2024

We must have been forty miles away when David Godfrey yelled out, "Land ahoy!". He had been up on deck finishing "The Stud". Fortunately, the storm of the previous eighteen hours had abated. Once again, the sky was as blue as a robin's egg and the ocean was like a lightly ruffled tablecloth.

"Where? Where?" I cried, scanning the ocean's rim. And then I saw it - a tiny smudge on the horizon and even as I stared, the smudge seemed to grow bigger. Other bloggers were by now clustering on deck, all hoping to catch their first sightings of our faraway destination. Bruce and Keith squabbled like Statler and Waldorf in "The Muppets"

Hours passed before I snapped the picture at the top of this blogpost. An albatross wheels expertly on the ocean breeze as Queen Mary's Peak rises from the ocean to a height of 6,760 feet. Essentially, that's what Tristan is - a massive volcano rising up from the bed of the ocean and still active, still growing. Up there on that peak there is a crater lake in the shape of a heart - a message of peace and love to the rest of the world. Lord knows we need that as we stand on the precipitous edge of 2025:-

It seemed to take forever for "The Jolly Puffin" to reach the island's tiny wharf. When the ship was finally tied up securely, we disembarked and made our way up to Prince Philip's Hall to be processed. The island council requires all visitors to be properly registered. By the way, the entire council was there to greet us. Hosting "The Laughing Horse Blogging Awards" is one of the biggest events Tristan has ever known. I shook hands with them all and spent time talking to the chief islander - James Glass - middle of the back row in my photograph. On behalf of Laughing Horse, I thanked him profusely for his kind hospitality.

Below, Dave Northsider posts a letter home to his family in West Cork, Ireland. This is the only postbox on Tristan da Cunha. Please notice how stylishly Dave is dressed. Beige cardigans are all the rage right now...

We were all having a walk around Edinburgh of the Seven Seas and chatting with the friendly locals who came out to meet us. I wanted to check out St Joseph's Church and to make sure that everything is ready for tonight's ceremony. Mary and Jennifer came up there with me - their arms interlinked in friendship. We noticed JayCee and Peregrine heading off towards the site of the 1960s eruption with jetblack lava flows now cooled into lethal jagged rocks.

 This is the flag of Tristan da Cunha:-

The strange creatures to the left and right of the coat of arms are spiny lobsters which are an important source of revenue for the island. James Glass assured me that they will be on our New Year's Eve dinner menu. The flag's scrolled slogan reads: "Our Faith Is Our Strength".

I snapped this picture when heading up to St Joseph's Church as Mary and Jennifer lagged behind both wheezing like rusty bellows in a blacksmith's shop.

This is the church's interior:-

Frankly, I am surprised that the island council didn't glitz it up for us but it will just have to do. You can't have everything.

The island council arranged for all "Laughing Horse" visitors to lodge with local Tristanians as there are no hotels on the island. I am with the Swain family just a hop and skip from the catholic church. Monica aka "Dawn Treader" is in the next room.

The visitors who arrived by sea from Cape Town dropped off their bags and walked half a mile to the allotment area. It is called Potato Patch and every household has an allotment there where potatoes and plenty of other vegetables are grown. The volcanic soil is rich and fertile and  there are no slugs whatsoever. Dave Northsider's eyes were popping out of their sockets.

As we were being shown round, we heard the unmistakable humming of an aeroplane. We looked up and soon there it was - dressed in its R.A.F . livery - an Atlas transporter aircraft. But what was it doing here? After all, there's no airstrip on Tristan.

And then all became clear. The cargo hold door dropped open and out jumped twenty or more parachutists. Chute cords were pulled and they drifted down to the ground like dandelion seeds. Who were they? Was it an invasion? Perhaps they were Argentinians.

Soon all became clear.

Just outside the walls of Potato Patch and twenty yards from me, one easily recognisable bloke landed on his back like a sack of spuds with a great"Oomph!". It was Cro Magnon of "Magnon's Meanderings". Before I could reach him another blogger landed on top of him with her legs akimbo. She was laughing with delight and it was none other than Meike Riley, author of "From My Mental Library".

"Have I died and gone to heaven?" beamed Magnon.

There was Ellen D from Illinois and Bob Slatten from South Carolina, John Gray (The Legend), Thelma Wilcox  of "North Stoke" fame and who was that over there by the rhubarb enclosure? Why none other than Yorkshire's own Tasker Dunham! Given his ongoing health challenges I was astonished to clap eyes on him. I ran over to shake his hand and disentangle him from the parachute cords. Of course we did not hug.

"Dr Dunham I presume!" I said.

"I told you I'd make it!" he grinned.

Photo  © Steve Reed 2024

It was at that moment that the Atlas flew past again, disgorging three Australians - Andrew de Melbourne, Kylie Tai and Elsie Rivers. They drifted to earth holding an Australian flag between them before landing in the chocolately brown quagmire where cattle assemble for their feed supplements. Urrrgh!

Other bloggers who bravely parachuted in were Jenny from "Procrastinating Donkey", Addy from west London, Ed from Iowa and author of "Riverbend Journal" and all the way from The Isle of Lewis in Scotland - Graham Edwards. Plus Michael from Virginia, Bob Brague from Canton, Georgia and Donna from the suburbs of Denver, Kelly, Margaret, Deb, Diaday, Marvellous Marcellous and Debby and of course Christina from Blackburn, Lancashire. I am sure I have missed a few.

Around six o'clock we gathered in Prince Philip's Hall for a dinner that did indeed include spiny lobsters and fresh vegetables from Potato Patch. Alcoholic beverages were purchased at The Albatross Bar and we mingled happily with the Tristanians before heading up to St Joseph's Church in a conga chain, laughing and stumbling and shrieking. Such merry japes!

As 2024 ebbed away into the starry South Atlantic night, we were entertained by local rock band The Spiny Lobsters before the audience of bloggers, blog visitors and islanders was hushed. It was time to announce the three special category winners of  "Commended" awards:- 

1. BEST NEWCOMER - Well not really a newcomer at all but new to The Laughing Horse Awards Committee.  She has been blogging out of Berkshire, England since early 2009 at least. Her blog is varied, kindly, intelligent, usually upbeat and often witty. She receives comments and provides replies with brightness and good manners. You might say that it is at heart a domestic blog because it brings in her family members, including her pets. And the winner is... Janice Jabblog for "Jabblog" Now  entitled to copy and paste this exclusive 2024 widget into her blog:-

2. BEST SCANDINAVIAN BLOGGER - This special award goes to Monica Dawn-Treader for "Beyond The Lone Islands". Monica has been blogging away from southern Sweden for the past fourteen years - not in Swedish but in her second language - English in which she is  surprisingly competent.  Her blog is honest and thoughtful - often giving interesting insight into her town and Swedish life in general.  There are many helpful photo-illustrations. She remembers and she looks forward with humility, glad to be alive. This award has been won ahead of stiff competition from Finland, Norway and Denmark .  Monica is now  entitled to copy and paste this exclusive 2024 widget into her blog:-

3.  BEST BLOGGER IN ADVERSITY Casual visitors to "A Yorkshire Memoir" may not realise that the owner of this blog, Tasker Dunham, has been battling lung cancer for many months now. He doesn't like to bang on about the serious effects of the condition and associated treatment and medication but it is always there in the background. It is frankly amazing and testament to his stubborn resilience that he keeps up with other blogs and on a pretty regular basis continues to publish or republish  fascinating and varied blogposts. We applaud and praise him for his ongoing contributions to blogging.  Tasker is now  entitled to copy and paste this exclusive 2024 widget into his blog:-

⦿

Time has run away like sand in an hour glass. Midnight bells are chiming across the wide Atlantic as 2024 passes the baton of human existence to a brand new year - a clean slate - 2025. The overall winner of the "Blogger of the Year" award will be announced tomorrow. From Tristan da Cunha  it's over and out for now, wishing you.... 

A Happy New Year!

Heave-ho

Drone image © Steve Reed Dec 2024

With regard to the calm ocean, I guessed that our luck could not hold out. Sure enough, about twelve hours ago the sea conditions began to  change. It was very rapid. Previously, we had been ploughing through the waves like a water skier on a summer lake and now the ship was going up and down as though on a never-ending fairground ride.

Have you ever suffered from seasickness? I have and it's a terrible condition to endure. Up and down, your stomach rising into your mouth. You might find yourself lying in your cabin unable to do a damned thing - just praying silently for the undulating motion to cease. Fortunately, I remembered to bring some "Sea Legs" motion sickness pills with me so I am feeling A.O.K.. Pity I don't have any to spare.

Out on deck, several bloggers were groaning as they bent over the railings emptying their stomachs. Heave-ho! Their faces were pale grey, tinged with green. "Ohhhh!" spluttered Nurse Pixie from Alberta, Canada as she rushed from her cabin, spewing her guts up before she could reach the railing. As all nurses know, vomit is slippery stuff but thankfully I successfully dodged it as it swished about the deck.

Half the crew members are suffering too. I believe that "The Jolly Puffin" has a crew of seven, including Captain Flounders and even he has had to take some time out from his wheelhouse duties.

Seaspray bursts explosively from the bows every time we plunge into another trough.

Hysterically, Jennifer repeatedly yelled, "Oh God! We are going to sink!". It was sending shockwaves through the rest of the passengers so I held her shoulders and shouted at the top of my voice, "Pull yourself together lass! We are not going to sink!" This seemed to quieten her down but she continued to tremble like a leaf and barfed inelegantly once more.

How mountainous these seas are! We are meant to make Tristan da Cunha tomorrow morning - New Year's Eve - but I will be happy just to survive this ordeal. I can hear Dave Northsider and Mary Moon in their shared cabin singing a hymn of the sea above the roar of the ocean:-

Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep:

O, hear us when we cry to Thee,

For those in peril on the sea!

Atlantic

 

Hull City Football Club have two mascots. That's Roary on the left and Amber on the right. Recently, they have not been bringing much luck to my favoured team but under our new Spanish manager, Rubén Sellés, things seem to be taking a turn for the better.

Today we beat Blackburn Rovers by one goal to nil at Ewood Park. Now I am rather more hopeful that we can stay up in  the English Championship which is  effectively the second tier of English football.

I am writing this from the deck of "The Jolly Puffin". The entire world seems watery from this perspective. No more blue whales and no more albatrosses either. Just an endless ocean and Tristan da Cunha another two days away.

I easily beat Bruce Taylor in an arm wrestling match this morning and then took on Keith Kline in a best of three bout. I am mortified to admit that Keith came out on top. He is one tough geezer. 

Plenty of time for reflection on this little ship. I checked out my blog statistics and realised that this is my 357th blogpost of the year. That means  that in the nineteen years since "Yorkshire Pudding" was born, this has already been my most productive year. Last year I posted 355 times but back in 2010 for example, I only delivered 196  blogposts.

Jaycee and her husband Peregrine are still keeping themselves to themselves and failing to mingle with the other passengers.  Otherwise, it has been a pleasure to spend time with the other bloggers on board - including Dave Northsider who is a right laugh. Janice from "Jabblog" is missing her cats and dogs and Steve Reed and David Godfrey have their heads buried in books most of the time.

Last year's blogger of the year David is reading a Jackie Collins novel - "The Stud" and 2016 winner Steve is reading "The Revenge of The Librarians" by Tom Gauld. Honestly, often you can't get a word out of these American guys. I thought they would be more fun but it's all read, read, read with them.

Anyway, I must go. The dinner bell is ringing and I want to bag my favourite seat - next to Jennifer of course. Until tomorrow - Cheerio!

Henry

Henry the Horse will be one of the stars of this years Laughing Horse Blogging Awards event to be held in the Catholic church on Tristan da Cunha on New Year's Eve. He will appear on all merchandising including key fobs, T-shirts, pens, children's jigsaws, mugs, umbrellas and troll candles.

Senior bloggers Bruce & Keith have even volunteered to dress up in Henry the Horse costumes. Currently, they are in the next cabin to me and Jennifer. We hear them playing card games and laughing uproariously as they share stories and bottles of whisky. Several times we have had to bang on the cabin wall and tell them to shut the **** up.

Oh, and I must report that this morning I saw my first ever blue whale! The mighty creature came to the ocean surface no more than thirty yards away on the port side of "The Jolly Puffin" and simultaneously blew gallons of brine high into the air via its blowhole. It created a kind of mist in which, momentarily, kaleidoscopic rainbow colours danced in the morning sunlight. So beautiful and an image that will always stay with me.

Photo © Steve Reed - sorry about the poor quality

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Meanwhile...

Back in Sheffield, my doppelganger walked over to the suburb  of Nether Edge to donate a few books at the Oxfam shop and to see if the hardback copy of "Bournville" by Jonathan Coe was still unsold. Luckily, it was still there so he snapped it up for a mere £1.99. His wife, Shirley, had given him a paperback copy of this well-received novel for Christmas but the text was far too small for comfortable reading.

He was planning to lounge in "The Byron House" pub with a pint of bitter while he read the opening pages but the establishment was closed. Instead, he sat outside "Cafe Number 9" with a latte that cost as much as a pint. The early afternoon was again mild and sunny and he managed ten pages before a pair of middle-aged women plonked themselves at the other outdoor table and began to gossip like turkeys  before Christmas. Immediately, his reading had to cease.

"The Byron House" pub yesterday

Later, after making a simple pasta dish for dinner, he and his wife went down the hill to his daughter's house. They were on babysitting duty. He read a story version of "Frozen" to his oldest granddaughter who kept interceding with pronunciation advice. Apparently, "Frozen" is meant to be read in a southern California drawl and not in a blunt East Yorkshire accent.

Afterwards, he went downstairs  to watch a documentary film called "Tsunami" which brought tears to his eyes. What a wuss that fellow is! It was about The Indian Ocean disaster that occurred on Boxing Day 2004. Twenty years ago. An estimated 275,000 people died that day. So many untold stories. The documentary focused on just six of those associated heart-rending tales.

Base of tree and stone wall on Brincliffe Edge - yesterday

Bagels

This Christmastide I have consumed three bagels - or maybe the correct spelling is "beigels". On Christmas Day  morning, my toasted bagel was then buttered and smothered with cream cheese before being layered with torn strips of smoked salmon. Delicious.

My two other toasted breakfast bagels were buttered before having peanut butter and strawberry jam applied - not so easy when there is a hole in the middle. But why do bagels have holes?

I discovered it is to do with maximising the surface area of the bagel to increase the density and chewiness of the bread. By the way - there are such things as bagels without  holes - they are  called  bialies or  flagels but much less well known than bagels which were popularised in New York City in the late nineteenth century.

Here's slightly quirky Stella Parks (a.k.a. Bravetart) making her own homemade bagels and guiding us through the process. And yes, some boiling of the dough is  included:-

Reality

 

"The Jolly Puffin" with bloggers on board

Reality 1

Oh God! This ocean is so wide and empty. It seems to stretch forever, far beyond our imaginings.

We saw a majestic albatross sailing in the blue sky this morning, silhouetted against the sun and in the afternoon a pod of playful dolphins followed in the wake of "The Jolly Puffin". Our skipper, Captain Flounders, claims that he regularly sees blue whales surfacing on the run to Tristan da Cunha but we haven't seen any yet.

Some of the bloggers and blog fans on board have asked not to be named for personal and security reasons so I have to honour their requests. However, as well as Jennifer Barlow I can reveal that the Isle of Man blogger Jaycee Manx is also on board with her husband Peregrine. They are not on holiday in Madrid as her blog currently claims. That is a mere ruse, just cunning subterfuge.

They keep themselves to themselves. At lunchtime today, I tried to converse with Jaycee but Lord Peregrine pulled her away with fire in his glaring eyes - as if to say, "She's mine! Keep Off!" It's a look I have seen before.

We are over two days into our voyage now and as Tristan da Cunha gets closer so do the end of this difficult year's greatest revelations - the winners of Laughing Horse Blog Awards - especially the winner of the overall "Blogger of the Year" award. Who will it be? The tension mounts as we ride the rolling waves.

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Reality 2

Boxing Day. What does it mean? In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it became the tradition here in some parts of England for Christmas "boxes" to be given by employers to their employees in recognition of good service. The boxes would contain a range of useful gifts and some would simply be food parcels for food was quite popular with the downtrodden in those distant times.

After another shorter-than-expected sleep, we were down at Frances and Stew's house for breakfast. Ian and Sarah were already packing up their car ready for the long drive back to London. The sky was blue again and the temperature was unseasonably benign. That's how it stayed for three hours in the middle of the day.

After we had waved off the big black Volvo and wee Zachary, the rest of us headed down the hill to Endcliffe Park. This is the much-loved beating heart of Sheffield 11 and there were plenty of amblers out and about enjoying the day but none were carrying boxes on Boxing Day.

In the children's play area, I met somebody I had not seen in fifteen years or more - one of our Ian's old school friends - Tom. He lives in Edinburgh now but was back in Sheffield visiting his family - including his ailing mother. He was back with his partner Steph and their two small daughters. 

And there lies a tale to tell. Fifteen years ago, he fell seriously ill while on holiday in Vietnam. It seems that he had developed a serious blood condition - a kind of cancer that threatened his life.

Getting through that danger was long and tortuous. He came close to death and in the end needed a stem cell transplant to survive along with powerful drugs to  sustain his immune system. Linked to this treatment, he was asked if he would like to preserve some of his sperm in case he wanted to father a child in the future.

The two girls I saw playing in the park today were the direct result of his decision. It's a good news story. I shook Steph's hand in recognition of the generous and stalwart support she gave Tom during the darkest years of his life. She stood by him and helped him to live again. She is an amazing woman.

We watched a mist descending over the green park and headed back to Stew and Frances's house for a  Boxing Day feast made from Christmas Day leftovers.

Messages

King Charles III delivering his Christmas message today

You decide. Choose Message 1 or Message 2.

Message 1

A life on the ocean wave
A home on the rolling deep
Where the scatter'd waters rave
And the winds reveal their keep
Like an eagle cag'd I pine
On this dull unchanging shore
Oh give me the flashing brine
The spray and the tempest's roar

A life on the ocean wave
A home on the rolling deep
Where the scatter'd waters rave
And the winds reveal their keep
The winds! The winds! The winds their revels keep
The winds! The winds! The winds their revels keep

Now thirty hours out of Cape Town. The voyaging bloggers have been getting on famously and the weather - like the ocean deep - remains benign. We played quoits on deck this afternoon before tucking into a traditional Christmas dinner - with roasted turkey and all the trimmings. Thank you Chef Oliver!

Quietly, I think we are all pining for our loved ones and the Christmas Days that we have become accustomed to. I found Jennifer weeping in our cabin saying she missed her husband Gregg, her two faithful hounds and her infamous parrot, Marco. In situations like this I usually find that a warm embrace is all that is needed.

Onwards to Tristan and Edinburgh of the Seven Seas!

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Message 2

I woke far too early and tried to get back to sleep with the aid of Radio 4 but it didn't work. For an hour, I fooled myself into thinking I could get back inside sleep's cosy cottage. There was Christmas music and readings. 

The Christmas Eve takeaway curry was probably the reason my sleep was foreshortened. I was supposed to pick up our order at 8pm but in the event I had to wait for forty five extra minutes. There were other customers in the same predicament. This unexpected wait meant that my family were not sitting down to eat until after 9pm.

I felt jaded today. We arrived at Frances and Stew's house at just after ten this morning. Soon we were drinking bucks fizz and eating toasted bagels with cream cheese and thin slices of smoked salmon.

As the morning wore on, I found myself upstairs assembling an IKEA drawing board for Phoebe. Blackboard one side and whiteboard on the other. Why can't IKEA assemble such products themselves? And if you are going to oblige customers to assemble things, please make sure the instructions are clear and foolproof.

Stew was the head chef. He had bought a massive turkey which was roasted for five hours and there were many trimmings including three different types of stuffing, sprouts, carrots, cranberry sauce and Yorkshire puddings. Shirley had made a delicious vegan Christmas pudding which was begun six weeks ago - so rich, dark and fruity.  We poured some rum over it and  Stew lit it. As blue flames licked around it, Phoebe said, "Be careful Daddy! You will set the house on fire!"

Shirley was concerned that the conflagration might impair the taste but in the event, all was fine.

Later, we watched an amazing mountain climbing film on Sky TV  called "The Devil's Climb". Set in Alaska it was about conquering the last unclimbed mountain of any significance in North America. Some of the footage was awesome.

Later still we all played a card game called "Codenames" which was quite easy to get the hang of and pretty good fun too. Stew's parents were also in attendance throughout the day. They are good people.

And it was very nice day - a family coming together, feasting and comfortable in each other's company. A small child and two babies. Food on the table, money in the bank and no one at death's door. Relish it while you can - I thought to myself - because there's no guarantee that all will be the same twelve months from now. Here's a toast to Christmas 2024! (Sound of clinking glasses) Cheers!

Choices

You have heard of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Now you can apply that principle to me - Yorkshire Pudding this Christmas Eve.

CHOICE ONE

The flight to South Africa was trouble-free. Straight down to Johannesburg then an internal flight to Cape Town where taxi driver Mohan Lal was waiting to whisk me down to the docks. 

"The Jolly Puffin" is a more substantial boat than I had imagined. I guess it needs to be if it is expected to tackle the notoriously temperamental  waves of The South Atlantic.

Several other bloggers and blog visitors were waiting down on the quay and there was much handshaking and hugging before we were shown to our berths. I am sharing a tiny cabin with Jennifer from Florence, South Carolina. If has been a terrific delight to meet her after so long.

No doubt we will know each other a lot better after the voyage ahead. Six days to Tristan da Cunha. We are on our way. As Rod Stewart sang, "We are sailing stormy waters/ To be near you to be free". The ocean is quite placid right now - let's hope it stays that way.

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CHOICE TWO 

I caught the number 81 bus to the suburban village of Dore. There I alighted and soon afterwards entered "The Devonshire Arms" for half a pint of Timothy Taylor's Ale before beginning my two hour walk home. Half of that walk was through Ecclesall Woods - a swathe of ancient woodland to the south west of the city. Then I was into the affluent suburbs proper, crossing Dobcroft Road then passing Dobcroft Primary School and onward to Button Hill and Carterknowle Road.

It was very mild with not a drop of moisture in the air and milky cloud cover above. I had not had any lunch so this evening I was looking forward to the slap-up Bangladeshi takeaway curry I ordered. We ate it round at Frances and Stew's house with the little ones tucked up in bed waiting for the trip-trapping of reindeer hooves on the roof.

These four  pictures were taken today...

"The Devonshire Arms" in Dore

Gorillas in the woods near the ruins of Ryecroft Mill

Signpost in Ecclesall Woods

Typical suburban house on Button Hill

Deliveries

In these recent days before Christmas, our hallway filled up with cardboard boxes. They were brought to our door by an array of delivery drivers. Most of the parcels had been ordered by our son Ian and we had no idea what was inside them. A particularly large box was addressed to our daughter.

When she finally opened it, we discovered a mattress inside. But nobody here had ordered a mattress. It arrived via Amazon Prime. Clearly a mistake had occurred.

We attempted to let Amazon know and we tried to contact the intended recipient - a Mr D. Spencer who lives in the village of Killamarsh east of Sheffield. It's about ten miles away from our house. Yes we really did try but to no avail.

But the bottom line was that we didn't want that massive box in our hallway. Consequently, today I transported the box to St Vincent's Charity Warehouse on Queens Road. This worthy charity helps needy people  to furnish their homes. The brand new mattress was gratefully received.

Nowadays, there seem to be many issues with deliveries and delivery companies. Maybe it was here in Blogland but I heard of someone who had received a Yamaha electric organ in error. When they pursued the matter, they were told to just keep the organ. It would have been too much trouble for the carrier to correct the matter.

You hear of dishonest delivery drivers and of parcels being stolen from doorsteps. Shopping may have changed forever but not always for the good. It would help if all delivery companies had well-staffed customer service facilities to ease communication. Instead, the reality is that you are more likely to wait for a bot in a telephone queue as a recorded message fibs, "Your call is important to us".

I hope that a weary and deserving someone is soon able to lie down upon that mysterious mattress and then sail through sleep's archway to The Land of Nod. They will have no inkling of  knowledge about the mattress's prior journey.

Closer

I prepared a Sunday roast feast today. We had to extend out Victorian pine table by adding an old drop leaf table from the greenhouse. It worked out fine. Shirley put linen tablecloths over the whole shebang.

All the people I love the most were in attendance: Shirley, Frances, Stew, Phoebe, Margot, Ian, Sarah and Zachary.

The menu included roasted loin of pork, vegan nut roast, apple sauce, sage and onion stuffing, tender stem broccoli, roasted carrots and parsnips, golden Yorkshire puddings, roasted potatoes and two types of homemade gravy. This was followed by a homemade apple crumble using the last of the usable apples from our garden with vanilla custard or vegan ice cream. And of course there was water and fine wine to drink.

I got to sit next to Margot who remains such a lovable child. She can mimic "mamama" and "dadada" now and when she stands without assistance for twenty seconds or more she is very proud of herself - clapping and laughing when she finally drops to the floor.

Zach is a good eater. I woke to hear him kind of singing and chortling to himself this morning as he lay in the cot where Margot sometimes naps. Zach is staggering around with some confidence now and he has a happy disposition even though he suffers from a touch of eczema. This is being managed really well by Sarah who remains a diligent, loving mother. I hope it is something that he grows out of. His skin is certainly sensitive.

Phoebe was dressed in the outfit of a Santa assistant and looked lovely this afternoon. She went to see the "Disney on Ice" show at Sheffield Arena with her mama this weekend and thoroughly enjoyed the experience even though she is not fond of big crowds and loud noises. She also travelled on the Sheffield Supertram for the first time.

Christmas feels close now. Yet another one - arousing memories of past Christmases. Loved ones who have gone and the happiness we shared. It's a time for nostalgia, taking stock and noting the relentless march of time.

Tonight Bert's son Philip called round with a present for me. It was the first time he had been to our house. I invited him in for a tot of Irish whiskey. He does a great job of caring for both of his aging parents who live in two different houses two miles apart. Without Philip's assistance 88 year old Bert could not live at home. I have reminded the cantankerous old bugger about this several times.

Finally this weekend, I got round to sending some of my e-cards out. This has become an annual habit for me and given the increased cost of posting physical cards in this kingdom, I can see me posting even more self-designed e-cards in future years. See my 2024 card at the top.

Jollity

 

Well, for your amusement, I thought that I would just put up some Christmas memes or cartoons this evening - following the example of Bruce at Oddball Observations. I have looked at a hundred or more with the kind assistance of Google but mostly they were very unfunny. These were two of the best I found. At least they raised chortles:-

But not brilliant were they and so instead I have resorted to bloglifting* with these two, copied directly from Bruce's blog:- 

*bloglifting is the online equivalent of shoplifting. I sincerely hope that Bruce has imbibed enough Christmas spirit to  resist the temptation to sue me.

Women

Gisèle Pelicot's face is now famous around the world. Bravely, she stood up against misogyny and against a socio-legal system that has often allowed rapists to get away, without facing the music for their cruel and sinful actions. This time, they could not blurt out the traditional excuses for there was video footage of their disgusting assaults upon a drugged and sleeping woman. Madame Pelicot's dignity through the tortuous trial and in the brash spotlight of media interest has been remarkable. She could have remained hidden from view, anonymous but as she said - why should she be the one to cower in secrecy? She was a victim not a perpetrator so she held her head up high.

Below, news journalist Mishal Husain left the BBC this week after twenty six years service. To me she was a remarkable interviewer - always calm and fluent, pursuing her interviewees in a polite but purposeful manner. She oozed intelligence and clear-headedness and refused to be intimidated. With the exception of Justin Webb, no other presenter on the Radio 4 "Today"  programme could compare with her.  As she departed on Tuesday of this week she said smilingly that she had been granted a farewell song request and the song she had chosen was "Daydream Believer" by The Monkees. It seemed such a sweet and humble choice.

Finally, not a woman but a little girl who is destined to become a woman in the fullness of time. It's our little Phoebe - less than a month short of her fourth birthday. We took her to Millhouses Park on Thursday afternoon and as she negotiated the climbing structure, I noticed  a possible picture through  the curved opening on the red wall at the end. Winter sunlight was falling nicely upon it. I didn't have my camera with me so I asked Shirley to snap a picture with her smartphone and here is the result...

I don't know how Phoebe's adult life will work out but of course I hope that it is a happy one in which, as a woman,  she fulfils some of her dreams. I want her to feel proud of who she is. Along the way, I hope she meets kind, respectful men who view women as their equals and do not seek to underestimate or abuse them. In this regard, the world still has a long way to go.

Tristan

St Joseph's Catholic Church, Tristan da Cunha

For bloggers and blog visitors who will be travelling to Tristan da Cunha in time for The Laughing Horse Blogging Awards evening, I have been doing some further research. With special permission granted, the ceremony will now be held in St Joseph's Catholic Church.

There are only 250 permanent residents on the island and all are of European descent. They tend to lead simple, communal lives in which fishing, vegetable growing and raising cattle all figure significantly. Tristan da Cunha was never settled by humans before the European era.

There is only one settlement - located on the northern plain which has rich volcanic soils. It is called Edinburgh of the Seven Seas.

Some video footage:-

I am sure you will agree that Tristan da Cunha is very likely the most unique awards venue ever selected by the Laughing Horse team. Those of you who make the effort to get there will be forging unforgettable memories. Those who discard the opportunity will be creating bundles of lifelong regrets...

Edinburgh of the Seven Seas

#2

A second foray into our secret cupboard and another random photo wallet extracted. This time I will scan four selected photos and write about them. All were snapped and printed before I acquired my very first digital camera which was twenty years ago so these prints are now very much historical. 

Long ago I wrote on the "Quality Prints" wallet "Britanny June 91 & 92 + Loire and Normandy 87" so I am expecting a bit of a mixture when I dip inside

Above - pictures taken in the north of France but because I never wrote on the back of my prints I cannot tell you in which little town I spotted the old black Citroen car. And maybe it was the same day but there's our Ian at the age of eight or nine with an interesting lace curtain behind him. It depicts two children walking in rain. I guess I will have said to him - "Just sit down there son!" before clicking the camera button.

Below, that's me - half a lifetime ago with my little darling daughter - Frances Emily. We were sitting by rocks on the north coast of Brittany. She would have been three in that photo - a few months younger than her own daughter - Phoebe Harriet is right now. Frances was such a sweet child blessed with natural intelligence and kindness - foreshadowing the woman she would become.

We had four French holidays that involved driving to campsites where tents were already set up and fully equipped with camp beds, fridges, cooking stoves, pans and cutlery etc.. Below, I believe that "Sunsites" tent was on the coast of Britanny and there's Shirley, Ian and Frances under the parasol. Ian is wearing the Hull City shirt I bought him. They were great family holidays but harder to remember with each passing year. No matter how we try, we cannot hang on to the past. Before you know it, it will become just a bunch of old pictures in a photo wallet, hidden in a cupboard .

Navels

A lot of you entered the belly button competition that I launched a few weeks back. Thank you for your participation. Belly buttons or navels are customarily overlooked as if they were of little consequence but every belly button is a physical reminder of our pre-birth connections with our mothers. It is of course the site where the knot is tied after separation.

Belly buttons can be beautiful or ugly. In some cultures - notably Turkey - belly dancing focuses all eyes upon the centre of the belly - the navel.

From the hundreds of images received at Yorkshire Pudding HQ, the expert belly button judges have picked the following seven for adulation - in reverse order...

7. "Derek" - the squinting navel of John Gray, Wales...

6. "Paddy" - the happy navel of Dave Northsider, County Cork, Ireland...

5. "Tibby" - the tattooed navel of Bruce Taylor, Arizona, USA...

4.  "Humpty" - the bulging belly button of a certain Canadian blogger who understandably wishes to remain anonymous...

3. "Juanita" - the elegant talking navel of Ms Mary Moon in northern Florida...

2. "Chardonnay" - the bejewelled navel of  JayCee Manx on The Isle of Man...

1. "Clementine" - the perfect belly button of Ellen D - retired, grandmother and supportive blog visitor residing in Illinois USA...

Ellen wins a year's pass to "Belly Up" - the top professional belly button cleaning salon in Springfield, Illinois where the world famous Simpson family dwell. Indeed, Homer is a "Belly Up" client.

In time for Christmas, the other six commended entrants will receive a complimentary personal belly button cleaner so that they can keep their navels in tip-top condition at home. (Not for use at the Christmas dinner table)

Finally:-

Great Britain's most famous navel leader (1758 - 1805).He 

was killed during a great navel conflict with French and 

Spanish ships at The Battle of Trafalgar.