There’s a strange habit among car manufacturers lately of producing some cracking looking luxurious saloons and pitching them anywhere and everywhere but the UK. Somehow we don’t seem to figure in their plans.

Well, that may be about to change with Suzuki and the new Kizashi. Here in the UK the Suzuki brand tends to bring up images of low-budget 4×4s and small city cars. The Kizashi, a nice big luxury saloon is currently destined for Japan and North American markets.

Having been bantered around since 2007, the Kizashi name has been attached to a series of concept cars but the 2010 production model will be the manufacturers first entry into the all-wheel-drive sport saloon market and hit showrooms by the end of this year.

Great, but will I be able to, say, pop down the road and find this new Suzuki in Sussex? Possibly… Suzuki have said that if this car is received well enough they’ll consider dropping it here. While that sounds like a bit of a politicians promise it is, strangely, promising and would do wonders for the company’s image here.

When launched it will powered by a 2.4 litre DOHC inline four-cylinder engine kicking out 185 bhp. Inside and Suzuki have gone all out for luxury with a list of creature comforts longer than your arm. But, unless it comes over here I won’t break a sweat getting too concerned as to whether the stereo is iPod compatible. It probably is.

I went to Brighton for a day at the seaside on Sunday, damn was the weather rough.  As soon as I turned the corner onto the coast road I was pushed back by the wind and literally felt bruised by the rain.  The sea was crazy rough with the highest waves that I have ever seen in the UK.  In fact higher waves than I saw in California this summer.  Pretty intense.

Here’s a taster, obviously other cooler pictures will feature in an obligatory facebook album that shall appear at a later date.

Stand by for a real blog entry tomorrow.

Let me start by saying thank you to Karen over at the Twigs to Roots blog for bestowing a Kreativ Blogger Award on me and my blog. It is great to have a new geneablogger with English ancestry, and more importantly with Sussex ancestry, so I am no longer alone blogging about my Sussex ancestors!

Apparently I have to pass this award on to seven other bloggers, which is not going to be easy. I never have been good at making decisions, so forgive me if I sit on the fence for a bit longer.

The other thing I am supposed to do is tell you seven things about me, preferably things that I haven’t told you about before. Whilst I am deciding who to give the award to (and never being one to stick to the rules!), I thought I would give you something to think about. So instead of seven facts about me I am going to give you eight, but only seven of them are true.

1. I have only left England six times in my life.
2. My favourite band is the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band.
3. In my final years at school I excelled in maths, but failed in history.
4. I have not had a day off work sick for over seven years.
5. My favourite food is a crispy bacon sandwich with tomato ketchup.
6. I once owned a pair of fluorescent yellow socks.
7. I can’t drive a car, but was once trained to drive a forklift truck.
8. I have more books than I will probably ever have time to read.

So which one of these do you think is false? Can I lie convincing in a blog post? Let me know in the comments and I will give you the answer in a few days.

Kia have today launched their luxury saloon, the K7. A belter of a car, Kia are hoping to shift 40,000 of them next year as it hits roads armed with the choice of 2.4litre, 2.7 litre or 3.5 litre engines.

Kia will releas the car across the Middle East, China and Africa next year with the sedan hitting American roads in 2011.

While this is undoubetdly a fantastic looking car and one that’s sure to prove popular we won’t see this new Kia. Sussex and UK drivers aren’t even scheduled to get this car.

Why??! Yet again, this is a cracking looking car and one that would do wonders for Kia’s image here but instead we’re left looking at pictures like this and knowing our roads aren’t quite up to scratch for Kia’s vision.

A visit to Nymans Gardens is a real treat!  Nymans is a National Trust property in stunning setting overlooking the Weald close to Haywards Heath.  Ludwig Messel purchased the 600 acre estate in 1890 and began planting shortly thereafter. His son Leonard succeeded him in 1915.  The house was substantially damaged by fire in 1947 but the gardens survived.  Leonard’s daughter Anne and her second husband, Michael Parsons 6^th Earl of Rosse (of Birr Castle) partially rebuilt the house and lived there.  In 1953 Leonard died and left the gardens to the National Trust.

The gardens are laid out in a series of outdoor rooms packed with superb annuals, perennials and shrubbery.  Visitors can also wander around the house.  There are stunning views from the various walks throughout the gardens.

Nymans Gardens

Nymans

A trail through Nymans

Original Antique Map of Sussex by Emanuel Bowen

From the Large English Atlas by Emanuel Bowen circa 1760. Very decorative and denotes valuable agricultural commercial and political details relating to Sussex.   Beautiful copy of this fascinating map.

See here for full details: 18th century map of the county Sussex by Emanuel Bowen

Condition: Good imprint, later hand colouring, tacked with tape in all corners to a backing board.

Biography:

Emanuel Bowen fl. 1714 -1767

An 18th century map and print seller, who worked in London from about 1714, producing some of the best and attractive maps of the century. A recurring feature of Bowen’s work, evident even on the early road maps, was his habit of filling every corner and space of the map with jottings and footnotes, both historical and topographical.

One of his earliest engraved works Britannia Depicta, published in 1720 contained over two hundred road maps together with a miniature county map of each of the counties of England and Wales. It was an unusual feature of the atlas that the maps were engraved on both sides of each page, and this resulted in a handier sized book.

He also issued with John Owen a book of road maps based, as was usual at the time, on Ogilby but again incorporating his own style of historical and heraldic detail.

Inspite of his royal appointments and apparent prosperity he died in poverty and his son, who carried on the business was no more fortunate and died in a Clerkenwell workhouse in 1790.
Other Works by Emanuel Bowen

Sussex Elks Lodge Arts & Crafts Fair 2009

If you have the time, you might want to head to Sussex, NJ on Saturday, November 28, for what sounds like a terrific showing of talented artists and craftspeople selling some fabulous, top-quality American-made items!

I’ll be there too, with Fairy and Mermaid books and related gifts, ready to sign special notes to unsuspecting recipients this holiday season. This could be a perfect alternative for shoppers who might normally head to the malls after Black Friday’s madness.

The Elks Club organization is an active, lively supporter of both Veterans and Disabled Children. This event is just one way they reach out to their community and support their worthy causes. Come and join the fun at:

Sussex Elks Lodge , 152 County Route 565 , Sussex, NJ,  phone: 973-875-3990

Saturday, Nov. 28, 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.

So let’s say what we know about Monty Panesar so far:

1. Anybody who’s seen him bowl can see that he’s a marvellously natural bowler. He has a gift for controlling his length and enough of an innate variation in pace to deceive world-class batsmen. He doesn’t turn it much, but half a bat’s width is all you need.
2. He has taken 126 wickets in 39 Test Matches. That’s  very good. He’s a very good bowler. Ashley Giles, until then England’s main spinner, retired at the young age of 33 within 9 months of Panesar’s debut. The writing was clearly on the wall.
3. In 2008 England appointed Mushtaq Ahmed as spin bowling coach, to “mentor our leading spin bowlers“.
4. Since then, Panesar’s career has gone into a steep decline. He lost his England place to Graeme Swann and at the end of the 2009 season Northamptonshire admitted he was a luxury they could no longer afford having taken only 18 first class wickets in the season.

So what’s gone wrong with this gifted cricketer? I’m afraid the clue may be No.3 above.

Panesar’s limiting factor is his lack of guile. His naivety reveals itself in his self-conscious and clumsy fielding and batting. Only with a ball in his hand does he become a creature of grace and beauty. He doesn’t have the imagination to plot the downfall of a batsman like a chess game, he lets the batsman do this himself. And most batsmen will ultimately think themselves out if they can’t score runs and they don’t know why. So his limiting factor is also one of his unique strengths.

Panesar’s lack of ego is a contributing element to this. If he gets hit for a boundary it is not revenge that is uppermost in his mind but a desire to correct the minor fault that caused the lapse. To his credit, his response is not to bowl a flat defensive ball nor a cunning trick delivery but to bowl the same ball again with his natural minor variations. This is what gets good batsmen out.

What he needs is help in understanding this. Help to retain the natural gifts over time and help to see why they are his main weapons.

What do we give him? Mushtaq Ahmed. The other sort of spinner.

Mushy is cunning. He has a wide variety of deliveries, each more perfidious than the last. He is clever and aggressive. He is so not what Monty needs. And now he will have his advice not just with England but with Sussex, Panesar’s new county and Mushtaq’s old one. Here’s the Sussex manager Mark Robinson:

We have got Mushtaq working with us a little bit, who is anything but a technical coach, to preach the love of the game and use of the imagination

And Monty loves him:

I spoke to Mushy who still thinks of Sussex as his county and he was keen to have me at Hove. He said that there was a real family feel to the club and Mike Yardy, who I have toured with, was also very persuasive.

There’s your answer. Monty needs technical help in retaining and exploiting his natural gifts. The last thing he needs is somebody to give him an imagination. Mushy’s input will be entirely towards this destructive goal and not at all with the technical thing.

I see no way back for Monty at this point.

Wochenende läute ich hier in Brighton jetzt mal ein. Eigentlich schon gestern Abend. Waren in unserer Stammkneipe – East Slope Bar – und haben drei ziemlich fantastischen RockWhateverBands gelauscht. Leider war es mal wieder wie immer. LEER. Also nicht nur das Bierglas nach dem ein oder anderen Lied, sondern auch die Bar. Völlig unverständlich für mich. Musik, Rock, Newcomer, eventuell die Killers von 2010 und das Ganze für umme. Naja ich mag mich da nicht weiter drüber aufregen. Uns hat es gefallen.

Deshalb bekommt ihr hier jetzt auch einen Link zu der Hauptband

Redtrack the band – live noch n tick punkiger und härter.

Wenn mir die Namen der anderen Bands wieder einfallen geb ich Bescheid. Ansonsten werde ich jetzt mal schön an meinem Essay weiter schreiben und nebenbei durch die Weiten des Internets surfen.

Thomas and Rebecca POCOCK of Madehurst, Sussex

Interestingly Thomas and Rebecca POCOCK of Madehurst, Sussex had a daughter Susannah who was baptised in Madehurst on the 17th January 1808. They also had at least two other daughters, Harriet baptised 1806 and Rebecca baptised 1810.

Why these might be Susannah’s parents

Their daughter Susannah was born about the right time, and there is an obvious match with her christian name and surname.

Why these might not be Susannah’s parents

The problem is that Madehurst is in the wrong county, admittedly Sussex is next to Hampshire, but there is still quite a distance between Madehurst, Sussex and Micheldever, Hampshire. This doesn’t mean they didn’t move, but so far I have no evidence to suggest that they did.

What I need to do next

I need to find out what happened to Thomas and Rebecca, did they ever leave Madehurst? Also what happened to the two other daughters. If only I could find some link with Micheldever.

The kite surfers jumped in winds gusting at more than 40mph

Two kite surfers from West Sussex took advantage of strong winds on the south coast to realise an ambition to jump over Worthing pier.

Source:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/sussex/8362671.stm

Sussex Prairies Cheese Fest

We visited our dear friends Pauline and Paul McBride in Sussex on our trip home in the Summer. They were having an official opening party for their wonderful and huge garden called Sussex Prairies. They have pigs, geese, hens, sheep along with large Bison garden sculptures and a tea shop. It really was a wonderful event and a caber tossing competition was also enjoyed by all in attendance.

Sussex Prairies

They also set up a bed and breakfast at the farm. Gorgeously situated rooms, very well chosen linens and a proper cooked English breakfast with only the very very best local and home made produce. I know I shall be staying as often as possible when we move back to the U.K. If you are in the area or even if you are not you need to plan to be as you simply must stay at Sussex Prairies, their web site is www.sussexprairies.co.uk. They were in the November edition of Country Life too, very exciting, and a lovely spread in the magazine it was too. We are all so proud, especially as we know how long this has been in planned and how well they have executed it.

Sussex Prairies

And of course one final thing… They are garden designers of the highest caliber; which you can see by visiting their web site www.sussexprairies.co.uk and from my own recommendation. They designed a Garden for the British Ambassador in Luxembourg along with a huge garden for a private bank in Luxembourg. They oversaw the creation of the massive garden and the running of the conference center for the Bank and did a wonderful job at it too. We do miss them.

How did I end up busking at Heathrow Airport, you might wonder? It’s a tale of youthful ingenuity and a dash of inspired lunacy. When I was twenty years old I was living in Sussex and singing in a band with my mates David and Paul. The flat I lived in was situated above a petrol station which had closed down and the entire building was due for demolition. The eviction day had actually come and gone and I was still staying there. But I knew I couldn’t put off the inevitable forever and had to find somewhere else to be. Normal folk would get a local paper and check the property for rent. I was clearly far from normal and decided instead that I’d go hitching around and see what happened. This sounded like a good adventure to David so it was easily decided that we head off together.

Dave had been born in London and only moved down to Sussex when he was eight or nine, I think. He fancied going back to East Ham, to see how much he remembered of the place. East Ham became our first destination, then. Normal folk might take some food with them when they decide to go skylarking around in London. But normal was not our strong point and I seem to recall that our first meal in the capital was a loaf of brown bread. To make it slightly less dry we pinched some sachets of mayonnaise and salad cream from some tables outside a cafe. Yum yum, very nutritious.

We must have done some busking after that because I recall a far better meal when we were in East Ham. We checked out David’s old estate, which looked to me like any London estate but to him was full of memories, and then we gorged on fried chicken and huddled in a doorway. Either that night or the next day we returned to the centre of London to do some serious busking. During the day we asked a likely looking character if he knew of  a decent place to sleep: a cheap hostel or a warmish bridge where the cops didn’t move people on. Our adviser was obviously an old hand as what he recommended was a stroke of genius. “Listen,” he said, “A hostel will cost you X pounds, each per night, right? Well why not spend a quarter of that on a return ticket to Heathrow Airport?” I looked at him blankly, uncertain why that would help. “You can sleep on the seats there for free, guys. Plus there’s toilets and food outlets and what have you.” “Yeah but won’t there be security guards telling us to piss off?” we wanted to know. “Have you ever seen how many people have to sleep there because their flight’s been delayed for hours? Hundreds of them sometimes, all kipping on the seats or the floor. You’ve got rucsacks and guitars – you’ll just look like you’re travelling. No-one will look twice.” Clever chap.

We checked out how much return tickets would be, busked a bit more to make sure we had enough for some food too, and then headed for the airport and ate and slept and congratulated ourselves on having sorted out our accomodation problems. In the morning we washed and made ourselves presentable and one of us had another smart idea. There were lots of people leaving the country, having been here on holiday. If we could find a decent spot to busk at the airport, they might give us their English loose change because they weren’t going to need it back home. I’ve no idea where the concourse was that we discovered as I went back a few years later to try and find it again but to no avail. But the plan worked. People were more than happy to throw us their English coins. An hour’s busking that day meant we breakfasted like kings. Or pigs. Or piggy kings.

The money couldn’t have lasted long as soon we were back in London itself and busking again. This time things did not go quite so well and by dusk we only had enough money for one ticket to Heathrow. We decided that David would go back to the airport and busk there again, hopefully earning enough to come and get me later on. Meanwhile I was to stay in one spot, outside a tube station, so he’d know where to find me. Once he’d gone I felt small, insiginficant and not a little frightened in the big city. I decided to keep busking as the only way to stop my mind from straying to fearful thoughts, but my throat was raw from playing all day and I made next to nothing. I had said to Dave that if I was not outside the station I’d be inside where it was slightly warmer and I could sit down without being moved on for loitering. It was getting fairly late and I was feeling very alone. At one point a train pulled up and three guys spilled out onto the platform, two of them arguing with another who pulled out a knife and started waving it around at them. I was terrified, either that I was going to witness a stabbing or that they might somehow involve me in their confrontation. Luckily the knife guy ran off out of the station and the other two quickly followed but it was the last straw for me. I sat there crying, certain n0w that my London adventure was going to end very badly.

A man came onto the platform and noticed I was upset so he asked me what was up. I stuttered out the events of the day, from failing to earn enough money to get where I was going, to my friend leaving hours ago but not having returned, to the knife waving incident I’d just seen. As I was finishing my sorry tale a train was pulling in. “That’s my ride,” the guy said, delving into his pockets. He pulled out a fistful of coins and handed them to me. “I don’t know how much is there but maybe it’s enough to get you where you need to be.” he said and jumped onto the train almost before I had a chance to thank him. A quick count showed me I had enough for a trip to Heathrow plus something left over to buy food.

Three o’clock that morning I was sleeping back at the airport when I was nudged awake by someone’s foot. I wondered if the cleaners wanted me to move so they could do their job, or if security had finally worked out that I’d been sleeping here a couple of nights in a row. But it was David. “Where the fuck have you been?” I asked him. He looked slightly sheepish and admitted he’d met up with some random guy and ended up going to a party where he’d played guitar and been fed. I was pretty angry as basically he was saying he’d left me to my fate at the tube station. But it was impossible to stay angry with Dave for long as his description of the antics at the party proved funny and I had to admit that we’d both managed to find ourselves back here together again despite our separate (mis)adventures.

The next day we went back to the part of the airport where we’d made good money the previous morning. This time we played for a couple of hours and decided not to go into London. We ate in one of the restaurants at the terminal and chilled out, both exhausted from yesterday’s exploits. Another sleep and we were more than happy to busk at the airport again. And once more we were coining it in. But finally we’d been spotted by security. A guard ambled over to us with that hands-on-hips stance uniformed types adopt to appear more powerful, and told us he’d been watching us on the cameras. “Looks like you’re doing pretty well too.” he added. We were expecting him to tell us to get out of the airport but what he actually wanted was fifty per cent of our takings and he’d turn a blind eye. “Fifty per cent?” we cried. “No way, man. We’ll give you twenty-five per cent.” We tried to look like tough negotiators but he wouldn’t budge from his 50% figure. So we stuffed our guitars back in their cases, stuck our rucsacks on our backs and walked out of their with as much dignity as we could muster. We headed back home to Sussex after that, David to his folks house and me to months of homelessness and sofa-surfing. But that’s another story.

Jimbo 'overload.'

By @jumbosussexmtb

My wife has been cooking. These are images to make your mouth water:

Post roast, chicken curry:

Roast Pork & Braised Cabbage…

Sausages to help us warm up in the rubbish weather!

The Sebastian Gibson law firm provides International Business and Entertainment representation to businesses, entertainers, artists and celebrities from offices in Southern California. Learn more at http://www.SebastianGibsonLaw.com

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Specializing in the representation of entertainment and sports celebrities, business figures and international figures, Sebastian Gibson is that rare English and Welsh trained international lawyer you need for your international representation.

Today, Sussex is one of the world’s leading centers for business and entertainment. Sebastian Gibson has had a strong affiliation with Sussex since the 1980’s when he practiced exclusively in London and represented international figures and multinational companies in their business enterprises worldwide. His representation has included celebrities, royal family members, multinational corporations, insurance companies and even foreign central banks in a wide variety of legal matters.

Working with local solicitors and barristers throughout Great Britain and the UK, Sebastian Gibson can assist you with your legal issues and disputes and protect your legal rights in Sussex and throughout England, Europe and the World.

Some of the areas of law the law firm specializes in include, celebrity, entertainment and sports figure representation, publishing law, invasion of privacy, defamation, misappropriation and misuse of images, music, film and television law, multimedia law, internet and advertising law, modeling law, talent agent and management representation law, intellectual property, trademarks, copyrights and patent law, licensing, gaming, media, marketing, business, real estate and personal injury.

The Law Firm of Sebastian Gibson can assist you in your international legal matters in California as your American law firm and we will coordinate representation of your international legal matters throughout England, Europe and the World, working closely with local attorneys.

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Today, Sebastian Gibson represents models, writers, artists, performers, publishing companies and advises a host of celebrities in the entertainment field. Sebastian Gibson has also represented international insurance companies based in London as well as Canadian insurers and as a personal injury attorney today he knows how insurance companies analyze cases for settlement as well as anyone.

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Sebastian Gibson is a well-recognized name in U.S. and international legal circles with over 1500 legal articles on the internet and he has recently completed work on a book. Sebastian Gibson is also a former musician who performed full time internationally from the age of 16, and appeared on national television shows alongside other famous entertainers. After working in London for a number of years as an international attorney, he formed his own law firm in California in the early 1980s.

Sebastian Gibson received his B.A. from UCLA, and then obtained two law degrees, the first from Cardiff University in Wales, Great Britain and the second from the University of San Diego School of Law. He graduated cum laude from UCLA and magna cum laude from Cardiff University.

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My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

Refrain

On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Edward Mote died this date, 11/13/1874, at Horsham, Sussex, England.  He wrote “My Hope Is Built” (at the age thirty-seven).

 He was for many years a successful cabinetmaker (Jesus worked with wood).  Later Mote took a Baptist pastorate and stayed there twenty-six years.  His congregation loved him, in fact, they offered him the title to their church building.  He is reported to have said, “I do not want the chapel, I only want the pulpit…when I cease to preach Christ, then turn me out of that.”  Well said, brother.  Mott had been born 1/21/1797 at London, England.

Lime and cream cheese 'refreshing.'

By @jimbosussexmtb

On my return to England after my adventures in France I did not really settle particularly well. For some months afterwards I hitch-hiked across the bottom of England, shuffling between friends in the West Country and others in the South East and London. One of the first trips I made back on English soil, however, was the relatively short hop to Avebury stone circle. Thought to be about five thousand years old, this Wiltshire landmark had been recommended by one of the drivers who had given us a lift back from Dover when we returned to England. On this occasion I was with a mate of mine who wanted to come along for the experience. Because there is no single road between my home town and Avebury our journey was a succession of short rides and then sometimes quite long waits until we got another lift. I didn’t mind as it was interesting to see some of my own country in this way: the time spent in France had made me appreciate the countryside in a way that I had not done before.

It was getting dark when our latest lift dropped us about ten miles short of Avebury so we decided to ask at a nearby farm whether we could pitch our tent in one of their fields. They were happy to oblige and sold us some milk and some eggs for the morning. We made hot chocolate and moaned about our aching feet, although we’d hardly walked on them. Some time before dawn we woke up, packed the tent away and breakfasted on scrambled eggs before hitting the road again. An early bird took us right to the stone circle and we gazed in awe as the morning mists slowly lifted to reveal the standing stones. Nobody else was about. We walked in silence around the perimeter with that time-slip sort of feeling. But for the fences and the faint hum of morning traffic close by, we could have slipped back a few centuries. My overriding memory is of a tree which had been growing by the stones for so long that its roots had broken the surface. They seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning across the grass like a nest of snakes. Eventually we spotted another human, a girl who was sketching the stones and the trees. In hushed tones I told her about the tree with all the roots and she whispered back that she’d check it out later.

And then the coaches arrived. It must have been about half ten so we’d had a few hours enjoying the stones pretty much to ourselves and were thinking about finding a cafe before working out where we’d go next. When we reached the car park there were already five or six coaches parked up and seemingly hundreds of tourists milling around, babbling to one another and clutching tin-foil-wrapped sandwiches. A very loud American voice shouted to a friend “Hey Jack, come and get a shot of me next to one of these rocks!” and we knew we’d made the right decision to leave. The stones were no longer exclusively ours and the magic spell we’d been under all morning had broken.

Some weeks later I was hitching alone and hit a real low point. I had no money in my pocket and no tent yet the sun was low in the sky and it was clear that I was not likely to cover the hundred miles or so to my destination that night, which was a friend’s house in Sussex. An hour earlier I had been dropped at a service station, just like we used to in France, but nobody seemed to want to pick me up. I was starving hungry, I was worrying about where to sleep. A little way down from where I was standing was a small brick construction, no taller than a dog kennel, no wider than a car. The wooden doors were not locked and inside were a handful of traffic cones. I decided that I would be able to squeeze inside and sleep there if I really had to, but first I would try and see if the restaurant at the service station would let me do some washing up in return for a plate of food. The first woman I spoke to was Bengali and her English was not very good. I had trouble making her understand what I meant. “You come see manager tomorrow and apply for job.” she  repeated this several times and I was on the verge of saying “Never mind,” when another woman came out and asked what was going on. I explained once more that I was hitch-hiking, had no money and wondered if there were any odd jobs I could do in return for some food. She shook her head but told me to sit at one of the tables then bustled off somewhere. As I waited for her to come back I wondered whether she had gone to phone the manager. Or get security? On her return she was carrying a tray of sausage, chips and beans, with a pot of coffee on the side. “Eat,” she said. “But I can’t pay you,” I stammered. “Eat,” she repeated and smiled.

I could not thank her enough but she just shrugged and said she hoped someone would do the same for one of her kids if they ever needed it. Refreshed and energised I went back to the side of the road and decided I would try for another hour before crawling into the cone hut. And what do you know…someone stopped for me five minutes later. He was not going anywhere near my destination but as we drove along and I told him about the woman at the service station he began asking all sorts of questions about why I hitched around and what I wanted to do with my life. I told him I was a musician (he could have worked that out, I always travelled with my guitar in case I got stuck somewhere and needed to go busking), but that one day I wanted to be a writer. As for the hitching, I said it was the easiest way to find adventure and to meet some good people. As we were approaching the place I expected him to drop me off he turned to me and said he was going to drive me where I was heading. “But that’s forty miles out of your way, isn’t it?” I asked. “Yes but I wish I’d had your guts when I was younger and done some adventuring of my own. And besides, it’s dark and you’ve said you’ll probably have to sleep rough somewhere. So I’ll take you to your friend’s place and I won’t have to worry you’re in any danger.” As good as his word, he dropped me outside my mate’s house an hour later. As I thanked him and made to get out of the car he shook my hand, slipping five pounds into it as he did so. “So you can eat tomorrow,” he said, before closing the door, waving and driving off into the night.

Just because it’s not the middle of summer, there is no reason not to have a wedding now! Which is just what Louise & Neil did this month. (Well in a cold and wet October). It’s the people who make the sun shine and make real wedding party!

Set in the beautiful country side north of Chichester, Neil and Louise invited their family and friends to join them at West Stoke House for their wedding. I was delighted to be invited as the wedding photographer. The venue is one of the best in Sussex, with eight beautiful rooms for bride and groom and the guests to stay in, with elegant reception rooms to hold the wedding service, reception, dinner and party.

Here are just a few pictures from their wedding album.

More photos from this and other weddings, and examples of completed wedding albums designed and produced by White Nuptials Wedding Photography can be viewed at our website www.whitenuptials.co.uk

As the wedding season slows down a little for the winter and Christmas season, I now have the opportunity to update my blog. Looking back over the year I have been so fortunate to attend such beautiful weddings in wonderful locations, both locally in Sussex and Hampshire and further afield in Holland. One of which was Anna and Marks Percival wedding at St Peter’s Church in Titchfield, and afterwards for the reception at New Place House a little further north in Hampshire.

Here are just a few spreads from their bespoke wedding album.

With Anna’s background in design, everything was beautiful colour co-ordinated and look absolutely stunning. The couple and their guests filled the venues and the atmosphere was wonderful.

More photos from this and other weddings, and examples of completed wedding albums designed and produced by White Nuptials Wedding Photography can be viewed at our website www.whitenuptials.co.uk

It’s a strangely amazing looking concept car with a suitable strange name: The Ondelios.

How can you tell it’s a Renault? Well, as per – they got pretty much every detail nailed except for the grille:

That being said, though, I do like the sliver-like effect on the front lights. There’s some pretty impressive elements to this concept car, unveiled at last year’s Paris motor show.

Take the interior, for example:

The vents at the bottom bring to mind the mouth of a whale – not usually the sleekest of styling cues – but the interior looks like something from Flight of the Navigator. Still, I imagine that if those fancy pads fail you’ll be faced with quite a high Renault servicing bill.

I wouldn’t mind finding a steering wheel like this in my next car, though if the inside of any car looked like this I’d probably spend all day calling it KITT. That’s all day, everyday.

This handsome looking young man is my 2x great-uncle Ernest Arthur TROWER. He was the son of Ebenezer and Annie TROWER, who was born in Sayers Common, Sussex in 1895. He was baptised in the parish church at Sayers Common on the 13th October 1895. His life was tragically cut short when he was killed in action in France on the 23rd September 1917, aged 22 years old.

To my knowledge there are three memorials that record the name of Ernest Arthur TROWER and the sacrifice he made. Two of these I have not seen in person and one I have visited and photographed several times.

The first and most obvious is the memorial that I have already mentioned at Tyne Cot Cemetery in Belgium. Maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, Ernest is listed among the thousands of men with no known grave. It is my goal to visit Tyne Cot in the next couple of years and pay my respects, maybe even next year.

Secondly there is the war memorial inside Sayers Common parish church. I have not yet seen the memorial, but according to the Roll of Honour website it is a wooden plaque inside the church with the names of six men who died in the First World War and seven who died in the Second World War.

Interestingly of the six men who died in the First World War who are commemorated there, I have connections to at least two of them, and probably a third. As well as Ernest there is also William James GASSON another 2x great uncle, and Albert Edward SEYMOUR would probably have been the brother-in-law of my 2x great aunt Edith Ellen TROWER had he still been alive in 1923 when Edith married.

The third memorial is also in Sayers Common, Ernest is remembered on the gravestone of his sister Mabel Annie TROWER, who is buried in Sayers Common churchyard. I have previously featured this photo as a Tombstone Tuesday post.

The gravestone of Mabel Annie TROWER and Ernest Arthur TROWER

There is of course a fourth place where he is remembered, and that is in my family history. So long as my research survives the memory of Ernest Arthur TROWER and his sacrifice will also survive. Hopefully now that these four posts are out on the internet the life of Ernest will never be forgotten.