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I've just finished reading this as my "going to bed" book. I read non-fiction before going to sleep as I can put it down when I need to - fiction has its own rhythms that sometimes preclude slumber. So I've been reading it in short to medium tranches for the last few weeks. And it is brilliant! Scholarship worn lightly, full of insights, hugely entertaining, it runs from the Myceneans to Julian the Apostate. Hall explains who a lot of people were that I've only vaguely heard of - Plotinus, Plutarch, Origen, and many more, disentangling the Greek successors to Alexander in the Middle East -- and the index is comprehensive. I can look forward to re-reading it in a couple of years' time when I've forgotten all the detail again.
Of alphabetical storms and drainpipes
Feb. 22nd, 2022 07:26 pmOn Wednesday night we had Storm Dudley, which rampaged around the rooftops. On Thursday morning I looked out of my study (the middle bedroom), to see that the drainpipe that leads down from the gutter at the top of the roof had come loose. Around 15 feet or so was swaying merrily in the breeze. The top half of the pipe had ripped away from its moorings and was threatening to come down on some unsuspecting person or piece of property. So in between trying to work, Thursday was spent ringing the insurers and various building firms. The responses were basically: "No", "It would be easier if you got somebody else" and "Not without scaffolding (and I'm busy for the next six weeks)".
On Friday morning in desperation I rang our plumber, who said it wasn't his sort of thing (which I had kind of expected), but had I tried a specialist guttering company, as they would have all the ladders? I didn't know there were such things, but I now perceive that guttering comes under "roofing" and not "builders" at all. Who knew? On the first try I found some roofers who said they were in Girton but could come by in half an hour. Two men with a ladder took down the pipe so it is now safe, and promised to come back next week to fix it back properly. Apparently it had been screwed in without washers, and in the storm the screws had ripped clean through the screw holes.
On Friday afternoon Storm Eunice hit, on Saturday we drove round the M25 to see my mother for a couple of days, during which we stayed in for Storm Franklin. I feel we have now done the storm thing, and would like to have no new letters for a while. M suggested that if it didn't stop soon we would need another alphabet. "How about the Greek one?" I suggested. I expect it will be coming free shortly, after the next few Covid variants.
On Friday morning in desperation I rang our plumber, who said it wasn't his sort of thing (which I had kind of expected), but had I tried a specialist guttering company, as they would have all the ladders? I didn't know there were such things, but I now perceive that guttering comes under "roofing" and not "builders" at all. Who knew? On the first try I found some roofers who said they were in Girton but could come by in half an hour. Two men with a ladder took down the pipe so it is now safe, and promised to come back next week to fix it back properly. Apparently it had been screwed in without washers, and in the storm the screws had ripped clean through the screw holes.
On Friday afternoon Storm Eunice hit, on Saturday we drove round the M25 to see my mother for a couple of days, during which we stayed in for Storm Franklin. I feel we have now done the storm thing, and would like to have no new letters for a while. M suggested that if it didn't stop soon we would need another alphabet. "How about the Greek one?" I suggested. I expect it will be coming free shortly, after the next few Covid variants.
I went to a gig
Nov. 10th, 2021 11:02 amI kind of have a love hate relationship with the Junction. It's a venue 10 minutes' walk from our house, run by a community-based charity, and presents a lot of interesting stuff. It has three stages: J1 with a bar and no seats, where they have live bands: J2 with seats where they do folk gigs, comedy and am-dram, and J3, a larger hall with seats where they do stand-up to larger crowds (and a lot of other things, obvs, but somehow M keeps persuading me to go to comedy shows). My back isn't really up to standing for long periods, so I tend to avoid J1 except when tempted by someone I really like, which I usually end up regretting. Last experience before Covid was Garbage - too loud, too crowded, too many tall people in front of me.
But I stay on their mailing list, and I noticed This is the Kit were playing (last night) and I listened to some of their songs on-line and they seemed interesting and melodic. And I needed an impetus to get my Covid pass organised. The Junction require proof of Covid-free status before they let you in, which is a blessed relief. They also ask people to continue to wear a mask indoors, and maintain a safe distance from other guests at the event where possible. Hmm.
So I booked, and decided not to go to the support act, so was just getting a drink when the band started. And they were great, though I have been trying to describe their sound and it's kind of indescribable. It doesn't have the driving rhythms of rock, or the strong melodies of folk. It does have both rhythm and melodies, but they are subtle and rapidly changing. Sometimes the music sounds ambient, sometimes more like North African or Malian music, sometimes it starts off with a rhythm like rock or pop and then stops so that the singer can do something else, and then resumes with a sort of collage effect. Meanwhile the singer's voice wanders above, around or through the music.
Was it crowded? Well, they claim to be able to hold 850 people in J1, though that might be if the bar area is packed as well. I didn't count the numbers but I would have said there were considerably fewer than that. I found somewhere to stand with a reasonable view of the stage, and although I was behind a couple of tall people (they get everywhere!) I could see quite well between them. I would have said that on average there were 2 or 3 feet spare between me and other people. Masks? About 10% of people were wearing masks, including me.
So, bottom line, would I repeat the experience? Yes, for carefully chosen acts. Definitely not for super-popular ones which would be a lot more crowded. I had a good time, and it's possible that next time I may be able to persuade M to join me.
But I stay on their mailing list, and I noticed This is the Kit were playing (last night) and I listened to some of their songs on-line and they seemed interesting and melodic. And I needed an impetus to get my Covid pass organised. The Junction require proof of Covid-free status before they let you in, which is a blessed relief. They also ask people to continue to wear a mask indoors, and maintain a safe distance from other guests at the event where possible. Hmm.
So I booked, and decided not to go to the support act, so was just getting a drink when the band started. And they were great, though I have been trying to describe their sound and it's kind of indescribable. It doesn't have the driving rhythms of rock, or the strong melodies of folk. It does have both rhythm and melodies, but they are subtle and rapidly changing. Sometimes the music sounds ambient, sometimes more like North African or Malian music, sometimes it starts off with a rhythm like rock or pop and then stops so that the singer can do something else, and then resumes with a sort of collage effect. Meanwhile the singer's voice wanders above, around or through the music.
Was it crowded? Well, they claim to be able to hold 850 people in J1, though that might be if the bar area is packed as well. I didn't count the numbers but I would have said there were considerably fewer than that. I found somewhere to stand with a reasonable view of the stage, and although I was behind a couple of tall people (they get everywhere!) I could see quite well between them. I would have said that on average there were 2 or 3 feet spare between me and other people. Masks? About 10% of people were wearing masks, including me.
So, bottom line, would I repeat the experience? Yes, for carefully chosen acts. Definitely not for super-popular ones which would be a lot more crowded. I had a good time, and it's possible that next time I may be able to persuade M to join me.
Sunny interludes (1)
Jul. 17th, 2021 07:36 amI haven’t posted for a while, mainly due to being too busy. However, last weekend we went to visit my mother. We have been going to visit her once a month throughout the restrictions and will probably continue now that things are starting to open up. She is 89, and although double-vaccinated, very cautious about going out and meeting people. As indeed are we.
So last week we had booked to go to an open air concert in Painshill Park, a local stately garden. The weather was threatening thunderstorms, but being British we packed our waterproofs and carried on. The day before was muggy and overcast, but we decided to go out in case the concert was rained off, and drove down to the river to look at the boats. The river is the Thames, and we parked near my childhood home and walked up towards Kingston Bridge. It turned out that there was a junior sculling regatta, all boats from single sculls up to octuples (I didn’t know that word and had to look it up), so we sat in the (unexpected) sunshine and watched the races. My mother always enjoys watching rowing as she used to row for Durham when she was at uni. Being British it had not occurred to us that it might be sunny, so we failed to take any sun cream, and had glowing faces the next day.
A visit to Osterley Park
Apr. 18th, 2021 08:16 amStaying with my mother for the weekend, yesterday we went to Osterley Park. It's a National Trust house, the house itself is shut but the extensive gardens can be visited by appointment. The drive through South London on the first Saturday shopping day for months was a bit trying, compounded by the fact that I had carelessly put "Osterley Park" into Google Maps rather than "Osterley Park National Trust" (turns out that the first address takes you to a Tesco, who knew?).
Anyway, once we had got over that little contretemps and M and I had both regained our tempers the visit was delightful. It was a gorgeous spring day and many tulips and daffodils were out, and cherry trees and magnolias were in bloom. The colours were a delight after the drabness of the last few months. The formal gardens were pretty empty (you have to pay for these with your car parking ticket), so Mum and I didn't bother with masks.
We ambled round looking at the Palladian style buildings incongruously embedded in the English landscape. They had shiny white façades but were backed with Georgian style windows, looking neither properly classical nor Italian. We sat under trees and listened to birdsong, spotting a tiny wren sitting on a shrub and giving forth a vocalisation that resembled a (very high-pitched) machine gun in style and volume. We saw brimstone and orange-tip butterflies, which made my mother happy as she hadn't seen one of the latter for years.
We finished with a cup of tea in the Stables courtyard, at socially distanced tables. When we got home Mum dug out a guidebook which explained that the house was owned by the Child banking family and eventually inherited by Lady Sarah Sophia Fane, who married the Earl of Jersey and became Sally Jersey in the Georgette Heyer novels. There's a picture of her in the book in her countess robes of red velvet and ermine looking rather statelier than she appears in the novels.
Anyway, once we had got over that little contretemps and M and I had both regained our tempers the visit was delightful. It was a gorgeous spring day and many tulips and daffodils were out, and cherry trees and magnolias were in bloom. The colours were a delight after the drabness of the last few months. The formal gardens were pretty empty (you have to pay for these with your car parking ticket), so Mum and I didn't bother with masks.
We ambled round looking at the Palladian style buildings incongruously embedded in the English landscape. They had shiny white façades but were backed with Georgian style windows, looking neither properly classical nor Italian. We sat under trees and listened to birdsong, spotting a tiny wren sitting on a shrub and giving forth a vocalisation that resembled a (very high-pitched) machine gun in style and volume. We saw brimstone and orange-tip butterflies, which made my mother happy as she hadn't seen one of the latter for years.
We finished with a cup of tea in the Stables courtyard, at socially distanced tables. When we got home Mum dug out a guidebook which explained that the house was owned by the Child banking family and eventually inherited by Lady Sarah Sophia Fane, who married the Earl of Jersey and became Sally Jersey in the Georgette Heyer novels. There's a picture of her in the book in her countess robes of red velvet and ermine looking rather statelier than she appears in the novels.
Magnolia Season
Apr. 7th, 2021 08:26 pmIt's magnolia time here. Many local houses have huge magnolias in their front gardens, the branches reaching to the roof. For most of the year their thick green leaves completely obscure the front windows, offering privacy for the price of deep shade. Now, however, in early April, it's magnolia time. Their glorious blossoms light up the street, ranging from purest white through various shades of pink to purple.
Unfortunately, however, in between blasts of sunshine, we are still experiencing a wintry chill, with north east winds and random handfuls of snow. The magnolia petals are already falling, and those on the trees are starting to look tattered and brown at the edges. A brief, but beautiful season.
Unfortunately, however, in between blasts of sunshine, we are still experiencing a wintry chill, with north east winds and random handfuls of snow. The magnolia petals are already falling, and those on the trees are starting to look tattered and brown at the edges. A brief, but beautiful season.
Cat wrangling
Dec. 30th, 2020 03:03 pmWe got back from my mother's on Sunday afternoon, to a warm welcome from Izzy, who trompled backwards and forwards over my legs, and a lukewarm one from Raffles: "You left me - where is my fuss? No, I want proper fuss in the proper place, on the cat tree, not just where you happen to be."
It was only a couple of hours later that I noticed that Izzy had a large weeping hole in her skin under her tail, just beside her rectum. I rang the emergency vet and asked if I should bring her in now or whether it would be better to wait until the following morning when I could take her to the usual vet. "That would be Bank Holiday Monday" said the receptionist, "and your vet will be shut." Fortunately they could fit us in that evening.
Vet said he thought it was probably a bite, and it would be better not to put in stitches in case they tore, but he would clip the area round the wound and clean it out. Sent me home with antibiotics and metacam. Fortunately she will take both in cat soup, as I can't pill her (it is only by use of strategy and two humans that we can even get her into the cat basket). So at the moment she is occupying the spare room, as this is the only way I can make sure she gets the medication and Raffles doesn't, but also so she doesn't go outside. She seems quite relaxed, as under the bed in the spare room is one of her safe places anyway, and she seems happy for fuss when I go in there.
I am assuming that the bite was actually delivered by an alien cat and not Raffles. He and Izzy have always seemed to get on well, (apart from his eating most of the cat food when he gets the chance) and she wasn't particularly bothered by him being around after the incident. Also there is a large black and white cat from two doors down who is in a stand off with Raffles and whom I run off with menaces when I see him, so I'm blaming him. Though it could be one of the cats from next door who used to harass Tabitha, when she was alive, but that was over ten years ago so I'm not sure they're up to much harassment these days.
It was only a couple of hours later that I noticed that Izzy had a large weeping hole in her skin under her tail, just beside her rectum. I rang the emergency vet and asked if I should bring her in now or whether it would be better to wait until the following morning when I could take her to the usual vet. "That would be Bank Holiday Monday" said the receptionist, "and your vet will be shut." Fortunately they could fit us in that evening.
Vet said he thought it was probably a bite, and it would be better not to put in stitches in case they tore, but he would clip the area round the wound and clean it out. Sent me home with antibiotics and metacam. Fortunately she will take both in cat soup, as I can't pill her (it is only by use of strategy and two humans that we can even get her into the cat basket). So at the moment she is occupying the spare room, as this is the only way I can make sure she gets the medication and Raffles doesn't, but also so she doesn't go outside. She seems quite relaxed, as under the bed in the spare room is one of her safe places anyway, and she seems happy for fuss when I go in there.
I am assuming that the bite was actually delivered by an alien cat and not Raffles. He and Izzy have always seemed to get on well, (apart from his eating most of the cat food when he gets the chance) and she wasn't particularly bothered by him being around after the incident. Also there is a large black and white cat from two doors down who is in a stand off with Raffles and whom I run off with menaces when I see him, so I'm blaming him. Though it could be one of the cats from next door who used to harass Tabitha, when she was alive, but that was over ten years ago so I'm not sure they're up to much harassment these days.
Tomatoes in the conservatory
Dec. 20th, 2020 07:47 amOur house has a lean-to conservatory running alongside the kitchen. It's used as a untility room, bike shed and gardening shed. It is massively untidy and also unfortunately in need of a good clean (maybe next summer).
So this year I made some half-hearted attempts to grow food plants, starting at the tail end of the summer, which as any gardener will tell you is exactly the wrong time to start. I grew some squashes from seed and I bought a couple of past their best cherry tomato seedlings from Scotsdales for 50p each. The squash plants thrived in the traditional beanstalk manner, and sprawled all over the flowerbeds, happily producing yellow flowers (some of which I did indeed manage to cook with). They also produced a number of little yellow fruits, but these never got enough sun to grow and as autumn brought deluge after deluge the slugs got them one by one.
The tomato plants, on the other hand, grew and grew. I staked them and when they were about three feet high I started to cut the tops off the stems. They grew tiny starlike yellow flowers and then tiny green fruits. When the deluges were followed by high winds I moved them into the conservatory, sitting them on top of the washing machine and the dryer, which is coincidentally the sunniest corner. Ever since then they have been producing tiny cherry tomatoes, mostly no more than 1 cm in diameter, which I gather in handfuls and put on the kitchen window sill to ripen.
I am charmed that the conservatory is fulfilling its destiny in housing a tangle of green vines, and every time I brush past the (currently rampant) vegetation I get a breath of that glorious herby green tomato smell.
So this year I made some half-hearted attempts to grow food plants, starting at the tail end of the summer, which as any gardener will tell you is exactly the wrong time to start. I grew some squashes from seed and I bought a couple of past their best cherry tomato seedlings from Scotsdales for 50p each. The squash plants thrived in the traditional beanstalk manner, and sprawled all over the flowerbeds, happily producing yellow flowers (some of which I did indeed manage to cook with). They also produced a number of little yellow fruits, but these never got enough sun to grow and as autumn brought deluge after deluge the slugs got them one by one.
The tomato plants, on the other hand, grew and grew. I staked them and when they were about three feet high I started to cut the tops off the stems. They grew tiny starlike yellow flowers and then tiny green fruits. When the deluges were followed by high winds I moved them into the conservatory, sitting them on top of the washing machine and the dryer, which is coincidentally the sunniest corner. Ever since then they have been producing tiny cherry tomatoes, mostly no more than 1 cm in diameter, which I gather in handfuls and put on the kitchen window sill to ripen.
I am charmed that the conservatory is fulfilling its destiny in housing a tangle of green vines, and every time I brush past the (currently rampant) vegetation I get a breath of that glorious herby green tomato smell.
Socially distanced concert
Dec. 16th, 2020 05:30 pmWe went to a concert last week, at Stapleford Granary, which is a small local arts centre. Megson (a folk duo) were performing Christmas songs, and they did a good job of generating atmosphere despite the fact that the audience were all sitting at 2 metre intervals, were masked, and it wasn't warm enough to take many outer clothes off. The concert lasted for an hour, which is what the centre thought their ventilation systems could manage. As far as I can tell, it was the second live concert I've been to all year, the first being in March, and it will be the last until 2021.
Aaah, Raffles!
Oct. 4th, 2020 04:58 pmHad arranged to visit my mother Thursday-Saturday, followed by a <6 meeting in a pub garden for Saturday lunch. As I start packing on Thursday morning I notice that Raffles has a copiously weepy eye. Normally I would leave it overnight to see if it cleared up, but I can't leave it for the weekend.
Rang the vet. "I can fit you in at 5pm," said the helpful receptionist. "That's great. Er, you haven't got anything earlier , have you?" "I don't actually have an appointment at 5. I am fitting you in." "Right, lovely, see you then."
At 4.30 we squeeze Raffles, complaining loudly, into his lovely new cat box. The front door falls off its hinges. We cram it back on and haul cat across to the vet. We wait in the car park for half an hour, because Covid means no waiting rooms. By now I am deeply depressed at the idea of a) cancelling the weekend and b) trying to put eye ointment onto Raffles twice a day. Which we have done once and it was a Nightmare.
Although it has been raining, it has fortunately stopped for the moment. I sit on a slightly damp plastic chair. While waiting we find out a lot more than we really wanted to about another pet owner's dog's internal workings. Finally the vet comes out. "Which eye was it, then?" she enquires cheerfully. Raffles glares at me from two (now) identically clear golden orbs. "That one," I point, adding "He's a nightmare to treat with eye ointment, by the way. The last time it happened we had to get one of the nurses to come round twice a day to help us. Of course, if we had to..."
Vet hauls cat carrier into surgery. Ten minutes later she emerges, opining that although there is a very slight reddening of the (cornea?) she thinks we can manage without the eye ointment, and it should be OK to abandon him for the next couple of days. General rejoicing. "But he has put on weight again, another 0.3 kilos." That makes him 7.8 kilos. We then spend another 10 minutes discussing diets. "We need to aim for 7 kilos," says the vet firmly. I agree to stop feeding him Hills TD, as he has lost most of his teeth by now anyway, and swallows the biscuits whole.
We finally set off at about 6.30, and make it to my mother's by about 9 pm, completely shattered.
Rang the vet. "I can fit you in at 5pm," said the helpful receptionist. "That's great. Er, you haven't got anything earlier , have you?" "I don't actually have an appointment at 5. I am fitting you in." "Right, lovely, see you then."
At 4.30 we squeeze Raffles, complaining loudly, into his lovely new cat box. The front door falls off its hinges. We cram it back on and haul cat across to the vet. We wait in the car park for half an hour, because Covid means no waiting rooms. By now I am deeply depressed at the idea of a) cancelling the weekend and b) trying to put eye ointment onto Raffles twice a day. Which we have done once and it was a Nightmare.
Although it has been raining, it has fortunately stopped for the moment. I sit on a slightly damp plastic chair. While waiting we find out a lot more than we really wanted to about another pet owner's dog's internal workings. Finally the vet comes out. "Which eye was it, then?" she enquires cheerfully. Raffles glares at me from two (now) identically clear golden orbs. "That one," I point, adding "He's a nightmare to treat with eye ointment, by the way. The last time it happened we had to get one of the nurses to come round twice a day to help us. Of course, if we had to..."
Vet hauls cat carrier into surgery. Ten minutes later she emerges, opining that although there is a very slight reddening of the (cornea?) she thinks we can manage without the eye ointment, and it should be OK to abandon him for the next couple of days. General rejoicing. "But he has put on weight again, another 0.3 kilos." That makes him 7.8 kilos. We then spend another 10 minutes discussing diets. "We need to aim for 7 kilos," says the vet firmly. I agree to stop feeding him Hills TD, as he has lost most of his teeth by now anyway, and swallows the biscuits whole.
We finally set off at about 6.30, and make it to my mother's by about 9 pm, completely shattered.
Autumnal socialising
Sep. 5th, 2020 07:03 amHad a back-garden takeaway with K and M last night, all very socially distanced. They admired my dahlias (Bishop of Llandaff) and opined that my late planted squashes might produce fruit if we got a golden autumn.
The sky was patterned with tiny clouds which flushed a fiery pink in the sunset, echoed by our window reflections, and bats flitted overhead.
After that it got quite chilly so we called it a day and packed up quickly.
The sky was patterned with tiny clouds which flushed a fiery pink in the sunset, echoed by our window reflections, and bats flitted overhead.
After that it got quite chilly so we called it a day and packed up quickly.
Visited my mum at the weekend. It didn't start very auspiciously, in that I had to work on Friday morning (tax return deadlines) which was coincidentally my birthday. Then I went swimming at lunchtime. By the time we had packed and set off I was feeling so dopey that I had to ask M to do the driving (round the M25 on a late Friday afternoon). I wouldn't say the M25 was back to its beastly old self but there were certainly delays and it took us over 2 hours to do approximately 90 miles.
Anyway, things improved on arrival. Mum had made us a lovely summer meal with salmon, stir fried veg and strawberries and cream (not all together) and after sharing a bottle of Prosecco with her (M doesn't drink) I was feeling a lot perkier.
On Saturday we made an experimental sortie to M&S. Mum had not been into a shop since lockdown started, so it was a bit exciting for her, but she coped, and managed to buy some groceries.
Then in the afternoon we went to Kew Gardens. We didn't need to pay as Mum is a member, but we did need to book in advance. We managed to park in a side street near Victoria Gate. It was quite busy and nobody (except us) was wearing masks. It was overcast, but otherwise good. We ambled along at Mum's stroller pace.
I had read about some new displays (different countries of the world) but these turned out to be new panels pointing to existing trees and items from those countries, so less exciting. Nevertheless we went to China which included the pagoda, whose dragons had been newly refurbished, so their gold paint was shiny and new, and also Japan which was represented by a Japanese garden, raked gravel and a 4/5 size replica gateway of an original from a temple in Kyoto.
Then we tried to go to the temperate house but there was a long queue, and all the accessible entrances had been closed off (although I'm sure we could have found one if we'd tried for long enough). Instead we found a modern glasshouse devoted to Western Australia, which was not crowded and had bench seats, so we sat on them for a while, and wandered round to admire kangaroo paws and strawflowers. I might try to get some of the latter to grow in our garden as they are very bright and smell lovely.
We drove back through Richmond Park, carefully driving round the cyclists, of whom there were many, and pointing out the deer (which can be hard to distinguish from tree stumps unless you look hard).
Anyway, things improved on arrival. Mum had made us a lovely summer meal with salmon, stir fried veg and strawberries and cream (not all together) and after sharing a bottle of Prosecco with her (M doesn't drink) I was feeling a lot perkier.
On Saturday we made an experimental sortie to M&S. Mum had not been into a shop since lockdown started, so it was a bit exciting for her, but she coped, and managed to buy some groceries.
Then in the afternoon we went to Kew Gardens. We didn't need to pay as Mum is a member, but we did need to book in advance. We managed to park in a side street near Victoria Gate. It was quite busy and nobody (except us) was wearing masks. It was overcast, but otherwise good. We ambled along at Mum's stroller pace.
I had read about some new displays (different countries of the world) but these turned out to be new panels pointing to existing trees and items from those countries, so less exciting. Nevertheless we went to China which included the pagoda, whose dragons had been newly refurbished, so their gold paint was shiny and new, and also Japan which was represented by a Japanese garden, raked gravel and a 4/5 size replica gateway of an original from a temple in Kyoto.
Then we tried to go to the temperate house but there was a long queue, and all the accessible entrances had been closed off (although I'm sure we could have found one if we'd tried for long enough). Instead we found a modern glasshouse devoted to Western Australia, which was not crowded and had bench seats, so we sat on them for a while, and wandered round to admire kangaroo paws and strawflowers. I might try to get some of the latter to grow in our garden as they are very bright and smell lovely.
We drove back through Richmond Park, carefully driving round the cyclists, of whom there were many, and pointing out the deer (which can be hard to distinguish from tree stumps unless you look hard).
Gone Swimmin'
Aug. 1st, 2020 11:07 amOur swimming pools reopened last weekend, but all sessions need to be pre-booked. The organisation that runs our council facilities in Cambridge (Better (!)) had been emailing me for weeks to get my membership set up so that I could book, but unfortunately the method that they suggested didn't work and they had carefully not put a contact number or email address on their website.
The website did allow me to send a request for customer service support, but all this did was generate more emails explaining how delightful my life would be once I became a member.
So I went along last Saturday to talk to Actual People, noting that they have their contact details prominently displayed on the front desk. I suggested to them (reasonably calmly) that these should perhaps be added to the website. (There was another woman there at the same time explaining quite heatedly that she couldn't get her membership to link to the booking system, and she said that she had spent a lot of time trying to sort this out on the phone and on-line, so it wasn't just me!)
The Actual People explained that I had the wrong sort of membership (as I only pay them £10 a year to get discounted swimming) and helped me set up the booking app so that it worked. I should mention here that the Actual People (wearing face shields) were very cheerful and willing to get my problems sorted out.
So having booked, last Monday I set off with my swimming costume on under my clothes, to experience the Better swimming experience. They have a one way system set up, so that you enter via the cafe, proceed through to the pool, deposit your stuff in a Designated Spot on the side, go swimming, pick up your stuff, proceed through the changing rooms to shower and change, and exit via the car park. All this is supposed to take place within one hour, but although I took a bit longer there was nobody trying to rush people through.
The swimming experience was fine. They have separated the pools into double lanes so that you swim clockwise up and down (except for the woman who was sharing a lane with me yesterday who had clearly not read the signs.) There seemed to be at most three people in a lane which seems fine for social distancing. No overtaking unless you can do so in a socially distanced manner. You can't do butterfly (well I can't anyway, or not for more than 3 strokes) or backstroke, which I do miss.
And it was lovely! I have so missed swimming, and at the moment it's very calm and un-crowded, and I didn't at any point feel in danger of exposure to the virus. Hopeful that I can now start doing two sessions a week, just like normal.
The website did allow me to send a request for customer service support, but all this did was generate more emails explaining how delightful my life would be once I became a member.
So I went along last Saturday to talk to Actual People, noting that they have their contact details prominently displayed on the front desk. I suggested to them (reasonably calmly) that these should perhaps be added to the website. (There was another woman there at the same time explaining quite heatedly that she couldn't get her membership to link to the booking system, and she said that she had spent a lot of time trying to sort this out on the phone and on-line, so it wasn't just me!)
The Actual People explained that I had the wrong sort of membership (as I only pay them £10 a year to get discounted swimming) and helped me set up the booking app so that it worked. I should mention here that the Actual People (wearing face shields) were very cheerful and willing to get my problems sorted out.
So having booked, last Monday I set off with my swimming costume on under my clothes, to experience the Better swimming experience. They have a one way system set up, so that you enter via the cafe, proceed through to the pool, deposit your stuff in a Designated Spot on the side, go swimming, pick up your stuff, proceed through the changing rooms to shower and change, and exit via the car park. All this is supposed to take place within one hour, but although I took a bit longer there was nobody trying to rush people through.
The swimming experience was fine. They have separated the pools into double lanes so that you swim clockwise up and down (except for the woman who was sharing a lane with me yesterday who had clearly not read the signs.) There seemed to be at most three people in a lane which seems fine for social distancing. No overtaking unless you can do so in a socially distanced manner. You can't do butterfly (well I can't anyway, or not for more than 3 strokes) or backstroke, which I do miss.
And it was lovely! I have so missed swimming, and at the moment it's very calm and un-crowded, and I didn't at any point feel in danger of exposure to the virus. Hopeful that I can now start doing two sessions a week, just like normal.
A trip to London
Jul. 26th, 2020 07:30 amI hadn't been into the office since lockdown started in March. Since then, like my colleagues, I've been working at home. Our office just off Fleet Street has been staffed by a small team, and if you want to visit you have to get permission so that they can manage the social distancing.
We are due to move to new offices (a couple of hundred yards down the road, above City Thameslink station) and the old building will be closed at the end of August. A visit was becoming imperative to sort out my desk, rescue some personal belongings (including a large number of pairs of shoes, ahem!) and dispose of a lot of old files.
As the things that needed to be rescued included a computer monitor, and a few boxes worth of books and files, M suggested that we drive in and do it in one day, rather than me trying to wrestle a ton of stuff onto and off the train, and possibly having to make two trips.
I have actually not driven in Central London for a very long time, so I set up a congestion charge account, worked out a reasonable car park to use (my office only has three spaces and they were all booked) and asked Google Maps how to get there. Google Maps suggested that we go down the M11, continue in a straight line until we hit the river, and then turn right. Oh, and PS you'll have to cross to the South Bank via Southwark Bridge, drive through Bankside and back over Blackfriars Bridge because why not. (Why not was because the road was closed, presumably for repairs).
The office was just weird when I got there. Stripy tape all over the floors showing one way traffic. We were supposed only to use the lifts to go up, but so few people were in that I ignored this. Perhaps ten or so people on my floor, all sitting at desks far apart (though no face masks). The coffee machine was working but we had to bring our own milk.
I had brought my library books to return, as the city libraries are now open, and M kindly took them back for me. He then came and helped me with the shredding (that is, stuffing old client papers in the shredding bins). 99% of it was on the system anyway, and no, it did not feel like being at Arthur Andersen, back in the day, thanks for asking. I had to ask myself why I had kept all this old paper, and the answer was that I never had time to deal with it. Well, now it's dealt with, apart from a handful of client files that I felt I needed to keep just in case.
The drive back was much more trying than the drive in, as the traffic was a lot worse, and also I was navigating while M drove,and I am not good at this even with Google Maps. Instead of taking us back the way we came Google decided that the best way was diagonally north-eastwards towards the bottom of the M11. There was a lot of sitting in traffic interspersed with exciting intervals when two lanes of traffic tried to pile into one. At one point we found ourselves heading the wrong way down the A12. M took it quite calmly, considering.
Now all I have to do is find somewhere to put it all, which is going to involve sorting out my bookshelves. Hey ho.
We are due to move to new offices (a couple of hundred yards down the road, above City Thameslink station) and the old building will be closed at the end of August. A visit was becoming imperative to sort out my desk, rescue some personal belongings (including a large number of pairs of shoes, ahem!) and dispose of a lot of old files.
As the things that needed to be rescued included a computer monitor, and a few boxes worth of books and files, M suggested that we drive in and do it in one day, rather than me trying to wrestle a ton of stuff onto and off the train, and possibly having to make two trips.
I have actually not driven in Central London for a very long time, so I set up a congestion charge account, worked out a reasonable car park to use (my office only has three spaces and they were all booked) and asked Google Maps how to get there. Google Maps suggested that we go down the M11, continue in a straight line until we hit the river, and then turn right. Oh, and PS you'll have to cross to the South Bank via Southwark Bridge, drive through Bankside and back over Blackfriars Bridge because why not. (Why not was because the road was closed, presumably for repairs).
The office was just weird when I got there. Stripy tape all over the floors showing one way traffic. We were supposed only to use the lifts to go up, but so few people were in that I ignored this. Perhaps ten or so people on my floor, all sitting at desks far apart (though no face masks). The coffee machine was working but we had to bring our own milk.
I had brought my library books to return, as the city libraries are now open, and M kindly took them back for me. He then came and helped me with the shredding (that is, stuffing old client papers in the shredding bins). 99% of it was on the system anyway, and no, it did not feel like being at Arthur Andersen, back in the day, thanks for asking. I had to ask myself why I had kept all this old paper, and the answer was that I never had time to deal with it. Well, now it's dealt with, apart from a handful of client files that I felt I needed to keep just in case.
The drive back was much more trying than the drive in, as the traffic was a lot worse, and also I was navigating while M drove,and I am not good at this even with Google Maps. Instead of taking us back the way we came Google decided that the best way was diagonally north-eastwards towards the bottom of the M11. There was a lot of sitting in traffic interspersed with exciting intervals when two lanes of traffic tried to pile into one. At one point we found ourselves heading the wrong way down the A12. M took it quite calmly, considering.
Now all I have to do is find somewhere to put it all, which is going to involve sorting out my bookshelves. Hey ho.
Had my hair cut yesterday
Jul. 5th, 2020 12:23 pmMy hairdresser rang me up a couple of weeks ago to say they were likely to be reopening on the 4th and would I like an appointment. Would I heck?! I accepted with alacrity, although my hair had not at that point declined into the uncontrollable haystack stage (which was more or less where it was by yesterday morning).
It was a weird experience, though. The stylists were all wearing both masks and visors, and I think also gloves, and I had to wear a mask as well. They kindly gave me a disposable one, though in fact very little dye got on it so I think I might bring my own next time. And of course there were no magazines to read. Fortunately I had foreseen this and had brought a sack of necessities with me for all possible situations, including my book, kindle, bottle of water, a waterproof etc.
It was a bit muffled trying to communicate through all the layers of protection, and my hairdresser said it was very hot under his and kept going away to fan himself. It's harder to give someone a haircut if they are wearing a mask as you can't line up the hair precisely with ears, jawline etc. Also (which I only discovered at the end) the mask collects a lot of little bits of hair that are then funnelled into your nose and mouth. I spent the trip home spitting these out. But it's done, and I feel human again.
It was a weird experience, though. The stylists were all wearing both masks and visors, and I think also gloves, and I had to wear a mask as well. They kindly gave me a disposable one, though in fact very little dye got on it so I think I might bring my own next time. And of course there were no magazines to read. Fortunately I had foreseen this and had brought a sack of necessities with me for all possible situations, including my book, kindle, bottle of water, a waterproof etc.
It was a bit muffled trying to communicate through all the layers of protection, and my hairdresser said it was very hot under his and kept going away to fan himself. It's harder to give someone a haircut if they are wearing a mask as you can't line up the hair precisely with ears, jawline etc. Also (which I only discovered at the end) the mask collects a lot of little bits of hair that are then funnelled into your nose and mouth. I spent the trip home spitting these out. But it's done, and I feel human again.
Cooking in lockdown (with Yotam)
Jun. 14th, 2020 06:42 amI'm not one of these cooks who can make up recipes or who have a whole range of possibilities in their heads for whatever ingredients they happen to have on hand. I cook from books, and I enjoy trying new recipes. When I've had enough of the news (after about 5 minutes these days) I head over to the Guardian's recipe pages for comfort.
I've been doing a bit more, and more diverse, cooking at the moment as I seem to have a bit more time, or possibly more energy. I've got three of Yotam Ottolenghi's books and while Nopi is still a bit too complicated for me I have been doing new things both from Simple (Simple? Get a grip, Yotam!) and Plenty.
He's also been focusing on traybakes in these difficult times and here are some links to ones that have really worked for me: The chicken and split pea recipe here https://www.theguardian.com/food/2019/jan/19/yotam-ottolenghi-recipes-traybakes-pork-mushroom-pasta-spicy-chicken-chickpeas is addictive, although I do have a problem getting the texture of the split peas right. They have a tendency to come out soupy, in which case I bung in some frozen peas at the end. I tried it with some very old split peas that I found in the cupboard and they were fine, though a bit crunchier than I was expecting. I still have some left so I'll use them up the next time I make this.
The salmon and wakame one here https://www.theguardian.com/food/2019/apr/27/yotam-ottolenghi-30-minute-recipes-beans-leeks-eggs-fried-tofu-salmon-potato-bake is lovely for summer. I didn't have any wakame the first time I made it so I used nori instead which was fine. As there are only two of us I smear one pair of the salmon pieces with the butter and keep them in the fridge to microwave with the veg when I heat it up the second time.
And finally the spicy berbere ratatouille here https://www.theguardian.com/food/2020/jan/04/new-years-resolution-recipes-yotam-ottolenghi-chickpea-pancakes-fish-fritters-berbere-ratatouille ; is addictive. It's not ratatouille, of course, but it is spicy. The first time I did it I didn't have berebere spice so I made a substitute from an on-line recipe and it was fine, but better when I got a box of the real thing. Well, from Waitrose.
Oh, and a plentiful supply of banana bread (Nigella's recipe) because there are always slightly old bananas.
I've been doing a bit more, and more diverse, cooking at the moment as I seem to have a bit more time, or possibly more energy. I've got three of Yotam Ottolenghi's books and while Nopi is still a bit too complicated for me I have been doing new things both from Simple (Simple? Get a grip, Yotam!) and Plenty.
He's also been focusing on traybakes in these difficult times and here are some links to ones that have really worked for me: The chicken and split pea recipe here https://www.theguardian.com/food/2019/jan/19/yotam-ottolenghi-recipes-traybakes-pork-mushroom-pasta-spicy-chicken-chickpeas is addictive, although I do have a problem getting the texture of the split peas right. They have a tendency to come out soupy, in which case I bung in some frozen peas at the end. I tried it with some very old split peas that I found in the cupboard and they were fine, though a bit crunchier than I was expecting. I still have some left so I'll use them up the next time I make this.
The salmon and wakame one here https://www.theguardian.com/food/2019/apr/27/yotam-ottolenghi-30-minute-recipes-beans-leeks-eggs-fried-tofu-salmon-potato-bake is lovely for summer. I didn't have any wakame the first time I made it so I used nori instead which was fine. As there are only two of us I smear one pair of the salmon pieces with the butter and keep them in the fridge to microwave with the veg when I heat it up the second time.
And finally the spicy berbere ratatouille here https://www.theguardian.com/food/2020/jan/04/new-years-resolution-recipes-yotam-ottolenghi-chickpea-pancakes-fish-fritters-berbere-ratatouille ; is addictive. It's not ratatouille, of course, but it is spicy. The first time I did it I didn't have berebere spice so I made a substitute from an on-line recipe and it was fine, but better when I got a box of the real thing. Well, from Waitrose.
Oh, and a plentiful supply of banana bread (Nigella's recipe) because there are always slightly old bananas.
I've always had a bit of a blank about Virginia Woolf. I'd read Orlando, (and fallen asleep in the film) but it hadn't really clicked with me, and I know more about her sister Vanessa Bell's paintings and the house at Charleston, due to living in Brighton for 10 years. So when I got an email from Literature Cambridge who are I think the outreach part of the English faculty, offering short on-line courses, I thought "What the hell, I should at least try to read some Woolf" and signed up for a couple of hours on "To the Lighthouse". So I needed to read it first.
From the first page I was immediately drawn in. The narrative is from various points of view, of people on holiday in a summer house on the Isle of Skye. There's the hostess, Mrs Ramsay, with her eight children, her insecure academic husband, various hangers on of said husband, and an artist called Lily who is trying to paint Mrs Ramsay and her youngest son, James. There's an unvocalised struggle between James and Mr Ramsay for Mrs Ramsay's attention.
There's isn't a plot, as such. James wants to go to the lighthouse, but Mr Ramsay says they won't be able to, as it will be wet. And this is what happens. The adults sit down to dinner. Ten years pass, WW1 happens, Mrs Ramsay and two of her children die [abruptly, in parentheses]. The house, unvisited, starts to fall into ruin, but is eventually rescued to perform its old function as Mr Ramsay, the children, Lily and a couple of the hangers on come back for a visit. James gets his boat trip to the lighthouse with his father and his sister Cam.
You see the action from various different points of view, and the fascination is trying to piece together what's going on in the various relationships. Visually I imagined everything as impressionist paintings. The gardens, the boats on the sea, the dinner party with the posh clothes and the ladies in their jewellery.
The book covers a lot of themes: motherhood, the tensions between Mrs Ramsay and her demanding husband, the individuality of children, grief. Lily's the outside observer, but the book is also about art, how an artist (or a writer) works, and the importance of creativity in a life. How people think about each other changes from minute to minute, as they behave well or badly. The children hate and resist their father, and then are won over by him. It's a shimmering book, and I don't think one could ever come to the end of reading it.
From the first page I was immediately drawn in. The narrative is from various points of view, of people on holiday in a summer house on the Isle of Skye. There's the hostess, Mrs Ramsay, with her eight children, her insecure academic husband, various hangers on of said husband, and an artist called Lily who is trying to paint Mrs Ramsay and her youngest son, James. There's an unvocalised struggle between James and Mr Ramsay for Mrs Ramsay's attention.
There's isn't a plot, as such. James wants to go to the lighthouse, but Mr Ramsay says they won't be able to, as it will be wet. And this is what happens. The adults sit down to dinner. Ten years pass, WW1 happens, Mrs Ramsay and two of her children die [abruptly, in parentheses]. The house, unvisited, starts to fall into ruin, but is eventually rescued to perform its old function as Mr Ramsay, the children, Lily and a couple of the hangers on come back for a visit. James gets his boat trip to the lighthouse with his father and his sister Cam.
You see the action from various different points of view, and the fascination is trying to piece together what's going on in the various relationships. Visually I imagined everything as impressionist paintings. The gardens, the boats on the sea, the dinner party with the posh clothes and the ladies in their jewellery.
The book covers a lot of themes: motherhood, the tensions between Mrs Ramsay and her demanding husband, the individuality of children, grief. Lily's the outside observer, but the book is also about art, how an artist (or a writer) works, and the importance of creativity in a life. How people think about each other changes from minute to minute, as they behave well or badly. The children hate and resist their father, and then are won over by him. It's a shimmering book, and I don't think one could ever come to the end of reading it.
Weekly cycle ride
May. 16th, 2020 06:09 pmI have persuaded M to join me for a couple of these. It's not really fair as he has a big heavy town bike and I have a lightweight streamlined road bike, and he is also asthmatic though not on the serious end of the scale. Nevertheless we got out today.
We took the DNA cycle path to Shelford, and then cycled through neigbouring Stapleford towards the Gog Magogs, a long slow upward rise through the fields. The Gogs are our highest local point, rising to (ahem) about 75m above sea level. To get that high, however, we would have had to take a footpath up to the Tumulus on Magog Down, or Wandlebury Ring. Looking at the OS map, we may have reached 50m before descending toward the Babraham Road.
We stopped at the conveniently sited Gog Farm Shop, and after minimal queuing picked up such delights as home-made pork and apple pies, Tunworth cheese and a whole free range chicken, with giblets(!), before taking the Babraham Road home. A round trip of about 8 miles, with slightly over an hour's actual cycling.
We took the DNA cycle path to Shelford, and then cycled through neigbouring Stapleford towards the Gog Magogs, a long slow upward rise through the fields. The Gogs are our highest local point, rising to (ahem) about 75m above sea level. To get that high, however, we would have had to take a footpath up to the Tumulus on Magog Down, or Wandlebury Ring. Looking at the OS map, we may have reached 50m before descending toward the Babraham Road.
We stopped at the conveniently sited Gog Farm Shop, and after minimal queuing picked up such delights as home-made pork and apple pies, Tunworth cheese and a whole free range chicken, with giblets(!), before taking the Babraham Road home. A round trip of about 8 miles, with slightly over an hour's actual cycling.
The joys of composting
May. 13th, 2020 08:34 pmUntil last weekend we had two compost bins in the back garden. One is a (broken) plastic one which came with the garden (it wasn't broken when we moved in but in the last 20 years the plastic has cracked, it has a big hole in one side and the top part doesn't fit onto the bottom part). Also it has housed at least one bees' nest, though fortunately not this year.
The other is a wooden bin with a roof on top for inserting vegetation and a panel at the bottom from which one can in theory extract lovely new compost. In practice not so much as we don't turn the compost enough as it's a huge faff digging it out and then putting it back again. Also it was full, but with a large space behind the panel at the bottom which had not been magically filled by lovely new compost when I took out some for use earlier this year.
So last week our new rotating compost bin arrived, only requiring "a basic level of DIY skills" to assemble. Despite my doubts that we could muster one of these between us, M managed to put it together and erect it in a functional state.
I also bought a compost turner for the wooden bin, on the hypothesis that this would improve our efforts at rotating the stuff.
I then spent this morning turning the compost in the wooden bin, and moving half-composted detritus from the broken one to the rotating one. I also moved over some woodlice and wormy things on the theory that these are also necessary for the process. I was going to get rid of the broken one, but having discovered a layer of perfectly good compost under the detritus I thought I would leave it until I had used it up, and piled the non-fitting plastic bits back on top again.
Tired now.
The other is a wooden bin with a roof on top for inserting vegetation and a panel at the bottom from which one can in theory extract lovely new compost. In practice not so much as we don't turn the compost enough as it's a huge faff digging it out and then putting it back again. Also it was full, but with a large space behind the panel at the bottom which had not been magically filled by lovely new compost when I took out some for use earlier this year.
So last week our new rotating compost bin arrived, only requiring "a basic level of DIY skills" to assemble. Despite my doubts that we could muster one of these between us, M managed to put it together and erect it in a functional state.
I also bought a compost turner for the wooden bin, on the hypothesis that this would improve our efforts at rotating the stuff.
I then spent this morning turning the compost in the wooden bin, and moving half-composted detritus from the broken one to the rotating one. I also moved over some woodlice and wormy things on the theory that these are also necessary for the process. I was going to get rid of the broken one, but having discovered a layer of perfectly good compost under the detritus I thought I would leave it until I had used it up, and piled the non-fitting plastic bits back on top again.
Tired now.
