A RARE NOTE OF SYMPATHY..

It is indeed most unusual for me to have any sympathy for politicians but today I must make an exception in the case of Ben Wallace, MP, who happens to be the Minister of State for Security and Economic Crime.   And it was he who was put up in front of the television cameras this morning in response to the news coming out of Salisbury that, yet again, two people have been taken critically ill as a result of supposed contact with the nerve agent Novichok.

He appeared on the BBC Breakfast programme around 7.30 this morning and was `interviewed` by Middlesbrough`s answer to Gracie Fields, one Steph McGovern, whilst being looked on by the insufferably smug Naga Munchetty.   The `interview` didn`t go well - the questions were all the usual BBC aggressive assumptions and Ben Wallace was hardly given time to answer before being interrupted but to be fair he managed to keep his composure and deliver what appeared to be a measured, considered response to the event in Wiltshire.

Then on to Sky News, coming from outside the police cordon around the house of the couple who had been the victims of this dreadful happening.   Sky`s Sarah Jane Mee conducted yet another assumptive, almost accusative rant along the lines of "How could the Government allow this to happen again?"  Once again, Mr. Wallace responded with the quiet dignity that his position demands and put the Government`s position as clearly as he was allowed.

Now it`s not often I feel sympathy for politicians but I did on this occasion when once again the broadcast media take to hectoring rather than attempting to extract whatever truth may be there to be extracted, never mind any pretence of balance, all of which would have left viewers with perhaps a clear understanding of what is a deeply disturbing situation.

IT`S NOT THAT FAR...

One of our New Forest visits reminded me - and I`m not quite sure why because the contrast could not have been greater - of one of the lyrics from the wonderful but sorely missed Kirsty McColl.   "From an uptown apartment to a knife on the A-train, it`s not that far.......from the sharks in the penthouse to the rats in the basement it`s not that far"....and so on.

And our visit to Boldrewood on a mid summer weekend afternoon was perhaps not the best time to go - car park full, all those people determined to get away from it all only to find themselves surrounded by all those people.   And on our way back to our probably illegally parked car, I spotted some rising smoke from the inevitable barbecue.  This photo I took gives a flavour of what a summer barbie in the New Forest might look like.......

But if you take the trouble to walk away from all that you can find an area set aside for deer watching. It`s not that far. The silence is deafening, the mayhem left behind and if you`re patient and lucky, as I was, you might just catch a glimpse of what the Forest is really all about.  Here`s a photo I took of that quiet moment.......

Oh yes - and on the subject of Kirsty McColl`s lyrical song writing, one of her most sad but hopefully predictive lyrics included the line, "Now it`s England 2 Colombia 0 and I know just how those Colombians feel......"    Another reminder of her remarkable genius?  We might find out tomorrow evening.

OUT OF THE FOREST..

Been absent from these pages for a couple of weeks, partly to avoid any flack stemming from my suggestion that we might be going overboard with our collective national mourning - interesting that the flack never arrived.   

Anyway, we had a week in my old stamping ground of Hampshire`s New Forest, scene of my misspent boyhood and it was, as ever, a real treat to revisit those places that I hold dear and which were, I suppose, at least partly responsible for  some aspects of my persona from my formative years.

One of the real pleasures was to go back to Setthorns Inclosure, close to the village of Sway where we were staying.   It`s one of the smaller of the Forest Inclosures but it always appeals as one with genuine forest trails among spectacular trees.  Above is a photo I took just as we were coming out of the forest where it gives way to the open heathland.    Please click on the photo for a better image.

THERE WAS A TIME..

Went to the local Tesco supermarket this morning for our weekly shop.  As we drifted aimlessly around the aisles a tannoy announcement informed the customers and staff that, at 12.00 noon there would be a two minutes silence in memory of those who lost their lives in the Grenfell Tower disaster exactly one year ago today.

Now I don`t want to be misunderstood here because I have every sympathy for those who were killed on that dreadful night and for the genuine grief suffered by their relatives and friends, along with those who survived the fire and whose lives have been severely affected by what happened.

And, of course, I didn`t mind my retail progress being interrupted for a moment or two of quiet reflection.   But it did just make me wonder whether, as a nation, we have a tendency to dwell perhaps a little too much on these tragic events, almost to the point of revelling in a kind of national outpouring of collective grief. 

As ever there have been hours of TV, radio and acres of print media devoted to this most poignant anniversary and I begin to wonder whether all of that is really helping the friends and relatives of those who were lost to come to terms with it all - or whether it is perpetuating their misery yet further.

There have been times in the past - and I have lived through some of them - when as a nation  faced with calamity on an enormous scale, we used to dust ourselves off and just get on with it?

I`ll shut up and go away for a while, you`ll be pleased to learn.

A DAY TO REMEMBER...

This is Dudley, our new golden retriever.  He won`t take the place of Barney or Henry or any of our previous five retrievers but he will be welcomed into our home, our family, our community and our village when he joins us in a couple of weeks` time.   On Saturday we made the journey down to the New Forest where we had to choose which puppy to have from the adorable litter.  We were left with a choice between two and it was difficult to choose between them - I think we would happily have had both - but in the end we chose this one;  I`m sure you can see why.  

We then went on to revisit one or two places that are a little bit special, well to me anyway.   On the way we drove through some of the open heathland areas of the New Forest and I caught this picture of  a new foal and its mum which kind of sums up what the forest is all about:-

Then on to Lepe on Hampshire`s south coast.  I still recall that when I was about five years old in 1944 walking to Lepe beach from the house my mother and I were staying in with relatives during the war.  It was the first time I had ever seen the sea and it was at the time of the build-up to D-Day in June 1944.  I still remember the hordes of American trucks driving through the village and the troops throwing packets of sweets to us urchins as they drove through en route to Lepe where the Mulberry harbours had been constructed.   These days Lepe is a busy country park but still has the views out to the Isle of Wight.  Here`s a photo of that timeless view I took on what was truly a day to remember:-

(As ever, please click on photos for better images)

NOT COMPULSORY...

I`ve long been an admirer of church architecture and the details you find inside even the smallest and most remote places of worship - for example, the bench ends at Holbeton in south Devon; the crossover at St. Anthony`s church on the Roseland; and the stained glass windows at St. Neot, all of which I have visited, enjoyed and been impressed with the skill and dedication that has gone into producing such treasures.

And arguably the most remarkable and attractive church I have come across is another one on Cornwall`s Roseland Peninsula.   Now being of sound mind and body (well, mind anyway) I have serious reservations about the authenticity of supreme beings - any number of religions seem to produce any number of allegedly supreme beings - and if there is one or even loads of them, then you have to ask why there is so much suffering in this world of ours.   But despite my obvious atheism or agnosticism (if I get up there and discover it was true after all, I`ll be the first to apologise) my admiration for the ambience of churches is enforced each time I return to St. Just in Roseland.

Here`s a photo I took on my last visit there - you can see what I mean, I hope - and perhaps agree that it is not always compulsory to become a member in order to enjoy what`s on offer:-

(As ever, please click on photo for better image)

SUCH A PERFECT DAY...

High summer has finally arrived here in our Kentish enclave - yesterday was dry, warm, sunny - all the things you need  at this time of the year.  We had a visit from middle son and six-year old grandson and in the afternoon we wandered down to our village green which has a play area for the children, room to kick a football around and a tinkling stream flowing through it.

I took this photo whilst grandson was invading the swings and roundabouts and it occurred to me that we, as grandparents, were having a good day, having also seen eldest son, our daughter-in-law and our two grown up granddaughters in the morning.  And in the evening had a chat on the phone with youngest son who lives abroad.

Such a perfect day - I`m glad I spent it with you.

HERE WE GO AGAIN..

It`s a few weeks now since we had to say goodbye to our wonderful ten year old golden retriever, Barney.  The years we had with him were filled with companionship, loyalty and love.   He was our fifth golden retriever and came after Holly, Botham, Rupert and Henry, all of whom gave us the same enjoyment as did Barney.

For us at least we discovered a pattern of life which meant that as soon as our three sons left home we started getting retrievers and it has gone on ever since.  We also discovered that - again for us at least - our way of dealing with the loss of each of them has been to go and get another.  And so, we have the prospect of a retriever puppy joining us in about a month`s time.   

Mrs. Snopper, who is really the expert in these things, located a reputable breeder at Fordingbridge in the New Forest.  We visited, liked what we saw, paid the deposit and have received regular updates as to the progress the puppies are making.  In a week`s time we will be visiting again, this time to choose which puppy we might have.  And it`s at that point that the realities of having a retriever are brought home.  

It`s a bit like choosing a football club to support, the reality of which is that it is the club which chooses you rather than the other way around.  And we noticed, especially with Barney, that the puppy chooses you - they come up to you an check you out and hopefully like what they see.  

We`ve been thinking about a name for new puppy and had a number of suggestions but we might have settled on Dudley.  One of my favourite actors was Dudley Foster but I`m attracted to the idea that new puppy and I can walk our village streets and, for those of a certain age and long memories,  the two of us might be known as Pete and Dud.   I just hope Greta Bloody Garbo doesn`t turn up.

Quite a day of sport yesterday, not just the dog ends of the football season but also the determined fight back from Dom Bess and Jos Buttler for England in what still seems to be a plucky defeat for England in the first test against Pakistan at Lord`s.

Then there was Chris Froome coming from way back to take the lead in the Giro Italia which ends today with a traditional procession to the finish line.  And Froome will be making cycling history as the first Briton to hold the tours of France, Spain and Italy at the same time.  I fervently hope that the intervention of chemists will not take the edge of his historic achievement.

But  back to yesterday`s footy.  In the morning the announcement came that former ManUre, Real Madrid and Southampton legend Mark ("Sparky") Hughes had penned a three year contract to become Saints first team manager - the title is significant as the last two incumbents have merely been first team coaches.  That didn`t work so it looks as if Sparky has control of transfers rather than simply coaching what he has been given which I hope will bring mid-table obscurity rather than another relegation battle.  We know our place.

And in the afternoon there was the play off final between Fulham ("There`s only one f in Fulham") and Aston Villa to decide which of them gets into the Premier League next season.  I was pleased that Fulham won 1-0 for two or three reasons.  First, they deserved to - their style and quality of football deserves to be played on a higher stage;  next it meant that the serially unpleasant John ("The Leg End") Terry would not make a return to the top flight;  and lastly that the Fulham team included Matt Targett who has been on loan to them from Southampton for much of the season.  Yet another of the Saints` academy graduates and a local Southampton lad.  I wonder if he will stay at Craven Cottage or return to the beautiful south.

And last night we had the Champions League final between Liverpool and Real Madrid.  The Liverpool squad included Sadio Mane, Dejan Lovren, Virgil van Dyke, Nathaniel Clyne and Adam Lallana - it would have been more of their `captures` from Southampton had Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain not been injured.  And it was yet another former Saints player, Gareth Bale, who came on to score two goals for Real which sealed Liverpool`s fate.

Seems to me that there is no escape from the world wide influence that is Southampton Football Club.

BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY...

I may have misread it but I thought I saw a report the other day that you can now ask Alexa to respond to  religious requests.  It seems that if you ask nicely Alexa will provide you with a `prayer for the day` and even recite grace for you before you tuck in to a hearty meal.

It`s a curious business, especially as we now seem to have a piece of artificial semi-intelligence at our disposal to enable some kind of virtual communication with an omnipotent being who may or may not actually exist anyway.

Phasers on stun Mr. Sulo.

IS IT SAFE TO COME OUT NOW?

Having shown great  initiative over the past few days I can report that I managed to avoid just about anything to do with the royal wedding - couldn`t bring myself to watch any of of it on TV although it was hard to avoid things like news bulletins, highlights programmes and a seemingly endless array of references to the great event even on programmes that were supposedly nothing to do with it. 

And for the first time in years I refused to buy a Sunday newspaper in the hope of avoiding the 32-page supplements and all the other fawning nonsense that surrounds royal occasions.  Well, there wasn`t going to be  much football to read about which was a pity as I thought the achievements of teams such as Thatcham Town in the FA Vase final and Brackley in the FA Trophy final deserved at least a bit of coverage.

So I wondered if this morning it was safe to come out now, only to discover a couple of yet more troubling bits of nonsense.  We now have a Duchess of Sussex - yeah, right - who has pronounced herself to be "a woman and a feminist."   Well I knew about the first bit but the second bit made me wonder whether I should not declare to the world that I am a man and a masculinist.   Or maybe I should crawl back under my stone until it really has all died down.

STREET PARTY ?

It might be a bit late to organise one but I think we should have a street party to celebrate this momentous event.

After all, the fact that the Saints managed to avoid relegation by the skin of their teeth is surely something to celebrate.  To be fair......

MY GARDEN`S COMING ALONG NICELY...

  

(Please click on photos for better images)

THANK GOODNESS THAT`S OVER...

And so another Premier League season comes to an end and for us Saints fans it has been a season to forget - almost.   Just a month or so ago I was convinced that we were heading for relegation having endured a dreadful run of results, languishing close to the foot of the table and with an air of despondency and almost resigned acceptance surrounding the club and its supporters.

And then, at long last, the arrival of former Saints player Mark Hughes and his managerial backroom team began to have an impact.  The team became more organised, more determined, more energised and a string of encouraging displays gave the faintest glimmer of hope that survival might still be possible.  

The turning point was the scrappy victory last Tuesday evening away at Swansea which left Saints needing to avoid a catastrophic defeat to Manchester City (and Swansea to win their last game) to guarantee at least one more season in the Cinderella world of the Premier League.  

Yesterday, Swansea duly lost their game with Stoke and, true to form, Saints held out until the fourth minute of added time before conceding the goal which gave the points to City.  And so  my bum has stopped squeaking and the Saints live to fight another day.  But thank goodness that`s all over and the respite of Summer has arrived.  

If anything illustrated the truth behind the above cliche, then it must surely have been the events of yesterday at the extreme ends of the self-styled and allegedly beautiful game.

Now of course, as a Saints fan, I was over the moon with the 1-0 win at Swansea`s Liberty Stadium last night which puts the Saints tantalisingly close to ensuring Premier League survival for another season.  The hope is that, on Sunday, Swansea don`t beat already relegated Stoke 4-0 and the Saints don`t lose to already champions Manchester City 6-0 - if those events or a similar combination of mishaps come to pass then those dancing in the streets of Southampton last night will be brought back to earth with a huge bump.  The fat lady is warming up but que sera, sera is still just about alive.

So much for the `top end` of the game and in direct contrast I learned yesterday that after 125 years, the Maidstone and District Saturday League is to close.  Efforts to attract more teams have failed, leaving the committee with no choice but to call time on the oldest local league in the country.  Now, in the mists of time gone by, I played in the Saturday League for Maidstone Dolphins at a time when it was fiercely competitive and had any number of `divisions` - `The Fins` played in Division 3b, which was really Division 7,  such was the popularity of the local league all those years ago.

It was a different game in the Saturday League back then, of course - all Dubbin, Sloan`s liniment and half an orange and a fag at half time and the `facilities` were, shall we say, quaint.  I recall playing away at Frittenden when the sheep were herded off the pitch just before the game, leading to a game more reminiscent of ballet than football.  But it was fun, enjoyable and I am sorry to see the local league disappear even though the memories linger on.

But, you win some and lose some - Kipling`s twin impostors still prevail and the game of life`s two halves goes on.

ONE OF THOSE DAYS...

Another glorious day with the sun shining and a warm feel to it.  And then it occurs to me just what the day might hold for me and I feel a bit like Charley Brown.

A couple of weeks ago we were in Cornwall and one morning I woke up and couldn`t hear anything out of one ear.  Finally, this afternoon, I have managed to negotiate an appointment with a practice nurse to have it syringed so I hope my hearing will be restored later today.  Pardon?

Then off to put the car in dock to sort out some nasty scratches.  As we were leaving our holiday house in Padstow, the rain was lashing down, visibility was pretty poor and as I reversed down the sloping drive I just caught the rear door panel on a concrete post.  So off to the menders - again!!

And this evening my beloved Saints take on Swansea at their home ground in a decider for which of the two teams gets relegated from the Premier League.   Squeaky bum time indeed but I just know that, after being a Saints fan for well over 70 years, it will probably end in tears as the footballing Gods, incompetent refereeing and hotel cancellations all seem to conspire against us.   

So, all in all, just one of those days but I still count my blessings knowing deep down that my plight is so much more agreeable than that of many others.   Que sera, sera.

HIS AND HERS...

One of the best walks along the Cornish coastpath is from West Pentire, just south of Crantock, down to Polly Joke and up to Kelsey Head.  From there you can look across to the seal colony on the island known as The Chick and also look out to Carter`s Rocks, off Holywell Bay.   And along the way you pass a series of small coves, like this one:-

(Please click on photo for better image.)

You quite expect to see Ross Poldark and his chums doing a bit of smuggling or even, having cast his scythe to one side, Ross raising the female temperature by stripping off and having a dip in the sea.  One evening we spent time in a local hostelry - one of the inescapable Rick Stein`s - in St. Merryn and, feeling the call of nature, I visited the `conveniences,` where it was encouraging to see that the door to the ladies was marked `Demelzas` and the gentlemen`s was marked `Rosses.`  No, I wasn`t sure it worked either.

It sure was a bad week.   Bad enough losing Barney on Tuesday, since when we have been back to the veterinary hospital to collect Barney`s ashes and hand in yet another claim form on his insurance.   

That was the second claim in a matter of a few weeks and I had a bit of bother with the insurance company over the first claim we made following Barney`s illness which began in January.  Hopefully that might now be resolved but we wait to see.

It`s been a long winter with more than a few hiccups along the way - in just the last few weeks we had to buy a new fridge freezer, a new tap for the kitchen and a new vacuum cleaner - the old one conked out following a few years  hoovering up dog hairs (the new one doesn`t have that problem - yet.) 

I had a visit to the local hospital following damage caused to my hand as a result of yet another senior bungle on my part, which left me seriously impressed with our NHS service.  Seems to me you only hear about the bad things concerning the NHS - all the media are anxious to report alleged `failings`, targets missed, that kind of thing and we don`t hear enough about the good things, of which there are many and for which we should be more grateful than we are.

And to end on yet another troublesome note on my malum sabbati (the Queen had an annus horribilis but I`ll settle for just a bad week), the Saints have continued their downward spiral out of the Premier League - yesterday conspiring to lose 3-2 to Chelsea, having been 2-0 up after 70 minutes.   That constituted the fourth league game in a row where they have conceded three goals and survival hopes now seem dim.  Having won just one league game in the last 20, they are now expected to win at least three in the last five.   It ain`t gonna happen, to be fair, but at least the sun is shining today for a change.  But will it last?

TIME TO SAY GOODBYE..

About five years ago, we were on holiday in south Devon , mainly walking the coast path and one day we walked the Revelstoke Drive in and around Noss Mayo.  It`s a quite spectacular walk around the banks of the River Yealm and along the coastline with tremendous views of the open ocean - on a clear day you can just make out the Eddystone lighthouse on the distant horizon.  

The last part of the walk is pretty much all down hill back to the village of Noss Mayo but if you turn off the main path down to the left opposite the old coastguard cottages, you can find a hidden beach which is quiet, peaceful and isolated.  We made our way down the steep slope to the rocky shoreline and decided to have our lunch there whilst taking in the tranquility of our surroundings.

And it was there that I took this photo of Barney who, like us, was glad of the rest after the long walk.   It`s one of many photos we have taken of Barney over the years, not only at home but also at all the places we have been together - Cornwall, Devon, the New Forest and here in Kent and wherever we have been, Barney has been a quiet, peaceful, faithful friend and companion.

So you can imagine how devastated we are today that Barney was put to sleep yesterday afternoon following a series of medical problems in the last few months.   Yesterday he became very ill and his prospects were not good and so we took the difficult decision to say goodbye to him, knowing that it was the kindest decision to make for him, although it has left us in bits as a result. 

Our grief is a mixture of heartfelt sorrow for ourselves that Barney has gone, but coupled with real sadness for him that he has had so much to contend with over the recent past and that his life could not have been even longer and happier.  We should be used to it by now - Barney was our fifth golden retriever - but if anything it gets harder. 

On the right hand side of this post and down a bit, there`s a list of `labels` and if you click on the one `barney` there are 41 posts which form the chronicles of Barney over his nine and a half happy years with us.  And that`s what I will remember - a happy dog and a gentle, loving, loyal friend.

BLESSED BE ST. ENODOC....

......Blessed be the wave

Blessed be the springy turf

We pray, pray to thee.

Ask for our children

All happy days you gave

To Ralph, Vasey, Alastair, 

Biddy, John and me.

When I started this blog back in 2006 one of my very first posts was about the late Sir John Betjeman and his love of Trebetherick and his resting place of St.Enodoc church, lost among a golf course and the sand dunes of the Camel Estuary.  So, having come full circle, I`m beginning to think it might be a good time to draw a line in the sand on this blog and if nothing else to leave it having achieved at least a semblance of elegant closure.   

PASSING CLOUD.....

One of the places I never grow tired of visiting is Polly Joke, aka Porth Joke on the north Cornish coast.  The name apparently comes from the Cornish Pol-Lejouack, meaning Jackdaw Cove and it`s one of those more remote places - you have to walk a while to get to it and, when you do, there are no `facilities` so you have to fend for yourself, which can on occasions be a test of ingenuity.

When the tide is out, there are a number of caves exposed in the cliff face which I can`t resist exploring and on one of those adventures I found myself inside one of the caves looking out and saw this passing cloud which seemed to match the symmetry of the rock face.......

MEETING POINT....

A few years ago now we stayed at Hope Cove on the south coast of Devon.   A quiet place, quite difficult to get to down the Devon lanes and life seemed to go at its own pace.  One morning I managed to catch these two local residents meeting up to put the world to rights.   What a lovely place to meet friends in the morning......

A LABOUR OF LOVE...

One of Cornwall`s more enchanting, yet largely ignored places is Penpol in the parish of Feock way down on the south coast.  Not even the south west coast path bothers to include itself in this particular bit of coastline and yet Feock itself is full of interest.   For example, the church is one of those rarities where the tower is detached from the church itself and locally there are remnants of the past maintained in modern day road names which retain the prefix `La` such as La Vague and La Feock - deriving from `lan` - a place of worship in olden days.

Anyway when we stayed at Penpol last year our early morning walkies with Barney took us along Penpol Creek and it was there that we came across this gentleman busily (well, dreckly) repairing his boat.   It was indeed a labour of love.......

A GENTLE REMINDER....

As from now on the days grow longer than the nights I know the summer will fly past before they begin to dwindle down to a precious few; but it was encouraging to see the sun bright in the morning sky today and it reminded me of days spent along the River Yealm in south Devon when we used to wander around the Revelstoke Drive and take in the peace and timeless tranquility of scenes such as this......... 

All I need is a boat really.......

SPRINGTIME ?

Today is allegedly the first day of Spring, although it doesn`t feel like it with snow still on the ground, frosty nights and gloomy outlooks.   So for today`s photo I have gone back to one I took in Springtime a couple of years ago.   It shows the harbour at Portscatho in Cornwall - a real favourite place of mine - with Valerian in the foreground, the expanse of Gerrans Bay and in the distance the beaches at Carne and Pendower leading to the majestic grandeur of Nare Head........     

 I could do with being there right now.......

 A PICTURE PAINTS.....

Been looking back over my old pictures that I`ve taken in recent years and posted either on Flickr or Ipernity and thought it might be a pleasant change from all the stuff going on in our troubled world to share some of them on here.   To start with, here`s one I took on the coast path in Cornwall showing an `interesting` sky above St.Ives Bay.......

I took this as long ago as October 2012 - maybe my photography has improved a bit since then but it`s still a nice image and reminds me of yet another inspiring visit to that wonderful part of the world.......

So, at last Southampton FC have finally decided to part company with manager Mauricio Pellegrino and his assistant chums.   His record of just five wins in his 30 Premier League games in charge and just one solitary win in the last 17 speaks for itself.   For us Saints fans the only thing that has really puzzled us is why, oh why, has it taken this long when the writing was on the wall back in October.

Now, of course, on a human level it is always unfortunate when people lose their jobs and despite the fact that MoPo and his mates are doubtless handsomely rewarded for their collective failure, there is still some sympathy for Mauricio who is clearly a decent man who did his best but sadly lacked the kind of drive and initiative that life in the Premier League demands.

So, next please - and attention is now drawn to the next appointment as Saints manager.  I`m not sure the job is as attractive as it was when someone like Ronald Koeman took over - there are just eight games remaining which include fixtures against Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester City and the likes of Leicester and West Ham.  West Ham is our next away League game and could well be played behind closed doors given the Hammers` misdemeanours last weekend.   Before that we have the FA Cup quarter final on Sunday away at Wigan, so whoever comes in to the Saints hot seat faces a very daunting challenge with not much time to address it.

Mark Hughes (a former Saints player) is tipped for the job along with Marco Silva, late of Watford, also the current Fulham manager whose name escapes me but is largely unpronounceable and then there is another former Saints player in Graham Potter who has impressed since dragging Osterlunds from the fourth tier of Norwegian football to their recent stab at the Europa League.  

In these days of gender equality, however, Saints now have the chance to make a real statement by appointing someone of charm, experience and elegance who will represent the club as a modern, forward looking, outward going, all inclusive outfit - Joanna Lumley would do nicely, as would Darcey Bussell or Joanna Trollope.  Given the other worldliness, the parallel universe, the fantasy land the Premier League has become, I can`t see why not.

Well, yesterday was a case in point - just one of those days.  It all started with high hopes and keen anticipation only for it to end in disappointment and frustration.   Now I should be used to those feelings, having been a Saints fan for over 70 years and, of course, I have witnessed my club in a far more perilous state than it is at the moment - being at the bottom of League One (Division Three really) and minus ten points following administration, for example.

But after years of clawing back from that, there was every hope that Southampton might finally become an established club in the Premier League.  But it`s all gone horribly wrong and yesterday`s embarrassing 3-0 defeat away at Newcastle confirmed the real prospect of relegation at the end of the season.   Yes, there are eight games left to salvage the situation but yesterday`s abject performance, along with the daunting fixtures that lie ahead, do not bring much hope of survival.   It`s almost reached the stage whereby relegation might actually come as a merciful release.

And away from the Saints, England lost the rugby international away in Paris, with the French inflicting the second straight defeat on England, following their collapse last time out against resurgent Scotland.   And to add to the gloom, Forest Green Rovers contrived to lose 2-1 at home to Notts County. 
  
So where to look for some consolation?  Well, our street`s local hero Scott ("Buzzin` six pack") Wagstaff was part of the Gillingham team that went to Portsmouth yesterday and came away with an impressive 3-1 win over Saints` traditional rivals in their self-proclaimed fortress of Fratton Park (Krap Nottarf.)  Truro City secured another narrow victory, this time against Bishops Stortford, while Maidstone United also managed a 1-0 win at home to Torquay. 

So maybe it`s not so bad after all and at least I can console myself with the comfort of knowing I`m not a West Ham fan.  

  Picked up the newspaper this morning and, quite rightly, the main headlines were concerned with the attempted murder in Salisbury of a former Russian spy and his daughter.   Other issues appearing on today`s front pages were inevitably concerned with Brexit, which really can`t come quick enough.

But plastered across the top of at least one newspaper was emblazoned the information that `Meghan is baptised into Church of England with holy water from the River Jordan.`  Alongside it was a photo of the said Meghan looking dutifully demure with a fixed grin and eyes like limpid pools gazing into a predictable future.

This private ceremony was conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury at the Chapel Royal, St. James`s Palace and is reported to have marked "an important step in her transformation from divorced Catholic American actress  to future grand-daughter-in-law to the Queen."  Her baptism, with water from the River Jordan from the Royal Family font being poured over Meghan`s head,  was immediately followed by her confirmation, thus overcoming a tricky obstacle in advance of her marriage to Prince Harry in May.

And so another royal family interlude leaves me wondering whether the report was for real, another wind-up, yet another chapter in life`s intriguing fairy tales or the latest in the long line of tales from `You couldn`t make it up.` 

Beam me up, Scotty!

WINTER`S RELENTLESS GRIP..

Well, here we are in early March and we are still held in winter`a relentless grip.   As you can see from the photo I took early this afternoon, there are still enormous problems with the lying snow and the promised thaw seems unbearably slow in coming.

But, of course, these extreme conditions also bring their challenges and I am thinking of mounting an expedition with the help of local adventurers to see if it will be possible to scale the forbidding heights of this particular daunting  challenge.  I did manage to venture out into the foothills on something of a reconnaissance mission and provided the weather conditions don`t worsen, it may be possible to reach the summit at around tea time.

In other weather related mews, Mrs. Snopper and I are still abiding by the advice given by the government, which is to stay warm, have hot drinks and don`t go out unless it`s absolutely necessary.  The roads around here are still very treacherous, as can be seen in my photo, but we did manage to get to Tesco`s this morning to stock up on absolutely essential supplies.   It seems the schools might be open again for those pupils hardy enough to make the journey but, all in all, this winter just seems endless.  It must be nice to live somewhere where you don`t have to face this kind of privation every year, but for now we will battle on and hope that Spring will bring some much needed relief by about Wednesday.   I`ll keep you posted.

This was a bit of my back garden a couple of days ago as we struggle our way through a week dominated by `The Beast from the East` and `Storm Emma.`  Even now as I look out of the window it`s snowing again and it has got me thinking about the experiences I have had with snow over the years.

The first really bad snow I can properly remember was in 1947 - I was seven at the time - and I remember being `sent out to play` in the deep and crisp and even and encouraged to make sure I was home in time for tea.  I still recall being very cold - `shrammed` to use a good old Hampshire description - but it was a memorable introduction to the ravages of severe weather.

My maternal grandfather was `old school` - a pattern maker in the Great Western Railway Works at Swindon and I remember my mother telling me that, when my grandfather and his chums went on a coach trip somewhere, they managed to get as far as Aldbourne on the Wiltshire Downs on their way home when the snow finally defeated them.  So, what did they do?  They got off the coach and walked the eight miles from Aldbourne back to Swindon, mainly by walking along the tops of the hedges, such was the depth of the snow they encountered.   They don`t make `em like that any more.

And on Boxing Day in 1962 in started snowing and the snow and icy conditions went on and on.  We had almost forgotten what grass looked like, as it wasn`t until the very end of March that the weather relented and Spring crept into being.   Our first son was born on 31st March 1963 having had the good sense to remain tucked up in the warm whilst the worst of that winter ran its course.

Maybe this winter hasn`t been so bad after all.  And at least my garden looks as tidy as everyone else`s.