Postal rates

 

Postal rates

 A standard first-class stamp in UK costs £1.80, up 10p from April 7^th, 2026.

 A second-class stamp is £0.91, just over half the price of a first-class stamp. It increased by 4p in April.

Those who still send letters usually opt for second-class postage. It’s noticeably cheaper, and the letters often arrive at the same time as correspondence with first-class stamps. Remoter areas will often experience significant delays, even with first-class postage.

At present the Post Office site states that second-class letters will arrive within three business days, and a first-class letter will be delivered by the next working day, including Saturdays.

Today, a flyer dropped through our letter box, in bright red Royal Mail livery. It stated, '2^nd class mail is changing.’ The changes are intended ‘to deliver a better all-round service.’ Considering how customers send mail, Royal Mail aims ‘to offer a more reliable and sustainable service.’

Letters and cards carrying second-class stamps will be delivered every other day, and if one of the days is a Saturday, the letter or card will be delivered within three weekdays. So, something posted before collection on a Friday may not reach the recipient until the following Tuesday.

First-class mail will continue to be delivered six days a week. Mail is never delivered on a Sunday, though parcels can be delivered ‘up to’ seven days a week.

Is this change intended to encourage more people to buy first-class stamps, so that cards can be expected to arrive for the important date they’ve been sent for? I suggest that fewer people will bother to send anything by surface mail.

The peak of 20 billion letters in 2004-2005 has dropped to 6.6 billion and is forecast to drop to 4 billion in the next few years.

The decline is blamed on the growing dependence on digital communication. This has been reflected worldwide. At the same time, parcel deliveries have increased markedly.

Are we witnessing the demise of the personal letter or card? Will future generations be unable to read letters sent by their forebears? Will anyone be able to read another person’s handwriting? 

I know of children already who cannot read cursive script. This is not so surprising, since, unless we have been specially taught, it is difficult for most people to read journals and notes written by people in the 16^th century. Queen Victoria’s handwriting from the nineteenth century was difficult to decipher.

It would be disappointing if future historians and biographers in their research had nothing more exciting to sift through than emails and text messages.

Sunday morning walk

 

Sunday morning walk

Out by 6:00 a.m. and back home before the heat started to rise.

Tomorrow will need an earlier start, and Tuesday and Wednesday earlier still.

Float to Live

 

Float to Live

The summer edition of the RNLI publication ‘Lifeboat’ arrived a few days ago. The magazine contains a selection of articles on subjects related to the sea. There is usually a rescue story, highlighting the incredible work of the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution)

There is often a reflection on someone’s work with the service, or a glance back to history.

This edition celebrated twenty-five years of RNLI Lifeguards and also emphasised the ‘Float to Live’   water safety advice. The ‘Float to Live’ campaign was launched in 2017 and has saved more than fifty lives in the years since, including children caught in rip currents, and runners falling into canals.

The RNLI has discovered that about half of those who drown every year had no intention of entering the water. Another survey found that one in three people have no idea what to do if they get into difficulty in the water.Everyone can float, even if they are convinced they cannot. Old wives’ tales of people being too heavy to float, or coming from a particular ethnic background which makes it impossible, are responsible for misinformation. One of the first lessons taught by swimming instructors is about floating.

There are five easy steps. The first is to lie on your back and tilt your head back, until your ears are submerged. Secondly, you should relax and try to control your breathing. You should move your arms, hands, and legs to keep you afloat. You may feel your legs sinking and that is fine. There is no one ‘right’ way to float. The last tip is to practice floating in a safe environment, building confidence in your ability. Floating may save your life.

I wrote about the RNLI here, and here, with a fanciful story here.

In tandem

 

In tandem

 A beautifully decorated tandem in The Hague, The Netherlands

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

We see a lot of cyclists, many in form-fitting lycra, training seriously on the hills around us, but we don’t often come across tandems. I understand that they’re not particularly difficult to ride but require great trust between the two parties using them.

The person at the front of the machine is called the Captain or the Pilot and is usually the heavier of the pair. The one at the back is known as the Stoker and provides extra power.

I worked with someone whose husband was keen to have a tandem. She was not so enthusiastic, being of slight build and generally not inclined to participate in any sport. I don’t remember the outcome of the discussion.

Returning on Friday morning from a ‘verification trip’ (don’t ask!) to the Post Office, we passed two tandems, which caused us to wonder if there was an event. As we didn’t see any more, we assumed these two couples were out for a relaxing ride through the countryside on an increasingly warm day.

I have been singing, ‘Daisy, Daisy,’ ever since!

Daisy, Daisy,

Give me your answer, do!

I’m half crazy

All for the love of you!

It won’t be a stylish marriage,

I can’t afford a carriage.

But you’ll look sweet upon the seat

Of a bicycle built for two!

The correct title is ‘Daisy Bell’ and is said to have been inspired by Daisy Greville, Countess of Warwick, who was one of a number of Edward VII’s mistresses.

Harry Dacre (1857-1922) was the pen name adopted by a British songwriter called Frank Dean. He moved to America after four years in Australia and took with him an early version of ‘Daisy Bell.’ He also took his bicycle and had to pay import duty on it. The legend is that his friend William Jerome remarked that it was fortunate he had not brought with him a bicycle built for two, for then he would have had to pay double the duty. Dacre was inspired by that comment to alter the words of his song to reflect a tandem. Written in 1892, it was recorded by Dan W. Quinn in 1893.

It is the chorus which is familiar. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the verses.

There is a flower within my heart, Daisy, Daisy!

Planted one day by a glancing dart,

Planted by Daisy Bell!

Whether she loves me or loves me not,

Sometimes it's hard to tell;

Yet I am longing to share the lot

Of beautiful Daisy Bell!

Daisy, Daisy,

Give me your answer, do!

I'm half crazy,

All for the love of you!

It won't be a stylish marriage,

I can't afford a carriage,

But you'll look sweet upon the seat

Of a bicycle built for two!

We will go "tandem" as man and wife, Daisy, Daisy!

"Pedaling" away down the road of life,

I and my Daisy Bell!

When the road's dark we can both despise

Policeman and "lamps" as well;

There are "bright lights" in the dazzling eyes

Of beautiful Daisy Bell!
(Chorus)

I will stand by you in "wheel" or woe, Daisy, Daisy!

You'll be the bell(e) which I'll ring you know!

Sweet little Daisy Bell!

You'll take the "lead" in each "trip" we take,

Then if I don't do well;

I will permit you to use the brake,

My beautiful Daisy Bell! 

 Family tandem for six, 1925, Germany. The family is enjoying a picnic as they cycle!
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

Headlines

 

Headlines

The headline that caught my attention this morning was not the much-vaunted electoral success of the so-called ‘King of the North’ but the one about conjoined twins. Two Nigerian babies were successfully separated last year in the UAE. Mercy and Goodness were joined at the head and a team of medical professionals from more than twenty countries worked together to separate them.

The team used a variety of sophisticated techniques using AI and AR to prepare themselves for over forty hours of surgery, separating skulls, brains, and blood vessels. 

Wikimedia informs that AR or augmented reality ”is a form of 3D human–computer interaction that overlays real-time 3D-rendered computer graphics into the real world through a display, such as a handheld device or head-mounted display.”

Mercy and Goodness made a full recovery from the complex, brilliant surgery and are now back home in Nigeria. The lead paedriatic surgeon from Great Ormond Street Hospital, (GOSH) Professor Noor ul Owase Jeelani said,  ”This case involved a team split across three continents, helping children from a fourth … it is a beautiful example of how we can produce life-changing outcomes through global collaboration and knowledge-sharing: skill, technology and humanity coming together to defy all odds.” 

Now, that is truly something to celebrate, and an example of cooperation we all could aspire to follow.

Into the long grass

 

Into the long grass

A reporter on the radio discussing something the other morning mentioned ‘kicking it into the long grass.’ Although I understood the meaning, of delaying a difficult decision, I wondered about its origins.

I thought maybe it had something to do with cricket. Many British expressions use cricketing metaphors – ‘playing with a straight bat,’ ‘having a good innings,’ ‘it’s not cricket,’ ‘on a sticky wicket,’ ‘stumped,’ and so forth, but I found nothing about long grass. Perhaps it was a golfing phrase? Hitting a ball into the long grass could be problematic, I suppose. ‘Kicking’ seemed to be a little inappropriate. Cricket and golf balls are not generally kicked anywhere, unless in frustration. So, I looked it up.

It certainly comes from a sporting background and originated from the game of golf. Hitting a ball into the unmown grass or ‘rough’ makes it unplayable or lost. Kicking it there, through spite, exasperation, or some other trigger, is not considered good sportsmanship. (Should that be ‘sportspersonship??)

It is also related to rugby, where it is known as ‘kicking into touch.’ The ball is kicked out of the playing area, stopping the game and reducing tension.

One site I found suggested that it was originally a term used in politics since the mid-20^th century, with the first recorded usage, presumably in Hansard, giving the date 1966, when the MP Geoffrey Rippon asked, "How long are the Royal Commissions expected to take to complete their work? In other words, how long is the ball to be kicked into the long grass?"

However, the Orkney Herald of 1948 used it in its Sports Shorts, as follows:

Orkney Herald (Kirkwall, Orkney, Scotland) of Tuesday 27^th July 1948:

MOWER NEEDED.
At a recent Parish Cup game in Bignold Park, a linesman lost the ball in the long grass (off the pitch), and the game was held up for some time till it was found.

A goat in the garden?

 

A goat in the garden?

 Goat moth (Cossus cossus) June, Berkshire. 

We had a pony in the house once. It belonged to a friend of one of our daughters, but we’ve never had anything larger than dogs, cats, foxes, and squirrels in the garden.

Imagine my surprise, then, when taking the laundry off the washing line, I discovered a goat! Actually, it was a goat moth (Cossus cossus) one of just three species of the Leopard and Goat moth family (Cossidae) found in the British Isles. It is nationally and increasingly scarce, its numbers decreasing since the 1960s, but East Berkshire remains a stronghold for this species. Favoured habitats include wetlands and old woodlands.

The goat moth is one of the heaviest moths to be found in the UK and its caterpillars may be as long as 10 cms.

The adults are nocturnal and rarely seen, only flying in June and July, with the aim of finding a mate. In daylight hours, they rest on tree trunks, their livery enabling them to merge with their background. The adults cannot feed, having no functional mouth parts, and exist only to breed, living for up to two weeks after emergence.

The goat moth acquired its name because of the smell the larvae emit, which is similar to that of a male goat. The caterpillars hatch from eggs laid in crevices or on the bark of deciduous trees. They then bore into the wood, mining deep burrows. They have the longest larval stage of any British moth, taking four or five years to reach full size. During that time, they eat into the heartwood of trees, and that is one of the reasons they traditionally have been despised by foresters and gardeners.

When they reach the stage of pupation, they chew an exit out of the bark, then make a silken cocoon.

Sap and larval excrement ooze from the holes made by the larvae, providing nutrients for many invertebrates, some rare, like the Crimson Underwings moth. The sap runs attract other nocturnal moths, butterflies like the Red Admiral, beetles and some rare flies.

Not much camouflage here!

Do they serve any purpose, I wondered? The caterpillars spend three to five years developing and in that time they consume dead and decaying wood. The large caterpillars provide food for birds, bats and small mammals. Between August and October, many of the rose or magenta-coloured caterpillars leave the trees to find somewhere to create their cocoon. That is when they are likely to be seen, traipsing across the woodland floor or meandering along a path. 

Others remain on the trees where they hatched.

Goat moths are also found across Europe, North Africa, and Asia.

 Something's cropped up . . .

. . . nothing serious, or even interesting. Back soon, hopefully. 

Opinion

 

Opinion

I’m not overtly political. I have never belonged to a political party, as I’m not sufficiently convinced by the causes each party espouses. I have voted for each of the three major parties (as they were) over the years and have never understood people who claim to have ‘always’ voted for the same party. The ‘newer’ parties I find worrying, and even more so the thinking of some of the people who support them.

Along with much of the populace I am fed up with the current government. Keir Starmer’s lack of clear purpose is irritating, and the constant changes of direction are confusing and do not encourage confidence. The only thing that seems to be obvious is that an increasing amount of money will be spent on ‘welfare,’ to the detriment of other needs, without sorting out the basic causes of ill-health and poverty.

It is disgraceful that so many British youth have never been in employment and may indeed be the third or fourth generations in their families to be dependent on the state for benefits.

It is a cause for enormous concern that so many young people leave education unable to speak coherently, read, write, and do simple calculations.  The fact that many ‘fall into’ crime, serve prison sentences and, while incarcerated, are educated to a higher degree than they ever were at school is cause for alarm.

It is shocking that people can claim ‘mental health’ problems and corresponding allowances without a proper diagnosis.

I am tired of hearing the current government constantly blaming all our problems on ‘the last government.’ They were voted in to do something about the concerns, of which there are many. After two years in post nothing of note has been accomplished.

To hark back to history, had Winston Churchill adopted a similar stance, dithering and complaining about his predecessors, the country would never have been able to defend itself in the Second World War. As it was, it was a squeak to do so, since we were woefully ill-equipped. However, we were better prepared than we are at present, with an air force and a strong navy, though the army was small. We had a significant industrial capability, which allowed us to adapt our needs for warfare. That has been massively reduced in the decades following the Second World War.

Currently, we have a tiny army, a barely existing navy, and an air force which will have to work hard to bear the stress of any conflict.

Now, in the face of growing concerns about our national security, the government has reneged on its promise properly to fund the armed services. John Healey has resigned as Secretary for Defence, followed by Al Karns, armed forces minister.

The prime minister seems incapable of making a decision and sticking with it. His huge majority is proving a millstone round his neck as he attempts to please all sides and satisfies none. His chancellor, Rachel Reeves, is inept and ill-qualified for the job, having greatly exaggerated her capabilities and experience. In any other line of work, she would have been sacked for dishonesty.

In the forthcoming struggle to lead the Labour party, who will win? Is there anyone who will be more capable? No-one stands out, and those who think the Makerfield by-election hopeful, Andy Burnham, will be an improvement need to think back to when he was in Blair’s government.

Will any of the contenders put country before party? Somehow, I doubt it.

Identification

Identification

Busy in the front garden the other day, we came across a shy little beastie. It wasn’t easy to capture a photograph, as it was intent on getting away to shelter as quickly as possible. It seemed not to like the light, or to be able or willing to take flight.

We think it was associated with the hazel tree, as we found it under the pruned branches and leaves we were picking up to put in the green waste bin.

We assumed it was a moth, but it has proved impossible to identify. I’ve used all sorts of online keys, and a naturalist’s app on my iPhone. It has long antennae and striped legs, but strangely abbreviated wings, or perhaps it’s an unnaturally elongated body.

So far, it has identified as a Vapourer, a female Winter moth, or a Yellow Underwings. Of those three, I’m most inclined to see it as a Vapourer, or Rusty Tussock (Orygia antiqua) female. I’m happy to be proved wrong, though.

I wrote about the Vapourer here in 2019.

It’s called the Vapourer, because newly-emerged females emit  pheromones or ‘vapours’ to attract males to mate. The females then lay eggs on the cocoons from which they have hatched and die shortly afterwards. It’s not a very fulfilling life, really.

Heath Robinson

 

Heath Robinson

'How to Rise with the Sun'

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I used the expression ‘Heath Robinson’ on my blog the other day. I didn’t give it a second thought until someone, DB, I believe, said he had looked it up to see if it meant what he thought it meant.

Heath Robinson is a British aphorism to describe a solution or gadget that is over-engineered for the task in hand, and completely impractical. A simple solution is overlooked for a far more complex improvised one.

More frequently, it describes a temporary, often ingenious solution to a problem, using whatever might come to hand in the vicinity. It’s usually rickety and prone to failure if not incessantly tinkered with.

First lessons in walking
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The phrase originates from William Heath Robinson (1872-1944) He was an English cartoonist and book illustrator from a family of artists and became well-known for his capricious drawings of impossibly complicated machines. For instance, a simple device like an egg whisk might employ winches, switches, cogs, and lengths of knotted string. Another could show a machine driven by steam from a kettle heated by candles.

The First World War (1914-1918) inspired Heath Robinson to imagine a series of bizarre secret contraptions for the opposing armies to out-manoeuvre each other. Among the many cartoons he produced was one for ‘an armoured bayonet curler.’

The phrase ‘Heath Robinson’ became a part of British armed forces slang during WWI and thereafter was adopted by the general public. In WWII (1939-1945) codebreakers at Bletchley Park called one of the early computing machines ‘the Heath Robinson.’

The American equivalent of Heath Robinson is Rube Goldberg, while the Danes have Storm Petersen.

Nick Park’s inventions in the ‘Wallace and Gromit’ films are worthy descendants of Heath Robinson.

Gardening in early June

 

Gardening in early June

                            Our 'Jack and the Beanstalk' climbing rose.

We hacked down our very tall climbing rose and it’s desperate to reach the heavens again, but we shall keep it short. It has a bud on it, which will produce a pink rose. I don’t know the name of it, but call it 'Jack and the Beanstalk.'

I worked around, removing flowers growing in the wrong place – weeds to the uninitiated! – and pulling out the last straggling forget-me-nots. Raspberries and strawberries are ripening, but there’s no colour on the blueberries. The cherries have been collected, the plums and apples, apricots and damsons are promising, while the poor pears struggle along but rarely deliver.

I admired the tiny white flowers on the goosegrass (Galium aparine) as I pulled it up. It tries so hard, and spreads everywhere. It is also known as cleavers, sticky willy, catchweed, sweetheart, bedstraw, and robin-run-the-hedge. I’ve always known it as goosegrass or cleavers. It’s a favoured food for geese and chickens, hence its common name of goosegrass.

The plant, which belongs in the same family as coffee, is more interesting than it first appears. It can be cooked as a vegetable before the fruits ripen, but is not so appetising if eaten raw, because of the little hooks that cover the leaves and stems. The burrs which follow the flowers hold two or three seeds. They also have hooks which attach to passing animals or humans, thus being easily distributed. The fruits have often been used as a coffee substitute and contain less caffeine than coffee beans. The leaves can be dried and used to make tea, and the roots produce a red dye.

As a bedstraw, it was used to stuff mattresses.

In Ancient Greece shepherds made sieves from the stems of cleavers to strain milk, a practice that was also followed in Sweden.

Having plucked out much of the plant, and knowing there will be more later, I left the garden, but not before looking at some more roses. Somehow, they’ve all managed to hide away.

'Warm Welcome' should really be grown in our front garden, but is tucked away on an arch at the end of our back garden.

‘Warm Welcome’ is a semi-evergreen climbing rose. It’s sweetly scented and a vibrant orange-red. 

                                    'Zéphirine Drouhin'

Growing near it is a deep pink old Bourbon rose, 'Zéphirine Drouhin’, which has a rich, intoxicating scent and very few thorns.

Another rose, white and freely-flowering, is skulking behind the Mahonia Japonica. I don’t know its name. 

The Generous Gardener

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The final one is a pink David Austin climbing rose called ‘The Generous Gardener’, which has a strong, sweet fragrance. It was named to mark the 75^th anniversary of the National Garden Scheme.

The National Garden Scheme was founded in 1927 to make private gardens accessible to the public. For the privilege of visiting a splendid garden, visitors pay an entrance fee which goes to a variety of charities, including Macmillan Cancer Support, Hospice UK and Parkinsons UK. In 2025, donations amounted to nearly £3.9 million.

Anyone can open their garden for charity, and the gardens may be anything from a community allotment to a cottage garden, from rolling acres to wildlife havens, from seaside to town.

I know someone who opens her garden for one or two days each year. It’s a lot of work, but so worthwhile. It is not something I shall ever do, however.

    

Answers to further nonsense

 

Answers to further nonsense

Q: Detective Smith finds Romeo and Juliet dead on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass. There were no signs of a break-in. What killed them?

A: Romeo and Juliet are goldfish. Their bowl was knocked over by the family dog. They died of asphyxiation.

Q: Five men were travelling along a lane when it began to rain. Four of the men got wet but the fifth didn’t, though he had no umbrella, hat or raincoat. How could that be?

A: The four men were pallbearers. The fifth man was in the coffin.

Q: A woman watched her husband plunge to his death. Later she found him working in the garden. How was that possible?

A: The woman’s husband was a stuntman and she had been watching him in a film.

Q: A carrot, a woollen scarf and five buttons were found on the ground in a field. If no-one put them there, how did they get there?

A: They were left behind after a snowman thawed.

Q: A man stopped his car outside a hotel and immediately realised he was bankrupt. How did he know?     

A: He was playing Monopoly. 

Q: A carton containing six eggs is on the table. Six people take one egg each. How is it that one egg is left in the carton?  

A: The sixth person took the carton with the last egg in it.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Further nonsense

 

Further nonsense

1: Detective Smith finds Romeo and Juliet dead on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass. There were no signs of a break-in. What killed them?

2: Five men were travelling along a lane when it began to rain. Four of the men got wet but the fifth didn’t, though he had no umbrella, hat or raincoat. How could that be?

3: A woman watched her husband plunge to his death. Later she found him working in the garden. How was that possible?

4: A carrot, a woollen scarf and five buttons were found on the ground in a field. If no-one put them there, how did they get there?

5: A man stopped his car outside a hotel and immediately realized he was bankrupt. How did he know?       

6: A carton containing six eggs is on the table. Six people take one egg each. How is it that one egg is left in the carton?

 

Answers tomorrow.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

 

It beggars belief

 

It beggars belief

To beggar belief, sometimes expressed as to beggar description, means that some thing or circumstance is so extraordinary that it is unbelievable, or incomprehensible, or outrageous.

The phrase originated in the 17^th century, when ‘beggar’ meant to impoverish or reduce to beggary. It was first used by Shakespeare in ‘Antony and Cleopatra,’ written in 1606. In Act II, Scene II, Enobarbus describes the stunning beauty of Cleopatra as she sails the River Cydnus in her golden barge.

‘For her own person,
It beggared all description; she did lie
In her pavilion – cloth-of-gold, of tissue -
O’erpicturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork Nature.’

I am not in the mood to rant today, but too many things in daily life beggar belief.

Tugboats

 

Tugboats

                    Norwegian ocean-going tugs used for towing oil rigs

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

If lifeboats are the heroes of the maritime world, tugs are the work horses. Without them, large vessels cannot traverse narrow waterways or dock safely.

                 Container ship approaching Hamburg, accompanied by tugs

                                            Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I’ve always thought of tugboats as working with bulky container ships, pushing and pulling, manoeuvring them round acute angles into ports and nudging them onto moorings. 

Tug 'Sir Bevois' guiding the container ship 'Maersk Paris' down river
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Otherwise, I’ve seen them accompanying those moving blocks of flats called cruise ships, or hauling barges carrying heavy loads along busy rivers.

US submarine being towed into the Elizabeth River

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I didn’t realise until recently that they are also used to assist submarines entering port, though of course it makes sense.  Submarines on the surface are not easy to manoeuvre and cannot reverse without risking damage. Tugs help them to rotate and also act as brakes.