MUTTLEY POND GLUTEN: March 2024

Ahem,

Muttley was one of my childhood heroes (along with Rolf Harris). As an infant TV-watcher, I thought Muttley was a philosophical genius; he could summarise all relevant social discourse into three cardinal responses: a chronic wheezy snigger; a frustrated oath-laden mutter grumble; and impatient agreement by rapid head-nodding while rasping “yeh-yeh-yeh, yeh-yeh-yeh”. It inspires me to realise that Muttley’s teachings, applied to my life, are that each day is either a ridiculous day (wheezy snigger), a frustrating day (mutter grumble), or a successful day (“yeh-yeh-yeh”). Hybrid days are rare. Boring days are from a dim and distant blast. Thus, most of life’s experiences can be summed up in a few seconds by the mighty Muttley.

Sometimes the satisfaction gathered from a successful day dissipates alarmingly on the very next day, for example when I calmly unsubscribed from Sky TV, only to discover that the TV, stripped of its expensive squidic Sky embrace, did not work at all, let alone allow good ol’ plug ‘n play terrestrial TV. Thinking that we had no aerial, I bought a fire stick to quell our early evening TV addiction but this failed to spark live terrestrial TV stations, until Alli discovered that we did have a satellite dish on the flat roof, which I had somehow missed in my earlier forensic search. The corresponding coaxial cable, however, didn’t fit into the back of the set. Before it all got too irritating, I called a cheerful chap called Steve from Crowborough who came and sorted it out in twenty minutes by removing the Sky dish and the cables that had been connected, and installing an aerial (wheezy snigger). 

Booking a hired van and a ferry was far less of a problem (yeh-yeh-yeh). I shall therefore be driving down to south west France on 29th April with a van full of boxes of my books and small pieces of furniture (the ones that won’t fit in our house) then back on Tuesday 7th May, after spending a few days in La Hune. So if anyone would like to join me on an entertaining road-trip and stopover in our dream house in France, sharing petrol and banter, in the first week of May (before it opens its doors to this season’s paying guests), then please let me know.

We have done plenty of work in the garden front and back as the weather marginally improved. Grass seed has been scattered, bushes and small trees have been clipped and weeded, flower beds have been replenished, pots have been filled, and the shed has been tidied. The renovation of our garden pool and pump was a major step forward. We celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary by giving each other a mutual present of a completely renovated and cleaned pool with a new pump system plus goldfish, waterfall, fountain, and more plants (as well as an enjoyable dinner together in Uckfield’s Picture House restaurant). While waiting for the pond to empty, Luke the pond expert kindly pressure-washed our pathway and stepping stones. He then installed everything a day later, then the fish arrived in a polythene bag and were ceremoniously poured into the pool, where they now luxuriate. Er, except that at the time of writing six days later we now can’t find any (mutter grumble).

In the middle of this all I went with daughter Ella to see comedian Bill Bailey in the Brighton Centre (my Christmas present from her). Bill Bailey is a comical, musical, and intellectual genius. His set was delivered just as if he was in a large, crowded pub, the centre of attention, talking randomly and spontaneously. I much enjoyed a poignant and comical moment at the end of the show – Bailey playing the bagpipes in the memory of his best friend Sean Lock.

Jessie and the girls organised a Mothering Sunday lunch at J3’s flat in Brighton with a vegan roast and vegetables, and roast pork for the meaters, well cooked by Jessie, and with Alli and their grandmother Kay as special guests. We had visits from our long-term friends Robert and Anne from Keymer and our newer friends Mary and Brian from Burgess Hill, and at the end of the month, Jessie and Jurrat departed for their much-planned and long-awaited honeymoon in Japan. The photos and posts that they have been sending back since indicate that this is the holiday of a lifetime. We went to Brighton one windy, rainy day to have an excellent lunch at the much-praised Burnt Orange with Fionnuala, Andrew, and Evelyn. We also had Gwen, Ella, and Sam over for a festive Easter Sunday roast lunch in which only two from five ate meat – a sign of the times. Gwen’s Brownie Boxes are yet again proving to be a great success, with a rate of orders that is keeping her hard at work.

Alli has discovered that she has become gluten intolerant, after suffering unpleasant symptoms for several weeks. She tried avoiding bread, pasta, biscuits, etc for 24 hours and the symptoms stopped completely. An early relapse with toasted breadcrumbs brought the symptoms back, so the case was clear. She now follows a gluten-free diet but sorely misses wholemeal bread. This is unrelated to the outcome of her weekly online order from Sainsbury’s for a few vegetables: carrots, parsnips, leeks, onions, apples, etc. Putting in “1”, “2” or “3” or more for the quantity of vegetables ordered, she did not realise that she was buying in kilos, not units. (I could so easily have done the same). There were no damaging consequences, and we have been enjoying several weeks of delicious vegetable soups.

Yours with a wheezy snigger,

Lionel