Danskcolin: Tuesday November 7th 2023

07:00 Lois and I are in bed, talking sheds - no, not shedloads, just sheds for once!

Sheds are in the air, well not really [why did you say they were then?! -Ed] - but excitement is mounting for Lois and me as we prepare to welcome not the shed-men, but the next best thing: shed-base men, They're due to arrive tomorrow morning (Wednesday) and they're going to build us not just a concrete shed-base but also a path that we can walk on to get the concrete shed-base - you see, it's all been properly thought out. Oh yes!

We'll have to keep a close eye on Adrian and his men, when they arrive, however, because boss-man Adrian wants to add in a couple more features - including an ornamental lake, a miniature forest, a fake Greek temple and maybe a menagerie and petting-area for small deer, plus a paddock for a small herd of wildebeest. We've got oodles of space for all that, he explained to us enthusiastically.

He showed us a few pictures of some of his local transformations - this is our neighbour Lawrence's back garden before Adrian and his men set to work:

BEFORE: our neighbour Lawrence's back garden

before Adrian and his men started work

And this is what it looks like today:

AFTER: our neighbour Lawrence's back garden as it looks today:

also shown: boss-man Adrian and one of his men, working hard on one of the

newly forested areas in Lawrence's back garden

Lois and I found Adrian's ideas infectiously inspirational when we were talking to the guy - we loved his enthusiasm, and we felt tempted, I'll admit that, but on reflection - reality check - we decided that these ideas would be too ambitious for our own back garden, which is only about 30ft x 20ft (6m x 9m).

What do YOU think, though? Your ideas are certainly welcome! Just jot your reactions down on the back of a postcard if you've got the time, can you?

Your task, fundamentally, is to decide this question: Is our place just too small a "canvas" for some, at least, of what many might call Adrian's rather "grand" ideas?

I wonder.....!

flashback to June: our twin granddaughters having

"fun with bubbles" in our 30ft x 20ft back garden

07:30 Lois and I haven't got out of bed yet, but we pronounce ourselves by now "all talked out" over the shed issue, and we call a halt, pending arrival of your postcards, needless to say.

07:35 Suddenly my smartphone starts beeping under the bedclothes. An exciting message has come in on whatsapp from my younger sister Jill, who lives in Cambridge. She says, that if all goes well, she's going to become a grandmother next week - on Monday the eldest of Jill's three daughters, Zoe, is due to be going into a Manchester maternity hospital, the very hospital, I believe, where Jill herself was born, all of 65 years ago.

St Mary's Hospital, Manchester, much as it would have looked like

when my sister Jill was born there, back in 1958.

The hospital was originally established as a charity in 1790, when it was described as Dr. Charles White's "Manchester Lying-in Hospital and Charity for the delivery of poor women at their own habitations".

What a crazy world they lived in, back in those far-off times!

flashback to 1958: me, holding my newly-born little sister Jill,

while my dear late brother Steve "photo-bombs" the picture,

as we would say today, from over my shoulder

1958: me (left, aged 12 and wearing my Manchester Grammar School tie),

with my 3 siblings, who were together the centre of the whole universe

as it seemed to us at the time: Steve (6), Kathy (10) and Jill (a few months)

We feel so pleased for Jill about to become a grandmother in just a few days' time. The news makes our day.

And it's only later that "the penny drops" in my head, when I suddenly realise that I myself am going to become a great-uncle for the first time. Not just "a great uncle", which I am already, of course, but a "great-uncle" - wow!

That makes me feel REALLY old, no doubt about that, but at the same time, it's certainly an achievement isn't it! [I wouldn't call it your "achievement" exactly. I think Zoe and partner Chris have done all the real work there! - Ed]

In case you're already thinking of Christmas presents for me, may I suggest this one from the Australian amazon website?

Just saying haha !!!!!

20:00 It's the end of another punishing day of retiree-life for Lois and me - yes, it's true we had our afternoon in bed, but all the time we were up there, we could see, and more importantly hear, the so-called "Orelly-men" at work up the street a ways, doing who-knows-what in the next-door driveway to our near-neighbour Rachel's house.

What utter utter utter madness !!!!

flashback to this afternoon: the view from our bed,

as the Orelli-men on this new-build housing estate

in Malvern start doing who-knows-what in somebody's driveway.

What madness !!!!!

21:00 We wind down with a new documentary series on the Andalucia region of Spain, presented by one of our favourite presenters, Michael Portillo, once one of Maggie Thatcher's cabinet ministers, and later John Major's Defence Secretary.

Do you remember those far-off days? Here's a picture of him in Hong Kong in 1997, when we had to give the place back to the Chinese, just so that they could take it back to "Life Before the Dark Ages" (by British standards), and all just because (allegedly) "the lease was up".

flashback to 1997: Defence Secretary Portillo in the then British colony of Hong Kong

What a madness that was! Memo to HM Government - "Next time we seize somewhere, must take out a longer lease haha!", although to be frank, I can't see that situation arising again, to be honest!

[You don't say! - Ed]

And to be absolutely honest, should we have been seizing places on the other side of the world anyway?

I wonder....!!!!

Anyway it's too late to do anything about that now. [You don't say! - Ed]

Hong Kong in the 1980's - life there seen in happier times:

Maggie Thatcher and Dennis tour the colony in a double-decker tram.

[Enough already! - Ed]

But back to Spain! [Finally! - Ed]

This new TV series on Channel 5 is a nostalgic trip back to his roots for Michael. As his last name suggests, he comes from a long line of Spaniards. His father, Luis Portillo, was born and brought up in Spain, but had to flee to England in the 1930's after he became targeted by General Franco, the country's fascist leader.

To be frank, however, you can have too much of these celebrity travelogues, where you're looking, for example, at local methods of porcelain manufacture and the like in some traditional Andalucian workshops or other. Don't you feel the same sometimes? Be honest!

Call me a jaundiced old codger if you like haha!

I personally am far more interested in Michael's reflections about his father, when he revisits the Andalucian gardens where they had their last conversation together in the 1960's.

Michael Portillo, seen here in the 1960's with his father Luis

As a young man in Spain before World War II, Michael's father Luis Portillo was something of a poet and during the 1930's he became a great friend of Spanish poet and playwright, Federico Garcia Lorca. The two were great enthusiasts for Spanish culture, particular all the bull-fights and the flamenco dancing and that kind of malarkey.

When the political pressure on the two men intensified in the late 1930's, Luis managed to get to England, but Lorca was murdered in Madrid, probably by Franco's agents, because he was perceived to be on the political left.

In 1939, Luis Portillo was luckier than his friend. He crossed the Pyrenees into France, and then got a passage to England. And as a graduate from a Spanish university Luis was able to study at Oxford University.

But how did Luis then meet Michael's English mother?

Well, a little after Luis arrived in England, a boatload of 4000 Basque children also managed to get a passage to England, and when they arrived they were parcelled out to various parts of the country, some of them to Oxford.

Luis went to talk to some of these Basque children, and this was when he met Michael's mother.