Public school; chitterlings; curry

Mum arrived on Thursday evening to stay for a few days and after breakfast on Friday at the Alto Lounge we took the train over to Windsor and spent most of the day mooching around Eton, including going on a guided tour of Eton College (pictures here). Our guide was a pleasant fairly elderly woman whose four sons had apparently all been through Eton – after learning that the full fees are £30,000 per year, Mum and I were dying to ask her what her husband did for a living, but refrained. The tour includes only limited bits of the College: we had a quick whiz around School Yard and the cloisters, the oldest classroom in the College and the Chapel, before finishing in the Museum of Eton Life. So no getting to poke through boys’ bedrooms, but you can watch a video about life at Eton, showing boys eating their lunch and having intelligent group discussions in masters’ studies. (An amusing thought would be an alternative video of Eton life, showing boys getting bladdered and mooning the locals. I’m sure that doesn’t happen though.) The museum takes pains to point out that both beating and fagging have long since been abolished.

It did strike me, while wandering around Eton, as inappropriate to have a primary school called The Porny School. I know it’s because it was named after a Mr Porny (a former French master at Eton College called Antoine Pyron du Martre; how that got anglicised to Porny I'm not sure). It just seems wrong.

On Saturday morning we wandered to Reading Farmers’ Market, a twice-monthly affair held in the old cattle market on Great Knollys Street. One of the meat stalls always has an interesting selection of innards, including chitterlings (NB spelt chitlings by the stall owner). A quick Google search reveals a number of web resources for chitterlings, including The Chitterling Site. Here’s how to clean them. Just not sure I fancy eating something where the preparations include picking it clean of any faeces. One might perhaps legitimately ask whether something that requires this much cleaning beforehand is actually suitable for human consumption. Needless to say we didn’t buy any chitterlings, but did acquire some tomato plants and a lardy cake.

Spent much of the rest of Saturday sitting in the garden enjoying the sun and watching Harley skit about the garden eating the heads off flowers. Dad joined us for dinner in the evening at The Spice Oven, a cavernous Indian restaurant housed in a former nightclub¹. It has relatively restrained beige décor but recovers its kitsch credentials by having a small lake in the centre complete with fish, plants and a bridge. Saturday night turned out to be Buffet Night, which I hadn’t known about in advance, but my parents and I took advantage of the opportunity to try a few different dishes, while Ruth ordered something mild and creamy for herself.

On Sunday morning we all trooped up to the marina, where Dad had left his car, to squeeze onto Ray’s boat for breakfast. In the evening Ruth and I lit the chimenea for the first time this year and had a ceremonial burning of the goddess figure I made at Samhain. She went up a treat.

Unsatisfactory start to Monday morning when entered bathroom and realised after a few moments (it being pre-coffee) that I was paddling through water. After brief negotiations Ruth agreed to stay home and call a plumber, who duly came out and tightened various areas of slackness around the bath and basin taps. One of the few advantages of having a ground floor bathroom was that no other rooms were flooded. Apparently there had been a slow leak going on for some time, which might explain the occasional sprouting of fungus on the floor. Really must get new bathroom sorted.

¹ The Nue Valbonne, where I once snogged a bloke then stood him up the next day. In my defence it was 20 years ago and I was young and silly.

Ethnic/folky stuff; property watch; bagels

Reading Borough Council has evidently been very busy planting daffodil bulbs in attractive swirly lines, as the park at the end of our road now has this cheery spring display.

Spent a pleasant evening at the Global Café on Friday. Am pleased that the excellent Tutu’s Ethiopian Table appears to be a continuing success. Enjoyed the Yefeske Beyayenetu (or, if you prefer, Special Meat Platter) for dinner, involving a nice lamb dish accompanied by lentil stew and fried spinach. As there is nothing on Tutu’s menu that is not at least mildly spicy, I was a little concerned for Ruth’s wellbeing, as she has little head for spice, but she claimed to have enjoyed the simmered lamb dish that she ordered, although she did look a little pink by the time she’d finished. The purpose of the evening was to hear local band Dolly and the Clothespegs, although thanks to a few technical hitches and a dreadful supporting act, they didn’t begin their set until nearly 10, by which time Helen and I were beginning to take on an ‘I’ll be off now for a cup of tea and my slippers’ appearance. We shuffled off by 11pm, with Claire, who is rather more of a night owl, muttering darkly about lightweights. Que sera.

Keeping a keen eye out, as I do, for houses up for sale on our street, I was cheered to note over the weekend that Ugly House Opposite (not its real name) has just gone on the market. It's being advertised as an 'investment opportunity', which appears to be estate agent-speak for 'hard-to-sell hovel suitable only for selling to a builder or letting to the desperate'.

Spent the day in London on Tuesday at the termly LLN Research Forum meeting at Birkbeck in the morning, and at the Institute of Education library in the afternoon. Started off by visiting Bagel Nash on Shaftesbury Avenue for breakfast, as part of a minor quest to find nicely chewy bagels (supermarket varieties being a bit bready). The bagel I had was excellent and Bagel Nash do do mail order, though unfortunately only in quantities of 72. Am undecided at the moment, given that this might necessitate buying a new freezer. On a different food quest, I had hoped to pop in to the Hanna Korean supermarket on Store Street on the way home to buy some kimchi, but was disappointed to find that it was closed and, according to the notice on the door, under the care and protection of the bailiffs.

Enjoyed the civilised open-door ambience of the University of London buildings, cf others I have visited recently (see post of 24 February).

Wholefood collectives; West Country city breaks; Lindt fervour

Went for a c. 6km walk around Emmer Green the Saturday before last in a continuing attempt to get to grips with the distance counter on my new pedometer. Sure it can’t really be that complicated, but am struggling at the moment. En route, took in the new True Food Co-op Community Shop on Grove Road. The True Food Co-op hold weekly markets in different venues across Reading, which, typically, I have occasionally thought about going to, but never actually been to. They have recently – as of three weeks ago – opened a ‘community shop’ in Emmer Green, which is tucked away in an obscure little parade of shops near St Barnabas Church and I would have remained unaware of it had my boss Paul, one suspects a bit of a wholefoody type, not alerted me to its presence. A worthy endeavour though not sure how it will do. I had a bit of a wander around, giving some strangely-shaped carrots a wide berth. Decided I was OK for spelt and flax products, but to show support bought a packet of coffee, some organic corn cakes and some nettle tea, which apparently has a cleansing and purifying effect. Bring it on.

Small and exclusive Book Group gathering at Claire’s house last Wednesday to eat a very nice pasta salad (and a few other bits) and discuss Keith Ridgway’s novella Horses. For a short book it had sparked a variety of interpretations, one involving the ‘village idiot’-type character Mathew really being Jesus, which I can’t say had occurred to me as a possibility, unless Jesus was really stupid and wore ill-fitting trousers.

Ruth and I spent a pleasant couple of days on a mini ‘city break’ in Bristol for the first part of the Easter weekend. I had booked us in to the Premier Inn on King Street which turned out to be rather fabulously positioned right on the harbourside. We started off with a stroll across Castle Park and a couple of hours shopping in the new Cabot Circus shopping centre, triggered by Ruth’s quest for a pair of well-fitting jeans. We drew a blank on those, but did buy a few tops between us. Next up was a visit to the Blue Reef Aquarium - by the time we arrived we had missed the last showing in the IMAX 3D cinema, but the upside was that we got a relatively uncrowded walk around to look at the fishies and some other intriguingly weird creatures. It was pouring with rain when we emerged so we nipped into the Watershed for a drink and ended up staying to see a movie, Jessica Hausner’s Lourdes. We ended the day with dinner at the rather super half-afloat Spyglass.

We started Saturday by hopping onto a sightseeing bus intending to have a bit of a walk to the Clifton Suspension Bridge, but the inclement weather put us off that idea (the tour bus was largely empty except for us and a group of over-enthusiastic German tourists). We got off the bus in Clifton and had a hearty breakfast at the Clifton Bistro and a bit of a poke around the Clifton Arcade. The rain eased off sufficiently for us to have a bit of a walk around Clifton and a visit to Clifton Cathedral before tea and cake at the lovely Primrose Café and then heading back into the city. I paid a brief visit to the Imogen Stidworthy exhibition, part of the Arnolfini’s 'Lingua Franca' series: interesting in parts, though I’d dispute that the phrase ‘Get here!’ (as uttered by ill-bred harpies to their children) is unique to Liverpool. We dined at Loch Fyne before going to see another movie, Tom Ford's A Single Man (Ruth's payback for having to sit through Lourdes). Actually it was good and Colin Firth does at least seem to have stopped playing Mr Darcy. That lad from About A Boy has certainly grown into a bit of a hottie, if you like that kind of thing.

NB Premier Inns aren’t bad value for money and I do like their extra-large beds and flat screen TVs, but I’ve yet to find one that costs £29 a night, despite the advertising campaign. Maybe in Hull or similar.

Easter Sunday began with the discovery that my Easter display of colourful chicks had produced a large Lindt golden egg between them. This was followed by an exciting hunt for Lindt gold bunnies that Ruth had cunningly hidden around the house for me (see this one on top of the marmalade). Then went over to Ashbury for Sunday lunch at Ruth's aunt's house, via The Bear at Hungerford for tea while waiting for our lift. Quite nice; never been there before. After a sustaining lunch of roast lamb and sherry trifle we took the customary walk to see the ponies - I tend to steer clear of horses/ponies and their ilk so left Ruth to pet them while I tried, again unsuccessfully, to befriend Mona the farm cat.

Had a slightly bizarre but enjoyable picnic breakfast with Ray by the Thames in Pangbourne early on Easter Monday, before he went off to a job and I went for a walk. Tried to make good use of the Closure Day on Tuesday by going to the gym for the first time this year. Even went for a swim as well afterwards. That's me done for the next couple of months.