Cotswolds; probation

Completely failed to even attempt to read this month’s Book Group book, Lionel Shriver’s So Much for That, but went along anyway to listen to others’ opinions of it, coupled with more assurances that anyone who hasn’t yet read ‘Kevin’ really must as it’s the best book ever. I MIGHT, OK. Or I might not.

Little Hattons

Ruth and I decamped to the Cotswolds on Friday for a hastily-planned three-night break courtesy of English Country Cottages, after our positive experience with them back in March. As we had less time on this occasion my main criterion had been to go somewhere that didn’t involve excessive amounts of driving to get there, so we chose Little Hattons, in a village called Frampton Mansell a little way west of Cirencester. The drive there was uneventful until we actually arrived at the village and discovered that our destination was located at the bottom of a steep-sided valley accessed by a narrow road with hairpin bends attached. There was a brief tense moment when we became stuck on a muddy bank which I had lurched onto quickly to get out of the way of an approaching lorry of inappropriate size; after Ruth had suggested I tried rocking the car backwards and forwards, and I think I had inexcusably told her to shut the **** up unless she wanted to ****ing drive, we managed to break free and reach our holiday cottage, where I managed to pull the car off the road after only a brief contretemps with a wall. Will get the rear bumper sorted out at a later date.

Sugar success

Met briefly with the owner, a Mrs Gerrard, a dead posh relocated-to-the-country-from-London type, who showed us around the attractive 18^th century cottage and left us to it. We went to make tea and realised that neither of us had remembered to bring any sugar. Having given up sugar in tea for Lent in my teens and never gone back to it, it never occurs to me to pack it, so I absolved myself of responsibility. As I refused to drive another yard, we set out to walk to the neighbouring village of Oakridge, where the file of useful bumf in the cottage informed us that there was a shop. After staggering up some very steep roads, we eventually reached Oakridge, where the shop was not immediately obvious, but we eventually found it and Ruth purchased a bag of sugar. The following morning we discovered a supply of sugar in one of the kitchen cupboards.

By the Norman Arch

On the Saturday we elected to drive into Cirencester, to have a look at its medieval/Roman/country-pursuity-charms. Only ever been there once before, on a school trip to the Roman Museum, which I remember finding dull as ditchwater at the time. When we eventually got there after abandoning attempts to park in the town car parks and retreated to the temporary Park & Ride set up at Cirencester College (good idea, that), we veered off immediately into a Barbour suppliers, where Ruth purchased a jacket, after some banter with the salesman about the attractiveness or otherwise of the Liberty print lining. We had a wander around the Farmers Market, where I sampled some quince liqueur, and then the Christmas market, which had just opened. Had an extended wander around with a brief break for tea and cake. I made us visit the church in the Market Place, awash with Christmas trees inside, which was quite pretty, and the Abbey Grounds, which are somewhat underwhelming although I guess the Norman Arch is quite cute. Here I am leaning against it.

If you want to know more about Cirencester, you can consult the Cirencester website, apparently the most extensive source of Cirencester-related information on the Internet. As you'd expect really.

On the Sunday I persuaded Ruth that we really should go out for a walk to explore the surrounding countryside. Rather to my surprise, she agreed reasonably enthusiastically and we set out for a tramp along the towpath of the former (extremely former) Thames & Severn Canal, while chiding Ray for our newly-developed interest in canals. Allegedly, restoration of the canal is afoot, but there was no sign of that having reached the section we walked along. The canal, completed in 1789, apparently always suffered from problems with its water supply (bit of a core difficulty, that), exacerbated by the steep hill it had to climb from its western end near Stroud up into the Cotswolds to the Sapperton Tunnel, at the time it was built the longest canal tunnel in Britain. We walked past at least six disused locks in the comparatively short stretch we walked along, so the waterway evidently had some steep climbing to do.

The Crown at Frampton Mansell

We were both surprised at the lack of any fencing or even warning signs around the lock basins, which are empty but pretty deep and an unwary child or dog could easily come a cropper. Perhaps ‘Health & Safety’ hasn’t taken over as much as the anti-PC brigade would like to think. We had a peek at the castellated Daneway Portal, the western end of the Sapperton Tunnel, and then briefly visited the churchyard at Sapperton before walking back along the road to Frampton Mansell. Later that afternoon we went for a late lunch at The Crown, Frampton Mansell’s pub and apparently ‘the perfect traditional Cotswold venue’.

Spent a couple of cosy evenings, one watching the 80s movie How to Get Ahead in Advertising, which I don't think I'd ever seen but which was rather darker than I'd imagined, and the other spent watching back-to-back New Tricks. Undemanding stuff.

The weekend ended up, although not planned that way, being a celebration of us both passing our probations and being ‘signed off’ in our new roles. I had a brief interview with Judith last week, during which she complimented my calm, well-organised approach (as I am usually recognised at work for these qualities, such praise has started to pass over my head somewhat – am waiting to have such exciting words as ‘dynamic’ and ‘maverick’ attached to me, though those are admittedly not qualities necessarily required of someone in my sort of job role). Still, nice to get the official letter from Nick confirming my post. I have also been offered an extension of my contract to a three-year as opposed to the original two-year fixed term, which is good news. Ruth had a two-hour long meeting with her boss Patrick in a noisy café (they obviously do things differently in London) but she has been given the OK also. Hurrah.

Diversity Compliance; family weekend; vests

Finally got around on Friday to completing the university’s Diversity Compliance online training module and taking the test. In return, I now have this handsome certificate. Additionally, I know know not to hurl abuse at black colleagues or to push disabled people down the stairs. The certificate can join the ranks of the leagues of minor certificates I have gathered over the years (DisplayWrite 4, anyone?), the first of which was probably my First Holy Communion certificate (left). My first chomp on the Lord Jesus was at our parish church in Newbury in 1975. Here I am, wearing my customary coy demure expression.

Drove down to my parents’ place early Saturday morning where Mum and Hannah cooked up a hearty brunch. We looked at some of the reams of old slides and negatives that Hannah has been scanning in and exclaimed over some old photos that evidently never made it into the family albums, including, perhaps not surprisingly, this one (right). Hannah cooked a roast chicken in the evening which went well other than a slight dispute over the correct amount of oil to drizzle/glug over the bird. On the Sunday we went out for a walk locally before going to 'Food for Thought' in Peterchurch for lunch.

My MK landlord has recently seen fit to install new electric heaters in the flat to replace the old bulky storage heaters. In principle this is great, were it not for the impenetrable instructions. Admittedly I have little patience with such things and after my first attempt to programme them was swiftly reduced to recriminations, banging head against the table etc. Ruth visited for the evening a week or so ago and spent half an hour or so in front of one heater with the manual, and eventually managed to programme it after a fashion. There remain three others to do but I was sufficiently grateful just to have heat out of one. It isn't seriously cold yet, but am stockpiling vests, thick socks etc in preparation.

Donnington; OU stuff; life and death

Have been extending my walk to work a few mornings a week recently in an attempt to pack in more exercise, now that darkness and cold in the mornings have forced me to abandon the early cycling plan – could cycle to work, but that would involve changes of clothes, showers etc, which is all too complicated (though a number of my colleagues do actually do this). Have, believe it or not, found quite a pleasant walk, north of here up through Woughton Park and Woughton on the Green – quite an attractive village which doesn’t appear to have any shops but does have quite a decent-looking pub – and then into Ouzel Valley Park and thence down to Walton Hall.

Met up with some of the Book Group on Friday 4^th for an early supper at Tampopo before they went to see We Need to Talk About Kevin – I declined to go as I’d rather read the book and suspect the film might give away crucial plot twists. I’m already slightly prejudiced against the book simply because of the number of people who’ve told me it’s the most amazing book they’ve ever read, but in fairness I suppose I shouldn’t let that put me off. After they’d departed I went to meet Ruth who had spent the day and previous night in Jersey as part of a bid presentation team. It seemed to have gone well and I was amused to learn that an analogy with Reservoir Dogs had apparently been used towards her and a male colleague, who were evidently the most sharply-dressed members of the team.

On the Saturday, Ruth rashly offered to do something that I fancied doing, so I made her take a meandering bus journey over to Newbury (she cracked towards the end, saying it was the most boring bus journey she’d ever been on, but prior to that had fun critiquing the bus’ design, seat covers etc as part of recently-developed interest in public transportation services thanks to new job). Once arrived, we had lunch at a crowded café near the clock tower before taking a walk up to Donnington Castle, a local historic site that we used to visit as kids – the photo on the left of me taken there in 1993 was the last occasion I’d been there, partly because the Newbury Bypass was constructed in the interim and I hadn’t fancied discovering that the castle was now in the middle of a traffic island. Of course, it isn’t – in fact the bypass isn’t visually intrusive and can barely be seen from the castle, although it can be heard, and the traffic can be seen in the distance if you know which direction to look in. We had a quick mooch around and a young couple took this photo of us, in return for me taking a couple of them.

Went for my first Information Office team lunch on Friday 11^th to mark Emily’s departure on maternity leave. Emily is a fit and healthy type who looks as though she’ll just have the baby and then pop out for a game of tennis, so hopefully all will go well. During the journey over in Bart’s people-carrier, the topic of conversation turned to Radio 4 and Emily expressed surprise when I remarked that I rarely listened to it (though I know people who do) and commented that I was just the sort of person whom she would have thought would be an avid listener. Was unsure whether to be flattered at seeming an intelligent, erudite sort of person, or insulted at seeming bookish spinstery type. For the sake of mental calm I opted for the former thought.

Have been falling a bit behind with T183 due to pressure of sheer idleness, but have more or less caught up and have just submitted my interactive computer-marked assignment (‘iCMA’), the first of the two pieces of assessment for the course, though it only counts for 10% of the marks. Have also, in a fit of enthusiasm, signed up for course M255 – ‘Object-oriented programming with Java’ – which starts in February, partly at the suggestion of my line manager Judith who is keen for all of the returns team, except for Hoa who’s already an expert, to have a chance to upgrade their programming skills. Thought I might as well take the opportunity. Also it sounds, to me at least, more interesting than becoming an Accredited PRINCE2 Practitioner, which more or less everybody I worked with at CfBT now seems to be – can hardly open up someone’s LinkedIn page without being greeted by this as the front line. Have to remind myself it is actually a genuine qualification and not at all to do with NLP, eye-tracking etc, but still fight urge to scoff derisively.

We had Ray and Claire over to dinner last Saturday, as we were conscious that we hadn’t had people over for a while – if nothing else, it prompts one to clean the bathroom, tidy up, put rabbits in fresh clothes etc. I did most of the cleaning and tidying as Ruth spent the earlier part of the day lying down, in deference to having run up an £80 bar bill in Islington with Denise the previous evening. Luckily she recovered in time to cook the dinner, so the rest of us got to sit and drink wine and eat the pieces of breadstick that I had gathered together – don’t actually remember dropping a tin on top of them, but there you go. I can’t remember what we talked about, but it was midnight when they left so it must have gone well.

Gail and Rob appeared on Saturday afternoon and borrowed about 20 back issues of LivingEtc, apparently to get some inspiration for their dining room. Bit surprised as I had thought Gail’s tastes tended towards the classic, but will be interested to see what comes out of it.

Made a few attempts at the weekend to progress our attic workroom plan. Having worked out the lengths of MDF that (we think) we need, went to Homebase on Saturday morning to investigate their board-cutting service and had a brief and not particularly satisfactory conversation with a spectacularly uninterested member of their staff. As it happened, their cutting machine was broken anyway so we couldn’t have done anything. On Sunday morning we briefly toyed with the idea of driving across town to B&Q to check out the service there, but became dispirited even thinking about it so didn’t bother. Instead, had a bit of an online search and located a few online cutting and delivery services, so am now awaiting a quote from one of them. Ruth said some sensible things about it all being a learning process, which is of course quite correct.

Took a day’s leave on Monday to go to my former colleague (and indeed, line managee – is that a word?) Katrina’s funeral at Reading Crematorium, in company with a number of other current and former CfBT colleagues. Katrina and I formed the Data Management and Research Strand for the year or so before I left CfBT, and following my departure she comprised it herself (hopefully, in a reduced capacity – I like to think I contributed something to the arrangement) for the further year or so until the Fast Track contract closed. She continued working at CfBT on a smaller project before being made redundant earlier this year, evidently shortly before she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Something of a bummer.

By way of celebrating death and new life on the same day, I met up with Kate at the Alto Lounge in the afternoon, the first time we’d met up since she gave birth to her baby Oliver in July. I was duly introduced to Oliver, who seemed a fairly placid baby though Kate muttered darkly about him putting that on in company. Kate’s quest to rid their house of husband Steve’s apparently vast collection of computers through the ages appears to be ongoing – despite having actually donated some to a computing museum, there are evidently a number still in the house, including the attic and a good portion of the garage. Blimey. Taking any number of them to the tip is apparently difficult as the tip men assume that you’re a commercial concern offloading stock. Prior to their marriage Kate was apparently training Steve to say, by way of explanation “I was a computer geek, but now I have a girlfriend”.

Cookery; Thai food; Samhain

Met at Lesley’s flat on Thursday to discuss Sarah Waters’ The Night Watch, and eat spaghetti (actually penne) Bolognese with lashings of garlic bread. There seems to be a slightly worrying new trend emerging whereby whoever is hosting Book Group actually cooks food, as opposed to opening packets of crisps and dip or handing round the takeaway menu. Not sure how I’m going to handle this when it’s my turn, but given whole ongoing Milton Keynes extravaganza will probably be able to plead lack of time.

Seasonal display

Ruth and I went for an unnecessary dinner at the Suwanna on Friday evening, almost directly following on from one of our periodic vows to spend less money on eating out. Lovely food as always, especially the Weeping Tiger – the comment about the restaurant’s being overlit is about the only part of the eatmytown review above that’s accurate. The Old Siam in The Walk is more atmospherically lit, but I had indigestion for the rest of the evening the last time I ate there. I like the Thai Corner on West Street, but Ruth doesn’t. What can you do?

Marked Samhain this year by setting up a small display of black candle, mini pumpkin and autumn leaves on the coffee table at the flat – don’t have a fireplace here, but then the bunnies have ruled out fireplace displays anyway. Ray, who has become surprisingly enthusiastic about marking pagan festivals, came up for the evening to admire the display and mark the occasion. We didn’t indulge in any spells or incantations – largely because I don’t know any – but I read aloud the entry on Samhain from ‘Principles of Paganism’. This remarkable photograph (left) clearly shows a mystical beam of light emanating from my eyes, so something otherworldly may indeed have happened.