And now for something completely different (with apologies to Monty)


I’ve banged on about our move and the house long enough. Time to change tack methinks.

Lots going on in the world to comment on this week, anti-semitism, Hillsborough, police commissioner elections, the EU, referendum, Cameron’s performance, Corbyn’s inaction, and finally and this is my point today:

Po-faced holier than thou attitude of broadcasters, especially quelle surprise the good old, sorry not so good BBC. What gives the right to allow these stuck up, superior sounding wankers the right to pontificate about the main subject this week: the 96 fans who died at a football match. As usual it’s always easy to be wise after the act, and here I’m not going to comment on the inquest or its result, but some of those broadcasters’ sound as if they were there they would have done this and so and so should have that; they weren’t and they didn’t, it was 27 years ago, you can’t change history only, as Churchill said, learn from it. The blatant attitude of some if these so-called ‘journalists’ is beyond believe to sound above and beyond us mere mortals who of course make mistakes, but they don’t. Reporters and journalists should remember that they are only reporting events, not trying to sound as if they know the best solution to everything. The ones that really get my goat are those who shove a microphone into the face of someone who has just faced a tragedy or similar; they ask ‘how do you feel’? As if they’ve got an immediate answer to explain their feelings. Sorry, but if I was asked that question in those circumstances I’d probably punch their lights out. Its not just me saying this. A well known Mail on Sunday journalist says today of a group of newsmen following Ken Livingstone:

‘He stepped into an over-excited knot of political reporters. They looked like what they are; simultaneously a pack of snapping wolves, buzzing with self-righteousness, and a flock of bleating conformist sheep, all thinking and saying exactly the same thing.’

Thanks to Peter Hitchens for largely agreeing with me. Now, some may say he’s not exactly everyone’s favourite, but I totally agree with him on this occasion. But they’ll never change and couldn’t care less about finding out the truth, just what they think their readers/viewers would be titillated by. Get a real job.

Rant over.

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The first three weeks


So, it’s week three in the new house and the love affair carries on. We love the house, love the quiet, love the area and love being here – totally.

Spring is in the air and it shows in what’s happening in our new garden, leaves are sprouting, birds are nest building and all around new life is forming. The unpacking is gong well, only a few left, but we’re running out of space, and the loft is becoming a secondary wardrobe and ‘junk cupboard’. Don’t mention the garage which although huge (17′ x 17′), is scattered with stuff that needs sorting, but at least it’s not immediately needed. But that’s the effect of ‘downsizing’; although in our case we’ve downsized from a four bedroom house to a smaller four bedroom house, and we left wardrobes and built in cupboards behind, in which all sorts of stuff can be stuffed. It’s also meant we have down-junked more since we moved. I thought we got rid of a shed load of stuff prior to the move, but now realise that some of the stuff we bought with us, needn’t have been. Still, it’s easy to dump stuff we either don’t need or don’t use any more; getting it back could be problematic. We’re also getting rid of furniture that just doesn’t fit in, but my view is we’ve had our use out of it for many years so it doesn’t owe us anything, and it is only IKEA, now pronounced ekea rather than i kea I noticed on the TV adverts. But to find room for everything; that is the challenge.

We’ve had loads of visitors to have a nose around. Our former neighbours, close friends and family have all come here to have a look and be impressed. We’ve taken them over to the local pub, a minutes walk away and enjoyed superb food and my favourite tipple, Hogs Back Tea. We really have struck lucky, the area is fantastic, it’s countrified, quiet and peaceful. What more could one ask for?

View from round the corner:

image

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We’re in!


That’s it. Moving in day has happened and we’re spending our first night in the new house.

Its a bit weird like being in a holiday home or breaking into someone else’s house and thinking they might storm in and ask just what we think we’re doing here. But no, it’s ours and we’re in it and that’s that, there’s no going back. But it’s still weird.

After a few days the feeling of being on holiday is diminishing, and getting rid of the removal boxes adds to the feeling. We’ve tried a couple of local trips, one to the local pub for dinner, which was fantastic. Then we went for a walk on Sunday to explore the local farm shop, which again was a lovely place. On the way back however I spotted a public pathway and suggested following it to see if it lead back to the back of our estate. It didn’t! We went round in a big circle and ended up, eventually, coming out near the pub, which was then only a short walk. The trouble is we paid for my bravado, by being stiff as boards the next morning through too much walking. Still if we keep it up it’ll have a double benefit; get fit and lose weight. Yeah right, some hope. Lots of admin to do this week, doctors, dentists etc all the things we’ve taken for granted over the last few decades. As I said before it’s amazing how many people have your address and need to be informed of the change. I invested in the Royal Mail redirection service and so far it’s worked well, with several letters being diverted directly. Apparently they let correspondents know that new address as well. It may sound expensive at nearly £40 for six months, but well worth it I feel.

More progress reports to come.

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OK it’s getting scary now….


6 days to go as I write.

Trouble is I’ve picked up a bug of some sort and it has pole axed me, spent the day in bed feeling rubbish. My wife also had the same thing; luckily before me, so it’s slowed things down a bit. I think  we’ve packed pretty well, but there still seems to be awful lot of stuff to square away, although the removal men will do the lion’s share. It’ll all come out in the wash, let’s face it anything in the house (and outside) has got to be moved, so we’ll see what happens next week. One of the things I didn’t realise is the removal companies don’t accept tins of paint, oils, greases, turps; well you get the picture. So I’ll have to take that over to the new house in the trailer and the trusty Bongo. I’ve also got a shed full of wood, I can’t stand throwing any out, although I have got rid of some cheap pine. I’m also taking my guitars (5) and my keyboards/amplifiers over in the Bongo, good job it’s got the capacity, fantastic vehicle. The actual removal process will take three days, from packing to delivery on the third day, so there’s a lot of stuff o shift.

To be honest it still doesn’t feel real that we are actually leaving Tongham after 33 years 10 months. It just feels like we’ve de-cluttered  and packed a lot of stuff that hasn’t seen the light of day for many years, but I guess we’ll need it all at the other end. We’ve also got Easter and the clocks going forward on Sunday so time will be compressed, at least we’ll have more light evenings. I’ve ordered my BT package for the new house and that’s being delivered next week. There’s a whole lot of wiring and connecting to do at the other end, which I’m not looking forward to, until it all works: Sky, broadband, phone, normal TV it’s quite daunting but I’m sure I’ll cope. Then there’s the neighbours. We’ve been lucky and had fantastic neighbours for the last 30 odd years and we’ll have to start all over again. That’s not say we’ll keep in touch with our former neighbours, we’ve got to come back to the old area for various things.

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Another attrocity


The suicide attack of Brussels is absolutley horrific and has caused much carnage and death. That they were able to kill and maim people outside the main security area is bad enough, but the big question is: why?

No, I don’t mean why whoever did this chose Brussels or where ever, Paris, Madrid etc; I mean what do they want? Do they want to change the world? Do they want us all to wear beards, turbans and long black or white robes? Do they want to turn the world Muslim or for us all to be under Sharia law? Do they want us to support the ISIS? The perpetrators of these atrocities never to seem to state what their objectives are, much less claim responsibility. To just blow people up, create bedlam, cause distress and horror doesn’t mean governments are just going to go belly up and let ‘them’ whoever they are, take over that country. At least previous terror campaigns, Northern Ireland, Iraq, Hitler etc had an objective, this latest series of horrors doesn’t seem to have a requirement. No-one comes forward and says ‘this is what we want’. To just blow up areas, cause panic and distress doesn’t in and of itself cause governments to fall or capitulation of countries.

So what do they want?

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The final stretch!


So contracts are exchanged, completion date (and move out/in date) is 30th March, 10 days to go. Getting scary!

The cathartic effect of decluttering and dumping goes on. We’ve opted for the ‘full pack’ from the removers, which I suppose in theory could mean you leave everything as it is, and they do it all. However we are packing a lot ourselves, which makes sense since we can get rid of rubbish at the same time. Then there are all the things to come off the walls, those that have been rawl-plugged in anyway. Luckily it’s not like married quarters where you have to make good any holes in walls. Clean and tidy is good enough. It actually doesn’t feel real yet, I doubt it will until the removal men arrive and start loading.

Along with the physical stuff to move there’s also the ethereal stuff: like electy, gas, phone, broadband (essential these days), water, rates and so on. And it’s the address changing! Everything from store loyalty cards to the cars V5s (registration document), TV licencing, banks, pensions the list is endless. Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything. The service you get from the various services varies a great deal as well. Most web sites want to sell you stuff, including all the main players; BT, npower, Virgin (don’t get me talking about them), South East Water, again the list is endless. Of course I may have forgotten some of the correspondents I need to change, so I’ve gone for the Royal Mail redirection service. It cost £40 for six months but it diverts all mail to your new address and let’s people know your new address. I’ve had experience of this because no 2 daughter diverted her mail and it seemed to work well. We’re in the last week or so now and it’s getting difficult to decide what to pack and what to leave for the removal men. On which subject I’ve had a bit of discussion about the removal process. One person I spoke to did all themselves with adult boys help and saved a packet, another thought the cost was excessive (he is a bit tight!), and many other people said whatever you do don’t try to do it yourself. A relation moved 80 miles away, hired a Luton van, and it took him an 16 hour day and six return journey between the two houses, which also didn’t do him any good to his joints and general health. Personally I’m going for a local firm with a full pack. It’s going to cost but I don’t care, I value my health above all else. In any case we can easily pay for it out of the proceeds.

The last week is going to be fraught, but I want to it to go quickly so we can into the new house and get going. There’s lots to do; the garden needs a major makeover but luckily the house is in pretty good nick. Then of course there’s the ‘where the f*** do we put everything?’ syndrome. We may be downsizing from a 4 bed to a four bed, but we are losing a room which although not used much did provide extra space to put stuff. I’m sure it’ll work out. More updates later.

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Moving on part 3


Well, things are really getting up – not!

We’re currently awaiting exchange of contracts, a legal term and for for those who don’t know, it’s the point at which you’re totally committed to the sale/purchase and must go ahead or it could be costly. The last stage is ‘completion’ which is when all the monies change hands, and an odd thing happens, a deposit is paid. It’s not an actual deposit, it’s paid at the same time as the whole purchase price, so I don’t get that. Be that as it may, completion is when keys are exchanged, houses are emptied and taken to the new one.

It’s a sort of in-between time, you know you’re committed, you’ve started to pack up and declutter and are waiting for the legal matters to sort themselves out. It’s also quite tense, since any one of the, in our case, five families in the chain could suddenly and unexplainably pull out by not signing the contract. The people buying our house are trying to save an extra 3.3% Stamp Duty so unless they get cold feet, they won’t want the sale to fail.

It’s at this stage that you realise that yes it’s going ahead, your leaving your lovely home after all these years and it’s going to be a wrench. Well, sort of. Yes it’s going to be an emotional end to half a life spent in the same house, but strangely I’m now at the stage where I just want to it to be over, and we’re in the new place. New house, new challenges, new neighbours, new area to investigate. The biggest wrench will be leaving our lovely neighbours, who we have lived next door but one and next door but two now for over 30 years. We meet once a month for a ‘Toby’ at a nearby hostelry where we catch up and have a lovely lunch (special offer £5.99 for a full roast). That’s not going to stop of course; we’re only 12 miles away. We’ve shared their lives, their families lives and been to each other’s houses on many occasions for a ‘drink or two’. In the future we’ll have to drive home instead of staggering a few yards, but hey ho, I drink less these days anyway. There aren’t many other people locally who I’ll miss or will probably even notice we’ve gone. Our daughter who lives a mile away is looking to move nearer to our new place, so that will be nice. Life moves on as they say, and now I’ve passed the milestone OAP age, I’m definitely into the quarter of it. That’s not to say I’m slowing down; far from it. There’s a lot to do at the new place, and there’s exciting and new challenges to be passed, so as far I’m concerned it’s onwards and upwards!

Watch this space for the next exciting installment!

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The Move 2 (just when you thought it was safe….)


After a very quiet period and with time marching on, we were wondering how things were going.

Our New Place (hopefully!)

There may have been a lot of hornet’s being disturbed, because we went from ‘there’s no way’, to ‘maybe’ to ‘doable’ to let’s get this thing done. But nothing much has happened for a few weeks since our buyer asked for a structural report. Several things came out of this which, in the buyers eyes, required ‘specialist’ second looks and reports as to the condition of them: gas, electrics, flat roofs. There was no need because any major issues wouldn’t necessarily be a blocker on the sale, and things that weren’t up to date could easily be fixed after the move.

We’re now sorting and decluttering. What an exercise! The junk that was lying around the house, garage and loft had been there in some cases for over 25 years, so we had to ruthless. A lot of stuff and I   mean a lot went to charity shops; clothes and ornaments and the like to the local hospice charity shop, and electrical items to the BHF (British Heart Foundation) shop locally who sell such stuff in their furniture shop. The rest and no score stuff went straight down to the council tip. My van has never been used so much to move junk around. In the course of finding boxes of paper, school books, photographs and ephemera, looking at it takes time, not only to decide if it IS junk but also to reminisce and bring back memories of a past life, or in some cases ancestors lives. This exponentially increases the time taken to do the sorting, but it’s no bad thing. What you’ve got to be sure of is that what you are chucking is no longer needed, once it’s gone, it’s gone.

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The Move


First to go.

The Move

So, we decided it was about time to move house.

After nearly 34 years of family life, happy times, sad times and other times it is time to move on. That and the size of our house is now, and had been for some time, beyond that needed for our lifestyle. This thinking has been going on for some years now; family life gets in the way sometimes, but last summer we bit the proverbial bullet and got serious.

It’s a strange feeling, putting your house in the hands of an estate agent and a stranger. He measures, takes pictures, and puts it out for the public to see what your house looks like. Of course in past times, it went into the local paper or estate agent flyers. Nowadays, it can be worldwide thanks to the internet, so things can move at a far quicker pace. We initially decided not to go ‘public’ because our agent had a couple of people who had expressed interest in finding a house with a granny annex, which ours has. They didn’t go any further, so we went public at the beginning of January; the For Sale board went up on the Tuesday, we had a viewing on Wednesday, and an acceptable offer on Thursday. On the same day the owners of the house we were interested in accepted our negotiated offer. Result! It was all moving quickly, head spinningly. As everyone says to us: its all go, go, go and then it stops. Solicitors are engaged, draft contracts are raised; you decide what is staying, what is going, what is being chucked. Then the slow process of sorting the house out. After 34 years there is much junk lying around the house, in the attic, in the garage. Some of it has been there for 20 years, unloved, untouched. But one has to be ruthless, or you end up taking stuff with you and then storing it again for another 20 years.

Some surprises turn up as well, things that I’d forgotten I’d had and seemed very important to keep at the time, but now are relegated to the bin unceremoniously, unloved and unwanted. It’s a cathartic experience, and releases more space in cupboards, storage cabinets etc that you can fill with new untouched junk when you get to the new place. Overall though I thought the process would be daunting but having only scratched the surface, there must be more horrors hidden underneath. The process of the legal side if house moving does progress at a snails pace, and I wonder why? Solicitors are known for their caution and finding ways of dragging things out, but how long does it take to do a search on an 18 year old property? Then there’s the estate agent. To be fair, ours has been quite proactive in telling us what is going on, but a few phone calls to the various links in the chain doesn’t seem to justify the 1.5% fee, perhaps I’m doing them a mis-service. Besides the exorbitant cost of the Land Tax Stamp Duty, known colloquially as stamp duty, the estate agent takes the next biggest slice of the moving costs. Stamp duty in our case will be substantial, which just goes straight into the government’s coffers, the poor old punter gets not a thing out of it. I can’t understand why you have to pay a tax on something so large, but I suppose if they charged VAT on house sales, that would amount to ten times what I’ll be paying so I suppose it is quite a saving. Still sticks in my throat though, that sort of money could be very useful after moving. By comparison the solicitors and conveyancing fees seem quite light, and they appear to do most of the work. Ce la vie, as they say.
The process of buying, selling and moving house is fraught with all kinds of traps and decision making. This time is the first that we have undertaken ourselves since we bought our first house in Norfolk, without any outside influence. We bought this house while I was stationed in Northern Ireland and involved decisions being made jointly by Fran and my parents, now sadly departed. We’ve lived in this house for nearly all the time on our own with the children, my parents only lasted three years after we moved in. So, now onwards and upwards. Our youngest daughter has lived in Australia with her husband for three years, our eldest daughter lives about a mile away, but is thinking of moving as well, the house is really too big for house, and the garden definitely is too big. The place we are moving to also has four bedrooms but has a smaller footprint, smaller garden and crucially is at the end of a close or cul-de-sac. But the essential thing it gives us a bit more economic freedom, having sold and bought with a difference in price. I suppose what we are doing is cashing in 34 years of equity that has been built up. Of course there are things to tackle at the new house but all at a fairly low cost. Added to that and the town nearest to where we are moving is one of the newly announced ‘eco-towns’ although I’m not too sure what this will mean in real terms. Anyway I shall be updating this blog when there is progress to report.
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Band of Heaven


‘Right guys, when’s the first practice?’ John was trying to organise things.

‘We’re just waiting for Maurice to clear receiving’, said Sam

‘White or Gibb?’ asked someone else.

‘White of course’, joined in Janis, ‘Gibb’s already here’.

‘Right then lets get this show on the road’. John was very organised. ‘We need a bass player’.

‘Noel is here man’, said Jimi, ‘and if you need a drummer, well my friend Mitch is pretty good’.

‘No, I think it should be Keith’, this from another bass player, John.

‘OK, we’ll have a vote after the first session and see who wins’, said the other John.

‘We need a keyboard man’, said David

‘Well there are quite a few, from Ray Charles, Rick Wright, Billy Preston…’, Sam was starting to ramble on a bit.

‘OK man, could you please tell who those last two were?’ Jimi sounded incredulous. ‘I personally know Ray’.

‘Rick was the keyboard sounds behind Pink Floyd,’ Sid Barrett piped up, having kept quiet in the background.

‘And Billy played keys on a lot of our stuff,’ said John.

The discussions ran on and on extolling the virtues or otherwise of who should make the final line-up. It would be though an awesome band, and the only problem was what music would they play; whose sings would they use? There was much scratching of heads, because not all them had written anything lately, except David, and his were probably not mainstream enough for many of the band members. They had all the musicians, all the talent but no singer yet either. Janis was considered but is a bit avant garde, so a male rock singer was needed: Billy Fury, Buddy Holly, Marvin Gaye, Davy Jones of the Monkees were all considered. The elephant in the room was Elvis. He sat in the corner not saying a word, knowing his voice wasn’t as good as it could be.

‘OK Elv, waddya say?’ Up popped BB King.

‘Uh hu, sorry guys my voice has gone, I don’ think it would last.’ Elvis was being honest.

‘Crap, course you’ve still got it.’ Freddy Mercury threw his hat into the ring.

More names were bandied about and some obscure and little known names were offered up. A couple of wags mentioned Rod Stewart or Elton John but they were shouted down on the grounds they weren’t around yet. There were other problems which none of the assembled legends had thought about: where would the gig take place, who would be the audience, how much should they charge? Brian Epstein the Beatles manager and Malcolm McClaren the Sex Pistols manager were also sceptical about the gig.

‘Sorry chaps, this will probably only be a rehearsal band, I don’t see how we could get up a venue, let alone an audience.’ Said Brian.

‘I agree guys, its a no-brainer, let’s just have a jam session amongst ourselves, after all you’ve got a built in audience here’,

Malcolm gestured around the area and there was quite a crowd gathering; artists, politicians, actors, royalty, other musos; the whole gamut of artistic talent was here. ‘And they don’t have to pay, which means you guys won’t have to pay any taxes or expenses.

‘Why?’ Said David Bowie.
‘Yes, why?’ Added Glenn Frey
‘Gotta say the same’, piped up Lemmy of Motorhead.

‘Well its quite easy…’ started Jimi Hendrix
‘…we’re all dead man’, John Lennon really finishing things.

‘Whaddya mean’, said Bowie slightly raising his voice.

‘Well, Dave,’ started Janis Joplin, ‘It’s David’ corrected Bowie.
‘OK David, fact is man you’ve like passed away, gone to that lovely place in the sky, come to meet your maker, saying hello to St Peter…’

‘OK I get it,’ Bowie came back, ‘but that can’t be, I planned my passing, my last album was being recorded right up until I fell asleep. Well that’s what it felt like anyway.’

‘Believe me,’ said Elvis ‘You don’t believe it but there ain’t no going back bro, you’re stuck here like forever. Better make the most of it. Look around there’s Roy Orbison, Eddie Cochran, Michael Jackson, they’re all here.’

Bowie, Glenn Frey and Lemmy couldn’t believe it, they were very new so weren’t used to the older ones, who incidentally didn’t look any different from their heyday, even though some of them had been gone from 30-40 years. Hendrix looked exactly the same, so did Lennon. It began to dawn on Bowie, Frey and Co, there wasn’t any going back.

‘Look, I’ve got a few songs that none of you know, and I reckon you could all pick them up and jam along. Then you guys can tell me what you think,’ Bowie offered. He grabbed a 12 string guitar and started strumming a few chords and singing. People around were tapping their toes, nodding and generally getting into the groove. Gradually a bass guitar joined in, Keith Moon started a drum beat and Rick Wright slung in a few chords on the keyboards. Other musicians joined in until the whole effect was rather disjointed, but still basically musical.

Bowie stopped everyone, now that they all had the idea. More crowds were gathering and waiting expectantly. Bowie and the rest wanted to give a show, so he said to his fellow band members: ‘OK let’s start a 12 bar groove, and I’ll lead into my song’

They all nodded in agreement, they were after all pro musos and could jam along with just about anything. David Bowie raised his hand and turning to the crowd counted them in:

‘One, two three, four…..’

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