Independente Day

I am writing this latest entry on the veranda of our apartment overlooking one of the 7 Natural Wonders of Portugal.

The Ria Formosa Natural Park is one of the most amazing places of the Algarve, not only for its variety of landscapes but also because of its unique location.

This is a unique coastal lagoon which encompasses an area of about 18,000 hectares. It is protected from the sea by 5 barrier-islands and 2 peninsulas. This awesome area extends for 50km along the leeward coast of the Algarve through the municipalities of Loulé, Faro, Olhão, Fuseta, Tavira, Cacela Velha and Vila Real de Santo Antonio on the the border with Spain.

http://www.formosamar.com/en/ria-formosa#.UkaTloaURUo

Not on the same grand scale as the Ria Formosa, but somewhere we are looking forward to walking around next Saturday is the newly created Medmerry Nature Reserve, right next to our caravan at Bunn Leisure.

Between Selsey and Bracklesham the Environment Agency has created the largest managed realignment of the coast anywhere in Britain

Managed realignment is where major new sea defences are built inland and the existing shingle bank is breached, allowing a new intertidal area to form. 

The Medmerry scheme's overriding objective is to greatly improve the standard of flood protection for over 300 homes in Selsey, for the water treatment works, and for the main road into Selsey.

But this scheme  will also create important new wildlife habitat, and it will open up extensive new footpaths, cycleways and bridleways for everyone to enjoy, right on the doorstep of Medmerry Park. 

Work on this multi-million pound scheme started in September 2011 and completed in September 2013, when  the beach was finally breached at the Selsey end. 

The new reserve, including habitats both seaward and landward of the new sea defences, will be managed by the RSPB, who already own the Bracklesham Bay Nature Reserve just south of Medmerry Park. 

The clay needed to build Medmerry’s new flood banks was dug from large shallow pits within the scheme. It was a wonderful opportunity to look for archaeology and Archaeology South-East (ASE), from University College London, has been undertaking fieldwork and has discovered some amazing finds. Bronze Age settlements and Neolithic pottery are some of the finds made by UCL archaeologists.

Now that the fieldwork is complete, the archive of artefacts, dating back to c. 1,100 BC will be submitted to Chichester Museum. 

http://peninsulapartnership.org.uk/environment/coastal-management/medmerry/archaeology-at-medmerry/

Somewhere among the people being shown round the digs are Janice and I, who were invited on an Environmental Agency walk of the archaeology site earlier this year.

Meanwhile Portugal is in the grip of election fever. The local elections are taking place tomorrow and for the last week Fuseta has been inundated with cars and vans continuously circling the town blaring out their election promises.

Hey Ho!

Big Trouble in Little Brentford - Part Deux

We are eight days into our latest visit to Fuseta, in the Eastern Algarve, Portugal.

I was somewhat apprehensive about coming back here for what is our 4th visit. After all you can see what there is to see here in less than half a day.

However, as soon as we had settled into our usual apartment and strolled around the town I  immediately felt at home and totally at peace with the world.

I know I've waxed lyrical about this area before but I feel the need to do so again!

Staying in Fuseta is like stepping back in time. The area is totally unspoilt and the village is an old fashioned, traditional fishing village where everyone knows everyone.

The locals speak just enough English to get by, but they welcome tourists with open arms and genuine friendship.

http://www.visit-eastalgarve.com/travel_guide/Fuseta.html

The apartment that we rent overlooks the protected Ria Formosa National Park, the Isle de Armona and the Atlantic Ocean.

The small local population work mostly in the few shops and restaurants or in the fishing trade and are very family oriented. The beaches are stunning and the restaurants serve delicious food at a fraction of what it costs anywhere else on the Algarve let alone the rest of Europe.

Fuseta benefits from both a tranquil lagoon beach based in the village ideal for young children, and ocean beaches reached by a five minute ferry ride from the small quay which provides access to the barrier island beaches of the Ria Formosa, the Atlantic Ocean and 14 kilometres of unbroken sand.

At the outdoor restaurant shown at the end of the video, CasaCorvo, you are served with a large salad and bread, followed by a selection of anything that they have - gambas, sardines, whole sea bass, tuna, swordfish, mackerel, pork steaks or half a chicken accompanied by  boiled potatoes and/or chips. You can have as much as you can eat washed down by as much wine or beer as necessary to get you through your meal, followed by a local pastry or cake and coffee. If you feel the need for a liqueur you can have one.

All at the exorbitant cost of 10€ per head!

Whilst not exploring Tavira, Monte Gordo and Cabanas with the Young Allotmenteers, pictured above, who are staying about 15  miles east of us, I have been lazing about in the sun, listening to old episodes of Desert Island Discs and reading the fifth and final novel in Robert Rankine's Brentford Trilogy, "Knees Up Mother Earth".

And it's here we pick up the soccer trail again and the saga of "Big Trouble in Little Brentford".

Deep in the council chamber of Brentford town hall, Gavin Shufty, representative of a consortium intent on the purchase of Griffin Park, home of Brentford FC, is explaining the detail of the proposed deal to redevelop the area with executive homes.

Brentford FC is at an all time low. They have not won a single game for two seasons, the manager has resigned and the club is in debt to the bank to the tune of £1.65 million.

Under the terms of the contract the debt owed by Brentford town council, owners of the football club, will be written off in exchange for vacant possession of the ground and surrounding area at the end of the current season and the granting of all the necessary planning permission for the housing development to commence.

Each councillor that signs the contract will have a road named after them and each will receive 1,000 shares in the building project, which when the homes go on sale, are expected to reach at least £100 per share.

This is the reason why people become town councillors and each member duly signs on the dotted line.

All except Neville, the part-time barman, that is.

Neville, newly elected to the council by the clientele of the Flying Swan to champion the cause of the working man (or not working as the case may be) on the otherwise corrupt Brentford Town Council, is torn between standing up for his principles and not signing the contract or grasping the backhander with both hands thus allowing him to fulfil his dreams of owning his own pub.

Finally, this once in a life time opportunity to buy the Flying Swan from the brewery proves too tempting to refuse and Neville, racked with guilt, signs the contract.

However, in an attempt to partially clear his conscience, Neville insists that a clause be added to the contract that he, Neville, the part-time barman, has sole responsibility for appointing the new manager and that if the club goes on to win the FA Cup this season the debt will be written off,  the sale of Griffin Park will be null and void, and the ground will remain the home of Brentford FC.

Later the following lunchtime in the public bar of the Flying Swan, an ugly incident involving Neville, the part-time barman, his knobkerry¹ and public bar stalwarts John Vincent Omalley and James Arbuthnot Pooley, leaves the latter two in the cottage hospital with concussion and a life time ban from their beloved pub.

Neville, the part-time barman, under threat of prosecution for GBH, reluctantly rescinds the life time ban on the Irish duo and, against his better judgement, "You (Jim Pooley), couldn't organise a knees-up in a brothel!", appoints Jim Pooley as the new manager of Brentford FC with John Omalley as his PA.

Jim Pooley is not happy with his appointment - "Football Management is a full-time job and full-time employment has never sat altogether easily down to dine with me. In fact, it's generally departed prior to the pudding course and without paying the bill." 

But spurred on by Omalley and the realisation that the football club has a fully stocked bar that will be his to do what he wants with, he reluctantly accepts the offer and the unlikely pair set forth for Griffin Park.

They are met at the gates with more than a degree of unpleasantness from the resident groundsman, the turban headed, kilt wearing Mahatma Campbell, who knows the pair of rogues from old.

But having sorted out the "ground rules" with the Campbell over "the one" at the club bar, Jim and John install themselves in their new offices and start their incredible journey on the trail to Wembley.

¹ -  knobkerry - a short wooden club with a heavy knob on one end; used by aborigines in southern Africa and part time barmen in Brentford for hitting drunken customers on the head.

Could Farnborough FC and Mr. Paddy Power be following a similar path to Brentford ?

Only time will tell!

With that I'll leave you to ponder over this pearl of wisdom, as inscribed on the wall of Monte Gordo railway station.

Is there more to these simple Portuguese folk than meets the eye, or are they students of William Blake? Perhaps they just share Aldous Huxley's fascination with hallucinogenic drugs! 

And on that deep and meaningful note I'll leave you with this:



Hey Ho!

Big Trouble in Little Brentford - Part 1

Has the world of sport has gone mad!

First the world record football transfer fee is smashed - by a Welshman.

Then the Welsh Rugby Union appoint an Englishman as their Head of Rugby.

And if that is not inexplicable enough, Christian Ronaldo negotiates a £285,000-a-week, after tax, contract with performance bonuses and substantial image right payments on top.

And as I write this I see that he is about to sign  a new contact with Nike worth up to £8 million pounds a year.

SHEER MADNESS!

Meanwhile down on the bottom rung of the football ladder things could not get much worse.

Both my local teams are down but not quite out.

Aldershot celebrated their relegation from the Football League by going into Administration. Backed by the supporters trust they regrouped and gained entrance to the Conference Premier but incurred a 10 point deduction for their sins. It's kind of a "Kick 'em While Their Down" Tax!

Farnborough on the other hand, having finished a creditable 13th despite having 14 points deducted under the Conference League "Kick 'em While Their Down" scheme and having the smallest budget and squad of players which necessitated the left back playing in goal for the last 3 games of the season, celebrated in a similar fashion to neighbours Aldershot and duly went into Administration.

However, well versed in all aspects of down and outness, Farnborough took out a CVA before declaring Administration thus avoiding any points penalty from the Conference League.

All they needed for the new season was a financial backer.

Tesco Express came up with an ambitious multi-million pound plan to save the club and redevelop the area surrounding the ground to include all weather training facilities, five a side pitches, a new allotment area and a supermarket.

Yes, a once in a lifetime chance to bring prosperity and stability to area with top class leisure facilities for the residents.

All that was needed was the approval of the scheme by the landowners, Rushmoor Borough Council.

I even contact my mate Sir Gerald Howarth MP urging him to do what he could to encourage Rushmoor Council to expedite their approval.

However, Rushmoor Borough Council predictably dillied and dallied. Then they dallied and dillied.

Make or break meeting looms for Farnborough

Then, while dillying and dallying for the third time, Tesco express lost interest and took their plans to a more forward looking Council.

With the clock ticking down to the opening fixture of the season Farnborough were still seeking the financial backing required to satisfy the Conference League and gain re-admittance to the league.

Then at the 11th hour along came Paddy Power, the on-line betting company, with a life saving sponsorship deal which not only required the Cherrywood Road ground to be renamed to Paddy Power Park but for the players and management to change their names by deed poll to those of some of the most famous players in world football.

Yes, Farnborough FC was to be managed by Jose Mourinho, assisted by Sir Alex Ferguson and kit-man Terry Venables!

Farnborough unveils super team

The Conference League were not amused and demanded a £100,000 bond under the "Kick 'em While Their Down" scheme before considering their acceptance to the league.

Paddy Power duly stumped up the cash but the transfer of funds was not completed until 31 minutes after the deadline. Farnborough seemed doomed.

Mr Paddy Power was seriously pissed off and mounted a campaign against "the faceless Conference executives".

Football Conference fun police

Two games into the season and Farnborough still hadn't kicked a ball in anger. A crisis meeting with the League was called .

Crisis meeting set

The Conference League's management had been well and truly rubbed up the wrong way by Mr. Paddy Power and Farnborough were still refused entry into the league and under hastily added extensions to the "Kick 'em While Their Down" scheme further conditions were heaped upon the club, including the management and players reverting to their given names on their birth certificates.

Mind you I'm amazed that Elvis Stark Hammond (AKA Pele) hadn't changed his name years before as soon as he was old enough.

Future still uncertain

At this point you could be excused thinking that the Conference League didn't want Farnborough to play in their league.

But Farnborough FC and Mr Paddy Power are made of stern stuff and following a last chance meeting with the Conference (and I suspect the threat of more front page national publicity alongside a set of handsome backhanders) the club were given the go ahead to start their 2013 campaign, five games into the season..

Boro win Conference approval

And the far from match fit side started in style with a fine 1 -0 win over Dover with a great goal from Diego Maradona, sorry, Dave Tarpey!

At this point, if you have managed to get this far, you will be asking yourself why this blog entry is entitled "Big Trouble in Little Brentford - Part 1"?

All will be revealed in "Big Trouble in Little Brentford - Part 2".

Continuing on a soccer theme, on a somewhat of a lighter note, I'll leave you with this:

IT'S ONLY A GAME!

Wish You Were Here

This week found us  not on the golden beaches of the Algarve, not on the shimmering sands of a West Indian island nor soaking up the sun on an Indian Ocean beach.

No,  we were battling with the English Channel smooth hound sharks (AKA Dog Fish) on the recharged beach at the windy city of Lesley, which on Saturday was as beautiful as anywhere you could have imagined.

These photos say it all:

 

 

 

 

What can I say !
I'll leave you with a bit of Floyd -

A Good Year for the Onions

About this time every year I ask myself the same question, "Why oh why do I plant so many courgettes?".

I have green one, yellow ones, striped ones, round ones - you name it I've got it and Janice's excellent culinary skills are being stretched to the limits. There are only a handful of ways to cook the little devils!

I can't even give them away in the pub anymore. As soon as anyone in The Fox sees me coming through the door with two large carrier bags they disperse in all directions screaming "Courgette Alert!"

I'm even having nightmares about them. This is what it's like:

All suggestions as to what to do with my courgettes should be sent to:

home@werewolfofhampshire.co.uk

Needless to say when I raised the subject with The Welsh Bard he came up with this offering:

Cove’s premier allotmenteer
Is popular, but once a year
The Foxy locals tend to sneer
When Chris arrives to have a beer…
They hiss and boo whenever he walks in.

For days on end his bags are filled
As, once again, he tries to build
Enthusiasm, but it’s killed
When even the most veggie-willed
Discover that their appetites run thin.

The produce comes in endless rows,
And so the courgette mountain grows
Unstoppably, although he knows
That everyone who takes them throws
A lot of what he gives them in the bin!

I am longing for the day when I can stand in the middle of the plot and sing, at the top of my voice, this little song:

But it is not just the courgettes that abound.

French beans and runner beans need picking daily and the potato harvest has been the best since I took on the plot.

It's also been "a good year for the onions"!

And I'll leave you with words of Jerry Cheshnut, suitably amended, from the song made famous by George Jones and ruined by Elvis Costello:

What a good year for the onions
Many bulbs still linger there
The beans could stand another pick
Funny I don't even care
As you turn to walk away
Treading softly on your bunions
The only thing I have to say
It's been a good year for the onions.

Here's George, who sadly passed away earlier this year:

Hey Ho!

If music be the food of love ................

What a day we had upon the Avon
Starting early in the Rose and Crown,

Watching our brave Lion heroes

Battling hard to put the Aussies down.

Then onwards to the River Festival

Out into the sunshine we did stride.

Across the bridge 'mongst thousands

Of happy, singing Brummies by our side.

There were beer tents, stalls, live music

But very little "Kulture" we did see

Just drunken, sweaty Brummies

Across from the RSC.

Stratford is a pleasant town,

But it's streets are paved with Shakespeares.

And, "if music be the food of love"

I'll have a pint of Brakespeares!

What a weekend - or 4 days to be precise!

The hottest weekend of the year found us not at Lesley but in Stratford upon Avon for an extended weekend which included the annual two day River Festival.

However the first item on the agenda was The Big Bash at Melbourne Park.

What a game and an Englishman scored the first try!

The only down side was the resident panel of experts (spelt NIT WITS) of Stuart Barnes and Scott Quinnell!

SkySports must have a "Say the bleedin' obvious" training course that ex players have to pass before they are allowed on air.

The Welsh Bard was not impressed either:

Up, down, Up Down Under…

Thank the Lord it’s over in Australia!

I’m sure that I’ll recover, by and by;

I didn’t have to cope with final failure,

But I’d had my fill of Stuart Barnes on Sky…

The Western Mail was far too chauvinistic –

Thank God some non-Welsh players scored a try!

But nothing made this viewer so ballistic

As Stuart Barnes, and Scott Quinnell on Sky…

There’s never been a man to match McLaren,

Whose talents set the standards way too high.

The rugby’s great – the commentary’s barren,

With Stuart Barnes and all his pals on Sky…

So thank the Lord the torment wasn’t tougher;

At least the local didn’t (quite) run dry.

It’s over, and no more we’ll have to suffer

Those Saturdays with Stuart Barnes on Sky!

Feel the same way? - then click this link:

Remove Stuart Barnes From SkySports Commentary

The Stratford River Festival was brilliant with live music from midday onwards and fireworks at nightfall across the water from the RSC with all the long boats illuminated. And to top it all the beer tent had Brakespeares Special! 

To say that Stratford upon Avon is a one man town is an understatement but, with the exception of Anne Hathaway's cottage which was in walking distance of where we were staying, we avoided the many tourist attractions including the half timbered Kebab House.

I also avoided having to endure any Shakespeare performances although Janice did sit through Romeo & Juliet and Twelfth Night at the Dell RSC Open Air Theatre.

I did, however, get dragged into the RSC Swan theatre to see "A Mad World My Masters" - a rarely performed 17th century tale of sex and money.

It has been transformed into a 1950s romp set in London’s seedy Soho by Director Sean Folly,  who described the Thomas Middleton comedy as “the filthiest play I’ve ever read”. It is a farcical foray into the sleazy world of prostitutes, tricksters and the tale of an over jealous husband seeking to expose his straying wife’s affair and described by one critic as a "disgracefully entertaining evening."

It certainly was!

Meanwhile the Prospect Plot is booming, especially the fruit. We have picked at least 30lbs of strawberries and they are still coming!

I'll finish with this bizarre story, brought to my attention by the Welsh Bard earlier this week.

Brazilian referee beheaded by spectators after he fatally stabs player

Police in northern Brazil say one man has been arrested after a referee who fatally stabbed a player during a match was decapitated by spectators who stormed the field.

Local reports said the incident, which took place on 30 June in the remote Brazilian town of Pio XII, escalated when the player, 30-year-old Josenir dos Santos, became involved in an argument with the referee, Octavio da Silva.

As the confrontation became physical and Dos Santos refused to leave the field, Da Silva allegedly produced a knife and stabbed the player, who died while being taken to hospital.

Reports said that outraged spectators responded by running on to the field and stoning Da Silva, before severing his head and sticking it on a stake in the middle of the field.

Police at the regional headquarters of Santa Ines said a 27-year-old man was arrested on 2 July, with the investigation continuing.

Still thinking of going to the World Cup next year?

Here's the thoughts of the Welsh Bard:

There are dangers that lurk in the Amazon’s murk

More potent than snakes or piranhas:

The beautiful game will not be the same

Since the ref drove spectators bananas…

In Europe, it’s said, footy goes to your head,

But this may be the answer for Blatter -

We’d all have a thrill if the boys from Brazil

Served up his head on a platter!

All I can say is "Roll me away!"

Eat your heart out Bruce!

Hey Ho!

The Changing Man

Those of you that had the dubious pleasure of working alongside me over the years will be fully aware that I didn't get where I am today by working "flat out". In fact I have always been of the opinion that "top gear" is a mechanism that should be engaged sparingly and only in exceptional circumstances.

However, it is with a certain amount of embarrassment that I have to report since our return from Cyprus nearly a month ago I have indeed been "flat out". The majority of the days have been taken up with getting the allotment back on track. The cold wet weather we experienced at the end of April and beginning of May followed by my 3 week absence had left the plot well behind schedule but with 12 days hard work and, sadly, a total disregard for being "in toon with the moon", plot 24A is "smoking"!

The rest of the time has been spent trying to sort out our own and a few selected customer's gardens. With the additional work I have taken on for WDTW, I had already decided to reduce the amount of gardening work I do and this cause has been considerably assisted by the change of both my home and mobile phone numbers.

It's not been all hard work though and we have been able to enjoy the last few weekends sunshine on the West Sussex coast with the fishing rods in action on two occasions. Last weekend I shattered the Guinness Book of Records smallest shark entry, see below. Actually it  was a dogfish but our granddaughter Amber ran back to the caravan shouting "Granddad's caught a shark!".

There was also time for the quarterly quest for the Holy Grail round the mean streets of Oxford with Sniffer Evans and Arty Garner. The Welsh Bard's newly reconditioned snozzle did us proud as it tracked down four new watering holes - Jude the Obscure, The Jericho Tavern, The Rickety Press, and most impressively the hidden away Bookbinders Arms, now renamed The Old Bookbinders,  and which was featured in the first episode of Morse, although disappointingly it didn't open on weekday lunchtimes.

The Welsh Bard celebrate the day with this little ode:

Up at Oxford, the boys’ latest tour
Commences with Jude the Obscure,
Then novelly crawls round Jericho’s walls,
And the Rickety Press – which is poor…

There, Chris gets a splinter, a drag,
So, lest any spirits should sag,
Baltzer and Arty, continue the party
Up at de Lamb and de Flag…

And, having dispensed with Loch Fyne
At the Kings they’re entranced by the sign:

So, creatures of habit, they order the rabbit,
And liver and bacon, and dine…

Then Arty and Chris steal away,
And I’m left on my lonesome to play,
But I'm setting a course for a pub used by Morse,

We'll Book in at The Binders one day!

As I have said before Oxford is a wonderful place for a pub crawl and it would appear that I am not the only person to eulogize this fact in a blog - the-inspector-morses-oxford-pub-crawl.

Whilst on holiday and when not listening to podcasts of Desert island Discs, I read the sixth novel in Robert Rankine's Brentford Trilogy, "Sex, Drugs and Sausage Rolls" in which John Omalley fulfills his secret ambition to manage a rock band, "Gandhi's Hairdryer". Each chapter is introduced with a poem and to whet your appetite here is the start of chapter one:

There's a Chef and His Name is Dave

There's a frog in the Kenwood blender,
There's a a cat in the microwave,
There's a mouse in the waste disposal,
There's a chef and his name is Dave.

There's a cockroach that lives in the pâté,
And the salt is the earwig's grave.
There are droppings all over the butter,
There's a chef and his name is Dave.

There's a nasty fungus under the stove,
Where the creepy crawlies wave.
And squeezing his spot in the beef hot-pot,
There's a chef and his name is Dave.

There's a man from the health department,
And he's just been sick in the sink,
And the Waterman's Art Centre kitchen,
Will be closed for a while, I think. 

CHAPTER 1
She does what?' John Omalley, looked up from his pint and down at Small Dave.
   'Reads your knob.' said the wee man. 'It's a bit like Palmistry, where they read the lines on your hand. Except this is called Penistry and they can tell your fortune by looking at your knob.'
   It was spring and it was Tuesday. It was lunchtime. They were in the Flying Swan.
  'I don't believe it,' said John. 'Someone's been winding you up Dave.'
   'They have not. I overheard two policeman talking about it while I was locked in the suitcase.'
   'Excuse me, Dave,' said Soap Distant, newly returned from a journey to the centre of the Earth. 'But why were you locked in a suitcase?'
   'There was some unpleasantness. I don't wish to discuss it.'
   'Small Dave was sacked from his job as chef at the Arts Centre,' said Omally.                                                                                                       ©Robert Rankine 1991

Sadly this week saw the passing of another great comic writer, Tom Sharpe.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013/jun/06/tom-sharpe-dies
What an imaginative sense of humour - here's the gas filled condoms scene from the BBC's dramatisation of Porterhouse Blue:

And for those of you who have a spare half an hour here he is with Roy Plomley on Desert Island Discs in 1984:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio/player/p009mh17

Tom Sharp RIP.
 
Finally, don't be concerned that the subject of this creative piece of writing, "A Changing Man", refers to my work ethic, that was purely temporary. It actually refers to the fact that I boarded flight EZY675 at Pafos airport wearing a blue shirt and black trousers and disembarked at Gatwick wearing a fawn shirt and brown trousers courtesy of the "iffy" young steward who emptied a hot cup of coffee in my lap! For the record I can confirm it was a young blonde stewardess not the "iffy" young steward who assisted me with the mopping up of the scolding brew from my groin area! What a nightmare. All I can say is try and avoid making a complete change of clothes in the confines of an airline toilet!

On that hot sticky note I leave you with Mr Paul Weller:

Hey Ho!