Roland Ladley's Blog, page 45

Oh … Tunisia

Ok, Tunisia (sorry about yesterday).

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Think southern Italy (same latitude), but poorer still, and without the piles of unharvested rubbish and no roadside prostitutes. It’s all two storey high, block built houses, but (mostly) with ornate doorways, painted white. Tiles are big here and they cover everything with them.

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Outside of the tourist areas things are pretty run down and very north African. Sheep with attending shepherds graze the side of the roads, shops spill onto the streets and on vast tracks of land the only crop we could see was olives. It is said (probably by a Tunisian) that Tunisian olive oil is the best in the world. Most of the country is uninhabited, and most of it is steppe-like. The south tends to the Sahara desert.

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The coastline is one long beach: lovely sand and, after a period of calm, crystal clear water. However, away from the hotel fronts the beach v quickly becomes plastic central. They are a mess. There are a number of things to see. The markets are typical souks (one Dinar, best price for you …), there are a lot of Roman remains (did a huge collusium today), mosques, forts and Berber villages. But it is not culture heavy.

The people (99% Muslim) are mostly lovely. The woman always engage and always smile. Half of the men are charming, the other half are stern and, if you’re of a nervous disposition (hardly surprising after 38 tourists were murdered in 2015), clearly terrorists; which they are not. We found the Turkish men the same, but I can tell you that I’ve felt much more at ease here than I did in Istanbul just a year ago.

All-inclusive? Well it’s a first for us. On chatting to our fellow guests, people come here because it’s cheap. We paid £750 all-in (we know of one couple who paid £600). Whatever, we thought that good value … until I checked our hotel on TripAdvisor and read the recent reviews. After that we came with v low expectations. The reviews were wrong. The hotel (4-star) has been built with grand intentions. And it almost meets them. Our rooms are huge, the two outdoor pools are massive and wonderfully clean, the indoor pool is good, there’s a gym, a spar and access straight onto the beach. It’s clean and only one or two of the staff are grumpy. The food is good (no hamburgers, it’s Tunisian and better for it) and plentiful. The beer (which is free) is perfectly quaffable and the red wine is on tap in the restaurant. Ok, so we’re not all-inclusive aficionados, but it ticks all our boxes (apparently you do get better, but you do pay more).

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Our hotel has a number of local guests (it’s about 25% full) and they clearly love all-inclusive. Watching how they like to pile their plates … many plates …is a sight to behold. I guess the Brits make up for it at the bar. So, all-inclusive gets our vote. It is so good to not to have to think about how much things cost.

More on our itinerary later, but in a nutshell: day one was a 6-mile beach walk to Hammamet, and a bus back; day two was a taxi to the next but one coastal village, and a bus back; day three was an organised trip inland to a big mosque and a huge collusium, which is where they filmed Life of Brian (love it).

Oh, and I lost my glasses somewhere on day one’s 6-mile walk. I was wearing my prescription sunglasses at the time. Bugger. I fumbled about for a bit and then, yesterday, I found a street vendor selling glasses and he had a pair (short-sighted) half the strength I need … for £6. They’ll do! C reckons I look like Himmler or some other pervy chap. Oh well

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More later!

We will remember them?

If you don’t want the usual Ladley lecture, then skip the next couple of paragraphs and go on to the bits about Tunisia.

I’m not anti-Brexit because I think the UK will lose loads of cash if we pull out of the economic union. Whatever form it takes, I think it’s clear that it might be fiscally close to catastrophic in the short term, but who can tell in the mid-to-long term? It might just work … we might be better off. I’m not anti-Brexit because I’m for open borders. No, with a small, busy, already over-populated country I can see that we need to look closely at how we manage immigration; at how we deal with asylum. For the record I am a multiculturalist. I couldn’t care less what colour, creed, sexual persuasion, religion etc you are. Having travelled a lot and lived and worked with all manner of people the ratio of good people to bad people is the same whatever they call themselves, whoever they worship and wherever they live. And I’m not anti-Brexit because I think the EU is a well-oiled machine which we shouldn’t abandon. No. It’s rubbish in parts and needs a good overhaul, especially in light of where the world finds itself today.

And I’m not particularly anti-Trump because I can’t find a single redeemable feature about him; which I can’t. I’m not particularly anti-Trump because he’s a racist and a misogynist – which I think the record shows that he is. I’m not anti-Trump because every policy decision he has made is wrong. NATO allies should pay more for their collective defence. And, although I’m no expert, China is almost certainly stealing US industrial secrets and fixing its currency. And I’m not anti-Trump because he’s wholly partisan, when he should be trying to bring the country together … that’s what leaders do.

No.

I’m anti-Brexit and anti-Trump because history tells us that nationalism and isolationism breed mistrust and fear. They sew arrogance and xenophobia. They hand power to individuals and wrestle it from the rest of us.

The UK is known and respected for the rule of law. It gets things right – with hundreds of years of stability we are a beacon for trust and fair play. People regard us highly. And yet. Just when Europe needs stability, with the far-right emerging in countries nowhere near as temporally stable as ours, we walk away from the table with a message that says, ‘we don’t want to belong to your rubbish club anymore’. Just when solidarity is needed, we, the centre of right and wrong, set an example for others to follow. If you don’t like it – leave.

And they will.

And Trump is doing the same thing on a global scale. His disdain for international treaties, his disrespect for allies and his ignorance of what is the right thing to do when everyone looks to the US for ‘the normal’, is telling crackpots and dictators that ‘that’s ok’.

One hundred years ago … no let’s reflect on all of the conflicts over the past one hundred years. People gave their lives to create a world where the world found a balance. The big players, the large alliances co-existed. Global warming was recognised as a big thing. Treaties were put in place to keep a lid on nuclear disarmament. Europe, the centre of all things war-like, had become so close it was impossible to see how friends could become enemies. Yes, there were tiffs. But a common good was recognised.

Now, with Trump and Brexit, the stable platform that we have enjoyed is crumbling. Our children will inherit a world-order that is disintegrating. Friends are already becoming foes. Bullies are rising. Fear and hatred is among us.

And we are to blame. Our generation. For ignoring the poor. For giving up on the dispossessed. For looking out for number one. For being so short-sighted that we ignore history and dismiss the future. Yes, we’re going to be OK. I will not get called up to serve. I am too old. But my kids might. I will not drown in rising sea-levels, but my grandchildren will need to invest in a boat.

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we should remember them

Oh, and what about Tunisia?

We’re having a fab time. And I will post again soon cos I’ve got a lot to tell you! So, sorry if you skipped to the end only to find that I’m still droning on. And on.

Sorry.

Harrumph

I don’t want to talk about the ‘blue ripple’, that is that His Donaldness didn’t quite get the smashing he deserved in the US mid-terms. I don’t want to talk about the fact that he’s since fired his AG, Sessions, and will now look at closing down the Mueller probe into his relationship with Russia and Russian businesses. And I don’t want to talk about how he’s barred Jim Acosta, the CNN White House correspondent, from the WH for asking difficult questions.

But, as ex-Army and having served in a few interesting places in my 25 years, I want to make a single point (which might go on for two or three). His Orangeness has never visited a member of the military serving overseas, anywhere. He’s not been to Iraq, nor Afghanistan. He has, of course, been golfing. A lot. And he has used Air Force 1 to transport himself to 72 political rallies since he won the election; in the last one he used AF1 as a backdrop for his rally … both of those things are unethical; I think the last one may be illegal. He is, after all, the president of the whole of the US, and not just 37% of it. Seventy-two rallies. That’s about one every ten days since his election. One day in every ten he’s doing the ‘look at me’ thing, whilst not running the country. Sorry, but what does that tell you?

And he’s never been to an operational theatre. Where he might have to put on a flak jacket. And eat food with some sand in it.

Final thing. I bet there’s no more fuss about the thousand-odd shoeless immigrants who are heading to the US border. I’m guessing the soldiers with their guns (more nights out of bed for the poor blokes and girls who should be home with their families, resting between overseas tours – will they still be there for Christmas?) will not get much of a mention either. No? That’s because it was a political stunt, backed up by vile and untrue propaganda, and the odd baseless campaign add.

As an ex-soldier, and in the run up to November 11th, I am appalled (and intrigued, I have to say) by state of US politics and what it says about half of the US folk who voted on Tuesday. He cares not for you. Really. He only cares about himself, and how you lot see him. He’s not a great politician, nor is he, by record, a great businessman. And, for me … and I would say a lot of my country … he is no longer the leader of the free world.

The good news is we’re off to Tunisia for a week tomorrow. Hurrah!

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lots of collars and leads to finish

And, for the record, it’s been a busy first half of the week for us. For me, three days at Jen’s sewing lots of stuff.

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cheers! We’re escaping the madness and heading off to Tunisia!

Good Saturday

We have been busy, in a social sort of sense.

First books. Well, having said sales had dropped of a cliff last time I wrote, I went and sold a few books and made it to the then of October having sold over one a day – which is my baseline. And I’ve sold 7 books this month already. And ‘Pennant’, the Services’ pension society, have told me that whilst an article I wrote for them didn’t make the November issue, there was a new editor and maybe they’d publish it next time. In the mean time would I send them my latest book; they would review it for me. The Pennant must have close to 100,000 readers, so fingers crossed.

And I should be finished chapter 15 by the end of the day. That’s 5 chapters short of 130,000 words, which should be enough. So it’s writing for me this afternoon.

We were with Jen and Thursday – and that went well. I can’t for the life of me remember what we did on Friday. C did lots of cooking. I did some writing, and I’m sure we did some other stuff.

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Elizabeth and Andrew outside outside of their mansion

Yesterday was a great day. First we took the trike (Scarlet) into Bristol to have lunch with school (work school, not school school) friends of ours. It was fab to see them (picked up some tips for our trip to Tunisia on Friday) in their new home. Elizabeth has just retired and they’ve moved into a beautiful, colossal, old (1700s) merchant’s house on the waterfront just down from the suspension bridge. It took us about an hour to do the tour (vaulted cellar – fab) and then lunch. Back home on Scarlet. And that was great. For the first time I felt really confident with C on the back, nipping in and out of traffic.

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C ready to get on the trike…

Last night Peter and Karen came round. They own half of the Cotswolds and were close to being persuaded to come in their Aston Martin. So would our two-up, two-down in Bradley Stoke work its magic? Well C made some great grub and the old girl (the house, not C) delivered. We had a fab time … and it has encouraged us to invite everyone and their wives round. Well done the house and please invite yourselves!

Finally, for the record, I’m running daily at the moment. It’s about to clear what I think is a long-term virus which has been dragging me down a bit. So far that’s been going well. I’ll keep you in the loop.

Trick or treat?

Something happened the other day, I was filling up with fuel on the way to the party in London and spotted 10 battery-powered LED-pumpkins. I bought them. Which surprised the hell out of me, and shocked C. And, tonight, as I pen this, we have a bucket of lollipops and a set of lights hanging on our front door proclaiming we are open for business. You see we’re not miserable old so-and-sos, are we? And, power to the kids and parents who have been round, they’ve all been scarily dressed = and they’ve all said ‘thanks’, nicely.

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trick or treat…

The US take Halloween much more seriously than we do, although Sainsbury’s are trying their best to help us catch up. The US take a lot of things more seriously than we do. Like allowing any Tom, Dick or Dirty Harry to own a gun. And, of course, they have their very own bogeyman, his Donaldness, who continues to run the country as though it is his own reality TV show. Of course he’s not had a great couple of days. The pipe bomber worked out of the back of a van that was plastered with pro-Trump stickers, including a photo of Hilary C in the cross hairs. Then there’s the awful shooting in the Pittsburgh synagogue, to which Trump’s first media response was. ‘it wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been someone in the congregation who was armed’. All right then, off to church. Oh, and don’t forget the AK47. What he didn’t point out was that four armed policemen were shot by the perp on the scene. So more guns may not be the answer. And he went to Pittsburgh yesterday, when the mayor asked him not to come – and none of the senior politicians he asked to come with him attended. The man has the emotional intelligence of an alligator.

And there’s the caravan of 5,000 migrants heading through Mexico – on foot, they won’t be at the border for a couple of weeks – which Trump is declaring (almost) a national emergency. So much so, he’s sent a load of US troops to bolster the border. Frankly, as most of those trudging away from persecution and economic hardship are without shoes, I’d just rent a helicopter and buy a million drawing pins and drop them at likely crossing points. Trump reckons the caravan’s full of ‘bad hombres’ and disease. Actually they’re heading for the border to apply for asylum, something people have been doing for as long as there’s been a border. The US is, after all, a nation of immigrants. Donald should know – all of his closest family, including two wives, come from that stock. The hypocrisy is unfathomable.

Move on, Roland!

Finished the upstairs carpets – and they’re great. OK, I wouldn’t be invited into the carpet layers’ guild, but they’ll do. And we now have the heating on, so you’re more than welcome to pop round – and there’s no need to bring a beanie.

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our bedroom carpet now …

Jen’s tomorrow for some more sewing, and then three days off, where I aim to finish Chapter 15 and maybe start 16. It’s all fits and starts, but you can’t edit what you haven’t written.

That’s it from us!

It’ll be an absolute disaster, darling

I’m sorry, but I’m putting it out there. I don’t do clothes. I’m not saying I’m a naturist, I’m just saying that clothes are not important to me. I wear what’s comfortable and, if given the choice, would wear the same thing day in, day out. I do know where the shower is, and, thankfully, I’m not a smelly person, but I have been known to wear the same clothes for a season. It drives my kids mad. And C’s not always happy wandering around with a hobo.

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from C’s photostock. Straight from Beauty and the Beast

I went straight from school (where we wore uniform – no choice necessary) to Sandhurst where we were told what to wear. The stuff the quartermaster chose was, by and large, comfortable and practical. Twenty five years in the Army followed the same pattern. When they updated the uniform, they gave us new stuff. When the formal wear didn’t change, I just got into my old stuff – and having not changed shape, I think I wore my best (mess) kit without it ever going into the dry cleaners. I’m sure C would say that’s not right, but I never missed it long enough to think that it might have disappeared for a bath.

And, out of uniform, I wore, well, uniform. You know. Chinos and polo shirts. Boat shoes and flip flops. Checked jackets and the odd pair of jeans. But, down time was such a precious resource in those days, what I wore remains a blur.

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more from C. A brilliant cake for the party

School. Simple. Chinos and a jacket. The same pair of shoes until they fell apart and then I went to TK Maxx and bought another pair. It was uniform, plain and simple.

So, you see. I’ve never had much interest in clothes, because I have never needed to. And I am hardly a clothes horse. I’m 18 feet tall with a pigeon chest and, as my Saville Row tailor told me once (we had no choice … M&S suits weren’t acceptable in my Regiment), ‘You have very big thighs. Suits you, sir!’, his head at crotch height, his tape measure in his mouth and his hands too close for comfort.

Today we left Bristol for Mary’s. Normally that’s easy from a wardrobe perspective. Walking trouser (or Empire-building shorts), t-shirt and a fleece. Easy. Two days? I might need a second pair of pants. But the same socks will be fine.

But, no. We are going to a lunch party on tomorrow, with a pile of gay men who talk about their shoes a lot. What am I going to wear? Oh, God. Look at my wardrobe! I’ll be ridiculed. What about my white jeans? No, they have a mark on the pocket. What about some school chinos? Are you kidding me? Normal jeans? You know, the ones you’ve not been seen in this century because, as you say, ‘Old men don’t wear jeans.’

I think I broke down at one point. It was a disaster, darling.

Anyway. I’ll let you know how it goes in my jeans, lumberjack shirt and Weird Fish fleece. It’ll be sooooo 2000s, darling. And don’t even ask about my shoes…

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h/s/l carpet fitted. Not a bad effort

Well, this week I finished the hall/stairs/landing carpet and it looks OK, I think. I finished Chapter 14 (87k words), which is a pivotal chapter as it introduces the main villain, which will be a shock to most of you. The problem is, whilst I know the conspiracy, I have absolutely no idea what happens now. Really. I have 50k words to scribe and no plot, other than Sam gets beaten up a bit, and finally gets her man. I think.

Oh, and book sales have dropped off the cliff. And I had my very worst review on Thursday. A 1-star horrible thing, written by someone who thought I was both an amateur and an impostor. Horrible … followed by two lovely, 5-star reviews. It was as though they were both reading a different series. Whatever, it’s fair to say that it’s not been a good book week. But I am still writing, grinding out some good stuff I feel. And even better after an edit.

Anyhow. Must go and polish my Doc Martins…

 

I am an expert

Yesterday we left a well known carpet suppliers with three rolls of really quite decent carpet. We bought an end of roll brownish carpet for our bedroom, a lighter brown off cut (4 x 2.2m) for the spare bedroom and another greyish off cut for the hall/stairs/landing. Total cost = £277 (the 2 off cuts were about to go to the skip and we paid £49 for each one of them). The man who sold us the carpets was clearly thrilled to be getting rid of them, and very dubious that I had anywhere near the wherewithal to lay them.

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What he didn’t know was that I had ordered a ‘kneekicker’ from Amazon for £27 [put it on the carpet, kick the pad with your knee, it the grips on the kicker and pushes the carpet away from you] and I had watched a YouTube video on how to lay a carpet.

We had taken up the h/s/l carpet (leaving spiky things and underlay in place) so we could sand down the gloss and repaint the woodwork. We had done the walls a couple of weeks ago. This did leave us with the obstacle course of getting up and down the stairs without puncturing our toes (on the way up) and heels (on the way down). I’ve only got a couple of scars. After the paint had dried I decided to replace the landing carpet, which is shaped like the net of a cube (a cube that has been dismantled, but is still joined at some egdes). In my book that easily makes it the most difficult to lay.

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the net of a cube..

I put the new carpet on the floor and laid the old one on top of it. I then drew round the outside with a felt tip and cut off the spare bits with a Stanley knife. Ten minutes later it was down. I used a metal wedge and a hammer to knock in the edges, and secure it into those funny metal things that join two rooms (there must be a name for those). It was done. And, even if I say so myself, it looks like carpet … and it feels like carpet! Tomorrow I have to lay the stairs, but that does look like a more straightforward job, and next week we’ll do the two bedrooms. A slightly bigger problem, I hear you say. But, hang on, the YouTube vid I watched showed an Aussie fitting out a room as big as out house, ergo, I have done the course and am set to carpet any room you like.

[For the record, Jen’s on Monday and again today. Carpet laying for the rest of the week. And Mary’s and London for Saturday/Sunday. It’s all go….]

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, I don’t know about you lot, but we’ve had a super weekend. On Friday night we went out for supper with Annie and Al. He and I joined the same battalion on the same day in 1982. Since then we have been best of friends, our families holidaying together, kids went to the same schools and generally been best of mates. He stayed the course in the Army and was v senior before leaving to work in the Middle East – where he is now. He doesn’t come back that often, so we grab him (and Annie) when we can. It was funny. We’re all approaching 60 (60!? Whatever next? Ehh … nb. C’s a little older than us.) and inevitably we spent most of our time talking about our ailments and the state of politics. We could have pre-written the script. Fab to see them, though.

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Dartmoor doing its thing

Yesterday we drove down to darkest Devon (not a bad alliteration) and spent the weekend with James and Sheron. James and I went to the Army sixth form college together (that was some time ago now) and, after a bit, he joined the same battalion as well. Anyhow, they have a Grade 2 Devon long house which they have extended (James does the work himself, clever and industrious chap) and renovated. Across a little used country lane, he’s put up a bar and summer house. What with Mrs Sun being out and bragging about how hot she can make it even in late October (‘n all), we had supper outside, and then came in and watch Killing Eve, which is still better than The Bodyguard.

And with the weather still forgetting its place, today we drove to Dartmoor (20 minutes) and walked in Spring sunshine over the moor for a couple of hours. It was fab, and no sign of any werewolves. We had a drink at a pub and headed back to their place for some homemade parsnip and roasted onion soup (thanks Sheron). How lucky are we?

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Indeed, how lucky are we. Leaving aside the life of Riley we lead, with our extended travels, my interesting work, which isn’t really doesn’t seem like work, Doris, our two-up, two-down in Bradley Stoke, our health (which, so far, is still holding), our kids, etc, etc … we then go and have some fab friends, and A+A and J+S are just two of a number we would call close.

Hang on a second whilst I count our lucky stars.

Feeling great and moving on …

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I have finished Chapter 13, which puts me back on schedule for a chapter a week. At this rate I would hope to have book 5 finished by the end of November – which would be great timing.

And, this week there are two aims. First to get back to Jen’s and produce some top-quality leads and collars. And, second, to fit the hall, stairs, landing carpet and do the gloss. That’s the ambition, noting that I have never fitted a carpet in my life before. But I have watched a YouTube video.

What could possibly go wrong?

Sorry, we can only take your money

We decided to reconcile our telephone accounts. We don’t have a landline (does anyone?), we a mobile each, we still pay for Jen’s mobile and we have a mifi (mobile data using a tiny box – we pay £13 a month and get 5GB of data to which we can tether anything). The mifi was helpful when we spent a lot of time abroad because Three allowed you to use 2 month’s worth of data abroad – for free. Then the whole EU market opened up and we could all use our monthly allowances … so it became superfluous to requirement. [After Brexit, who knows what will happen to that facility. I guess we will end up with roaming charges again, unless the companies can sort something out. That’s an altogether different gripe, but at least the Brexitiers will be happy with their mauve passports. Oh, and an NHS without any nurses.]

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a framed oil painting of C, framed by this morning’s sun

I popped into the Three store yesterday where I set up the contract. ‘Sorry – we only take your money here; as a result we can’t cancel your contract, You’ll have to phone someone, press lots of buttons (during which time you’ll get lost amongst the options), wait endlessly for a person to answer, during which we will bombard you with music that keeps distorting (why does that happen?), and then that person from a foreign land will not necessarily be understandable, so you’ll give up and we’ll keep taking your money.’

How does that work? You know. There, in a communications shop with ultra-broad broadband. More phones than a … phone shop. And a warm-blooded person to talk to. How? Please tell me.

Hurrumph. Actually, in the end Three redeemed themselves. I quickly got onto a live chat on my phone, a nice man was quick to type his responses, and we cancelled the contract – without a month’s wait – within 10 minutes. I wish I’d done that to begin with. It would have saved me scrambling around the floor of the Three store looking for my ears which had blown off in a mad moment of rage/desperation.

I also managed to change my Virgin plan. I was originally on £18 all-inclusive … which sounded good until you breached 5GB of data. At that point ‘normal usage’ was exceeded and the speed of my data was cut, so it was pretty hopeless. In the meantime Virgin had increased the plan costs to £23 a month (SIM only). Anyhow, after a quick phone conversation they’ve put me on a £10 a month plan for which I get 6 GB data, 2400 minutes and as many texts as I can eat. That should do.

An overall saving of £26 a month … hurrah for that.

Monday and yesterday was spent at Jen’s. There’s been a lot to do and she is tough (but good) to work for. I am making most of the leads and collars. C has been making poppies and bandanas. C’s work is pretty much done, but my list continues to be added to – which is good. For Jen and I it’s about quality. And she’s, rightly, a stickler. And has no problems telling me … which is a neat trick. She hums and ahhs, and we then have a discussion and I end up remaking the lead/collar. She’s right, BTW. I just need to do better. Anyhow, we are still stacking up orders and the stuff continues to be stuck in envelopes and posted. Business is, as they say, good. Oh, and a pet shop in Scotland wants to stock Jen’s stuff. And they intend to buy the stock outright (less 15%) and sell it on; they’ve seen some samples and liked what they’ve seen. So that’s more good news. We will need to think about employing people (gig economy stuff) in the near future.

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taking any opportunity to write

Book 5 is coming along. I missed my deadline of completing chapter 12 by the end of Sunday – I finished it yesterday and started chapter 13. I’m finding ‘finding time’ really tough, but until I finish it it’s not going to go away. So last night I lay in bed tapping on the keyboard. I must take any chance I get, and hope that it all irons out in the edit. We’ll see.

We’re not back at Jen’s until Monday. Today and tomorrow I shall try and complete chapter 13. C is making the last of the curtains. We need to get on with a couple of other jobs, like replacing the stairs carper, sorting out the lawn and I need to change the oil on both the car and Doris – which I intend to do myself. I’ve done it before, a long time ago, so I should be able to manage it. We’ll see.

Oh, and we booked an all-inclusive (never done that before) week in Tunisia for November. Our target was £500 (+) for both of us and ended up with Tui for £710, including baggage and flight transfers. We then checked the hotel details on Trip Advisor and the first two could not have been worse. But there were some good ones. Our expectations are low, but at least it will be hotter than here, by the beach, with some interesting things to see … and we will not have to lift a hand to do anything for a week. Should be fab. We’ll let you know!

Goodness it’s warm

I don’t know about you but I don’t remember October being a particularly pleasant month? You know, it’s normally bleak, wndy, rain and all. Sat here at M&D’s after a week of summer weather with Mrs Sun doing her thing, you would have struggled to guess which month we were in. I know Wales (and our house) has just seen apocalyptic rain (and we have friends who live in Majorca – they’re ok after the floods – and I’m following a blog of a couple in a MoHo in Portugal who were hit by the remnants of Storm Whoever yesterday), but we, the Ladleys, have unusually been in the ‘calm’. Before the storm, which might get here today. Which is not a problem as we’re heading back to Bristol where it’s calmer..

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is this normal?

That neatly brings me on to the latest Climate Change report which says we’ll easily breach 1.5 degrees increase in temp by 2030. As a result of which hundreds of thousands of us will be peril. Now I intend to be alive in 2030. Indeed, I’m looking forward to seeing in 2040. That means that Climate Change is not something that is only going to impact upon our children’s children – which, in itself, was always a damn good reason to be doing something. It’s actually going to impact on us. And yet we are not doing a great deal about it.

This is an emergency. Like a real emergency. If someone said we were going to be hit by a life-altering asteroid in 2030 which would devastate parts of the planet, submerge huge swathes of land, bring on weather the like of which we don’t understand, creates droughts and rising sea levels causing mass refugee exodus which would put the recent European influx in dark shade and … and it’s a big and … this is happening in your backyard (the Thames Barrier wouldn’t hold back the floods and Great Yarmouth will be a tourist destination for scuba divers), you’d think that now might be the time to invest in an asteroid destroyer. Or even two, just in case the first one breaks.

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we’ve blagged my mum’s sewing machine for Cubbly’s

But that’s going to cost you $4.2 trillion. Duh! So? Get out there governments and spend the money. Remember that last time you told me the asteroid wasn’t coming until 2050, by which time we’d have colonised Mars and the rest of us would be living outside our bodies in a VR world – so sod the asteroid? In any case, I’d be long gone and the Millenials could sort it out.

Now you tell me you’ve misjudged your timeline by 20 years … what are you waiting for? Where’s my electric car? Why aren’t you banning fossil fuels, like, now? Why aren’t you turning off the lights at 10pm and telling us all to go to bed? Why aren’t you turning the Sahara Desert into a massive solar farm?

Why aren’t you doing something?

Actually that last question was focused on you … and me. Because we could easily cut our own electricity usage by half. And our water usage. I don’t mean to brag but since we’ve moved into our small house we’ve managed to drop the cost of our monthly fuel and light bill from £73 a month to £56 a month. And we are £170 in credit. We’ve not checked the water, but we’re pretty convinced that that’s the same. We do not flush the loos until we need to. We shower (OK, occasionally we have a bath, but we share the water) and we never leave water running. C uses the washing machine sparingly and has only used the integral tumble dryer once. All our light bulbs are LED, we turn everything off at night and C has just finished lining every curtain so the house should retain its heat overnight. We recycle everything we can. And we try to drive carefully, although we do drive far too much … we have a lot of people to see who live a long way away.

I would argue that we’re not yet close to cutting our energy usage by 50%, but we’ve made a dent in it. If everyone did the same, not only would you save some cash you might also help the rest of the world.

It’s just a thought.   

(He says all of this whilst planning a week’s break to Tunisia, which will involve flying there … I guess the only answer to that is that the seats would otherwise have been empty. I know, I know, we must try harder still.)