almost eleven years ago, I wrote PC 21, questioning happenings in the world; I think the first two paragraphs are worth repeating:

“We walked along the line of the surf of the crowded beach on a Sunday in September in Barra da Tijuca; the sun was warm on our backs. I looked at the carefree groups of families and friends, at children playing either in the surf or with a football, this is Brazil after all (!), and at other adults, just splashing in the shallows. It was totally divorced from the obscene photograph of a black figure brandishing a knife in front of a kneeling, orange-suited human that had appeared on the front page of my digital Times that morning.

I had looked at the photo of the latest British hostage, a 44-year-old man with a family, with friends, with loved ones. It was so surreal. I knew from the news report that, moments after the photo had been, he would be murdered, in cold blood, in the most barbaric and inhuman way.”

‘Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.’ Then it was ISIS, trying to bring about a C7th Caliphate in the Middle East; today for example it’s the slaughter in Ukraine. A poem by Robert Burns in 1786 included the line – ‘man’s inhumanity to man’; we don’t learn, and some of those who profess to lead don’t care.

I am no ornithologist but am mesmerised by one particular bird that populates the Brazilian coast; it looks almost prehistoric, like a pterodactyl perhaps.

With the aid of Google I learned it’s called a Frigate bird. They are apparently found across all the tropical and subtropical oceans. Characterised by black plumage, deeply forked tails and long hooked bills, there are five extant species. Wonderful!

Currently the temperature of the sea at Barra is fine but, surprisingly as the littoral current moves in a southerly direction from the equator, it can be very cold. Additionally, the underwater profiles of the seabed mean it’s not a particularly safe beach. Undercurrents, fierce draw-backs and constant breaking waves mean those wanting a dip do just that, have a dip. The only swimming going on is by those on surf or bodyboards, making their way beyond the breakers. Every 400m or so is a manned lifeguard station and if someone thinks it’s safe further out, the warning whistles start and they are encouraged to come back to the shore.

It’s always interesting going to other countries and engaging with those people who live there on a permanent basis. The moans I hear today in Rio are an echo of those I hear in Hove; distrust in politicians, the cost of living, the energy/climate crisis, streets unsafe at night and more frequently in some areas during the day, the pervasiveness of social media, the lack of acceptance of opposing views, the lack of common sense etc etc. The locals complain of the traffic, especially at rush hour along the coast road that leads from Barra da Tijuca, past São Conrado and into Lebon and Ipanema. I remind them that in the UK the normal commute is at least 90 minutes.

The southeast corner of the UK is fairly prosperous; relative poverty rarer here that further north. In Brazil poverty is never far from the surface, that and the insidious drugs, their peddling and their use. Surprisingly the city administration clears the streets of those with nowhere to live, ensuring they get shelter and food. (Note 1) The rich here would hope that Rio de Janeiro remains globally famous for its Christ the Redeemer statue, Sugar Loaf Mountain, carnival and its beaches, and maybe for the girl walking along Ipanema beach. But in the last thirty years its favelas have been making the news; some are more famous than others, some more dangerous than others, and the nearest one to Celina’s mother’s house is Rocinha.

Rochinha houses cling to the mountainside in all directions

Times change and its residents have benefitted from the provision of a new tube line and station in 2016, part of the Olympic infrastructure, and lately by a Tourist Office opening within the favela. This is creating more money for the inhabitants, which can only be a good thing.

We had little rain during our visit and what we had was tropical.

Downpour at 0300!

Our AirBnB had air conditioning, essential if you want a good night’s sleep, but the pouring of water onto the external metal box made such an horrendous noise that sleep was impossible. Being a practical sort of chap, I wondered why no one had glued a thick piece of insulation material or rubber matting to its top. Think it would have worked! Of course, electricity failures are common here and then there is no air conditioning! And if you didn’t, read ‘PC 145 Extreme Weather’ from February 2019 about the floods in Rio de Janeiro.

So that girl, that ‘tall and tanned and young and lovely’ woman from the 1960s, is no longer visible. There seemed something innocent about her and I don’t think that’s true of the woman on Ipanema beach today!

Back in Hove, we miss the warmth, we miss the constant noise, we miss the friendly carefree Brazilian people; I don’t miss the mosquitoes!

Richard 25th April 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS For those of you who might like to read more of my Brazilian scribbles, look at: PC 01 Bahia, PCs 3&4 Rio de Janeiro, PC 5 São Paulo & Cananeia, PC 6 Petropolis, PC 8 Brazilian beach life and PS PC 09, PC 10 Paraty, PC 11 Reflections on São Conrado, PCs 17 & 20 The Pantanal, PC 34 Recife, PC 37 A Small Town in Brazil, PC 51 Foz, PC 63 Santa Catarina and PC 91 Japanese São Paulo.

Note 1 Pricilla Goslin, author of ‘How to be a Carioca’, told me that some streets in Seattle, near her Portland, Oregon home, are a permanent ‘tent city. Echoes of San Francisco perhaps?

PC 435 Where’s the Girl from Ipanema?

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In June 2023 I wrote a postcard entitled Serendipity (PC 340), initially prompted by the obituary of Astrud Gilberto, the young woman who serendipitously was asked to sing the English version of ‘Da Garota de Ipanema’ (The Girl from Ipanema). The wonderful opening lines will be familiar to many: “Tall and tanned and young and lovely/the girl from Ipanema goes walking/and when she passes, each one she passes goes, ‘ahhh’.” (Note 1)

Heloisa Pinheiro Born 7th July 1943

In 2025, over 60 years later, is the modern-day equivalent of Heloisa Pinheiro still visible, walking along the promenade of one of Rio de Janeiro’s iconic beaches? I sense the 1960s were a more tranquil, more relaxed era, no more so than along Ipanema’s beach.

Today there’s a constant effort to get fit, be seen, wear the right gear and hundreds of people are in constant motion on Ipanema’s beach; not many seem to have the time to sit and stare at others. We were lucky enough to stay two nights in the Fasano Hotel, situated just before the little promontories of Pedra do Arpoador and Forte de Copacabana that separate Ipanema and Copacabana beaches.

Pedra do Arpoador

From the rooftop swimming pool there’s a good view west down the road ……

and, at the far end, the favela of Vidigal cheek-by-jowl with the Sheraton Grand Rio Hotel & Resort and both overshadowed by the two peaks known as Dois Irmãos. We arrived in the rain on a Sunday afternoon and those two mountains seemed extremely mysterious.

On our second morning rather than walk along the sand as we had the first day, we walked on the promenade the length of both Ipanema and Leblon beaches, about 5kms. Maybe I could identify a modern ‘girl from Ipanema’? No one seems as carefree as Heloisa Pinheiro must have seemed; a little too much filler in the lips, eyelashes so long they could be used as a paintbrush, small or large tattoos in abundance, the smallest bikini bottoms requiring Brazilian waxing, and possibly stopping every few moments to take a Selfie! (Note 2) Towards the end of the pavement, with its characteristic black & white swirling patterns, suddenly someone yells: ‘Celina!’; I turn around and there’s a friend we hadn’t seen since 2019, Alessandra, getting fit on the beach. She doesn’t speak English so I left her to catch up with Celina and walked to the end, reengaging with Celina on the way back. Six years – in the same time, in the same place – a lovely coincidence!

There was a wonderful observation from Letitia, one of the delightful managers in the Fasano Hotel. The hotel was hosting a book launch on our second night. Assouline Publishing, founded in 1994 in New York, has published over 1700 titles on subjects including architecture, art, design, fashion, gastronomy, photography and travel. In amongst these coffee table book titles are, for instance, ‘Napoli Amore’, ‘Bangkok Spirit’ and ‘Paris Paris’. The book for the launch was obviously about Rio de Janeiro (Note 3), by Bruno Astuto. 

Letitia told us the book costs about R$ 1300 per copy (£170) and ‘that is about the same as Brazil’s minimum wage’! Maybe small change for those who can afford to stay at the Fasano and who might say: ‘Cost of living crisis? What crisis?’ but a good example of the gulf between rich and poor.

Since my first visit to Brazil in April 2012, the Brazilian Real has gone from R$3.2 to the pound to R$7.5. This is great for tourists from Europe like me, but not for instance for Celina’s cousin Bel Gasparian, whose recent week in Florence cost her an arm, a leg, and the bag off her back!

On the subject of finance, here in Brazil, forget ‘contactless’, forget cash; everyone is using a system called Pix (Instant Payment Ecosystem). Created and managed by the Banco Central do Brazil, its aim is to reduce cash transactions and offers an alternative to existing payment instructions. It was fully operational in 2020; all you need is to have a Brazilian bank account. Here credit card transaction fees can reach up to 2.2%, whereas Pix charges retailers about 0.2% and is free to individuals. Naturally everyone is using it, the hotels and restaurants, supermarkets and our taxi drivers, even the street artist making a meagre living selling souvenirs or the chap on the beach offering chairs and a sun umbrella to rent. It aims to achieve the transaction in under 10 seconds, although there is an individual payment limit of R$1000 between 2000 and 0600. (Note 4)

I suspect that most decent human beings are sadden by the way in which the new president of the United States goes about dealing with people. The bullying, the threatening manner; “Do as I say or else …. I’ll throw your toys out of my pram.” But we encountered a couple of instances where international hotel guests completely disregarded anyone but themselves, with no ‘Thank you’, no ‘excuse me!’, certainly no ‘please’. I imagine they hadn’t read ‘manners maketh man.’

To be continued …….

Richard 18 April 2025

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 The rhythm of Brazil is of course Samba. Sadly today you’re more likely to hear some repetitive techno stuff.

Note 2 These days filler in one’s buttocks (The Brazilian Lift) is popular globally among some, but I don’t think it’s something the Brazilians want to be associated with.

Note 3 R is pronounced H in Brazilian Portuguese. On one visit there was an advertisement for a rock concert called ‘Rock in Rio’ …. Pronounced ‘Hockinghio’!

Note 4 In England the use of contactless cards is widespread, but the retailer pays a percentage for every transaction. On my way back from hot yoga I often buy a drink from Hanan who runs a 7/11. The bottle cost £1.85; I pay cash. Recently it went up to £2 as he makes a loss if the customer pays by contactless; I pay cash and he charges me £1.85.

PC 433 Odds and Sods

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It’s appropriate to start off this postcard with something about language, as I sit at a table in an AirBnB in Barra da Tijuca, to the west of Rio de Janeiro’s famous beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana. My ability to speak Portuguese, and in particular Brazilian Portuguese, has not got any better over the years since Celina and I got together, despite periodic attempts to get to grips with it. I started with no knowledge and sometimes I sense I have come back to that point!

Consequently, I need to be careful when I write about Celina’s way of pronouncing certain words. The name of the Russian president comes up occasionally, often accompanied by some criticism or other of his cruel actions and disregard for what we in the west consider sacrosanct, like the borders of sovereign states. I commented that I loved the way she says his name, sounds like ‘putain’, a hard nasal sound. Then she explained that ‘putain’ is French for whore/bitch/shit/hooker/tart and I think this is perfect.

These days, if you are bored by your record or CD collection, you can just dial up something like Spotify and ask it to play exactly what you want to listen to. Or you can tune into one of the hundreds of radio stations, via Alexa, and podcasts, to listen to chat or music. Of course the sound of silence can, in itself, be wonderful. Over the years I have become accustomed to have Classic FM on in the background. Often I recognise the work being played, reinforcing my own prejudices about composers; ‘I love Sibelius, not so keen on Bach’ for example. The station’s output seems to cover anything from traditional ‘classical music’ to music used in film or television scores. Snobs in the world of classical music might deride Classic FM for its populist approach to what it broadcasts, but I guess that’s what the programme makers deem their audience want and tune in for. However, as a regular listener, I sometimes detect that every presenter has been encouraged to play one particular piece. A recent example is the title track from the 2004 film ‘Ladies in Lavender’, a 2004 film starring Judi Dench and Maggie Smith. It was composed by Nigel Hess, but I do not want to hear it today, tomorrow and the next! Another piece now played so frequently it’s become hackneyed is ‘Ashokan Farewell’. I grant you it’s lovely but once a month will do!

Writing about snobbery in the world of classical music brings me neatly on to the Scottish painter Jack Vettriano who died at the beginning of March aged 73. His name might not be on the tip of everyone’s tongue, but his painting entitled ‘The Singing Butler’ will, I hope, be instantly recognisable.

He was one of Britain’s most successful painters, earning a reported £500,000 in annual royalties from reproductions of his work on postcards, posters, calendars and jigsaw puzzles. Self-taught, Jack’s breakthrough came in 1993 when he was taken up by London’s Portland Gallery; “There’s a narrative (in his paintings) which invites you to continue the story. They’re a moment caught in time and you continue the story in your head.” Sir Terence Conran was slightly harsher: “I would never suggest Jack is a great artist in the manner of Francis Bacon and I don’t think he would claim to be. But he is an extremely competent artist in the Edward Hopper mould.” Most critics derided his art as ‘kitsch and derivative.’ (Note 1)

I hadn’t intended this part of the postcard to develop into a dissertation on what makes one artist greater than another, for in my mind only you can make these judgements. Personally, I love Edward Hopper’s paintings for their simplicity ….

Edward Hopper’s The Lighthouse

and can’t think of any reason to go to an exhibition of Francis Bacon’s work …..

Bacon – a self portrait

But then I am me and not you, or Terence Conran!

In my postcard about Gen Z (PC 425 Generation Z February 2025), I wrote how good it was to find people who recognised you could have fun without alcohol and that their attitude towards drinking and drinking to excess was refreshing. One of our major supermarket chains, Sainsbury’s, is now offering a non-alcoholic beer with one of its lunch ‘meal deals’. For some reason best known to themselves Debretts, the national guide to etiquette, were provoked to comment. Liz Wyse, one of their editors, wrote: “I don’t think it really appropriate. I know it’s alcohol free but people drinking alcohol-free generally would rather drink a normal beer.” (My italics) Now that is a statement based on a sample of, er, one? Herself?

Diane Cherryman from Melton Mowbray was so moved to write to The Times. “Sir, (Note 2) Debrett’s should set aside its prejudices and read the small print on labels before condemning a lunchtime drink of alcohol-free beer.” And went on to say it’s a far healthier choice than fizzy drinks.

And finally, something to cogitate on. I took out a life insurance policy with Standard Life a day before my 21st birthday; seemed a grown-up and sensible thing to do. It would pay out some £2314 if I accidentally died; for comparative purposes I was being paid circa £1750 per year (Note 3) and the annual premium was £24. As the years rolled by, I recognise that these £2 per month Direct Debits were not a lot, and it would help my beneficiaries a little. The annual statement arrived last month – I could cash in my Life Insurance and have £1714 in my sticky little hand today and not leave it for others. I have paid Standard Life £1392 over the years – so a gain of £322! My brother did a simple ‘£24 at 3% compound interest over 57 years’ calculation and found it amounted to almost £4000. If I had known then what I know now ……..

Richard 4th April 2025

Rio de Janeiro

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Note 1 Make sense of this: “His art is frightening …. his work shows the extent to which even art has been compromised by the argument that the market is the most powerful thing.” Duncan MacMillan

Note 2 I wonder whether this salutation has had its day. Today it could easily be Editor which could apply to someone of any gender.

Note 3 Rule of thumb suggests 150% of salary. Wishful thinking!