Sure is.   It seems you can now choose your own gender, your own sexual orientation and I read yesterday that there`s a man (maybe he`s something else) in Holland who has won a court battle to reduce his age by 20 years.   Instead of being 60 he`s now officially 40.

So, in keeping with my determination to keep up with the modern world, I would like it to be known that I now wish to be recognised as a 12-year old female lesbian giraffe called Veronica living a carefree life gambolling on the Serengeti Plains fending off the attentions from male giraffes who are in for a big surprise as I munch away at high rise branches.

Well, it`s a strange world we live in so why not?   It`s the same with these so called `hate crimes,` of which there are a number of recent examples, the latest being someone complaining about a TV advert which shows a carrot being chopped up , thus falling in to the definition of `carrotist.`  

Now I`m not sure I actually hate anyone or anything - the BBC comes close, as do Manchester United and Portsmouth but I don`t think I`ve quite crossed the line just yet. I think the trouble is that most people are now frightened to say or do almost anything for fear of offending someone or something, especially as it seems the whole world is so easily offended these days.

Surely our much maligned and overworked police have more pressing matters to deal with than chasing after invented `hate crimes` - chasing the odd burglar or knife-wielding thug might be more useful, on which subject I agree with the notion that the penalties for even carrying any form of offensive weapon should be vastly increased as a more meaningful deterrent.

Sorry if that`s offended you but there are charities and agencies who can offer counselling and advice should you feel the need to get help in getting over my comments above.   I apologise unreservedly for any offence they may have caused. 

///

60 YEARS ON...

This is an interesting photo - for me, anyway.   It shows the old cottages lining St. John`s Street in Hythe.   Sixty years ago it was but a small village on the western shore of Southampton Water and it`s where I spent my boyhood years.   A good place to be growing up - our cottage was just down the road beyond the big white house and we lived there until the early 1950s when BOAC closed their flying boat maintenance base and we had to leave the village for my father to find alternative employment elsewhere.

But the memories of that place and that time stay with me and 60 years on I still look back with fond memories of happy days and good friends, despite the ravages of post-war austerity.   I wasn`t aware of any austerity as such, as I had only ever known how life had been during the war years after which rationing of all kinds of things was still with us.

One of my good friends was William (`Billy`) Scammell, sadly no longer with us but remembered as one of this country`s finest post war poets, editors and critics.   He and I spent those formative years alternating between school, the Solent shore and the New Forest and maybe it was because of those places that we both developed a kind of inbred affection for what was home for us.   Bill went on to encapsulate those feelings in some of his finest work - his collection of published poetry and prose contains references to Hythe that will be familiar to those, like me, who know it so well.

But Bill was about more than sentimentality and some of his poems are concerned with deeper issues.  Perhaps the best illustration I can give is `Remembering the Great War` which has been used for study in degree courses and which, of course, is very relevant as the nation remembers the centenary of the end of the first world war........

Opaque and resonant as sacred texts 
the names alone sound out a litany:
Passchendaele, Ypres, the Somme. Verdun......

Some dropped perfect but for a sweet
smudge of gas - others, dispersing, spanned
earth in the wildest hug.

Men flashed hissing to their elements
like spit gobbed on a stove.  One officer
in nomansland apologised to his troops

behind for lasting in such loud low screams.
Four men unwound their lives to staunch
his uproar - failed, like the concerted knuckles

hammered round his teeth.  Gowned neutrally
for christenings, deaths, history thumbs
its cheap editions, weltering in echoes.

I think of Sassoon`s tall heart, contracting
fiercest love for his own men, one of whom
shot him from excess of zeal;  of Graves`s

stretched contempts.  The fires they grazed rot down
in village squares.  On memory`s floor words rut
and root, nosing blind and ghastly at the tongue.

The photo above was taken from the churchyard of St. John`s church and its bell will surely ring out in solemn remembrance as I was once, only once, honoured to ring it to call Bill and my other boyhood friends to afternoon Sunday school.   That`s what we did on Sunday afternoons all those 60 years ago.   I wonder if it happens nowadays.

Help!!   I`m in a bad place.   Severe depression is overwhelming me.  I need help.

Like most Saints fans, I`m suffering the humiliation of today`s 6-1 drubbing at the hands of Manchester City.   What now for the club I have supported since 1946?  After three years of nonperforming, three years of managerial lunacy, three years of abject recruitment, this season has seen the Saints play 11 games and won only one of them.  

There are growing whispers that manager Mark Hughes may be on his way on the back of this dreadful run of results and although he may now be close to the end of the line, what will assuredly place the final nail in the coffin will be to appoint Big Sam Allardyce to get us out of this hole.   If that happens,it will surely be the end of the line for my continued support.  Anyone but Big Sam.......

And yet, and yet.....it was only a couple of seasons ago that we beat Sunderland 8-2 at St. Mary`s (and look where they are now) and, so far as Manchester City are concerned, I still look wistfully back to the very last game played at their old Maine Road ground, which the Saints won 1-0 thanks to a towering header from Michael Svensson and to finish that season in sixth place.  Those were the days indeed.

Just as well I have Truro City, Forest Green Rovers, AFC Wimbledon and Fort William to fall back on   Oh, hang on a minute.... pass the sal volatile. 

TRUE HEROES....

Not sure why but I`ve always admired the underdog.  Maybe it`s because I`ve been one myself, maybe I have a bit of an aversion to serial winning in whatever aspect of life it may show itself.   I know I should treat Kipling`s triumphs and disasters with equal measure but there is something more attractive, perhaps more romantic, in heroic failure than in triumphal victory.

Anyway, there must be a reason that I find sporting struggles far more interesting ;  why else would I follow the footballing fortunes of Forest Green Rovers, Truro City, even Southampton or, until they finally achieved their ambition to be relegated to Scotland`s Lowland League, East Stirlingshire?   And I have recently become aware of the travails of Fort William Football Club who are propping up the rest of the clubs in the Highland League.   Their picturesque Claggan Park ground, nestling under the lea of Ben Nevis, pictured above, is considered to be the most scenic ground in the whole of the Highland League. .

The club, the only senior one in the West Highlands, was formed in 1974 and draws its players from a wide area including Skye, Inverness, Lochaber, Oban and Speyside.  Moreover, given its location and the fact that most of the other clubs in the league are located as far north as Wick and most of north-east Scotland, their travels for away matches - and for visiting clubs - involve very long journeys. 

In the past 20 seasons, Fort William have finished bottom of the league on 14 occasions, not winning a game in the whole of last season and, indeed, this season seems no different.  So far they have played 16 games, won none, drawn one and lost the other 15.  They have managed to score 10 goals but conceded 115 and they have not been helped by a points deduction which sees them currently on minus eight points having played an `ineligible player` in one of their games - seems a bit harsh given their struggle to put a team on the park.

But they keep going and they do so for the love of the game.  The Rev Richard Baxter, the club's chaplain, says,  "There is a challenge from being so remote from the other clubs.  It is important Fort William are there.   There are good people giving their best to the club, but they are facing pretty challenging circumstances and the more support they get from the community the better."   That support has been enhanced recently following a film being made and appearing on the club`s  Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/FortWilliamFcOfficial/ which is well worth a look as it captures the essence of what the club is all about.

These are the true heroes of football and when you next watch Manchester City, Spurs, Liverpool,even Southampton, spare a thought for the sheer effort and devotion to the cause taking place at the same time in the remoteness of the highlands of Scotland.

(NOTE : To see the Facebook page, highlight the link above, right click and an option appears to `go to....`  click on that option and the page appears.)

A TOUCH OF CLASS...

Like the rest of the football family, we supporters of Southampton FC also mourn the tragic loss of Leicester City`s excellent owner, Vichai Srivaddhanaprabha, in the horrendous helicopter crash the other evening.   Of course, this awful event has been felt not only by the fans of Leicester City but also by the city itself which has joined together to pay tribute to a man who gave so much to the football club and to the city as a whole.   Quite properly, tonight`s scheduled cup game between Leicester and Southampton has been postponed - I can`t imagine anyone associated with either club has a football match at the forefront of their mind - it almost seems irrelevant now,

This has brought back equally sad memories for us Saints fans as we lost our own highly respected owner, Markus Liebherr, who passed away suddenly following a heart attack eight years ago, having rescued the club from near extinction and overseen its rise from League One back to the Premier League.   So we feel for Leicester supporters perhaps a little more deeply than fans of other clubs - we`ve been through that experience and we know what it`s like.

I remember going to St. Mary`s Stadium just after Markus had left us and was amazed at the floral tributes left by fans with sadness and thanks for all he had done for the club.  Here`s a photo of that occasion which is so clearly replicated now outside Leicester`s King Power Stadium ....

Both represent the warmth of feeling for the respective club owners and the true sense of loss  felt by supporters of both clubs.  Now,  I don`t wish to enter a note of irreverence here but I vividly recall seeing a red plastic duck - the kind you might have in a bath - placed firmly among the floral bouquets in honour of Markus and it occurred to me at the time that one bereft Saints fan had woken up to the news of Markus`s death and decided that he or she must dash down to the shops, buy a red plastic duck and place it among the floral tributes outside St. Mary`s. 

I`m sure it was well meant but I suspect the tributes outside the stadium in Leicester might have perhaps a little more of a touch of class about them?  Or maybe there`s not much demand for blue plastic ducks in Leicester.

From our golf correspondent.......

It has been many months since I last reported on Snopper`s golfing antics due to the fact that he has apparently been occupied with other more pressing matters.   So it was with a mixture of surprise and incredulity that he was spotted the other day taking on the notoriously easy 9-hole course at nearby Poult Wood.

He seemed to have prepared himself well for this tentative re-entry into the royal and ancient game (reports confirmed that he had loaded up his trolley with enough golf balls to ensure he shouldn`t run out) although it must be said that his deportment and course management were perhaps more a little cordon noir than befitting that of a style guru and fashion icon.

No matter, it`s the game that matters and, having lost just two of his precious golf balls on the first three holes, he began to re-awake his slumbering mojo and played reasonably over the rest of his round which included his usual repertoire of deft touches, wild swings and a healthy slice of good fortune, all of which might encourage him to continue into the coming winter months.

So it was good to see the return of this shambling figure, now well into his 80th year,  back in the swing of things and, as an impartial critic observed from the gallery, "That`s one small  step for Snopper, one giant leap for mediocrity."

Years ago I had a bit of a dabble in stocks and shares but it didn`t go well, so I bailed out although I held on to my paltry amount of shares in the now defunct Southampton Leisure Holdings Ltd, the then parent company of Southampton FC.  That all went pear shaped as well, so these days I don`t normally follow the ups and downs of the stock markets.

But it seems that the FTSE, the DAX and other leading markets have got the jitters again.  No great surprise except that the reason for these latest wobbles is all down to the way the Italian government and, of course, the EU Commission are behaving.

Not too long ago, there was a general election in Italy which saw the rise of the more populist, largely Euro-sceptic parties on the promise of spending more lire on mainly social issues such as increasing wages for the most poorly paid.  No wonder they romped home.

Now, as is the custom in the EU each member state is obliged to present its proposed budget for `approval` by the EU Commission and the Commission has `rejected` Italy`s budget and asked them to think again, reduce their proposed expenditure levels and resubmit their budget in three weeks time.

Now unless I`m misreading the situation in Italy, there was a general election which was won by the coalition of the populist Five Star and Norther League parties, who made pre-election promises to the voters which they are now seeking to implement through this budget.   I think it`s called democracy and however daft, trivial, dangerous the issues which won the day at the ballot box may have been, nevertheless that`s what the majority of Italians voted for and expect to be delivered.

Ring a bell?   The parallels are obvious, of course, and this is yet another example of the EU denying the democratic process and is yet another example of why people like me voted over two years ago to leave the dictatorial, remote, largely unaccountable EU and opt instead to reclaim our national sovereignty and have our destiny, whatever it may turn out to be, in our own hands.  

I accepted then and I still do, that the decision taken by the majority to leave the EU would have consequences, that there would in all probability be some initial financial and other effects but that as a resolute and resilient nation we would be more than capable of riding the storm and coming out the other side all the better for it. 

But the EU plot continues to thicken - Ireland, Greece, Maastricht, now Italy - and they continue to frustrate our own 2016 referendum as well.  And the more they do so,, the more the remainers march and rant about another `people`s vote`, the more determined I and I suspect still the majority in this country will be to get out while the going`s good.

A GAP IN THE HEDGE..

Such glorious weather for late October - dry, warm and sunny - just the sort of days to tempt you out and explore local surroundings.   Dudley, our retriever puppy, is now six months old and although he has done very well in his training classes (he has the certificate to prove it) he really needs to explore the world around him and so he has been introduced to the North Downs, the Pilgrims Way and the North Downs Way, all very accessible just a short drive from home.

The Pilgrims Way is especially interesting, steeped in history as the route taken by pilgrims heading to Canterbury and we are lucky in this area to have a stretch of this long distance footpath which follows the line of the north downs and affords spectacular views of the Kent countryside.   The photo above which I took yesterday through a gap in the hedge shows the  hillsides  bright with autumnal green as the winter crops emerge and seemingly thrive in this good weather.

Here`s another photo I took, this time of the church at Trottiscliffe which nestles beneath the north downs and provides a quintessential image of rural England at its finest.......

And just to prove that not all the footpaths around here are dark or even a little forbidding, here`s a photo of the path from the village leading up the hill to the escarpment above.......

It`s more than an eye opener to discover what lies just beyond your doorstep.......

I guess it`s just the way life is.  You take one step forward and two steps back.  And today`s news has  confirmed that my own place in the great scheme of things has taken an unexpected step back  - which came as a bit of a surprise.

Now I`m sure that, like me, you were overwhelmed with joy at the news that Princess Meghan, the former Catholic, mixed race, foreign, divorcee, now laughably known as the Duchess of Sussex is going to have a baby in the Spring of next year.   It is, of course, a matter of limitless excitement and anticipation for me, to the extent that I can hardly wait until next Spring to  celebrate the arrival of yet another edition to the burgeoning royal family.

Don`t get me wrong - I hope all goes well for Prince Harry, the aforementioned Princess Meghan and their new arrival - I`m sure they will have a happy and glorious life as a family blessed with the knowledge that they will spend their lives in privileged splendour.

But I wonder if they will ever spare a thought for the fact that their newborn royal family member will be ninth in line for the throne with the result that I will thus be relegated to 59,573,976th in the line of succession.

It`s the same with my golf - for one reason or another I have been absent from the royal and ancient game for a few months and in the worldwide rankings I have now slipped out of the top 259,000,000 on the Richter Scale.  

So all in all, my life seems to be taking backward steps and as Paul Simon predicted it seems the nearer my destination the more I`m slip sliding away.   I need an upturn so I`ll get back to the driving range and stay well away from Kensington Palace.

A SPECIAL LOYALTY..

I`m not sure I`ve got too many heroes but here`s one of them  Matthew Le Tissier spent the whole of his footballing career at Southampton, in the process scoring 161 goals in 443 games for the club.  And what goals they were - mostly stemming from his natural talent and more often than not keeping Southampton in the top echelon of domestic football season after season.

His talent was never in doubt but some, perhaps more hard nosed taskmasters, questioned his commitment - his `work rate` - which limited his international appearances for England to just eight games.  Perhaps too he was guilty of playing for the `wrong club,` as Southampton have almost always been viewed as provincial, unfashionable and a little out of the way.

Now, he had a number of offers to leave the old ground at The Dell and move to the big cities and be paid more handsomely than the Saints could ever afford.   But he resisted such moves, preferring instead to be as close to his Guernsey roots as he could be and feeling a deep and special sense of loyalty to the club which had given him the chance to pursue his professional career in an environment in which he felt valued and comfortable.

I was privileged to watch him play on a number of occasions and to attend his testimonial game at the spanking new St. Mary`s Stadium after his retirement.   Oh, and I still have my own Sanderson shirt in the wardrobe. 

Today is MLT`s 50th birthday (one of that rare breed who is known simply by his initials) and I wish him well and thank him for the years of entertainment, loyalty and breathtaking brilliance that he brought to my club.   

OH TO BE.....

What a beautiful day yesterday.   Dry, warm, sunny with temperatures in the mid-20s Celsius.  (Will we get Fahrenheit back after 19th March next year, I wonder?)   And during a lull in my frantic day, I looked up the webcam for the King Harry Ferry, which plies its trade across the River Fal in the heart of Cornwall.

No doubt risking a fine for breach of copyright, I took this photo of the image that appeared on my PC desktop, downloaded it from my camera onto the PC, fiddled with it in Picasa3, saved it in a pictures folder then uploaded it on to here.   And it looked like a beautiful day down in Cornwall too and I sat and watched as the live webcam showed the ferry drifting slowly across the river from the Feock side to the Roseland and back again.

It all seemed to sum up the pace of life down there - people were waiting patiently for the ferry to complete its crossing, some got out of their cars and watched the world go by and I was reminded of the Cornish `dreckly` - things will happen when they do rather than in any sort of hurry.

I`ve made that crossing a number of times, the last time returning to our holiday cottage at Rosevine, a stone`s throw from Portscatho on the Roseland peninsula.   That is the side of the river you can see in this photo - the leaves on the oaks are turning into their Autumnal rust and the air of peace and calm made me think how good it would have been to  be there yesterday.   (As ever, please click on the photo for a better image.)

A BLAST FROM THE PAST....

I know my limits.   There`s only so far I can go to keep up with modern day technology but at least I have a go.  Most of the time.  But there are times when I have to concede defeat and just give up.

Probably against my better judgement I have a Facebook account.  I find it handy to keep in touch with friends and things that interest me and last night one of my `friends` from way back when started a thread on his Facebook page by posting a photo of himself in his army days and inviting others, like me, to upload a photo from our own military days and share it on our respective timelines.   It was then that I just gave up.

So the best thing I could think of doing was to post a photo on my blog here and let the world and his wife know about it.   Now I couldn`t find a photo of just me but I found the one above which shows the No. 1 Guard of the 10th Royal Hussars with yours truly tucked away in the third row, sixth in from the left.  (Please click on the photo for a better image.)

As you can see, we all looked resplendent in our blues with white webbing and our swords mercifully at ease at our sides. We had been hand picked for our smartness, our ability to obey orders and to march in time with the music, turn right and left and stop when shouted at.  We were the regiment`s creme de la creme, the tour de force, the enviable face of the British Army of the Rhine and in this photo we were either just going onto the parade ground or having just come off it, having played a pivotal role in the formal presentation of the Guidon (new colours) to the regiment by the Duke of Gloucester.

It had been a very hot day in the middle of the long hot German summer of 1961 but we performed our choreographed sword drilling intricacies without too much of a hitch.  After all, we had been fine tuned and trained with whips and stools for about six weeks prior to the big day so no wonder we were up for it.

Looking back these 57 years to that day left me wondering what today`s snowflake generation would make of being conscripted in two years of National Service.  Maybe it`s just as well for them that they`re unlikely to find out.

NURSE !!(PART TWO)..

In what has become an extraordinary week, once more I find myself in a state of disbelief.   Following on from the Saints cup win against Everton the other night, last night saw our Golden Retriever puppy, Dudley, awarded the accolade of Puppy of the Week.

For some weeks now he has been attending puppy training classes and he, along with his fellow pooches, has been learning the trade - things like sitting down when asked nicely, coming back when called, walking on the lead and going down on the ground when told - all pretty basic canine stuff but vital if they are to enjoy a safe and happy life.

And each week one of the puppies has been chosen as the Puppy of the Week, based on the progress made and the `performance` on the night.   Either that or it`s dished out in turn so as not to hurt their feelings (or more likely those of the owners.)  Be that as it may, Dudley was awarded the trophy last night and will wear the crown until next week, when the tests become a little more exacting, involving things like differential calculus and the basics of quantum physics.

I think you can put the smelling salts away again, thank you Nurse. 

NURSE!!!

Pass the smelling salts.  I`m having an attack of the vapours.   Can it be true?

Well, it seems it is.  The Saints have actually won a game.  OK, it was only some rinky-dink League Cup game away at Everton and it was only achieved thanks to a nail-biting penalty shoot-out.  But a win`s a win.

It was all a bit odd really.  Manager Mark Hughes made a lot of changes from the team that lost against Wolves on Saturday and brought in `fringe` players who were hoping to catch the manager`s eye for a regular starting place.  And it seemed to work.   Just before half time, Danny Ings converted Nathan Redmond`s shrewd pass to put the Saints one goal up and they held on right up to the 85th minute when former Saint Theo Walcott equalised for the Toffees.  

The Everton team included two other former Saints players - midfield stalwart Morgan Schneiderlin and goalkeeper Marten Stekelenburg - and it was perhaps fitting that in the penalty shoot-out that followed the full time 1-1 scoreline, it was Walcott whose penalty was saved by Saints keeper Angus Gunn which led to Cedric Soares rifling home the winning penalty past the despairing Stekelenburg.

So, Saints won 4-3 on penalties and secured an away trip to former Saints manager Claude Puel`s Leicester City.  (Difficult place to go to. the King Power Stadium.)  But let`s hope this morale boosting win (first win at Everton in 21 years) will be the springboard for more success in the Premier League in weeks to come.  Oh, I`ve just realised it`s Chelsea on Sunday.  Oh well, put the smelling salts back in the box.

A DECEPTIVE QUIETUDE..

I took this photo yesterday.  It`s an idyllic scene on a quiet, late September morning, the photo taken from a public footpath looking up towards the North Downs here in deepest Kent.   It`s close to the village of Birling, where we parked the car - just a few minutes drive from home.

Birling is famous for two things really.  The first was way back in 1963 when President John F Kennedy made his stirring speech which ended, "And there are some who say in Europe and elsewhere we can work with the communists.  Well, let them come to Birling.  Ich bin eine Birlinger!"  (He might have said `Berlin` - I might have misheard.)

The second is that Birling`s churchyard includes the last resting place of Rowland Hilder - surely one of the country`s most well known and well loved artists.  Here`s an example of his work and his love for this part of Kent:-

On our walk we came across a gamekeeper who told us that the pheasant shooting season was due to open on 6th October and that 3,000 pheasants were currently enjoying life in the nearby wood and fields.  I hope they have a good week as next week they will be scattered into the air to become targets for those who enjoy killing pheasants just for the fun of it.  

And so the quiet peace we enjoyed on our walk in this tranquil corner of Kent turns out to have been deceptive, especially if you`re a pheasant.

Sigh indeed.   Today marks the last day of the domestic cricket season and although the day dawned bright and clear with an unseasonably decent temperature, the curtain closing on yet another cricket season only confirms that summer has slipped away.   And as the last wicket fell I become acutely aware that what awaits us now is the onset of another winter with all of its cold, dark and gloomy prospects. 

No warm sun on my back;  no more light evenings and, yes, no more cricket.   But the domestic season ended in remarkable fashion at the Oval this afternoon - so much so that I was glued to the TV rather than lounging about in the afternoon sunshine.   This four day game went to the penultimate session on the last day which was more than surprising given that Surrey had been dismissed for just 67 in their first innings on the first morning.

In reply, Essex had piled on the runs to reach 477 for 8 only for Surrey to fight their way back like the newly crowned Champions they are and record 541 in their second innings.  That left Essex needing 132 to win and deny Surrey the honour of going through the whole of the Championship season unbeaten.   In a tense finish, Essex crawled over the line - just - reaching 134 for 9.

It was cricket at its very best and I could have been forgiven for thinking I was watching the finale of one of the great international test matches.  So the season ended on a high and in remarkable fashion, leaving cricket buffs like me to be saddened at its passing.

And what to look forward to now, I wonder?  Well, maybe the Ryder Cup will be interesting but I can`t say I`m excited by the prospect of the Premier League`s Super Sundays, Magic Mondays, Terrific Tuesdays, Wonderful Wednesdays and all the rest of the over-hyped circus masquerading as competitive top level football.  Oh, and there`s Halloween, Bonfire Night, Christmas and New Year to come.   

No wonder I will long for the return of the truly beautiful game.  See you next season.

REASONS FOR LEAVING..

OK, I confess.  I voted 27 months ago for the UK to leave the European Union.  There were many reasons why I did, some of which were perhaps bordering on the trivial - personal ones connected with my own and my late father`s military experiences  which rather made the idea of being a subject of a United States of Brussels less than appealing.

Other more substantial reasons included the chance for the UK to regain its independence following its loss of sovereignty and to regain control of our own affairs which, for an island nation, is probably more relevant than if you originate on continental Europe.  But there are bits of the EU way of doing things that are frankly utterly unacceptable.  Amongst them are things such as the fact that their accounts have not been signed off by their own auditors for over 20 years now and the sheer nonsense and vast expense of decamping from Brussels to Strasbourg each month in order to pander to Gallic hauteur.  

And another reason was rather quietly reported just today when the European Court of Justice decided that details of the way in which MEPs spend their expenses will remain secret.  Now  each Member of the European Parliament is entitled to spend £3,900 a month on `expenses,`  but the European Court has ruled that having to prove how that money is spent might breach the MEPs privacy.   In total, the annual cost of these expenses amounts to about £35million all paid for by the taxpayer, of course.

So it seems that the European Court`s decision means that I will never know how the MEPs spend the chunky amount of tax I have to pay towards their `expenses.`   Surely that is a breach of my own privacy in itself in that I think I should have a right to know where my money is going?  Not a sufficient reason of itself to vote leave, I grant you, but yet another nail in the coffin of any thoughts I might ever have to doubt the way in which  I cast my vote all those months ago.

Time to reset the privacy button, I think.

JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS ?

There`s a local colloquialism for heavy and persistent rain - it`s called `wazzing.`   And boy is it wazzing today.  It`s also cold and gloomy and it all comes as a bit of a shock after the long, scorchio summer that has now passed us by.

And my mood has not been helped by the events of yesterday.  Firstly and predictably the Saints went to Liverpool and were 3-0 down at half time, thanks to an early own goal of heroic ineptness, a towering header from a Liverpool player who managed to out-jump Saints central defender, 6`6" Jannik Vestergaard and a tap-in by Salah during first half added time.   Saints manager Mark Hughes reckoned that we drew the second half 0-0 to take `a positive` from a disappointing afternoon on Merseyside.   I`m surprised there isn`t an open top bus parade around Southampton this morning to celebrate.

My neighbour must be sick as a parrot, having been over the moon when his beloved Gillingham came from behind to go into a  2-1 lead only to finish up losing 2-4 to table topping Peterborough.  And despite a deficit reducing solo effort from our street`s footy hero Scott ("Buzzin` six-pack") Wagstaff, Wimbledon went down 2-1 away at Accrington, which these days is never an easy place to go to.   And Truro City made the 500-mile round trip to Hereford in an early round of the FA Cup only to draw 0-0 and have to play it all again in an unwanted replay.

In less important issues, the media is full of the Labour Party conference which this week will bore the pants of some of the populace, whilst others will be repelled by some of the `policies` they are about to announce, leaving only the die-hard Corbynistas to enthuse at the prospect of yet another General Election - a classic example of politicians pursuing blind ambition and a lust for power.  Just what we need. 

No wonder I have a feeling of despair this morning, but I hope it`s just one of those days.

To Maidstone Hospital yesterday for a long awaited `procedure` involving some surgery around one of my eyes - nothing too troublesome, just some local anaesthetic and 45 minutes in `theatre.`

All went well - I`m on the mend and already sensing that it was a job worth doing and that it was done very well.

And that really is the point of this post and Matt`s cartoon pretty much sums up yesterday`s experience for me.  Four of us patients for similar `procedures` were required to report at the hospital at 12.30pm.  We then had the preliminary administrative things which took but a few minutes and then we were invited to take our seats in the waiting area and wait our turn for the actual `procedure` to be carried out.

As we sat waiting, I wondered in what order we would be called.  It crossed my mind that it might be alphabetical but I realised it was too late to change my name by deed poll to Mr. Aardvark, so along with the others we just waited....and waited.   Eventually the first patient was called....then the next.....and the next....and I finally got called in for surgery about four and a half hours after I first arrived.   

That time made me suspect, as the pre-surgery anxiety levels continued to rise, that there must surely be a more efficient way of organising things like this - for example, calling two patients in at a time rather than all four - two could be called at 12.30. the other two at, say, 3.00pm?   I also noticed that there were several NHS staff who seemed to be hanging around the waiting area and I began to wonder whether they were all really necessary and what they were all supposed to be doing - I suspected that some of them had the same had the same feelings.

But I refuse to grumble about the NHS because the quality of surgery, care and attitude towards patients (now I know why patients have to be patient) was exemplary and I remain grateful for the attention I received.  I hesitate to enter a note of criticism but I was left with the feeling that a bit more organisation and perhaps a few less but perhaps more structured support staff might be called for?    Not for the first time it seems Matt`s cartoon has wider relevance than first imagined.

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER AGE..

Among my eclectic collection of cricket books, this one perhaps more than any other illustrates my penchant for the underdog.  Why else would I be interested in the fortunes of Glamorgan county cricket club; or the ups and downs of Forest Green Rovers or Truro City football clubs?

About four years ago I posted a `piece` about the death of a Glamorgan cricketing hero - Bernard Hedges. What made that post particularly poignant for me was not just the reminiscences of those bygone cricketing days when Bernard and his chums were in their pomp but also the fact that Bernard Hedges` son got in touch with me to let me know about the heroic walk around the boundary of Wales that he was undertaking in his father`s memory and to raise funds for grass roots cricket in Wales.   

And so, given that background, it was not surprising that along with my own eldest son, I made the journey to Canterbury yesterday to see the first day`s play of Kent`s last home game of the season against ...... Glamorgan.

And it was another of those quiet, balmy late summer/early autumn days when once again the joy of cricket provided the perfect counter to the rest of the world we seem to have to contend with.  It got me thinking back to those other Glamorgan stalwarts of the past who I recalled from my early days of underdog watching.  

But of course, in those far off days, those players were anything but underdogs, more heroes of my boyhood dreams - their names came back so easily after all those years -  those such as Wilfred Wooller, Gilbert Parkhouse, Alan Watkins and, of course, the departed Bernard Hedges.  I spared a thought for his son as well yesterday when, with yet another cricket season drawing to a close,  another day in the sheltered enclave of the St. Lawrence ground at Canterbury rekindled memories of another age now long gone but never forgotten.

EXPLORING THE WORLD...

Our new puppy, Dudley, seems to travel well and he enjoys being in the car.  When we brought him home from the breeder in the New Forest, he settled in to travelling very well and now gets a bit excited when he thinks we`re going anywhere in the  car.  Mind you, so far he has really only been on very short journeys to places like supermarkets, vets and dog food shops.

So this morning we took him for a scamper around some footpaths a little further afield in  this part of Kent so that he could enjoy new sniffs and new surroundings to make a change from walking round our parish.   The photo I took on our walk this morning shows the view from one of the paths which leads down from the Pilgrims Way to the village of Trottiscliffe (known locally as `Trosley.`)  It was part of Dudley`s need to explore the world around us and he seemed to enjoy it - he`s conked out fast asleep now after a hearty lunch.   

I might join him.

A RETURN VISIT...

I took this photo a week or so ago on a rare outing to the St. Lawrence Ground at Canterbury, where Kent were playing against Northants.  It was all of eleven years ago that I paid my last visit to Canterbury, on that occasion to see Shane Warne captaining Hampshire for the last time, so a return visit was long overdue.

My eldest son drove us there and acted as my carer for the day and we settled down in the Frank Wolley Stand and watched as the Northants bowlers dismissed Kent for not much over 100.  When it was their turn to bat, however, the Kent bowlers took centre stage and had the visitors in some trouble before bad light ended play just before 5.00pm.  I found that a curious decision, since it had been pretty gloomy all day but the floodlights had come on to illuminate the scene, so I can only imagine it was yet another obscure cricketing law that applied to red ball cricket.  No matter, we had enjoyed a good, entertaining day.

One thing that occurred to me was that, despite the terrific improvements to the ground and the facilities since I was last there, the sense of being `somewhere else` came back to me again.   Once you are in the ground and concentrating on the cricket, it is as if the only thing that really matters is what is going on inside the ground;  and that anything beyond the boundary - the noise, the mayhem, the anger of the world - means absolutely nothing, at least for those precious hours when one feels immune to anything other than the one truly beautiful game and the protected species that the cricket ground has become.

Anyway, we enjoyed it so much that we are hoping to go back next week to see Kent`s last home game of the season against Glamorgan and once more to be immersed in that rarefied atmosphere before the madness of winter, football and the rest of the world takes over.   Some people would call that the real world - they clearly cannot be cricket buffs.

A CAUTIOUS RE-ENTRY...

My apologies for absence from these pages for a few weeks.  The culprit is pictured above - Dudley is now 18 weeks old and, as is expected with golden retriever puppies, has been the focus of our attention and continues to be so.   I guess we had forgotten just how demanding puppies can be -it`s over 10 years now since we went through the puppy stage with our dearly departed Barney - and in a way it`s a bit like having kids all over again.

Anyway, Duds has started training classes and has settled into something of a routine which of itself seems to dictate the routine by which we live our own lives.  He`s already growing up bit by bit and it has been quite uncanny to see how he has picked up some of Barney`s old habits - it`s as if Duds has inherited them from his predecessor.  Things like licking out yogurt pots, standing on the top of horse mounting steps, springing into life when he hears the biscuit barrel being opened, waiting at the gate for me to close it when we come home from a walkies - and if he inherits Barney`s character and personality we`ll be well happy.

So, this is a cautious re-entry into the world of blogging and I agree it might lack a little interest but, dear reader, I will try to get back to something a little more interesting in the coming days and weeks.   At least I`ve remembered how to do it.