Theatre; Newport; restored hearing

Bit of culture on 2nd April by going to see Peter Morgan’s play The Audience at the Gielgud Theatre, with Helen Mirren and assorted others. Most annoyingly, my continuing hearing loss (at the time) interfered with the play rather more than I had been expecting – not sure why I’d been imagining that it wouldn’t, but having paid £60 for a ticket to what was apparently a rapidly-sold out production, I was unwilling not to go. Although Ruth is more of a politics/history fiend than I am, I enjoyed what I could hear of it, especially the scenes between HM and Harold Wilson. The tall and distinctive-looking Haydn Gwynne seemed slightly odd casting to play Mrs Thatcher, but who knows what these things are based on.

Pre-play we went for an early dinner at Brown’s on St Martin’s Lane, an establishment obviously well set up for pre-theatre suppers. Ruth’s faith in Brown’s had been shaken by apparently mediocre food and service in the branch that opened on Reading’s Oracle a year or so ago, but this latest visit evidently served to restore it: the gammon and mash she had was apparently excellent and my crab and prawn linguine I had was one of the nicest seafood pastas I’ve had.

Booked the day off on the 5th for a general mosey down in the Newport direction, though ended up having a rather less cultural and constructive day than I’d originally intended. Started off early and took the AA Route Planner’s advice on the most direct route to Bristol, via the A420 from the Botley Interchange down to Swindon. Made my way to Cribbs Causeway and breakfasted at Carluccio’s, followed by a couple of hours mooching around the shops. Then drove across to Newport where I had managed to book my first £29 Premier Inn room (a reminder once again that I am quite easily pleased) at the branch near junction 24 of the M4. In fact, ‘near’ is almost an understatement, as the hotel couldn’t be any closer to the motorway without actually being on it, but that didn’t bother me overly as I hadn’t booked it for the views. Had meant to go out in the afternoon after check-in but the lure of a leisurely bubble bath and free (well, free initially anyway) wi-fi caused me to become shamefully overcome with laziness.

Rose early on the Saturday determined to actually do something, and parked near my brother’s house on Chepstow Road and walked into the centre of Newport intent on breakfast and sightseeing. Looked out the Java Coffee House on Charles Street, which I’d noted online somewhere while looking up places to go in the area – coffee wasn’t perfect but was at least of a decent strength. Extremely friendly staff who asked what I was doing in the area, regaled me with the latest developments and controversies affecting Newport town centre, and suggested various things I could do, though many of them involved leaving Newport - the Roman extravaganza at Caerleon seemed a popular recommendation. In the end I walked up from the cafe a short though quite steep distance to St Woolos Cathedral, as somewhere Mum had mentioned, and had a mooch around - quite peaceful, probably because I was the only person there.

There's been a church on the site since around the fifth century, when one Gwynllyw built a wattle and daub structure there. NB although the blurb has it that 'Woolos' is a corruption of Gwynllyw, it sounds less a corruption than an abandonment of attempts to pronounce it ("Gwynllffx ... Gwyncchhh ... sod it, Woolos").

After exhausting the cathedral's charms I made my way back down into the town and had a quick mosey around the museum, before heading out to the riverbank and taking a walk down what looked like quite a new riverside walkway, in the direction of the Transporter Bridge, which appears to be the city's most advertised attraction. I didn't make it quite as far as the bridge, as it's a fair way out of the town, but reached a point where I could take some rather underwhelming photos of it. It's an intriguing structure though seems a faff of a way to cross a river. The gondola appears to have a little turret on it, which is kinda cute. It was actually moving across when I viewed it, but isn't really visible on any of my photos - better photo on the Wikipedia page above.

Post-sightseeing I made my way back to Dave's house to join various of our and Hazel's families for Nia's first birthday party. Mum had gone positively wild with the Betty Crocker and had produced two large cakes, one chocolate, one carrot, plus a batch of caramel fairy cakes. Met Hannah's new beau Henry, who seems like a nice chap. Received advice from Mum's cousin Jonathan on ear syringing (apparently he has been having his done regularly since he was about 12) and from Uncle Ian on whether my next career move should possibly be getting into the online ancestry data business. Food for thought I guess.

Had ears syringed on Tuesday 9th, after returning to the Red House Surgery once the two-week olive oil sentence was up to demand some form of more concerted action. A rather less gentle and pleasant procedure than I had been expecting – for some reason had been imagining a soothing influx of warm water, whereas the actual procedure is more akin to a jet wash – but certainly it immediately restored my hearing. Returned to the office where I was almost deafened by the fan on Victoria’s PC.

Went for a Friday night dinner with Ruth at Quattro last Friday - I have been resisting Quattro for a while as the food isn't really good enough to justify what's always around a £45 bill (though doubtless it would help if we guzzled less wine). It is, however, a local Italian, though it doesn't quite fit my romantic desire for an old-fashioned neighbourhood Italian with naff decor and candles stuffed into straw-wrapped Chianti bottles.

Walked up to Whiteknights on Sunday afternoon to one of the Harris Garden Open Days - not sure Ruth had been banking on the circa 1 hour walk up there, but I managed to insist that I needed the exercise. We compensated on arrival by going for immediate tea and cake from the Red Cross ladies before actually looking at any plant life. The gardens still had something of an emerging from winter look about them, but we got to see inside the walled garden - which had much the same look, but the old walls are quite atmospheric. Never been in there before as it always seemed to be shut the times I went into the gardens as a staff member. When boredom struck Ruth got the bus home to have her hair cut (amazingly, Karin turned up this time) while I walked down to Cemetery Junction to visit Claire and spent a couple of hours drinking more tea. Noted on the way that Bridges Hall appears to be being demolished; also noted that this handsome house on Hamilton Road is still for sale - despite being labelled on Rightmove as a 'Premium Listing', it's actually been for sale for some time. Hamilton Road contains some sizeable Victorian properties but is on the whole rather less primped and preened than roads of similar properties in Caversham Heights - it's probably the student element and the proximity to C. Junction. Still, if it comes down by a few more bob, I'll buy it.

Out in Bletchley; Skirrid; technomarvels

First off, must note that Ruth recently purchased this weird bookcase from John Lewis, one of those cunning pieces of book storage that makes it look as though your books are floating in mid-air. Not a look I’ve ever regarded as essential for my books, but Ruth enjoys these sorts of thing. The resulting appearance does seem to have taken her aback a little. More of a man bookcase??

Another work night (well, early part of the evening) out recently, this time at the Rose of India in Bletchley, apparently Hoa’s favourite MK curry house. My initial impressions of Bletchley as an abjectly dispiriting place haven’t been significantly altered by the few subsequent occasions I’ve visited it, and not on this one either. Matt had suggested the Enigma Tavern for a pre-dinner drink, a modern and none-too-salubrious looking establishment close to the bus station (the pub's website is a good deal smarter than the pub itself). I turned up there at around 6.45pm to discover him sitting vaguely nervously in a corner of the pub, well away from the only other clientele who were a cluster of locals standing around the bar. Apparently I’d just missed the “family from hell” – two drunkenly antagonistic parents who had just been shepherded off home by their circa eight-year-old daughter. We had a couple of drinks and then made our way with some difficulty (due to lack of adequate directions, rather than drunkenness) to the restaurant, where we joined six or so others from the office. Very nice food – I had a lamb dish, whose name I’ve forgotten, and a stuffed paratha – have got very into the latter. The restaurant is nothing much to look at from the outside and is in a pretty down-at-heel area, so just goes to show that’s not an indicator of the quality of the food. Well, perhaps sometimes it might be.

Worked through the Great British class calculator on the BBC website today to discover I’m apparently ‘Technical middle class’. A bit younger than the supposed average. Obviously I resent the suggestion that I faff around on Twitter of an evening rather than listening to French horn concertos.

The Skirrid (the hill, not the inn)

Spent a couple of days over the first half of the Bank Holiday weekend visiting my parents. Mum and Dad’s house was surrounded by a moderate amount of snow, though there wasn’t much in evidence until we were within a few miles of their house – they are evidently inhabiting some sort of microclimate. We lazed around for most of Friday, though Mum and Dad did go out for a brief stroll in the afternoon. Am afflicted by something of an energy dearth recently which I attribute to the low iron reserves with which I have recently been diagnosed, and am now munching a daily diet of iron supplements in order to correct. On the Saturday we went for a stroll around the nearby village of Llanvihangel Crucorney, largely to have a bit of a snoop from the outside at a house for sale there, and then more of a snoop at most of the other houses in the village, followed by a bit of a circular walk ending up back at the Skirrid Inn, where we had lunch.

The Skirrid Inn

The Skirrid is, apparently, reputed to be haunted – indeed, next to the table where we sat was a framed certificate from the South Gloucestershire Paranormal Investigation Team, certifying that the inn had successfully been investigated for the presence of paranormal activity and/or the presence of spirits. Disappointingly, it didn’t state whether any had actually been found. I’ve a feeling the Skirrid was featured on TV recently in one of those paranormal programmes that I don’t of course watch but happened on to accidentally while searching for the news. The TV crew appeared to be skulking about in the attics, so perhaps they’re the really haunted bit.

On the Saturday night we watched another out of Mum and Dad’s Hammer box set, this time One Million Years B.C. A clever choice given my continuing and increasingly irritating hearing loss, given that it’s the first film I’ve ever seen that contains no dialogue, merely ninety minutes of grunting noises and assorted posing and writhing. On the way back on Sunday we stopped off at Ruth's aunt's house for lunch, and to exclaim over the amount of weight her dog Bertie appears to have gained. Pet-themed talk continued when we collected the rabbits from Reading Rabbit Rescue and had a long chat with Sandra about Lola's health and Harley's recent boorish mounting behaviour.

Had originally planned to meet Ray for an energetic canal walk or similar on the Monday, but in the end that didn't come off, due to my reduced energy levels and his surprising new enthusiasm for technology - on turning up at the flat mid-morning he pulled out a brand new Galaxy S III and 7" Galaxy Tab 2, both in a fetching shade of red, and asked if we could go somewhere with wi-fi so that he could get set up. We duly whiled away an hour or so in John Lewis in CMK, before going on to the 3 Store so that he could sign up for a new MiFi deal - joking aside, the latter seems bloody marvellous, so much so that I've signed up for a similar deal myself. Back at the flat he managed to get online with it and watch an entire episode of Dr Who on iPlayer. What luxury. If this works out I shall consign T-Mobile and their sodding Fair Usage Allowance¹ to history.

Later on we watched three episodes of the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice, which I acquired on DVD recently in HMV's closing down sale and hadn't watched for a good while. It's very enjoyable viewing, though in my opinion the 2005 Joe Wright film is better cast, and I'm slightly hampered by never having fancied Colin Firth.

Put out an OU Noticeboard plea recently for information on Korean food stockists in Milton Keynes, in the hope of finding a local kimchi supply. Was somewhat surprised at the level of response and now have several recommendations, one of which, Hoo Hing, I followed up the other Sunday: enormous and freezing cold warehouse on an industrial estate - I spent quite a while wandering around looking for the refrigerated stuff, before realising that the whole shop was the refrigerator. Queued to pay for my goods behind three women dressed in coats and woolly hats - speculated that they'd put them on to come into the shop.

¹ T-Mobile's Fair Usage Policy allows you to stream approximately 30 seconds of video before telling you That's Quite Enough and to go and do something more constructive instead. I never was fond of the Why Don't You Gang.