254 OBA Reunion 2011.
Last year this pleasant get-together of vintage Royal Signals boy soldiers, together with their wives and partners, was held at the Ramada Tamworth (Leics.) Hotel. (Post 156 refers) This year it was at the Aspect Hotel, Tamworth. Same place. I have no idea why the name was changed, but presume it may be, as Jack Webb said in Dragnet, to protect the innocent. Whatever: the nice young people (anyone under fifty is young to me) staffing the place were mostly courteous, concerned and competent. Less so in the kitchens where nobody seemed to know how to properly roast a potato or to have any intention of frying an egg;. Perhaps they were worried about the customers’ cholesterol levels; this is, after all, a nanny state.We drove up to Oxford on Thursday 29th September and stayed overnight with our daughter Jac. She took us to dinner at the renowned Magdalen Arms (a nice pub) and we basked again in the warmth of a daughterly welcome and the inexplicable magic that is the city of dreaming spires. On Friday we made it to Tamworth; a leisurely trip on mainly far from leisurely motorways. At the hotel we were given the keys to a room. Twin beds. I gently demurred. We have been married for forty nine years and understand not the concept of twin beds. A nice receptionist fixed it. The double room we were given in its place was situated directly behind the kitchens from whence came no roast potatoes or fried eggs but did come the incessant blast of a large fan. It was like having a tent on the hard shoulder of a motorway. We were not about to complain again. It was the hottest autumn week anyone could remember and we had to have the window open the entire four inches permitted by the burglar proof locks; but a nice lass had done her best to settle us in and we could ask no more than that.
On Saturday 1st October there was an arranged coach trip to the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire where a brief service was held hallowing and dedicating a bench and memorial tree to the OBA and, at the same time, remembering all long and recently departed members, especially founder member George Severs. The trip coincided with a visit by over 10,000 bikers to the arboretum. Seems they do the ride annually to show their support for the armed forces, and they give thousands of pounds to the arboretum and to the Royal British Legion. Lovely people.
We returned to the hotel for dinner and the opportunity to take in the latest version of old friends’ reminiscences. Funny, but even when you remember the incident concerned, your memory of it seldom matches that of the storyteller. Well, the police have difficulty finding a reliable witness among people asked to recall something that happened only minutes ago, so what the hell can you expect after 60+ years?
The sun continued to shine all the way back to the Island on Sunday 2nd Oct. . I drove at what seems to be the normal motorway speed nowadays and we made it comfortably to Pompey in four hours. Far too much traffic and (though I know Yasmin Alibhai-Brown would not agree) far too many people. But I’ve said all that before.
HOME.
Floating to the dentist.
No, we weren’t on anything, we literally did float to the dentist. It all came about when, a few months ago, our old friend and long time family dentist, Keith Fradgley, retired from the Ventnor practice he shared with his son Tim and their associate, Greg Willetts. Word was that a replacement would be hard to find, not only because Keith was a vastly experienced dental surgeon, but also because he was one of a dwindling number on the Island still willing to provide decent treatment under NHS arrangements.
My Leader acted. She saw a notice in the local press that the University of Portsmouth Dental Academy was looking for volunteer patients prepared to submit themselves for treatment by suitably supervised dental students and she signed us on. Thus came about a succession of trips across the Solent to William Beatty Building in Hampshire Terrace, Portsmouth.
It has been a splendid and reassuring experience. Maureen has received treatment at the hands of several young trainees, all of them careful and gentle and likeable. She has two or three more sessions to go and is totally sanguine about them. I needed only the ministrations of a dental hygienist and she turned out to be the lovely Tara. Lucky old me. My course of treatment is now complete and we have word that Keith’s practice has at last found a successor prepared to brave the current bunch of NHS bureaucrats. Brave new dentist. So it is back to regular check-ups at Ventnor and goodbye to the forays afloat. My sincere thanks go to Portsmouth Dental Academy and all who staff it. A great team.
TELEVISION.
Timothy Spall Back at Sea. (BBC4)
Good ol’ Tim, accompanied by wife Shane, continues to chug around Britain in The Princess Matilda. He makes the odd mistake, gives way to the occasional string of profanity, is obviously popular wherever he goes, and we are all one hundred percent on his side.
So, it seems, is The Queen.
This was a short series. There has to be at least one more.
We and The Queen look forward to it.
Question Time (BBC1)
I ignored my better judgment and looked in on David Dimbleby’s programme again It was a special about 9/11. After half an hour of political people talking at, rather than to, each other, I gave up. My Leader is right. Their talk changes nothing: none of them ever listens.
It is also the case that my patience, long ago grown thin, grows perceptibly more so as time goes by.
Of course the nigh on 3,000 victims of that attack on America did not deserve to have their lives cut short: but neither did the 62,000+ civilians killed during the blitzing of Britain in the Second World War, or the “at least 132,000” civilians killed in Iraq and Afghanistan over the last ten years, or the millions of civilians slaughtered in conflict all over the world since our last war to end all wars came to an end.
Life is not fair. The scum will always rise to the top and the cavalry will never arrive on time. Politicians and profiteers are happy for it to stay that way. Why else would there be such carnage everywhere?
Get used to it. I cannot see it changing in my lifetime. Always hope it will before our grandchildren get to be my age, but doubt it.
The Secret World of Whitehall. (BBC2)
A fascinating glimpse into the world of faceless mandarins and special professional advisers (for none of whom have we voted) who unquestionably run this country.
Without them parliament really would become Lord of the Flies.
Doctor Who. (BBC1)
Another series over and the absence of the writer who created most of the characters has become ever more noticeable. That Torchwood crowd must be on cloud nine. Turns out the doctor had to die if he was not to die and that’s what he did. He then took off, suited and wearing a rather snazzy ten gallon hat. With any luck he’ll find Russell T. Davies before the next series is due to begin.
DCI Banks. (ITV1)
The reliable Stephen Tompkinson is back in another detective series. Not bad, but barely on a par with George Gently and way behind Foyle’s War.
Doctors. (BBC1)
This lunchtime soap is to general practice what the Asp was to Cleopatra. Current storylines - in which doctors and staff of The Mill Health Centre dodge in and out of the homes and lives of patients like demented stalkers - have included the sort of Agony Aunt counselling by a practice nurse that would not have been proffered by even the greenest nursing auxiliary, a burglar caught up in a wife’s retaliation when she discovers her husband’s infidelity and - running like an unmarked black van through it all - a rogue CSI man who commits murder, knows exactly how to clean up the crime scene, and has planted evidence to frame one of the doctors. It’s enough to make Horatio Caine forswear his sunglasses.
Merlin. (BBC1)
Never mind the departure of Doctor Who. Episode 1 of Merlin did not disappoint: there was sorcery, suspense, derring-do and a cliffhanger ending. Yep, he’s back! Hooray!
READING.
Graham Hurley.
Finished Permissible Limits still aware that I am unlikely to become a best selling thriller writer, but almost convinced I could fly a P-51 Mustang. Mr. Hurley can have that effect on you. You will have to buy the book to discover what I mean.
FOOTNOTE.
With the to-ing and fro-ing and an absence of prompting from the cat Shadow (who took advantage of the sunny weather to pose on the scooter in next door's front garden) I am late with this post. Thank gawd I don't have a deadline.
My Leader acted. She saw a notice in the local press that the University of Portsmouth Dental Academy was looking for volunteer patients prepared to submit themselves for treatment by suitably supervised dental students and she signed us on. Thus came about a succession of trips across the Solent to William Beatty Building in Hampshire Terrace, Portsmouth.
It has been a splendid and reassuring experience. Maureen has received treatment at the hands of several young trainees, all of them careful and gentle and likeable. She has two or three more sessions to go and is totally sanguine about them. I needed only the ministrations of a dental hygienist and she turned out to be the lovely Tara. Lucky old me. My course of treatment is now complete and we have word that Keith’s practice has at last found a successor prepared to brave the current bunch of NHS bureaucrats. Brave new dentist. So it is back to regular check-ups at Ventnor and goodbye to the forays afloat. My sincere thanks go to Portsmouth Dental Academy and all who staff it. A great team.
TELEVISION.
Timothy Spall Back at Sea. (BBC4)
Good ol’ Tim, accompanied by wife Shane, continues to chug around Britain in The Princess Matilda. He makes the odd mistake, gives way to the occasional string of profanity, is obviously popular wherever he goes, and we are all one hundred percent on his side.
So, it seems, is The Queen.
This was a short series. There has to be at least one more.
We and The Queen look forward to it.
Question Time (BBC1)
I ignored my better judgment and looked in on David Dimbleby’s programme again It was a special about 9/11. After half an hour of political people talking at, rather than to, each other, I gave up. My Leader is right. Their talk changes nothing: none of them ever listens.
It is also the case that my patience, long ago grown thin, grows perceptibly more so as time goes by.
Of course the nigh on 3,000 victims of that attack on America did not deserve to have their lives cut short: but neither did the 62,000+ civilians killed during the blitzing of Britain in the Second World War, or the “at least 132,000” civilians killed in Iraq and Afghanistan over the last ten years, or the millions of civilians slaughtered in conflict all over the world since our last war to end all wars came to an end.
Life is not fair. The scum will always rise to the top and the cavalry will never arrive on time. Politicians and profiteers are happy for it to stay that way. Why else would there be such carnage everywhere?
Get used to it. I cannot see it changing in my lifetime. Always hope it will before our grandchildren get to be my age, but doubt it.
The Secret World of Whitehall. (BBC2)
A fascinating glimpse into the world of faceless mandarins and special professional advisers (for none of whom have we voted) who unquestionably run this country.
Without them parliament really would become Lord of the Flies.
Doctor Who. (BBC1)
Another series over and the absence of the writer who created most of the characters has become ever more noticeable. That Torchwood crowd must be on cloud nine. Turns out the doctor had to die if he was not to die and that’s what he did. He then took off, suited and wearing a rather snazzy ten gallon hat. With any luck he’ll find Russell T. Davies before the next series is due to begin.
DCI Banks. (ITV1)
The reliable Stephen Tompkinson is back in another detective series. Not bad, but barely on a par with George Gently and way behind Foyle’s War.
Doctors. (BBC1)
This lunchtime soap is to general practice what the Asp was to Cleopatra. Current storylines - in which doctors and staff of The Mill Health Centre dodge in and out of the homes and lives of patients like demented stalkers - have included the sort of Agony Aunt counselling by a practice nurse that would not have been proffered by even the greenest nursing auxiliary, a burglar caught up in a wife’s retaliation when she discovers her husband’s infidelity and - running like an unmarked black van through it all - a rogue CSI man who commits murder, knows exactly how to clean up the crime scene, and has planted evidence to frame one of the doctors. It’s enough to make Horatio Caine forswear his sunglasses.
Merlin. (BBC1)
READING.
Graham Hurley.
Finished Permissible Limits still aware that I am unlikely to become a best selling thriller writer, but almost convinced I could fly a P-51 Mustang. Mr. Hurley can have that effect on you. You will have to buy the book to discover what I mean.
FOOTNOTE.
With the to-ing and fro-ing and an absence of prompting from the cat Shadow (who took advantage of the sunny weather to pose on the scooter in next door's front garden) I am late with this post. Thank gawd I don't have a deadline.
