Walk near Kintbury with Ray, 6.4 miles

Ray left the Thames & Kennet Marina at the beginning of October and is now berthed at a very nice mooring at Kintbury. He has been bumbling about up near Froxfield for the past few weeks but returned to his mooring at the weekend, so I went over on Sunday morning to meet up for a walk. It was a lovely sunny autumn day after a week of mainly depressing dank weather.

We walked through Kintbury and turned along Wallingtons Road. The road eventually becomes a private driveway to St Cassian's Centre, but there's also a footpath leading straight ahead towards woodland, which we took.

Wallingtons Road looking back towards Kintbury

The woodland - Catmore and Winterly Copses - is private but there are a couple of footpaths through it. We turned onto one leading right towards what apparently used to be Wallingtons Manor, but since the 1970s has been a Catholic youth retreat centre called St Cassian's Centre. It's an attractive house though I couldn't get a picture of it in a very good light.

Catmore Copse

St Cassian's Centre

We crossed a field with some cattle in it and passed the handsome Inglewood Farmhouse, then followed the path around the back of the former Inglewood Health Hydro, now a retirement village.

Field

The retirement village at Inglewood

We crossed a minor road and walked down a lane leading through parkland and coming out onto Hungerford Road. Turning left here you pass the gates and lodge of Hungerford Park. The house was demolished in 1960; this piece has some history and photos.

Lane

Gates and lodge to Hungerford Park

We followed the road over the cattle grid onto Hungerford Common. Ray had been hoping we might be able to take a path off to the right and get down to the canal via a tunnel under the railway, but if there is one such, it's not public access as we couldn't find anything and ended up having to walk to the road bridge that crosses the railway and canal near Dun Mill Lock. We joined the towpath there and made our way back to Kintbury. A couple of miles more than we'd intended but a lovely day for a walk.

Walking over Hungerford Common towards the bridge

Returning along the canal towpath

Approaching Kintbury

Our route below showing start and end point in Kintbury. Hungerford top left.

More books I have read recently

'The Madness of Crowds' by Douglas Murray

A couple of issues in particular over the last year or so seem to have tipped me into a bit of re-evaluating what I had thought were my personal politics. As a Guardian reader and (mostly) Lib Dem voter for most of my adult life, my newly-minted subscription to The Spectator comes as something of a surprise to myself - and to the people I’ve mentioned it to, seemingly. My friend Steve suggested The New Statesman as a more palatable alternative, but I won’t be swayed and frankly am enjoying feeling a bit naughty. And it's a good magazine (which obviously isn't to say that I agree with everything in it, nor will I be taking advantage of the Christmas subscriber offer of a set of Countryside Alliance Christmas cards).

(Actually I’m a former member of the LDs, not just a voter, but I won’t be rejoining unless they pick less idiotic hills to try and die on.)

My recent foray into Douglas Murray’s writings and commentary comes sort of as a result of the above. This book is a lively and readable discussion/demolition of ‘identity politics’ (the idea, say, that the fact that one is black, or gay, or a woman, is somehow an indicator of one’s political and other beliefs), of ‘intersectionality’ (a term that baffles me but one I’d come across on Twitter) and of ‘cancel culture’. Murray divides the book into four main chapters: ‘Gay’, ‘Women’, ‘Race’ and ‘Trans’, interspersed with shorter discussions of (what he argues are) the Marxist foundations of social justice campaigning, the impact of technology (social media in particular) and a well-placed discussion headed ‘On forgiveness’, which discusses a few examples where people’s careers have been severely impacted, if not ruined, by one or more ill-advised tweets they may have put out some years earlier and asks, given that the internet will never forget, ‘how, if ever, is our age able to forgive?’.

Murray’s thesis is that the legitimate human rights campaigns behind his four main chapters had more or less reached the point of victory, but then – using a train metaphor – careered off the tracks and through the crash barrier. He seems to identify the financial crash of 2008 as a spur for speeding up the appearance in the mainstream of previously fringe ideas (when the economy goes bad, we become vulnerable to bad ideas). These include identity politics, where a particular characteristic is assumed to be the only relevant attribute of its holder. Also intersectionality, which seems to refer to the existence of interlocking oppressions, which Murray argues convincingly leads to a bizarre sort of oppression Olympics. And there’s much (and timely) discussion of the set of tripwires now laid across the culture that can explode someone’s career seemingly in an instant:

‘[we are] waging a constant war against anybody who seems to be on the wrong side of a question which may itself have just been reframed and the answer to which has only just been altered’

‘The Madness of Crowds’ was first published last year; this is a re-issue with a new afterword dated July 2020. It’s an extremely articulate and engaging book. That’s not to say that there weren’t a few bits where I either didn’t follow or didn’t see the connection; a couple of examples: I’m not sure about the idea that a focus on intersex conditions should be the starting point of the trans debate; the extensive quotes at the end of the ‘Gay’ chapter from Daniel Mendelsohn’s ‘The Elusive Embrace’ are interesting, but I felt they sat slightly oddly against the rest of the chapter – or possibly I just didn’t get what Murray was trying to say through them. And the Marxist stuff was a bit lost on me, most likely because I know little about Marxism. But the book as a whole is an elegant and head-on treatment of some concerning contemporary trends, and highly recommended.

'Blue Sky July' by Nia Wyn

Welsh writer Nia Wyn’s reflections on living with her son Joe’s cerebral palsy. The book is based on her diary entries during the first seven years of Joe’s life. Seemingly Joe was born healthy but suffered a catastrophic brain injury shortly after birth – Wyn relates the change in her child’s cry before and after – and a subsequent brain scan reveals extensive damage. Wyn and her partner are told that Joe is blind, will never walk or talk and in fact won’t even know them. Wyn is, understandably, less than keen to accept this verdict and throws herself into an exhausting round of daily therapies, visits to ‘healers’, etc.

I had some sympathy for Nia’s (by the end of the book, ex) partner Alex, as he feels increasingly frustrated and excluded as Nia retreats into a world comprising entirely of her son and the exhausting series of therapies – Wyn does note at one point ‘the therapies are ridiculous, out of control’. However, it’s in their specially adapted ‘light room’ that Wyn first observes Joe moving his fist towards the light, and she suspects that he might not be blind after all – she sees a different eye specialist who thinks that Joe is not blind but that he does need some cataracts removed. (That bloody eye doctor at the first clinic! If Wyn’s account is accurate, her behaviour seems appalling.)

I assume part of the medical staff’s aim was not to build up false hopes in Joe’s parents, but from Wyn’s retelling it does sound as though they perhaps went too far the other way – the child would have been completely written off had it not been for Nia’s determination that he wouldn’t be. By his seventh year, Joe can see OK (though he wears glasses), can get about with a walker and can talk after a fashion. Wyn herself has had some therapy and effectively conveys how she reached a greater acceptance of her son’s disability, albeit not an acceptance of the original damning verdict – sort of a meeting in the middle, I guess. She eventually abandons following up every rumoured miracle cure and her overwhelming desire to heal Joe gives way to a focus on enjoying spending time with him and doing those activities he enjoys.

‘Blue Sky July’ was published in 2007.

'The Lazarus Strategy' by Norman Lazarus

Newly-published book by an 80-something retired doctor. South African-born Lazarus retired in his fifties, though returned to academia aged 70 to carry out research at King’s College London into healthy ageing, which by all accounts he is still doing. This book is aimed at anyone over 50, though primarily at people in their fifties as Lazarus has it that it’s then that you’ve really got to start focusing on your health if you want a healthy old age (he comments acidly on middle-aged people giving out advice to oldies, when many of the problems we associate with old age would, he has it, be avoided if fifty-somethings followed their own advice earlier).

Lazarus argues that ageing is not in itself a disease and doesn’t have to be accompanied by ill-health – it’s all the stuff we do to ourselves that does that. Even though we may be living longer these days, he argues that that’s not enough in itself if we spend the last ten years of our lives taking a shedload of medication and generally being a burden on the state and our families – he presents the notion of ‘healthspan’, as opposed to ‘lifespan’. A key tenet of the book is that many diseases are not due to the inherent ageing process but are largely the result of our behaviour and lifestyle choices (‘Our lifestyles determine the state of our bodies’).

Lazarus presents his healthy ageing ‘trinity’: consisting of Exercise, Food and The Mind, three fundamentals of behaviour all of which, he argues, need to be kept in sync. Every fifty-something needs to take up a form of exercise which they enjoy and can therefore do long-term – evidently long-distance cycling in his case, but thankfully he reckons that walking’s also fine if you do enough of it. He stresses the need to maintain basic physical capabilities at a level that allows us to live independently and healthily, which includes from middle-age onwards fitting in resistance exercises. Somewhat disappointingly, he debunks any connection between exercise and weight loss, sternly noting that to lose weight you’ll have to eat less, and your calorie needs will decline with increasing age, so get used to feeling hungry. His personal story was that he realized in his mid-fifties that he was looking porky around the waist, dieted off the weight and has pretty much eaten like a bird ever since.

By all accounts Lazarus and his wife are as fit as they can be for people in their eighties. He does, however, emphasise that however fit you are, the inherent ageing process will lead to a decline, and that this is natural (he started to notice a bit of a twinge in his knee while mowing his HECTARE-sized lawn, apparently). It’s all fairly uncompromising stuff but food for thought, and probably from my point of view a timely read.

'Fifty Shades of Grey' by E L James

'I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire.'

Hmm, arousing stuff. Well, soon-to-be university graduate Anastasia (‘Ana’) Steele evidently thinks so. She meets local CEO and entrepreneur Christian Grey when she goes to interview him for the student newspaper. Ana is overawed by Christian’s good looks and general aura of wealth and power; Christian is equally taken with Ana and in due course flies her in his private helicopter for dinner at his luxury penthouse apartment in a Seattle skyscraper. Once there, Christian shows Ana his ‘playroom’, a fully fitted-out BDSM chamber full of whips, shackles and the like that Ana mentally labels the ‘Red Room of Pain’. Grey confesses that he is a ‘dominant’ (clearly preferring this term to ‘sadist’) and invites Ana to be his submissive. Grey informs her that he won’t touch her without her written consent and presents Ana with a contract, an extensive list of rules including, among other things, that she must obey his every request immediately and without question, only wear clothing that he has personally approved and keep herself nicely clean and waxed at all times.

Much of the rest of the book is taken up with reasonably tedious email exchanges between Ana and Christian where they, among other things, negotiate the terms of the contract. Despite having informed Ana that he doesn’t do ‘vanilla’ sex, on discovering that Ana’s a virgin he decides he’d better do some with her as his conscience doesn’t allow him to have a virgin as a submissive. Ana enjoys the deflowering and they proceed to have lots of subsequent sex (in between sending each other emails). The book only actually features a couple of BDSM scenes if you don’t include the ‘punishment spanking’ that Christian administers in Ana’s bedroom (for rolling her eyes at him). They’re not too bad, actually – the least pleasant scenes are the aforementioned spanking and the scene in Christian’s parents’ boathouse. It’s suggested that Grey’s psychological problems are because he had a hard start in life – he was adopted aged four after being birthed by a crack whore, and subsequently seduced into a sado-masochistic relationship with a friend of his mother’s when aged fifteen.

It’s tedious and poorly written – no better written really than the Silhouette Special Editions I consumed in my teens. Some of Grey's annoying qualities are common among romance novel heroes - e.g. getting irrationally angry if Ana even talks to a platonic male friend - but he takes them a step further, even taking issue with Ana for arranging to visit her mother without consulting him first. He criticises all her clothes and her car, and insists on buying her new ones - and threatens to check that she's obeying him (“Don’t drive your Beetle again. I will know.”). Ana is shown throughout as questioning herself as to whether she should be with Christian, but then keeps getting uncontrollably sexually aroused whenever she is with him. James has clearly made some effort to try to make Christian attractive to female readers – as well as being good-looking and wealthy, he is shown repeatedly as assuring Ana that he won’t do anything to her without her consent – the idea of being forced to experience pleasure, I suppose, though he quite clearly also enjoys inflicting pain.

I don’t have strong moral views on BDSM provided it’s between consenting adults, but did find Christian fairly unpleasant. I assume his tortured past is supposed to make the reader feel intrigued and sorry for him, though it didn’t work on me. The man needs psychological help before entering into any sort of relationship. I had the sense throughout that it wasn't the BDSM per se that was the distasteful aspect of Christian and Ana's relationship, and interestingly the current Wikipedia entry on the book has the following, and links to an article in the Journal of Women’s Health:

'Several critics and scientists have expressed concern that the nature of the main couple's relationship is not BDSM at all, but rather is characteristic of an abusive relationship. In 2013 ... [a study was published] ... wherein multiple professionals read and assessed the books for characteristics of intimate partner violence, or IPV, using the CDC's standards for emotional abuse and sexual violence. The study found that nearly every interaction between Ana and Christian was emotionally abusive in nature, including stalking, intimidation, and isolation. The study group also observed pervasive sexual violence within the CDC's definition, including Christian's use of alcohol to circumvent Ana's ability to consent, and that Ana exhibits classic signs of an abused woman, including constant perceived threat, stressful managing, and altered identity.'

'Fifty Shades of Grey' was initially self-published as an ebook in 2011, though it did subsequently acquire a publisher and has sold extremely well. There are two sequels, 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed', neither of which I’ll be reading.

Walk to Sainsburys at the Hub, and back, total distance 7.9 miles

In an attempt to walk a decent distance so that I’d hopefully sleep better last night (this year is the first I’ve ever had trouble sleeping – could be the worldwide pandemic and associated restrictions, or could be my hormones – of all the things to collide with 2020), I chose to walk to a supermarket in the town centre rather than to my local Tesco. The walk is 3-4 miles depending on the route chosen, and it’s impossible to pick a route that doesn’t involve some trudging along redways (well, not without making it about 8 miles). To attempt to liven it up, I took some photos en route.

Outward route, 4.4 miles, via Bancroft and Bradwell

The footpath leading from Southern Way to the H2:

'MK Museum' sign, and an engine, at the junction of the H2 and McConnell Drive:

The remains of the Roman villa at Bancroft:

Some cute thatched cottages in Bradwell village:

Dull stretch of redway past the Rooksley Retail Park:

In central MK, crossing Silbury Boulevard:

And finally, approaching the Hub:

Return route, 3.5 miles, via Bradwell Common and Heelands

Fewer pictures on the return route, as a) I was carrying shopping slightly uphill and felt less inclined; and b) neither Bradwell Common nor Heelands is very scenic.

Through the windswept Hub after leaving Sainsburys:

Looking across Silbury Boulevard to MK Magistrates' Court:

Long final stretch heading north on the V6: footbridge with aqueduct beyond:

Well, that was it really. I balanced out the effects of the walk with tea and biscuits.

Lockdown(s)

Well, we in England are in lockdown again, but Boris has assured us that it’ll definitely end on 2 December, and we’ve no reason to doubt his word. Oh, wait.

Lockdown started on 5 November. I travelled to Reading last weekend to see Ruth under the ‘support bubble’ rules and noted that she had marked the date on the calendar (and her hair appointment was unfortunately cancelled, which caused some anguish). Additionally, all our weekend arrangements for November had a line through them and a terse ‘NOPE’ written in capitals alongside.

This lockdown is, thankfully, less strict than the first time round, which is something. I'm particularly appreciative of the 'bubble' rules and the 'unlimited exercise' stipulation. Unlike certain other parts of the UK, England never did have rules confining you to within a certain distance from your house, instead seeming to urge people to use some common sense (e.g. driving 10 minutes to take your kids to the park = fine; driving three hours to the Peak District = not fine). 

Not sure I'm comfortable longer-term though with the idea of the state giving us permission to sit on a bench (snip taken from the 'look what you're allowed to do this time' BBC link above). Have been struck this year by the realisation that my innate libertarian tendencies fit less well than I'd realised with the left-of-centre Guardian-type politics that I'd always assumed were my natural home. Plenty of time this year for personal reflection, if nothing else.

'Households' malarkey

Following a bit of an anxiety attack when lockdown was announced in March I skipped off to Reading to stay with Ruth at the house (catastrophizing that we’d be banned from seeing each other indefinitely if I didn’t – the ‘bubble’ rule wasn’t introduced until later). I stayed there for most of the lockdown period – the first continuous period we’d lived with each other in nine years – but we got on OK, probably due to being distracted from domestic minutiae onto bigger concerns.

After a couple of months we decided that we’d both be better off if we returned to our normal routine – plus I had already left my rented flat empty for quite some time by that point, albeit I’d been in touch with the agents to notify them – so I returned to MK. We’ve now officially ‘bubbled’ with each other, with an eye to any future lockdowns/’tier’ changes. We’re lucky in that we both live alone so are free to do this; I can’t imagine what it’s like for younger couples in (say) London where neither party can afford to live alone and therefore are prevented from seeing each other.

Running

Started off this year quite well, running with the Redway Runners’ ‘Gentle Step Up’ groups on Mondays and Wednesdays. Here’s a selfie I took before one group run in early March, where I was clearly feeling less than enthusiastic about it. Also did one, or possibly two, parkruns with Hai. When both parkrun and the RR meetups got clobbered by the lockdown, I decided that I’d have to try getting over my self-consciousness about running alone. I more or less have, helped by the variety of shapes, sizes and ages one sees out running. I’m now running two or three times a week, more or less regularly, though have had to switch to lunchtime runs now that it’s darker. I’m only running just over 3km at a time, but I figure it’s better than not doing it at all.

Ruth also took up running during lockdown while her gym was closed, and had some success working through the ‘Couch to 5K’ programme. Sadly, her gym hasn’t reopened, so she’s faced with having to join another one further away, or keep up the running.

Bloody devolution

Devolution is, obviously, a really great thing for all concerned (albeit that the Welsh voted 'yes' to it in 1997 by an even slimmer majority than the UK voted for Brexit). But for those of us with family in a different nation of the UK, things have been much more complicated than they surely needed to be. It’s been enough of a headache trying to keep track of lockdown rules in England, but Zoom calls with my parents over this period have been partly spent comparing what we’re respectively allowed to do (exclaiming that it’s so nice that we can now do X, before being told that the other party can’t yet do X, but can however do Y, which you can’t do). As I write this, my mother was originally due to visit me in Reading a week next Saturday – she has now been released from her lockdown, so is now free to travel, except that I’m now in lockdown, so she can’t. At least, I assume she’s free to travel; the First Minister does seem quite keen on restricting the Welsh populace to within a specified distance of their houses. 

Additionally, the Welsh are still not allowed anyone inside their homes apart from the other household in their 'bubble'. Who knows whether things will be any different by Christmas. My already heightened anxiety levels weren't helped by all the 'Wales Is Closed' publicity during the spring lockdown; probably just as well I had Ruth around during this period (Me: OMG I'M NEVER GOING TO SEE MY PARENTS AGAIN; Ruth: Yes you are. Now eat your dinner.). 

Waitrose new branding

I spent some of the earlier period of lockdown focusing on the really important stuff by kvetching about the rebranding Waitrose have done of all their products – away from a slick, modern-looking font (the chickpeas on the left below) to a pointless new one consisting of capital letters. Is this something to do with Brexit?

And this flour. TCHOH.

Knitting

Back in March/April, clearly desperate to have something distracting to do, I did some knitting, for the first time in many years. I discovered a partially-made hat I’d evidently started making for my old Teddy, so finished this. Mum has also done some knitting and made a blanket and pillow for Alys’ woolly rabbit, plus possibly other things.

I didn’t manage much else other than some frenzied rows on a piece of practice knitting I’d kept to practice different stiches on.

I considered making Ruth this charming bedjacket, but she didn’t seem enthusiastic.

Easter

We bought each other Easter chocolate. The Lindt bunny was of course mine; the Dairy Milk was Ruth’s. Ruth has common tastes in a couple of areas, chocolate being one. (Gravy being another – she actually prefers Bisto to gravy made from the joint. Bizarre, and a bit Toby Carvery.)

Duolingo

I’d used this cute language-learning app previously but downloaded it again at the start of lockdown and did a few weeks of ‘practising’ my (basic) German. My mum has also downloaded the app and has been using it to refresh her Welsh. I’ve advised her to turn off its notifications though as Duolingo does tend towards passive-aggressive messages if you miss too many days' practice; Mum says she got one the other day saying ‘Duolingo is sad’.

Folded bags

I folded my supply of Bags for Life into small triangles, following a YouTube video on how to fold bags into small triangles.

Home deliveries

Ruth and I selflessly supported a local business by ordering many takeaway pizzas from Papa Gee in Caversham (via Deliveroo). Their ‘puttanesca’ pizza is truly excellent.

This one sounds a bit weird though:

On returning to my flat in late May and going through the post, I was surprised to discover I'd been sent an HIV test kit, before realizing that it wasn’t for me but for the same-numbered flat in the block opposite. Of all the things to wrongly deliver. Unfortunately, having opened it without checking who it was addressed to, I was then too embarrassed to deliver it to its correct recipient. Ruth advised just handing it over while avoiding his eyes, but I chickened out even of doing that. I hope he managed to order another one.

Ancient spices

A sort out of the spice rack at the house revealed this surely record-breakingly expired jar of black onion seed. It must be the single jar remaining from the original spice rack, which I think was a present from Ray’s mother back in the 1990s.

Instagram followers

I now have a whole 40 followers on Instagram, though Ruth maintains disparagingly that lots of them must be bots.

Reading

Have managed to do more reading than usual this year, for obvious reasons and also because while at the house with Ruth we only had the one TV, so retiring with a book for a portion of each evening seemed the easiest compromise. Looking back at my records I’ve averaged two books a month and hit a high point of four in April. Still have quite a hefty ‘to read’ pile though.

Work

Like many companies, when lockdown was announced in March the OU switched everyone except a skeleton staff to working from home. Some groups of staff have since returned to campus, but no one doing my sort of role, as it’s considered that we can do that just as well from home. Indeed we probably can, and working from home certainly has some upsides, but personally I don’t want to be working from home full-time on a permanent basis. Hoping that some sort of ‘mix’ arrangement can be arrived at in future involving perhaps a couple of days a week in the office. The noises are hopeful, but we’ve been told we won’t be returning to campus at all until next spring, and encouraged to make our home offices as amenable as possible. (A colleague of mine did ponder whether he could ask for funding to build an extension to his house in order to achieve this, but I've a feeling that didn't go anywhere.)

Temporary workstation at the house

I’m luckier than many as my MK flat has a spare bedroom which provides a pleasant workspace. While at the house in Reading in the first couple of months of the lockdown, I set up on one end of the dining table (Ruth has her home office in the attic) and Ruth kindly lent me her second monitor as I’m used to working with two screens. Now that I’m back at my flat I’ve bought my own monitor, justifying it as an essential lockdown purchase, and have also upgraded my broadband from a cheapish TalkTalk deal to a BT Fibre package – more expensive, but three or four times as fast, which is great and improves video calls via Teams (work) and Zoom (family).

Workspace at my flat

As if lockdown wasn’t stressful enough, I decided to apply for a new job. It was an internal role that I had been aware would be coming up; the eventual timing was slightly irritating but I didn’t want to miss out on the chance to apply for it. As I had a few concerns about my past interview performances I booked a (virtual) session with an interview coach and had a number of sessions with Ruth where I practiced the ‘tell me about a time when’ questions beloved of competency-based interviews. The prospect of an interview via MS Teams had been a bit daunting but in the end the unusual setup was probably helpful as it lent a surreal air to the proceedings which actually removed some of the tension, especially when the head of the panel vanished just as I was finishing my answer to the first question (he reappeared a minute or so later, apologizing for the state of his broadband).

Interviewing as an internal candidate always has an additional layer of strangeness as you are often being interviewed by people who know you, as indeed was the case on this occasion. I can never actually decide whether that makes things easier or more challenging. Depends what sort of a reputation you’ve carved out thus far, I guess.

Ruth and I spent some time working out where I could sit that would ensure I had a neutral background and was adequately lit, and she came up with the idea of sitting by the window in the second bedroom and putting my laptop on the ironing board (as we don’t have a desk on the first floor). This felt slightly ridiculous but actually worked fine. When I confessed the setup to one of the panel afterwards, he assured me that he'd had no idea, which was a relief.

And in the event I did get the job, which I was mightily pleased about, so since early September have been a Statistical Analyst in the Data Science and Strategic Analytics team. So far it’s proving an agreeable change.

 

Roll on 2 December.