mokie | Reading

We were at the Meeting House yesterday and the kids took themselves off to Cuckmere Haven- which is the best vantage point for viewing the White Cliffs- not, please note, the White Cliffs of Dover- which are 50 to 60 miles east of here- but the range known as the Seven Sisters. They had passable weather for it.

Cuckmere Haven isn't exactly isolated , but you can't drive to it. The nearest car pasrks are a mile away- and you have to walk- or possibly paddle-board- the winding course of the Cuckmere river to get to the beach and the coastguard cottages.

Coastguard cottages? Of yeah, back in the day, this is one of the secluded spots where smugglers unloaded their French contraband- "Brandy for the parson, Baccy for the clerk...etc etc..." As the chalk erodes so the cottages come closer and closer to sliding into the sea. We'll miss them when they're gone because they serve as the perfect foreground objects for the picture that everyone takes.....

Here's my version, snapped on a glorious September Day in 2021.....

Cuckmere_Haven,_Sept_2021_08-1.jpeg

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I'm not seeing much in the way of Halloween decor in Eastbourne this year. We passed a house that had filled its front garden with junk and it stood out because it had no competition.

I asked Mike if was the same in Greenwich and he said, Well, no, his street had a lot of skeletons and such. They're going home tomorrow morning because he has some inflatable gravestones on order and he needs time to blow them up and get them installed before the evening's candy fest.

We don't give out sweets. We give out plastic doodads. I sort of enjoy the mad rush.

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Family coming to visit and I need to put on my paterfamilias face. It's not the best fit.

Right now I'm in my dressing room- or tiring house to be Shakespearian about it- waiting for my cue. Things will become easier once I'm on stage.

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Current Mood: busy

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Current Mood: busy

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Last time I rode a bike was in Belgium quite a few years ago. Long straight roads, no hills and a culture that doffs its cap to the cyclist at every turn.

As a young man I rode a bike round Cambridge and the surrounding countryside. Again, that's fenland- so nice and flat. I have memories of carrying on with the cycling in my first curacy, in Wythenshawe- which isn't flat at all. I have memories of tearing up the hill for Holy Communion on a Sunday, arriving with minutes to spare- and getting the stink eye from the vicar, my boss, who thought I was a horrible scruff. He once threatened to send me home if I showed up again with my shoes unbrushed. "When I was a curate," he said, severely, "We thought it important to have neat hair and shiny shoes- for the honour of the priesthood and in order to impress the laity." What I wish I'd said in reply is, "And what did Jesus wear on his feet then?"

That was a bit of a digression.

As a teenager I did a fair bit of cycling. I had a bike at my boarding school. If you went out for a cycle ride it was considered an adequate alternative to playing team sports- and I hated team sports. The road from Lancing up to Bramber and Steyning is pretty steep. Travelling the same road in the car I have compassion on my younger self.

Looking back, I wonder why, since they'd been foolish enough to give me my liberty, I didn't just keep on cycling until night fell.....

I was never a daring cyclist. I never went down a hill without toying with the brakes.

I was riding a bike in a dream last night. It was dusk. I switched on the headlamp and instead of showing up the road ahead it blinded me.....

A book that falls from the sky. I know this feels a lot like that.

Not long ago, I mentioned I was working on a big writing project. I can finally say what it is. Out now from Absinthe Books is my latest novella, The Society of Vegetarian Cannibals. Mm-hmm. Like the people who eat people. Or as it says on the back cover:

"Welcome to the Downlands, the last safe haven in a dying world. Even as the outside world remains poisoned and the population stagnates, purity runs deep here. Every person is born whole and complete. Every bite of food, manufactured from its base chemicals, is a perfect recreation of flavours from better times. And every one who dies becomes the perfect meat, raised on the perfect diet. At the funeral, the deceased's companions feast on this perfectly raised meal, absorbing the dead's memories and thus preserving their existence in historical record.

When Fritzel accidentally discovers his beloved cousin Bern is dead, and worse, has been refused a funeral, everything he thought he knew is shattered. No one in his family will tell him how Bern died or even what happened to the body. Desperate to salvage his cousin's memory, Fritzel begins a journey to discover how they lived. As he does so, he finds others who knew and loved Bern. Together, they find a way to save the memories they hold dear and savour the taste of a life that was worth living."

It's a hardcover! Super fancy. There are also 100 signed limited editions available. This is like, the fanciest treatment my writing has ever gotten in my life. Any more than this and I might start glowing in the dark.

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Something I try to avoid is going off on old geezer rants about how much better things were when I was a lad, but the temptation is there....

Childcare for instance. Now when I was a child etc, etc.....

No, I may sometimes succumb in conversation, but when I'm writing a post I have time to take thought and shut myself down.

Back in the day thre was a one-man show called Brief Lives in which Roy Dotrice, then quite young, slapped on the old man makeup to play the antiquarian John Aubrey and give us anedotes about famous people from Aubrey's book of the same name. The piece was set in the reign of Charles II and Aubrey had a memory that went way, way back. As the curtain fell, Aubrey, surrounded by his manuscripts, fell asleep in his chair- or possibly drew his final breaths- muttering, "It was not so in good Queen Bess's time...."

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I was psyching myself up to get out of bed when Ailz returned from the bathroom and said, "Do you know what happened last night?"

"Oh my god," I thought, "Something world-historical has gone down. Please let it be good news...."

And she said, "The clocks went back...."

I had no idea.

This is the first time in my life that I've been caught unawares by this twice-yearly phenomenon. Usually I'll have gone round the evening before re-setting the clocks in advance.

It was rather nice. I got to doze an extra hour and indulge in those fantasies and speculations that are almost dreams but not quite.......

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Good morning, afternoon, and evening!

We're doing some database and other light server maintenance this weekend (upgrading the version of MySQL we use in particular, but also probably doing some CDN work.)

I expect all of this to be pretty invisible except for some small "couple of minute" blips as we switch between machines, but there's a chance you will notice something untoward. I'll keep an eye on comments as per usual.

Ta for now!

This morning I spotted the first instance of the T**** Ballroom being referred to as The Epstein Wing. I trust there will be many more.

It is being suggested (but perhaps it's fake news) that the construction of the Epstein Wing is actually cover for the making of a new and improved nuclear bunker. I pass this on for what it's worth.

I have always thought that in the event of nuclear war, the last people to be allowed into the bunkers should be the people primarily responsible for bringing it about- which is to say the government, the diplomats, the generals etc. In societies with a code of honour it was expected that a failed leader would fall on his sword.

On a related topic (another titbit from the airwaves) it is being said Andrew Windsor is being offered a Palace in Abu Dhabi. Why anyone would not only want him as a neighbour but also offer to maintain him in the manner to which he's accustomed is beyond me, but there it is.

Who runs Abu Dhabi anyway?

Easy. His name is Mohamed bin Zayed al Nahyan. He's also President of the UAE. Ah, and here's a clue. He's a close "friend" and ally of the current US President. Might he be thinking it would be a friendly gesture to keep Andrew Windsor squirreled away in a beachside palace where journalists (who are discouraged in the UAE) will be unable to get at him? This is highly speculative, of course.

No, no no, this is not the T**** Ballroom aka The Epstein Wing but the Sheik Zayed mosque in Abu Dhabi.

Ain't it grand!

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mokie

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Cuckmere Haven

My Holiday Academia 2025

Inflatable Gravestones

Holidays!!! on Ice 2025

Tiring House

Creative Jam

November Bingo Fest

Holiday Haikyuu!! 2025

Biking

The Society of Vegetarian Cannibals, out now!

Les Mis Holiday Exchange 2025

SPOOK ME MASTER LIST 2025!!!

It Was Not So....

Another Toku Holiday Special 2025

British Comedian RPF Exchange - Semiflash 2025

An Extra Hour

I'm offering my next bad event: Bingo!!!

Ace Attorney Holiday Exchange

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January 2025

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