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 ...

Burglary; Christmas; floods

Reasonably poor start to the New Year when I returned to my MK flat on 4 January to discover a scene of devastation in the ground floor bedroom. Trauma at discovering that pretty much all my electronic goods were missing was mitigated by the flood of relief at knowing that I’d backed up my data (on two removable hard drives and via Dropbox – am nothing if not anally retentive), and by the fact that my laptop and Galaxy Tab had escaped the thief’s clutches as I’d taken them away with me for the Christmas break. The mess in the bedroom was such that it was initially difficult to figure out what else had been taken, but it turned out later to be quite a lot of jewellery, plus a variety of miscellaneous items.

Discovered a card from Thames Valley Police on the doormat, noting that they had had to secure the property after a break-in (indeed one of the large panes of glass in the bedroom window had been boarded up – I didn’t notice initially) and urging me to get in touch with them. Duly did; spoke to PC Poulton of Milton Keynes’ CID and was half-surprised when he said he’d be with me within the hour. Not sure where I had got the idea that police don’t assign any urgency to attending burglary scenes, but I stand humbled. The young chap did indeed arrive (depressing realisation that all professionals are going to start increasingly seeming young from now on) and took a statement detailing my discovery of the scene and descriptions of the things that I was aware had been taken. (I think I had always assumed that victims were asked to compose their own statements in manner of a timed essay, but in fact the police write them for you – you just answer their questions.) He confirmed that – amazingly luckily for me, and I gathered relatively unusually – police had recovered most of my property following a tip-off, and it was in custody at MK police station.

A couple of forensic officers also turned up and proceeded to do a thorough evidence check of the bedroom and living area, which turns out to involve covering surfaces in a filthy black substance which is a devil to then get off. Also, I have now officially had my fingerprints taken – I think they assured me that they would be destroyed after the evidence gathering, but I wasn’t attending too much to that – trauma at being burgled alternating with excitement at being at an actual crime scene with real police. Ruth also arrived, having offloaded the rabbits through some sleight-of-hand and done a mercy dash up to MK, and as I decided I couldn’t face clearing up the bedroom, we booked a late room in the Jurys Inn and retreated there (v. nice, and room quite a bargain at £49). We also had a comfort dinner at Browns around the corner, which was entirely unnecessary. Returned to Old Groveway on the Sunday and Ruth insisted on tackling the bedroom by herself, which was noble as there was shattered glass everywhere.

Mention-worthy things NOT taken: the now-old laser printer I acquired on permanent loan from Ray’s dad – perhaps the thief anticipated difficulty in being able to download the drivers for it?; my bicycle, which was out on the patio and although the wheel was locked to the frame with a D-lock, the bike itself wasn’t actually secured to anything – it is, though, extremely heavy; the garnet cross handed down from a relative which is probably the most valuable piece of jewellery I own – a bit puzzling, this, as the thieves did take a number of obviously worthless pieces of jewellery including a collection of Girl Guide pins. Pointless things taken (though perhaps one shouldn’t ponder the logic): a small carrier bag full of postcards I have collected over the years, none of them of any monetary value; an old Motorola flip-up phone which I keep partly because I always thought it was cute and partly because it contains texts of sentimental value, and a business card holder engraved with my name (ghastly present from a training provider I worked with in my last job). The theft of the Mesh desktop PC Ray and I bought together in 2005 was also fairly pointless, though admittedly the thief probably didn’t realise its age, increasingly slow functioning and possibly failing hard drive. The thief (or thieves) also took my new DVD of The Hobbit, which I was a bit upset about as I’d only watched it once.

Ruth and I presented ourselves at Milton Keynes police station the following Monday for what turned out to be a three hour session of identifying and describing my stolen property. We were taken down to the basement property store where I identified the larger items, and then retreated to an interview room where I was shown all the smaller items in turn, in their evidence bags, which semi-obscured them, and in some cases asked to give more detailed descriptions. The session did reveal the absence of my platinum wedding band from the little wooden box I had been keeping it in since Ray and I separated – but as it’s the only thing so far that I am aware has not been recovered, I should no doubt consider myself lucky. On a lighter note: my attempts to describe a few of the postcards in the collection mentioned above had Ruth scoffing afterwards at my struggle to avoid mentioning that the collection contained a number of nudes, and instead focusing on trying to describe Constantin Brancusi’s Fish and John Everett Millais’ Autumn Leaves. Not sure whether my offer to spell ‘Millais’ constituted Plebgate-esque assumptions vis à vis the police, but the DS did appear to appreciate help with spelling it.

As a result of the burglary, I requested early release from my tenancy at Old Groveway and, to cut a bit of a story short, managed to check out of the property and hand back the keys on 24 January. The bulk of my stuff was shifted thanks to Bruce of Bruce Wilkinson Despatch, who was charmingly helpful and efficient, though could do with being a little less tactile if he wants his business to take off and beat the competition from cheap Polish drivers, which he told us about at some length. Was quite sad to say goodbye to Christina at no 12 Old Groveway, aka Stray Cat Lady, and Tony and Susannah at no 11, as they were all unfailingly friendly and pleasant during the time I was there.

Made (hopefully) my final visit to MK police station on 31 January, to give something called an ‘emotional impact’ statement and also, more importantly in my view, collect my property from the police property store. PC Poulton helpfully retrieved it from the basement – reappeared panting under the weight of a laden trolley; possibly I had more stuff recovered than is usually the case – and nobly pushed the trolley out to my car and helped me load up.

Did submit a claim on my contents insurance – my first, I think – for the value of my wedding ring plus the cost of some underwear and bedlinen that had broken glass trodden into it, and for my DVD player, which is working but is making a grinding noise it wasn’t making before. The Mesh, perversely, is still working, or at least, working as well as it was prior to the theft – am frankly impressed that it appears to have survived not only being stolen but also languishing in a police station basement for a month. Here it is in its evidence bag (right). Given that my data is safe, this was almost disappointing as it would have been a tempting opportunity to claim the cost of a new PC. I suppose I could have done that anyway, if I were the type of person to commit insurance fraud which, obviously, I’m not.

Indecision over what to do as regards accommodation has resulted in my currently being resident Monday to Thursday in Travelodges in and around Milton Keynes. Am not keen to take out another tenancy because of the expense and the requirement to commit to at least six months. Briefly considered taking a room in someone’s house, though I hate the idea, and did actually go and view a room in a new-build detached house in Greensand View in Woburn Sands. The landlady Sally seemed lovely, and we had quite an amiable chat over a cup of tea, but on reflection afterwards decided that I couldn’t face living in someone else’s house on an open-ended basis – possibly too old and have had my own place for too long. Also she has a dog and dogs, generally, smell, whatever dog owners may claim to the contrary.

Back to Travelodges. Travelodges are fine – indeed, Ray and I once took a week’s road trip around England in the early 1990s based entirely on staying at them, though it has to be said we were fairly young at the time. Think we started off at Scotch Corner, from memory, and worked our way back down south – forget all of them, but certainly took in Chesterfield and finished up with Wheatley. For whatever reason, it was a trip that I omitted to take any photographs of, so it exists only in my memory now, but it was nice.

Refurbed room at MK Central

Travelodge Shenley Church End

As there are various Travelodges in the vicinity of MK, have been alternating between three of them so far according to which has the cheapest rooms. This week am at the Travelodge Buckingham, an OK establishment next to a Shell garage on the A421, with a 24-hour Tesco opposite. Last week was at the Travelodge MK Central, which is in the process of undergoing a refurb and I lucked out with one of their redecorated rooms, featuring a snazzy new bed, luxury after the series of fairly saggy mattresses I’ve put up with over the last few weeks. Spent the week prior at the Travelodge MK Shenley Church End, a tired-looking former Innkeepers Lodge that’s in need of a refurb and updating to Travelodge branding, but does have the friendliest staff of the three.

A few non-burglary related highlights of the last couple of months:

Two unsuccessful job interviews, one for a job at the University of the Arts London, which I didn't particularly want anyway, and one for a job at the University of Surrey, which I did. But hey, I'm not bitter. And I did get to take a particularly windblown almost-selfie outside Guildford Cathedral, which I donated a pound to as it's apparently in need of asbestos removing from its roof.

Christmas, obviously. Ruth and I had a pre-Christmas trip to London on 22 December, to look at festive things. Surprisingly, started with lunch at Pizza Hut on Oxford Street; I hadn’t eaten in Pizza Hut for years, though they were a standard meal out destination when I was with my boyfriend Andy in the early 1990s and in the early days with Ray. Not sure Ruth had ever eaten in one, as she is highbrow about such places, but she was actually quite complimentary about the pizza. Their salad bars are still as indifferent as I remember them. Took in various shops’ Christmas displays, including Heal’s (naturally civilised) and Fortnum and Mason – the latter was a bloody bunfight, though Ruth managed to take a number of photos of posh wreaths. I think we refrained from buying anything, though I've blanked out a good bit of it. Stoked up briefly pre-Fortnums with tea at Richoux, a few doors down Piccadilly. After escaping from Fortnums only slightly battered, we walked back to Oxford Street and caught a bus back to Paddington.

Spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at Ruth’s aunt’s house in Lambourn. Although she’d kept everyone guessing until Christmas Eve, Ruth’s mother also turned up, bringing her dog Muffin. For some reason – perhaps a kind desire to keep me amused – Mrs Spence tasked me with sorting out her magazine rack, so I spent a while sorting back issues of The Field, Wiltshire Life and The People’s Friend. On Christmas morning we took Muffin out for a walk, before returning to the house to help prepare veg. Lunch was a splendid joint of beef - first time I’ve had beef for Christmas lunch, but as I’ve never been able to get excited about turkey, it was a very welcome change. This photo of Ruth’s aunt carving shows off its divinely still-pink interior. We spent the afternoon/early evening watching Call the Midwife followed by Downton Abbey – I think I dozed off during the latter, but don’t think I was the only one, despite the excitement of the whole Maggie Smith/Shirley MacLaine set-to. Certainly Ruth’s mum appeared to doze through most of it, with Muffin sitting bolt upright on her lap in some sort of bizarre small guard dog scenario.

On Boxing Day we drove down to Abergavenny to see my parents, Dave, Hazel and Nia, and went for a stroll around Linda Vista Gardens before returning to the house to open more presents, via a drink at the Hen & Chickens. Even though Dave kindly worked out how to set up the timer on my camera so that we could all be in the photo, the photo without me in it was much better.

Finally, for now, flooding. The Thames has reached higher levels this January than I’ve ever seen it before, flooding Christchurch Meadows right up to Gosbrook Road. None of the area in the picture is usually under water, though boats on the Thames are visible in the far distance. Claire's birthday drinks at the Jolly Anglers on 8 February were enlivened by the Kennet rising quite a bit during the course of the evening and the landlord having a supply of sandbags brought into the pub. Luckily it didn't rise as much as feared and we weren't forced to spend the night. The B478 Playhatch Road at Sonning Eye has been closed on and off for weeks now due to floods washing away part of the road, resulting in the closure of Sonning Bridge, an eighteenth-century brick arch bridge that forms a single-carriageway Thames crossing that’s an important cut-through for motorists wishing to cross the river. Apparently the poor old bridge carries 16,000 cars a day. There have been mutterings for years about a possible alternative Thames crossing between Reading and Henley (currently Sonning is the only one) but nothing has come of it as yet. I would feel sorry for the residents of Sonning, if they weren’t so rich.

TBC ....