Saturday Trials

Saturday, a time to take it easy...

Contents Insurance time.  I have found the Post Office one is cheap, so I got that.  'Admiral,' wished to renew last years, which is dearer.  I decided not to renew.

So yesterday I tried to log in to the website.  

Nothing happened, I was not recognised.

Yet the renewal form came through OK?

This means calling them, which is always a challenge with such folk.

I called, "Sorry, all our operators are busy, there could be a long wait."

I hung up.

I tried later, same story.

This morning, being keen, as if, I tried again, and again, and again, and again.

I tried the website again, played around but got nowhere.

One page offered one of those remote digital answering people.

I asked my question.

"I do not understand your question, do you mean one of these choices?"

I chose.

"Please phone to one of our operators."

Above this beast was a sign saying 'Please don't call unless you need to....'

I went on to Twitter and ranted.

A couple of hours later I took a walk.

I returned, worn out, gasping, and felt it right to call again.

This time the voice said, "Thank you for calling etc...many of our colleagues are working from home, so the sound may be somewhat distorted."  
The voice, always a woman you note, told me a colleague would be with me in a minute.  

A minute!

Music played, not 'Greensleeves,' but something soothing.

An advert for Motor insurance from what I think was a different voice came on.

Music.

This minute is not the 60 second minute developed around 5000 BC by the Sumerians I thought.  This minute is one of those beloved by bus companies and train operators that promise action in 60 seconds but take at least three times that time.

The motor advert again.

Music.

The 'Your call is important to us,' (because we want your cash) comment came on.

Music.

Eventually the number rang.

An American accent (that's what I call working from home!) from a friendly young lady.

I explained, she tried to fend me off onto other insurances, I pleaded poverty, she relented, and ended the renewal.  

Call ended.  All over.  Another long time stress comes to an end.  

I am not sure what is more tiring, walking or calling a service centre? 

Now a couple of more favourable calls to make, sadly emails will not do on this.  My phone bill will be higher than the gas at this rate!  Bah!

Oh, and after all this Admiral responded on Twitter!

Nothing Day

 

Nothing to say as nothing happened again.

Not even an online argument on Twitter, no bad emails, nothing on facebook to fall out over, and only the usual lies on the daily 'free' press.  Interestingly, while they are crying about the Deputy Whip who resigned, for the second time, after sex assaults on other Tories, yet they have avoided mentioning Boris being caught having a Blow Job while Foreign Secretary, and that from his girl Carrie while his wife was still his (second) wife.  Funnily enough that has not appeared anywhere, except on social media.

Perverts, deviants, liars, tax dodgers, and Rees-Mogg & Nadine Dorries, what else can go wrong for Boris?

Ads I said, nothing happened...

A Walk in the Park

A couple of weeks ago I did far too much walking than I needed.  Not only that, it was all in a couple of days squeezed together.  This was not wise.  It has taken almost two weeks of remaining indoors to recover.  So today, I wandered out across the park, trying to remember the way.  A walk around town, and back home to sit and stiffen up once again.  Stopping, when old, is not a good idea.  When you start up again it all goes wrong.

I sat here on this old tree seat as I don't think I have ever done this before.  The tree was chopped down along with some others that had come to the end of their life.  One or two may have had problems, but all were replaced with many trees being planted to replace the lost ones.  

The park used to form the gardens of the Big Hoose, who's owner left it, the gardens and the Big Hoose, to the High School for use.  The trees planted way back in the early 1800's were a very wide selection.  Whoever designed the gardens knew what he was doing and what he needed to plant.  Sadly the ones who planted the trees would never see them in full bloom.  Similarly the ones planted in the past few years I will never see reach the heights.  The Big Hoose itself is now a handful of expensive flats, sorry, apartments, with added houses at ludicrous prices. 

Tennis is rumbling on.  I would rather look at the gray clouds above, they are more interesting.

Busy Afternoon

Spot of rain this afternoon.

I spent some time sorting out items I downloaded from 'Find my Past,' the people given the 1921 census to offer to the world.  Cynic that I am, I almost wrote '..given the 1921 census to rip off as many people as possible and feed the cash to the grasping government.'  But I didn't.  

Once you have paid the fee to join, you then seek out the person/street you wish and then, when offered, splash out £2:50 just for a look at the record.  A copy can be obtained if you pay £3:50!  No chance.  My copy cannot be 'cut & pasted,' it can be downloaded only by use of the 'screenshot' on my laptop, but it does not come out well.  Even then it cannot be 'cut & pasted,' so making use of the info you paid for is not easy.  All this to grab cash.

So after a struggle, and I mean struggle, I printed things off, have got the info I want, and spent some time sorting it out.   By 'sorting it out' I mean 'getting confused.'  I have worked out who is where on the street I am looking at for 1921, however, the 1911 census (obtained for no cost other than the registration fee) is a wee bit harder as almost no-one has a number, some have names on the house, and according to my guess two families live in the one house.  I later realised that he lived at No 21 until she moved out of No 9, but this is not clear on the forms.  Tsk!  Census people are very confusing.  

This town was recorded well, except the streets do not always run on one page, some are covered in several places, and the copperplate writing so loved by Victorians (my father was writing like this well into the 1960's) is not that easy to read, especially with an ink pen that has a wide nib.

How interesting however, it is to look at the information and try to assemble in the mind the people of the day, the attitudes, the outlook, and wonder how they saw themselves and their future.  Looking back gives one idea of their lives, but for them it must have been strange to look forward into an unknown future.  We do not look forward like that these days.

Trinity 2 2022

Saturday Info Struggle

 

Saturday morning, well lunchtime, and no real news to be seen.

Riots in the USA because they are stopping women killing babies, for some reason this is not acceptable.  The same people that demand help for the kids they have are happy to end the life of one they do not want, how cruel.  The same court has however, allowed New Yorkers to carry concealed guns.  A rule worked out by going back to the revolutionary days in the early US states and even taking into consideration the law as it was in the UK during Cromwell's civil war.  Quite what this has to do with the US, and quite how this allows them to carry guns in a city where life already appears cheap is not made clear.

Boris continues to lie while hiding in Rwanda, maybe they will keep him?  Something called 'Glastonbury' attracts lots of bad musicians and a desperate for attention ageing Paul McCartney.  The papers insist on filling space, in among the celebrities, of various diseases you might have if you stand, sit or walk in certain fashions.  A spot on your arm may indicate your foot will fall off, or a pain in the ankle mean you have TB.  I am not sure I trust the medical advice given by the media.  Also seeking attention is the girl on the make Kate, now Princess or Duchess or whatever, making use of the armed services for another PR stunt.  Intense, they say, speculation grows as to why Rupert Murdoch (91) is divorcing his latest woman, one Jerry Hall (60), though her smoking habit is being blamed.  So the blue pills do not work?  Boris Johnson wishes to put 'Daily Mail' editor, now 'editor in chief,' whatever that means, Paul Dacre (74) into the House of Lords, something Dacre has chased before.  If memory serves me well Thatcher, Major, Blair, Brown, Cameron and May all refused him this, and not just because the press ought not to be connected with government.  Boris is trying to push this through however. 

The 'Daily Express' online is no longer allowing any comments on stories, far too many people were pointing out how incorrect they were, so comments are banned!  Censorship, surely not?  The 'Daily Mail' continues to allow comments, at least the ones they print.  Many I note disagree with the slant put on stories.  A worrying trend for Mr Dacre and his lackeys.  

Otherwise nothing else has happened, certainly nothing here.  Not counting wobbling to Sainsburys early, then wobbling back as I forgot bread the very thing I went for!  I am not keen on this walking at the moment so was not pleased with  the holes in my brain.  Indoors I spent time upsetting child killers in the USA and some here also, mocking an occasional middle class socialist "What work with your hands have you ever done?" And sought out the early news of the football team returning to training in sunny Spain.  Only a month before that begins again.

Warning

 

 

Fascist coup?  Nobody has noticed.  

The comparison above may not be entirely accurate, much is missing, but this indicates the way Boris and his cronies have taken over the nation with almost nobody realising or caring enough to do something about it.

Under Steve Bannon's tutelage Boris has used nazi tactics to remove opposition from himself and his government.  Again, nobody appears to have noticed.

Adolf Hitler did not bother with following the niceties of parliament, he abolished it.  An 'Emergency Decree,' after the Reichstag fire, enabled him to take complete control.  He never lost this until 1945.  I await the fire that will lead to a similar decree leaving Boris as King.  This will be very soon I suggest.  In the meantime the 'Bill of Rights' will remove all our 'rights.'  So worried are the Law Society they have taken this to the UN!

 

This book, mentioned recently, covers visitors to Germany during the 20s and 30s.  Few realised what was happening around them.  Some were in agreement with what they did discover, a few opposed what they saw.  For the most part visitors just enjoyed the country, as the people appeared happy, content, and economically vibrant.  Underneath the spine was chilling and broken.  

The UK has not reached that point as yet.  The nazi philosophy is not among us, just the control.  However, we still have people who stand up for the workers and those who are suffering.  Opposed by the press barons and other billionaires, they do not succeed and soon laws will be passed to limit them.  

Adolf surrounded himself with people on the make.  These he paired off against one another by having two of everything.  Two foreign offices, two Home offices, two army commands etc.  Boris does the same but differently.  He needs only one not two departments, this he places under one desperate for the job, one who has no talent, limited experience and is loyal to Boris.  These act as cannon fodder to protect his inability to do the job, allowing them to take the flak while he runs for cover.  

This one, now transport secretary, has had four names during his time as MP.  The present one appears to be his real one, the others were scams with which he enriched himself and ran away, Boris style.

Martin Niemoller  died in a prison cell.  Unless the people begin to stand up and demand their liberties back once again they will all be lost, the election Jerrymanded to suit Boris, and freedom will be lost forever.  There is limited political opposition, so the people must do this themselves.

However, few speak out.  Those who do are ignored by the Boris media, the vast majority of the population unknowing, not interested, hoping any trouble will just 'go away.'  A wee bit like many Germans in 1930s Naziland. 

Tuesday Grumbles

It has been an exhausting few days.  Last week I did too much for my unfit, old frame.  Walking about on Sunday did not help.  So I have done nothing of interest again.  It has to be said, that is now my normal existence.  This morning I reached Sainsburys early but found I was tired, very tired.  I struggled back home and drank coffee and ate whatever I could find, irrespective of what it did to the diet.  This took all day to wear off, and is still hanging around yet. 

Actually, I have done other things, mostly on the laptop.  I have managed to upset gays in the USA, Brexiteers in the UK, and my downstairs neighbour, though that was by just existing.  

So, the time has not been wasted then?

Boris has managed to cause a railway strike, by not allowing his government to take part in talks, also reducing subsidy payments by half, demanding 2500 job cuts, including ticket sellers, replacing them with computerised online tickets (which many cannot use) and refusing wage increases.  He now blames 'militant unions' for troubling the nation.  

'Train drivers are overpaid' some claim, ignoring the fact that train drivers are not involved in the strike.  The 'Daily Mail' reader is easily led.

Postmen are next, Criminal Barristers, those who defend you that is, are also striking this week, most others are soon to follow.  Nurses, dustmen and a wide variety of people now suffering from the cost of living increase are demanding more.  This government of billionaires and millionaires is ignoring them.

On Sunday we remembered it was 'Fathers Day,' another of those imported US celebrations that did not exist when I was young.  Father's, now almost outlawed by Harriet Harmen and her feminist rabble, are given a token day today, but only if they are 'new fathers,' a term which implies all fathers beforehand were bad.  This of course is rubbish, many were bad, just as many were very good, however, books and magazines, newspapers and TV stories fill with tales of the bad ones. For 40 years Harriet and her harridans have been telling us men are bad, many now accept this as true, and this includes young men.

Fathers are important, we are created male and female, no matter what todays fashionable lies tell us.  One male, one female, married for life, are best for children, male and female.  We are all aware of the many failures, we often read about them.  We never appear to read about failed one parent (usually female) families which fail, we never appear to read about gay marriages which fail, couples living together for a while which fail, we obtain only half a story, and children suffer.

One police Inspector indicated that most young black kids in trouble had no fathers, this was quietly pushed aside, as this was not a popular, though true, observation.  I have known black men who have not looked after their children, but many more who have been very good fathers indeed.  Society hears only what it wishes to hear, not what is best. 

I notice Microsoft have been at it again.  While everything was going along reasonably they have amended this and that, especially the 'Photos' and not informed us as to how to change things again.

This did not take long to work out, however, once again it appears 14 year olds are the ones coming up with ideas.  Why do tech companies amend things so often?  Apart from amending mistakes, keeping out bugs, and finding new ways to make use of your data to enrich themselves, which after all, is what it is all about, why do they do this?  Last night, on the new, cheap, spare laptop, which uses the totally useless Win 11, I struggled with normal everyday things.  Sure, I was a bit tired, but the cursor requires fixing, the layout is poor, and nothing works properly, unless they say so.  Firefox etc, cannot be used unless you leave their 'S' security, whatever that means, and all I know is that they are making even more from my useless data than I am making for myself.  

Anyone got a spare 13 year old who can help here?

This brute does not help either!

The other day I was sorting things out and found a man in Amsterdam talking to me!  That cost text money to fix.  Every time I touch it something disappears or even worse, appears!  Now I find it 'topping up' with £20 three times within a week, whereas before it took weeks to do this.  

I went onto the website, struggled to get on, struggled to find the costs, struggled to find what I had paid, and struggled to understand why I am now paying so much more when it all looks the same?  A few more days research here before I dump GiffGaff and find another.  

Saturday Cogitation

I have been cogitating this week on Tuesday's doings.  

On Tuesday, as you know, I ventured out to the Post Office.  This small sub-post office has been there for some time and I have always liked the way the young lady smiles at me each time.  I have yet to decide whether she is grinning or being friendly.  The PO part must be what keeps this shop going.  Just 50 yards away a 'Tesco Express' was opened just in time for Lockdown.  That must have taken a large chunk from the profits here, but they continue to work all the hours of the day.  I asked the man at the shop counter if he ever takes a day off?  I am not sure he does.  I saw the girl in Sainsburys car park once, I think this was the only time she was allowed out.  Asians, possibly Hindu, they never appear to close.  People like this are being turned away for political points by the vile Priti Patel.  I suggest sending her to Rwanda and employing the shop people in the Home Office!

 

I ventured to the church where a coffee morning was taking place.  It is on this that I have been cogitating.  I was offered tea and while accepting found it difficult to allow the woman in charge to go and make one for me.  I wished to do this myself, partly to avoid making work for her, when had been busy for an hour already with a dozen others, and also because I did not like someone acting like a servant to me!   Had I been in a shop or café I would not have noticed, but having someone I knew doing this appeared suddenly to be wrong.  

I remember a TV programme from around 35 years ago.  This featured a plane load of passengers on a 'Round the World Trip,' and paying £20,000 a go for the pleasure.  I would not like to guess how much the cost would be today.  India, Egypt, Easter Island and other places were visited, with guides, to most people's pleasure.  However, to moments in India remain in my mind.  One was the complaint from passengers unknown, that they were 'seeing a lot of poverty in India,' and they 'did not wish to see poverty.'  Hmmm...  Other passengers shared the same opinion as you.  

The second memory was of these people, on horse drawn carts, being taken two by two, into a grand house for dinner that evening.  As they drove in around the entrance along the path people stood throwing flower petals over them, as if the passengers were famous individuals.  At the time I cringed at this, I felt sure that had I been there I would have got out and thrown petals across those paid a few rupees to welcome the great, rich, visitors.  The idea of serfs welcoming you with bowing and flower throwing may suit some, I find it grates somewhat.  The complaining types will have enjoyed that bit.

I made my excuses and made my second cup of tea myself, though I did find the kitchen full of women getting in one another's way, and forced myself in among them. Later, I sneaked out, washing my cup by myself, partly to avoid overworking the ladies, partly to avoid using them as serfs.  I don't think they noticed, so I wandered of home.  No serfs here, that is why nothing gets done...

    

Working Friday in the Heat

A touch of sunshine today, reaching about 90%F  by middle of day.

I headed for Sainsburys around 8am and the heat was interesting, around 70ish already. Slovenly I wandered back, considered crossing the park for a touch of sun but thought better of it.

Having thought better of that I then went mad and began weeding the front.  Now you may think that's not impressive but I can tell you my back considered it an act of extreme folly.  I cut down what I could, bagged up the scraps and within thirty minutes I was expecting the heart attack.  At one time I did this, and more with no problem, now I was finished very quickly.  I expect |I will pay for this tomorrow.

At the same time as I worked I put on the washing.  By this evening it had all been dried and most of it put away.  That has never happened before!

Boris the clown was supposed to meet MPs 'up north' today.  As always the coward ran away.  There being a shortage of fridges at the moment, the heat has seen them filled with people seeking ice cream, he does his usual trick and runs for a photo op in Ukraine.  

Now President Zelensky is no fool.  He knows why Boris is there and has Boris on a piece of string.  As the bumbling Bunter arrives a list of requirements is produced.  Boris says "Yes sir!" and flies back home, losing the list somewhere inside a bottle under a seat.  Northern Tories are not amused.  He has many enemies, now he has many more.  Each day his hold on reality gets less and soon it appears he will be falling, despite the failed confidence vote recently.

Forced to Purchase Books...

 

It's that woman's fault! 

I was trying not to, but she made me do it.

Today I sat quietly, attempting not to pay out money for anything.

This is good, I like it.

I avoided the usual sites, I kept away from the teasing adverts, I ignored Etsy and E-Bay, and indeed all the online charity shops.  I ignored the book shops as well, especially them.  One look and I am paying out money.

Then she tells me she has found a book on Amazon about  Rome, which sounded tantalising.

I of course would not look into Amazon to find such a book.  

This was a no-go area for me today.

I went to Amazon, just to look and see if the book was any good.

Sadly it was, it was also expensive and I dutifully looked away and avoided spending cash.

Then I noticed the 'Kindle' version was only £2:20 so I purchased that.  

Unwillingly you hear.

However, as I was there I glanced, a mere glance, at the wish list I established some time ago.

I found I had forgotten many of the books there, some indeed since obtained on the cheap.

However, accidentally, I managed to notice that one was available for only just on £3. 

Add £2:80 P&P and I was a way.  

Blast!  

I have done it again!

I must never look into bookshops!

It's all that woman's fault...

Everydaypeoplecartoons

Wednesday Slob

This photograph, as you will realise, was taken on slides way back in the early 90s.  I recently found a way to transfer them, with difficulty, to the laptop.  This was great fun, if you like stress.  Now looking at the view, apart from the road obviously, I am wishing I could go up there again for a wander.  This bit itself is a wee boring area, but Glencoe is round the bend and the view there is quite good, in Spring and Summer.  

Wandering anywhere is off at the moment.  Walking to church Sunday, walking to supermarkets Monday, then to the vicars induction, and home in the evening.  Tuesday I went down to the Post Office to post a parcel, and carried on to the church for coffee time.  This morning I was back in supermarket territory, milk does not last long in this heat!  

My knees are not happy with me, they keep creaking and demanding I lie on my bed and snooze.  I must say I have regretfully obeyed them, and intend to do the same tomorrow.  It may be tropical heat outside but I remain indoors, unwilling to move.  Mind you, outside it is hot, inside there is a draught.  It never ends, and while people strip off in the park I wear my jacket!   It was ever thus here, facing the cold north.

Nicola tells us she is preparing for Indy 2 once again.  I will believe this when real evidence is forthcoming.  I fear this is a mere sop to the demands being made by the people.  Nothing will come of this I say.  

Meanwhile Boris is hiding behind Priti Patel, she is attempting to send asylum seekers to Africa, all to appease the 'Daily Mail' reader.  This too is a false front.  They know it will not happen, but votes will come their way, division increase, and they keep power.  I consider a rope too good for of them.

A Night Out

Monday night was an excuse to go outside. on a Spring evening.  What a delight to walk across the park, sun shining, birds singing, knees creaking, while heading for the local High Church version of Anglicanism.  Because the Church of England no longer has money to pay for a proper vicar our man now has responsibility for both our church and this one.  Monday night was the official engagement as it were of that position.  

Cynics may say that the lack of vicars has to do with the lack of cash to pay them, so many now are female, tsk!  And cynics may say if we had less people higher up we could pay for people at the front line?  Those high up are often lost in a world of their own and while contribution fail a better understanding of need arises.  Far too many churches are being lumped together under one man.  Attendance dwindles, this happens, but the answer is always to be bible based, however, it is clear the churches which refuse this are the ones losing ground.  

Our recent curate was happily inducted into his role as vicar a while ago, during Covid.  Today he runs five churches, though he does have a very good support system there.  

Our man here will have a very good support system at our church, quite what the other will provide I am not sure.  Too many elderly ladies who do fine things, but that is not church leading.  Too many aged men, not all able or willing to lead, and too few young people incoming.  

However, the evening was a success, all were happy, everything looks good.  There again, at such gatherings not only does the Bishop, the Archdeacon and lots of spare vicars appear but afterwards there is lots of good nosh.  The women were busy providing, sandwiches, cakes, and our side with an Asian vicar, provided lots of Asian foodstuffs.  I put on weight last night.  All in a good cause.

At the weekend this 1620 house caught fire.  Once at least four doors were seen at the front, homes to agricultural labourers working the fields around, now, one long house, or at least it was one long house.

I do not know what caused the blaze, they are still debating this, but the entire thatched roof has gone, the contents upstairs destroyed, and downstairs probably flooded.  At least the people got out but consider their next steps.  I hope they have a place to abide now.

Nothing Day

 

 

 

Nothing much has happened except the usual business of life.  Shopping, ironing, grumbling and picking fights on Twitter mostly.  The watching of three football matches a day has taken up much time, I think this ends tomorrow.  

Today I made stew.  A woman who works in catering, tells me this reminds her of those 'Meals on Wheels.'  

"Why?" I foolishly asked.  

"Because this is 'Muck on a Truck!" she said lovingly.  

As I sit here ruminating I am beginning to consider she had a point.

Tonight I am encouraged to wander over to the High Church for Richards induction there.  Our vicar now runs two churches, as the CoE cannot find, nor pay for, another vicar.  This has led to squabbles from some (well, me) as this church is 'High Church,' all robes, parades, candles and tosh, while St P. is 'Low Church, evangelical, bible based, sensible.  They do have their strange ways however, but not like this one.  He is happy, he likes the dressing up, but I am considering standing outside waving a 'No Popery' placard.  I suspect however, most of this lot would not understand what this meant.

Anyway, after my stew I may remain indoors...

No news appears, Boris is lying to us just the same however, this time it is the Northern Ireland protocol and sending people to Africa.  People trafficking, a UK business!  Royals hating one another, Andrew being arrogant, Willie stubborn.  

Nothing new there...

Steam Saturday

 

Continuing my adventurous life, I have been sitting here watching the 'West Somerset Railway in action.  This is partly because I had so many emails to deal with, both of them now attended to, and the lack of energy to take me further than the shops.

This lack of energy has nothing whatsoever to do with the football that fills the screen each night. At five in the evening sometimes, then at seven or seven forty five, but always something of great importance dances upon the screen.  Now I accept that watching highly paid individuals miss open goals, deny blatant fouls, and scream abuse at officials is a terribly sad thing, however, it has been worth it so far.  Tonight there may indeed be blessings galore shown to us.  

At Five in the evening the Republic of Ireland entertain Scotland, if Scotland win this will be highly advantageous for us.  Then at 7:45 England play Italy in Wolverhampton, for reasons unclear,  and when Italy obtain a glorious high scoring victory I can tell you both Ireland and Scotland, plus Wales, will rejoice with exceeding joy.

Not that we have a grudge against the imperialist despots you understand.

However, all this takes away time for other things, such as eating and washing, so during the day, when I ought to be eating and washing, I have to attend to my emails, read the papers, fall asleep, and send time wondering what day it is.  Normal day as it were.

I did receive a nice letter from the Chief Constable.  He replied much as I expected, stating his position and soon I will reply nicely also.  Quite why the two constables were required to deliver this letter, and in doing so beat the living daily lights out of me as part of the reply I fail to understand.  

They were big girls too!

However, this has gone as far as it can so I will move on, once the bruises heal.

Today my interesting life took me to supermarkets, wearing a jacket while the temperature soared high before 9 am, and then to a Norwegian Chilli Salmon for dinner.  I did not realise Norwegians used Chilli!  It may be a Viking leftover.  Now football has begin, I must watch in case I miss something, and then look up the maps to find out where half these teams originate.  Ukraine we now all know only too well, but so many have never heard of Armenia, yet it goes back way into history.  I suspect few have heard of the Armenian holocaust of 1915 the government does not wish to speak off, nor the connections between the Armenians and the Romans in far off days.  And we will not begin on Nagorno-Karabakh! 

Sebald

 

This is a strange book, at one and the same time quite confusing, and yet I could not leave it aside for long, I wanted to turn to the next page.

During 1992 the author, a German born Professor of German literature at Manchester, took a long walk along the Suffolk coast.  This, thought I, would be a typical book of the genre, but I was, like Boris Johnson always is, mistaken.  Indeed, he does walk from Somerleyton to Ditchingham, passing through Dunwich and Southwold, as you must if you walk this coast.  But it is not so much the area that he discusses, instead he takes us all over the world, I almost wrote 'all over the place.'  

The author begins by lying in a hospital for some reason unknown, not quite sure where he was and suffering the effects of the painkillers.  He spends far too much time on a literary woman who spends her time living her life through the writer Gustave Flaubert, before he fastens on a book by Thomas Browne.  Thomas Browne, 1605-1682, was a polymath, a title I once believed referred to a man who counted parrots.  Instead it appears Browne wrote on many scientific, health and natural world subjects, and was well known in his day.  Sebald becomes fascinated with him and spends many pages discussing his life and work.  I was not so interested in this chapter.

Referring to fishermen noted on the coast, or the ones we used to have, the author launches into a history of the Herring, and quite interesting this is.  Sebald describes the dereliction that is Lowestoft and the reasons why, as he passes through.  

He continues this way throughout the book, describing people or places, those he knew or the subject of the moment, sometimes intriguing, sometimes boring as you will.  

This was made irritating by a man who was a professor of literature who could not make paragraphs.  Each page of the book is dense with words.  Not a break between subjects, no paragraphs, just one story merging into the next on the same line.  He may have thought this trendy but I think it makes following the subject difficult.  Maybe I am just used to books that are paid out properly but his paragraphs, when you find one, are pages apart.

Nonetheless, I finished the book, learned once again about Dulwich, trees falling in the hurricane, Empress Tzu-hsi, who murdered her way to power, Joseph Conrad and the Belgian Congo, and the troubles in Ireland after the Second World War.  Most of which we knew already.

Apart from the tales the author speaks of the thoughts in his mind.  He describes his dreams in overlong passages, speaks of his thoughts of things brought to mind by small coincidences, and in general made me wonder if the hospital had given him too many of the wrong type of tablets.   

However, that said I had to finish the book, skipping through the last chapter on Thomas Browne, and if this not yet been read it may be worth a look for many people.  I do not think however, I will rush to buy any other of his works for the moment.