Walk, Reading to Newbury, 20.4 miles

30 April

This walk was meant to be the dress rehearsal for the actual BHF trek on 13 May (which was yesterday – more in a later post). I’d wanted to find a route that was about two-thirds of the actual event distance, as I’d been advised that was the thing to aim for beforehand in terms of distance covered. Ruth and I had intended to start from Newbury and walk back, but mis-timed the trains so in the end just set out from Reading. The walk improved once we were out of the initial rather tedious stretch through Katesgrove and the environs of the A33 (enlivened by Ruth calling an inattentive teenage cyclist an arsehole - we don't think he heard, thanks to earphones), though the canal-side gardens in Elgar Road always provide some attractive interest.

As on our boat trip with Ray from Reading to Newbury in 2012, we found it a disconcertingly long time before we passed under the M4 and felt as though we were getting out of Reading (about six and a half miles into the walk). We stopped for a snack near Burghfield Lock and observed some ducks. Although we'd taken some leftover pasta salad with us, planning to have that for lunch rather than go to a pub, we did in fact end up going to a pub, stopping for lunch at The Rowbarge at Woolhampton, about 13 miles into the walk. We sat in the garden - although it was a bit breezy - and I had an excellent steak sandwich (actual pink chunks of meat rather than thin brown slices). After lunch we trudged the remaining miles on into Newbury.

Somewhere near Sulhamstead, I think	Ruth in the garden of The Rowbarge
Woolhampton Swing Bridge being operated	One of the many locks on this stretch - Widmead, I think

This walk proved more of a slog than our 16-miler a few weeks earlier, even though it was over less hilly terrain. Could have been lack of as much attention to diet the previous week, or just one of those things. Also, the canal-side scenery, though pleasant, is a bit samey after a while. The elevation diagram shows the steady ascent between the two towns, explaining the relatively large number of locks along the route.

Map of the route is below – the endpoint indicated isn’t accurate as I forgot to stop the tracker until we were about two miles into the return train journey, so the last section of red line leading back out from Newbury can be ignored.

Curry; Mum's birthday; road confusion

First post since August due to a combination of: 1) idleness; 2) hotel room-induced fractiousness; 3) side effect of stress and longer hours due to workplace battlefield promotion. May produce backfill update later, but here’s a potted summary of the last week:

Clockwise from left: Matt, Rebecca, Paul, Galina, Victoria, Guy, me

Finally galvanized myself to do my bit for workplace socialising and organise a meal out last Thursday evening. Matt and I met for pre-dinner drinks and a nice chinwag at the Vaults Bar on Stony Stratford’s high street, before joining half a dozen or so others at the Naidni for a curry. Was determined to actually get a photograph taken of the occasion this time, so roped in one of the waiters, who was extremely helpful and in fact took about nine from a variety of different angles, while my colleagues developed rictus grins and I assured him that a couple would do, honestly.

Went swimming first thing on Friday morning, followed by treating myself to an entirely justifiable breakfast at Carluccio’s, rapidly starting to become a staple on days off. Had managed up until that point to barely take in the whole Black Friday thing, though did note that the restaurant seemed quite busy; while meandering back through the shopping centre I saw that a couple of shops – including GAME – had people queuing outside the door and that the shops appeared to be letting people in in small batches. Ray later told me that he had called in at Tesco around 11.30pm the previous evening to see people queuing to access the Black Friday bargains that went on sale at midnight. Quite bizarre. Selfishly, I enjoy sleeping far too much to be doing with any of that.

Returned to Caversham around midday to be greeted with another comprehensive round of sofa destruction from Willow, which in the spirit of sharing I left for Ruth to clear up. Attempted once again to persuade her of the merits of goldfish. Willow had skipped out of the way in the photo but was lurking under the coffee table like the evil minx she is.

Made an early start on Saturday to drive to my parents’ house for the weekend, kicking off with getting the train with Mum into Bristol to meet Dave and Hannah for a lunch to celebrate Mum’s 70th birthday on Sunday. Mum had been keen for the four of us to get together without any partners attached – something that probably hasn’t happened for over 20 years – and Bristol had seemed like a convenient option. We had a pre-lunch drink at The Berkeley, a Wetherspoons pub on Queens Road, before lunching at Bill’s, where Hannah had efficiently reserved us a nice booth at the back of the restaurant. Post-lunch we walked up part of Brandon Hill and sat briefly.

The train journey from Abergavenny to Newport was slightly marred by the crowds on board heading for a rugby international in Cardiff; the Newport to Bristol train was only slightly less crowded, this time due (apparently) to a Christmas market in Bath. On the return journey I balked at boarding the first Abergavenny train due to its stuffedness and my mild crowd phobia, though in fairness to Mum I think she would have been prepared to fight her way on; as we suspected the following trains would be similarly well stacked, she phoned Dad and asked him to pick us up, which, to his credit, he did.

Family lunch on Sunday coupled with Mum opening cards and presents, assisted by Nia. Ruth and I had a nice walk to Waitrose first thing to pick up a few groceries, and Nia as Fireman Sam had a frisk around my parents’ garden, assisted by Dad as Station Officer Steele. In the evening Mum, Dad and Ruth watched some of Mum’s new Miss Marple box set, while I flicked through some Rupert annuals and a Famous Five book.

Left on Monday and drove to Newbury as Ruth had an interview at Vodafone HQ for a possible contract. Disconcerted by the realization that I am no longer familiar with the exit from junction 13 of the M4 in the post-bypass landscape, though as I’ve barely driven that way in the past 20 years I’m not sure why that should be surprising. After dropping Ruth at the main reception I opted out of sitting in the car and waiting for her – largely because I couldn’t in fact find a parking space – and drove off the site, intending to wait for her at Chieveley services but actually heading towards Newbury by accident. Managed to locate Waitrose where I did some shopping, then to kill the remaining time I thought I’d drive out to Snelsmore Common, where we often used to go at weekends as kids, to see how it’s been affected by the new road. Unfortunately – again, as it’s been a while – took the wrong road and ended up going through Winterbourne and then onto a tiny back road to Bagnor. When I was about half way along it and hoping not to meet anything, Ruth texted asking me to pick her up, so I turned round and retraced my steps, having had an entirely pointless half hour or so drive around in the countryside.

Today went to another concert in the OU’s ‘Lunchtime Chamber Music’ series, this time by an ensemble called 4 Girls 4 Harps. Lovely sound; never heard a harp quartet before.

Surprised to arrive home a couple of Fridays ago to find a Corby trouser press in the hallway. Turns out Gail has bought it as a present for her husband, and had it delivered to Ruth's house to avoid Rob discovering it. Aside from the fact that it's taking up space in our narrow hallway, Ruth was in London when it was delivered so our neighbours at 51 kindly took it in for us. Fear Ruth's assurances that it wasn't actually ours may have sounded to them like protesting too much. The embarrassment.

Waste disposal; birthday; middle-aged activities

We now have a new green cone in the garden, as a smaller and more discreet replacement for the composter. How it works is a bit of a mystery to me, but I may (possibly) make the effort to find out. Apparently it chomps all sorts of food waste, not just green stuff – don’t really get that.

Baked a couple of damned impressive cakes to take in to work to mark my birthday (one chocolate marble cake, one banana) and spent the day basking in a pleasantly smug glow of home baking. Received some nice gifts including a pedicure voucher and some lovely white roses from Ruth, a JL voucher and a bizarre but interesting facial product from the parents, a glass butterfly from Claire, a book from my aunt and a piece of gadgetry for my bicycle from Ray, which will apparently tell me how many miles I’ve cycled and at what speed.

Finally managed to get out on Ray’s boat for the weekend boat trip that we had had to postpone from early July due to the high water levels. Managed to actually get out of the marina and chug the 20 miles or so up the Kennet and Avon Canal to Newbury, finally arriving in Newbury on Monday morning after mooring up near Sulhamstead on Saturday night and just past Thatcham on Sunday. Pictures here.

Despite the comparatively short distance, there are an incredible 22 locks on the route (from Blake’s Lock, no. 1, to Newbury Lock at no.22, and not counting the de-gated Ufton. This Wikipedia page lists the whole lot and also the summit point of the canal near Wootton Rivers in Wiltshire, after which you start going downstream towards Bristol.). Who knew the terrain was so hilly? That and the half-dozen or so swing bridges, plus the lift bridge at Aldermaston, ensure that you’re not going anywhere quickly – but then that is I guess the point of narrowboating. Quite a feeling of responsibility operating swing bridges, and particularly Aldermaston Lift Bridge which carries the A340. About half of those on our route were manual ones only carrying footpaths, but the others carry roads and are operated by inserting a BWB key into the lock and following the onscreen instructions to close the road and either swing or lift the bridge. Proudly operated Woolhampton Swing Bridge all by myself, albeit watched by the entire garden of The Rowbarge.

Moored up in a lovely spot on Saturday night where we managed to have a barbecue, watched by cows, and Ruth hung our towels from a tree to dry, resulting in mutterings from Ray about looking like a pikey encampment. It didn’t help to dry them as they just ended up covered in morning dew. Moored on Sunday in a slightly less satisfactory spot just upstream from Thatcham, where we had some difficulty getting close enough to the bank. Ray gave Ruth a fishing lesson, which she took to with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

Had an unexpected day off on the Tuesday (boss had originally vetoed my taking the Tuesday as leave due to a Wednesday deadline, hence Ray had arranged alternative crew for the Monday night in the shape of his brother Lee; boss then texted me on Monday to indicate that we’d done enough work for the deadline so I could take Tuesday if I wanted to – nice, though would have been more use if it had been in time for us to arrange an extra night on the boat). Instead, Ruth and I did a few useful jobs including going to the tip and to Halfords to buy a replacement headlamp bulb for my car, which, usefully, they also fitted for a reasonably paltry additional cost, certainly cheaper than booking it in to the garage and a lot less painful than trying to do it myself. Then drove over to the Englefield Estate to have a look around the gardens, which we followed with lunch at the Englefield Tea Rooms – nice staff and toasted sandwich; took a while but in fairness they were packed out. In response to the comment accompanying this Geograph photo, evidently the tea room has indeed survived the post office closure, and was doing a roaring trade when we were there - one of the staff was heard to tell someone that they’d already started taking bookings for Christmas lunch.

Englefield is, apparently, part of the Historic Houses Association. It’s only the gardens that are open to the public, though it sounds as though you might be able to view the house by appointment. We had originally considered going over to Highclere Castle, but luckily I checked the website first and was informed that maximum visitor bookings had already been taken for August. Doubtless the Downton Abbey effect.


Did finish Exclusive; apparently the President did do it though there’s a cunning Epilogue that (possibly) throws a note of ambiguity over the whole thing. Bit confused now. Upcoming book will have to be Mira Grant’s Feed, as it’s our next Book Group book. Also pondering whether I should read Fifty Shades of Grey, just to find out what all the fuss is about.

Went over to Lambourn on Sunday to have lunch with Ruth's aunt. In return for inviting ourselves and obliging Mrs Spence to shop for a large joint, we went over a bit early and Ruth prepared the vegetables, while I sat in the garden reading the paper. As per last time, we had the most amazing joint of beef that was cooked to perfection - had to fight the urge to secretly hack off a wodge and take it home in my handbag. Just hope that a lump of it didn't end up going to the dog.

Festering batter; ballet; wardrobe assembly

My 'permanent' office mate Victoria has recently returned from nine months off on maternity leave, with the consequence that Young Claire has been shifted across the corridor to occupy Emily's desk while Emily is on maternity leave, and to share an office with Galina, who is about to go on maternity leave. Phew.

Victoria presented me about a week ago with a share of a 'Herman the German Friendship Cake', part of a whole 'chain cake' concept with which I was hitherto unfamiliar. Uncertain which of my friends would actually welcome being presented with a plastic tub of raw cake batter, so I may end up cooking the whole thing and then palming off slices onto assorted loved ones, which may work better. Luckily I am about to visit my parents for the weekend so may be able to slip a wodge into their chest freezer under the frozen redcurrants. The idea of the cake is that you leave it to bubble/fester on your kitchen worktop for nine days, adding small amounts of flour and milk and stirring regularly, until finally adding various other ingredients and baking it on day 10. Am slightly sceptical but will give it a go. Victoria ended up ruining hers by mistakenly adding two cups of oil instead of the stated two-thirds of a cup and rendering Herman into something resembling an oil slick.

Ruth and I kicked off a long weekend last week by going to the Newbury Corn Exchange to see the 1966 film of Kenneth MacMillan's production of Prokofiev's 'Romeo and Juliet', with Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev. It's a ropey old film quality-wise but certainly worth seeing, though almost certainly worked better as a stage show than a film, if only because Fonteyn's age is unfortunately apparent in film close-ups (she was 46 dancing the teenage Juliet - still a pretty graceful mover though). Was struck by the elevation of the chap playing Benvolio (better than Nureyev's) and only realised at the closing credits that it was Anthony Dowell. The film was shown as part of the Newbury Spring Festival and the venue was awash with identikit blonde posh women in late middle age.

As I arrived in Newbury a bit early I had a brief wander around the new Parkway shopping development. Seems a bit OTT for Newbury but perhaps it's come on. The Kennet Centre, now named Kennet Shopping, has duly become even more depressing than I remember it and seems to have lost the café that originally formed a central feature. No doubt the new development will be criticised for taking business away from it, but in fact I remember it always being fairly low-brow, much like Reading's Broad Street Mall - in fact the two have a very similar range of shops (I still don't get the TK Maxx thing).

We spent Thursday waiting in at the house for delivery of the IKEA PAX wardrobe that we recently ordered - no great hardship given the spectacularly sunny weather that encouraged much lolling on the patio. After dithering for some time over which size to get, we seem to have ended up getting an enormous 230cm high by 250cm wide monster which risks rendering bedroom 2 into little more than a dressing room, but it should at least enable us to clear clothes off temporary rails. Am impressed with our progress so far: by the end of Sunday the frame was up and Ruth had put together one of the two sliding doors, all without calling a bloke.

Met at Claire's house in the evening for Book Group and a discussion of Rosamund Lupton's Sister, which is a diverting enough read but suffers from a ludicrously far-fetched plotline involving rogue gene therapy. As ever though, we ate and drank quite a lot to compensate.

Ruth and Helen's hairdresser Karin appears to have soared to new heights this week, not only by cancelling their hair appointment on Sunday (not unusual) but then by apparently turning up to the rearranged appointment yesterday evening having forgotten her scissors. So that went well then.

On Tuesday lunchtime Liz and I went to hear 'Open Voices', an alternative vocal group at the OU, do their first concert. Alternative in the sense of being alternative to the main OU Choir, who have auditions and sing requiems and stuff. 'Open Voices' apparently have no auditions, don't require you to read music and encourage everyone to go along and discover their inner singer. I can read music but have never considered myself much of a singer, but am considering going along as I fancy doing something musical. Am mightily tickled to learn from Ray that a female acquaintance at the marina is trying to persuade him to take up the dulcimer - already have amusing pictures forming in my head.

Donnington; OU stuff; life and death

Have been extending my walk to work a few mornings a week recently in an attempt to pack in more exercise, now that darkness and cold in the mornings have forced me to abandon the early cycling plan – could cycle to work, but that would involve changes of clothes, showers etc, which is all too complicated (though a number of my colleagues do actually do this). Have, believe it or not, found quite a pleasant walk, north of here up through Woughton Park and Woughton on the Green – quite an attractive village which doesn’t appear to have any shops but does have quite a decent-looking pub – and then into Ouzel Valley Park and thence down to Walton Hall.

Met up with some of the Book Group on Friday 4^th for an early supper at Tampopo before they went to see We Need to Talk About Kevin – I declined to go as I’d rather read the book and suspect the film might give away crucial plot twists. I’m already slightly prejudiced against the book simply because of the number of people who’ve told me it’s the most amazing book they’ve ever read, but in fairness I suppose I shouldn’t let that put me off. After they’d departed I went to meet Ruth who had spent the day and previous night in Jersey as part of a bid presentation team. It seemed to have gone well and I was amused to learn that an analogy with Reservoir Dogs had apparently been used towards her and a male colleague, who were evidently the most sharply-dressed members of the team.

On the Saturday, Ruth rashly offered to do something that I fancied doing, so I made her take a meandering bus journey over to Newbury (she cracked towards the end, saying it was the most boring bus journey she’d ever been on, but prior to that had fun critiquing the bus’ design, seat covers etc as part of recently-developed interest in public transportation services thanks to new job). Once arrived, we had lunch at a crowded café near the clock tower before taking a walk up to Donnington Castle, a local historic site that we used to visit as kids – the photo on the left of me taken there in 1993 was the last occasion I’d been there, partly because the Newbury Bypass was constructed in the interim and I hadn’t fancied discovering that the castle was now in the middle of a traffic island. Of course, it isn’t – in fact the bypass isn’t visually intrusive and can barely be seen from the castle, although it can be heard, and the traffic can be seen in the distance if you know which direction to look in. We had a quick mooch around and a young couple took this photo of us, in return for me taking a couple of them.

Went for my first Information Office team lunch on Friday 11^th to mark Emily’s departure on maternity leave. Emily is a fit and healthy type who looks as though she’ll just have the baby and then pop out for a game of tennis, so hopefully all will go well. During the journey over in Bart’s people-carrier, the topic of conversation turned to Radio 4 and Emily expressed surprise when I remarked that I rarely listened to it (though I know people who do) and commented that I was just the sort of person whom she would have thought would be an avid listener. Was unsure whether to be flattered at seeming an intelligent, erudite sort of person, or insulted at seeming bookish spinstery type. For the sake of mental calm I opted for the former thought.

Have been falling a bit behind with T183 due to pressure of sheer idleness, but have more or less caught up and have just submitted my interactive computer-marked assignment (‘iCMA’), the first of the two pieces of assessment for the course, though it only counts for 10% of the marks. Have also, in a fit of enthusiasm, signed up for course M255 – ‘Object-oriented programming with Java’ – which starts in February, partly at the suggestion of my line manager Judith who is keen for all of the returns team, except for Hoa who’s already an expert, to have a chance to upgrade their programming skills. Thought I might as well take the opportunity. Also it sounds, to me at least, more interesting than becoming an Accredited PRINCE2 Practitioner, which more or less everybody I worked with at CfBT now seems to be – can hardly open up someone’s LinkedIn page without being greeted by this as the front line. Have to remind myself it is actually a genuine qualification and not at all to do with NLP, eye-tracking etc, but still fight urge to scoff derisively.

We had Ray and Claire over to dinner last Saturday, as we were conscious that we hadn’t had people over for a while – if nothing else, it prompts one to clean the bathroom, tidy up, put rabbits in fresh clothes etc. I did most of the cleaning and tidying as Ruth spent the earlier part of the day lying down, in deference to having run up an £80 bar bill in Islington with Denise the previous evening. Luckily she recovered in time to cook the dinner, so the rest of us got to sit and drink wine and eat the pieces of breadstick that I had gathered together – don’t actually remember dropping a tin on top of them, but there you go. I can’t remember what we talked about, but it was midnight when they left so it must have gone well.

Gail and Rob appeared on Saturday afternoon and borrowed about 20 back issues of LivingEtc, apparently to get some inspiration for their dining room. Bit surprised as I had thought Gail’s tastes tended towards the classic, but will be interested to see what comes out of it.

Made a few attempts at the weekend to progress our attic workroom plan. Having worked out the lengths of MDF that (we think) we need, went to Homebase on Saturday morning to investigate their board-cutting service and had a brief and not particularly satisfactory conversation with a spectacularly uninterested member of their staff. As it happened, their cutting machine was broken anyway so we couldn’t have done anything. On Sunday morning we briefly toyed with the idea of driving across town to B&Q to check out the service there, but became dispirited even thinking about it so didn’t bother. Instead, had a bit of an online search and located a few online cutting and delivery services, so am now awaiting a quote from one of them. Ruth said some sensible things about it all being a learning process, which is of course quite correct.

Took a day’s leave on Monday to go to my former colleague (and indeed, line managee – is that a word?) Katrina’s funeral at Reading Crematorium, in company with a number of other current and former CfBT colleagues. Katrina and I formed the Data Management and Research Strand for the year or so before I left CfBT, and following my departure she comprised it herself (hopefully, in a reduced capacity – I like to think I contributed something to the arrangement) for the further year or so until the Fast Track contract closed. She continued working at CfBT on a smaller project before being made redundant earlier this year, evidently shortly before she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Something of a bummer.

By way of celebrating death and new life on the same day, I met up with Kate at the Alto Lounge in the afternoon, the first time we’d met up since she gave birth to her baby Oliver in July. I was duly introduced to Oliver, who seemed a fairly placid baby though Kate muttered darkly about him putting that on in company. Kate’s quest to rid their house of husband Steve’s apparently vast collection of computers through the ages appears to be ongoing – despite having actually donated some to a computing museum, there are evidently a number still in the house, including the attic and a good portion of the garage. Blimey. Taking any number of them to the tip is apparently difficult as the tip men assume that you’re a commercial concern offloading stock. Prior to their marriage Kate was apparently training Steve to say, by way of explanation “I was a computer geek, but now I have a girlfriend”.

Newbury; trek into town; farewell to Progress South Central

My car seems to be attracting local cats – have left the house a number of times recently to find a cat sleeping by/under it.

Went over to Newbury on Saturday 2^nd, once we had taken delivery of Ruth’s season ticket (a whole saga attached there), officially to purchase some Arthur Price cutlery from Camp Hopson to form a wedding gift for Gail. On arrival we discovered that they had no pastry forks (the desired item) in stock – personally I don’t think I’ve ever used, or indeed seen, a pastry fork, but evidently they were on Gail’s wish list. I suggested a set of cream horn moulds as staying within a Victorian theme, but this idea was spurned. I bought a small bin for my new bathroom in the clearance sale, so all was not lost.

Ruth’s family evidently has a long history of shopping at Camps – her aunt has an account there and apparently she remembers going there with her grandmother during summer holidays; Granny apparently thought nothing of parking outside the front of the store in the Daimler – or, apparently, sometimes in the Chairman’s reserved parking space. The store has had such a comprehensive makeover that it’s barely recognisable from how I remember it looking as a child, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing – though it seems a shame to lose the big Lego man I remember being on the stairs on the way to the toy department. Indeed, I think the toy department’s gone.

We had a lovely steak frites at Brasserie Gérard, which has replaced Beynons in the Market Place – I believe they are a chain, though I’ve never eaten at one before. One of the best steaks I’ve ever had though – will definitely try them again. Ruth bought a cauliflower at the market and exclaimed for a while over its cheapness and plumpness and rhapsodised for a while about the civilisedness of having a decent markets to shop at. Not living anywhere near one I didn’t really contribute to this – Christ knows where there is one in MK, and the regular market in Reading is a cheap-and-cheerful affair selling knocked off mobile phone covers round the back of the also-cheap-and-cheerful Broad Street Mall. Nice idea though. Spent a pleasant evening in the garden where Ruth did some tidying up of the vine and we burned some stuff in the chimenea, including whatever caused this slightly scary sheet of flame.

Another barrier to empowerment broken on Sunday morning when I drove us to the tip (actually, the Smallmead Household Waste Recycling Centre) to dump a bath panel, various pieces of plasterboard, a pile of old paint pots and assorted bits and pieces of rusty metalwork. What catharsis.

Got to travel to Cheltenham on Tuesday 5^th for a training day at HESA. I think I drove through Cheltenham once but have never been there otherwise, so was hoping for more of a chance of a poke about, but in the event we only got half an hour for lunch and it was raining. It has an enormous branch of Waitrose, though; I popped in briefly on my way back to the station for some of Loacker’s divine chocolate wafers. Walked from the station to the town centre along the Honeybourne Line, formerly the railway line connecting Cheltenham with Honeybourne, and now turned into a foot/cycle path. Honeybourne station itself still exists in a reduced form as a stop on the Cotswold Line between Oxford and Hereford. According to this, it was closed in 1969 but then opened again in 1985 - seems quite a coup.

On the recommendation of someone at the OU, the lovely Sam (aka ‘Mr Bike’) of MBRS UK Ltd came round to the house after work on the evening of the 6th and gave my little-used bike a service. Seemed a real bike enthusiast. Said that the best thing for the bike would probably be if it had some mileage put on it. Cheek.

Decided to spend the weekend of the 10^th and 11^th up in MK, partly because I wanted to try out the bike. Apart from a brief go at Center Parcs two years ago, I hadn’t cycled for about 12 years so was anticipating being distinctly rusty. Went out early on the Saturday morning with the idea of meeting as few people as possible and rode around for half an hour or so. Certainly have some way to go in terms of increasing fitness. Donned new gardening gloves later that morning to pull up the assortment of withered thistles and stuff them into my green waste caddy. Put down some pearl spar and an orby thing purchased from Homebase. That’s my quota of gardening work for the next month or so.

As part of the grand plan of taking more exercise, decided to see how long it would take me to walk in to Central MK. A long time, is the answer - picked what I imagined from the map would be the most attractive route, up the canal and then across Campbell Park; walking through the estates would probably have been more direct but given the recent shootings in Fishermead I thought I'd give that one a miss. Pleasant, if long, walk – the canal has a number of cute little old bridges, now all footbridges, and I saw some baby moorhens, one of whom approached me squawking insistently and was no doubt indignant that I had nothing to give it. Eventually arrived on Midsummer Boulevard about an hour and a quarter after setting out from Simpson. Called into the MK Gallery to see the 'New Art MK' exhibition of emerging artistic talent from the local area, including one chap labelled as ‘the self-styled king of contemporary embroidery’, who works through the medium of cross-stitch. Then went off to John Lewis for a cup of tea. Got the bus back ...

On the Sunday went for a stroll around Caldecotte Lake, just south of Simpson, as this looked a potential place to cycle. Indeed there were a number of people on bikes and a whole host of cycle paths, so I returned on the bike after work on Monday.

Returned to Reading yesterday for Progress South Central’s ‘farewell event’, organised by the LLN’s three remaining staff, though a number of former staff were in attendance, as well as a number of other people who have worked with the LLN over the last few years. Ann said a few words, then Richard Messer, Director of Academic Services, toasted Fay and Ann, then we had lunch. Not having any other pressing engagements I helped clear up and went back to the TOB with Ann, Paul and Godfrey for a cup of tea. The website is going to stay online until 2013 as a record of the LLN's work and Ann tells me the final Annual Report is due any day, so I await my copy.

Lowbrow walk; autumn leaves; mortgage frustrations

Went with Claire, Helen and Ruth for a voucher-assisted dinner at Strada on the 28^th (the modern way of eating out in these straitened times) and then on to see Shazia Mirza at South Street Arts, who delivered a funny show but misjudged some of the audience involvement (in brief, chose unwittingly to pick on some people who had come to the show straight from giving a free dinner for the town’s refugee population – cue supportive “ain’t that marvellous” applause from audience where Mirza had evidently intended to make game of them). Going through a member of the audience’s handbag is also possibly a bit of a cheap gag; one that Julian Clary also used when Ray and I saw him at the Wycombe Swan some years ago. Having said that, I do like Mirza’s comedy very much and most of the show was good value.

Newbury Retail Park

Took a day off on Friday 29^th (just to have a day off really) and decided on a whim to go over to Newbury for a pootle about to see what had changed. As I can count on the fingers of both hands the number of times I’ve visited my hometown in the last 20 years, the answer was: quite a lot. Ended up having a longer-than-intended walk around the south side of town, taking in the pretty lowbrow Newbury Retail Park, which is sited where I remember Newbury Rugby Club being – this, confusingly, has now moved about half a mile down the road. The retail park was doing a roaring trade – must be those branches of Peacocks, Matalan and Poundstretcher Extra all next to each other. Lunched on a cup of tea and a ham and cheese toastie in the branch of Costa inside the enormous Tesco on Pinchington Lane – the café is on a sort of mezzanine at the back of the shop so that one can enjoy looking out on to the shop floor and taking in multipacks of crisps, children being clouted, and other low-budget supermarket joys.

View from the cafe in Tesco

Ray and I went for another walk on Saturday, starting from the same spot in Sulham Woods but heading the other way, up towards the Thames, along the Thames Path a bit and then back across country via Purley. Stopped for tea at the basic but useful tea place at Mapledurham Lock, where Ray had a chinwag with the lockkeeper and I dwelt on the strong smell of rotting cabbage - the small garden and greenhouse in between the cafe and the lock cottage look in need of a bit of tidying up. Proceeded back across country with a short detour into Tilehurst to have a quick snoop at the strikingly unusual houses in Ridgemount Close.

Woods

Tea at Mapledurham Lock

Houses in Ridgemount Close

Didn’t make my usual Hallowe’en display with dried leaves this year, given that it has been eaten by rabbits for the last two years running. I still maintain that Jake’s excessive consumption of Hallowe’en-display leaves in 2008 had nothing to do with his subsequent death not long afterwards. Have been burning black candles instead as a mark of the season.

Helen appeared to have spent most of the week before our Book Group meeting last Wednesday bubbling enormous vats of soup, as three types of Hallowe’en/autumnal soup were on offer: two with pumpkin and one with butternut squash. Managed to put away two bowls of pumpkin and apple, along with a small tonnage of assorted bread and pastries. The book under discussion was Diana Athill’s excellent ruminations on advanced old age, Somewhere Towards the End. Most of us had enjoyed it and agreed that Athill sounds a super old bird.

Ruth and I went to the cinema last Thursday to take in lesbian family-drama The Kids Are All Right, focusing on dominating wine-loving doctor Nic and her flaky wannabe-garden designer partner Jules, and their two children fathered by an anonymous sperm donor, perfect little blonde A-grade waif daughter Joni and mulish-but-really-terribly-sweet son Laser. Good viewing although one feels a bit sorry for Mark Ruffalo’s character being so abruptly dispatched at the end. Was v. impressed with Annette Bening; I’d never formed much opinion on her before – a strong, unglamorous part – fair play to her. Lisa Cholodenko also directed the 1998 movie High Art, which Ruth has a VHS copy of but which I haven’t tackled yet, although I believe Ally Sheedy is in it.

Our attempt to remortgage to a new fixed-rate deal that will shave £200 off our monthly payments has been essentially progressing OK over the last couple of weeks but it’s a bit of a case of two steps forward and one back. The solicitors acting for our prospective new mortgage lender have elected to become obsessed with the Deed of Trust that Ruth and I had set up when we took out our first mortgage together in 2008 – albeit that we are not actually legally required to have one of these and merely chose to do so as a mark of good financial sense. As of today they are quibbling various clauses in it, leading to us going back to the solicitor who originally drew it up, who has responded with “nonsense, they’re just trying to add costs” and has offered to draft a one-page supplementary letter that should do the trick. Jury is still out as to whether it will or not. Have so far successfully repressed urge to ring lenders’ legal firm and challenge that they wouldn’t be asking a married couple for all this cr*p.

Solo walk around the southern side of Newbury

29 October 2010

Greenham House

Caught bus number 1 from Blagrave Street and enjoyed about an hour's meandering journey to Newbury Bus Station, via Theale village and Thatcham. On leaving the bus station on Market Street, I briefly considered popping into the Empire Café for a hot chocolate - this little café on Cheap Street has been there for years although I never remember frequenting it much - but decided to get going instead.

Crossed the railway and wandered into the grounds of Greenham House, which appear still to be a public park and looked well kept. The house itself was looking a bit scruffy but still there. I can't remember its official function during my childhood, but I remember my brother and sister going there for eye tests so it must have been used as a clinic of some sort. It seems now to be some sort of family centre. According to a Google search, the house was built around 1845 and bought by the Corporation of Newbury in 1920 when it was turned into a children's clinic and the grounds turned into Greenham Park. When we were small children, I remember there being caged budgerigars, and quite possibly other animals, round the back of the house, but these went years ago; there used also to be a children's playground.

Left the park and walked along St John's Road to the junction with Catherine Road, where I took a quick pic of these flats (left) that have replaced our old family doctors' surgery, evidently now demolished. After a bit of web scouting, discovered that the practice itself seems to have moved to Monks Lane (along with both Newbury College and Newbury Rugby Club) and is now called the Falkland Surgery.

Looking down Howard Road

Turned up Tudor Road and then left into Howard Road, the eastern end of which has since the 1970s ended abruptly in the Sandleford Link road, a new bit of the A339 built in 1979 (here's a picture of its construction). Prior to its being built, I have dim memories of a tarmac footpath leading from the end of Howard Road, though I can't remember where it led to - over to Greenham Road I suppose. I walked through the subway that goes under the A339 and came out by The Blue Ball pub, which used to be a favourite watering hole of my father's and grandfather's when we were children (probably because it must have been about the nearest pub to our house). The pub is still there, although I don't actually think I ever went into it. According to this, it won a stay of execution in 2008 after being threatened with demolition and replacement with flats.

Turned into Racecourse Road and was pleased to discover that the lovely line of poplars is still there. Continued to the end of the road and bore right into New Road and the Westwood Road estate, where I remember visiting a number of people as a child. I have to say New Road looks a bit bleak today, although I don't remember the estate appearing so as a child. Continued along to the point where the road ends in a short footpath (although today it also ends in a development of large executive homes, just to the left of the footpath) that comes out by St Mary's Greenham. I might have had a quick wander around the churchyard but there was a man loitering in the gateway so I continued on up the road, past the entrance to the vicarage. Unfortunately this can't be seen from the road, but I swear I remember my family going to view it once when we were house-hunting. It was in serious need of renovation at the time and I can't really believe my parents were seriously contemplating buying it, but perhaps they were just curious for a nose around. The main thing I remember about it is that one of the rooms had a hole in the floor. Found a photo of the vicarage here taken in 1987 - this would have been several years after my family viewed it. I wonder what happened to it - whether it's still there, and whether somebody renovated it.

Newbury Retail Park

Came out onto Pinchington Lane and trekked along to Newbury Retail Park and the large Tesco opposite. The Tesco has a branch of Costa inside on an upper level, allowing you to sit and look out over the shop floor, which I did over a cup of tea and a ham and cheese toastie. After lunch I had a quick wander around the retail park, built in the mid-1990s - never been there before but apart from M&S it's pretty lowbrow (Matalan, Peacocks and Poundstretcher Extra all next to each other). It was also packed with cars and people so evidently does well.

Houses on Monks Lane

Crossed over the A339 and briefly admired the new Newbury College buildings on Monks Lane, where it's been since 2002 after moving from its old site at Oxford Road, on the north side of the town. Wandered a little way down Newtown Road and noted that a new development called The Oaks has replaced the Sandleford Rise development - according to this from Sovereign Housing, it forms the third social housing development on this site. Evidently Sandleford Rise itself replaced a 1950s development called Camp Close. I have a dim (and quite possibly incorrect) memory of this name applying to the row of council properties that are still at the eastern end of Monks Lane (see right) - maybe these are vestiges of the former estate. The houses are very similar to those in the Skyllings development on the northern side of the town.

Despite being a bit footsore by this time, decided to walk the full length of Monks Lane and then down the Andover Road back into town. Passed the new development Heather Gardens, which must have been built in the back gardens of houses in Tydehams - cursed infill. This Geograph photo confirms that. I just hope the residents of Heather Gardens feel SUITABLY ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES.

Tydehams, one of Newbury's most exclusive roads, contains the impressive Internationale Moderne mansion 'The Haven' (1929, by Thomas Tait). This house fascinated me as a teenager and I managed to snap a picture of it during a wander down Tydehams in about 1990 (see above left). A bit of a tragedy that it's evidently since lost much of its garden to the Heather Gardens development - this Google Earth shot from 2004 (right) would seem to confirm that. The Haven is in the centre, top half of the picture. Here's an awesome back view of it from around 1930. At least the house is still there, and I have to hope that the money gained from the loss of the garden has allowed some kind person to do it up sympathetically. Here's hoping.

Walked down Andover Road past my former school. The Luker building (seen behind railings in the photo) was threatened with demolition a couple of years ago, but seems judging by this to have won a reprieve and is going to be converted into flats. According to the Newbury Today article, St Bart's new 'sustainable school', built with a Building Schools for the Future grant, is scheduled to be in use as from this academic year. The Willow Close development of retirement bungalows opposite the City Playground appears to have been razed to the ground, judging by this hoarding (left), which claims confidently that it's providing homes where people want to live. That's nice. At the roundabout, noted that St John's Post Office, a frequent stop-off point for sweets years ago, is still there.

Made my way back into town and called at Griffin Butchers on Bridge Street for bacon and a game pie.