"Hang on to your Hat."

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Jolly boating weather for some.

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But not so good for others.

Sandy Bay Yacht Club,

The following are either cancelled or postponed:

Saturday's & Sunday's Races are cancelled.

Sunday Morning Coffee is cancelled.

Sunday After Race Social is cancelled.

Sunday's Annual Meeting for Members is postponed until Sunday, September 4th at 11:00 a.m.

Ben's BBQ this Saturday night is postponed until a date to be determined.

And to make things worse I read this:-

SITUATION OVERVIEW…(from the Yacht Club Weather Bulletin)

HURRICANE IS MOVING TO THE NORTH NORTHEAST AND WILL AFFECT SOUTHERN ENGLAND SATURDAY NIGHT AND SUNDAY.

A HURRICANE WARNING CONTINUES FOR THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS...

SOUTHERN BRISTOL...SOUTHERN PLYMOUTH...BARNSTABLE .

A TROPICAL STORM WARNING CONTINUES FOR THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS...

...NORTHERN WORCESTER...CENTRAL MIDDLESEX...WESTERN ESSEX ...EASTERN ESSEX ...WESTERN HAMPSHIRE ...EASTERN HAMPSHIRE ...

SOUTHERN WORCESTER...WESTERN NORFOLK ...SOUTHEAST MIDDLESEX...SUFFOLK ...EASTERN NORFOLK ...NORTHERN BRISTOL ...

WESTERN PLYMOUTH ...EASTERN PLYMOUTH ...NORTHERN MIDDLESEX

AND WESTERN KENT.

THE POSSIBILITY EXISTS FOR 5 TO 10 INCHES OF RAINFALL ACROSS

SOUTHERN NEW ENGLAND WITH THE HIGHEST AMOUNTS ACROSS THE

INTERIOR...PARTICULARLY THE EAST SLOPES OF THE BERKSHIRES.

THE NEXT LOCAL STATEMENT WILL BE ISSUED BY THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN TAUNTON AROUND 7 AM EDT...OR SOONER IF CONDITIONS WARRANT.

Sandy Bay Yacht Club,

Rockport, Massachusetts.

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Did that get you guessing?

Some familiar place-names mentioned here,

don't you think?

Hang on to your hat Deb!

We 're thinking of you here in little 'OLD England'.

Shame about Ben’s BBQ !

Now back over here,

I'm finding that things -

are 'getting on top of me' a bit.

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So I'm just going to have a wee break.

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Little 'b' at Weston-super-Mare, circa 1947.

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No more jellied eels, my friend.

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It is nearly three years ago that I finally decided to have a go at this blogging lark.

I had of course been reading, and enjoying blogs for a few years before that.

One of first blogs I followed was that of a charming lady of great character, living in Devon.

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An ex Londoner, I think, from the 'East-end'.

I only think that, rather than know it,

as she was rather keen on - jellied eels.

“Please, will someone send me down some jellied eels.”

she used to say on her blog.

I remember finding a fishmonger, I think in Reading, who would post them frozen, to anywhere in the UK - but at a cost of course.

“I wanted jellied eels, not caviar!” she replied.

So, alas, my poor Devonshire Dumpling never got her ‘last wish’.

She got her winkles.....

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from Baggy Point ........

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.....just up the coast from Bideford where she had her ‘mud hut’.

She got her Chinese take-a-way in Bideford,

but no ‘Eel pie’ from her beloved ’East-end’.

Why am I telling you this?

Well, I am very, very much saddened today to hear that this charming and witty blogger friend had passed quietly away from the bloggersphere and left another, unfillable hole in my list of followers.

God bless you Yvonne.

I’m so very sorry to loose you, I’m also so sorry we never got to meet up, and I’m ever so sorry you never got to taste again, those lovely ’East-end’ favourites - ’Jellied eels’.

Rest in peace.

Bernard. xxx

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From her blogger profile.

Yvonne-Hadley-Jones

An Eastender who now lives in North Devon. Bookworm, loves cooking and The Arts and anything to do with the sea. Freelance photographer. Lives with a Spaniel named Raki and a Cockatiel called Harry who thinks he's a fruit bat. Adores dolphins, rainbows, photography and nature and enjoys long walks in the countryside. Hates man's inhumanity towards man and ill treatment of animals- and totally detests the labour party, football, and the bloody EU.

"....and totally detests the labour party,

football, and the bloody EU."

Amen to that!

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"There's fleas and ticks and that."

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"Time for bed" said Zebedee!

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Now why would I be taking a stout pair

of leather gloves into the bedroom?

No.

It's nothing to do with leather boots I assure you!

Nor "fleas and ticks"!

It's to do with hedgehogs.

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I am very fond of Hedgehogs

Which makes me want to say,

That I am struck with wonder,

How there’s any left today,

For each morning as I travel

And no short distance that,

All I see are Hedgehogs,

Squashed. And dead. And flat.

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But not on my back yard.

In the summer the cats like to be fed outside.

Hazel has just had a pick around,

and wandered off (on the left) to look at the stars,

and Mrs H moves in quick....

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And polishes off everything that is left.

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Now last week, Wesley came through the cat-flap in a bit of a hurry and broke the little door off. Of course the hole was still there and guess who decided to come in and snout around for food?

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Mrs H.

I heard this snorting in the bedroom and there she was.

Lost her bearings and couldn't navigate back to the conservatory.

This happened three nights 'on the trot',

hence the leather gloves..

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A Hedgehog cannot make you laugh,

Whistle, dance or sing,

And she ain’t much to look at,

And she don’t make anything.

Except baby hedgehogs!

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This 'mother' hedgehog has been bringing her three babies round every evening to show them where to get a really good 'takeaway'.

I now scrape the leftovers into a plastic 'plant saucer',

They make less mess with it's higher sides.

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I couldn't get a picture of all four.

They are quite shy.

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And in amongst their prickles,

There’s fleas and ticks and that,

But there ain’t no need to leave them,

Squashed. And dead. And flat.

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The wee bits of poetry are of course,

by the talented Pam Ayres.

And......I have fitted a nice nooooo flap,

and I no longer need to take gloves to bed!

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UPDATE: I did try a go at filming Mrs. H.

Not very good, I'm afraid, there was poor light.

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"But a Very Good Blower."

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In Thame there is a wee shop with the name

"John the Stitcher".

It is about 8 feet wide and piled high

with leather, in rolls, in sheets

and in thousands of bits all over the

walls and floor.

In fact it is quite difficult to get in,

and very dim inside when you do.

I needed a small bit of leather to make the bellows

for the drum unit I am constructing.

So, in I go -

"Good morning John.

Could you sell me a small piece of leather

for some bellows I am making?"

"No!"

I was just about to turn and leave when he had second thoughts and said that he only had, red leather for bellows.

I said, I didn't mind what colour and showed him my sample piece.

"No don't sell that! That's sheep's skin."

So that was that!

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This is also a 'John', but not living in Thame.

He is John Jones, who makes and restores bellows

in a workshop behind his house in Wiltshire.

Now he, looks a kind and helpful chap.

However, I decided to have a go at using

'Blackout Cloth'.

It's not as long lasting as leather, but quite a few

people use it for bellows in small organs.

I thought you may like to see how it's done?

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Cardboard stiffeners are stuck to

the inside before folding.

Sorry, I got this picture in the wrong position......

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....but it shows WW2 blackout curtains

being drawn in a cinema.

And whilst I was Google-ing for 'blackout',

I found this!

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Painting a cow so that it could be seen

in the dark during the blackouts.

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Anyway, back to my bellows.

Here is the finished thing all folded and

tuck'd and stuck'd.

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The little valve is tucked up in his little

airtight box (with a perspex lid)

and he will be lifted up by a 'Puff '.

No, not a 'poof', but a 'puff'.

(Can you say things like that, these days?)

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The 'puff' is a wee leather bag,

about the size of a postage stamp, which inflates

and raises the valve sitting above it.

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Cheating - I lifted it by hand.

I tried to blow down the pipe and take a picture

at the same time but found I didn't have enough hands!

So, enough 'hot-air' from me.

I must get back into the workshop

and assemble it all with the tambourine.

Before I go, I'll leave you with a dittie.

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"Here lies the body of Meredith Morgan,

Who blew the bellows of our old church organ.

No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast,

Yet he gave our organist many a blast.

No puff was he, but a very good blower,

He could fill double ‘G’, but now lies a note lower."

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Amen.

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Banging my own Drum.

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Rain! Lovely rain!

Well, good for the garden, which was as dry as a bone,

but not so go for those who have just rushed off on holiday.

So, what have we all been up to on days like this?

Hazel has set up camp in the greenhouse. Having reached the 'ripe old' age of 102, she thought she might as well 'ripen off' with the tomatoes!

Wes, on the other hand, decided on the doormat.

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So two dry pussies, and where was I?

In the 'workshop'.

Actually, us engineers are not supposed to use the word 'workshop', it has to be referred to as a 'Hobby room'! A workshop implies 'work' and that would never do in a residential property.

Elf 'n Safety and worse!!!!!

(Heaven help us - please eu hurry up and collapse)

You see, I'm one, who has always fancied a nice bang,

on the drum!

And my wee organ doesn't have one.

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This fellow over in Holland does.

A nice little side drum.

Here's another tucked behind a curtain,

showing all 'the works'.

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Now, to get these to bang at the right time,

and in time with the music, they can be linked into

the Bass Notes.

(as in the Ump, of ump, pah, pah.)

But, they can also be driven by a puff of air

from the tracker-bar.

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This is my tracker-bar.

The organ has 26 notes - but the bar has 27 holes!

You see I planned ahead and added an extra hole

for percussion.

Many builders do this.

My friend Derek (in Australia) has a 27th hole and

uses it to power his moving bandsmen.

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Derek Deane's 27 note Organ.

Over the years, at car boots and in charity shops,

I have picked up all sorts of rubbish,

and I have a few old tambourines,

and even an old drum kicking about.

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All I need now, is to get the puff of air,

from the hole number 27,

down to a device to bang the drum in time with the music!

So now to the technical bit.

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This is what I have been up to

whilst the rain, rained,

the euro collapsed,

and

the cats slept through the whole thing!

Making a valve chest to 'Bang on my Drum'.

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I must admit, that that the thought

of the euro collapsing,

and

the whole eu thingie going belly up,

is a darn sight more exciting

than having a bang on my drum!

I feel like playing "Land of Hope & Glory".

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