Farm machinery; amateur dramatics; tights

Excitement last weekend of Ruth coming up to spend a Whole Weekend in MK with me. We began the weekend with a drink in The Living Room, a quite smart bar on Midsummer Boulevard though, like so many places in MK, it gives the impression of being miles from anywhere. We followed this with dinner at Strada and the bus back to my flat. I had decided that I wanted to visit the Milton Keynes Museum on Saturday morning, so we duly got on the Wolverton bus and got off in an estate called Stacey Bushes, which seemed to be the nearest stop, and walked to the museum on the site of the former Stacey Hill Farm. For some reason, I had managed to get the impression that it housed some sort of archive of memories and footage of the New Town’s construction – which I would have been genuinely interested in – but instead it appears to chiefly house agricultural artefacts and other Old Stuff presumably salvaged from the old farm. It does have an exhibition of telephones through the ages, which was more interesting than it sounded. And we had a jolly nice toastie in the Granary Tea Room.

After the museum, we were obliged to walk into Wolverton as I didn’t have enough cash for the bus fare back into Central MK, and, inevitably, it would have taken us about an hour to walk. We spent most of the short time we were in Wolverton, between getting cash out and leaving again on the next bus, exclaiming at what appears to be the depressed state of the place and particularly of the Agora shopping centre, which occupies a prominent spot in what’s presumably Wolverton’s heart. We walked through this, as we couldn’t see a way around it – presumably when it was first built it was a vibrant sort of place, but in its current semi-derelict state it’s a bit of a blot on the landscape and its days are surely numbered. Here’s a picture of it – I didn’t take any for fear of seeming ghoulish. And a local news article from January of this year.

As an antidote to Wolverton, we had a quick mooch around the shops in central MK, including the inevitable trip to Hawes & Curtis for Ruth to purchase more posh shirts. Later we had an early supper of an experimental halloumi and lentil dish, which Ruth gamely ate, before heading to the Chrysalis Theatre to see an amateur production of Alan Ayckbourn’s Improbable Fiction. I have seen several productions of Ayckbourn plays, both amateur and professional, but can never remember which ones I’ve seen; they all seem to blur into one in my mind. Fairly sure I hadn’t seen this one before though - indeed it's one of his more recent efforts. It’s a moderately entertaining play, though should probably have been funnier than it was – the inevitable slow pacing and occasional inaudible speech that seems to accompany amateur theatre affected that a bit, though on the whole they weren’t bad. Indeed, one of the reasons I went was to check out the group, with the vague idea that I might take up amateur dramatics again. Still not decided on that one. The Chrysalis seems quite a nice facility though. Ran into Guy, who was there with his parents - back at work last week he told me that he had taken them to the Northampton Shoe Museum on the Sunday. Who knew there was a museum of shoes? Obviously there are many hidden delights in this area.

We went for a walk locally on the Sunday, up the canal a bit and into Ye Olde Swan at Woughton (pronounced 'Wufton') for lunch, followed by a hunt for the remains of Woughton medieval village, which I’ve seen signs to on my walk to work. You’d never notice them if it weren’t for the sign and noticeboard marking the spot. A shallow ditch marks the line of the village high street. The village was apparently deserted when the villagers moved west to the site of the current village of Woughton-on-the-Green. No one seems to know why.

We got into one of those ridiculous “is that tune x” “no it isn’t” arguments on Sunday evening after watching a particular TV ad – I forget what it was advertising – with the sinister result that we ended up watching a YouTube video of Terry Wogan’s 1978 ‘Top of the Pops’ performance of The Floral Dance. Something that should probably never be spoken of again. We still hadn’t resolved the argument after watching it, but were cheered up by the infectious beat.

Much as I am a notional supporter of the idea of supporting post offices, I consider it completely wonderful that one can now license one’s vehicle online. Just tap in the reminder reference number and pay for a new disc. Obviously one also has to have a current MOT and insurance, but you don’t any longer have to scrabble around actually having to find your insurance certificate and take it to a post office. The more general problem with exhortations to support post offices, butchers, local riflemakers etc is that they ignore the fact that a big chunk of the population works full-time, meaning that you can only support these institutions on Saturday mornings, and (if you’re like me) one doesn’t necessarily want to spend a large chunk of Saturday morning in the post office. Do get the feeling that society hasn’t caught up with the fact that many women aren’t free to do their shopping/dry cleaning/Post Officey admin at 11am on a weekday.

Went up to London on Saturday to meet Helen, after a year’s gap in get-togethers. Helen is currently suffering from an Achilles tendon injury, sustained while running (one of the reasons I carefully avoid running – clearly a dangerous activity) and wasn’t up to our usual level of walking around, so we met for lunch at the All Bar One just round the corner from Charing Cross station and spent a pleasant three hours or so. Helen relayed a tale of woe involving an unreliable builder, which reminded me that we’ve been really quite lucky with the chaps we’ve used so far – not that we’ve had any major building work done as yet, but I’m sure plastering could potentially go horribly wrong.

Walked back from Charing Cross to Paddington across the parks (Green and Hyde); much nicer weather than forecast apart from a brief shower, during which I effortlessly slipped on new Muji raincoat (‘effortlessly’ here = 10 minute session of fighting with raincoat while leaning awkwardly against tree). Stopped to marvel briefly at some pretty trees and take this photo, though almost got mown down by cyclists on rented Boris bikes.

Ray came round on Sunday morning for a late breakfast and to assist us (well, Ruth) with installing a new water feature centred around the granite orb purchased at Dobbies back in March. It’s now working a treat. We went to Homebase straight afterwards to acquire a couple of bags of stones to put around it.

Purchased a pack of tights from Waitrose a week or so ago, and was surprised to note that they now come with operating instructions, including a stern directive at the outset “To obtain the maximum benefit from your John Lewis Tights always ensure they are put on correctly”. This seemed ridiculous to me, but a quick Google search revealed a number of web resources devoted to how to do it properly, for example this and this; also a number of YouTube videos, which I’ve refrained from watching. My own advice on how NOT to put tights on might read as follows:

• Linger until late for work. Then grab tights from drawer, catching them on that fingernail you meant to file. 
• Try to unroll and separate tights. Catch tights again on fingernail, in several new places. 
• Force tights over feet and pull up. Discover that they are not straight over one foot. Take tights off and try again. 
• Pull tights on again and pull up. Encounter resistance. Swear. Tug sharply while cursing freely. Insist that tights are being made smaller than they used to be. 
• Eventually get tights in roughly correct position but discover crotch is at mid-thigh height. Resist taking tights off again; instead grab material and pull upwards. Delude oneself they now feel fine and go to work. 
• Spend morning tugging at crotch discreetly. Finally retreat to Ladies and adjust tights. Tights ladder from crotch to toe. Weep.

Continued home improvements; dentistry; Easter

During a fit of low blood sugar (my story), I was forced to break into one of the Lindt gold bunnies I’d bought for my parents for Easter. Ruth feigned outrage and insisted on taking this photograph of what remained. Waitrose has evidently got some deal on with Lindt, as our Caversham branch has been overloaded with gold bunnies, including ranks of them lined up in rows at the checkouts, looking vaguely sinister in a certain light. You can read the Lindt Gold Bunny Story here - apparently they’ve been around since 1952.

Attended my first M255 tutorial on 31^st March, in a dimly-lit room in the old part of Reading College. Seven of us present, six blokes and me. Picked up a few useful pointers, though not sure I’ll attend the next one at the end of May as that appears to be four hours long as opposed to two. Almost wrote a letter of complaint about the officious old git stationed near reception to direct OU students to their rooms, but in a later fit of compassion decided not to.

Ruth has now painted the rendered patio wall, taking advantage of the recent dry spell. Looks positively dazzling in the sun.

Floating shelves and new carpet

Spent 1 April painting the interior of the cupboard in bedroom 1, following plaster skimming the week before. Horrible job but managed to satisfactorily slap a couple of coats onto the walls and ceiling, as well as touching up the skirting. Ruth had a creditable go at putting up two floating shelves in the alcove to the left of the fireplace, and very nice they look too, though she ran into a problem on one side with soft brick and/or drilling into mortar, with the result that we won’t be loading them with anything like the alleged 25kg weight limit. They do look nice though. Ray advises us that it’s possible to buy a product from Screwfix called Stick-O-Plug or similar that helps out in such scenarios. For the moment, we’re adopting a deliberately minimal look.

Display of my work on Steppy will have to be saved for a future post, as His Gittishness (aka Harley) scratched the wet paint.

We were at home the following day to Rainbow Carpets (of Caversham – yes, we support local traders), who ripped up the old carpet in bedrooms 1 and 2 and laid some of the posh new cream-coloured quite-high-wool-content number that Ruth had picked out a few weeks earlier. Looks dead nice, though we are both paranoid now about removing shoes of any kind before entering the rooms. The photo shows the new carpet with Ruth’s inherited chest of drawers back in place. And the lovely if delicately-balanced floating shelves.

I had booked an additional day off on the Tuesday to 1) see my dentist Jill, who was as jovial as usual while flagrantly finding lots of work to do to compensate for the fact I hadn’t been to see her for a year. Am booked in to have two fillings done early in May – very small holes, apparently, but You Never Know. She also claimed one of my half-erupted wisdom teeth looked suspicious, and took an X-ray, to add to the various other X-rays that have been taken of them previously. Also 2) went up to Whiteknights at lunchtime for another lunch at Blandford’s with ex-Progress South Central staff – smaller numbers than the Christmas meal, but a very pleasant gathering. Ann, Godfrey and Paul are all enjoying various degrees of retirement; Little Emma is working in the Examinations Office in Whiteknights House and, one suspects, doing very well.

Visited the online OUSA Web Shop last week to purchase some past exam papers for my Java course (having just received an email with the exam date) and was amused to discover ‘Graduation Tapestries’ among the merchandise on offer. You can have either the OU Shield or the OU Coat of Arms. Don’t remember those being on offer at Reading. I may knock up a crude sampler at home perhaps.

Ruth and I spent the Easter weekend in a frenetic round of relative-visiting, starting with a lengthy drive to Cheddar on Good Friday to have lunch with Ruth’s grandmother. I had had a few qualms beforehand about driving to Cheddar on a Bank Holiday, which I had quashed in the interests of goodwill, but in spite of leaving Reading at 8.30am we didn’t arrive at Cheddar until 12.30. Admittedly we did have a c.30-minute stop off for a cup of tea, which with hindsight was perhaps foolish given that there were two sets of roadworks on the M4 and the M5 was almost at a standstill, leading to us leaving the motorway in frustration a junction early and having to trundle across country to Cheddar via, if I recall, such places as Yatton and Congresbury, as part of a procession of other cars who’d also thought it a good idea to take the cross-country route. Cheddar itself was packed with a queue of people awaiting the Gorge Tour Bus, but luckily Mrs Millard had booked a table for lunch at the corner café, so we were sorted.

After leaving Cheddar we headed up to my parents’ place where we enjoyed a fish pie for dinner, as Dad was observing a meat-free Good Friday, and learned that Emrys’ burial plot is already being prepared, although the poor cat isn’t dead yet. On Saturday morning Mum, Ruth and I had a pleasant jaunt around Hay before returning to the house to lunch on the hot cross bun pudding Mum had made the day before, but which none of us had been able to manage after dinner. I enjoyed a delightful late-afternoon bath (pictured), as I am still bath-deprived. Very impressed also to witness Dad baking what may have been his first cake (also pictured).

First thing on Sunday we set off for Newport to visit Dave, Hazel and new baby Nia, born early last Wednesday morning weighing in at a healthy c. 9 lbs. Nia is adorable though I fear I didn’t make a good first impression, as she was distinctly unsettled for most of the time I was holding her. Despite Hazel’s tactful remarks about probable hunger, I fear the generous squirt of ‘Coco’ I’d slathered on that morning may have been a contributing factor. At least Nia is too young to remember me as ‘the smelly lady’. At our next meeting will try to ensure I am smelling of talcum powder, rusks or similar.

Had to leave Newport after an hour to reach Ruth’s aunt’s house in Lambourn in time for Easter Sunday lunch, in the company of Gail and Rob. Mrs Spence had acquired a splendid-looking joint and managed to cook it to perfection. We followed it up with pudding and assorted Easter sweetmeats.

Exciting news for Reading last week, as the on-again off-again proposed IKEA development near junction 12 of the M4 appears to have finally been given the go-ahead. The development has seemingly been held up by spurious objections around traffic congestion and impact on the environment – the latter particularly puzzling given that the store is being built not on virgin forest but on the site of an existing derelict retail park, with the nearest residential development some way away. Bring it on, I say.

Sticking with Reading news: also delighted to read about the imminent loss of dignity to be suffered by the empty Simonds Bank building if it is forced to house Georgie Porgie's Buffet World. Tut.

Singing; marionettes; canal

Domesticity continues with attempts to choose a wardrobe for bedroom 2 - an exciting prospect, as I've inexplicably been managing with temporary clothes rails for the six years I've been living in the house. Ruth and I are agreed on IKEA's PAX range, but are struggling to fine-tune the exact types of sliding doors and inserts that we want. Given the proximity of my MK pad to a branch of IKEA, I was despatched on a Thursday evening a week or so ago to inspect various doors 'in the flesh', which I duly did and even managed to find a free member of staff to question about door widths. Weekday evenings are definitely the time to go. Paid the inevitable visit to the Swedish Food Market on the way out, where I purchased two boxes of intriguing-looking frozen potato products, including some potato pancakes which I'll definitely be buying again.

Wall of shelving in attic is now partly complete, thanks to a new and more efficient drill bit purchased from Drews the Ironmongers. My wall of artwork has also made some progress.

Last Thursday I accompanied Liz from the forecasting team to a lunchtime concert given by the OU Choir, largely devoted to the alleged 'world premieres' of two pieces by one William Bowie, an Edinburgh music teacher during the 1950s and 1960s. Both pieces were apparently degree exercises submitted for the composer's MMus degree in 1961. Evidently the OU Choir's conductor of 35 years (gosh), Bill Strang, was a pupil of Bowie's. (Strang's other interests, besides Bowie, include gay sexuality in music. Intriguing.) Most of the concert was fairly listenable - the first piece, an unmemorable arrangement by the conductor of a medieval hymn, was enlivened by what appeared to be the entire French horn section coming in late ('coming in' in the sense of literally coming into the room).

Spent Saturday morning working on my OU coursework for M255, as the first TMA deadline is coming up. Saturday's work included assembling this somewhat sinister-looking marionette named Mary. Completed Unit 4 on Saturday and am now working through Unit 5, which opens with a fun session on dialogue boxes.

Later on Saturday I went to check out Bletchley Leisure Centre, as Judith has spoken well of it and I've been meaning to check out the nearest place to swim locally. Bletchley centre is just as dispiriting on a second viewing as on the first, but the leisure centre is brand new and pretty nice. Wasn't expecting to get much of a swim given that it was a weekend, but managed quite a good session (given my current limited fitness levels).

On Sunday, Ray and I had a day of exploration of the Grand Union Canal’s passage through Milton Keynes. We started by taking the bus up to Wolverton, on the north-western edge of the town, and walking the canal’s meandering route back to my place in Simpson. Mostly pleasant, with a rural stretch just past New Bradwell where the canal makes a dog leg north towards Haversham and the ruins of the Church of St Peter. Back into the town then past the attractive-looking Linford Manor Park and a couple of nice-looking pubs including The Black Horse at Great Linford. Unfortunately, the first pub we passed at anything remotely nearing a legitimate lunchtime was The Gifford Park, a member of the ‘Sizzling’ chain, which we bypassed as too depressing and pressed on. Canal-themed points of interest included the Grafton Street Aqueduct, built in 1991, and the plaque marking the site where the long-defunct Newport Pagnell arm left the canal. We ended up lunching at The Barge at Woolstone, and after lunch took a brief detour back on ourselves to visit the Cathedral of Trees, planted in 1986 in an outline based on Norwich Cathedral. Quite nice – must go again later in the year when all the leaves are out.

Intrigued by a posting on the OU Noticeboard today headed 'Geiger counter needed'. The posts are usually from people wanting to flog outgrown baby stuff, the contents of their garage etc or wanting recommendations for garages, dentists and such. Also, tomorrow is the AGM of the OU’s Belly Dance Club. Lots going on.