Sunday, 29 January 2023

Other Feelings

I wrote, twelve and more years ago, about the burgening relationship forming between me and my central heating system. I admit that over the intervening years, I became careless about its feelings and ignored it for months at a time. I have been rewarded by a cold spell, beginning approximately at the time of the freezing temperatures in December. I deserve nothing else.

As in my last piece, the list of faults had become extensive, and some I am yet to fix. This time though, with the system in its twenty seventh year, some of the failures have become difficult to address. I have been fortunate in obtaining spare parts, especially the safety systems which had become untrustworthy over the years, but significant components have reached their end of life, and are beyond complete repair.

I've come to realise that some symptoms, observed as long as five years ago, have been the result of leaks developing between the flue inner and outer pipes. These allows hot, wet flue gases to mix with incoming cold air, and result in condensation inside the boiler jacket. The excess water drips everywhere, causing rust and damage to the control system. The faults are inside the flue elbow, and inaccessible to any reasonable approach, short of a full removal and rebuild of the boiler and flue assembly.

I have patched as much as possible, by removing the fan assembly and applying metal tape. The boiler will again run without tripping the house RCD; condensate levels are under control. I will however need a new boiler soon. Before that, I'm considering playing with the valve, since it's jammed again. I'm enjoying being warm though, so I'll ignore the problem a while.

Tuesday, 27 September 2022

Jumping Vlad Flash

When I was nine or ten years old, at school, I vividly remember ending a game of chess that I felt I should not be losing, by tipping up the board, I can understand why there are suddenly leaks appearing in the marine sections of Nordstream I and II. Fortunately, at that time, I was below the legal minimum age to buy nuclear weapons. 

Monday, 19 September 2022

The Wand, the Hat and the Hand Grenade

One of the universals of the interviews with the great, good or utterly insignificant appears to be that they all remember when they met Her Maj. I do not. I'm pretty certain we both attended the same flower show on at least one occasion, and I may have glimpsed a small but regal lady being mobbed by the adoring public, but it's not an image I can draw on with any certainty. It's not that I'm generally forgetful, I met her daughter, in a coffee shop, and I thought: "Why the long face?" and felt ashamed of that.

But the television is on. I've mild Covid symptoms, so I'm not about to impose my presence on the rest of the world. Talking heads, marching bands. I have time to reflect, and to wonder.

I wonder if BSL is really so full of downwards gestures, or whether it's just the topic, for example. I wonder what will be on the telly tomorrow.

Saturday, 9 July 2022

Gatekeeper, Fritillary, etc

The area of garden that I cultivated last year is tall with nodding verbena bonariensis, not because I have cultivated them, but purely because I've let them grow, removing what I consider to be weeds. Amongst these tall stems are samples of broom rape, mallow, foxglove, and other cottage garden specimens. If you look carefully there's still some bramble and bindweed.

Attracted to the view outdoors this morning by the fluttering of a large and orangy butterfly, I stood and watched a while, to try and work out which of the fritillaries it was, and spotted a crisp, new gatekeeper. There have been a couple of weeks of meadow browns already, so it's no surprise, despite the difficulties of predicting a season that has been dry and occasionally cool, before the current warmth and sun.

Tuesday, 3 May 2022

Wordsearch

Sat with a wet pen.

A postcard to say Goodbye:

Sadly missed, my love.

Friday, 29 April 2022

FNFDF

 I call: First New Forest donkey foal, yesterday, just East of Beaulieu.

And a young blackbird in the garden today.

Sunday, 17 April 2022

On The Sea of Green

My garden dinghy sits atop its trailer on a wave of deeper grass, where the pigeons don't graze.

Around its prow, the sun brings out ripples of daisies and speedwell, like the sparkling reflections of light on water.

Cradled on a soupy sea; in still motion.