Traveller

Traveller's comment on my "Report" blogpost... "Sounds lovely, welcome home. Hope we get more photos in the next few posts".

Traveller's wish is my command even though I did not take many pictures during our week on Majorca/Mallorca. But anyway, here we go...

Are you able to read this engraved padlock? It was affixed to a safety fence at the Mirador or viewpoint on Cap da Formentor. Stupidly I had neglected to have any padlocks engraved ahead of our visit. Declaring your emotional ties on a padlock is such a unique and special thing to do. What is more it is very thoughtful to share those declarations with complete strangers.  Below, the view showing the spectacular northern coastline.

This goat at Cala  San Vicenze beach was obviously the toilet attendant...

Our property had once been a rather humble farmhouse. There was much evidence of this including the "well" you can see pictured below. If you shouted into a hole in the rusty padlocked lid you could hear your echo in a deep underground tank where rainwater would have been collected in wintertime. See the terracotta piping to the right. This came down from the tiled roof. The children enjoyed hearing their voices bounce back and of course there was a troll down there who sounded suspiciously like Old Grandpa.

In the garden there was a big old stone surrounded by little trees. I suspect it may have had some ancient significance but it might have simply been a place to tether beasts of burden in days before motor vehicles.

This was a typical street scene in Pollensa, looking to Església de Nostra Senyora dels Àngels.

Back at our villa, I noticed a tenacious tree on a sunbaked stony ridge, perhaps a mile away from where we were. Can you see it, bang in the middle?

Standing on the very same spot, I zoomed in with my Lumix bridge camera - the one I almost lost at Derby railway station...

Finally, please meet The Beaver. This was my family's friendly inflatable holiday companion. Shirley had picked her up for free at the Age Concern charity shop but I was the one who who had to blow air into The Beaver's secret nozzles. In my humble opinion, everybody should  ride The Beaver at least once in their lives so we left her there for others to ride upon. I imagine that she is still smiling.

"I'm a happy beaver"

Legend

 

Most people who read this blogpost will never have heard of Phil Brown but to me he is a living legend. Back in 2008, he was the Hull City manager who led my beloved Tigers up to The Premier League for the very first time. Hell, that was eighteen years ago. Hull City had been in existence since 1904.

During his professional  playing career, he made 652 appearances as a defender for Hartlepool United, Halifax Town, Bolton Wanderers and Blackpool, scoring 46 goals. He never achieved any international recognition. Currently, he is often heard on BBC Radio 5 Live - debating football or commentating.

On Saturday afternoon my son Ian clocked him by the luggage carousels at Birmingham Airport. He was wearing pink shorts, a green Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat. I plucked up the courage to go over to talk to him...

⦿

"Hello, Phil. May I shake your hand?"

"Do I know you?"

"I'm just a lifelong Hull City fan. And I wanted to thank you for what happened back in 2008. It was one of the happiest days of my life."

"It was a very special day that's for sure."

"I discovered what tears of joy really mean."

"You won't the only one. I cried them too."

"How do you think The Tigers will do next season?"

"I think they are in with a good chance of staying up. There is togetherness and everybody seems to be pulling in the same direction. I hear they have got some imaginative signings lined up."

"Yes. There seems to be a good team spirit and Sergej Jakirović seems like a capable manager."
"I agree."
"So where have you been on your holidays?"
"We've been to Malta. It was bloody hot. Around forty degrees  in the afternoon. Where did you go?"
"Oh we've been to Majorca and it was very hot there too... Anyway, I don't want to detain you any longer. I just wanted to say thank you for May 24th, 2008. I will never forget it and it has been a real honour to meet you sir."
"Well, that's very kind of you to say so."
(They shake hands for a second time)

Report

On Carrer del Calvari, Pollensa

Our Majorcan villa, just outside the ancient town of Pollensa, was almost perfect. All four bedrooms had effective air-conditioning units which were pretty essential in that sultry heat. And the outdoor area with a lovely deep swimming pool served us well - even though the three children required responsible supervision.

Our Phoebe

My son-in-law Stewart was the barbecue king and every night we had salad and barbecued meat with a dollop of carbohydrates plus wine and beer. Of course my son Ian didn't have the meat - he had beans or a tofu alternative.

There were two or three days at the villa when I got up, put my swimming shorts on and dived in the pool and I didn't shower, get dressed or comb my hair all day. This made a nice change.

Ian and Zach at Playa Formentor

We visited Playa Formentor which Shirley and I had taken Ian to in 1986. At that time we stayed in The Hotel Cala San Vicenze where there is a little sandy cove. Interestingly, forty years later - on our second morning Ian ran there - around ten kilometers before diving into the sea and swimming out for half a mile.

Happy busker in Pollensa

The flights were on time and we didn't have any costly prangs with our two hire cars. The children were happy and healthy and I didn't watch any television or learn what was happening in the world beyond our former Majorcan farmhouse. 

Picnic time

And - oh - I met a famous person at Birmingham Airport but more about that in the next gripping episode of "Yorkshire Pudding"...

Majorca

 

Yo! I got you there with my last blogpost didn't I? "The End"? What on earth did that curmudgeonly old Yorkshire bloke mean?

Well let me start be reassuring you that I was only playing. A few out there will be disappointed when I reassure you that this blog is not over. It will continue when I get back from our holiday in Majorca, Spain.

At this very minute we should be safely ensconced in our rural villa north of Pollensa following a flight from Birmingham and a late night hire car drive to the north of the island. When I say "we", I mean all of us - me and Shirley, Ian and Zach, Frances, Stewart, Phoebe and Margot. A proper family break at the start of the school holidays here in England.

The last time I was in Majorca, Ian was eighteen months old. Forty years ago. He won't remember a thing but I remember it was a lovely holiday in the Easter period when the sunshine was comfortable, not angry as I expect it will sometimes feel during this week away.

Fortunately our villa has a swimming pool and I expect to spend a good amount of time in there. With three little children and simply to save money, I further expect that we will mostly eat in the villa but One lunchtime Shirley and I will treat everybody to a happy family meal that we will remember fondly in the dark days of winter.

This was a "scheduled post". I won't be blogging again until Saturday the 25th.

End

 

Extras

Dr Johnson memorial in Uttoxeter

Now I have had time to edit the pictures I bagged on Wednesday, I want to share another bunch with you. I know that some overseas visitors to this blog rather enjoy seeing images of Ye Olde Englande caught in the camera of a native citizen. To remind you... I went to Uttoxeter in east Staffordshire and then plodded four miles to the  village of Marchington before turning north to Marchington Woodlands, Hollingbury Hall and back to Uttoxeter, risking my life on the narrow verges of busy Highwood Road before paved footpaths thankfully reappeared.

One of the genuine delights of my retirement has been to walk in unfamiliar territory, taking photographs and seeing sights that confirm to me I am lucky to live here - in a land of beauty and history where almost everybody I meet is kind and friendly. I say this in all honesty.

The River Dove - border between Staffordshire and Derbyshire

Marchington Hall - dates back to 1690

St Peter's Church, Marchington

Church Farm, Marchington Woodlands

Two sheep near Brook House Farm

Cyclist passing the gates of Hollingsbury Hall

Back in Uttoxeter. Can you see the sheep?

$5.6m

At long last I am delighted to inform you that the former chairman of the US version of "The Apprentice" has finally paid up a portion of the money he owed Elizabeth Jean Carroll. Back in 2023, a district court in the USA had instructed him to pay over $5 million in damages for defamation and sexual abuse. With interest that figure rose to $5.6million.

In essence, the matter related to an afternoon in the mid-nineties when the orange reality TV star with the golden mane assaulted Ms Carroll in a changing room in the Bergdorf Goodman department store in New York City. This crime was compounded by his repeated lies and cynical attempts to smear his victim. He said, “She’s accusing me of rape, a woman that I have no idea who she is. It came out of the blue." He also referred to her as "a nut job" which is of course rather rich coming from him!

As months and years passed, the elderly rogue sought to use every legal appeal avenue in existence to overturn the court ruling but in the end all of his efforts were in vain. Even The Supreme Court that usually dances to his tune could find no substantive merit in his endless appealing.

As the money finally came through, E. Jean Carroll wrote, "The Eagle has landed" - a reference to the first moon landing. After all of the effort and expenditure, the mission was finally successful.

The former "Apprentice" host has a big appetite for pursuing people through the courts but when it happens to him he always kicks back. Perhaps he believes that he should be above the law

$5.6million is loose change to a guy who made many millions through shady cryptocurrency deals. However, there remains an outstanding judgement against him. Still in relation to E.Jean Carroll, he is similarly appealing against an $83 million lawsuit judgement that also involved defamation.

Through the legal system, Elizabeth Jean Carroll's intentions were never about making money. It was all about principles and justice. In fact, at one stage, she declared that she would give away any funds that were awarded to her.

In my estimation, she has been extremely brave to stand in the full glare of publicity while challenging a very powerful, extraordinarily vindictive man who has a penchant for using the law as an arsenal to get what he wants - come what may. Let us hope that in the course of time she also secures the $83 million already awarded to her before the appeals rigmarole began all over again.