Sunday 31 March 2013

Interview with a Danda

See what I did there? Interview with a vampire, interview with a Danda... Here are a few basic facts about your favourite Danda before we get started.

1. He likes ice cream.
2. He drives a taxi.

Hello, Danda. How are you feeling on this fine Sunday morning?
Yeh. Alright.

Rumour has it that you recently watched The Sweeney starring Ray Winstone. Was it your opinion of this film?
Unprintable.

What is the silliest thing anyone has ever asked you in your taxi?
I was driving under the Picadilly underpass with some Americans in the back and one of them said to me, "Is this the tunnel where Princess Di was killed?"

Regale us with a story from yesterday's taxiing.
One of our local colourful characters, Jeannie, was spotted walking down the middle of the road waving her hands at cars to try and stop them. She was walking all shuffly because her knickers had fallen down around her ankles. I did not stop for her, unfortunately.

How do you feel about Laura's new project in which she aims to live more responsibly?
So far, the cooking's good.

What is your favourite book in the world?
Well, the books that I can read and re read and still enjoy almost as much as the first time I read them, are the Flashman books.

Would you say you have become "reliant" on tea, much as one would on drugs?
Yes.

What is your favourite thing Laura has cooked?
Oo, so many to choose from. Er. Thai chicken curry.

Why won't you let Laura have a chicken in the garden?
Cause I'm mean.

What is your opinion of Laura's blog and is it your favourite blog in the world?
Laura does a blog?!

How do you feel about breakfast?
Don't eat breakfast.

And now, the question that stumped Gordon Brown in the incident now known as BiscuitGate.... What is your favourite biscuit?
Chocolate digestives. No problem with that one.

...Cor, is that it, Laura? Not exactly Jeremy Paxman, are you? There was no really hard questions at all, was there?


And that, my friends is the end of this interview with Danda. I feel we can all learn something from the things we've read here.

Saturday 30 March 2013

Hearts on stuff

Although I had an interview with Danda planned for today's blog, he's having a major lie-in and, sadly, the prerequisite for my interview is that he is conscious. So I'm whipping out my back-up blog idea, which is to show you pictures of hearts I have found on stuff, because they pop up in unusual places. All you need is love and all that....

image



Ok, I made this one. But I thought it was a good place to start.

image



Milk splat heart

image



Egg heart

image



Latte heart

image



Train ticket heart

image



Flat white heart

image



Another milk splat heart

image



Cake heart

image



Garlic heart

And now, to finish, another man made heart but it's full of chocolate so I wanted to show it to you. Mmm...

image

Friday 29 March 2013

I am the Queen of everything

Well... Sort of... I've been nominated for the Liebster Award. That's basically the same thing, right? Thanks to Maggie Thom for the nomination!

So here we go, let's do this thing.

The Rules of the Award:

1. Post eleven facts about yourself.

2. Answer the questions the tagger has set for you and create eleven questions for people you’ve nominated.

3. Choose eleven people with fewer than 200 followers to give this award to and link them in your post.

4. Go to their page and tell them.

5. Remember, no tag backs.

11 Facts about me:

1. I had braces on my teeth when I was about twelve. Once I got a scarf stuck on the top ones.

2. Once, my gym knickers fell out of my bag onto my desk in front of the Maths teacher. That was pretty horrific.

3. I totally want to live on a farm.

4. I once went out with a man who got irate if he tried to run in front of me to open a door and I said, "It's ok, I've got it." He said I was emasculating him by not letting him open the door for me!

5. I used to own loads of jodhpurs and tell people I went horse riding a lot. I went about twice ever.

6. I want a chicken in my back garden to get eggs from!

7. I know the man who voiced Pingu.

8. I am going to Italy's Amalfi coast in three weeks and I am very excited!

9. I love walking along the river. Sometimes I dream of just taking a month off work and walking along the river every day until I get to the sea.

10. I once got roared at by a lion in the wild. Epic.

11. My ideal career would be some kind of farmer/baker/pianist/human rights lawyer. Any ideas how I can get those all into one?

11 Questions from Maggie Thom:

1. What makes you smile?
When children are at that stage where they can't quite pronounce things properly but they just sit babbling away to you and it's anyone's guess what they're going on about. Hilarious!

2. What’s your favorite song?
Oo, hard one. Songs I like always remind me of something so it's less about the song, more about the memory. I'm pretty keen on the Lion King soundtrack cause of the Namibia memories.

3. Extrovert or introvert?
Extrovert.

4. Singer in the car?
Don't drive.

5. Weirdest thing you’ve ever done?
Made underwear out of lined paper for my barbies. I didn't like how naked they were under their skisuits and thought the pin stripe pattern would look nice.

6. Your favorite dessert?
Oo. Um. Anything Italian and homemade. Homemade panna cotta. Homemade tiramisu. Homemade semifreddo.

7. Best book you’ve ever read?
Tender Is The Night. F. Scott Fitzgerald.

8. Best advice you’ve ever been given?
If you put your thumb and first finger out on both hands, the one which looks like an L is your left.

9. The neatest and best thing you’ve ever done for someone else?
Pass. Too boasty.

10. Something you’ve done that’s a lot of fun?
Spent a day on a farm learning how to make jam, chutney, ketchup and lemon curd.

11. If you could be anyone famous who would that be?
Clive Stafford Smith. He's a lawyer. He's amazing. Look him up.

My 11 nominees:

Blog The House Down - some baking, some eating, some cookies, some spinach.... It's all going on here.

Lovefoodlovefashion - pretty things to look and to taste, what more could you want from a blog?

Greenlightlady - beautiful nature photos. Sometimes I look at the pictures of flowers and sigh, remembering that once, we used to have flowers in England, before the long winter of 2013.

Kindredspirit23 - a lovely man living with the after effects of a stroke three years ago. He's good at fiction too.

The Better Man Project - I just like this blog. It motivates me.

20 Something, Huh? - food for thought in one's second decade.

(un)certainties - life in a foreign land and exiting the world of money for a gift-economy existence. Good luck, guys!

Someone Fat Happened - "When a man is tired of [Maggie's blog], he is tired of life," Samuel Johnson

Dorset Explorer - who knew stories from retirement could be so entertaining?

The Waiting - what?! You're not already following this blog? Come on, get involved. This blog is like a small rabibit in my heart (it will make sense when you get there).

Dan Bohmer - once a soldier in Afghanistan, now a dad at home with a little one on the way soon!

(I forgot about the 200 follower rule here and just picked people I like most. Sorry, Liebster gods.)

My 11 questions for my nominees:

1. Where should I go next on holiday?

2. How do you feel about Michael Buble?

3. Do you think that's really his name or did he just say the word bubble in a French accent and liked it?

4. What is your favourite fairground ride?

5. If we were on the bumper cars, would you bump me? (Bear in mind that I do not enjoy being bumped.)

6. Bungee jumping or skydiving?

7. Tell me an interesting fact about beetles.

8. I've got a friend expecting a baby girl in July. Any name suggestions I can pass on?

9. Do you know anything Abel and Cole? Are they unethical?

10. Do you have a farm I can come and work on?

11. Some friends are getting married in a little while. What should I get them?

Thursday 28 March 2013

Figure this one out!

I had a slightly mental dream again, everyone. Get your dream analysis heads on and figure this one out.

So I was doing a dissertation in the dream. It was about migration and what encourages it, or something like that. I had printed the subject of the dissertation in big purple letters then cellotaped it into a lined pad that I was taking notes on.

Somehow, by who-knows-what genius on my part, I had organised an interview with Prince William and Prince Harry for my research. I met them in a little pub somewhere with one of my friends, I don't know who. This friend had brought along one of her friends who just wouldn't shut up, basically. She was rabbiting on about the environment and the state of the country and what were the princes going to do about it and didn't they have a responsibility and blah blah blah.

At first I let her go on and on because I was hoping she'd give me a go. Eventually I just stopped her and got all stroppy. I was like, "Ok, could you give it a rest? I don't know if you realise but I arranged this meeting. I've got a dissertation due and I need to interview them as part of my research. I mean, these guys don't have very much time so could you let me get on with my stuff now, please?!"

Suitably admonished, she stopped talking but laughed at me a bit. The princes looked a bit surprised at my outburst but told me to start with my questions.

So I flipped to the page in my notepad where I had cellotaped the title of the dissertation and I couldn't find it! It was my turn to talk and I couldn't find, nor remember, the dissertation title! I knew it was something about migration.

I kept trying to ask them stuff from memory, I was going, "O, it's about migration and how we encourage it in this country."

They were going, "Immigration? O yeh, and the benefit system?" The loud mouth sitting next to me kept saying things about immigration and immigrants.

I was getting all annoyed but trying to be polite about it, given that I was chatting to the princes. I was going, "No. Not immigration. Migration. It's not about immigrants as such, it's slightly different."

The princes were waiting for me to tell them what it was about but I was flipping through and through my notepad and couldn't find the dissertation title.

Then they had to go and Prince William took out a notepad and jotted down his expenses, paying for everyone's drinks, then they left.

And then, on the floor, in a pile of papers, I found the dissertation title and I realised it wasn't specific enough. It didn't really have a clear focus. I started to worry about the deadline being in April as it's March now and there's not much time and I didn't have anything written yet.

I text my friend Sophie (who was in the last crazy dream) to ask the due date then I heard someone calling my name and it was another friend Bianca, by some chairs. She waved me over and everyone I went to uni with was there, plus one girl I went to school with. Everyone looked a bit upset and sniffly as it was our last day at university but I just kept thinking about how my dissertation didn't have a focus and what on earth could I write about.

By the chairs but a little way off was a policeman looking stressed. I started imagining his thought process and decided to write my dissertation like a diary of the policeman's thoughts. Then I realised that's more a story than a factual investigation. I played with a few more ideas but couldn't settle on any.

Then my alarm went off. For the first few seconds, I thought about what I could write for my dissertation. Then I remembered I finished studying last year, there was no dissertation. Phew!

Wierd.

Any ideas, people?

Wednesday 27 March 2013

AND to China and Namibia

Ok, everyone, it's time for Rambler5319 to take over again as it is Wednesday. Get your thinking caps on as last week's challenge is answered....


First off remember how we finished last week:

And finally on a lighter note – can anyone tell me how it is possible to use the word “and” five times consecutively in a sentence? That means you have to write a sentence that will have “and and and and and” in it with no words in between. Answer next week folks – you didn’t think I was going to give it straight away. Have a think and see what you come up with.

And the answer is:

In UK we have a lot of pubs with names like the “Coach & Horses”, “Dog & Partridge” and so on. Sometimes there are companies called, say, “Smith & Jones”. The answer to the puzzle goes something like this. The owner of the pub called the Coach and Horses was having a new sign made to hang outside. When speaking to the sign writer who was going to do the job he said to him, “the old sign was badly done so when you make the new one I want you to make sure you put a proper space between coach and “and” and “and” and horses. I’ve put quote marks round the “and” just so you can see that when it appears like that it is being treated as a noun (i.e. a word on the sign) and when it is without it is being used as a normal conjunction just joining parts of the sentence together. In ordinary usage the quote marks wouldn’t be there and you would have the 5 consecutive ands in the sentence and it still makes sense. It’s all in the way you say it, where you make a slight pause. You read it as “between coach and and (pause) and and and horses.”

Now onto this week’s subject: China. No not the country of China, the material for making cups, saucers and things like a china tea service or dining set. It can also be used to make mugs. I was given a real china mug recently. Now I have plenty of ordinary mugs: they have a fairly thick lip compared to a cup. Cups can of course be just ordinary thickness or they can be china cups in which case much thinner and more delicate to use. They also often seemed to have handles I couldn’t get my finger into to hold even when I was younger. My gran would only ever have a cup of tea in a china cup. Also my Mum used to leave a china cup at my house, along with a tea cosy, so that when she came over I would make tea (of course brewed in a teapot with the cosy on) and hers would be poured into her own china cup. She didn’t like to use a mug or an ordinary cup. They both said the tea tasted different depending on whether you drank out of a china or non-china cup. Of course I thought it was all just psychological and there was no difference at all. That’s how it continued for many, many years until recently – until I made a mug of tea in my new china mug. Because the lip is thinner and the material it’s made of being different I think I too can actually sense a slightly different taste or at least a different experience. Are there any china cup/mug folks out there?

I’m not a coffee drinker but I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk of wanting to drink coffee out of a china cup/mug. Btw, a couple of days ago, I had a pot of tea at a local National Trust Museum place where they made it using those old fashioned things they call tea leaves. I ordered the same type of tea I drink at home and I tell you what – there’s definitely a better flavour from the leaves when compared with tea from a tea bag. Anyone out there a “leaves” person?

Here’s a pic of my new (china) mug.
image

(You will notice my standing in the family has now been recognised – I was overcome with emotion as I realised I have now been recognised as a GENIUS!)

Here’s a pic of my normal mug

image

Those of you who know of the Pink Floyd album Dark Side Of The Moon will recognise the mug decoration. (Worldwide sales of the album up to 2005 are estimated to be around 50 million. In 1998 the Recording Industry Association of America certified it as 15x Platinum meaning 15 million sales in the US.)

Because of their heights and different thickness of the sides the mugs are of different capacities: China mug smaller in height but larger in diameter.

image



I was curious to see what their different volumes would be so I got the ruler out as they’re quite similar but you can see obvious differences:

Ordinary mug (inside measurements) – 8.8cm high/deep, 7.5cm diameter

China mug (inside measurements) 8.2cm high/deep, 9.0cm diameter.

Now do you remember back to your school maths (or math in US) for the formula for the volume: πr2h.

Substituting my figures gives –

ordinary – π x 3.75 x 3.75 x 8.8 = 389cc

china - π x 4.5 x 4.5 x 8.2 = 522cc

where π=3.14

Now I know you wouldn’t fill to the brim but it does mean I have to fill the china one to a lower height or I could be drinking nearly a third more with every mugful!

So what’s special about bone china? Basically it’s to do with how it’s made. It has a very strong construction which is why it can be made thinner than other porcelain. It is called “bone” china because quite simply bones from animals go into the making of it. (This is why some ethical/green folks won’t buy porcelain made like this.) The first attempts at making it were in the late 1740s but it wasn’t until the 1790s that Stoke-on-Trent based Josiah Spode developed what turned out to be the best mix of the various elements required to make it: 6 parts bone ash, 4 parts china stone, 3.5 parts china clay. (Some of you may have heard of Spode china.) That mixture has remained the standard ever since.

Sadly in 2009 the company went into Administration (bankrupt) and was bought by the Portmeirion Group (which owns Portmeirion Village). Head of this group is Susan Clough-Williams who is the daughter of Sir Clough Williams-Ellis who was the architect of the Italian style village called Portmeirion in North Wales. Some of you may remember that the 1967-8 TV series called The Prisoner starring Patrick McGoohan (as Number 6) was filmed on location at Portmeirion.

(A 2009 updated version, starring Sir Ian McKellen & Jim Caviezel, which aired on the American cable channel AMC, was filmed in Swakopmund in Namibia. It’s about an agent who wakes up in a strange place and doesn’t know how he got there or why he is there.

If you didn’t catch it here’s part (10 mins) of the first episode to give you a taster.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LXsb4COaEM

Perhaps, I wonder, has LLM been there or know anything of the place? (He gets to the Village at about 4m 10s so you can see the residence buildings then a bit later the town itself.)

And there you have it: this week a journey from AND to china to the Dark Side of the Moon to Portmeirion to Namibia.

Tuesday 26 March 2013

Showering and shopping

Yesterday, I was having a working-from-home day. There's a lot to be said for staying at home in your jarmies to work. But I also had my instructions from Simon Gear to follow. He had asked two things from me in his book, Going Greener.

Eat fresh fruit in season to avoid the air miles, flying things across the globe so I can eat it all year round.

Shower rather than bath to save on water.

I adapted the first one slightly, given that I was looking for vegetables, not fruit. But the message was the same. Buy as locally as possible to avoid the air miles, one of the most environmentally-damaging things I probably take part in, on a day to day basis.

I decided that, actually, I would shop entirely British for eveything I needed for my planned cottage pie. So I approached the vegetable section. I needed tomatoes, carrots, potatoes and herbs.

Well, I almost gave up on the tomatoes and the herbs! All the tomatoes were from Portugal and Spain. After searching all through the different varieties, I found one variety of vine tomatoes that was grown in Britain. Phew! The cottage pie could make a start.

The herbs were from everywhere but Britain. Jordan, Egypt, Spain, Morocco, Mexico... Nothing. As I wandered off, I saw pots of herbs with little British flags printed on their labels! Hurrah! My cottage pie could have flavour! I got myself some thyme and some chives and suddenly, the world of reducing my air miles and shopping British smelled fabulous!

Next was potatoes and these weren't hard to find. The carrots were also British, not too much trouble there.

I didn't need mushrooms but in my excitement that so many of them were British, I got some anyway.

I learned, at this point, that lots of vegetables are from Israel. The other British ones I saw were chicory and lettuce, neither of which I needed but will keep in mind.

The beef mince was easy enough because the nice stuff in Waitrose happens to be British beef so no compromises needed there.

Getting cereal bars was fine because I know Jordans is a British company but a surprising amount were from America.

I wanted to pick up some tupperware to keep left over cottage pie in (another instruction from Simon Gear is to freeze down individual portions for emergencies then you never end up eating rubbish takeaway or bowls of icecream for dinner) but the tupperware was made in Vietnam so that was out.

I must say, it was a bit of a faff checking the small print on everything I bought but I felt sooo much better leaving the shop and knowing I'd made the effort to reduce my personal environmental impact. I also didn't wrap my vegetables in plastic and I brought my own bags to pack my shopping in.

And now for the second challenge. This one, I knew, would be more of a mental hurdle than anything else, due to the simple fact that when it is cold and wintery, I like to have a hot bath and listen to an audiobook and pretend I am a lady of leisure.

As Simon rightly points out in his book however, when taking a bath, you use more than twice the water of a shower and, disgustingly, all the dirt that was on your feet ends up in your hair, and vice versa. Now I know this, of course I know it. But I like to pretend I don't, due to the lady of leisure thing already mentioned.

Yesterday, despite the current cold snap and flurries of snow, I resolved to stop being a water-hog (one who hogs water, not a pig who lives in a river) and get a shower instead.

I put the plug in, to test the theory about how much less water it uses, turned it on hot and danced around a bit to some music to stay warm. After a few minutes, I could stop dancing and just enjoy it because it was quite nice actually. The cold from outside was like a test of strength. If I was tough enough to handle the cold, I could do anything!

At the end of my shower, which took 5 minutes instead of the requisite 30 for my lounging around bath sessions, the water was only just approaching my ankles. It was barely a tenth of what I use for a bath. I felt great, tinged with guilt for all the other times when I had bathed instead of showering.

And that was that! Two more boxes ticked on my quest to become more useful!

Monday 25 March 2013

Careers advice

When I was in my late teens and still at secondary school, there was a lot of talk about forward planning for a possible career. We had talks from people who gave us advice about this or that, there was a careers advisor on hand most days near the sixth form common room and we had various computer programme things that asked you questions and suggested possible careers that might match your likes or dislikes.

I didn't know for definite what I wanted to do. I had played with different careers in my mind - popstardom beckoned at one point, the literary life at another, not to mention my brush with TV presenting fame.

I hadn't settled on one for definite because my main thoughts, in my last year at school, were on the gap year I had planned. So I just kind of let these career talks go in one ear and out the other. I had my place at university sorted, I was off to study theatre and English literature when I got back from Africa, although I didn't really know what I could do with it as a career. I just liked them!

One day though, I must have been wondering what career the computer might suggest if I took the questionnaire. I secretly love stuff like that as it often comes up with something hilariously off-kilter. In a free moment between classes, I decided to take the careers questionnaire.

It took a long time. Long, long, long. And it went on and on and on about things that were so similar to one another that I thought that surely I must have answered it already.

"You enjoy working in a group."
Agree

"You enjoy working with other people."
Agree strongly

"You get on well with other people."
Agree

"You like to lead a group."
Neither agree or disagree

"You like to be in charge."
Agree slightly

"You are good at taking control."
Agree slightly

"You like to fix things."
Disagree slightly

"You like to take things apart and figure them out."
Disagree

"You work best alone."
Neither agree or disagree.

And so it went on. Click, click, click went the mouse, on varying degrees of agreeing or disagreeing with certain statements. Until finally, five billion questions later, I got a little egg timer on the screen while it came up with my results.

I waited in anticipation, thinking about all the things it might suggest for the career I was best matched to. Based on the questions I had been asked, I thought it might come up with things like 'Team leader on expedition of huge world importance similar to that of Shackleton," or "Queen's best friend," (is that a job title?) or "World famous travelling sensation."

Think, think, think, went the egg timer and then, finally, up popped my results!

I've long since forgotten what my number 1 most suitable career came up as because right there, sitting in the number 2 spot, was the word 'Embalmer.'

You're thinking, no, surely not? Is that what I think it is? Well yes, it is what you think it is. The person who embalms dead bodies and gets them ready for burial.

At number 2! That high up! Did I fall asleep during part of the questionnaire and accidentally click 'agree' on the statement "You like working with the recently departed"?!

Laura Maisey, Future Embalmer.

Sunday 24 March 2013

Technology 1-0 Man

We got a new TV. Actually, it's not a new TV. It's just a new programme thing. You know, where you can pause programmes or record them or get a whole series that's been on before. Am I making sense here?

I had been sceptical about getting it because I thought that if we recorded everything we wanted to watch and kept it til later. We'd never move from in front of the TV. When there are no good programmes on, we just get out a book and read. Which is ok by me. So I wasn't too keen.

But then Danda got a Kindle Fire for Christmas and the silly thing only has WiFi connection, not wireless. So to watch films, he needs to be connected to WiFi, which is usually when he's in someone's house and then why would you watch the Kindle instead of the full size TV?

One of the internet companies has a system where, if you have your internet with them at home, you can access these 'hotspots' with your internet code and use their WiFi when you're out and about. Perfect! It just so happened that this company also do the On Demand TV thing I was talking about. So we took the plunge and decided to get it.

We got it installed a few days ago and a shortly after, Yaya and his little sister arrived for dinner and fun. Immediately they sensed the change and requested the childrens' TV channels. So on when Mr Tumble and they were happy for ten minutes.

image



All seemed well. We found programmes we wanted to watch and so avoided the 8pm dip when nothing good is on and you end up watching nonsense. Danda had started to watch Spiral, a French police programme.

Last night, he decided to watch it again. When he got to episode number five, he clicked on it but the play button didn't appear. He tried turning the TV off then on but it wouldn't show the play button on the screen. We tried this and that and off and on and using a different channel and everything. He clicked and pressed and switched. Nothing worked.

He got more and more confused and annoyed. This went on for about half an hour until he decided to go to the 'search' feature and look it up. It appeared but still didn't have the play option. We thought maybe if he cleared out the search then did it again, it might make something work. So he requested 'clear search results' and got rid of it.... And then we couldn't find it again anywhere. He had deleted it off the whole TV! Incredulous, we looked around everywhere, sure that it must be somewhere. It wasn't.

After 45 minutes of button clicking and brain effort, we malfunctioned, like robots with too much information on their memory cards, and headed for bed.

Technology 1-0 Man

Saturday 23 March 2013

A little catch up

Do not fear, readers, I have not forgotten about my Trying To Be Useful project. It's just that sometimes the things I am instructed to do are not enough to carry a whole post. So after I was asked in one book to go and de-litter my local park, my other book instructed me to pick up one peice of litter every day so I have been doing that for the past week. I then deposit the litter into a recycling bin, if it is recyclable.

Simon Gear, in Going Greener, also told me to "Support my bald-headed hungry friend" and to be generous when people I know are doing crazy stuff to raise money for a worthy cause. As luck would have it, my friend, Peter, is running the London Marathon in April for the Stroke Association. Easy peasy. I logged on, donated some money and had another day's good deeds done.

Other things I have been advised to do are more long term goals as they require more money and a trip to get them. I'm aiming to get either an owl box or a bat box for the garden, or both. I'm pretty sure I can get them in the Kew Gardens gift shop and I've been meaning to join the National Trust for ages, cause I love the idea of being able to swan into lovely places by just showing a card, like I live there, almost, kind of. So when the weather is nice enough, I will join the National Trust, spend my days off in lovely parks and buy a good owl or bat box, or both.

An instruction I received on another day was to take 5 minutes at the beginning of each day to drink my morning tea in the garden and appreciate the plants and animals there. I did it two days in a row. It was chilly but I donned a big jumper, hugged my mug of tea and admired the lavender lining the lawn. This morning, however, it is snowing. We haven't got it very badly, compared to other places, but I still didn't fancy standing in it shivering. So I stood in the kitchen and looked out of the window at the garden.

So all in all, it's going quite well. I'm still taking my own shopping bags with me to get groceries. I don't put my vegetables in plastic bags before I weigh them. I buy Ecover products. I'm getting there, little by little.

I had a total brainwave the other day and was like. "Danda! Let's get a chicken! It would be so amazing. We'd have eggs whenever we want them!"

A withering look from Danda answered that one. I'm still working on it....

P.S. Happy birthday Dad!

Friday 22 March 2013

Things I learned at Waltham Place

1. Chickens lay eggs when it's sunny. They're like solar panels. They only work with sunshine. In the winter, they don't lay because there is no sun. They are designed to have a break for a few months of the year. Battery farmed chickens are kept indoors with the lights on so that they will lay all year round. That is why they die sooner. They are not being given a break while it is winter. That's also why the yolks in battery farmed eggs are all pale and yellowy, cause the chickens are quite weak and their diet isn't very natural. The farmers give them commercially produced feed so their eggs are not as good quality.

2. During the time when it is sunny, chickens lay eggs all the time, regardless of the presence of a male to fertilise. That is the difference between just eggs and potential baby chickens. When there's a potential baby chicken in an egg, after being laid, the chicken has to 'go broody' and sit on it for 24 days, turning it every day. If the chicken lays the egg but then potters off outside and leaves the egg, it will not become a chicken. At Waltham Place, these are the eggs they then take for cooking with. This eases any guilt I may have felt about eating scrambled baby chickens on toast for breakfast.

3. Buttermilk is not the liquid that gets squeezed out of the butter once you have finished churning it. As a butter-maker myself, I had it on good authority that this was buttermilk and so used it in recipes which asked me for it. Who looks stupid now, hey?

4. My Living Responsibly project looks so feeble in comparison to the self-sufficiency at Waltham Place. The air miles on the food I usually buy are ridiculous! I shall make an effort, at least a couple of times after April when the farm shop opens, to go over there and buy things. That way I know the food miles are minuscule, compared with my fruit and vegetables flown in from different continents. I will also make an effort to look on the packets and buy as locally as possible.

5. I want a chicken in my garden.

6. A cow would be good too, for the milk. Milk from the shop will feel like a poor compromise now.

7. Cows from different regions have different personalities! It's true. The Jersey cows which are new to Waltham Place are apparently a lot more 'protective' of their young than the local ones.

image

Thursday 21 March 2013

A day at Waltham Place (or: I want to live on a farm too!)

Yesterday, I had the most fabulous day out. Someone had got me an early birthday present, which was a place on a course about preserving fruit. The course was on a farm called Waltham Place just outside Maidenhead.

The journey there was quite eventful, after coming out of the station, seeing a bus already at the bus stop, leaping on and being what I can only describe as 'adopted' by two ladies on the bus. After I had asked if the bus went in the direction I needed, the ladies said it didn't but I could get off near an airfield and take a short walk to get to the farm. I got out my purse to pay and the driver reminded me I needed the exact money. After scraping around among my change, the ladies almost got into a fight offering me the 20p that I was short of!

The journey to the farm then was smooth, after another man getting off at the same stop, pointed me down the right road. As I approached the main entrance, there didn't seem to be any signs of where I should be...

image



I was once again thrust on the mercy of the locals as I helplessly ran after a man I saw in the distance and asked where the course was being held. He pointed me up the road to the Ormandy Centre which, of course, I now remembered reading about in my notes before coming.

I found the centre eventually and was greeted by Adrian, the chef, and Nicki, his 'gopher' (her own words) and three of the other women on the course, for of course it was all women! The other women arrived and we started the day with chitchat, tea and biscuits.

Everything they gave us was made (and often grown too) on the farm. Adrian does all the cooking there. And that means everything. Absolutely everything. No help. He's surprisingly calm and good-natured for a man who's responsible for the feeding of a family and entire staff of such a big estate.

So our teas and coffees contained milk from the cows in the next door fields and the only non-farm ingredient in our macaroons and Viennese whirls was the sugar. The flour is milled on the farm, the milk from the cows is turned into cream, butter and cheese, and the eggs are harvested daily from the chickens who live in the next field to the cows. It was like taking a trip into the past, all the things we were offered to eat were homemade with produce from the surrounding fields. I started planning what my own small garden might be capable of and, so long as I don't mind living on tomatoes, chillis and herbs, I could totally do this self-sufficient thing too. Maybe.

After tea and biscuits, we got stuck into a bit of teaching. Adrian gave us notes and talked us through the process of jam-making, the essential components and what does and doesn't work. It wasn't quite as ordered as that though. There were regular delightful tangents off into the obscure - long discussions about what goes into commercially produced jam, whether to keep one's jam in the fridge, what fruits work and how long to keep jam for (a jar of Adrian's, made in 1996, is still going strong today).

We were then given aprons and invited into the kitchen. We approached cautiously and told that this morning, the jam tasks were: raspberry jam, three fruit marmalade, lemon curd and blackcurrant jam.

image



The other women piped up, excited about one of the other of the jams. They were paired up and given lemon curd, marmalade and raspberry jam. Finally there was just me and the blackcurrant, which Adrian said he'd help me with.

I was presented with a pot of blackcurrants which I went off to a corner with and put on a hob to heat.

image



I heated my blackcurrants for quite a long time as they needed to reduce down by quite a lot before I could add the sugar. While the others were lemon zesting, butter melting or draining their fruit out....

image



... I stood next to my blackcurrant pan and watched. I started to feel like the slow kid at the back of the class, still trying to work out times tables while the others progressed onto long division....

image



It boiled for quite a while before Adrian gave me the ok to add the sugar and mash the blackcurrants a little bit. By the time I was pouring out my jam, even the slower lemon curd lot were long finished and on their second round of tea and biscuits. They do say, though, that good things come to those who wait, and my pot of blackcurrants yielded the most jars. Check out my harvest!

image



We then stopped and had lunch, made by Adrian, of course. It was leek and potato soup and bread, fresh from the oven, spread with tasty yellow butter from the farm.

image



After a long chat about recycling with the other ladies and me digging in to the bread, again and again, Nicki finally cleared away lunch, thank goodness, and Adrian talked us through different ways to preserve fruit.

So the afternoon tasks were ketchup, tomato chutney and bottled fruit. I ended up on the bottled fruit but had someone with me this time. We chopped and peeled the fruit and packed it into the jars to wait for our syrup, which was just a basic mixture of sugar and water. This we poured over the plums and rhubarbs. For the pears, though, we did white wine, sugar and cinnamon. Once all the fruit and syrups were in the jars, we put the lids on loosely and baked them on a very low heat for an hour.

image



In this hour, we all donned wellies and coats for a walk around the farm. We saw the chickens who provide the eggs...

image



...the cows who's milk was in our tea....

image



...and the gardens which are beautiful and colourful in summer...

image



By the time we got back to the kitchen, our fruit was ready, the chutney was thick enough to go in jars and our day's work was put on the table for admiring.

image



By this time, there was nothing else to do but to have another round of tea, accompanied by two gorgeous homemade cakes (a tea brack and a Victoria sponge)....

image



....and to chatter about what a brilliant day it had been and what other courses were they running and could we come on all of them please and how I wish I could become a lady of leisure and just spend all day homemaking everything I wanted to way and not have any processed food in the house and o, if only! If only! Get thee behind me, Heinz, for I shall consume only homemade ketchup from this day forth!... Maybe... If I get the time to make some tomorrow after work... If I'm not busy practising piano and trying to become a world famous concert pianist.

A lovely Irish lady who was rushing off a little early to pick up her son from school had heard the story of my arrival and offered me a lift to the station. So all if sudden, in a bit of a rush, I was accepting her kind offer, grabbing my bag and running off. The journey home was fuss free and Danda looked very pleased when I arrived home with my crop from the day....

image



We then spend an evening, nibbling some of each, especially the beautiful beautiful lemon curd, which is thick and spreadable and divine on bread.

image



I honestly can't think of anything about this day that I didn't enjoy. If you are anywhere near Waltham Place Farm, I can fully recommend their day courses, for the experience itself, even if you're not actually going to become the best jam maker the world has ever seen!

Wednesday 20 March 2013

10 words (Part 2)

Ok, it's Wednesday and I'm handing over to Rambler5319 while I swan off to a fruit-preserving course on a farm in the countryside! I shall report back.

It’s not really a second part; it’s more just another 10. These are all different to the first lot (19.12.12) but they’re still all from my words book which I write in when I don’t know what a word means. One reader (Camparigirl) of the first 10 wanted me to do another one in this vein so here it is. I think these are a touch more obscure so will be interested to see how many you know.

1. CHTHONIAN – (From page 72 in Feb 2013 edition of a magazine called The Oldie)

It means: Relating to the earth or the Underworld and the deities inhabiting it. Also ghostly.

And here’s how it’s used (speaking of the beginning of building work on a site for a house to be built in Thailand for an expat who’d moved there):

“At first they seemed intent on discovering a lost civilisation, some elusive chthonian beings or a short-cut to Australia.”

I’m sure you’re wondering how a word like that came about. Why would you begin a word with “chth” when its pronounciation is “thonian” according to the dictionary? (There are only 2 word begininning with “chth” in the English language.) Well it’s its Greek origin which is to blame: the root is Greek word khthonios. So now you know.

I challenge you to work that word into a conversation over the next week!!

2. SISYPHEAN – (This is from page 6 in a book called Hymns To The Silence by Peter Mills. He is speaking about Van Morrison’s cover of the Leadbelly track, John Henry).

It means: Relating to Sisyphus, King of Corinth, condemned to roll a huge stone up a hill which then fell down every time he got near the top. Life can seem a bit like that can’t it?

And here’s how it’s used:

“There is something both radical and rooted in these songs for Morrison, which allowed him to both shake off his torpor and also force a way forward – just listen to the Sisyphean shriek at the climax of John Henry.”

3. ANAGLYPTOGRAPHY – (This is from the book Blindness: A Novel by Jose Saramago. It’s a great story about what happens in the world when lots of people suddenly go blind; literally one minute they can see and the next they can’t. An example is when a driver pulls up at a red light and before it goes green he loses his sight and just gets out of the car and walks away. For me it was one of those can’t put down books and I raced through it. Give it a try if you don’t mind some difficult scenes on what happens to human nature when there are no controls on its behaviour. I can’t give you page details as I read this one on my Kindle). And how about taking a quick moment to think about how you would handle that situation; red light you can see but no green light because your eyes stopped working. What is the first thing you would try and do? Just think about it. Do you try and call someone but you can’t see your mobile screen? Do you shout out of the window “Help”? What happens if everyone is in the same position? Not something you can (or would) even plan for, is it?

Anyway the word means: The art of copying works in relief or of engraving to give the subject a raised or embossed appearance.

And here’s how it’s used:

“..it was only after some minutes that the doctor began to hear the unmistakeable sound of punching paper which he immediately identified. There nearby was someone writing in the Braille alphabet, also known as anaglyptography. The sound could be heard, at once quiet and clear, of the pointer as it punched the thick paper and hit the metallic plate.”

4. DENDROCHRONOLOGY– (This is from p.2 of The Keys To Avalon by Steve Blake & Scott Lloyd. This is a well researched book which basically shows that the traditional interpretation of where the famous, some say mythical, 5th/6th century King Arthur reigned, lived & fought battles is mistaken. It shows convincingly why we should re-assess the locations which have been used for many years as there is actually no supporting evidence for them. By going back to the original Welsh source documents used by the earliest writers on King Arthur these guys demonstrate where his actual kingdom is more likely to have been located.)

It means: The fixing of dates in the past by comparative study of the annual growth rings in timber and ancient trees.

And here’s how it’s used:

“Winchester boasts a prestigious ‘Arthurian’ relic in its oak Round Table. However scientific techniques such as dendrochronology, radiocarbon dating and examination of its construction suggest that in fact the table dates from no earlier than the reign of Edward III.” (reigned 1327-77)

Just out of interest Avalon finds its way into a number of songs though not particularly about King Arthur: there are ones by Roxy Music, Natalie Cole & others. There is of course the Van Morrison song Avalon of the Heart (Track 4 on his album Enlightenment) which does have Arthurian allusions.

5. AGITPROP – (This is from p.156 in a book called On The Map by Simon Garfield. He also wrote the very interesting book Just My Type about fonts which I’ve also read. Anyway the map book is very well done and lots of illustrations; it’s chunky at 450 pages but a great read.)

It means: Agitation and political propanganda especially of a pro-communist nature.

And here’s how it’s used:

“The maps help to turn agitprop into witty graphic art with spreads entitled, ‘This Little Piggy’ (to denote workers who toil unproductively) and ‘Dirt’s Cheap’ (to denote polluted air).”

6. FOMITES – (This is from p.224 in a book called On The Map by Simon Garfield.)

It means: Any inanimate object/substance capable of carrying infectious organisms (germs or parasites) and hence of transferring them between people.

And here’s how it’s used:

“Snow’s study of the disease, in his 1849 pamphlet On The Mode of Communication of Cholera dismissed the idea that there was just something in the air. He suggested cholera was caused either by the human consumption of contaminated food or water, or by fomites, which usually meant infested bed clothes or linen.”

7. VORONOI DIAGRAM – (This is from p.228 in a book called On The Map by Simon Garfield.)

It means: A way of dividing up a space into regions each with a seed point such that all points within that region are closer to that seed than any other.

Here’s a picture to give you the idea:

image

You can see where the dot is placed in each section. Any point you pick in a coloured section will be nearer to the dot in that section than any other dot in any other section. The sentence I’m quoting is about a doctor -Dr John Snow - who investigated the cholera outbreak in London in 1854; two previous outbreaks in 1831 & 1848 had killed tens of thousands. The dots in his case were the water pumps that people had to go to get their fresh water.

And here’s how it’s used:

“Next he placed a meandering dotted line over the area where the Broad Street pump would be closer for residents to visit than any other pump; this is now known as a Voronoi Diagram, and Snow’s version is the most famous early example.”

8. UXORIOUS – (this is from p.125 in a book called The Elizabethans by A.N. Wilson.)

It means: Excessively or submissively fond of a wife

And here’s how it’s used:

“Many a husband must have echoed Otter in Ben Johnson’s Epicoene: ‘Wife! There’s no such thing in nature. I confess, gentlemen I have a cook, a laundress, a house-drudge, that serves my necessary turns and goes under that title; but he’s an ass that would be so uxorious to tie his affections to one circle.’”

9. PROLEGOMENA – (this is from the Virginia Woolf book, To The Lighthouse. Read on Kindle so again no page ref.)

It means: An introductory study. An introduction especially to a treatise

And here’s how it’s used:

“They knew what he liked best – to be for ever walking up and down, up and down, with Mr Ramsay, and saying who had won this, who had won that, who was a “first rate man” at Latin verses, who was “brilliant but I think fundamentally unsound,” who was undoubtedly the “ablest fellow in Balliol,” who had buried his light temporarily at Bristol or Bedford, but was bound to be heard of later when his Prolegomena, of which Mr Tansley had the first pages in proof with him if Mr Ramsay would like to see them, to some branch of mathematics or philosophy saw the light of day.”

And yes, in case you didn’t notice it really is ONE continuous sentence!

10.ARMIGEROUS – (This is from p.137 in a book called The Elizabethans by A.N. Wilson.)

It means: Bearing or entitled to bear arms (as in coat of arms). If you belonged to the armigerous part of the population you could call yourself ‘Esquire’.

And here’s how it’s used:

The heralds at the College of Arms were always occupied in the Elizabethan age. In Lincolnshire between 1562 & 1634 seventy-eight new names were added to the armigerous gentry.”

You might remember that on my visit to London (on 6.3.13) I visited the College of Arms and explained some of the rules about using or being allowed to use a coat of arms.

So there you go, another 10 of the 800+ words in my book.

Why not let me know if you already knew any of these or, more challengingly, if you manage to use any of them over the next week or so?

And finally on a lighter note – can anyone tell me how it is possible to use the word “and” five times consecutively in a sentence. That means you have to write a sentence that will have “and and and and and” in it with no words in between. Answer next week folks – you didn’t think I was going to give it straight away. Have a think and see what you come up with.

Tuesday 19 March 2013

Some of my friends have blogs too

Yes, my real life friends. Friends I knew outside of my blogging life. They have now started blogging and entered my blogging world. Which is a bit nerve wracking as I'm trying to remember if I've ever written about them....! Anyway, they are lovely people with lovely blogs. Check them out...

Ex-colleague and fellow cake-lover, Abbi, at blogthehousedown.com:

"I've been counting the calories and even hired a personal trainer. Yesterday was my first session with her.
'Ah this will be easy,' I thought, "I'm not in that bad shape."
Well, I was wrong. Today I woke up and muscles hurt that I didn't even know existed!...
After hobbling around the bedroom for most of the morning I decided to do something productive that required minimal moving, and so I decided to try out a recipe I found for courgette muffins...
So off I hobbled to the kitchen to embark on my healthy bake...I grated courgette, I measured the skimmed milk, mixed everything together and the little things came out looking pretty good..."

Beware, though, the tasty looking courgette muffins. Pop over to her blog to find out what happens when she tastes these babies!

Next is a friend I've known for years through a legal charity we've both been involved with at different points. This blog is brand new and full of all the things I spend time thinking about too.

"More 20somethings need to talk about the fact that this can be a terrible decade, discuss why, and throw out some life rafts of useful hope so that we may all survive until our 30s come to the rescue.

The article above – while acknowledging some of the problems of being in your twenties – is a classic example of The Great 20s Myth. This is the myth that your 20s are the best years of your life. Never, we are told, will you be more beautiful, thinner, look better, have more of a wonderful time, have more sex, have more great sex, and meet more wonderful people.

Waldman’s piece is, of course, just one of many things floating around about being in your twenties at the moment. You needn’t read all of the article, just look at the photograph and you’ll see what I’m talking about. It is the doorway to the deception that your 20s are one long sun-drenched, hazy day full of sexy and formative ‘fun’. A group of beautiful, tanned, bambi-limbed friends jumping in the air fuelled, presumably, just by the sheer joy of being alive. They are having the time of their life – of course they are! They’re in their twenties!

No."

Another blog I enjoy reading is that of two friends that I worked with once upon a time. After we no longer worked together, we remained friends and they recently jetted off for a life under the Colombian sun. Not before a trek across Spain though, stories from which are to be found on the blog. This extract is from a wonderful post about a visit to Anthony's uncle:

"We walked on further, trudging through the mud. Up in the mountains of San Juan de Rioseca it rains a lot.

'Look over there,' he said. 'That's the Rio Magdalena.' The sun caught it at a bend, sending a brilliant flare of light from Colombia's mighty river to my iris.

We continued walking through the cloud forest, flanked by jungle, toward my uncle Julio's farm. On the way we passed a tiny, tidy construction site and met Viktor. He was wearing a broad-brimmed hat, wellington boots and a shirt and jeans dirty from the jungle path. A machete hung from his waist. He greeted us with a broad smile. After explaining the plan of the house he walked with us futher into the jungle.

Eventually we arrived at a small house, built by my uncle Gildo and members of the local community 15 years ago. It was there that we met Julio, my unbelievably fit and healthy seventy-nine-year-old uncle, his wife Rosa and perhaps the happiest person I have ever met: my cousin Feniz, who is married to Viktor."

Next up is an old uni friend, the one we used to call Mum because she took care of us. Her blog is typically her - fashion-conscious and ready to offer food! Check out this snippet from one of her recent posts (I shall need to sort my legs out soon...):

"Now onto some fashion. I am glad that Spring is on it’s way (so they say). With it’s arrival will come some pretty colours and fabrics and less of these harsh, masculine lines we always tend to lean towards in winter.

Ladies! Be proud, be feminine and embrace the fact that the sun is coming out. Only problem is, we will have to up our game with regards to defuzzing our legs…winter hair can be excused, spring hair can NOT! Haha

Enjoy wearing the pastels and bright colours, experiment with layering different fabrics and textures, find a feminine look that suits your personality, I do believe that this look is not just for the “girly girl”."

Next up, a friend with whom I share a love of honey, funny how little things can get you chatting. He has flown to greener pastures now (East London) but writes fabulously and I can fully recommend his blog. Check it out:

"The first wave of the spring’s sun had come and gone, transforming the landscape into a bleak and seemingly barren prospect as it left. The pull of the river was strong and I was faced with a choice of another day stuck inside grey walls freezing or be under grey skies freezing. A stiff cup of freshly brewed coffee gave me the push I needed. Thirty minutes later I was standing, rather being blown about, outside the Royal Festival Hall. Rain was tickling my face, annoyingly. My mood was being coaxed into better spirits by the wind. The mood was doing it’s best to ignore it. I made my way along the Thames path towards the gate that leads to the steps to the beach by Waterloo Bridge."

Lastly, a friend who has recently returned to his home country, Ghana. He's Ghanaian. And he's Lebanese. And he's been living in the UK since forever. But... Wait a minute... He's.... No...

His blog is partly about this identity crisis. Here's a taster:

"My family decided to take a trip to spend quality time together. We picked a little eco resort close to the Ivory Coast boarder of Ghana next to a town called Axim; I joined them a day after they left by taking a 20 minute internal flight to Takoradi where I was picked up by my brothers.

Upon arrival, I made the short 5 meter walk from the plane to pick up my bag and exit the airport. I flashed my ID to the immigration officer and he waved me through. ”Wait. Stop!” Someone yelled from the back of the office. Here we go.

“Where are you from?”. It took a while for me to realise, amongst all the eyes staring at me, who was speaking to me. It was the head of immigration. “Ghana”, I responded irritatingly. My usual spiel was useless. Everything I said to him was thrown back at me. I am not black and he has never heard of a Ghanaian person with the surname “Mouganie”."

Monday 18 March 2013

The Great Chatsby

A conversation Danda and I had while waiting for a train the other day:

Danda: Laura, have you ever thought about how if that novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald was about a load of overweight people, it would be called The Great Fatsby?!

Laura: O yeh! And if it was about some people playing cricket, it would be called The Great Batsby.

Danda: Oo oo! If it was about taxi drivers, it would be called The Great Cabsby.

Laura: Or about people who wouldn't stop talking, it would be called The Great Blabsby.

Danda: Or if it was badly written, it would have been called The Great Crapsby.

Laura: Or! Or if it was about that time there was a load of vermin there, The Great Ratsby!

Danda: Or if it was about all the different things they wore on their heads.... The Great Hatsby.

Laura: Or that bit in the book where he gets run over by a steam roller? The Great Flatsby.

Danda: Or when they went to the Tropics and got bitten... The Great Gnatsby.

Laura: Or when he bought a load of stuff at that car boot sale? The Great Tatsby.

Danda: Or that chapter where he put on a load of weight? the Great Gutsby.

Laura: Or when he had to have liposuction? The Great Flabsby.

Danda: Is this... Are we still doing this? Really? It's been ages now. I feel like we might never stop.

Laura: Shh! Shh, I have another one. Ok. Here's a good one. What about when he went on a plumbing course? The Great Tapsby!

Danda: Um. Ok. We're still going.

Laura: Or that episode where Time Team came round to his house? The Great Digsby.

Danda: That was quite weak. We should stop now. They're getting silly.

Laura: Ok, listen though. Remember when they did it about the working classes? The Great Plebsby.

Danda: This has to stop now....

Laura: What about when the pets took over....?

Danda: Please.....

Laura: The Great.....!

Danda: Enough.

Laura: Catsby!

*Long pause*

Laura: Yeh, ok.......... *whispers* What about that time when he got locked out? The Great Latchkey.

Danda: *disdainfully* That was the worst yet. It doesn't even sound like Gatsby.

Sunday 17 March 2013

A lovely day out

Yesterday, I took a cheeky jaunt up north to spend the day with family. The weather held up ok and didn't rain until much later in the day, when we were safely hidden indoors, sipping cups of tea.

Mid-morning, we set out for a mini adventure to Frodsham Hill. Despite taking a wrong turn early on and coming out at the top in a different place than we expected to, it was lovely all the same and the sun shone bright, although it was cold.

image



Midway up, I realised that I was really panting with all the stair climbing! Hard to believe I once trekked the Great Wall of China... True story.

image



When we got to the top there was a lovely wide view of the surrounding area. With large flat areas, it's hard to make it look good on a photo but anyway, here's the view.

image



Soon after this, we reached the WW1 memorial....

image



...which is next door to a lovely hotel, positioned on the top of the hill so that, if you get a seat by the window, you can have lunch with the beautiful view. We had planned to have lunch there yesterday but they have a no-lunches-at-the-weekend rule so we wandered back down the hill via the roads and found a nice little country pub serving food (I was upset by their lack of apostrophes though).

image



After waiting quite a while for the food to arrive, I got the breaded duck's egg with pancetta...

image



....and the Thai crab cakes with lime

image



After this, we headed back to the car, again making a slight directional error which took us off down a different road and we came out quite far from where we needed to be but it was nice to be outside walking so we didn't mind.

Also, we found a place called Castle Park, a National Lottery funded thing which had, amongst other things, a children's art centre. We found some of this new 'graffiti' knitting stuff too. Has anyone else heard of this?

image



People knit colourful strips then put them around things, like here on a post or maybe a bollard, to brighten the place up! It officially counts as graffiti but as it's quite pretty, the police are 'overlooking' it for now. I kind of want to get into this!

After all this, we drove back, put the kettle on and settled in for an evening of Grand Designs Australia, which was actually quite interesting, before I jumped on the train to London.

Saturday 16 March 2013

Wimbledon Common and I

One of my first encounters with Wimbledon was when I was asked to go and work there. I worked for a coffee company which had kiosks in train stations all over the country so I would often get sent somewhere else for a day. I had been to a bar in Wimbledon before, years ago, with a friend, but I knew I wouldn't still recognise anything.

I cycled there because I had recently decided I was going to exercise more and had purchased one of those little fold up bikes. I lived ten minutes away from Wimbledon Common and knew that all I had to do was get onto it from my end, cycle across it, emerge on the Wimbledon side and find the train station. Simple, right?

This is what actually happened. I got onto the Common and started cycling. I realised that my little fold up bike with its mini wheels was ill-equipped for stones and grass. I was thrown about all over the place, which I blame for loss of concentration. It was summer too so when I cycled through a patch of low hanging trees, there was all this nature-stuff all over the place and sticking to me, petals and bits of leaf and spiderwebs.

I had allowed an hour to make the journey and by the time I was forty minutes in and still on the Common, I started to worry. I just couldn't find my way to the edge! I'd follow one certain direction in a straight line, figuring I would have to reach the outside soon, then I'd see something in another direction that I was sure must lead to Wimbledon so start off in a different direction. I felt like perhaps I had entered an enchanted land which was huge and inescapable. The Common was like the wardrobe which led into Narnia.

Eventually, after about an hour, by which point I am definitely going to be late to work and am becoming frantic, I emerged from the trees onto a large rugby playing field and a road on the other side of it. The edge of the Common! I had found it. There was a man walking his dog and I bumped over there on my bike and asked him directions to Wimbledon. He indicated back into the trees and said going round by road would take far too long. He gave me directions so I took a deep breath and plunged back in.

And I was lost again. I cycled round helplessly, looking for the tree stump or the split in the path that he had told me about. I couldn't see any of it. I was lost. Again.

Eventually, I saw some flat grass and two people playing golf. I peddled over, panting and panicking and covered in nature. They pointed the route out to me and said I was near.

As I turned to go, one of them, a guy a similar age to me, said, "Wait a minute."

Ah! thought I. This is how it is in the films. A damsel in distress, a young gallant man, rescues her and falls in love with her. His heart strings are pulled by her youthful naivete. He will ask me for my phone number now. Be cool. Be calm.

I turned back to him, expectantly.

"You've got a spider on your top."

I looked down to find that he was right. I did indeed have a spider on my top, just by my shoulder. Acting as though I wasn't even bothered, I brushed it off and hurried away, embarrassed.

I came to a little road and went into it, until a stern lady came out and made it clear that this was a private road and I needed to go that way, the other way, anything to get me out of her road.

After another half an hour or so of cycling and looking and feeling helpless, I eventually emerged and found my way to the station, exhausted and traumatised. Later that night, I finished my shift and decided to confront the Common again, face my fears head on. It took all of ten minutes for me to somehow, do a semi circle and end up coming off the Common a stone's throw away from where I had entered it. I gave up on the Common then.

As a P.S., when I eventually decided to tackle Wimbledon Common again and figured out the route across it, it took fifteen minutes maximum, to get from end to end. On the day mentioned above, it took me two and a half hours.

Friday 15 March 2013

A dream I had last night

I had a strangely long and obscure dream last night. It went like this.

My friends, Sophie and Jay, and I were in Australia. We were travelling and having an adventure type of holiday. I remember us going to a shopping arcade place which had those cloth bag things which are brightly coloured and part of the general attire of people who have recently returned from a gap year. At one end was really expensive stuff so we never went to that end.

Suddenly it was our last day and we had to get our flight home at 2.15pm. It was only a few hours off and I started to panic. Sophie and Jay didn't seem too worried and next minute, we were doing that thing I've seen on TV, where you have suction pads on your hands and feet and you climb up the side of glass buildings. I had the hand bits and was climbing up and when I got to the top, Sophie and Jay were already there somehow.

When I started looking for the suction things to climb back down I couldn't find the feet bits and I started to panic again because I thought we'd miss the flight. I really didn't want to miss it because if we had to buy tickets to get the next flight it would cost at least £70 (!).

Somehow we were back down the side of the building and it was 1.15pm and we rushed back to the hostel where we were staying and asked the people at the desk there if it would be faster to go by train or taxi. They said taxi so I ran to the room to get my backpack. The other two already had theirs with them even though they hadn't gone to get them. Such is the way of dreams ....

When I came back to the reception, Sophie and Jay weren't there. They had gone for lunch somewhere. I panicked. I saw their bags but there was only an hour til the flight. I didn't have time to wait for them! I ran outside, flagged down a passing taxi and jumped in.

I got to the airport with ten minutes to spare, yelling at them to hold the plane. I checked in and started to run to the gate but it was really just one big room with one gate. So I just stood there and one side of the building was glass so I saw a small plane come in and land on a grassy area right next to the building. The other passengers and I marvelled at its smallness. There were only about twelve seats.

We walked out to get onto the plane but suddenly there was a swampy bit we had to cross so we got wet up to our knees. I also realised that in my rush I had forgotten to check my bag in so hoped no-one would notice it.

As I got on and sat down and strapped, Soph and Jay were there too and Jay was pregnant. She had been pregnant the whole time, I think, but I had been unaware of it for some reason. And Sophie was saying to me, "I can't believe you left us," and I was going, "Well, I looked for you all over. If you two were going to be stranded in Australia, there was no point me being stranded there too, just for the sake of it."

They seemed especially annoyed that I had left them with Jay being pregnant.

We were just strapping ourselves in and having this discussion when my alarm beeped and when I opened my eyes, I was genuinely surprised that I wasn't on a plane.

Strange.

Analyse that, psychologists.

Thursday 14 March 2013

Wimbledon Hill and I

Wimbledon Hill has meant many things to me. It has defined my relationship with my bike. And with myself. There are hills that are difficult to get up... But I manage it most of the time. There are hills that only super-fit triathletes would attempt. One of these hills is on the cycle route from London out to Reading. I like to call it The Hill Of Resting because all you can do is get off your bike and rest.

But Wimbledon Hill is different. It is difficult. But not too difficult. If you get into the right thought process, you can just about get up it. If you think you won't do it, then you might as well not try, because you'll give up so quickly. But if you can talk yourself into believing you can do it, you've crossed the first hurdle.

There are a few things which need to happen to get up Wimbledon Hill.

1. You need to believe you will make it.

2. You need the traffic lights at the bottom of the hill to be on green.

3. You need to look down at the road and not look up to check your progress until you go past the second drain and are in sight of the Cath Kidson shop.

4. You need to stand up to approach the hill but sit down after the first drain.

5. You need to keep your speed up.

Once you have worked this out, you can attack the hill every time, because you have a method. But all it takes is the slightest inclination that your legs ache, or you feel lazy today, or you'll never make it... and off you climb, feeling like a let down and convincing yourself that next time you'll do it.

Life is a bit like Wimbledon Hill. Occasionally it is like the Hill Of Resting. Realistically, I will never alleviate world hunger single handedly. It is more than likely that I will end up pushing my bike up the hill, making small efforts here and there where I can but unable to attack the whole thing alone.

But sometimes it is like Wimbledon Hill. It's hard but going for it and having a method could see you through, so long as you don't hop off with a faux injury, saying you'll do it next time.

My efforts to be greener have so far been a little more like a gentle incline, the long slow hill in Richmond Park from Roehampton Gate to Richmond Gate (minus the steep bit at the end, of course). I quite like Richmond Park and a gentle incline is at least heading in the right direction.

But the other day I decided to jump in with both feet and attempt a little Wimbledon Hill. I put my money where my mouth is. I went looking for things I care about, causes and projects that I feel passionately about. While I couldn't be at the abolitionist march in Austin today, I donated some money to the organisation leading it. I also read up about the British Red Cross and, remembering someone in my neighbourhood who needs help, gave them some money too. I bought two books from the Friends of the Earth website. And in town last night, meeting a friend for dinner, I saw some street musicians and emptied my purse into their guitar case.

I may be a little short at the end of this month but I'm going to ride it out. I felt poorer financially but better for it. Lighter. Like I'd emptied my pockets and now I was more relaxed. The money had been given wisely and I was absolved of the responsibility of spending it.

And that was also my Wimbledon Hill, being ok with giving money away again. I used to do it loads when I didn't have much, because I didn't have anything to lose. But then after a while, the bank and the government wanted all that money back. And you have to keep hold of it. Think before you spend. Withhold frivolity. Watch the pennies.

And this past few days, for my one good thing every day, I have given money away in a useful way. And it has been fun. Try it.

Wednesday 13 March 2013

London trip (part 2)

Good morning all. It's time for the second part of last week's brilliant post about walking in London. Enjoy!


Just to recap – last week I did the first part of my walk around some London sights (and sites). I covered the oddly named St. Andrew By-The-Wardrobe Church, The College of Arms, St Magnus the Martyr Church with the London Bridge (1176-1831) sign, John Donne’s bust near St Paul’s Cathedral, the YMCA sign showing its origins and the very unusual Postman’s Park which became the Memorial To Heroic Self Sacrifice celebrating those who gave their lives in saving others.

 

For this second part it’s important to understand something of the history behind the next few pics so I hope you will bear with me. This week we’re starting with a visit to the Smithfield area and the front of St Bartholomew’s Hospital.

The first thing to notice is this sign:

 image

As well as the info about public executions which we’ll come to in a moment notice the bottom 5 lines of the sign. Society must have sunk to a very low level at this point!

 

There’s a memorial to 3 men (3 Johns) who gave their lives, not to save others like the ones in Postman’s Park, but because they refused to change their beliefs. I wonder how many of us would be prepared to die for something we believe in or would we just change our minds to stay alive. What if the government asked us to sign a piece of paper saying we definitely believe in the existence of aliens. Would it bother you? Would you sign? Maybe not? However what if they then said unless they had this piece of paper with your signature on you would not be eligible to apply for any jobs or any benefits if you are out of work. That’s a lot harder now isn’t it? Are you going to sign? What if the next step is that all who sign have to undertake not to speak to any who haven’t signed? Then ultimately what if they say if you don’t sign you no longer have the right to live? Do you sign now? Probably you do because you say it doesn’t really make much difference to your life and that’s probably right. What if though it’s not aliens but a particular belief system be it religious or secular (cult of the leader like in North Korea for instance)? There are a number of countries around the world where Christians are persecuted just because they believe Jesus died on the cross to save people from their sins. For them it’s not just a matter of changing their belief to suit the current government requirements it’s about a daily life lived a different way. This plaque is really about men for whom it was more important to stand for what they believed in rather than simply change to stay alive. Apologies for the picture being slight obscured by the railings in front of it but when I held the camera inside the railings I couldn’t get the whole thing in.

Here’s the picture:

image

The three men are John Rogers, John Bradford, John Philpott. Let’s take a brief look at each.

 

John Rogers (1500-4.2.1555) was born in Birmingham and became a minister and Bible translator producing the second complete Bible translation from the original languages in 1537. He was the first Protestant Martyr (English) to be executed under Mary I. The last reported conversation JR had went something like this when Mr Woodroofe, one of the sheriffs, came to lead him out of Newgate Prison to be executed. He asked if JR was willing to revoke “his abominable doctrine”:

 

John Rogers: "That which I have preached I will seal with my blood."

Woodroofe: "Thou art an heretic."

John Rogers: "That shall be known at the Day of Judgment."

Woodroofe: "I will never pray for thee."

John Rogers: "But I will pray for you.”

 

Remember Woodroofe had come to lead the man to the stake to be burned alive; I guess I know which man’s character speaks of goodness & compassion and which one doesn’t.

 

John Bradford (1510-1.7.1555)

He was born in Manchester and became a law student at the Inner Temple (a professional association for barristers and judges) in London. When he became a Christian he felt called to the ministry and was later ordained by Bishop Nicholas Ridley; he would later share a cell with this man in the Tower of London. He is famous for the saying (when he saw others being led out to their execution): "There, but for the grace of God, goes John Bradford." Many of you will be familiar with the saying in its modern form when people reflect on their situation which could easily have been a lot worse if something which could have happened didn’t. They look at someone for whom it did go badly and they say: "There, but for the grace of God, go I", or just "There, but for the grace of God..” Perhaps you’ve even used the phrase yourself. Well now you know it comes from John Bradford. Before the fire was lit he turned to the man alongside him and said: "Be of good comfort brother; for we shall have a merry supper with the Lord this night!" A very strong faith indeed!

 

John Philpott (1511-18.12.1555)

He was born in Hampshire and the son of a knight. He studied civil law and the Hebrew language. He became archdeacon at Winchester. When Mary came to the throne he was called to account for his beliefs. Amazingly he was interviewed/examined 14 times before the final one which condemned him to death. On the appointed day the sheriffs took him to Smithfield. As they approached the stake the ground was very muddy and they offered to carry him. His reply: "Would you make me a pope? I am content to finish my journey on foot." When he got to the stake, he said, "Shall I disdain to suffer at the stake, when my Redeemer did not refuse to suffer the most vile death upon the cross for me?" He then recited the Psalm 107 & 108. When he had finished his prayers, he was tied to the post, and the fire lit.

 

All three died in 1555. The other years mentioned on the stone plaque must refer to the many anonymous ones who died in the following two years.

Now in the hustle and bustle of the day, with people scurrying about their daily business around me in the street, I stood for a few moments thinking about how seriously these guys took the way they lived their lives and the God they believed in to such a degree that they would simply not change to save their own lives.

 

Just along from this plaque was another one – this time to Sir William Wallace.image

He was born nearly 300 years before the men above were burned at the stake. In 1296 Edward I of England had forced the King of Scotland, John de Balliol, to give up his throne. He then put him in jail and declared himself King of Scotland. In May 1297 Wallace and others began their resistance and a few months later the English army and the Scots met at the Forth River near Stirling. Because of the narrow bridge which the English had to cross, the outnumbered Scots actually massacred the English forces. Wallace and his men then crossed the border and, in Oct 1297, began attacking the counties of Northumberland & Cumberland. Wallace returned to Scotland in Dec 1297 and was proclaimed guardian of the realm ruling in the deposed king’s name. 8 months later in July 1298 Edward I went back to Scotland and defeated the Scots. However it was not until 1304 that the Scots actually accepted (recognised) Edward I as their king. However Wallace refused to go along with this and continued to rebel. He was captured in 1305 and taken to London where, after being condemned as a traitor, he was hanged then disembowelled, beheaded, and quartered.

 

The 2-line Latin inscription at the bottom Dico Tibi Verum, Libertas Optima Rerum: Nunquam Servili Sub Nexu Vivito, Fili translates to: “My Son, Freedom is best, I tell thee true, of all things to be won. Then never live within the Bond of Slavery.” He is reported to have said this at his trial (23 August 1305). Underneath it, the phrase Bas Agus Buaidh means “Death & Victory”.

 

So if England, or the country you live in, was invaded would you be willing to do the same? It’s a tough call isn’t it?

 

(Interesting to note that it was a similar story in Wales where in 1400 Owain Glyndŵr started resistance to the English king Henry IV. However even after being defeated in 1408-9 he was never captured and never betrayed. His fate is unknown but Shakespeare wrote him into Henry IV Part 1.)

image

Literally, on the corner of the front wall of St Bart’s Hospital.

 

And just a few steps away from it is the entrance way access to the church behind:

image

The building was founded by a guy called Prior Rahere in 1123 as the sign said. It is claimed he built it after recovering (allegedly miraculously) from an illness. Once this became known the church used to fill up with sick people every August 24th (St Bartholomew’s Day). Sadly I cannot show you any pics inside the church itself as they were charging for the privilege and after paying an entrance fee I thought it a bit much then to ask for more money to photograph the building! However I can tell you that outside & inside there were piles of film equipment (booms, lighting, mics, cabling etc) and the guy told us they are going to be using the building to film scenes from the next Muppet movie. A man was standing guard over the piles outside to prevent theft. So just remember when you see the next Muppet film you’ll know the church interior shots were taken at St Bartholomew’s (dating back to 1123) in Smithfield, London.

 

Just a few minutes away and we were in the rather oddly named street – Cloth Fair. Obviously it harks back to the days when there was a cloth fair in the area and they just kept the name for the street. We stopped for a quick drink in the pub – The Hand & Shears (dating back to 1532!). In nearby Smith Field back in history tailors and drapers came from all over the country to buy & sell. Because of the risk of people not getting the correct length of cloth the Merchant Tailors would carry a yardstick and anyone found to be selling short measures of cloth were brought to this pub and taken upstairs to a courtroom where they would be tried. If found guilty it was either the stocks or a whipping! (The yardstick was known as early as the tenth century during the reign of King Edgar the Peaceful - a great-grandson of King Alfred - who reigned from 959 to 975.)

As he lived nearby it also became poet John Betjamin’s local.

Note the entrance doors are curved to fit with the rounded corner step stone and cornice above. Also check out the greenery at first floor level. I wonder who gets the job of watering that lot?

image

Here’s an interesting sign in the wall of a building:

image

If you enlarge the pic you may be able to see the inscription round the central coat of arms. It says The Worshipful Company of Founders. Their origins go back to 1365 and it is one of earliest guilds formed to protect the interests of its members and to promote high standards of quality & workmanship in brass & bronze. You might be able to enlarge the centre bit but I was struggling to see the words. I checked their website to get the motto which is very tiny underneath the shield in the coat of arms. It is: “God The Only Founder”.
image

How narrow is this? It’s called Benjamin Street and is just one step and half wide. Shortly after taking this pic a small van drove through and its tyres appeared to be touching the kerbs on both sides.

 

Next stop was this sign outside a building which you would hardly even notice.

image
 

Apart from the name Bounce which you might query the blue plaque above is easy to miss as you walk along the street. The light shining on it does obscure it a bit but it says: “On this very site PING PONG was created and patented by John Jaques III 1901”. Do any of you play table tennis? By 1903 apparently the two branches (ping pong & table tennis) had joined together but there is still a large amount of verbiage on what the differences are doing the rounds today! I won’t bore you with the detail because….well… it’s boring.

 

Next stop was a bar for a drink; but not just any old bar – one where you have to email ahead a booking asking for permission to enter. Yes that’s right an email is required, you can’t just turn up at the door and walk in!! On arrival your details are checked and you are directed to the lifts. Up you go to floor 32. As the door opens someone is ready to take your coat if needed and another person takes you to the bar where you order your drink. Once you’ve got it you can go upstairs to floor 33 which is a viewing floor looking out over the London skyline. Here’s a pic looking down on a street below. The white tops in the long street are bus roofs: they’re white to reflect heat in the summer. Although you can’t see it in this pic the roofs also have large letters and numbers which identify the individual vehicle and the operator of that vehicle. These are used by police and emergency service airborne units

 image

Next one is looking down on a couple of those huge building cranesimage
 

Look at the small park in the centre amongst all those buildings in the next one.

image

Couldn’t resist a sunset pic so here it is:image

And on the way back to the station I was curious about an old odd looking building on the street corner ahead. I wondered what the Dickens it could be? As we came round the front this is what we saw:image
 

Ha ha ha. I did read that they named the shop couple of years after the book came out and not the other way round. It was built using wood from old ships. It survived the Great Fire (1666) & the WW2 bombers in the Blitz.

 

Although the whole walk had been less than 6 miles we’d seen so much. (My legs were convinced it had been about 12 miles!) The weather had been kind to us and we’d had a great day.