My personal EU vote story

I personally voted to remain in Europe, because, to my (I admit limited) knowledge I thought it would be best for everyone, for all of the UK citizens and for the citizens of all the other EU countries as well. I naively assumed that the majority of others in this country would feel the same. What I hadn't realized until only last Monday was the personal impact that a leave vote would have on me and my family.
My lovely daughter-in-law is Japanese, she and my son have been together for 10 years, married for 7 and they have two gorgeous daughters. My daughter-in-law is the main breadwinner as her job with a Japanese Investment bank provides a deal more income than my tree-surgeon son could hope to earn.
The work that she does is quite complicated, but I hope she won't mind me telling you that basically she sells European shares to Japanese investors. In order to do this, the company that she works for (and incidentally any other UK or international company that does the same thing) needs to be situated inside the EU, which means that at some not too distant point in the future the company and all its employees will need to be relocated to an EU country. If I remember rightly, the options available to them are Dublin, Paris or Frankfurt. So, instead of them being an hour's drive away, they will be heaven knows how far away. And, worst of all, my daughter-in-law, being a foreign national, had no say in the process, despite having lived in this country for many years, being married to an English man, having two half-English children, and having a mortgage on a house in England.
To say that I am sad is an understatement, but I guess that now I'll at least have the opportunity to travel to wherever they end up, as long as my pension holds out!
This is not a complaint or a whinge, just an individual viewpoint of how suddenly several lives can be impacted so severely. These two brothers, who have always been close, will now be separated, as will the four cousins who all get on so well together.

How about . . .

. . . taking a walk with us along a section of the Kennet and Avon Canal. We'll start at Bradford-on-Avon and walk as far as the aqueduct at Avoncliff, at which point we'll rest a while with an ice cream, and then walk back again. Enjoy.

Five in five on five

On the 5th day of each month Sandie at itchifingers invites us to join in with her, here is my post for September.

Last week GM and I enjoyed a day at the races. Salisbury has quite a small course, it doesn't host any major races, most of the meets are for novice horses and young jockies - I think this young man will go far.

We were only in the cheap enclosure but still had very good views of the horses as they made their way down to the start.

This course, as with most others, is as flat as it can be given the geography of the area, however there is still a gradual climb to the finishing line.

Here you can see the winner and the second placed horses approaching the finishing line, but not the one I chose to back, she finished second-to-last!

Still, at least that means I can have a consolation ice-cream.

To join in, and/or view other posts, please see here

Who do you think you are?

This is not a political post, I prefer to keep my politics and religion (lack thereof) to myself, but, just out of interest, I am wondering how many of us are able to trace our family roots back to immigrants or political refugees.

My grandmother's maiden name was Le May, french in origin, and my sister has been able to trace the Le May family back to when they came to the UK as Huguenots to escape persecution from the French authorities. They were silk weavers, and lived, sometimes 10 or more family members in one room, in the East End of London for many generations.

GM knows that one of his father's predecessors made their way from Ireland to Liverpool, probably to escape the great Irish potato famine.

These are known connections, there may be, and probably are, others.

So we are both descendents of immigrants and grateful to this country for accepting them.

New beginnings

Hello, and welcome to September. Ever since my oldest son, who is now approaching 45 years old, started school, September has been the start of the year for me, and this year is no different.

2015 has, thus far, been one of the most difficult years I've had to face for a very long time. Several things, outside of my control but inside my sphere of activity, have happened which I don't wish to go into, but which have caused me a deal of pain and anguish and soul-searching. I have, since the middle of July, withdrawn myself from social activity of any sort and spent a lot of time asking "why?". Since the beginning of August I've also been in some physical discomfort due to what I was told by the surgery nurse was a pulled muscle. However, yesterday, while in a great deal of agony, I saw a doctor, who diagnosed arthritis in my hip, and initially prescribed painkillers and physio-therapy. Early this morning, two hours before it was time to get up, I took my first dose of the strong painkillers, and by the time I got out of bed I found that, although I could still feel a slight niggle, I was pain free, both physically, and more importantly, mentally. A lot of fog and uncertainty has cleared, and now I feel ready to move back into the outside world and re-engage.

So, to all of my friends, both real and virtual, who have been quietly supportive of me during my reclusion, I would like to say a big thank you, and to reassure you that over the next few weeks I'll be re-establishing contact. I don't intend to spend the rest of my life on painkillers, so I'll be making some significant lifestyle changes in order to ameleorate the effects of the arthritis, the main two being exercises to increase suppleness and dietary strictness with regards to my sugar intake (reduce) and omega 3 intake (increase). For the first few months of the year I had successfully shed 8 kilos of excess baggage, and if I am able to release another 5 kilos I'll be inside my target healthy weight range.

There is really nothing I can do to change the family circumstances which caused the initial and secondary hurts, except to accept things as they now are, continue to love and support all those family members who need it, and rebuild my own life accordingly.

Happy New Beginnings.

How to spend a wet Sunday

I'm not keen on housework. But, sometimes it has to be done. Yesterday was wet on and off for most of the day, so I decided it was time to do some cleaning. And where shall I start? The conservatory of course. My conservatory is my potting shed, greenhouse and also a place to sit and view the garden, but it had become a bit of an untidy mess.

At the end of the day it was a bit better and I have space to work.

Today it's still wet, so I have no excuse not to do some more cleaning elsewhere in the house. Not true, I do have an excuse, I'm off to meet Jean for coffee and a natter.

Derby Day, and a hint from the universe.

Background history

When GM was a much younger man, footloose and fancy-free, he used to follow and gamble on horse-racing, only flat though, he wasn't a fan of hurdles. Being, as he is, very careful with money, I doubt he took many big risks, but working on finding out about the lineage of the horse, the success of the trainer and various other factors, he often made a small supplement to his income.

When we met we were both living in West Ewell, the less well-healed part of the borough of Epsom and Ewell, and were very aware of the carnival atmosphere in the area during Derby week (as it was then). Only once in the 22 years I was there did we actually visit the race meeting, but we always both picked a horse to back - this was the only gambling we allowed ourselves during that period, and since we moved away we have continued the tradition of picking the horse we thought would be the Derby winner, with varying success rates, and let's just say that we are both out of pocket over the years but not by a huge sum (I'm talking about 10s of pounds rather than anything more).

Stepping back further in time to the 70s when I lived in Essex, I had a friend by the name of Janice, I don't remember exactly when we met, she was at that time one of the crowd we bumped into in the pub and as the years passed we became fairly close friends. Soon after I moved away, she married and her surname became Hobbs.

Fast-forward again to yesterday, Derby Day.

I woke with that horrible feeling of an imminent bout of cystitis, but fortunately my surgery have given me some quite strong tablets to take to nip it in the bud so after breakfast I took one. The only slight side effect to them is feeling a bit "fuggy".

GM gave me the part of the newspaper with the list of Derby runners and riders to choose my horse. GM still uses his old tried and trusted method of picking a horse, my method is slightly less scientific, I just glance through the list and pick a name I like. Yesterday, I chose three names on the list (alphabetically) Hans Holbein, because I have recently started painting (a bit of a tenuous connection, I'll grant), Jack Hobbs, because of the similarity of the name to my long-term friend Janice, and Rogue Runner (because GM's name appears if you subtract the letters u u n n e and r). In an attempt to cut the list down to one horse I looked at the betting figures and discovered that Rogue Runner was a 100/1 outsider so was immediately chopped of the list, and that Jack Hobbs was second favourite with quite short odds, so I plumped for Hans Holbein. Very unusually it transpired that using his method of selection, GM had picked the same horse, so I felt my choice was vindicated and he dutifully went online and backed the horse for both of us.

Mid morning, and imagine my surprise when my phone started ringing and displayed Janice's name. I answered the phone only to hear vague noises in the background, so after saying hello several times I hung up. Half a minute later the phone rang again, so I answered it again, and the same thing happened. After the third time of ringing I texted Janice to find out what was going on, apparently she was out gardening with her phone in her pocket and the phone was ringing me of its own accord.

I thought no more about it and carried on with my day, feeling a bit fuggy, but managing to complete a few tasks. Come 3.45 in the afternoon I was ready for a shower, and, as quite often happens, once I was under the shower I began to feel pretty relaxed. Then it hit me - the universe had been trying to tell me something, Jack Hobbs was going to win the Derby, I felt sure of it. But then reason took over, I had placed a bet on Hans Holbein, the same horse that GM had chosen, and by the time I could get dried and dressed it would be too late to do anything about it anyway. So I did nothing.

4.30, the race started, and Hans Holbein took the lead very early on and held on to it right until Tattenham Corner (famous for the Emily Davison suicide), both GM and I were guardedly excited, of course, but knew full well that the likelihood of holding on to the lead was slim. And we were right, once on the homeward straight other, stronger horses took over and by the finishing line the leader was the favourite Golden Horn, but Jack Hobbs was second, and the tiring Hans Holbein? Well let's just say that he finished ahead of Rogue Runner.

So, the moral of this story is two-fold. Firstly, I realize now that had I not been feeling fuggy I might have made the connection earlier while there was still time to change my bet, and had I done that I would not have lost the initial stake money, but would instead have broken even as Jack Hobbs started at 4/1 and my bet was an each way bet. Secondly, gambling is a mug's game and should only be undertaken for a bit of fun, using only money that you can afford to lose.