A Merry Christmas from the Werewolf to ..............

..... all my faithful "Bloggees",

I pray good beef and I pray good beer
This holy night of all the year,
But I pray detestable drink to them
That give no honour to Bethlehem.

May all good fellows that here agree
Drink audit ale in heaven with me,
And may all my enemies go to hell!
Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!

May all my enemies go to hell!
Noel! Noel!

— Hilaire Belloc

 Hey Ho!

And finally (just in case!) .........

Today, 21.12.2012, at 11.11 GMT, is the Winter Solstice where the earth's axial tilt is farthest away from the sun.

Druids and pagans are among those who head to Stonehenge each December to watch the sunrise on the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere.

Druid leader King Arthur Pendragon, Aldershot's most eccentric ex-soldier, will be leading the celebrations. Apparently he will be making a "political statement" which he hopes will be heard around the world:

"I will be asking for an end to war, an end to economic slavery and, basically, a cleaner, greener planet", announced the self-declared reincarnation of King Arthur.

I don't know why he is bothering because this year's solstice date also marks the conclusion of the long count cycle of the Mayan calendar, which many people believe indicates the end of the world.

Thousands of believers have gathered in Mexico near ancient Mayan ruins, and in other supposedly spiritual places around the world.

Panic-buying of candles has been reported in China's Sichuan province where police have arrested almost 1,000 members of a Christian group which has predicted that Friday will usher in three days of darkness.

A farmer in Hebei province, Liu has built seven survival pods which can contain 14 people each. The pods, made of fibreglass, float on water and can survive storms.

In Russia, where sales of tinned goods and matches have surged, Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev has urged his countryfolk to remain calm.

Authorities in the French Pyrenees are preparing for an influx of believers to the mountain Pic de Bugarach, where rumours have spread that UFOs will rescue human gatherers.

So, with that in mind, I thought I better fire out one more blog, just in case.

And all I can say is:

I wish I was back in Fuseta,

Not just 'cause the weather is better.

Wherever you go, the pace is so slow

without any bright lights or glitter.

I think I could live in Fuseta,

I could still send my blogging newsletter.

No hotels or pubs, no taxis or bus

But WIFI for the old internetter!

But I'm no longer out in Fuseta

I'm back in the Boro - much wetter.

The heating is on, shorts and T-shirts are gone

and it's long johns, pyjamas and sweater.

Can't wait to go back to Fuseta,

I'm becoming a bit of a "jetter".

Why stay at home, working the loam?

When out there it's startlingly cheaper.

So with memories of sun in Fuseta.

It's back to the dire English weather.

Return to the grind and each night to unwind

Down the Fox with "Original" bitter!

For those of you who have never been to Farnborough or have manged to erase it from your minds, here's a reminder of what it looks like:

Just looked out of the window and everything seems stable - the sun is actually shining.

So looks like I'll have to do my Christmas shopping after all!

This will cheer you all up:


Hey Ho!

Lesley mourns ..................

...........  the passing of it's most famous resident:

St Peter, God’s official greeter,

Welcomes heaven’s latest guest:

“For years you’ve viewed us from afar

And now, Sir Patrick, here you are –

We hope you’ll be impressed.”

 

St Peter, God’s official greeter,

Hears the new arrival groan

As he collects his golden harp:

“I realise it’s rude to carp,

But where’s my xylophone?”

The Welsh Bard December 2012 

A true eccentric who will always be remembered but never be replaced.

           Sir Patrick Moore RIP

All aboard the Night Train .....

The weather has been kind to us so far in Fuseta.

I have been fishing during the day although the closest I have come to catching anything is this fearsome character:

Even the evenings have been nice and only a little bit chilly.

But today, Thursday, the 12th of our latest excursion to Portugal, for the first time we have not experienced blue skies and sunshine but steady rain and drizzle all day.

Hopefully the weather will improve tomorrow as it is Janice's birthday and although already recognised as an OAP in the UK for the last 5 years, tomorrow she will be officially an OAP in Portugal, entitling her, on production of her passport, to half price rail travel.

In Fuseta rail travel is "the only way to travel" not least because it does not have a local bus service nor, with the exception of the flat bottomed, non-wheeled variety that ferries you to and from Ilha da Armona, any local taxi service but does, for some inexplicable reason, have two railway stations not a mile apart and on the same line.

By rail you can travel west to Olhao, Faro and onwards to Alberfuira and Lagos or east to Tavira and Vila Real San Antonio where you can see across the estuary to Spain.

You just have to take your life into your hands when getting on or off the train - no "Mind the Gap" announcement here.

It was to Tavira that we travelled to yesterday and, having failed miserably to find a particular restaurant, we headed across the river and got lost in the alleys and side streets before coming across a couple of English bars. Following directions from the English locals we got lost again before the Algarve's answer to Brentford's Archie Karachi tempted us into the Punjab Palace Tandoori where we sampled chef Vindaloo Vic's delightful "Prato do Dia" of Lamb Madras, Chicken Tikka Marsala, Tarka Dal, Pilau Rice and Naan  with complimentary popadoms and chutneys, at the ridiculously reasonable cost of £7 a head.

Well stuffed we wandered back across the river and stumbled on the restaurant where we originally planned to have lunch and then came across Tavira Municipal Museum which was hosting two exhibitions:

The first, "FOTOGRAFAR. ANDRADE FAMILY LOOKS ON TAVIRA, reflecting the views of four generations of photographers of the same family, the Andrades, images of Tavira and it's inhabitants and incorporating the history and evolution of photography techniques and equipment from the start of the 20th century to the current day. And jolly interesting it was too!

The second "MANIMAE - THE RADIANT DAYS" an exhibition-reflection on the sustainability of territories, species and human societies, which, frankly passed well over my head and appeared to be various collections of alabaster plaster covered rubber gloves.

There was, however, a blank canvas and a selection of crayons and felt tips for visitors to add their own creation. As you are well aware by now, I didn't get where I am today by passing over an opportunity and left my own little masterpiece.

"Cultured out" we returned early to the railway station, stopping on the way to purchase a pound of homemade sausages from the English "talho" to remedy my sausage withdrawal symptoms.

No visit to Tavira is complete without a troll round the local Lidls emporium which is situated next to the station and even more tatty than it's Blackwater sister. However It never fails to come up trumps and just when we thought we'd forgotten all about 60's soap powders, it gave us:

Must sign off now and open another £1 litre bottle of red hoping that the weather will be kind to Janice tomorrow and leave you with a little toon to conjure up memories of our youth in the 60's.

Hey Ho!