Not long ago I noticed that the site of my previous blog had deleted the account. Maybe because of all the spam entries. I had been transferring old entries onto this blog site, but they deleted the old account before I got very far into this.

Despite emailing them a fortnight ago, have not even acknowledged my request. I’m now trying just to get the data files emailed to me.

Coincidentally, an email account I have in Guatamala was also closed down for no obvious reason. But I managed to reinstate the one I have in Malayasia.


I’ve had more 05:00 walks by the Thames, on days it was not raining. Yesterday I also took a late evening walk, and had been surprised by the number of people settling down for a nights fishing.

05:00 was also the time that, as a kid, we as a family would leave to drive to Devon for a holiday. Brother and myself (pre-teens in the early years) would be bundled, dressed but wrapped in a blanket, into the back seats of a BMC Mini (originally a “E” registration – 1965?) Between us some bags containing breakfast, lunch and other drinks in tupperware, flasks and the like. In the back seat pockets were our “toys” and books, which, after the first year, in my case contained stuff for fossil hunting. This was decades before “the Jurassic Coast”. Thus we both had tiny nests to initially sleep and then sit in. Normally a portable radio was used for entertainment, but one year a cassette tape player was on the back parcel shelf.

The boot of the car was down, open, with the number plate swung out, so as to hold the clothes and bedding in suitcases.

By 06:30 we’d be in Newbury (not using whatever parts of the motorway network existed), for a loo break, and at least tea, if not breakfast. This is normally the time I arrive back home after my early morning Thames-side walk. I consider the parts of the journey there on my walk. These days, I still use parts of the route, so parts are still familiar, but no idea if the Newbury loos remain.

The first time we went to Devon, it was via Lyme Regis. Unfortunately the car was an old 850cc automatic gearbox mini, with reluctance to go into first; crawling up the hill out of Lyme in second, my father considered that it was not going to make it, and that we would all have to all get out and push.