January round-up

Ruth's birthday on 3 January ended up being a bit understated as we were still stripping wallpaper. We had booked to go to dinner at Myalacarte, but cancelled in the end so that we could continue stripping longer and not have to finish early to wash, don frocks etc. I think we had a Domino’s pizza. The glamour.

Also on 3 Jan we dropped off Harley for a week’s stay at Reading Rabbit Rescue in order that he’d be out of the plasterer’s way (being a bit too prone to showing interest and hopping about dangerously under people’s feet). Sandra again raised the question of whether we were intending to get another companion for him, and we raised concerns that she’d have to be a female who wouldn’t bully him and banish him from the ground floor as per Willow. Sandra then, quite kindly, voiced her opinion that Harley is “a little bit of a sex pest”, and that some of his rougher treatment by females might essentially have been asked for. We felt similarly to how parents must feel who have been claiming to the headteacher that their child is being put upon by other children, only to be told their child is in fact a bit of a sod. Sandra mooted the idea of possibly pairing Harley with a younger female who had been neutered early, the theory being that such a female would not achieve full typical female dominance, unlike a female such as Willow who had come to full maturity prior to being spayed. Sandra did show us a few young females she had in, who were indeed cute, but Ruth was undecided so we didn’t push it. As at the time of writing she appears still undecided.

I returned to work on 4 January leaving Ruth in the company of Mark the plasterer. Returned home on 8 January to attend a hospital gynaecology clinic appointment, at Townlands Hospital in Henley. I was mildly surprised to discover Townlands was even still open, but indeed it is and appears to be undergoing a major refurb. The clinic – along with a few other clinics – was operating out of a portacabin, but the receptionist and other staff appeared to be coping admirably. Spent a mere 15 minutes or so with the consultant, Miss Vijayanand, who has referred me for another hysteroscopy under general anaesthetic, currently scheduled for 22 February. Apparently I also had the previous one in 2009 under her team, though I think I must have seen her underlings on that occasion.

Lodge of Friar Park with blue sky behind

The day of my appointment at Townlands was a gorgeous wintry morning such as we have had precious few of this winter. Stayed in Henley for a while after the appointment, going for an initial short walk, then for a second breakfast at Patisserie Valerie, then for a second slightly longer walk, by which time the day was dulling a bit. Enjoyed walking around Henley again though. Strange to imagine that I lived there now – seems such a long time ago. Tempus fugit, etc.

River near Marsh Lock

Mark has, as ever, done a beautiful job of plastering, though with the teensy hitch that the living room external wall appears to have a damp problem, which he reckoned we should get sorted before he plastered it. He gave Ruth contact details for two damp specialists, one of whom we now have a quote from. Slightly tedious as the necessary treatment of removing the existing plaster and applying whatever medication is required will delay the living room project for a while.

Still, here's the living room chimney breast, pre-plastering on the left and post-plastering on the right. The debate over whether or not to install a wood-burning stove (or, in our case, smokeless fuel-burning stove) is still ongoing, with me maintaining that the room is far too small, I hate the faux country cottage look and the house isn't cold enough, plus it would mean displacing Herbert, our dead classy Buddha head, while Ruth maintains that real fires are cosy and apparently I Just Don't Do Cosy. This usually leads to me countering that she doesn't understand tidy and clutter-free, and things descend from there. I have, in fact, given in on this one, in the interests of stopping having conversations about it, and said that she can have a woodburner installed provided she pays for it. To date, the process of choosing one is still ongoing though.


Prior to plastering, Ruth and I briefly considered trying to remove the hallway and living room radiators ourselves and duly watched a couple of YouTube ‘how to’ videos. Realised we needed shut-off caps for the TRVs, and tried to find the ones we’d presumably been given at the time the radiators were fitted. Couldn’t find them – Ruth has a nasty feeling she may have chucked them. Went to Screwfix to try to buy some more, but bought the wrong size. Eventually Ruth cracked and rang Aqua-King, the company who fitted both our boiler and the radiators, to come and take them off at the same time as doing a boiler service. They did, didn’t have the right cap and managed to flood the living room carpet. FFS. We might as well have tried it ourselves.

As a belated 50th birthday present for Ray, Ruth and I bought him a little fan that sits on top of his stove and blows warm air from the stove around the boat. I’d never heard of these and was a bit sceptical, but he seemed pleased with it claiming that he has heard good things about them from other boaters. He called later the day we delivered it to say that his bedroom appeared warmer than usual, so there we are. Here he is sticking his fingers in it, in possibly ill-advised fashion.

As of January, Ruth and I have taken out a joint membership of the National Trust, at my suggestion – she is considerably less enthusiastic about it and considers it a mark of staid middle-age. I pointed out that Hannah and Henry are NT members, but not sure this was regarded as a particularly convincing argument. Our membership came with a free gift of an absurdly tiny pair of binoculars, seen here next to a biro. We haven’t yet attempted to use them to spot any birds through - indeed I am not a natural bird-spotter, being far too impatient - but perhaps that may come. Eager to make a start at using our membership, I drove us to our nearest NT property, Greys Court, an attractive Tudor house between Reading and Henley, on Saturday 16th. We didn't go into the house, preferring a walk around the grounds as it was a beautiful day. The house doesn't have extensive parkland but has some attractive walled gardens, though they were naturally looking a bit understated in mid-January. Ruth is keen to return later in the spring to see the walled gardens again, which I am regarding as a first minor NT success. Now, of course, we just have to make good use of our membership by going to loads more properties.

Greys Court

Day in London with Ruth on Saturday 23rd. Caught the 205 over to the Old Street area and called first on Ruth’s intermittent boss Patrick and his girlfriend Barbara, who live in a flat on one of the side streets off Old Street. Patrick was Ruth’s line manager during her stint at HCT Group and, coincidentally, is again managing her during her current contract with Voiceability. Patrick – an American, though evidently something of an Anglophile – seems a very nice chap; indeed I have since taken to checking that Ruth is being nice to him, to a point where she may be regretting having introduced us.

Tea at Barbican Kitchen

After leaving their flat we made our way over towards the Barbican, via lunch at The Iskele on Whitecross Street. Lunch was underwhelming and somewhat indigestible – though perhaps I just chose the wrong thing – but we did like the décor with the lovely coloured lanterns.

We had gone to Barbican to see the exhibition ‘The World of Charles and Ray Eames’, though in the event we bodged it a bit – after paying the £14.50 to get in, we managed to fail to notice that the exhibition had a whole upper floor, so only got about half of our money’s worth. What we saw was interesting, though not all very accessible to people not already pretty expert on the Eameses and their activities. Ruth's and my knowledge of them pretty much extended to the famous lounger, so I was interested to see the photos of the houses they'd been involved in building, including their own. By the time we’d made it through the ground floor rooms we were, admittedly, flagging a bit – possibly due to lunch – and went for a cup of tea at Barbican Kitchen, before returning to Paddington via a brief visit to Heal's and Habitat on Tottenham Court Road.

January ended on a sad note with Uncle Dan’s death on 19th, followed by attendance at the funeral on Friday 29th at Westerleigh Crematorium. As I had already arranged to visit Mum and Dad for the Saturday and Sunday, took the Friday off work and incorporated this into the weekend. Set off, as often happens, rather later than I intended so having to abandon my tentative plan of visiting a National Trust property en route to start getting my money’s worth. The crematorium thankfully proved easy to locate, being not far from junction 18 of the M4. Met up with the parents, Dave, Hazel, Hannah and Henry, and we lurked in an ante room until Uncle Dan’s wife Jean and my cousins Owen and Robyn, plus their partners, joined us.

The short service featured two hymns, Lord of all Hopefulness and Cwm Rhondda – as Dan’s family had kept the numbers to immediate family only (in fact Dad had been obliged to check with Robyn that his offspring were actually invited) we only filled the first two rows, so the pallbearers filed into the row behind to flesh out the singing. This was a good thing though a little startling, and I had to struggle not to meet Hannah’s eyes at points or there would have been a risk of inappropriate sniggering. After the service, Jean and the others vanished to a nearby pub, and as only Mum and Dad had been officially invited to join them, the rest of us hung around briefly not too sure whether we should go along – eventually we decided against it and Dave, Hazel and I drove to a pub we’d passed on the way in and had a drink there.

After we parted I headed for the Premier Inn at Cribbs Causeway, where I had booked Ruth and myself in for the night, and successfully arrived with only minimal veering wildly across lanes waving at other drivers. I had arranged to pick Ruth up from Bristol Parkway and chose that evening to experiment with the satnav facility of Google Maps. As satnavs tend to do, it chose a route that was probably the most direct but not necessarily the easiest to someone not familiar with the city – the journey of what can only have been a few miles took me what seemed like a good 20 minutes of missing a crucial slip road and carrying on towards the centre of Bristol, finding somewhere to turn round and then doing the whole thing again, not helped by darkness and heavy rain. On about the third attempt I managed to be in the correct lane to take the slip road and sometime later actually managed to pull into the station forecourt, where I erroneously turned into the taxi rank, to immediate protest from taxi drivers, left and pulled into the bus station, yelling at Ruth – whom luckily I had spotted – to hurry up and get in. Left the station possibly on two wheels and managed to retrace the route back to the hotel, where I calmed down after a large glass of wine. We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant due to the rain and lack of familiarity with our surroundings.

The following morning we drove to the nearby Portway Park and Ride and took the bus into the city centre, where I went to meet Hannah for coffee and Ruth stayed on the bus as far as Cabot Circus for a spot of shopping. Spent a pleasant couple of hours with Hannah at the Boston Tea Party on Whiteladies Road, before walking back down into the city and locating Ruth in Waterstones. Headed to Abergavenny around midday and spent the afternoon at Mum and Dad’s – the plan had been for the four of us to have dinner at Abergavenny’s new branch of Prezzo on the Saturday evening, but Ruth managed to contract some sort of 24-hour stomach bug and ended up staying in the house, so Mum, Dad and I went on our own. Restaurant was certainly busy that evening so I hope it does well.

We got this flyer through the door recently from the estate agents Philip Baker. Personally I would be hoping to get a bit more than that for the house. Think this may need some re-wording.

Mop up of 2014

To close 2014, some potted snippets, chiefly from the blog-free period from August to the end of November. And a brief update on burglary closure.

Resolution of burglary case

Receiving the news of Barbara’s death on 4 January reminded me that this date was also an unhappy one in 2014, when I discovered the burglary at my flat at Old Groveway. To close the loop on that story, now that I am not in danger of prejudicing a trial:

I received the news some months back that Fraser, my former neighbour at 10 Old Groveway, had pleaded guilty to involvement in the burglary in December 2013, rendering a trial unnecessary. Within five minutes of discovering the break-in, I suspected some involvement on Fraser’s part, because as the window and door locks were all intact, the steep drop over the back of the patio rendered the low-ish wall over to Fraser’s patio the only viable escape route. At the time of the incident, the police would only tell me that my possessions had been found “at an address in Milton Keynes”, but I later learned that this “address” was in fact the house next door to mine.

Fraser apparently admitted to police later the same evening, while being cautioned for some sort of affray in the town centre – nothing like keeping a low profile after committing crime 1 – that there was a wad of stolen property at his home. An acquaintance of his was also questioned re the offence, and I gathered that police thought said acquaintance was the ‘brains’ behind it, while Fraser’s role was chiefly to allow access to my property via his. However, acquaintance had evidently taken legal advice and said “no comment” to everything he was asked, and unfortunately no fingerprints other than mine were found inside (obviously not his first burglary), so there was insufficient evidence to charge him. I got the impression the CID chaps were annoyed about not being able to nail first chap, and felt that Fraser was something of a victim himself and hadn’t the wit not to allow all manner of lowlifes access to his home (probably true - certainly, the whole time I lived there there appeared a constant stream of visitors, such that I was never sure who other than Fraser might actually live there).

As regards my other neighbours at Old Groveway: Christina, from number 12, evidently never any fan of Fraser, was visibly spitting feathers in the direction of no 10; Tony and Susannah, from number 11, had evidently befriended him and alternated feeding each others’ pets, and were visibly shocked at what they regarded as something of a betrayal – indeed, I almost had to prise a weeping and hugging Susannah off me in the car park shortly before I moved out and assure her that it actually wasn’t her fault and that I didn’t hold it against her.

I had to return to the police station several weeks after the incident to provide an “emotional impact statement”, which is apparently given to the judge to provide more supporting ballast. These statements are evidently the police’s opportunity to balance sticking to the facts with a bit of artistic licence – my volunteering that after the burglary I didn’t feel safe staying at the flat provoked the following:

POLICE: “So, would you say you can never trust anyone again?”
ME: “Erm, well no, I don’t quite mean that exactly ...”
POLICE: “Well, we’ll put that anyway.”

TVP sent me a form to fill in to submit a claim for compensation, which I did, but haven’t received anything. Don’t feel I can complain too much as the police did warn me it wasn’t guaranteed; also, given that I did get the majority of my stuff back and had a reasonable payout from my contents insurer, I consider myself pretty lucky.

'Acting up'

Shortly after my contract was made permanent back in June, received the news that my line manager Judith would be stepping into Nick’s shoes as Director of Information Office following his retirement at the end of August. Judith’s stepping up was intended to be on an ‘acting’ basis until a replacement was found, as a recruitment round earlier in 2014 had failed to find a suitable candidate.  As a result of this, found myself being asked if I would head up the Returns team, similarly on an acting basis, to cover for Judith. Partly flattered at being thought capable of managing the team and leading on the October HESA return; partly wary at having to take on the management of four other analysts, two of whom were at the time still in probation. The latter has been a bit of a trial, though the colleagues concerned are all perfectly nice, and I can’t say that staff management is something I’m particularly enamoured of, though I suppose many others also end up doing it because it’s inflicted on them. Judith has, in fairness, been very supportive, though am still plagued by a feeling of lurching from one responsibility to another without actually having sufficient time to engage in depth with any individual piece of work. If this is management I’m not fully convinced as yet.

Shortly before Christmas we were told that the Information Office is scheduled to be shifted from its current position as a standalone unit reporting in to the University Secretary, to be merged with the Strategy Office and report in to the Director of Strategy. More on that in due course. As at time of writing, both Judith and I are still doing our ‘acting’ roles, and are scheduled to continue with them until the end of February (extended from the original November deadline stated in the letter). After that, who knows. The amount of extra money I'm getting is fairly minimal, though I was awarded a 'discretionary increment' at the end of October - for general good behaviour, I think - which takes me another point up the OU's salary scale.

Occasions 

My birthday

Decided to indulge myself with an overnight stay in London for my birthday back in August, so booked a room at the Premier Inn London Southwark (Tate Modern) for the evening of Sunday 17 August (prudently, booked for the Sunday as it’s cheaper). We began by going over to Old Street where I had a slightly strange toasted tortilla at Crazy Salads, then paid a brief visit to nearby SCP, to look at nice expensive things for the home (Ruth subsequently bought a Bitossi bull, and lugged it home on the tube, where it now occupies a slot in my Expedit unit), before heading over to the Barbican. Since the tour of the Barbican I went on with Ray in 2009 I’d been wanting to visit the conservatory, but because of its very restrictive opening hours – it’s only open to the public on Sunday afternoons – I’d never managed to get there. We went in and spent some time wandering about, though I was disappointed that the famed quail have been rehomed and are no longer there.

We caught a late-afternoon film at what I think of as the National Film Theatre but is now called ‘BFI Southbank’. The film we saw was the 1998 Swedish movie Show Me Love, originally released under the ‘catchy’ title of Fucking Åmål (as the original title appeared in brackets after the English title, I initially thought that it was the name of the director and thought, fancy having that for a first name). However. It was apparently the first feature from director Lukas Moodysson. The film was very good, especially the startlingly beautiful Rebecka Liljeberg as Agnes (even more sexily, according to Wikipedia Liljeberg has now retired from acting and works as a paediatrician). This review from Sight and Sound is a good one. After the film we had a pizza dinner at Gourmet Pizza.

The following morning we breakfasted on delicious bacon, eggs and sourdough bread at the lovely, albeit pricey, Albion behind Tate Modern, part of the NEO Bankside development. We then made our way to the National Portrait Gallery and Ruth went to the Virginia Woolf exhibition, while I bowed out in the interests of walking to Chinatown instead and buying some kimchi. Afterwards we had outrageously expensive tea and cake at Sapore Italiano on Irving Street, only bought because we couldn’t get in to the NPG’s ridiculously too small basement café.

Parents' Golden Wedding

The August Bank Holiday weekend was spent at Mum and Dad’s as they had organized a party on the Sunday to celebrate 50 years of marriage. Luckily the weather held and we were able to spend most of the time in the garden. Hazel and Hannah took a number of lovely photos of the day, though I also like this shot I took myself the previous day of Steve, Dave and Dad attempting to erect a gazebo, observed by Nia, who was keen to be involved. Embarrassingly, greeted my godfather Brian Williams’ partner Liz with “I don’t think we’ve met before”, to have her assure me that we had, at Mum and Dad’s ruby wedding party ten years earlier. And quite possibly, on other occasions too. More embarrassingly, Dave later told me that he’d greeted her with much the same words. It’s enough to give the poor woman a complex.

Helen’s wedding

Judith kindly allowed me a day off in HESA week to go to my university friend Helen’s wedding in Tunbridge Wells on 19 September. Eschewed booking into the Tunbridge Wells Travelodge on account of its shocking reviews on TripAdvisor, so decided to go self-catering, and ended up booking Pippin’s Cottage at Albans Barnyard near Pembury. Booking somewhere outside the town presented us with the challenge of needing to get to and from the wedding, so we attempted to organize all this in advance by looking up a local taxi company (Walkers Cars) and booking journeys each way. In the event, this went completely t*ts up – the cab to collect us never arrived, though the driver did phone us to say he’d arrived at what his satnav had told him was the destination, though it clearly wasn’t. Very kindly, the owner of Albans Barnyard took pity on us and drove us into Tunbridge Wells to the church, where we arrived barely 5 minutes before Helen did.

The taxi we had booked to pick us up from the reception venue did make it to the venue but was unable to find the cottage and we drove for quite a while around country lanes, with the driver’s satnav telling him we’d arrived as we pulled up alongside a gate into a field. Eventually, to my considerable annoyance as it was quite late, he phoned the owners of the property to ask for directions, which as he couldn’t explain where he was, must have been quite challenging to give. More by luck than judgement, we eventually did pass the driveway to the property and luckily I recognized it from earlier in the day. Ironically, Walkers Cars’ homepage opens with “we pride ourselves on being able to accommodate the needs of all our customers”. Employ drivers who actually know where they’re going? I should have written to them to complain, but had rather lost the will once we returned to Reading.

Helen and Greg

Us

Taxi firm aside, everything else about the weekend was lovely. For a wedding, Helen’s was really rather nice, with a few quirky features that gave it interest. She had laudably done an enormous amount of the work herself, getting friends’ help to make table decorations and departing from the white theme by wearing a lovely blue dress she’d apparently picked up for £30. Greg, the groom, had selected a female friend to act as his ‘best person’, and she looked great in a mini-dress and top hat. The guests were transported to the reception venue via The Spa Valley Railway and a specially-arranged class 33 diesel train. The Spa Valley Railway operates between Tunbridge Wells and Eridge, with a stop at High Rocks, the reception venue.

The reception was the usual dinner-speeches-dancing format; Helen and Greg had generously funded an open bar, though I didn’t make much use of it as there was ample wine provided at the table during dinner.

For the second day of our Kentish stay we visited the gardens at Sissinghurst, which are lovely if twee, and there’s a very interesting exhibition of Vita and Harold’s married life. Returned to Pippin’s Cottage via a brief stop off in Cranbrook to go to a supermarket. Pippin’s Cottage itself is probably the most luxurious holiday accommodation I’ve stayed in: done up to a very high spec and with a Sonos sound system in every room, which we enjoyed playing with. I particularly enjoyed the feature which enables you to turn the volume up in the bedroom from a vantage point downstairs, in order to share news and music with your sleeping partner.

Mind-improving activities

Mindfulness taster session

Went to a Mindfulness taster session in September in Stony Stratford, run by Mat Schencks of Milton Keynes Mindfulness. Mat seemed a pleasant chap and it was a moderately useful couple of hours, though not quite sure that it justified the £20 attendance charge. There were the usual couple of attendees who didn’t know when to stop talking about themselves, and two women with evident mobility difficulties who arrived a trifle peeved at having to stagger their way to the top floor. There is a 4-week Mindfulness course available run on consecutive Saturday mornings, but not sure I want to commit to that. The session was held in a room on the top floor of York House, a large Victorian building evidently used by a variety of groups and clubs: the MK Humanists were having a lively time on the floor below us, judging by the noise, and the large room on the ground floor was completely taken over by gamers, sitting around four or so large tables each with war games going on. I’m guessing they were probably these people. I’m sure the group is open to both sexes but they were, without exception, men. Had to interrupt the gaming to find the simpleton who had blocked my car in; luckily managed to locate him at the first table of chaps though he seemed oblivious to the inconvenience caused. Probably has Asperger's, I thought, uncharitably.

Brock Keep as part of Heritage Open Weekend

As part of Reading’s Heritage Open Weekend in mid-September, Ruth and I visited Brock Keep on Oxford Road, next to the former TA barracks (not sure what they are currently). There was an exhibition on the ground floor about the Keep’s history; the upper floors are rented as artists’ studios. A chap was offering tours of the studios, which we didn’t like to turn down though we were both more interested in the building than in the art. The Keep is Grade II listed and sited next to its original army depot, though since the 1980s it’s been owned by Reading Borough Council and is currently rented by arts charity ‘OpenHand OpenSpace’. As buildings often do, it had scaffolding around it on the day we visited, as can be seen in the photo.

Jazz at Progress

In October, Ruth and I went to see the Tony Kofi Quartet at the tiny Progress Theatre up near the university, part of the ‘Jazz at Progress’ season. I don’t really know much about jazz, though I have CDs by Stéphane Grappelli and Dave Brubeck that I enjoy as background music over dinner, but actually sitting and listening to it is something a bit different. Tony Kofi and his band specialize in the works of Thelonious Monk, and the set – titled ‘Monk and More’ – was largely devoted to these, though with a few other bits thrown in. Seeing jazz live is quite an experience as you really get to appreciate the interactions of the musicians much more than when listening to it.

Martha Wainwright at the Stables

In November, took Guy up on his offer of a spare ticket to see Martha Wainwright at The Stables in MK, after one of his group cancelled. Had heard of Wainwright but knew little about her beyond that; went mainly to have a break from hotel rooms and because I’d heard work colleagues speak well of The Stables as a venue. Met up with Guy and his three friends for a nice pre-show dinner in the Stables’ restaurant. Enjoyed the gig, including the supporting set by Addie Brownlee. Both singers appeared in the lobby afterwards, affably chatting with audience members and selling copies of their CDs. Wainwright has a powerful stage presence and delivered lively chat between songs, including some background to each song; my only complaint would be that her delivery made the lyrics less than distinct, and given the background we'd been given, it would have been good to hear them. A minor complaint though.

Memorable outdoor activities

Went up to London at the beginning of September to attend a HESES seminar and had a particularly gorgeous morning walk around Regent’s Park and environs. Took this shot of the lovely Cambridge Terrace Mews, followed by a wander around the park and past the Grade I listed Royal College of Physicians. After the seminar, met Ruth for an early evening dinner at Pizza Express. We decided to pretend we were on our first date, before discovering that neither of us had any interesting hobbies. Spent remainder of meal pondering our date-worthiness.

Rather annoyingly, this year’s NSS conference turned out to be at the Royal College of Physicians, but I felt obliged to suggest to Judith that Jill should go instead of me, partly through grudging appreciation that I should let her have a turn, and partly through genuine inability to take a day out of the office in early November. Will just have to hope I can visit it on some other occasion. Determined to actually go to the 2015 London Open House weekend – or Open City, as it now seems to be called – the 2014 weekend clashed with Helen’s wedding.

Wyfold Court

Went for a Saturday morning walk in October with Ray near Wyfold Court, north of Reading and apparently near a country cycle route that Ray has done a few times. The building itself is an extravagant mishmash of turrety bits with, according to Wikipedia, crocketed heraldic beasts adorning the garden front.

Wyfold Court housed Borocourt Hospital from 1930 to 1993, after which it was converted to apartments. The hospital apparently featured, along with others, in an early 1980s documentary about conditions for mental patients. From available online photos – such as this before and after – it looks as though there were formerly a lot of ancillary hospital buildings that have since been cleared for new housing.

We did a round trip returning to the car via some nearby woods.  I don't remember what Ray was doing in this photo.

Another autumn walk with Ruth via Caversham Heath golf course and Chazey Wood, before an early evening meal at The Griffin. The peace in Chazey Wood is a bit shattered at weekends by the whooping and hollering coming from the Delta Force paintballing centre. As per the previous time, we found ourselves scurrying back down The Warren to make our booked dinner time. Can't remember what we had but I'm sure it was nice.

And so to 2015 ...

Singing; graduation; free dinner

April here already. Spring, young things, etc.

Ruth and I met Helen S at a crowded Lyndhurst on Friday for an early-evening dinner before heading to Claire’s choir’s concert at the Wesley Methodist Church over the road. The Lyndy’s food seems to have improved since its takeover a couple of years ago; had an acceptable chicken Caesar salad, though couldn’t detect the presence of any anchovies – wish these weren’t widely regarded in the UK as some sort of controversial exotic foodstuff. Helen seemed remarkably cheerful after her first day post-redundancy; had apparently managed to sign on successfully and appeared to have enjoyed a pleasant browse around the shops. We headed over to the church and joined Claire’s mother Chris at some quite good seats up in the gallery.

The Witt Studio’s End-of-Term Showcase included a large and diverse range of pieces, many of them solos, some by the Witt Studio Singers – billed as a ‘virtuoso vocal ensemble’ – and some by the full choir, the Witt Studio Chorus, of which Claire and her friend Kay are members. Ruth enjoyed Louise Herrington’s rendition of When You’re Good to Mamma, from Chicago – great voice, but I can’t be doing with that sort of stuff. Nay to musicals, and thrice nay to Gilbert & Sullivan – what was all that supposed to be about? I think my favourite number of the evening was David Lay’s rendition of With Joy Th’impatient Husbandman, from Haydn’s oratorio The Seasons, partly because I enjoyed the title.

Up to London on Saturday to see Claire graduate with her BSc (Hons) in Psychology from the Open University. As the ceremony wasn’t until the afternoon I took the opportunity to pop in to see Hannah and her latest flat. Flat nice if cosy. Stanley, Hannah’s cuddly sheep, is still filthy but she is reluctant to try cleaning products on him. Excitingly, Hannah was due to be doing a photo shoot of a nude man later that afternoon, I gather for a new ‘erotica for straight women’ magazine.

Walked from Hannah’s to the Barbican where I met up with Claire, her parents, her sisters Tanya and Fiona and her old friend Ann. The ceremony lasted a couple of hours and was OK – speeches not too long; lots of raucous cheering of graduands – much livelier than any of my graduation ceremonies. Afterwards we took the bus to Covent Garden and had a couple of drinks at the Punch and Judy with its balcony overlooking the Covent Garden Piazza. The pub was, unsurprisingly, packed so we were forced to stand huddled in a corner of the balcony for the time we were there, though we did manage to find a stool for Claire’s flagging mother. We went on to the Covent Garden branch of La Tasca for a nice dinner, though Claire and Fiona were evidently disappointed with the refurb it had apparently had since the last time they were there. Sampled a Crema Catalana liqueur, which I discovered smells and tastes like Angel Delight, so not an experience to be repeated.

Ruth and I went for a very pleasant walk around Whiteknights Lake on Sunday, including seeing some adorable ducklings who couldn’t have been more than a few days old. Had a look around the cave-type structure at the top end of the lake, presumably built as a garden feature at one point, and a brief look at Foxhill House.

Got to try my hand a being a restaurant critic on Tuesday evening. Ray’s sister Sharon now works for the Reading Chronicle and is in charge of the restaurant review spot. Sharon is apparently becoming concerned for her waistline after doing a number of the reviews herself, so has started farming them out to family and friends. Ray and I were given a crib sheet in advance of things to take note of, and duly presented ourselves at the Himalaya Momo House in The Walk at about 7pm. Proceeded to have a very nice meal plus a bottle of house wine (a French table wine with a ‘Himalaya MoMo House’ label cunningly stuck over it) ENTIRELY FREE. I could go for more of this.

Snow; Poet's Cafe; more snow

Awoke on Friday morning to a veritable blanket of snow. As always, given that snow is unusual in these parts, I snapped a number of photos before work, to preserve the memory. This ivy plant actually looked better with snow on it – I’ve a nasty feeling it might be dead.

Met up with Claire, Helen, Ali and Sarah on Friday evening for Ethiopian food at the Global Café followed by Poet's Cafe at South Street Arts, compered as usual by A F Harrold. The first half was devoted to the open mic slot, where about a dozen punters read their home-grown offerings, including Claire who read out a seasonal haiku she'd dashed off that day in a quiet moment at work. The second half featured performance poet John Hegley as guest poet, who delivered an entertaining set although with rather more audience participation than I go for.

Several of the 'open mic' participants were PC regulars and several appear to have produced mini-books of their work, with dubious justification in some cases. I always do enjoy Martin Haslam's offerings - his poems have a disciplined, spare quality that I like. Some contributors, I have to say particularly women of roughly menopausal age, don't seem to have grasped any sort of 'less is more' principle with poetry - yes, your ex-husband might well have been a complete git but no one else needs to hear three poorly-structured sides of A4 on the topic.

Ray and I had a day out in London on Saturday (pictures here) – started off by stoking up against the freezing weather with a slap-up breakfast at La Taaza on Praed Street (potted review of this café, which I’ve now breakfasted at 4 or 5 times: unsmiling staff; great coffee; very acceptable Breakfast No. 6, though it comes with rather more fried bread than is good for anyone). We had booked on an 11am Architecture Tour of the Barbican Estate, and as we had some time to spare elected to walk from Paddington into the City, which certainly bumped up my exercise quotient for the week. The tour group, probably partly due to the very cold weather and partly to the proximity to Christmas, was small – a quick subjective assessment revealed it to include me and Ray, two gay male couples and an elderly lady. The tour was fantastic and involved a comprehensive (and bracing) hour and a half long walk around the complex. The young tour guide was obviously a Barbican enthusiast and really knew his stuff.

We finished off the day with a quick unplanned detour to visit the appealingly-named church of St James Garlickhythe, before settling in at an en route Slug & Lettuce for a nice bottle of Chilean Merlot and some batter-covered snacks.

Abandoned vehicles in Reading

Last Friday's snowfall turned out to be merely a teaser, as a fairly unprecedented (for these parts) degree of snow fell on Monday afternoon resulting in traffic chaos and abandoned cars everywhere (see pic), and a whole slew of “how long it took me to get home” stories. Not owning a car, I have continued to trudge (wo)manfully into work. Today the roads look clearer, but the pavements are still like sheets of ice – but then no one much cares about pedestrians. AND we have to carry on going to work while car drivers claim time off for bad weather! If I were a bitter sort of person, I’d be seriously aggrieved. As it is, obviously I’m imbued with serenity and Christmas spirit. Much as I enjoy looking at snow, am now hoping for a thaw by tomorrow given need for Christmas travel.