Christmas, the New Year and my birthday are all over, the decorations are all back in their boxes and UK Covid restrictions are being relaxed quite substantially. The January weather is pretty dreary and even the Russians are up to their old tricks on the Ukrainian border. My US work visa has come though and I am cautiously beginning to explore the idea of a temporary return to the Naval War College at Newport round about the end of February. Putting this all together makes it seem as though the world, or at least my angle on it, is reverting to some kind of normal if with some striking contemporary characteristics.
It's certainly been an unusually busy few weeks, for me as well as for many other people, hence the absence of transmissions. As far as the festive season was concerned we all had to navigate our way around Covid regulations, which were complicated by the fact that one of our number contracted the bug most inopportunely. I spent Christmas Eve and day with Simon Ruth and Violet. The arrival of the Patrick clan ensured that it wasn't too quiet ! On Boxing day we all reconvened, in a careful socially distanced way, bearing in mind Beth's situation, at Burgess Hill. Some of our number sat outside in the decidedly fresh air, well wrapped up and protected by a huge sunshade from the worst of the elements. Conversation drink and food passed to and fro through the big open French doors. It was slightly bizarre, but certainly a Boxing day to remember.
Sadly, the mega-New Year gathering of virtually the whole of the clan at Wansdyke, which would have been a truly historic occasion given everyone else's necessary distractions, had to be cancelled at the last minute. Instead, some of us resolved on an entirely open-air meet in the South Downs. First to South Harting Down for a demanding walk across the hills to Beacon Hill, the last bit of which is really steep. One 'scales' it, I think Lots of other people had the same idea though only a minority made it as far as we did, so we departed for a smaller and hopefully quiet spot in the heart of what I call Till country (with some justice I might add !) on Stoughton Down for an outside picnic lunch and present exchange. One lady was so charmed by the sight she offered to take a photo of the occasion. After this we all went our separate ways.
But our appetite for collective conviviality resulted in a third gathering this time at Wansdyke for my official birthday, which was also a success and gave me all the excuse and justification I needed for keeping all the traditional Christmas stuff up until the middle of January. Interestingly, on that point, our local vicar in the parish mag recommended keeping them up until February 2nd if only to lighten up the dark days of deep winter.
For me in this giddy cavalcade of social excess even that wasn't the end, as I also was able to gather for a delightful occasion in Shaftesbury with Tony, Maya and Melanie where we were introduced to the delights of the swiss 'raclette' This is a contraption which sits in the middle of the table and heats up little platters of various exotic swiss cheeses, whereupon one pours the result over hot new potatoes, garnished with an endless supply of nibbles supplied by one's hostess. Working for one's meal makes one notice and enjoy it more. It was terrific and the weather was kind. And then I had the opportunity to play host for some old friends from, Dartmouth days who over-nighted on their way to their London flat. Far too scared to cater for them myself (except for a formal candlelit breakfast !), we repaired to the King's Arms for supper - my first visit there for a very long time.
Swapping experiences, comparing symptoms and talking about the old days. Lovely stuff. They also brought me the last of the old 16th Century linen-fold panelling which I am now to be challenged by restoring and installing it ! ( Sadly this is well above my competence level.) Nor is this social round yet finished, as I have a Burn's night whisky-tasting over the road ahead of me still.
I've had other visitors too, generally less welcome. The first was a weird infestation of large black and fortunately dozy flies. I must have either ushered out of the house or otherwise disposed of (with my electronic fly-swatting tennis racket thing accurately labelled as 'The Executioner') at least a couple of hundred of the horrid things. I couldn't for the life of me work out where they were coming from as they seemed to appear in the upstairs rooms even with the doors all shut. Dealing with them was addictive. The Executioner did its work with a very satisfying crack and flash, but not always lethally. I remember being introduced to this kind of device by an army friend who was the UK defence attache in India when we were staying with him. He was a real enthusiast, and had plenty of local material to work on.
The other invasion was even more unexpected. It was a dark and stormy night and the rain was battering against the windows of my study as I was finishing off some very necessary and last minute prep for a Zoom session the following morning. At firsts vaguely and then with gradually increasing attention, I became aware of some mooing which sounded really quite loud. Living effectively on a farmstead such country noises are not in themselves unusual, but this really did sound awfully close. I peered out and was amazed to see a deluge of headlights from stopped cars all over the place, the flashing blue light of a police car parked in the drive and the moving silhouettes, backwards and forwards, of cows against the headlights. To me, they seemed outside in the road, so having things to do, the matter evidently being in hand and the rain crashing down I left them to it. Later, with a torch, I went out to investigate and was amazed and frankly appalled to see their calling cards, their cowpats, all over the drive. the following morning the true extent of the invasion was apparent. Cowpats and deep hoofmarks all over the front lawn and some even penetrated through to the edge of the yew gravel garden knocking over brickwork in the process and teetering on the edge of a three foot drop down to the living room patio. If they had jumped down, in the darkness and their panic, they might have joined me in the house ! A close call.
Escapees from another village apparently. I did wonder at one stage if they were the big girls I encountered up on the hill a few weeks ago, wreaking their vengeance but apparently not. However on our family walk up there over the birthday weekend we did come across six roe deer - at some distance of course but probably including the two which had made such a mess of my laurels last month. Pretty things though. This was also the place where Martha did some balletic exercises on top of the chalk pit.
So I go into 2022 exhausted but refreshed. The academic load doesn't look too bad so far but I have a lot of things around the house to get done before I depart these shores, assuming I do. So what's new, you might ask ? Back to normal indeed.
