Washing Machine, Horse Sense, Reculver

[poliphilo]

The washing machine hiccoughed part way through its cycle yesterday morning- and blew all the fuses. It was on its final chance- the repair man told us last time we called him out not to bother again- so we've ordered a new one. When it arrives- later today hopefully- it'll have a bag full of sodden laundry to process.

Ailz and I went out for the day and while we were gone Jenny and Ian talked to my mother about the uselessness of her one remaining racehorse. Everyone was dreading this conversation  but- as so often when you're in dread- things went smoothly; my mother conceded the point- as did the trainer- and the upshot is that the horse will be moved into another career and become someone else's pride and joy (and moneypit).

This is where Ailz and I ended up.  Reculver is a mile or two up the coast from Margate. It was the site of a Roman fort, a very early Saxon church and, currently, of this magnificent Norman ruin- which was abandoned by its congregation around 1800 but kept in repair as a navigational aid to shipping.

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

My mother's washing machine was over ten years old and has been repaired several times. It had reached a stage where it was cheaper to buy a new one than keep funding repairs.

The racehorse was costing around £1,500 per month- and that's without extras.

Until quite recently- at least into the era of photography- the towers at Reculver had little spires on them.