Showing posts from November, 2013

Dark iClouds over Hastings....the shock of the new?

Making new bits of technological equipment work is far too traumatic. 
     The beautifully designed shiny new things nestle excitingly in their lovely boxes, but the experience of unpacking them is always overshadowed by a sense of dread....what will happen when the 'on' switch is pressed.
     Chez Battleaxe, I thought the arrival of Philosopher's Windows 8 computer would take a lot of beating on the trauma scale - the howling and cursing went on for weeks, and can still erupt again if anything new is tried.       However, this week I got a new iPhone 5s.  Philosopher is getting my 4s instead of his old one, partly because he wanted a better phone camera - and that one is good.  I have been with Vodafone so long I get very good deals, so decided to upgrade.  I won't go into the boring nerdy details of it but suffice it to say I could not download my stuff off the iCloud onto the new phone.     After much wailing and gnashing I eventually phoned up Apple - they now appe…

Redoubt Fortress, Martello Towers, Writers' Group, Women's Institute

We went to Eastbourne and visited the Redoubt Fortress on our way to Waitrose.
     Philosopher has bought a book on Martello Towers and it mentioned the fortress, which apparently oversaw all the 74 towers from Seaford to Folkestone. We didn't even know it existed.
     It is an interesting circular structure, with a series of barrack rooms opening onto a central courtyard. It is now a military museum for the former Royal Sussex Regiment and Irish Hussars. The museum was wonderfully crowded, with cabinets full of every imaginable category of uniform and accoutrement. A nineteenth century officer could expect to have a minimum of ten different uniforms.  Shakos, pelises, glengarrys, bandoliers....   How about
sabrage, the art of opening a champagne bottle with a sabre....or nose clips for horses to wear in battle.... And as for the medals and decorations.... cabinet after cabinet. Some big-wigs had so many medals and fancy decorations hanging off coloured ribbons that it must ha…

Wet, wet, The Habit of Art at Bexhill, Hastings herring festival

Readers of this blog often say that life in Battleaxe Land seems to be a continuous round of sunny walks and cakes in quaint tea rooms. 
     Well, not this week, I can tell you. The weather has been evil. It has rained incredibly hard for long periods. At the beginning of the week 'Hamilton Springs' - the  little stream that surprised us by suddenly flowing from under the house one time last winter, made a second appearance, burbling busily down the drive and out down the road.  Last year the neighbours said it hadn't been seen for 25 years, and now it appears two years running - what does this mean? I tried to photograph it but it was hard against the light, and by the time I tried again it had dried up once more. Yesterday it was incredibly wet, and it was out there yet again.....
     Couple this wetness with still being infested with the same horrid cold/virus thing I mentioned in the last blog post, and this week has not been the best. I went to the doctors on Monday…

Hastings Half-term, Great Storm? traffic traumas, Brum again....

Last week was grand daughter Eve's half-term.
     On Monday morning we drove up to Beaconsfield Services to collect her from her Dad - yes, I said drove, and yes up the A21, even though it was The Morning After The Great Storm....a bit of an anticlimax, really. I was awake for ages in the night waiting for the roof to blow off, but our house is substantially more solid than our rackety old Victorian heap in Birmingham, and clearly the wind was not that strong anyway.
     Before we left we went down to the sea to look at the waves, which were big but not awe-inspiringly so. 
There was one tree blocking the A21, which was cleared away before we got there, and a few odd saplings and branches sticking out of the hedge into the road, but nothing that exciting really, and hardly any cars, so made better progress than usual.
     In the evening when we had brought Eve back I went down to Writers' Group.  It was the results of the journalism competition.  I wrote a rather dull piec…

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