Preston Park

I walked through Preston Park on my way to a meeting this morning. Alas, sans camera, but the weather was just perfect: cool, with a hint of a warm breeze, and glorious, glorious sunshine. After such a grim, grey winter, whose spirits could it not lift?

West Pier, Brighton, in the Vernal Equinox

The recent 'big moon' phenomenon, caused by the Moon passing at its nearest distance (perigee) while on its orbit around our home planet, for 18 years. But another facet of this was that the recent Equinoxial Spring tide also resulted in unusually high (and low) tides.

This was captured beautifully by my friend Giorgina, who took the photo above, showing the remains of Brighton's West Pier standing almost above the tide line, the tide was so far out...

Another grey day

It seems to have been a particularly grim start to 2011.

There are lots of reasons for me in this, but it is not helped by the continued grey weather, interspersed with drizzle and heavier rain. Last Thursday was an exception - a beautiful, bright day, almost Spring-like, and it was noticeable just how everyone's spirits were lifted.

This is unusual for Brighton, in my experience; one of the reasons I like the place is because it has a higher than average sunny day count compared with much of the UK.

Sorry for a grey post. Roll on Spring...

A jolly Christmas tree

OK, so this about our new home and not much about Brighton, but I thought that now we are in the gloomy and cold post-Christmas period, I would recall some festive cheer with a posting of our Christmas tree, from our first Christmas in the new place.

We had meant to get a real, living tree this year but, with the snow and other commitments, I couldn't find one in time, so we reverted to our trusty artificial tree. I read somewhere that the carbon footprint of an artificial tree is only lower than a real tree after it has been used for 10-12 years, so we're quids in as it is much more venerable than that.

And, having combined two households into one, we ended up with rather a lot of baubles, so it is definitely not what you'd call designer or restrained...

More on the snow

Despite all the complaints about the snow, I witnessed a very encouraging example of good neighbourliness in the street where I live; two people who live further down cleared the pavement of snow along one side of the road, from one end of the street to the other. They were helped by the young son of one them, who put a bag of grit on his sled, happily scattering it along the way.

There has been a lot of debate about what the Tory policy of the 'Big Society' might mean, but it strikes me this is a perfect example of it; an unrequested, altruistic act of practical help.

A second year of snow

Just when you thought it was safe to put away the thermals, we get a second year of freezing, snowy weather. This one seems to have taken public transport more by surprise than last year, with trains badly disrupted, although to be fair Brighton got their buses back on the streets quicker than before.

Temperatures in this normally mild coastal city dropped to a chilly -8.7C before a rapid thaw last weekend, although the mercury has dropped well below freezing again today.

Moving home...

Regular followers will have noticed something of an interruption to this blog, for which many apologies. But we have been moving house. Now, this is something I hadn't done properly for 17 years, (not counting moving into my other half's flat last winter when most of my stuff went into storage).

They say that moving home is one of the most stressful things you can do, up there with losing your job, getting divorced and even bereavement. But I confess that I'd never found it that difficult - until now. Perhaps it's an age thing. When I last moved I was still in my early 30s and had the enthusiasm of fresh starts and all that (not to mention lots of energy, unproblematic knees and no bad back).

I am now firmly in middle age, and one of the things I am slowly finding out is how my tolerance of disturbance (of any kind) is diminishing. Perhaps I really am turning into my father...

It didn't help that on our first morning, when still surrounded by boxes up to chest height in just about every room, my partner had a shower, only for a good portion of the water to cascade into the lounge which I had spent the best part of the previous week painting. It turns out the seal around the bath was failing, and the bath itself sinking gradually into floorboards softened by being periodically soaked.

On the positive side, my Vicar recommended a good plumber who came to the rescue that day. (Definitely a prayer answered). After a lot of huffing and puffing, he and his mate built a new platform to support the bath, replaced the seal, and split the tiled bath panel in half so that, in future, getting access under the bath will not require removing the washbasin and shower screen.

After a start like that, it's hardly suprising the next few weeks were stressful. My other half took one day off work, leaving me to sort out the house, as I'd cleared my work diary for most of August in the anticipation that I'd not get much work done anyway. That turned out to be much truer than I had thought possible, thanks - or rather, no thanks - to BT.

All we had requested was our old number and account to be switched to our new address - a simple and regular enough task, you would have thought?

Oh no. No - no, no, no, no.

It has taken two months, and 14 phone calls to 11 different staff to sort out the total mess that was created: no line at all for a week after we moved in; a grand total of 4 other numbers allocated to us before we got the one we wanted; two separate accounts and a byzantine puzzle of payments (that I am still not sure are finally correct, although we now have approaching £100 of repayments, corrections and compensation on various of the 8 bills we have been sent); and, to cap it all, no broadband for 6 weeks. (Hence no blog).

And that's the short version: one of the biggest problems has been trying to explain the ever worsening situation to a succession of hapless staff who, despite their best efforts, have usually managed to take me two steps forward and one (or two) steps back, so at each turn something else has gone wrong and the tale has become yet more complicated. Theseus had an easier time negotiating the Cretan Labyrinth. Unbelievable.

Still, 2 months on, we're now almost settled; we have broadband; just 4 more boxes to unpack, some minor building work timetabled before Christmas; and we're looking forward to our first Christmas in our new home.

Watch this space...