Constabulary duty

Well, alrighty then—big interesting news out of Blighty: the Andrew formerly known as prince has been arrested “on suspicion of misconduct in office”. Thames Valley Police (TVP) yesterday announced the arrest of “a man in his sixties from Norfolk on suspicion of misconduct in public office and are carrying out searches at addresses in Berkshire and Norfolk”.

TVP holds jurisdiction for Windsor, the former residence of the former prince (who lost all his titles and his rent-free house last month and is now known as Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor), in Berkshire. Norfolk includes Sandringham, the estate owned by Charles III, the ex-Duke of York’s brother. So everyone in Briton understood who was being nicked.

The charge is believed to be related to information in the latest tranche of Epstein Files, which included emails that looked a whole lot like Mountbatten-Windsor was sending disgraced (and currently dead) financier and trafficker of minors for sex Jeffrey Epstein confidential information related to M-W’s work when he was a trade envoy for Britain.

A few years ago M-W settled a lawsuit by Virginia Roberts Giuffre, who reported that he had sexually abused her when she was 17 years old, under the auspices of Epstein and his procuress, Ghislaine Maxwell. (Maxwell is currently serving a federal sentence for some of her work with Epstein, although the Kleptocrat last year had her moved from a high security prison—in line with the crimes for which she was convicted—to a low security one, where she enjoys yoga lessons and puppy visits. Her condition for testifying before Congress is a presidential pardon. Gawd, this timeline.) The settlement was in the millions, although M-W has denied all accusations. It is believed that his mother, the late Queen, provided some to all of the money to settle, because Andrew has never had that kind of dosh.

(You will note that M-W has not been charged with anything related to sex trafficking; it's about financial malfeasance in connection with official duties. However, there's still time to add charges. Please God.)

Well—I mean, it’s exhausting just to write that much.

Charles issued a statement supporting the arrest and “the full, fair and proper process by which this issue is investigated in the appropriate manner and by the appropriate authorities.” Which is putting the best face possible on the matter, as—Lord knows, the royal family has tried to paper Andrew’s peccadillos over for decades. Pretty sure they knew he was taking backhanders from countries he was trade envoying to, and he and Fergie have not exactly been the best face of the monarchy with their feckless lifestyle in general. But email evidence, man—too much at a time when the royals are trying to justify their existence.

Anyway—I’m thinking about the police officers who passed through security at Sandringham, knocked on the ex-prince’s door, showed their warrant cards and politely intoned the British equivalent of the Miranda warning: “You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

I mean—when word came down there must have been a mad scramble to be on the deputation. And on the search parties at Sandringham and Windsor. Jeez—these people will be dining out (discreetly) on this event for decades.

So here’s “The Policeman’s Song” from Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Pirates of Penzance. Every once in a while, something arises to make the daily grind worthwhile. Slapping metaphorical cuffs on someone who was for a long time third in line to the throne would qualify.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Turf war

The nearby golf course has been closed by snow since we got the big dump on 25 January. I mean—you can’t really plough the greenways, can you?

So a gang of Canadian marauders has pretty much taken over the 3^rd Hole. They’ve been there for several days and I reckon that club management are going to have a difficult time dislodging them when the snow finally completely melts.

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Doggone

Normally when I post about vanity plates, it’s a collection of them. But this vehicle was so much more than a license plate—although that’s what caught my eye at first in the library parking lot.

I mean—there was a whole theme going.

Then the driver came out while I was taking this shot:

Turns out there was a whole other bunch of dogs on the other side:

All of them have been in her life; Bodhi, Diesel and Vincent are still with her.

She also noted that the veterinarian sticker carries a universe of truth.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

New to the 'hood

Okay, it’s possible that I may have a new neighbor.

She appeared to be gathering leaves and then went through the fence to where my neighbor has a wooden deck about half a foot above the ground. I’m thinking she may be building a nest?

Now I have to figure out what opossums eat—aside from Costco tuxedo cakes.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Gratitude Monday: going places

My current passport expires in August, which—in this fakakhta world—means it’s functionally useless, because many countries won’t accept your entry if your passport has less than half a year to go before expiry. So last month I dredged around to see what’s necessary to renew online.

It was interesting to me to discover that—as long as it essentially fits the frame—you can submit a selfie for your photo. JPG, TIF, PNG—US State Department is happy to take them all. And since all the usual suspects charge between $10-$15 for hard copies and extra for digital (??), I thought, well—I can do that for free.

I would have submitted the photo that professional photographers shot for my company badge seven years ago, but I was wearing glasses in it, and they are strenglich verboten.

I hesitated on the declaration of hair color—I mean, it’s currently pink, but it will change throughout the year to blue, green and whatever else strikes my fancy. These days, you don’t know what’s going to get you disqualified from citizenship.

Even though you put in the number of the expiring passport at the beginning of the process, they don’t auto-fill for you, so you have to go through the whole megillah, just like you’re a first-timer. That was annoying. But I got it all together, uploaded the photo, handed over $130 in Amex and hit submit.

That was 2 February and I was given a prospective turnaround date of 21 March, because processing.

Imagine my surprise, then, to open a USPS Priority Mail envelope yesterday and find this:

Yippee!

I am super grateful on many levels.

The process worked, and even delivered ahead of schedule. Way ahead.

So far, I apparently haven’t been put on any Degraded Citizenship lists. I can leave the country.

I went through all the pages—there’s no photo of that asshole in the Oval Office on any of them.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Touching grass

You may not be able to tell it from these photos, but what you’re looking at is grass. And other green growing things.

They’re emerging from the snow that’s been piled up for three and a half weeks.

So I’m celebrating today with Tom Jones singing “The Green, Green Grass of Home”.

 

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Snowscapes

A few more vehicular artifacts from the Big Freeze of ’26—

Stalactites hanging from an SUV:

This one made me wonder if the ninja made it out of the car, because the car clearly did not make it out of the snow:

That carpet cleaning guy in front of the ninjamobile must not have a lot of business; the van was still in the snow as of yesterday.

I just was interested by the splatter pattern from snow sludge on this one:

 

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

 

Waiting for the melt

Well, here we are, two-and-a-half weeks out from the Big Dump o’ Snow we got last month, and some folks still haven’t dug their vehicles out from the roadside.

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This guy was out yesterday morning, after I shot this, trying:

Spaces are cleared from either side of this pickup, but clearly the driver is just, “Nope, nope, nope. Not gonna.”

This one is interesting—in the cluster so really not all that much to clear. But: nope.

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

ROI

You know who really loves my heated birdbath?

Robins.

Worth every penny.

©2026 Bas Bleu

 

Gratitude Monday: Neighbors

In the past three or four weeks, we here in the environs of The District They Call Columbia have been freezing. No, seriously—temperatures have only once or twice risen above the freezing point, and that for only a few hours.

Saturday morning, I checked the weather before going on my walk; Android said 17F, and I thought, "Okay--I've gone out in 12F, this’ll be okay.”

And then I got outside and heard this roaring sound. Which turned out to be the wind. I barely got 20 yards along before I realized I was not going to make my full snow-curtailed circuit, because that wind was absolutely shredding me. I checked Android again: Oh—"Feels like 1". Right. 

As someone posted in the r/nova sub:

So I am filled with greater and abject awe and gratitude for the people in Minneapolis who for months—come day, go day; in fact day and night—continue to fill the sub-zero streets with whistles and jeers to protect and witness for their neighbors, who are being targeted by our own government. They suit up (in many layers), charge up their phones and put themselves in harm’s and cold’s way as testament to decency and humanity.

God bless them all.

 

©2026 Bas Bleu