From the sublime to the cor blimey!

Courier Column 18 October

From the sublime to the cor blimey!

Among my friends in the village, there seems to be an informal competition to see who can run the most absurd vehicle.  And, with my latest eBay purchase, I think I’m about to take the lead.

For a while it was old Land Rovers, where Fergie – my disreputable 1970 model – rather set the benchmark. Then, last winter, a mate got his van stuck in the snow and Fergie effortlessly pulled him out. A fortnight later the friend appeared at the pub in a green Series Three Land Rover probably no more than 30 years old. However, the snow melted, and I’m not sure he’s used it since.

Meanwhile a community orchard colleague decided his Subaru wasn’t butch enough and also went shopping for a Landy. He came home with the body of a Series Two, packed with a modern Defender engine.

By complete coincidence, both these new Land Rover owners had previously run Morris Minors around the parish. So both, I contend, lost competition points in the change over – the 1960s BMC vehicles clearly being more absurd than the practical 4x4s.

Coming up pretty quickly on the inside, is our tennis club friend. He’d tried to compete with a pair of Porsches but, while eccentrically expensive, they just couldn’t cut true competition absurdity.

But his next purchase, a 1937 Rolls Royce, did. This is undoubtedly a magnificent beast – gleaming paintwork, sparkling chrome, luxuriant leather. As a mark of his dedication, he got his garage extended (though even now I’m not sure he can open the door wide enough to get out once he’s parked ‘Little Ethel’).

So, although she surely rates highly for absurdity, it’s not, I contend, high enough to beat my Jeremy (aka Clarkson’s Despair). After the sublime Roller, Jeremy is the embodiment of ridiculous. He’s a 1993 blue hatchback with an 848cc engine, and taxed as a tricycle. Got it yet? Yes, Jeremy is a Reliant Robin.

Now why, you ask, would any right thinking person want a Robin? The answer: to convert it to electric! I reckon that 90% of my journeys are less than five miles from home. Expensive and unecological to crank up the family car each time. Better by far to go electric. Trouble is I’ve yet to work out precisely how to do the conversion, but when I do – look out Ethel – Jeremy’s on your tail and surely unbeatable in the absurdity stakes.

See photo of Jeremy Robin below.

Courier Cutting

Jeremy Robin awaiting conversion

Political Correctness?

Courier Countryside Column 11^th October 2013

Coming to the table with Clean Hands

The Secretary of our Community Orchard Association got an unexpected phone call the other day.  It was from the Environmental Health Officer at Tunbridge Wells.  They’d somehow heard we were having an orchard open day with a BBQ, apple picking and juicing and produce for sale. And they were worried.

“Your volunteers and visitors are at risk from harmful bacteria such as E.Coli 0157 which can cause haemolytic uraemic syndrome and has been associated with unpasteurized apple juice,” she told us in a follow up letter. “I suggest signage to encourage visitors to wash their hands before eating, drinking and smoking.  I have enclosed a poster on how visitors should wash their hands.”

And she had. It had six diagrams of Hand Washing Techniques ranging from (1) Palm to Palm, to (6) Rotational rubbing, backwards and forwards, with clasped fingers of right hand in left palm and vice versa. (I particularly liked the addition of a little Latin.)

Now don’t get me wrong. I am as keen as anyone to avoid food poisoning. Apart from anything else it’s bad for business. But reading through the literature I began to wonder if perhaps this wasn’t all going a bit far.  I mean, I DO KNOW how to wash my hands.  I’ve been doing it for around half a century.  And the enclosed 30 page glossy booklet from the Food Standards Agency on food hygiene for businesses also had the habit of stating the blindingly obvious: “It is extremely important to make sure that food is cooked properly.” Er.  Yes.  I think we knew that. 

So here’s the dilemma.  If you are cooking anything whether in your kitchen, or on a BBQ you must surely be aware of basic food safety rules.  They’re taught at you mother’s (or father’s) knee.  Without knowing them you and your family would have spent an awful lot of time being ill.  So do we really need nannying exhortations from national and local government? How much tax-payers money are we spending on these reminders which appear to treat us as morons?  How could the human race have survived and, indeed, flourished over the millennia without such advice having been proffered? 

Oh dear, I fear I’m sounding like a crusty Colonel complaining about “political correctness gone maaaad”!  Perhaps anything that helps keep us healthier and safer is well worth the price.