It’s nice to see so many people enjoy a Battleaxe rant (see the last post). It seems to be the case that the appearance of a ranty piece reassures readers that my mental health is up to scratch – but surely getting so angry with life can’t be healthy. So, sorry, rant-fans, only a small serving this week. I went with a WI group to see the Bob Mazzer Retrospective exhibition at the Hastings Museum and Art Gallery. Bob showed us round himself. Also, this year the bluebells are amazing. We combined a walk through a bluebell wood with Philosopher’s first pub lunch – and even found more bluebells at the Carr Taylor Vineyard.
So, here’s Bob. He’s broken his ankle, hence the crutches, but that didn’t cramp his style. He gave us all the back stories to the photos, except the fact that the London Underground photos were taken on his way to work – as a projectionist in a porn cinema. Maybe he thought that us WI women had delicate sensibilities. Incidentally, never mind the WI, surprising numbers of people do appear to have delicate sensibilities. As I think I have mentioned before, throughout my working life people complained becasue I was too sweary. Surely, by this time in my life I really shouldn’t be surprised to discover people who don’t like so-called ‘bad’ language, but I still am taken aback every time…
Anyway, the exhibition is well worth a visit. I think Bob was a bit disappointed that none of us were sufficiently into photography to appreciate his talk about lenses, exposure times etc. As you can tell from these posts, Battleaxe is fond of taking photographs and I think some I take are reasonable, but I only use the camera on my iphone.
It is quite a good camera as far as phone cameras probably go, but it has its limitations. One thing that is always hard is to photograph bluebells and get the colour looking bright and lifelike. They either come out all dull, not in focus, and then when you try to brighten up the colour they get too garish. Earlier in the week we went for a nice outing to the Two Sawyers pub in Pett. If you walk across the field behind the pub you walk straight into the most beautiful bluebell wood. It was lovely to see a fine display of wood anemones on show at the same time as the bluebells. The little white flowers are even harder to photograph than the bluebells – they turn into an unfocussed white mass. Anyway, here are some of my efforts.
After the bluebells we actually had a pub lunch – Philosopher’s first meal out. He had a child’s portion of fish and chips, and enjoyed it. I had my first pint of Harveys in months!
Talking of booze, at Christmas Philosopher’s son Tom sent us a Carr Taylor vineyard voucher, so yesterday we decided to go along and have a look. It is only a couple of miles from here, in Westfield. Needless to say, the place was deserted except for one woman in the shop. She told us they were worried about the weather – the extreme dry, coupled with a threat of frost just when the vines are at their most vulnerable – putting out tender shoots. We spent the voucher on some bottles (the ginger wine is fab btw) and had a quick look at the vines – it was freezing cold out. They also have a little bluebell wood – with bluebells of a particularly intense blue.
OK then, just for you, rant-lovers… Talking of porn, as we were at the top of the page, what is this latest nonsense about a Tory MP watching porn on their phone in the HoC? If the story is true, they certainly know who it is, so why don’t they nab the grubby little horror. It should be a sacking offence. Otherwise, I assume it is to distract us from yesterday’s news that the government has been found to have been acting unlawfully in letting 20,000 die in care homes at the start of the pandemic. What a surprise. Not. Talking of the pandemic, our media has totally given up reporting the very high numbers of current UK Covid deaths – 304 yesterday, 451 the day before that, by far the highest in the world. We are constantly told that numbers of infections are dropping – no surprise as there aren’t any tests – so who are these people who keep on dying? Don’t know. Nobody says. The Tories came round here canvassing last night. Philosopher went to the door and sent them packing without letting me at them. Curses. None the less, I thundered out into the street and asked some man with a blue rosette in what ways the ethos and values of our local Tories might differ from those of the parliamentary party… He shied away like a startled horse and said ‘I’m not talking to you, Madam.’ Well.
Did I say? No. Philosopher was called for his fourth Covid booster shot last week, as he is over 75. I went with him to Laycocks in Ore, and the woman giving the jabs said she’d do me as well, as I was his ‘carer’. Am too young, but was not going to refuse… it was the Moderna vaccine this time. However, needless to say I spent all the next day feeling terrible – feverish, headachy, tired. Same thing has happened with every jab I have had – I totally lose the next day.
Ah well, onwards and upwards… look at this lovely clematis in our garden.