My car seems to be attracting local cats – have left the house a number of times recently to find a cat sleeping by/under it.
Went over to Newbury on Saturday 2
nd, once we had taken delivery of Ruth’s season ticket (a whole saga attached there), officially to purchase some
Arthur Price cutlery from
Camp Hopson to form a wedding gift for Gail. On arrival we discovered that they had no pastry forks (the desired item) in stock – personally I don’t think I’ve ever used, or indeed seen, a
pastry fork, but evidently they were on Gail’s wish list. I suggested a set of cream horn moulds as staying within a Victorian theme, but this idea was spurned. I bought a small bin for my new bathroom in the clearance sale, so all was not lost.
Ruth’s family evidently has a long history of shopping at Camps – her aunt has an account there and apparently she remembers going there with her grandmother during summer holidays; Granny apparently thought nothing of parking outside the front of the store in the Daimler – or, apparently, sometimes in the Chairman’s reserved parking space. The store has had such a comprehensive makeover that it’s barely recognisable from how I remember it looking as a child, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing – though it seems a shame to lose the big Lego man I remember being on the stairs on the way to the toy department. Indeed, I think the toy department’s gone.
We had a lovely steak frites at
Brasserie Gérard, which has replaced Beynons in the Market Place – I believe they are a chain, though I’ve never eaten at one before. One of the best steaks I’ve ever had though – will definitely try them again. Ruth bought a cauliflower at the market and exclaimed for a while over its cheapness and plumpness and rhapsodised for a while about the civilisedness of having a decent markets to shop at. Not living anywhere near one I d
idn’t really contribute to this – Christ knows where there is one in MK, and the regular market in Reading is a cheap-and-cheerful affair selling knocked off mobile phone covers round the back of the also-cheap-and-cheerful Broad Street Mall. Nice idea though. Spent a pleasant evening in the garden where Ruth did some tidying up of the vine and we burned some stuff in the chimenea, including whatever caused this slightly scary sheet of flame.
Another barrier to empowerment broken on Sunday morning when I drove us to the tip (actually, the
Smallmead Household Waste Recycling Centre) to dump a bath panel, various pieces of plasterboard, a pile of old paint pots and assorted bits and pieces of rusty metalwork. Wh
at catharsis.
Got to travel to Cheltenham on Tuesday 5
th for a training day at
HESA. I think I drove through Cheltenham once but have never been there otherwise, so was hoping for more of a chance of a poke about, but in the event we only got half an hour for lunch and it was raining. It has an enormous branch of Waitrose, though; I popped in briefly on
my way back to the station for some of Loacker’s divine chocolate wafers. Walked from the station to the town centre along the Honeybourne Line, formerly the railway line connecting Cheltenham with Honeybourne, and now turned into a foot/cycle path. Honeybourne station itself still exists in a reduced form as a stop on the Cotswold Line between Oxford and Hereford. According to
this, it was closed in 1969 but then opened again in 1985 - seems quite a coup.
On the recommendation of someone at the OU, the lovely Sam (aka ‘Mr Bike’) of
MBRS UK Ltd came round to the house after work on the evening of the 6th and gave my little-used bike a service. Seemed a real bike enthusiast. Said that the best thing for the bike would probably be if it had some mileage put on it. Cheek.
Decided to spend the weekend of the 10
th and 11
th up in MK, partly because I wanted to try out the bike. Apart from a brief go at Center Parcs two years ago, I hadn’t cycled for about 12 years so was anticipating being distinctly rusty. Went out early on the Saturday morning with the idea of meeting as few people as possible and rode around for half an hour or so. Certainly have some way to go in terms of increasing fitness. Donned new gardening gloves later that morning to pull up the assortment of withered thistles and stuff them into my green waste caddy. Put down some
pearl spar and an orby thing purchased from Homebase. That
’s my quota of gardening work for the next month or so.
As part of the grand plan of taking more exercise, decided to see how long it would take me to walk in to Central MK. A long time, is the answer - picked what I imagined from the map would be the most attractive route, up the canal
and then across Campbell Park; walking through the estates would probably have been more direct but given the recent shootings in Fishermead I thought I'd give that one a miss. Pleasant, if long, walk – the canal has a number of cute little old bridges, now all footbridges, and I saw some baby moorhens, one of whom approached me squawking insistently and was no doubt indignant that I had nothing to give it. Eventually arrived on Midsummer Boulevard about an hour and a quarter after setting out from Simpson. Called into the
MK Gallery to see the 'New Art MK' exhibition of emerging artistic talent from the local area, including one chap labelled as ‘the self-styled king of contemporary embroidery’, who works through the medium of cross-stitch. Then went off to John Lewis for a cup of tea. Got the bus back ...
On the Sunday went for a stroll around
Caldecotte Lake, just south of Simpson, as this looked a potential place to cycle. Indeed there were a number of people on bikes and a whole host of cycle paths, so I returned on the bike after work on Monday.
Returned to Reading yesterday for Progress South Central’s ‘farewell event’, organised by the LLN’s three remaining staff, though a number of former staff were in attendance, as well as a number of other people who have worked with the LLN over the last few years. Ann said a few words, then Richard Messer, Director of Academic Services, toasted Fay and Ann, then we had lunch. Not having any other pressing engagements I helped clear up and went back to the TOB with Ann, Paul and Godfrey for a cup of tea.
The website is going to stay online until 2013 as a record of the LLN's work and Ann tells me the final Annual Report is due any day, so I await my copy.
turday 23rd to attend an evening wedding reception. Sarah, the youngest member of our Book Group, had married her boyfriend Tim earlier that day at a church near her parents’ home and the address of the evening reception was charmingly given as ‘Grandad’s Field’. After a bit of last-minute panicking, Ali had booked us into the George Hotel right in the centre of Frome, a slightly shabby old hotel but a good location. Had a lovely lunch at the Black Swan Arts centre and a wander around Frome which is a pretty old town and makes much of apparently having been “the Bath before Bath was discovered”, or some such. In the evening we took a taxi out to Grandad's Field and met up with Helen and Lesley, who had been at the wedding, though apparently they had got lost en route and only just made it. There was barn dancing, though only Claire indulged out of our group. Lesley was righteously indignant at having walked 
onto the floor with a woman earlier only to have the compere immediately shout "right, we need two more men". Barn dancing's obviously a strictly hetero affair.
I admire though could never emulate; it consists roughly of not consulting a map beforehand but setting off in the approximate direction of your destination and relying on seeing the place you're trying to reach pop up on a road sign at some point. Assuming you're not in a big hurry, it is actually quite relaxing, though I'm not nearly laid-back enough to do it myself.
