GTs and Aston Martins

On Saturday, Brands Hatch was full of Aston Martins, the oldest I think was from 1925, through to one just a few weeks old. reliability throughout was awsome, and there were some really cool stories of old cars rescued and restored.

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Last week we had the GT Trophy, which also had some very pretty cars.

This one won, but had to fight for it.

This one is a Lamborghini -
what else needs to be said? 

But this one was most fun. 

Clown loaches waiting for dinner

These guys have a habit of throwing stones at the glass if they think I've forgotten to feed them and I was trying to get that on video, but they wouldn't do it today. Still, they are indulging in a little synchronised staring between the tussling and playing.

Orient Express spam can

After bitching about the diesel engines pulling the Orient Express Trains yesterday, guess what was waiting for me at Victoria this morning? An enormous great steam engine, complete with puffing smoke and everything!

The driver of my ordinary mainline train got all over-excited about it and felt the need to announce it's presence over the tannoy. The majority ignored him, but I and a Polish gentleman went to have a look, and take pictures.

The engine was Tangmere and is a Battle of Britain class engine apparently. It's definitely large and looks like it could take on an army all by itself. And yet, it was still very, very pretty.

And not at all like the 'spam can' it apparently acquired as a nickname.

How Folkestone has changed

I went to Folkestone on Wednesday and enjoyed lunch with old friend Joe-the-Photo. The town has improved since I last spent any real time there, which was over fifteen years ago, and a time when the drug culture was moving in and bringing the town down with it.

Tontine Street looks nastier than ever, although I’m not sure how much it has declined, and how much it just looks like it has since some of the surrounding areas have improved.

But the Leas is much cleaner and the Triennial art installations dotted along it give it a measure of extra interest. Even the café above the Leas Cliffe Hall has gone a bit more upmarket. 

Some of the art installations are worth going to see in their own right. Such as the boats hanging in St Mary and St Eanswythe’s Church. There are a few blogs on the internet by people who have gone exploring properly and finding the artworks.

But most noticeable is the improvement of the little alleyways behind the High Street, which I’m sure are still creepy at night, but in the daylight are no longer seedy and reeking of bodily fluids, but lovely little picturesque sanctuaries away from the busy shopping areas. But the steep hill and cobbles mean that comfortable shoes are pretty much essential!

The pubs in the area used to be almost uniformly repulsive, but some of them have responded to the new order and risen to challenge, providing some really nice places to be a ‘lady who lunches’ and enjoy good food – but do remember, it isn’t London. For a start, some places and this includes some of the pubs, are cash only.

I think that the drug culture has now diminished and that, along with the massive injection of cash and energy into development and arts is really beginning to show. There is still a long way to go, but from one afternoon spent there, it has already become a place worth visiting, which is more than can be said for many other towns in the county.

The Orient Express trains have been in and out of Victoria regularly recently - it must be the season. I do find it very disappointing that the engine(s) attached to the beautiful old carriages are mostly the diesels.

I have a sneaking suspicion that they are are probably magnificent in their own right to one who knows about such things, but I know nothing. Therefore I do love to see one of the steam engines at the front of the Orient Express – they just seem to have a certain romance about them that the diesels lack.

Note to self: get picture of steam engine when it's next in, and don't delete it.

At the other end of the civilised spectrum, (but let's keep it civilised anyway) I had a Papanicolaou (smear) test a couple of weeks ago. Because I am in fact part alien (which comes as no surprise to many of you, I know), this always results in something like the following:

• Go see nice nurse,
• Gossip about cute men on telly,
• Get test done,
• Wait a couple of weeks,
• Get a 'your results are dodgy' letter (because 'sample not good enough' is too reassuring and I might not go back, apparently),
• Go see big burly Brunnhilde nurse,
• Receive instructions on proper positioning and deportment during test,
• Get test done,
• Get large glass of wine,
• Wait a couple of weeks,
• Get a 'your results are still dodgy' letter (because 'sample not good enough' is still too reassuring and they definitely don't want to risk me not going back, apparently),
• Go see elderly, portly, hairy, doctor,
• Listen to burblings about his grandchildren and his dodgy pancreas,
• Get test done,
• Get large bottle of wine with a whiskey chaser for good measure.
• Wait a couple of weeks,
• Get an 'all-clear' letter,
• Get large bottle of whiskey,
• Swear never, ever to go through that again ever (until next time).

This is been my experience pretty much for the last twenty-five odd years, no matter the doctor, the surgery or town where I've had it done.

This time was a completely new experience. I saw nice nurse, who informed me that I was an alien and instructed me on an advanced contortionist yoga-like position that made pretzels look positively straight. Test was done, and three working days later, NHS letter was waiting for me when I got home. Now this was so unbelievably fast, that I was actually worried about opening it. 

It was, fortunately, the all-clear, but I was so shocked at the speed and efficiency, I by-passed all the other stages and went straight for the whiskey anyway.

August is the summer holidays of my workplace. Not a whole lot to do, which makes up for the crazy mania of most of the rest of the year.

So there's not a lot to report. Never mind the London riots which have spread around the country from Gillingham to Bristol and from Croydon to Birmingham - I get an elevated view of Brixton on the train, but that's the closest I've been so far. It's good to see the post-disaster community spirit is alive and well, with @riotcleanup and #riotwombles on Twitter being used to great effect to get thousands of people on the streets cleaning up.

Speaking of which, predictably social media is being blamed for the riots. Which is rubbish of course - riots have been occurring since the assassination of Julius Caesar, and organised communication has certainly been different, but no less effective. It's people that cause riots.

Anyway, the sum total of accomplishment that I have achieved is painting my hallway. It was a spontaneous decision, and I decided to go for a lighter colour, and a complimentary shade as I can't reach all the way to the ceiling.

I made creative cloud edges to separate the new colour from the old colour. And as it dried, the new colour got darker. And now the colours are so close to identical that I can't see where the old ends and the new begins. Oh well. Still need to paint the ceiling and skirting boards, but the walls look much better.

Olympics, Maze and seagulls

I had occasion to visit the Olympic village at Stratford last week. It's really quite impressive, not least because it looks like it may actually be finished on time.

But the overwhelming impression I was left with was that the whole thing is going to look like an enormous buffet lunch. This is not necessarily a bad thing, you understand, simply an observation.

The stadium itself looks like a salad bowl. Next to it is the velodrome (I think), which has already been locally nicknamed the 'Pringle' due to it's distinctive roof.

On the other side is the fish factory. The one that had to be moved to make way for the stadium. They completely lucked out with their new location and I'm sure they are looking forward to a roaring trade next summer.

And then the centre-piece is the table ornament which at the moment looks like a helter-skelter. I even think the Dome may be close enough to qualify as a dessert.

When not on construction sites, I occasionally get to go to posh restaurants, and again last week, I went to Gordon Ramsey's Maze restaurant in Grosvenor Square. I had high hopes as I'd seen good things on the telly. Now I should point out that it was a corporate affair and therefore perhaps not comparable to fare offered to the individual customer.

The food was divine. Combinations of flavours and textures I'd never even imagined were presented, and while sometimes surprising (salmon on the same plate as watermelon?), it was all, without exception, utterly gorgeous. It was all beautifully presented, the waiter service attentive yet not intrusive, and the surroundings lovely and smart without being too ostentatious.

There was only one downside - there wasn't much of it. For anyone reading who doesn't know me (and there are a few of you now!), I have a BMI of 21.6, so not skinny, but hardly what you'd call a piggy either. I left right after dessert to catch a train, and was hungry enough to inhale a large baguette from Pret A Manger on the way to the station. 

For the last 11 years, my car has been constantly covered in seagull poo. I know that periodically a couple nest on my chimney, and one or two can be seen having a screaming match on my roof.

Brands Hatch looking pretty.

But mostly I have pigeons and sparrows, yet the poo is rather too large even for pigeons.

A few days ago, I discovered that my car is in fact, the local public toilet with gulls specifically paying visits. I think I should start charging them - the going rate is 30p a visit, according to London Victoria railway station, which means I would be a millionaire this time next week.