Blog 482 22 May 2025

Thursday was a quiet day. After all, some people have blogs to write and I decided to get up early and get it done fast. I can work quite efficiently but I am a fan of serendipity and usually distract my self very effectively. But I did succeed and got out of the flat to do a coffee, some reading and my usual mooching around the area.

I also put a bit of effort into a local triumph. Somebody told me that a friend of hers had visited the Bedford Regatta (no, me either) and been enthused by the success of our modest local rowing club, which is new and not very shiny because of its poor facilities.

I had a look and tried to understand the results on the website but they were hard to decipher. But here's a thing, they won two finals and a lot of heats. Most of the competition are public schools and other representatives of the ruling class and not many from state schools in quite deprived areas. My favourite was the heat we won against Eton College (yes, that one). To be clear, I played no part in that triumph apart from trying to help the club. I am very proud of them, as all in Brentford should be. They are organising a Pubgatta with entries from many of the local hostelries and I ma trying to encourage a team of councillors and/or council officers racing Cornish Pasties. I think that's what they are called, but the word may be wrong. Marathon Hero Tom Bruce is the first vi=olunteers and Sue Sampson the Housing supremo has also said she will be taking part.

In the evening I had got a ticket for 39 Steps: this was being put on by the St Faiths Players at Brentford School for Girls. Well, I was very familiar with this story from films like my first look - Kenneth More as the star in 1959, and being a bit backward, Robert Doughnut (as he is widely known) from 1935. If I was really backward I would have started with 2 other films made later, plus various Radio and TV versions. Nor was I up to speed with the Theatre version, so this was quite an education.

Well, it was the funny version and was quite a blast. There was a cast of about 50 but they were all played by 7 Brentford locals of the current fashionable (or not) type of variable gender. It would be very wrong for an old socialist like me to pick out a star, because there were dozens visible on the stage and dozens more behind the scenes. They are all stars, and it was a lovely evening, even for someone like me who is inclined to nod off in plays. Emphatically no nodding here, and Brentford should be proud of the St Faith's Players. This had previously passed me by, but I will be very interested hereafter!

Friday was a day without appointments and I decided to devote to it to chapter two version of cars made in Hounslow, of which I published the first chapter last week. It started with the receipt of my expensive back copy of The Automobile, which I had chosen because it included a story about Hudson in Brentford. Well, there were 6 pages of this and some great pictures. This is one though my dexterosity isn't really up to taking a photo of a crinkly page from a magazine. Well, the journalist might risk being lynched in Brentford as he observes "Brentford still inspires its share of colourful adjectives, but few would attach to it the epithet 'golden'". Wash your mouth out, Mr journalist with Brilliant Brentford Thames Water water with its secret ingredient to deal with the disrespectful. Anyway, he is nice about the Golden Mile and its history. This car's first owner was Lady Emma Thynne, later the Marchioness of Northampton and she saw Brentford's good side because she kept it for 42 years before she became an ex-Marchioness and left the car to her chauffeur whi still drove it around for another decade before putting it into storage. Would probably have made an excellent Uber, but ended up briefly in the Shetlands before ending up in Devon with a film buff who wants it to look suitable American for those playing US generals before D-Day.

Oh, off on a tangent again. Anyway, after perusing the mag I was on another mission to the place where Frazer-Nashes were all made - in Isleworth. Whilst there I had a call from the RSA (of which I am a member) who told me one of the builders on the Heidelberg site had my wallet - actually phone case - and had identified me from the RSA membership card. I rushed back and ended up in the bowels of the development at the Site Office. I got my stuff back (thank you humbly) but also had a chance to sneak about their office.

Took a few pics but this is the easiest to understand. River Brent is on the right and the canal/weir stream is at the bottom. I reckon Blocks A to D are more or less complete - some of C I think is already inhabited ready for Lidl across the road. They didn't start the ones near the river until they had finished deafening us with the river wall construction (though I think Muck, the tribute to the Hebrides, is probably progressing well) and actually all the rest is shooting up too. So glad that one of the developments in Brentford is actually happening, and happening fast.

On Saturday I was up to Heston for the HAGs AGM. They are really wonderful and an inspiration to all of us with their pride and willingness to do what it takes to make Heston better. Of course, there is still plenty to do. The hall was quite packed, including 3 councillors (including amazingly one from Heston as well as one from Brentford). Reminds me they have asked me to persuade some Brentford people to become London National Park Rangers. A few of them were there and the HAGs are in important roles within this London wide organisation. I remember being proud in about 2016 being one of the first wards - Mel, the late lamented Myra and I became one of the first wards to sign up to this. https://nationalparkcity.london/rangers

After that it was my annual harvest. Well it has become several times annually now because Bia - who I hope by now has managed to finalise her lease in Brentford so she can soon return here from her (official) squat in Isleworth - has taken my hair under proper maintenance.

On Sunday afternoon I was down to Waterman's Park for a musical session in honour of Mental Health Awareness Week. It was a very mellow event but did wonders for my mental health, even got me dancing. There was a woman with a dodgy foot who also started dancing. I have since heard she went to West Middlesex after and the X-ray revealed a broken ankle, but it didn't stop her dancing and looking like she was having as much fun as I was.

As you may have not have noticed, a lifeboat has arrived at Watermans Park. Haven't heard of a liner founding by Richmond Lock but they never tell me anything. Meanwhile you can see from this our wonderful - if currently entering its about fifth year of disuse - new pontoons are, umm, not progressing. Should I be pleased that a new wreck has joined the 3 or 4 that were not cleared 6 or 7 years ago. Perhaps we will again be starting a mass squat there like the old one in the same place and the one I have been calling for action on at Clitherow's Island for about 6 years. That island is owned by the council apart from a small bit by the lock which is owned by a woman who seems to live above a Leyland SDM shop in Fulham High Road.

On Tuesday a friend bought me a ticket to see an event at the Royal Geography Society. Never knew it was there but I knew Albert who had a Hall next door. Well I didn't know him personally. It was supposed to be Jess Philips speaking together with Sayeeda Warsi which would have made a good spectacle. For reasons unknown, there was no Jess but we did get Sayeeda, and she is one of those rare politicians with a sense of humour mixed with passion. Yes I know she is a Conservative but I think her heart is in the right place. It was a fun meeting and my friend got a signed book. I think she's great. But don't tell anyone as they will likely kick me out of the Labour Party. Oh, sorry, not thinking straight.

On Wednesday morning I visited my Lodge. Well, not really mine but someone thoughtfully called it Lambert Lodge, no doubt as a tribute to me despite they had never heard of me. Clever these Brentonians. The Lambertlings who live in the Lodge, are revolting because they are upset about various things about the way it is run. This is particularly worrying because whenever - too rarely - I visit, I am struck by what a lovely home it is. Well maintained, sufficiently spacious, lovely gardens and well located. In fact all the people I met agreed with that and one of them, who has been an inspector for a national body looking at sheltered housing, stressed that the places provided by Hounslow are much better than others that he's seen.

They are upset because a lot of the rooms are empty and in at least one case an apartment has been empty for 2 years. So nobody is using a good home at a time when these are in such low supply. Meanwhile, people who would be happy here are in many cases in council flats or private rentals that are unsuitable for their disabilities. Eventually they persuade the council to provide adaptations. In many cases, these homes then shortly after have to be 'unadapted' leading for more empty homes and homeless or badly housed people. On two occasions I have tried to get people accommodated there. They would happily have paid but were both turned away. One is still in a council flat 2 years later. The other was put up in a hotel at the expense of the NHS so they could free a bed in West Middlesex. Not happy at the inflexible approach, and I'm working on it.

In the afternoon we had a meeting about the Heritage Harbour proposal, which is moving on. We are looking to get accepted as a charity, and looking to get a decent website going, and a bank account so we can perhaps extort a few quid out of locals to help make this happen.

Today, Thursday, I was off on my 'cars made in Hounslow, this time looking at Aston Martins. For a large chunk of their life, Astons were made in Feltham (for a bit) and Hanworth (for longer). So I drove out (not in an Aston) to the Aston Martin Heritage Trust Museum.

This is in an old barn (I think they said from the 1400s) in a village near Wallingford in Oxfordshire. It is cunningly hidden but I found it on the third attempt. It's small, and perfectly formed, a bit like me. That's all you're getting. More when I do an Aston story.

On the way home I decided to take the scenic route. This took me through the achingly gorgeous Reading but also through Pangbourne. I remembered it vaguely from years ago when I had a boat on the Thames. Interesting backwater, I suppose, but I was surprised I had to pay 60p to cross the bridge there. Apparently it is of one of only two remaining privately owned toll bridges across the Thames. It is owned by the General Estates Company. This is run by Mr James Crothers Habgood Percy, assisted by Mr Andrew George Percy (perhaps his dad, judging by birth dates) and Mr Peter Francis Walker

It all seems rather dodgy. The lady took £1 from my Visa card and gave me 40p in change. I didn't mind that bit, but it all seems rather feudal. The history seems to ba some kind of cockup by the county council after a privatisation to a company whose main business seems to be caravan parks. And my tiny mind notes there are a lot of Percys about. And Our local benefactor beloved by so many locally is Ralph George Algernon Percy, the 12th Duke of Northumberland. Obviously a coincidence. My little mind contemplates Percy, and remembers when it was famous amongst young chaps (and perhaps chapesses) in the 1970s https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_(1971_film)