Monday, 27 August 2012
Holiday
Had two weeks away in our dilapidated old caravan. One aim was to make the most of our NT membership. We managed four properties in the first week and then got rather jaded.
Met us with some old friends at Buscot Park (our third site), maybe you can spot us among the terracotta warriors. If not the next one will reveal all.
And then we went to Chastleton House. Last time we were there, maybe 28 years ago, it had been in private hands.
We took a photo of the front doorsteps, for old times' sake......
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
Supermarket Hate
I am getting increasingly to hate supermarket shopping. The one advantage they have over a village shop is Choice. But now the Choice had become an exercise in arithmetical calculation. I want a chicken. Just a chicken. But I have to compare price per kilo, or price per item, free range or not, place or origin, type of feed and probably more that my confused brain can't recall.
The same goes for the vulgar sounding Bogoffs. I may only want some tomatoes but now I have to wrestle with brain, and conscience, over whether I really need two lots for the price of one because it's an amazing bargain regardless of the fact I may have to throw half away because they'll be bad before I finish them. And no, I don't want to spend a day making tomato jam. Or would I like 3 for the price of two and have some peaches maybe, and some other item thrown in, although I was trying to stick to my menu and my shopping list.
The whole thing is getting horrendous and I don't believe it saves money because the choice thing means you see more stuff to buy you hadn't even thought of buying. And if it is terribly cheap, then who is losing out? Certainly not the supermarket, so some poor producer somewhere. Which is another problem for my conscience.
I was around when the first supermarkets arrived. Our local was a George Mason, and it was seven miles away. Before then my mother phoned her weekly grocery list to my Auntie Jean who brought the shopping in her van, the milk was delivered daily, the butcher was a mile's walk away or he delivered, and there was a village shop for other items. It was service. Now I wonder who is serving whose interests.
The same goes for the vulgar sounding Bogoffs. I may only want some tomatoes but now I have to wrestle with brain, and conscience, over whether I really need two lots for the price of one because it's an amazing bargain regardless of the fact I may have to throw half away because they'll be bad before I finish them. And no, I don't want to spend a day making tomato jam. Or would I like 3 for the price of two and have some peaches maybe, and some other item thrown in, although I was trying to stick to my menu and my shopping list.
The whole thing is getting horrendous and I don't believe it saves money because the choice thing means you see more stuff to buy you hadn't even thought of buying. And if it is terribly cheap, then who is losing out? Certainly not the supermarket, so some poor producer somewhere. Which is another problem for my conscience.
I was around when the first supermarkets arrived. Our local was a George Mason, and it was seven miles away. Before then my mother phoned her weekly grocery list to my Auntie Jean who brought the shopping in her van, the milk was delivered daily, the butcher was a mile's walk away or he delivered, and there was a village shop for other items. It was service. Now I wonder who is serving whose interests.
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Family reunion
All the children (well nearly), first or second cousins to one another.
The age range, 3 weeks to 92 years. Well done, Auntie Joan.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Favourite photo
Young photographer of the weekend took my favourite photo: a rare one of all my three offspring looking good, smiling even, at the same time.
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