Foggy, dismal and damp this morning.
And the view was not much better after sunrise.
Continuing the series of passport portraits in my collection.
Peruse and wonder.
In 1933, Carl Erik Carlsson is a 51 year old Swedish fisherman working on a ship out of Lubeck, a fishing port in northern Germany. Two years later, in the pretty fishing port of Flensburg, Germany, his passport is endorsed by the Swedish consul to prohibit his travelling to Spain or the Spanish part of Morocco. This was a ploy to prevent him, a neutral Swedish national, from taking part in the civil war in that country.
Whilst in Flensburg he is granted a residence and work permit to remain in Germany which is stamped in his passport and from 1939 onwards these renewals bear the swastika endorsing stamp.
This is the photograph in his passport, not his seaman's book. It can be seen that his image has been cut from a larger group photograph, leaving the left arm and hand of his neighbour in the margin. He remains in Germany after the outbreak of war and continues to renew his German residence in Flensburg until February 1941 at which point entries cease in his passport.
Four years later, William Joyce (Lord Haw-Haw) is arrested in Flensburg by two British soldiers. He is brought back to the UK where he is accused of treason, tried and hanged.
They have lit the fire and are preparing breakfast.
In the calm of the morning the chimney smoke gently drifts northwards.
That is good news, the wind will be behind me now, blowing me home.
Apparently it is not over yet. Can you believe it?
Does anybody watch this sort of media reportage?
Here is another pretty picture. Look at that instead.
Remember? Trump or Biden? They still don't know. Oh yawn, yawn.
Here is a pretty picture to look at while you are waiting.
As I went to bed last night the BBC radio at newstime was jubilant to anounce that they would run all through the night to bring us the up to date news of the American election. They introduced their various correspondents in different parts of the USA and mentioned the plethora of pundits who were going to expound. I just wanted to hear the news. You know, the real news. Eventually they started to read the news: the first item was the announcement that there was going to be an election in America but they had just spent the previous five minutes telling us that. Was there nothing else happening in the world? Or even, dare I suggest, in Britain? It is the BRITISH Broadcasting Corporation isn't it?
Just consider this election for a couple of seconds, that is all it needs. The result is going to be either Trump or Biden. How can you make an eight hour programme out of the flip of a coin? I'll remind you – Trump or Biden. Or you could say, Biden or Trump. That is going to be the result. Either Trump will win, or Biden will win. Or you could say that Biden will lose or Trump will lose. One will lose and the other will win and the choice is between those two. Trump or Biden. Biden or Trump. Do I make myself clear? It's a choice between two. It will be either the one or the other. Or the other or the one. One is called Trump and the other is called Biden. Those are the two candidates.
In the morning I switched to RadioFrance for a change. Apparently there is going to be an election in the USA and either Biden or Trump will win but nobody knows yet. The result might take hours, it might take days, it might take weeks.
I went for my cycle ride and at 07.00 in the freezing cold and frost the usual girl was on her garden swing, swathed in her anorak, scarf and gloves and swinging her heart out. Back and forth, back and forth. One way then the other. Just like the American election but a damn sight more interesting.