HEREFORDSHIRE

Katrina Larkin is a co-founder of the Big Chill music festival. I will be covering the festival for the Guardian. Katrina will write a piece prior to the festival on my Herefordshire, the Herefordshire that I dream of when away traveling. I spent today visiting favorite sites for Katrina's article. Great day...plus having our Dutch friends here and celebrating both Easter and Passover week. I refer to the Dutch as our friends - not true. They are our family. Waking this morning, I lay in bed and listened joyfully to their voices rising from the kitchen.

A GREAT LIFE

I have a great life: a wife, four sons and a daughter, all of whom I adore and all of whom talk to me. My two elder sons and my daughter have wonderful lovable partners. I have four glorious grandsons. A first granddaughter is due imminently and a second next month. We live in a three-hundred year old cottage (slum or cute, depending on your expectations) with beautiful views across the Herefordshire countryside. We have kind and enjoyable friends on every continent. I am in good health, get to travel and write.
Depressed?
Don't give me that crap, old man.
Get it together or Bernadette will kick you up the backside...

USELESS BORDER TERRIER

Our Border terrier, Hamish, is young and feisty. He escaped yesterday (the postman had left the gate open). Frenzied barking led me to a house down the lane. Hamish had discovered a large flop-eared black and white rabbit in a cage on the front lawn. A tough Chav-type rabbit, safe in its cage, would have stuck its tongue out at Hamish. This rabbit was in shock. I dragged Hamish home and stuck his nose in one of the many moles hills desecrating our lawns. Hamish's answer: he doesn't do moles. He does sex with almost anything (including furniture), he does sleep, he does food and he does friendship with all and sundry (including burglars if any came our way). All in all, a totaly useless animal...
Though very handsome.

MANIC DEPRESSION

The image I project is of a fat, moderately jolly old buffer. In fact I suffer from manic depression. Traveling produces the manic mode. The past few weeks I have been in depression. One of the side affects is an inability to write letters. This must strike readers as the most inadequate excuse for bad manners. However, from those with whom I should have communicated, I beg forgiveness...

DSA BIKER TEST

I have been practicing for the new DSA bike test over the past two weeks. The test includes riding through a speed gate at 50 kph and immediately swerving before pulling up in a box. I ride a Honda 125 loaned by BRANSONS MOTORCYCLES, the Gloucester Honda Agent. The test area is short and a Honda 125 isn't the speediest accelerator. It takes a while to get the line and acceleration right. Steve of Acer Motorcycle Training spent ten years track racing. He has practiced on the new course over the past two months and reached 58 kph through the gate on the Honda CG. He is a good teacher and I finally made 51 kph after ten practice runs.

TOM YAM

I wrote that I must get off politics and back to cooking. Our eldest son, Josh, visits next Tuesday for two nights with his girlfriend, Jen. Josh called to say Hi and ask what I was preparing for Tuesday evening. We haven't met Jen. Josh says she isn't a vegetarian but wouldn't order a steak at a restaurant. Sea food?
Yes.
Great - I will prepare my favorite dish, Tom Yam. I use mussels as well as prawns and prepare a hot sauce to serve on the side.
SAUCE:
chilies, garlic & shallots
fish sauce and shrimp paste
tamarind
soft brown sugar

GET BACK TO COOKING

I have been enraged for the past few days by morally corrupt British politicians. I need to get back into the kitchen. We have a Dutch family, dear friends, arriving Wednesday for Easter/Passover - a fine time to plan a fine meal. I will drop by the butcher in Malvern Wells tomorrow. He gets his beef from the Scottish Highlands. Skirt is the perfect cut for the barbecue. Essential that I remember not to overdo the chili.

GEOF HOON HAS NO SHAME

Geoff Hoon was Minister of Defense when Britain joined the United States' invasion of Afghanistan. Geoff Hoon was Minister of Defense for three and a half years. He occupied a luxury apartment free of rent in Admiralty House. He rented out his own London house and charged the British tax payer for the upkeep of his home in his Nottinghamshire Constituency. Meanwhile the families of British soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan were condemned to substandard accommodation. Their accommodation was Geoff Hoon's responsibility. An honorable man would resign in shame. Honor is foreign to Mister Hoon.
Hoon's father was a railwayman. By profession, Hoon is a barrister. I recall a saying from my youth: Go screw the working class, I've got the foreman's job at last.
Bravo, Mister Hoon...

HEROES OR TERRORISTS?

I spent much of my childhood in the Scottish Borders. I remember reading Buchan and Kipling and imagining myself a British officer disguised as a Pathan tribesman, the Cheviot Hills as the Hindu Kush. My elder brother and I rode most day - my brother, a turbaned Chieftain. Tsarist Russia was the enemy. So much for fantasy...
Forty years later I followed moujahidin into Afghanistan. I wore a khaki turban and khaki pyjamas and carried a World War One rifle (all Afghans carry weapons). Soviet Russia was the enemy.
A narrow footpath climbed barren mountains parallel to the Khyber Pass. The path petered out and we scrambled up slides of granite scree and clawed our way across rock. We reached the head of the pass at nearly 3,000 meters, descended into a valley and walked until evening when we dined on chapatis that were 80% sand. Full moon and we stumbled all night up a dry river bed. Dawn and we slept an hour in a ruined farm house - no chapatis. Then we walked all day and were finally through the Russians' exclusion zone. For those two days the leader of our troop encouraged me with threats of Russian helicopter gunships. I prayed for a Russian gunship. One bomb. Peace...
A different peace came three days later.
We had shivered through the night on an open mountain side. The sun rose. The clarity of vision in the mountain air verged on the hallucinatory. We followed a stream up a narrow valley. Grass grew emerald on the banks and I recall wild flowers and a pair of blue kingfishers and an abundance of pale yellow butterflies. An old man had presented me with a horse the previous day and I rode to the rear of our troop. One by one, the moujahidin passed me their weapons until I resembled a mobile game of pick-up-sticks. I had no idea of our destination nor of our troop's intention. For the first time in years I was freed from any possibility of taking a decision and rode in an almost trance-like state of peace. Yet this was war. Two thirds of the population had fled their country, every village lay in ruins, livestock had been stolen or killed by bullet or landmine, food was famine short. So, though happy, I was also shamed by my happiness.
Two mulberry trees in fruit shaded the stream at the head of the valley. We rolled rocks to form a dam and one of the younger moujahidin climbed the trees and shook berries down into the chill water. We sat with our feet in the water below the pool, cooling them from the march and eating the mulberries and I recall the faces of the moujahidin - fierceness melted by the moment's content. I recall jokes and laughter and an intense companionship and trust one in the other and of trust in these harsh mountains that rose purple from the valley and barred Russians in their tanks and APCs. Now the tanks and APCs and gunships are American and British – and the heroes I traveled with are terrorists.

SCREW OUR SOLDIERS

I have been watching the Defense Debate in the House of Commons. Present are a mere half-dozen Labour MPs. This is the Party of Government that has sent our soldiers into battle after battle, too often with insufficient, ineffectual or unserviceable equipment. What must a soldier think as he sees those empty benches? A soldier back from Afghanistan? A soldier crippled by bomb attack on a snatch Landrover? A soldier with recent memories of lost companions? Companions who might have been saved were there sufficient helicopters?
There writes the Old Blimp again, the ex-cavalry officer off his bike...Who cares?

MISERY

Bernadette has been in agony for the past four days with an infected tooth. My brother and sister-in-law came to dinner last night - anniversary of my mother's death. Bernadette was brave in sitting through the meal before heading for bed on a cloud of painkillers.

BIKE TEST

A new journey begins with a drive to the Drivings Standards Association Test Pad at Gloucester. The Test Pad is a large tarred rectangle some 150 meters by 80. The Pad is patterned with different coloured cones and two speed gates. Steve of Acer Motorcycle Training will (maybe) coach me through the new SDA biker test that comes into effect on April 27. The SDA will test me in advance on April 2 so that I can describe what is entailed in an article for Motorcycle News.
The test is about control. It begins with the rider keeping pace with a pedestrian. Next comes a slalom and double 8. Then for the difficult bit - difficult for me. Ride the length of the pad and back, pass through a speed gate at 50 KPH and immediately swerve and come to a halt. I finally managed 40 KPH after six attempts. Speed never was my strong suit...

SOUP

I love D J Kirkby. She wrote a more than generous review of OLD MAN ON A BIKE. Now she offers to exchange soup recipes: her Lotus Land for my Jerusalem artichoke.
Proper stock is the first essential - none of those vile powders or stock cubes made from God knows what. Mostly I use chicken stock - though I keep vegetable stock in the freezer for vegetarian guests. Chop and melt two shallots and two cloves of garlic in unsalted butter. Meanwhile peel and slice the Jerusalem artichokes and simmer the Jerusalem artichoke peelings in the stock for twenty minutes to concentrate the flavour, strain. Add the artichokes to the onion and garlic and cook gently for a few minutes before adding the stock. Simmer until the artichokes are soft. Blitz with a blender till smooth. Check the seasoning. Reheat before serving and stir in the creme fraiche.
Guests tend to eat a second serving so prepare plenty or whip their bowls away quickly.

GRAVITAS

The USA has a Secretary of State. We Brits have a Foreign Secretary - same job, different title. The Foreign Secretary projects the public image of the nation. Like her or hate her, Hilary Clinton is impressive. I have been watching our Foreign Secretary on TV - David Milleband. He possesses the gravitas of a student at a Provincial University. No wonder the Russian Foreign Minister treated him with contempt.
Perhaps age has caught up with me....

JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE SOUP

Jerusalem artichoke soup is delicious. I used creme fraiche rather than cream, lighter and adds a gentle tang. Also proper chicken stock. Stock cubes are a negative.

HARPER COLLINS = MURDOCH

Harper Collins bought OLD MAN ON A BIKE after the bankruptcy of The Friday Project. Harper Collins have lost their copy of our contract. They have asked me to sign a new contract. My agent, Paul Marsh, has asked for a return of the foreign rights with which Harper Collins have done nothing. Harper Collins won't cooperate. The original contract with Harper Collins included an advance against royalties. They have never paid this advance. They admitted that I was leagally due the advance - however if I insisted on being paid, they would publish OLD MAN ON A BIKE as a cheap paper back. Harper Collins is part of the Murdoch Empire....
Meanwhile I have been cooking Jerusalem artichoke soup and a smoked haddock risotto for Father Dominic of Blackmore and Upton Parishes.

CONFESSION

I have never taken a UK biker driving test. I have never ridden a bike in the UK. The weather has put me off. Our youngest son, Jed(19), claims that my car is his car. He has been working this winter at the Hotel Belles Piste in Araches la Frasse (Haute Savoye). Most days he snowboards from 10 am to 4 pm. He returns home at the end of April and will want my car to drive to mountain-board meets. Rather than argue ownership, I shall get a bike. A Honda 125, naturally. I am booked with the DSA to take the new test the first week in April. Monday I begin practicing. I am extremely nervous. Jed will mock the hell out of me if I fail.
So will Bernadette....
The photograph is of Jed out of his head. He calls it having fun. Mad...!

VISIT MEXICO AND DIE

I've been reading posts on Fodors Travel Forum warning of the dangers in traveling to Mexico - mostly US citizens scared by reports of kidnappings and narco wars.
Here is my post:

Aged 75, I rode my Honda 125 north through Mexico last year on my way back from Tierra del Fuego to New York. The route took me up the Pacific coast, east via Merida and Queretaro to the Sierra Gorda and north into Texas at Brownsville. I never felt in any danger.
Recently we have been watching the WIRE here in England on TV. Based on the evidence of this much acclaimed series,tourists should be warned against visiting the US, especially Philadelphia. Oh, and certain areas of Washington DC, Miami, Los Angeles etc etc etc. Random killings are common in all these cities, cops are corrupt, narco gangs rule the streets...
Or be sensible, travel, meet new people, encounter different cultures and enjoy yourselves. I am planning a ride round the Indian subcontinent for next winter and intend celebrating my 77th birthday in Nepal.

Cheers!

ELEGANT BRIT BLIMP

A biker on Horizonsunlimited suggests that bikers have the advantage of always looking scruffy - thus less of a temptation to bandits. I think of myself as moderately elegant, good, well-polished Church shoes, gloves, clean shirt. You know - an English Gentleman of a certain age
Though I lose confidence in this image when sprawled in the dirt beside the bike...

LEOMINSTER CLASSIC MC CLUB

WITH GRAHAM


B and I drove down to Warmley (near Bristol) yesterday evening for a VOYAGER CLUB biker evening at the Midland Spinner pub. Great group, very patient as I droned on for more than an hour. B says that I am improving as a speaker but need to cut the presentation by thirty minutes. Next outing is 8 pm on April 1 for the LEOMINSTER CLASSIC MC CLUB at the Bush Inn, Bush Bank, Canon Pyon. Hopefully B will agree to drive home so that I can indulge in a couple of pints!