It was pouring with rain at 6 o’clock this morning, and I was standing on a chair in the porch in my dressing gown, with a torch, marking up the locations of the drips. Green dots this time. Clearly, it’s not fixed yet…….. This saga will run and run…….
It poured with rain on Friday night, really tipped it down on occasions. I went into the porch with a torch, looking for damp patches and leaks, but couldn’t see any! The porch roof actually seemed to be water-tight! Mind you, I don’t want to be over-hasty in declaring the problem fixed. As PaulD pointed out in one of the comments to an earlier update, I perhaps haven’t taken sufficient account of the wind direction, and it could yet be a problem if the wind is driving in from a different quarter. But I’m hopeful…….
When Tim the pest controller visited last time, he predicted that the mice would be back in November, and I had a note pencilled in my diary to give him a pre-emptive call this month. But then I started hearing scrabbling sounds at night again, which indicated that the mice were back. I phoned Tim on Monday morning, and he came round that afternoon to investigate and lay some more bait.
He poked around in the loft a bit and confirmed that I do indeed have mice up there again, and that they had taken all of the bait that he had left out last time. He also added the unwelcome news that there were fresh squirrel droppings up there too – but fortunately no sign of rats. The squirrel should be affected by the same bait as the mice, but in addition he has left a live trap outside the house to attempt to catch it. I have to check it twice a day, and am under instructions to call him immediately if it traps anything, as he doesn’t want me to have to deal with an angry and vicious live squirrel. It was interesting watching him decide where to place the trap – he says that after so many years of working as a pest controller, he knows the correct place as soon as he sees it, because he can effectively “think like a squirrel”.
The trap has been there for a few days now and so far has caught nothing. The mice, on the other hand, are clearly taking the bait as they are getting louder again. The scrabbling and tap-dancing directly above my bed was so bad at 3am last night that I had to move into the spare room to try to get some sleep ahead of a long day back down at our Hampshire HQ again today. I think I’ll be sleeping in the spare bed again tonight, as they don’t seem to like to run about so much above that room.
I was back at Eastnor Pottery again today, finishing off the pots and plates which I threw last month. The idea is that you put the “leather-hard” pots back on the wheel-head, upside down, then get them exactly centred (not easy, particularly if the pot is a bit wobbly) and stick it in place with soft clay. Then you can turn away the excess clay from the base of the pot to make it less heavy, add a foot-ring, and generally tidy it up before decorating it.
I had a bit of a disaster with my first pot today. I didn’t secure it well enough to the wheel-head, and it flew off at high speed when I was trying to neaten up the base. That of course bashed it out of shape, and although I managed to coax it back into something almost circularly symmetrical, I was less than pleased with the finished article. I’ll have to see how it comes out once it’s been glazed and fired. I may have done enough to rescue it. Otherwise it will be landfill!
I was much more conservative when sticking down the other pots and plates, and had no further problems. Out of the four lids I threw last time, three were a good enough fit to a pot to make a pair. The remaining lid didn’t properly fit anything so went into the recycling bid to be reclaimed and reused. Then I had to decorate them in pairs, so that I can tell later which lid I’ve decided to pair with which pot.
The pottery was very busy today. There were three other people who were on day two of a weekend course, so they were turning the pots they threw yesterday. They all had been exceedingly prolific and had at least a dozen pots each which they were aiming to finish today. By the time I left mid-afternoon they were still frantically turning away, and hadn’t started painting their pots yet, so they were going to have their work cut out! Everything that was finished today will then be thoroughly dried out (if there is any moisture left at all, the pot will explode in the kiln, potentially taking others with it) then fired, glazed and fired a second time. They should be ready in time for Christmas, which is just as well as several of today’s pots are intended as Christmas presented.
Also working in a corner of the pottery was a Swedish couple who are doing a sort of work-experience trip around the UK. The woman is a ceramics student in Sweden and as part of her course is expected to spend half a term travelling and working with established potters to learn from them. She had dragged her boyfriend, a mechanic, along as well, and they were spending the weekend helping Jon the Potter with some tasks around the pottery, as well as making some tiles for an ongoing job he is working on. They have been travelling round the UK for several weeks, and when she gets back to Sweden she is expected to write a short dissertation on what she’d learned, and give a presentation to the rest of the class. She realises that it’s very difficult to establish yourself as an artisan potter – it’s difficult to sell pots for enough money to support yourself unless you are a “known name” and therefore collectable – but how do you bootstrap that? And it seems that what she’s learned in the last few weeks is that it’s no easier in the UK than it is in Sweden.
We were talking over lunch, and she was very keen to find a way to make her ceramics pay, but recognised that she would probably need several sidelines to help bring in enough money. She would like to go into partnership with her sister who is a cook and confectioner, and open a ceramics cafe. She’s been spending this work experience period doing some research into how small pottery businesses manage here in the UK, including looking at ceramics cafes. It made me glad that my pottery is only a hobby, and that I don’t need to find a way to monetise it!
At this time of year, cooking apples seem to be pretty cheap and plentiful, and I’ve always enjoyed a baked apple for dessert. But I really can’t be bothered to wait for the oven to heat up and then bake an apple from scratch, especially not mid-week when my energy and patience are typically pretty limited. But then I remembered that years ago Chris used to do baked apples in the microwave, so I went digging through my cookbooks to find the recipe. It turned out to be buried deep within “Microwave Gourmet” by Barbara Kafka which seems to be out of print, but available second-hand from Amazon.
You’re meant to take a bramley cooking apple, score the skin round the equator (to stop it exploding) and core it. But I simply don’t have enough strength in my wrists to core it successfully, even with a so-called apple-corer. So I cut the apple in half along the equator then core each half separately with a sharp knife. Then put the cored apple (or half apples, cut-side up) into a microwaveable dish, preferably not touching the sides. Stuff the hole with mincemeat – I use about one teaspoonful per half apple. Then drizzle some maple syrup into the hole on top of the mincemeat. Then optionally pour a generous glug of brandy into the hole as well. I’ve been using up the last of the fig brandy I brought back from Dubrovnik last summer (it’s fierce stuff, and cooking with it is much better than drinking it neat!), but ordinary brandy would do too.
Then cover with cling film – making an airtight seal but not stretched too tightly over the apples. Microwave on full power for 2 mins 30 sec for one apple. According to the cookbook, 4 apples should take 4 min 45sec, and 6 apples should take 9 minutes. As soon as the microwave goes “ping”, pierce the clingfilm with a sharp knife to release the vacuum. I remember once that Chris neglected this vital step, as we were watching the TV and he thought he’d wait until the ad break. The clingfilm squashed the apples so flat, that they completely lost their shape and were little more than apple puree! Leave to rest for a few minutes (they will be very hot) and then serve with the hot syrup poured over the top. I like to add lashings of double cream at this point too! Absolutely delicious, and only takes minutes!
Far from being a day of rest, Sunday is my day for doing the chores around the house. The usual sort of thing – changing the bedclothes, doing the laundry, putting the bins out ready for bin-day on Monday, paying bills, and generally keeping on top of household things that need sorting out. Which this Sunday meant replacing the bulb in one of the outside lights, which blew during the week.The nights are drawing in so much now, that it’s been dark by the time I get home, and if I have to head off to our Hampshire HQ (a weekly occurrence at the moment) then it’s dark when I leave in the mornings too, so it was inconvenient not being able to light up the path.
The bulb was one of those long-life low-wattage ones, and was several years old. I’ve never had to change it before – the last time it blew, Chris was still alive and well and changed it himself without any bother. I found it rather more of a challenge. For a start, I’m significantly shorter than he was, and I couldn’t reach the light fitting by standing on a chair, so I had to get the step-ladder out. And even then, with no one to hold it steady, I couldn’t safely get it close enough to the side of the house to easily reach the light. I ended up with one foot on the top of the step-ladder and the other on the windowsill – rather precarious! Then I found that the nuts that hold the glass lamp-cover in place had (a) rusted and (b) been painted over by my decorator since the bulb was last changed, so altogether they were thoroughly seized in place. That meant I needed to rootle around in Christopher’s tool-box for an adjustable spanner, then climb back up the ladder, balance on the windowsill, and try to apply enough torque to loosen the nuts. Having done that, I changed the bulb, checked that it worked, and then tried to reassemble the light fitting. I needed at least one more pair of hands than I had! I wasn’t able to do the fittings up as tightly as I should like, so I’m not entirely convinced the housing is still water-tight, but I did the best I could. Next time it blows I think I’ll have ask the window-cleaner to change it, even if I have to slip him an extra fiver – some things are well worth paying someone else to do!
Marking the leaks - a different colour spot for each rainstorm
The saga of my leaking porch roof is still ongoing. I’ve withheld a sum of money from the builder’s most recent invoice until the leak is fixed to my satisfaction, and in the meantime I’m noting the effects of each rainstorm with coloured sticky spots indicating the centre of each puddle on the porch floor. You can make out the orange spots from three weeks ago, and the yellow dots which I marked up using a torch in the downpour late on Wednesday night. The purple spots from two weeks ago haven’t come out in this picture – they blend into the tiles too well.
I phoned the builders on Thursday morning to give them an update on the evolving decor on my porch floor, and told them that I still have green and blue spots in reserve for future rainstorms! Fortunately we can all laugh about it. They accept that it’s their responsibility to get it fixed, and have said that I’m being entirely reasonable in the sum I’m holding back – which makes me think that I should have retained more, but never mind…. I was told that the boss would phone me back to arrange access and tell me his plans on what he’d try next, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I was sitting reading the newspaper over breakfast this morning in my dressing gown when a white van pulled up on the drive and two roofers leapt out. If I’d known they were coming I would have made sure I was dressed, but fortunately my dressing gown is long and fluffy and covers absolutely everything!
They’ve had another go at it, and think they’ve identified the root cause – a bent bit of lead that was directing water in the wrong direction. That’s now been remedied, and they think that should fix it. I remain sceptical however, and will wait until after the next heavy downpour before I pronounce myself satisfied.
I spent three days last week at our Hampshire HQ, having a series of all-day meetings with my customers, so that meant staying for two nights down there. There is a dearth of good quality accommodation in the area, particularly at a price that the corporate hotel booking system deems acceptable, so I stayed again at the same place as usual. It may be (more than) a bit idiosyncratic, but at least I know what I’m letting myself in for.
They seemed to have smartened up their act a bit since last time I was there. After the huge fuss I made in January about the lack of Earl Grey teabags over breakfast (which culminated in a colleague nipping out one lunchtime to buy me a box just to shut me up, which I then placed prominently on the breakfast table) I was pleased to see that they had a supply in stock this time. I must have made a bit of an impression as the waiting staff recognised me, welcomed me back, and informed me that they’d changed the menu since I last ate there. Not significantly though; I still found it unimaginative and limited. But to be fair, I should report that I did have one rather good meal there – grilled chicken breast, dauphinoise potatoes and green beans, followed by chocolate mousse with pistachios, all of which was very tasty and enjoyable. But they didn’t even get that right – I ordered it, and just a few minutes later a waiter brought me the chocolate mousse! I waved it away and said that I wanted to be conventional and have the main course first…..
It did rather annoy me though that all the waiters had a verbal tic and told me to “Enjoy”. Fair enough I suppose for the main course, but it’s completely unnecessary and unwarranted when they are merely refilling my glass of tap water! If it was a double brandy that would be a different matter, but I’d never get that through the expenses system!
On Monday, after living in Malvern for over thirty years in total, I finally visited the Morgan factory for the first time. Locals will know full well what I’m talking about, but some of my more distant readers may not know that Malvern has been the home of the Morgan Motor Car company for over 100 years. They are the last remaining family-run car company in the UK, and have what can only be described as an idiosyncratic approach to building very fast classic cars. Everything is famously hand-built by craftsmen (and they were all men, the only women to be seen were at the Reception and serving the coffees), and there isn’t an assembly-line or robot in the factory. I took some pictures on the way around the factory, and I’m going to apologise in advance for the quality of the photos. I didn’t want to use the flash as I thought it would be very rude to disturb the craftsmen, so the snaps are rather blurry. But they should be good enough that you can get the gist.
The day didn’t go to plan at the outset. The visit was arranged by some friends who had got a small party together, which included their small children – the boy in particular is fascinated by cars. They had taken the precaution of phoning to check that the children were welcome, and were told that whilst it was not actively recommended for under-5s, it was at the parents’ discretion. However, when we all met up five minutes before the factory tour started, they were told that “Elf’n’Safety” meant an absolute ban on the children visiting the workshops, and that the policy had changed from what they had been verbally assured just a few days ago. That was extremely annoying. We had a (very polite) argument amongst ourselves about what to do, which ended up with myself and one friend carrying on with the tour but feeling extremely guilty about doing so.
A view of the Morgan workshop
It was absolutely fascinating seeing the cars being hand-built. Each is built to order, for a specific named customer, whose paper-work accompanies the car through the sequence of work-shops. The factory is built on a slope, and the car bodies start off in workshops at the top of the slope, before moving downhill at each stage. Some of the models are wheeled between the workshops, but the top-of-the-range ones are actually driven from one building to the next, even in a totally bare state! There are so many options (paint colour, leather colour, wood-stain colour, position of the exhaust pipes, left/right hand drive, four basic models with variants) that I don’t think that any two cars we saw were the same. Several of the models use very traditional “coach-building” techniques, based around a hand-built ash sub-frame and steel chassis. Needless to say, Morgan are the only car company left using these traditional techniques. We were told that each of the aluminium body panels is individually made to fit a particular car, and would not necessarily fit the car next along the line, even if that was nominally the same model. It was very noisy indeed in that part of the factory, as each panel was hammered into shape.
Jig being used to shape ash laminates for part of the car body
I had thought that perhaps the Morgan factory would be firmly stuck in the past – in the early part of the twentieth century in fact. In 1991 they famously turned down the suggestions of John Harvey-Jones, who was a consultant who wanted them to streamline and mechanise their production lines. But while they are extremely prod of their heritage, and won’t change just for the sake of it, they are also a very innovative company, happy to adopt new technology when it suits them. Their top-of-the-range super-car has body-panels made from super-formed aluminium, where hot panels of sheet metal are effectively blown into shape using air-pressure. Morgan were the first car manufacturer to adopt this technology, which was originally developed for forming aircraft nose-cones, though several other more main-stream car manufacturers have now followed suit.
All in all, it was a fascinating and very instructive two hours, ending in a small but interesting museum and the obligatory shop. I forwent the implied retail opportunity – I’m really not in the market for a new car, let alone one as expensive as these! I am however kicking myself that it’s taken me so long to get around to visiting the factory. Christopher would have absolutely loved it – and would have taken many more and better photos! And it’s a real shame that our friends and the children were unable to join the visit – though I do see that an active workshop is perhaps not the best place for an inquisitive toddler.
“…You have a most unusual and very interesting family tree……” If those words were spoken by a genealogist or family historian, one might be flattered. But, as my sister says, when they come from a clinical researcher looking into a genetic predisposition to a number of cancers which run in the family, it’s a rather less positive statement!
Birmingham Women’s Hospital is continuing its ongoing investigation into whether the women in my family are merely victims of a (very) large number of unfortunate coincidences, or whether there is something more causal and deterministic going on. It’s taking a long time to do the study, but we’re hardly an urgent case. All the people in the family who have had cancer are either already dead from it or currently in remission, and my sister and I are both healthy and firmly enrolled in the appropriate screening programmes. Indeed, I’ve just been called for my next annual mammogram early next month, so if anything does develop there is a good chance of catching it early.
The focus of attention is currently a few generations above me. They have already sequenced DNA from my mother, looking specifically at the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes (known to be linked to a predisposition to breast cancer) and a couple of other sequences in the genome that are linked to much rarer clusters of cancers which also seem to run in the family. It looks like they’ve ruled out the rare and very nasty possibilities, and also have ascertained that the BRCA1 gene is normal. However, they have identified a mutation on the BRCA2 gene. Very interestingly, it’s not the standard mutation which is known to increase the risk of breast cancer, but a different mutation that they haven’t seen before. Trust my family to throw up something new to medical science!
At the moment it is unclear as to whether that BRCA2 mutation is just a coincidence or a significant risk factor. So now they want to sequence the relevant part of the genome of my 92-year old gran, to see if she has it too. If she does, then (since she has had breast cancer in the past), that would be corroborative evidence that there is a link. That process is likely to take several more months, so we don’t expect to hear anything more until well into next year.
It’s all very interesting, but not conclusive of anything yet. And even if they do decide that the new BRCA2 mutation is clinically significant, it doesn’t mean that either my sister or I have necessarily inherited it, nor (even if we have) that we will inevitably develop the disease. So it’s a case at the moment of carrying on with the screening programme, and awaiting further information. I’m not good at waiting, but I’d much rather they were thorough in their investigations. And if there is something new and dodgy lurking on our genome, then as a research scientist I can only be pleased that it’s being uncovered, as it might help other people in the future.
