Thoughts on Teleportation and Fracking

Those who are familiar with the BBC comedy 'Only Fools and Horses' will know what I mean by 'Trigger's broom.'

The joke was along the lines of "He's had had the same broom for thirty years. It's had ten new handles and eight new brush-heads." So the philosophical argument is, 'Is it the same broom?' Most people would say 'no,' but now let's turn it around.

The human body is in a constant process of renewal, and scientists say that there will not be a single atom in your body that was part of you ten years ago, so are we the same people that we used to be? Or are we really just a new machine running to an old computer program (our brains)?

Similarly, I often used to puzzle about the science fiction scenario of 'teleportation'. The idea of this is that you step into the machine and it analyses you before destroying you and recreating an exact replica of you in a different location. If such a thing ever existed, I wonder if my consciousness would instantly transfer to the new me, or if I would simply cease to perceive anything while the new me seamlessly carries on with all my thoughts and memories and therefore no sense of being a new being. Funnily enough, I explored this quandary in one of my stories in 'The Kent-erbury Tales,' which can be tracked down on Amazon.co.uk - how's that for a seamless plug?

Changing the subject slightly, there seems to have been a marked rise in the glorification of war in recent years, so I was pleased to read a column in the local rag recently, highlighting the true human cost and that the only real winners are the arms manufacturers, who no doubt love a good war now and again to keep business ticking over. In short, we flog the weapons, and then when they get used we've got ourselves another war. I don't buy the argument that if we didn't make the weapons some other country would, as by this logic we may as well plough up the rape seed and start growing fields of opium!

Sadly most of our banks are instrumental in investing our money in the arms trade. We do have a choice though. The Co-op bank (although not completely white as we have seen) does not invest in this sector and neither do many building societies, so we can get our money out of arms if we choose to. If you want to see which accounts measure up when it comes to ethical investments visit http://www.ethicalconsumer.org/buyersguides/money for live updated rankings.

Sadly many of our politicians view the arms industry as important for jobs, when like many people I'd rather see the jobs shifted to creating a green revolution which would give young people real hope rather than the prospect of just more of the same (endless wars and a recession every 20 years, which will of course be somebody else's problem so short term savings and unsustainable 'solutions' seem to be the order of the day. Now that the plans for a huge hydroelectric dam across the mouth of the River Severn have been scrapped and 'fracking mania' has been given the go ahead, does that mean that the official line is that all the fears we had about global warming have just vaporised? Or has nobody read up on the 'greenhouse qualities' of natural gas? Joined up thinking hey, who needs it?!

Wendover, Wallingford, Watlington & Wetness - a Cycling Perambulation

This is a short resume of a cycling expedition that is featured in more detail in the 2016 book 'Stair-Rods and Stars' (ISBN: 978-1513605258) - available now on Amazon and by order from all good book shops.

My most recent cycling expedition took me along the Chiltern Hills and involved camping for two nights, as always eschewing the option of paying to use an official site, and instead diving into the nearest wood as things get dusky. I alighted with my bike at Tring station and headed southwest along a B-road which forms the Upper Icknield Way. I diverted down Tringford Road to join the towpath of the Wendover arm of the Grand Union Canal, but discovered that the gap on the map, which I'd assumed to be a tunnel, was actually a gap of several miles in the middle where the canal was allowed to dry up. I rejoined the B-road and bridged the A41 (pictured), which was the tenth longest road on the UK until the authorities decided to hack out the middle chunk and renumber it as a B-road!

After enjoying the impressive view, I descended Tring Hill and rejoined the towpath, which was hard surfaced here (as opposed to just grass) and very pleasant, winding beside the narrow, often overgrown waterway to Wendover. After a look at this pleasant town, which reminded me of Cranbrook in Kent, and visiting a micro-brewery (basically a pub in a shed) where I sampled the excellent Chiltern Gold ale at £2.20 a pint, storm clouds were gathering. Lightning flashed around as I continued southward on the bike. When the hail started, I was just outside Princes Risborough and had no option but to lay on the grass verge and pull the tarpaulin I was carrying over myself and wait half an hour for the torrential downpour to subside.

I then headed for the nearest Tesco (not something I make a habit of) and used their hand-driers to expunge the absorbed liquid from my clothes and stock up on a few supplies. I then headed for the hills to set up camp for the night. A tree groaned and creaked above me, and having seen what an uprooted cherry tree can do at my regular camping woods near Appledore in Kent, I decided to pick up all my gear at midnight and move twenty feet away.

The next day involved cycling the Ridgeway trail to Watlington. This runs along the bottom of the hills (unlike the western section beyond Goring) and passes beneath the dramatic M40 cutting.

Just after Whatlington, the Ridgeway departs as a footpath, but the byway continues as Swan's Way (reminiscent of Proust?). I then followed the undulating lanes to Goring on Thames, heading for the first pub I could find for a calorific breakfast. I was stunned to learn that this would cost £9.95 and didn't include a drink. So I opted for a £7.95 'smoked haddock and poached egg' instead. I think they call this 'nouveau cuisine' but I just called it small!

£13 lighter (I had two cups of tea), I had a wander up the Thames path and tried some crab-apples, before the drizzle sent me scuttling to the nearest bar, which was actually a hotel. The beer was £4.10 a pint - expensive in my book but maybe about standard for such a plush establishment.

I sat on some decking, watching the boats on the Thames, while a friend confided in me about his relationship troubles on the phone. I then decided to cycle the Thames Path to Wallingford. Eventually leaving the Thames to join the A329.

From a board in the centre of this pleasant town I learned that William the Conqueror had travelled here seeking to cross the Thames. Initially he was refused, but when he returned with something resembling an army, permission was granted and the town was rewarded with an extra hour of trading after the 8pm curfew. I also learned that the town doubles as Causton in the TV series 'Midsummer Murders', so I took a few pictures to show my mum.

On the way back along the bottom of the Chilterns, this time on a B-road, I stopped at the Red Lion in Chinnor. A 6-year-old boy called Adam seemed fascinated by my maps and kept asking where various places he'd visited were. Relishing the attention, I stayed there for another half an hour!

I ended up back in Princes Risborough and made a beeline for the nearest kebab van, opting for a healthy 'shish'. Then it was back into the hills, to join the owls for the night.

The rain began at 5am and my tarpaulin had puddles in it by 9am, so I hastily packed everything away and had a free bath as I cruised back down the hill into Princes Risborough. Thankfully, there is a clock tower in the centre of the town, which is on brick 'stilts', so I sheltered underneath until the rain eased enough for me to search for a cafe.

After a £6 breakfast which included a cup of tea (hurrah!), I had to dispense with my plans to ride the old rail line to Thame and head for the current rail line instead. The journey to Marylebone was quite pleasant; the bike ride to St Pancras less so!

Another hour and I was home again and ready for a well-earned snooze. A real bed never felt so good!

Thoughts on the Russian Language & Milton Keynes

This is a modified extract from the Hamstreet and district parish magazine, written primarily for local people in rural Kent, so please don't take my (hopefully humorous) musings about learning Russian and exploring Milton Keynes to be representative!

I recently uploaded a video of a bike-ride along the bottom of the White Cliffs of Dover to the Internet (search YouTube for 'Ashford ring road' and you'll find my channel). This was made possible due to an attachment I bought for a few quid that fixes a smart-phone to the handlebars of the bike, opening up whole new avenues in the field of amateur video.

Of course, the wartime song about the cliffs, made famous by Vera Lynn, is known internationally. Indeed, my Russian girlfriend is even familiar with it. However, my Russian language skills aren't progressing so well. I know the two most essential words of course - pivo (beer) and chai (tea), but the 6 'cases' which change the endings according to the context have proven a step too far for me. For example, in the phrases 'I give you a knife' and 'you give me a knife' the pronouns 'I' and 'you' change. If 'I cut myself with the knife' the noun 'knife' will alter, along with my pain threshold!

Then there's the male/female/neutral part to contend with. As any student of French or German will know, many languages attribute a gender to inanimate objects. In England, we may affectionately refer to cars or boats as 'she', but very little else. In Russian, a train is male and a station is female, so the name of the station has to be feminised too – our local one would be something like 'Hamstreetskaya'. Even numbers can be male or female – adin (one) becomes adna if talking about something female. So when I need one journey on the Moscow underground I have been told to say 'adna'. When I see the price (approx. 60p for any journey), I can then say 'ochin harrasho' (very good). So if you thought Russian was just about writing the Rs backwards think again!

To illustrate what a large area you can traverse for your 60p, Moscow is the 5th most populated city in the world. In contrast, London ranks 21st, yet it is still the most populated city in the rest of Europe (Paris is a contender, but due to the way its borders are defined it appears much smaller). This is interesting, as Britain is coincidentally the 21st most populated country in the world, yet we are the 4th highest spender on military matters. Draw your own conclusions there according to your sensibilities; mine are that this could be better spent on the national health service, education, railways, post offices (as opposed to privatising them), renewable energy sources (as opposed to tax breaks for 'frackers') - you know, things that might make life a bit better for ordinary people!

A little later I got into a number crunching session with my father, looking up various populations and areas whilst cooking an English breakfast. This was prompted by Mr Putin's representative's alleged comments about Britain along the lines of 'nobody cares what that tiny island thinks'. However, with Russia's area working out at roughly 70 times that of the UK it is hard to argue really, although I think he should be made aware that what the 'island' thinks and what our leaders think are not always the same!

Yet, I was surprised to learn that the world's largest country is only just over twice as populous as the UK with 140 million. Comparing this data with an atlas from the 80s, we noticed that the USSR had roughly 270 million inhabitants (compared to 240 million in the USA), so deduction tells me that the former soviet states that left the federation account for a whopping 130 million people, Ukraine being the largest in population terms. With all this mental arithmetic my dad forgot to heat up the beans, so I had to surround mine with sausages and lay an egg on top to warm them up.

Back to the subject of languages, sometimes I remark that English is much simpler that Russian, but I am informed that this isn't necessarily so. In Russian, there are three tenses – past, present and future; in English there are 17 according to an online source I checked.

It is interesting to hear my girlfriend's opinions on the local area too. The nearby 'market town cum international gateway' of Ashford has come in for a bit of a drubbing in the local press recently, courtesy of a regular correspondent opening up a hornets' nest! Whilst I cringe with embarrassment as we pass all the boarded up shops in the town centre (just how is building a huge out-of-town John Lewis store going to help this?), she always states that it seems a nice town. I recently went on a cycling trip and ended up in Milton Keynes. As a result I have to agree with her. Let me explain:

Having ridden the peaceful towpath of the Grand Union Canal, admired the flight of locks at Foxton, taken in the historic vibes of the Richard III museum in Leicester and fleetingly visited Rugby and Northampton (which claims to be the UK's largest town that hasn't acquired city status), I ended up following the canal route into the aforementioned 'new town' (maybe a 'not-so-new town' now that we are in the 21st century).

By now, the route was lined with a seemingly endless avenue of trees, which I'm sure bordered some very pleasant parkland, but you have to understand that I had just ridden around 50 miles and I was gasping for a drink. I suddenly realised that I wasn't getting closer to any kind of town centre, and the endless, equidistant, identical trees only enhanced this feeling of pedalling hard and getting nowhere. I had imagined an 'up and coming' marina, with trendy bars selling (I would expect 'overpriced') beer. Realising I was just going to get trees, I asked a schoolboy for directions to the nearest shop or pub (there was nobody else around), but due to the grid-structure of the town, his reply required a considerable level of concentration for somebody used to the concentric town model to take in. You see, in most UK towns you generally know which side of the centre you are, and pretty much all roads will take you to the middle.

So having followed his instructions, I discovered the shop to be an anonymous Tesco Express, and the pub was rather reminiscent of a place called The Nelson which was once the only pub on an Ashford housing estate that since gone 'dry'. It was also closed.

Having asked for directions, I found my way to the town centre. A teenager was pleading for his life in a subway while his similar aged attacker was growling like a wild animal. 'Should I call the police?' I wondered, 'Or is this normal here?'

With apologies to anybody living in MK, you can see why my impressions were perhaps not as positive as they could have been, and with both tyres now punctured, heading for the train station seemed the only logical option.

Until next time, 'dosvidania' and maybe one day I'll give MK a fairer assessment.

Desert Island Albums - 2013 [Adam's Music reviews #1]

Many of the pieces I write for this blog are edited versions of articles I write for a local magazine. This month I am going to give you something different. I always enjoy writing about music, so I thought I'd initiate a 'Desert Island Discs' feature. [This is BBC Radio 4's programme where famous people choose records they would like to have with them if stranded on a desert island.] I have selected ten of my favourite albums (or downloads) in no particular order and given the reason why I have chosen them. The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Pink Floyd – The Dark Side of the Moon (1973). 'Money' is about the only song on this album which receives regular airplay (usually edited because of the rude word), but the album spent 6 consecutive years on the UK album chart. All human life is explained in the lyrics. 'Time' is particularly apt. If I had to pick a second PF album it would be a tough choice between 'The Wall' and the totally bonkers 'Ummagumma,' which features a track called 'Grantchester Meadows' (see photo).

The Beatles – White Album (1968). The sequel to Magical Mystery Tour (which in turn followed Sgt Pepper). On this album, the Beatles did whatever they felt like with no constraints towards commercialism. Styles vary from folk to Charleston to country and western to heavy metal, and 'Revolution 9' simulates the effect of waking up during a series of bizarre dreams, before Ringo lulls us back to sleep with 'Good Night'.

Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home (1965). Lyrically I think this is Dylan's masterpiece. You've got 'Mr Tambourine Man' and 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', but for me the highlight is the verbal deluge of 'It's alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding'. This album is half folk and half rock – both sides of Mr Zimmerman's oeuvre. For a second Dylan choice, 1996's 'Time Out of Mind' comes close, but so do about ten others!

Brian Wilson – Smile (2004). The Beach Boys' lost album from 1967 finally appeared in the early 'noughties' as a solo effort (but still sounding like the surfing group). More like a concert-piece of linked songs, the lyrics are fun and random (such as a song about vegetables), but with a sense of triumph that the composer, who pretty much lost his mind making this the first time around, had finally pulled the album together. Includes 'Heroes and Villains' as it was supposed to be heard and 'Good Vibrations' (often voted the best single of all time).

Radiohead – OK Computer (1997). The 90s were almost like the new 60s in terms of music, with a return to rock styles. The Oxford band here went beyond rock with experimentation hinting at what would come on later albums, whilst retaining some very memorable songs such as 'Paranoid Android' and 'Karma Police'. The lyrics seem to be a rather cynical look at life (a la Dark Side of the Moon). 'No alarms and no surprises' depicts provincial life very adeptly too.

Blur – 13 (1999). Blur are usually remembered for the Chas and Dave-esque singalongs from the 'Parklife' era, but on this album they pushed the envelope, with everything from a 7-minute folk anthem ('Tender') to several all-out sonic assaults worthy of Hawkwind. I think Damon Albarn was trying to illustrate how his head felt at the time following a break-up, and he did a pretty good job. Phew.

Mike Oldfield – Hergest Ridge (1974). Most people would opt for Tubular Bells. This album follows the same format, with two very long pieces on which Mike plays most of the instruments. The mostly relaxing style (inspired by rural walks on the aforementioned ridge) makes the intense sonic assault a third of the way into side two even more striking.

The Kinks – Arthur (or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) (1969). Following the more famous 'Village Green Preservation Society' album, this one depicts an old man looking back over his life and assessing the worth of it, from the Victorian era ('when the rich were so mean' to quote the lyrics), to the world wars, to his family emigrating to Australia, and finally the sad repeated refrain of 'Arthur' at the end. Here the Kinks gave us longer instrumental jams like 'Australia' and it is unfortunate that the band are generally only remembered for their singles.

Dire Straits – Love Over Gold (1982). Here, most people would go for 'Brothers in Arms', but this album includes the 14-minute 'Telegraph Road' (which seems like a brief history of civilisation),'Private Investigations' (where a Spanish guitar has never sounded so menacing) and the amusing 'Industrial Disease' in which Mark Knopfler impersonates a doctor!

Beethoven - 3rd symphony "Eroica" (1804). You have to have a 'token gesture' classical piece when you go on Desert Island Discs so here is mine. This one has the famous melodic first movement (make sure you get the full 17-minute version), followed by a dramatic funeral march, a light third movement and a rousing finale. Initially composed to honour Napolean, Beethoven changed his mind as the leader's lust for power became apparent. The 5th 6th and 9th symphonies are also pretty essential.

Sayings in English - The Proverbial

Following a conversation with a friend in a local pub about sayings our grandparents used to use, I decided to compile a comprehensive list of all the ones I remember. Some are still in use, whilst others may be quite nostalgic for people who, like me, have grown up hearing them. Many of these are old beliefs about the weather (the English obsession), some are merely phrases used in various situations and others are pearls of wisdom lifted from such sources as the bible and Shakespeare. I have kept the wordings exactly as I used to hear them from my relatives however. A few of these old sayings have even found themselves enshrined in popular songs; others are just Kentish folklore from a bygone era. I have also added a few notes in square brackets where I felt a need.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush
A cat can look at a king (so surely I can look at you?)
A cat has nine lives
A change is as good as a rest
A chip of the old block
A daughter's a daughter all her life, a son's a son till he gets a wife
A dead man tells no tales
A dripping June sets all in tune
A fool and his money are soon parted
A friend in need is a friend indeed
A good workman never blames his tools
A hot summer means a cold winter [and vice versa]
A hungry man is an angry man

A leopard doesn't change its spots
A rolling stone gathers no moss
A rose between two thorns
A rotten apple spoils the barrel
A stitch in time saves nine
A storm in a teacup
A taste of your own medicine [also known as 'just desserts']
A trouble shared is a trouble halved
A watch-pot never boils
A wise man keeps his own counsel
A wolf in sheep's clothing
A woman's work is never done
A worm will turn
Absence makes the heart grow stronger
Action speaks louder than words
Adding insult to injury
After dinner rest a while, after supper run a mile
All is fair in love and war
All mouth and no trousers
All roads lead to Rome
All tarred with the same brush
All that glitters is not gold
All water under the bridge [in the past]
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy
All's well that ends well
Always look after number one
An apple a day keeps the doctor away
An Englishman's home is his castle
Another nail in the coffin
As the days lengthen, so the cold strengthens
As you make your bed, so you must lie on it
As you sow, so must you reap
Be a brick, my father said, never heed a laugh
Be sure your sins will find you out
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Beauty is only skin-deep
Beggars can't be choosers
Better late than never
Better safe than sorry
Better the devil you know than the devil you don't
Between one and two you know what the weather will do
Blessed is he who expects nothing
Birds of a feather flock together
Blood is thicker than water
Blowing your own trumpet
Brevity is the soul of wit
Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth
Cat got your tongue? [said to a reticent person]

Caught between a rock and a hard place / the devil and the deep blue sea
Charity begins at home
Cleanliness is next to godliness
Cool, calm and collected
Corn in Egypt! [exclamation of surprise]
Creaking doors last the longest
Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye [said when telling the truth]
Curiosity killed the cat
Cut from the same cloth
Cutting your nose off to spite your face
Dicing with death
Digging your own grave
Discretion is the better part of valour
Don't bite the hands that feeds you
'Don't care' didn't care, 'don't care' was hung, 'don't care' was put in a pot and boiled till he was done
Don't cross your bridges before you get to them
Don't beat about the bush
Don't bite off more than you can chew
Don't bite the hand that feeds you
Don't count your chickens before they're hatched
Don't get your knickers in a twist
Don't kill the goose that laid the golden egg
Don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing

Don't put all your eggs in one basket
Don't put the cart before the horse
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise
Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die
Elephants never forget
Empty vessels make the most noise
Every cloud has a silver lining
Every dog has his day
Every time you bar you lose a bite
Evil be to he who evil speaks
Faint heart never won fair lady
Familiarity breeds contempt
Feed a cold and starve a fever
Fight fire with fire
Finders keepers, losers weepers
Fine feathers make fine birds
Fire is a good servant but a poor master
Following in father's footsteps
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread
Give them an inch and they take a mile
Gift, friend, foe, true lover, journey to go [superstition about the meanings of white marks on nails from thumb to little finger]
Give them enough rope and they'll hang themselves
God made the country and man made the town
Going round the sun to meet the moon

Gone to the dogs [same as 'gone downhill']
Good riddance to bad rubbish
Grab the bull by the horns
Great minds think alike
Great oaks from little acorns grow
Green with envy
Grinning like a Cheshire cat
Grow old gracefully
Hair of the dog that bit you [an alcoholic drink to cure a hangover]
Half a loaf is better than none
Have you swallowed the dictionary?
He/she could sell snow to the Eskimos
He/she could talk the hind-legs off a donkey
He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day
He who laughs last laughs the longest
He who pays the piper calls the tune
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
Honesty is the best policy
Hope springs eternal
Horses for courses [to each his own]
Hunting with the hounds and running with the foxes
I feel like a fish out of water

I feel like the wreck of the Hesperus
If a job's worth doing, its worth doing properly
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again
If it ain't broke don't fix it
If the cap fits wear it
If you can't stand the heat stay out of the kitchen
If you pay peanuts you get monkeys
If you want to live and thrive, let a spider run alive
I'll have your guts for garters!
I'm not as green as I am cabbage-looking
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery
In for a penny, in for a pound
Instant heat and instant cold [a reference to electric fires in the coal-fire era]
It never rains unless it pours
It takes all sorts to make a world
It's always calmest before the storm
It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good
It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all
It's easy to be wise after the event

It's enough to make a saint swear
It's enough to make your blood boil
It's no use crying over spilt milk
It's no use closing the stable door after the horse has bolted
It's not worth the paper it's written on
It's the last straw that broke the camel's back
Its bark is worse than its bite
Jack of all trades, master of none
Just what the doctor ordered
Keeping up with the Joneses
Killing two birds with one stone [solving two problems at once]
Know which side your bread is buttered on
Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone
Laughter is the best medicine
Least said, soonest mended
Let sleeping dogs lie
Life is not a bowl of cherries / bed of roses
Like father, like son
Link fingers and make a wish [when two people say the same thing]
Little children should be seen and not heard [old fashioned parenting]
Live and let live
Look after the pennies and the pounds look after themselves
Look before you leap
Looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses
Looking for a needle in a haystack
Love / money makes the world go round
Love many, trust few, always paddle your own canoe
Mackerel sky; not long wet, not long dry
Make hay while the sun shines
Making a rod for your own back
Making mountains out of molehills
Manners maketh man
Many a true word said in jest
Many hands make light work
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb [or vice versa]
March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers
Marry in haste, repent at leisure
Mind your Ps and Qs ['pleases' and 'thank yous']
Miser, miser, counting gold, what you gonna do when you get old?
Money is the root of all evil
More haste, less speed
Mutton dressed as lamb
Necessity is the mother of invention
Never buy a pig in a poke
Never cast a clout till May be out
Never in a month of Sundays
Never judge a book by its cover
Never look a gift horse in the mouth
New brooms sweep cleanest
No man is an island
No news is good news
No peace for the wicked
No sense, no feeling
North wind doth blow and we shall have snow
Once bitten, twice shy
Once in a blue moon [not very often]
One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told [counting magpies]
One good turn deserves another
One man's meat is another man's poison
One swallow doesn't make a summer
Opening up a can of worms / hornet's nest
Out of sight, out of mind
Out of the frying pan, into the fire [from bad to worse]
Patience has its own reward
Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can, seldom seen in women, never seen in man
Penny for your thoughts?
Penny wise, pound foolish
People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones
Plenty more fish in the sea
Politeness costs nothing
Pot calling kettle black [nothing about race I hasten to add]
Practice makes perfect
Practice what you preach
Pride goes before a fall
Procrastination is the thief of time
Promises, like pie-crust, break easily
Put that in your pipe and smoke it!
Put your money where your mouth is
Rain before seven clears up at eleven
Red sky at night, shepherd's delight; red sky at morning, shepherd's warning
Revenge is a dish best served cold
Rob Peter to pay Paul
Rome wasn't built in a day
Rubbing salt into the wound
Running around like a headless chicken
Rushing around like a blue-a***d fly
Rushing around like a bull in a china shop
Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit
Schooldays are the best days of your life
See a penny, pick it up, and all the day you'll have good luck
Seeing is believing
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil [known as the three wise monkeys]
Self praise is no recommendation
Set a thief to catch a thief
Shooting yourself in the foot
Six of one and half a dozen of the other
Sometimes you've got to be cruel to be kind
Spare the rod and spoil the child [old fashioned parenting again]
Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me
Sticking out like a sore thumb
Still waters run deep
Strike while the iron is hot
Talk of the devil and he's sure to appear
That gets my goat!
That's just the tip of the iceberg
The best presents come in small parcels
The best things in life are free

The best thing since sliced bread
The bigger they come, the harder they fall
The darkest hour is before the dawn
The devil makes work for idle hands
The early bird catches the worm
The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence
The lesser of two evils
The path to true love never runs smooth
The pen is mightier than the sword
The proof of the pudding is in the eating

The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing
The road to hell is paved with good intentions
There's many a slip betwixt cup and lip
There's method in the madness
There's more than one way to skin a cat
There's no smoke without a fire
There's none so blind as those who can't see
They couldn't run a p*** up in a brewery
Throw your rubbish where you throw your love
Till the cows come home [a long time]
Time and tide wait for no man
Tomorrow never
Too many cooks spoil the broth
Too many chiefs and not enough Indians
Touch wood [to prevent misfortune]
Turn over a new leaf
Two faces under one hat
Two wrongs don't make a right
United we stand, divided we fall
Unlucky at cards, lucky in love
Using a sledgehammer to crack a nut
Variety is the spice of life
Walls have ears and windows have eyes
Waste not want not
Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink
We'll climb that hill when we get to it

What a name to go to bed with!
What a sight for sore eyes!
What are you, a man or a mouse? [said to a coward]
What did your last servant die of?
What the eye don't see the heart don't grieve
What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander
When one door closes another door opens
When the wind is in the west, it is at its very best; when the wind is in the east, 'tis neither fit for man nor beast
When in Rome do as the Romans do
Where there's a will there's a way
Where there's muck there's brass
Why put off until tomorrow what you can do today?
You can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink
You can't burn the candle both ends
You can't get blood from a stone
You can't have your cake and eat it too
You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear
You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs
You can't put an old head on young shoulders
You can't see the wood for the trees
You can't teach an old dog new tricks
You can't teach Granny to suck eggs
You look like a drowned rat [wet]
You look like the cat that got the cream
You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards

You wouldn't say boo to a goose [timid]
You're barking up the wrong tree
You've swallowed the dictionary [said to somebody using long words]
Your eyes are bigger than your belly

The South Coast Trunk Road (Part II)

[Last updated January 2020]

Last time I left you stranded near Pevensey in East Sussex. This month we complete the South Coast Trunk Road narrative (purloined from a withdrawn web page of mine) with a large portion of A259.

Nicknamed as the ‘world’s worst trunk road’ by some, this road is of a reasonable standard to begin with, being a long, tree-lined straight (actually some of the gentlest curves imaginable). It then bears smoothly right and climbs, suddenly winding back and forth at the top, before slowing right down to enter unbanity (or ur-banality) for the next ten miles, beginning with Little Common. There is a 30 limit for much of this section.

Bexhill (apparently the home of British motor racing) presents us with one roundabout and a box junction where the A2690 uses a former railway trackbed to bypass the suburbs to reach the A21. Personally I think it would be better utilised by number it as an extension to the A28 as a signed route to Ashford, avoiding the urbanity that is follow on the A259.

So, back to the A259, there is a brief rat-race climb, where the road briefly flirts with dual carriageway around the back of the town centre, quirklily named King Offa Way. Then it plunges back into urbanity with a long, slow straight all the way to the out-of-town entertainment complex that marks the border with Hastings.

After Bulverhythe, the road passes under the railway bridge and finds its way to the sea, running along the promenade of St Leonards, all the way to Hastings, where the greensand escarpment above the old town is ever prominent, crowned with its castle. Apart from Dymchurch and Sandgate on the now-detrunked part of the A259 (Kent), this is the only point that the South Coast route truly hugs the coast.

At the centre of the ‘birthplace of television’, you will pass the pier and fun fair to your right. This epithet is due to John Logie Baird once residing in the town. I have heard that notable births in Hastings include Suggs (of the band Madness) and funny person, Jo Brand.

Beyond a completely pointless roundabout, you will pass the old, black, wooden fishing sheds. The A259 then dives inland for a sustained climb of almost a mile through the suburban housing, to Ore. Trumped ambitiously as ‘Ore Village’, the road forms the main shop-lined street here, and a short climb later, it presents the motorist with breath-taking views before its steep descent.

There used to a crawler lane all the way up the hill for traffic coming the opposite way. This has been shortened in recent years – maybe an attempt at traffic calming!

Beyond Guestling, the road narrows, then winds, then narrows some more, and regains its confidence for a mile or so before Icklesham, which has a windmill. The road regains momentum again beyond this pleasant village, with an impressive descent followed by the resulting climb to Winchelsea – Britain’s oldest ‘new town’, laid out in a grid pattern in the 13th century – well worth a visit and often quoted as ‘England’s smallest town’. Spike Milligan is buried in the churchyard, with 'I told you I was ill' in Gaelic etched on his stone (the same phrase in Engish being deemed too irreverent!).

The A259 has no such interest, and passing one of the three stone archways, it drops steeply down the wooded hillside with a sudden hairpin-bend at the bottom. After a bumpy ‘risk of grounding’ undulation, it uses straight lines along the banks of the Royal Military Canal to plot its narrow route across the marshes to Rye, a larger town which successfully contorts the A259 by 180 degrees to cross the River Tillingham, before hiding it away between the southern undercliff and its Victorian terraces. The Rye town model in the tourist office is a fascinating glimpse of the town's history.

After another mini-roundabout and a narrow bridge over the River Rother, the road streaks purposefully in a dead-straight line out onto the vast expanses of Romney Marsh – totally flat, pastoral, grazing land which remains so for the next 13 miles of our route. This speedy beginning is deceptive - at East Guldeford there's a chicane between two level crossings, and two right-angle bends follow, first right and then left, where we cross the border into Kent.

The Cheyne Court wind-farm is ever present here. After two more right-angle bends, the A259 remembers that it is a trunk road, widening and straightening out, through-passing Brookland with a 50 limit and roundabout. It used to run through the pretty High Street, sadly now devoid of basic amenities, however Brookland's church is worth a visit as its steeple is on the ground! You will barely notice the level crossing as you speed towards Brenzett – the transport hub of the marsh.

The next section is a real ‘rags to riches’ story. From the 2070’s humble beginnings as a B road from New Romney to Ashford, it has now usurped the Brenzett to Folkestone section of the A259, which has been detrunked, due to being a predominantly urban crawl through a series of coastal towns and villages.

The new route is a top-grade single carriageway to Ashford. The road has even been recommended for speed trails by motorcycle magazines – not advised! The terrain is completely flat, passing the hamlet of Snave towards the gently curving section that climbs the clay hills around Hamstreet – worth a detour for its typically Kentish weather-board buildings, and once featured on a set of UK postage stamps. We cross the Royal Military Canal again as we climb onto the ridge of clay hills. The canal was built as a barrier against a feared attack from Napoleon and is the UK's third longest defensive structure.

Beyond this village, the road is almost motorway-like, although still a single carriageway, with five bridges and only one further junction. It climbs through forest which was once part of the great forest of Anderida which covered the whole of the Weald. The picture at the top of the page is of this section. Our road then follows the railway line dead-straight across flat farmland until the roundabout serving the sprawling southern estates of Ashford.

A mile later, the A2070 reaches another roundabout and enters a brief 50 limit, to spiral up sharply onto the dual carriageway Southern Orbital road. This is now the land of business parks, and it is due to become much more urbanised as time goes on, with the proposed expansion of Ashford. Within two miles, you will cross another two roundabouts, taking the dual carriageway to junction 10A on the M20 which opened in 2019 which is where our trunk route ends, as the M20 steals its thunder towards Folkestone and Dover. It's been emotional!

The South Coast route as described is no longer used as a general east-west route, with most patrons opting for the M20, M26, M25 and a suitable conduit southward (M23/A3/M3/A303). Although efforts have been made to improve some parts of this road (Brighton bypass/Polegate bypass/Hamstreet bypass), it is hoped by many locals that no full-scale upgrade of the entire route occurs. In the interest of the countryside that remains along this varied route, they may just have a point.

The South Coast Trunk Road (Part I)

This latest blog is extracted from a web-page I used to run for road enthusiasts (yes, there really is such a thing!). It concerns a 222-mile-long blast from the past - The South Coast Trunk Road, although it it predominantly the eastern half that I am looking at here. I removed the page as I no longer travel the route often enough to keep the narrative updated, so here, preserved in aspic is the route as it was in 2011.

Apart from the odd section that has been dragged kicking and screaming into the modern age (such as the Brighton bypass), it is a remnant of the era of long distance travel without motorways. Formerly known as the Folkestone to Honiton trunk route, it has since commandeered the A2070 to Ashford instead, although the road signs from Hastings to the Kent village of Brenzett still give Folkestone as the end destination.

The route begins as the A35, climbing steeply out of the valley as it leaves the town of Honiton and conveys us to Bere Regis, via the attractive thatch-cottage village of Wilmington and three bypasses, namely Axminster, Bridport and Dorchester. This section is mostly single carriageway. The landward side of Golden Top, the highest cliff on the south coast, can be glimpsed before Bridport.

At Bere Regis the A31 takes over and continues to Cadnam, becoming a dual carriageway around Ferndown and Ringwood, where holiday traffic from Bournemouth joins us for a fern-lined sprint across the New Forest.

Before long the mighty M27 subsumes the role, and our route is now the proud owner of six lanes and a hard-shoulder. The most striking moment during this motorway section (apart from the prices in the service station) is passing a yacht-filled marina between Southampton and Portsmouth.

Some miles later, after bypassing Fareham, Portsmouth harbour is visible on the right-hand-side, as the motorway descends past terraces of houses stacked up along the hillside. This is where our 'narrative proper' begins - the M275 feeds in, expanding the road, now relegated to A-road status, to eight lanes, until the departure of the A3(M) for London. The water to the right is Langstone Harbour.

Beyond Havant, the terrain is mainly flat and the A27 gently curves as it bypasses the villages of Emsworth, Southbourne, Nutbourne, Walton, Fishbourne and Bosham, which many a schoolboy will know a naughty limerick about. Signs appear every mile counting down the distance to Chichester, the country town of West Sussex.

It is often argued that it is quicker to go through the centre of this cathedral city than to use the bypass, as our route makes quite a meal of going round it, with a succession of roundabouts – the cause of many a queue. It is with a sense of relief that one finally leaves the city’s orbit and streaks towards Worthing. There are three roundabouts punctuating this next section; two at Fontwell bookending a short allegiance with the A29 – a route which is largely comprised of the old Roman road, Stane Street.

Just before Arundel, our road becomes a single carriageway and winds through trees, before a gentle descent. The historic town and its castle are well worth a detour left. Our road then crosses the flood plain of the River Arun, bypassing the town between roundabouts. It then climbs gently, after passing the railway station. The junction beyond this is interesting; one feels as though one is descending onto a motorway via a slip-road. This is where the dualling of the A27 from the east came to an abrupt halt.

The road is now fast again, with some moderate inclines and descents, but soon it’s back to single carriageway for a trawl through the northern suburbs of Worthing – Sompting to be precise. There are two roundabouts bookending another short multiplex, this time with the A24.

Briefly leaving the 40 limit, the road has another quick stab at dual carriageway before it’s time to hit the brakes again for Lancing and several box-junctions with traffic lights.

Once open countryside is reached, the road duals again and strides over the River Adur. These concrete bridges have even been painted by an artist and featured on the Southeast news. We climb steeply onto the South Downs to bypass Shoreham-by-Sea, Hove and Brighton via a series of scenic ups and downs. There’s a glimpse of Shoreham before the climb into a short tunnel under the hills. The road resembles an expedient roller coaster ride, until it is rejoined by its former self at Falmer, the site of the University of Sussex and Brighton and Hove Albion's football ground. We then descend into a valley, with trees in between the two carriageways hiding vehicles coming the opposite way.

The next town is Lewes – the historic county town of East Sussex - well worth a quick detour and famed for its annual bonfire-night pageant where effigies of famous figures are burnt, as well as its own currency – the Lewes pound – designed to keep trade within the town.

The dual carriageway road strides across another flood plain (River Ouse) between the two roundabout. An interesting fact is that when the river flooded the town's Harveys brewery, the beer was trapped and fermented for much longer than usual. This extra strong ale was then bottled and sold as Ouse booze!

The A26, joins us from a tunnel beneath the chalk escarpment, and after a short climb and descent (with crawler lane for traffic heading westward) bridging the railway line at the site of the former level crossing, it decides to leave us for Newhaven at Beddingham roundabout.

Beyond this, the trunk route singles again, and this time it is more or less for good. There is a series of long straights across fairly level land, with the stunning South Downs ever to the right (look out for the 'Wilmington man' chalk carving further along).

Just up a lane to the left is the attractive village of Glynde, which has a lot of stone cottages, and Glyndebourne which is famous for its opera. The A27 is muzzled to pass through the village of Selmeston, and it has to halt its flow again after descending to a roundabout near Berwick.

Soon we arrive at Polegate, where our road bears left at the lights and then right at a large roundabout to briefly join the dual carriageway A22 bypass for a mile or so. Our route soon departs this mighty modern conduit which is the main route into Eastbourne - currently England's official sunniest town and the birthplace of TV weatherman Michael Fish – are the two connected?

Unperturbed, the A27 continues in wide, straight, single carriageway style, to meet its demise at Pevensey – a pleasant village with a castle. William the Conqueror’s famed landing-place is nearby. All the South Coast trunker will see though, is a large roundabout where the A259 takes hold of the baton and presses on to Bexhill.

And that's where you will leave us for the moment. The stunning conclusion (Part II) is among the blogs on the right hand side of your screen - go check it out!