Stupid dog

Gravel and Holly have both been suffering from kennel cough, so we've cut them a bit of slack. However, Gravel has decided that it would be nice to sunbathe on the patio table ... I don't think so.


However, he could be the centrepiece of a Korean al fresco banquet.

This is why the Met gets into trouble

The Metropolitan Police have been heavily criticised this week for a couple a racist incidents. Officers were filmed during last year’s riots racially abusing a black man and there was also an incident where a black man trying to assist the police had been tasered by a trigger-happy officer.

It’s hard to think that such attitudes still exist within the force, but on the train to London the other day, I overheard a conversation between a Met detective and two women where he was racist, homophobic, sexist and stupid all within a couple of stops. He may be a dinosaur (I hope there are not many left like him) but he certainly demonstrated why the Met keeps getting into trouble.

The conversation started with a discussion over retirement and the detective was keen to put his feet up. The job wasn’t the same and he had a story to demonstrate his frustration. He’d been called to a hotel where a woman’s bag had been snatched. He asked to see the manager and when the manager (a woman) arrived, she’d told him she was very busy could he wait half an hour.

I agree, that was not a helpful attitude and he hadn’t taken it well. He’d wanted the CCTV and said he’d told her she had a right to help him – it was her right. I wanted to tell him that perhaps she was obliged to help him – she had an obligation – but, of course, I didn’t.

He couldn’t believe that she was being so unhelpful and he had clearly had words because she’d asked him for his number. He made a joke about her wanting his number – she wasn’t even that good looking, he said. Then he said how stupid she was for thinking he had a number; he was a detective, where was his number?

Then he explained the whole thing by telling the women that she was from eastern Europe – what did you expect.

This led on to a rant about the Border Agency, which is filled with foreigners.

He had a difficult job, cases were impossible to solve. People were reporting things stolen in order to claim on insurance. He’d had a case recently where a gay man had been to an underpants party, where the only thing you were allowed to wear were a pair of underpants. This chap had been enjoying himself in a dark corner with his friend when his £40,000 watch had been stolen. A man was seen leaving in a hurry, but the joke was that because all you could wear was underpants, where had he hidden the watch? Maybe it was up his bum?

If you’d been a victim of a crime, the last thing you’d want would be for this chap to roll up. If you were white, perhaps you’d have to listen to a rant about why the country had gone downhill; if you were black or gay, the best you could hope for would be to be patronised. It was quite depressing

I'm back on two wheels

I sold my BMW R1150GS a couple of years ago. I just wasn't riding it. In my last year with the bike, I did only 2,000 miles and all but 500 of those was on a trip to France with Tom. I got a pretty good price for it (around £4,000) and used some of the money to buy a couple of old classics - a 1961 Matchless G2 and a 1953 BSA C11. I fondly imagined myself pottering about the countryside at a steady, sensible pace and polishing the chromework on sunny Sundays.


Of course it hasn't worked out like that, old bikes need loads of TLC and there's always a list of jobs; jobs that I don't have time to do. I've put both of them on SORNs (statutory off-road notices) and they've both been sitting unused in the garage, slowly dripping oil onto my nice clean floor.


I've decided I need to put them into dry storage until I've retired and can spend some more time fiddling and fettling. Truth is that an old bike is bloody scary on the road. The BSA feels terrifying at 50mph, brakes are hopeless, the front forks are as soft as butter and you can see why sprung-hub technology was replaced with the swing-arm. You wouldn't want to ride them in traffic or on a busy A-road.


Anyway Tom got himself a bike last year - an old Suzuki SV650, which he picked up at a really good price and has been riding around London and to work. Ever since he got that, I've had a hankering to get a modern bike and decided that if I got a decent bonus this year, I'd spend some of it on a bike as a treat.


I didn't want another GS, but I did want a BMW - I really like the character of the bike, the engineering, design and build quality. The GS is a great bike and I've really enjoyed riding them, but thanks to Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman's Long Way Round travelogue it is so common (it's been the best-selling bike in the UK for quite a few years). I'm not sure why, but I wanted to get something a little quirky. I like the 1150RS and I'd also had a quick go on an R1200ST, so I thought one or other of those would do nicely.


There are quite a few RS models around from £2,500 to £4,500 and the ST comes in at around £5-6,000. I thought I might stretch to an ST if I could get one with luggage for about five grand. I've been keeping an eye out on Autotrader and saw a mint RS, but the phone number given was "outgoing calls only" and there was no e-mail address; then I saw a nice ST with luggage and within my budget. That was a "Phonesafe" number allocated by Autotrader to prevent calls from canvassers and that number didn't work either. Two nice bikes and I couldn't make contact with either seller.


Tom suggested that I tried eBay and I found a pretty good looking ST at £4,400. I contacted the seller and arranged to go to see the bike just after Easter. He was a Canadian, living in a lovely little mews not far from Paddington station and I went round there with Tom after work. I was looking for a catch because the bike was so much cheaper than anything else I'd seen, but there didn't seem to be one.


The chap who was selling it (called Zac) was spending a lot of time working in Africa and he wasn't getting any time for the grand European tours he had planned. The bike was not the right tool for London traffic and clearly hadn't been used a great deal - it was dusty from sitting in the garage and he'd had the battery on charge. He didn't seem comfortable with the bike - moving it about, starting it, putting it on its stand - so we think he'd bought it with good intentions a year ago and hadn't ridden it much since. The clock was way out of time - an indication that the battery has been allowed to run flat and when I asked him how to zero the trip, he didn't know. He was going to look through the handbook, when I saw a button on the handlebars marked "TRIP".


Anyway, it was in good condition, no scratches or serious marks, no sign of damage through accident or dropping it and it came with two panniers, plus a rack for a top box. I pointed out that the rear tyre was squared off and I'd want to get a new tyre on, so I said I'd offer him the asking price less a new tyre - £4,250 - and he said yes without blinking. He was off to Africa the following Monday (this was Tuesday after Easter) so I left him £100 cash as a deposit and arranged to collect the bike on Friday after work and give him a banker's draft for the balance.


The week was sunshine and showers and it looked as if I might be in for a wet ride home on the day. Actually, I was lucky with the weather. I picked the bike up in bright sunshine and set off for home. The route was fairly easy - straight past Paddington station onto the Edgware Road, then up through St John's Wood and West Hampstead, across the North Circular to pick up the A1 at Hendon.


Once on the A1 I was on very familiar territory. The bike rides like the flat twins I'm used to, a little lighter than the GS and with a bit more power. Handlebars are narrower than the GS, the riding position is slightly forward and the small fairing gives good protection from wind blast without buffeting. The screen will actually raise a few inches, but I don't think I'll need to do that.


Handling was a bit strange, partly due to my being rusty on a bike and partly due to that squared-off tyre. Left handers were OK, but on right-handers, the bike didn't seem to want to turn in and then when it did, it dropped into the bend a bit fast. I will get the rear tyre sorted out in a few weeks and then it should be OK. I came back along the A1 at a decent pace - steady 80mph, with the odd blast up to 90mph. Judging by the speed of other traffic the speedo is reading about 10mph fast at 90. I was a little worried to see the fuel gauge go down so quickly - it went from full to under halfway in 90 miles, but when I filled it up this morning it took only 10 litres from a capacity of 21. If he hadn't brimmed the tank, I guess I was getting north of 45mpg on the way home, which isn't too bad considering there was 10 miles of London traffic and then 80 of high-speed cruising with panniers fitted and into a stiff headwind.


On Saturday, I went to price up a top box, but they were £350 and the BMW official box is quite small. I did buy an overall-type one-piece suit that I could get on over a work suit so I can ride to the station in the morning. I did that this morning for the first time and it seemed to work OK. Bikes park free and I'd be covering 20 miles a day rather than 40 in the car if Margaret is running me in and picking me up. That means I'm halving my fuel bills and could save up to £15 per week. It also means Margaret doesn't have to get up at 5.30am to run me into the station. She doesn't mind, she says, but it is a bit of an early start.


I cleaned the bike on Sunday (between hailstorms) and it has polished up very nice. There's a bit of surface rust on the frame and some slight corrosion to the wheel rim, but that's very minor. Now the bike is dust free and the chrome polished, it looks better than ever. Pictures will be posted soon.

Highest bar in London

Actually, I'm not sure whether it is the highest bar in London, but I think it must be somewhere close! Tonight I've been to the Paramount on the 31st floor of Centre Point, one of the older "skyscrapers" in London.


At the junction of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, it was one of the controversies of the 1960s. First, there was a row about building a structure like that and the effect it would have on the surrounding area, then once it was built it remained empty for some years and there was a huge row about developers sitting on an asset after a speculative development and not having to pay rates (or council tax as it is now) because the building was empty.


It was partly this massive structure sitting in the middle of London and contributing nothing to the cost of running the city that caused the law to be changed and for council tax/business rates to be payable at a reduced rate on empty buildings. 


I remember seeing it in the 1960s (probably around 1967) when I came to London on holiday with my dad, Aunt Joan and Uncle Don. There were very few tall buildings in London then and Centre Point stood out like a telegraph pole in a field. I thought at the time what an ugly building in was - concrete grey, rectangular and just row after row of windows. I could have designed it!


Anyway, it no longer stands out on the London skyline quite so prominently, but at 31 storeys high, you certainly get a good view of London. Sky had hired out the bar for its spring drinks reception and so I was sipping sparkling wine and gazing out on the setting sun across west London at 7pm. Actually, there wasn't much of a sunset, but you did get a good view of London with massive rain squalls blowing across. The view is good and from up there distances seem to draw in, like looking through a telephoto lens - it flattens the perspective. To the west you could see Oxford Street and Hyde Park, to the north Regent's Park and the arch of Wembley Stadium away in the distance.


Southwards, there was Battersea Power Station just across the river, although you couldn't see the Thames and there was also the bell tower of Westminster Cathedral, so we could locate our office. From the east side of Centre Point, the view is better. You have St Paul's sitting in front of the city and a clutch of tall buildings standing like a copse of trees in the fens. Tower Bridge straddled the Thames and you could also see the London Eye, Canary Wharf and the Shard. The Shard looked lovely with the last of the evening light reflected on its sides. The building is almost finished, they are just topping it out with a sort of thin spikey crown - I like it.


Nearer to Centre Point I was wondering what this large buiding with a green roof was. It was the British Museum, with the green roof and dome the new covered courtyard. I should have taken some pictures, but the camera on my Blackberry is pretty useless, so you're just going to have to take my word for it.

This image comes courtesy of Tom Rayner ...

Obsession with the Titanic

Perhaps it's just me, but I do feel a distaste for the industry that's grown up around the sinking of the Titanic. The ship sank 100 years ago yesterday after striking an iceberg in the north Atlantic. More than 1,500 people lost their lives and many died a dreadful death in the icy water, with survivors sundered from their families and loved ones. It was horrific, a massive tragedy and one that shocked Britain and America to the core.


Increasingly, we've turned this awful event into an industry, and this culminated in a festival of crassness and bad taste at the centenary of the accident this weekend. This was a horrific accident with massive loss of life and it needs to be treated with some reverence, but that has been completely disregarded. I don't think it makes any difference that it happened 100 years ago and that everyone who survived the Titanic is now dead.


What does it say about us that we are able to spot the commercial opportunity in a shocking, horrific event and exploit it for all it's worth? Are we going to do the same with the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centre in 90 years time?


Of course there will be books and documentaries about the event, even films - although I was uneasy about the massive hype around the Leonardo Di Caprio and Kate Winslett film that used the tragedy as the backdrop for a pretty lame love story. Since then, we've had high-tech expeditions to locate the wreck site; remote-controlled submarines 'climbing all over it'. There have been Titanic exhibitions and now there's now a massive permanent exhibition in Belfast where the ship was built. The centenary has brought about a feeding frenzy in all things Titanic.


The Kate Winslett film has been re-released in 3D, we've had a new ITV mini-series, countless documentaries, concerts and incredibly crass news reports about the whole thing - reports that show a dreadful lack of knowledge and empathy about the disaster and treat it as an entertainment event rather than a massive human tragedy. The worse thing about the whole anniversary has been a commemorative cruise (using a  modern cruise ship) which has recreated the journey as accurately as possible (sans iceberg, of course). Places were sold out within days as people, some of whom had relatives killed or involved in the acutal event, scrabbled to be part of the ultimate Titanic experience.

Passengers at the wreath-laying ceremony - all of them
recording the solemn moment on cameras and
camera-phones.

I didn't watch the news on Sunday, but Margaret said it was featured on the morning bulletin and they held a memorial service and dropped wreaths on the sea above the wreck. Margaret said they had some lame churchman conducting a service, reading from a script (wouldn't you have thought he could have committed it to memory?), no-one knew any of the hymns and throughout the service people were taking photographs, videoing the event and holding up their mobile phones.


I hope after this feeding frenzy, people will regain some perspective and view the Titanic as a dreadful accident to be remembered with sorrow and sadness and not a festival of entertainment.

Watch out for the lapwings!

It was minus 2 deg C in Thorney this morning and there was some thick ice on the car. In Peterborough it was plus 0.5 Deg C - a full two-and-a-half degrees warmer.


It has been quite a cold and wet week. Saturday and Sunday were extremes of sunshine and showers, with a number of really wet squalls of heavy rain or hailstones.


I didn't do a great deal outside, apart from a few small jobs, including cleaning my new motorcycle (more of which later). I have planted some gourd seeds which I saved from the crop we grew last year and which Margaret had dried, varnished and stuck glitter to them (and they looked really nice and a centrepiece at Christmas). 


We hadn't seen any new seed in the shops, so I decided to take some out of the fruits and see how they did. We collected and dried them a couple of weeks ago. I'm not sure how true they will grow, but it will be interesting to see. Anyway, I've planted three test pots inside to check the seed will germinate. That will give us time to order some from Thompson & Morgan if they don't.


On Sunday, Margaret and I walked across the fen to Knarr Fen Road and both dogs had a good run. Gravel seems a bit fitter and Holly was well behaved this week (perhaps because Margaret was with me) - she did run a long way, but she didn't disappear for 15 minutes like she did last week.


On the way back, this chap approached me from the direction of the farm and asked if I could keep the dogs on the lead as we walked past the field just south of the barns. There's a field that's been left unplanted between a massive field of oilseed rape and the farm track. The chap said there was a pair of lapwings that looked as if they might nest there and that was very rare - like hens' teeth, he said. I've seen lapwings the last few weeks. There was about six swooping and crying in what looked like a mating display a couple of weeks ago and when Gravel ran across the field on Sunday, he put two birds up (probably the pair that were nesting).


The chap looked more like a conservation worker than a farmer (I didn't recognise him) and he knew what he was talking about. They are lovely birds to see and it's wonderful that they've chosen Thorney for their nest site, but a bother that they've chosen a field next to a public footpath where I walk the dogs. I'll have to keep the pair on the lead until we're past there, which curtails their exercise. Oddly enough, as I'm writing this, I've just looked out of the train window and there were two lapwings flying in the field over the Great Ouse water meadows just south of Huntingdon. They are magnificent birds, with deep black wings and white bodies. Their wings seem to have too many feathers, but they are very good fliers and can change direction mid-flight very sharply.


According to the RSPB website, lapwings will lay eggs in March to May and the eggs take three weeks to hatch and the young five weeks before they can fly. Parents lead the young away from the nest when the birds hatch and into better cover. I'd have thought they'd be really vulnerable to foxes on the fen, but I guess they know what they're doing. Anyway, I'll keep the dogs on the lead until the end of July and give the lapwings the best chance I can.

Easter weekend - eggs and lamb

Just heading into work on the train after the Easter holiday break. It's been nice to have four days off, even though time has flown by, and we've had all the children home for at least a couple of days.


I'd given up eating chocolate for Lent and I was very keen to enjoy an Easter egg on Sunday morning, which I did at around 7am. 


Max had come home on Thursday and he and Margaret had gone to the Le Creuset shop at Peterborough Garden Park in Eye to choose some dishes and pans for he and Inna as an engagement present. He'd got quite a collection of yellow and the traditional orange enamelled dishes and they'd got quite a good deal by getting sale items and also extra discount for spending over £600. There were about three bags full and they weigh a ton! I was quite pleased that Max had come in his car and he could take them back. If we'd had to take them down, they would have been impossible to carry on the train, so I would have had to drive.


On Friday, Margaret and I did the shopping in Whittlesey and then had to pop across to Sainsbury's to get Tom and Hannah a Linda McCartney quorn roast - the standard veggie option when we're having a family roast dinner. I was a bit grumpy because I thought Margaret would have popped there on Thursday when she was in Eye and now we had to make a special journey on a busy morning. We had ordered a full leg of lamb from Freeman & Daughters - one of the Whittlesey butchers. We normally use Jones, but I like to share the business out a little bit as they are both good butchers. It came to £40 for the leg and Margaret wasn't sure it was right, mainly because the end wasn't cut straight I think. Because it was a full leg, the hip ball was still in place and it didn't look as trimmed and clean as a half leg.


Lamb is very dear, especially at Easter, and it doesn't go very far. This leg, which was almost too big for the oven, fed six people with a medium-sized Tupperware container of cut meat left over (which Max polished off on Monday). Max and I took the dogs for a walk in the afternoon across the fen to Great Knarr Fen Road and back. They both had a good run. Holly is getting far more confident off the lead and now doesn't worry too much about sticking close by. She was off through the rape (which is just coming into flower) and when her nose is working hard, her ears switch off completely. We never really lost her and there's not much harm she can come to out there. Gravel is now the better of the two dogs, mainly because he's fatter and less fit, so running tires him more quickly. I will try to get them a couple of good off-lead sessions per week; I think it's important for their fitness and their waistlines.


I the evening, I made cottage pie, which (even if I say so) was very nice. Max and Margaret were back for seconds and then Max and I went across to the Rose & Crown. We couldn't persuade Margaret to come with us as she was too weary. The pub was really quiet - there was Max and I, another table of three eating a meal and then the old couple who come in every Friday. We had three pints of bitter from the Nene Valley Brewery in Oundle and it was quite good, if a little too sweet and malty. Perhaps it needed some sharper hops. Inna was at her mum and dad's this weekend and they were planning to check out a few hotels and country houses for their wedding. This is being planned for summer 2013 and the budget is around £7,500. Toby is being lined up to be best man and Tom has been asked (and agreed) to do the wedding photos. Max and Toby are going climbing in Derbyshire this week, so I think Max is planning to ask him then.


On Saturday morning, I made curries for the evening meal - a chicken Madras and a vegetarian option of Quorn Korma. They were done by lunchtime and left to stand until dinner. Curry always tastes better when given a bit of time. I had cheese for later in the evening - a Colston Bassett Stilton, a Wookey Hole Cheddar, a Tunworth from Hampshire and a Beaufort (two-year old) from France, not far from Bourg. Sam and Lucy arrived soon after lunch and Tom and Hannah late afternoon as they'd been to Stamford for a look round the shops. They'd bought a small table and some other bits and pieces. Sam, Lucy and I walked the dogs around Toneham, but they were under strict instructions to stay clean and stay out of the river, so they stayed on their leads! The food went down quite well and even Tom, who announced that he didn't like Korma, ate a very large plateful. There was not a great deal left for Margaret's dinners during the week and we made a hole in the cheese, although I forgot that I'd bought quince jelly and left that in the cupboard. I'd got some sweet Greek red wine from Tesco for a bit of off-piste wine-tasting and got three bottles out of the garage. It went down very well and was much better than I'd expected. It tasted a little like a light port.


I was very pleased to see Sunday come. I'd given up chocolate for Lent and I'd started craving it more and more. I woke up quite early with the help of Holly and Gravel and got my Cadbury's Buttons egg out of the fridge and ate the whole thing while listening to Zee TV. What a bizzare start to the morning! Margaret seemed a bit grumpy that I'd eaten a whole egg, perhaps she'd wanted to present it to me? We had hot cross buns made by Lucy for breakfast. She wasn't happy that they'd risen enough, but they were actually quite good and I managed to eat one and a half buns even after a whole Easter egg. While Margaret cooked dinner, I took the dogs on the fen walk with my sister, who was coming to join us for dinner and was bringing a pudding. It was going to be a pavlova, but when I went round to tell her we were ready to walk, it had been overcooked so it was brown on top and stuck fast to the tin. Pudding became rhubarb crumble instead!


It was a lovely day, cool, but quite sunny. Tom had been out for a run early on and had seen three owls hunting in the fields off Knarr Fen Road, including one sitting on a road sign as he turned off the old A47. Tom said he didn't know who looked more surprised - him or the owl. Holly and Gravel were having a great time on our walk and Holly disappeared into the fields for a good 15 minutes just where we were going to turn around. We kept catching glimpses of her, but she wasn't ready to come back any time soon. The dogs put up lots of ducks, which are perhaps feeding in the rape fields, and we also saw a number of plovers (lapwings) flying in a wild fashion and calling out to the others. It was either the joy of spring or a mating dance in the air - perhaps both.


When Holly did, eventually, join us again, we started back only to lose both her and Gravel in a rape field. Gravel popped out at the top and ran across to join us, but there was no sign of Holly. We'd walked on to the start of the fen where I generally put the dogs back on their leads and we waited there for some time before I decided I'd better go and look for her. I put Gravel on his lead and walked briskly back not bothering to wait for my sister, who is quite a slow walker. Holly was there at the edge of the field, running up and down the dyke. Perhaps she was wondering where we were because she came straight away and went straight on her lead. We'd been out for a couple of hours!


Back home, Sam and Max had gone to cricket nets with Bretton and Tom was sitting on the lawn reading. He said he was quite bored (I think Hannah was working on a project for the FSA - she was off to Frankfurt on Tuesday) so I suggested the pub and Margaret, who was in a pretty good mood, volunteered to wash the dogs solo. We headed to the Rose before she changed her mind!


There was no Nene Valley Bitter as the barrel had finished, so I had Cuckoo and Tom went for Old Trip. He took one taste and pulled his face. The barmaid, Helen, was obviously a bit worried about the beer and must have been watching his response. She said it had been on for more than a week and was probably past its best - typical Steve! Anyway, she swapped it without protest for a Tydd Steam beer and Tom stayed on that. It was light and very hoppy, which is just how he likes it.


When we got back, it was time to watch motorcycle racing. Tom and I were excused sitting at the table. Originally, we were in trouble for being anti-social, but then I think Margaret realised that it was quite useful not having to bring in the table from outside to accommodate eight people. The racing was the first Grand prix of the season (from Qatar) and is a night race under floodlights because it's too hot to race during the day. MotoGP has gone back up to 1000cc capacity and a new 250cc four-stroke single capacity (Moto3) has replaced 125cc two strokes. I was sorry to see 125s go, but Moto3 was pretty entertaining and the 250s sounds just like little Ducatis tearing round the track. Cal Crutchlow, the current British hope, had a good weekend with fourth place. Hope he can keep it up.


Monday comes round all too quickly. We went to the driving range to hit a few balls in the morning and I'd made cheese scones and some focaccia for breakfast as well as a loaf for the week. Tom and Hannah left late morning and Sam and Lucy around lunchtime. The day was a bit wet and rainy, but it brightened up enough for a walk round Toneham with Margaret and Max. Holly brought the weekend to a rousing climax by gobbling down her dinner, going into the lounge and vomiting the whole lot back up on the mat!

Mugged - by a car dealer

When I've had my car serviced, the garage always phones next day to ask if I'm happy and if everything is all right.


This time when they called I wanted to say no, that I'd taken my car in for an oil change and come out with a bill for £900 and I felt as if I'd been mugged. I should have given some negative feedback, but I didn't. The girl calling is their receptionist and she's not the one to be moaning at.


I've always had my last few cars serviced by Andy Bunyan in the village. He's a good, old-fashioned engineer, who will repair rather than replace and will always find you the best deal. When I got my current car - a 1996 BMW 520d Touring - I thought it all seemed a bit complicated and high-tech for Andy.


He's well versed in the world of sensors and electronic-management systems, but the BMW takes things to a new level. It has a smart key which stores all faults and alerts and which can be read by inserting it into a special terminal at the dealer; also the car has an on-board computer and display which gives information about service requirements. It's not one of the simple, mileage-based counters, which just take the current mileage, count down 10,000 and then say it's time for a service. This tells you when your oil is due to be changed; how many miles you have left on your brake pads and when your MoT is due. It even gives you a count-down on the diesel particulate filter - and that lasts 100,000 miles.


So I took the view that the BMW might be better taken to the main dealer despite Andy saying that he did several BMWs. Well, I've paid dearly for the lesson, but this last one took the biscuit, mainly because I wasn't prepared for such a bill.


The computer said I was due an oil change, so I booked it in and also asked them to repair the rear tailgate window catch, which had been diagnosed as a faulty switch at £70 plus fitting. BMW estates have a nice feature where the rear window is hinged as well as the main tailgate. It means you can just open the window to drop something in the boot, which is very convenient, and it also means you can really pack the boot solid when you're going on holiday or moving house and then keep adding things through the back window. On other cars you'd be pushing stuff in with one hand and trying to close the tailgate with the other.


Anyway, I thought I'd have that done as I was only expecting a small charge for the oil change. When I got to the dealer, the key told the receptionist that my brake fluid was due to be changed in a couple of months and also there was just a couple of hundred miles before the front brake pads needed to be changed. Did I want those doing at the same time? I said yes to the brake pads, but the brake fluid could wait until the MoT was due in June.


After a hour, the receptionist came to tell me they had taken the brake pads off and checked the thickness of the discs and they were a couple of mm below the minimum recommended thickness. Did I want those changing too? I said OK. A little while later, the message was that they'd fitted a new tailgate switch, but it hadn't worked. The problem must be a bad connection or broken wire and not the switch. Because their engineer had misdiagnosed the problem, they wouldn't charge me for the switch, but did I want them to try to find the problem (with the warning that it might take some time as they'd have to remove some trim)? I was a bit miffed, because, clearly, the chap who diagnosed the fault had not tested the switch, he'd just assumed that was the problem. Now, they were assuming that it was a broken wire and wanted me to pay them £100 an hour to see if that was the case. I said no thank you.


Anyway, the bill for oil change, new brake pads and new front discs was £906 including VAT. That included £395 for parts and £360 for labour. The oil change also requires a number of other filter changes. I was charged £83 for oil (fully synthetic) and there was just under 6 litres of that, plus £15 for an oil filter, £21 for an air filter, £34 for a fuel filter and £67 for a microfilter (I think that goes on the air-conditioning). Brake pads were £85 and brake discs £147.


So you can see why I feel as if I'd been mugged. For its MoT in June, I'll take the car to Andy. It might be cheaper to buy him one of those key readers for his PC than to continue to take it to the main dealer.

Another Monday morning ...-

I've not been very organised (or conscientious) this past week. I've not managed to post my diary entry, so I've got two to do this week.


I'm not sure where the time went last week. On Monday last week, Tom called to say that he and Hannah were on holiday as a 30th birthday treat and did I want to stay at their flat. I think it's quite useful having someone about and it's also handy not to have to get up so early each day. Tom had meant to mention it to me on Saturday, but had forgotten in the rush of the party.


I popped round to Highgate late afternoon to pick up the key and it was a beautiful day, really warm. Tom has planted up some baskets with primulas, which are in full flower, so will be over in a week or so, also some azaleas. We had a look down his garden and considered his plans to put in some steps and cut back some of the undergrowth. There are some nice shrubs and plants around the top part, including a splendid camellia, but it is a bit wild as you go further down. It would need a lot of work and money to make it really nice (which it could be) but I'm sure Tom could make it better (and more usable) with a bit of work.


The weather continued nice all week and I kept planning to walk down to Finsbury Park via the Parkland Walk, but for one reason or another it just didn't happen. Sometimes, your time seems to disappear for no good reason. Tom and Hannah were going to spend a night in Poole and were then off to Bath for four nights, staying in the Royal Crescent. I was quite envious - I really like Bath. If I ever win the Euro Millions lottery (which is unlikely because I never do it), I'd buy a house on the Circus.


My diet suffered a little during the week as there was party leftovers - nuts and bread-sticks - to eat up and also the dregs of a few bottles of wine that had been left for me. On Thursday night, I went for a couple of beers with Sam and Lucy to the World's End in Finsbury Park. Nice to have a catch up for a couple of hours and they both seemed very well.


Work-wise, Donald was sacked on Thursday night. It was a shame to see him go, as he was a really nice chap and the office was a bit gloomy on Friday morning. Davina, in particular, was upset about the whole thing.


On Saturday, it was back in the familiar routine, but with a few variations. We went to Whittlesey, but instead of going to Jones the butcher, we went to Freeman and Daughters. I wanted to see if they could get me some hogget (year-old lamb) but they couldn't. They said no-one ever asked for mutton or hogget (well I had, but it seems I was the first). We got a chicken for coque au vin as Pauline and Chris were coming round that night and we also ordered a leg of lamb for next weekend (Easter) when Sam and Lucy and Max are coming home.


Pauline and Chris arrived at about 7.30pm and Pauline was in some pain. They'd been considering some new furniture for their lounge and Pauline had stepped back to picture how a new sideboard would look when she stepped on a child's push-along toy and fell backwards into the piano stool. She'd winded herself and bruised her rib-cage, so she was a bit sore. She was in good humour, however, and they stayed until after midnight. In fact, Pauline was in better form than me - I was absolutely jiggered at the end of the evening. I've not seen them for some weeks, so it was good to have a catch up.


On Sunday, we went across to Rugby to pick up some ski boots I'd bought on eBay. I'd decided to buy my own skiing gear on eBay as it cost around £100 to hire stuff each time. It's not been without problems and the first pair of boots I got proved too small for me and the first ski poles I got arrived without a cup on the bottom, so they'd sink straight into soft snow. I bought a size larger ski boots for £35 and they are a good make (Salomon) and a good fit at size 10. The chap I got them off had just bought them and found they were too small. He needed an 11, so I think Salomon boots must be made a slightly smaller fit than others.


It was a nice drive across to Rugby and we were there and back in less than three hours. I'd never really been to Rugby before, except years ago when I was on my way to Bristol and the M6 had been closed. We came off the A14 and went through Cathorpe and another nice little village before getting into Rugby. The countryside was lovely and Rugby stood very nicely on a bit of a rise as we approached. However, there were two massive concrete tower blocks on the edge of the town, completely out of character and keeping with the rest of the town. How on earth did the planning authority allow those to be built? Truth is, they were probably council houses.


I spent the afternoon in the garden, sorting out some weeding and planting. I also build a small veg plot at the bottom, where we can grow salad crops, with a wire frame over the top to prevent Holly and Gravel treading down my radishes. We're trying to put a few more pollen-rich plants in the garden this year to encourage bees and butterflies and I've got nasturtiums and some dwarf sweet peas in puts to germinate and have also planted out some sedum and some single dahlias. We've got cornflower, cosmos and night-scented stock ready to grow from seed. It's interesting that many of the common garden plants, such as begonia, geranium and pansy are pretty useless for insects. Even most dahlias are double or cactus-flowered so their centres have been bred smaller with less nectar and harder to get at. We're putting in single flowers and some plants are now starting to be labelled as bee friendly, so that's a good thing.


My other project, of course, is to find myself a new motorcycle. I'd located a 2004 BMW R1150RS with full luggage, ABS and heated grips, and 50,000 miles at £3,250. When I went to show Margaret, I found it had been dropped to £2,995. There was just one problem - the number given in the ad was outgoing calls only and there was no e-mail address, so there's no way of contacting the seller. I guess he must be wondering why he's not getting any calls.


It was a lovely weekend, especially Sunday, which had defied a poor weather forecast and March finished as one of the sunniest and warmest on record. Apparently, it will get colder this week and there's even some chance of snow showers.

Good news - bad news

It has been one of those times where there were lots of reason for celebration, but also a bit of yan with every yin.


Sam passed his practical, which means he just needs to see out his current placement in order to qualify as a GP (which he will do in the summer). He's worked hard for this - pretty much since he left school at 18, he's been at university or in a training post. That's 11 years, so you can appreciate how happy and relieved he must be to this close to qualifying.


Sam doesn't have a job when he qualifies, but he's hoping that he will be offered a few days at his current placement in Leyton and a couple of days maternity cover at a practice in Bishops Stortford. He can then make up a decent living with some locum work. He'll have to set himself up as a freelance, but that should be relatively straightforward as long as he is organised.


Once Lucy completes her PhD and finds a job, they should be very comfortably off. Sam wants to take a gap year before settling down to work and his plan is to spend the winter of 2013/14 in the Alps.


So great news from Sam, but bad news from Cheshire, where we heard that my Aunt Pam, the last of my dad's sisters, has been diagnosed with bowel cancer. She noticed some bleeding and quite quickly sought treatment, so she'd had an endoscopic examination, which discovered a cancerous polyp. She's been back in hospital last week for further examination, to see what the extent of the cancer is, I guess.  


My cousin Suzie called with the news and spoke to Margaret at some length. Margaret says it was just like talking to my dad, the way she tells a story, repeats the best bits and double checks the facts by getting you to repeat them. We sent Aunt Pam a card to say good luck and that we were thinking about her and she called on Saturday to say thanks and bring us up to date. She sounded quite perky (as ever) and said she'd let us know how she got on.


Another piece of good news was that I had confirmation that I had achieved my full bonus for 2011. With the extra cost of travelling to London, it's really important to me that I achieve full bonus. Travel costs me £6,500 per annum out of taxed income, which means I have to earn £13,000 to pay for my season ticket and Oyster card. It's a lot to find each year, so you can see why I was pleased. However, a conversation with my line manager took some of the shine off it when it was suggested that if I pushed for a pay rise (which I have been doing) my bonus might not be so easy to achieve in future years. Not best happy to hear that informal threat, but I decided not to seek confrontation and wait to see what the bonus offer would be. As I'm so close to retirement, it doesn't make sense for me to throw my toys out of the pram, so I bit my tongue. It's annoying because I do enjoy my job and I feel I'm making a valuable contribution with my knowledge and experience.


Ho-hum - to make me feel better, I'm definitely going to buy another motorcycle; probably a BMW R1150RS or R1200ST, which I'll use for some pleasure riding and a bit of commuting. I can ride to the station on nice days, which will save on fuel costs for the BMW and mean that Margaret doesn't have to get up so early in the morning in order to take me to the station. I've seen a couple of likely bikes, so that's a job for April or May (I won't be in a hurry, it's important to find the right one).


At the weekend, it was Hannah's 30th birthday party at their flat. It was an '80s theme and Hannah went as Margaret Thatcher, wearing a blue suit and a wig. Tom dressed as Adam Ant with a blousy shirt and face paint; Max came as a glam-rock star with eye-liner and a black INXS wig and Inna went for the Happy Days look. One of Tom's friends arrived as a Rubic Cube, someone else arrived as Michael Jackson (well, he had a white glove on and that was it). Margaret and I made no effort at all and nor did Sam and Lucy. It wasn''t a big party, just family and a few friends. Hannah's mum, dad, brother and sister were there, along with Lil's partner Ollie. They are in the process of buying a house in Reading and are waiting to exchange contracts, while Hannah's mum and dad have sold their house in Reading and are buying a smaller place in Henley.