Hobbit; unnecessary SFX; first Christmas lunch

Passed this decorated tree in Kents Hill Park last Friday. Cute.

Met Ray in town on Saturday to go and see The Hobbit. Evidently, Part 1 of 3. We had both been surprised and somewhat sceptical beforehand about its being a trilogy, but in the event, really enjoyed it. Rather than being a film of The Hobbit, it’s really Prequel to The Lord of the Rings, Part 1, featuring the events of The Hobbit. Having said that, it’s ace – though it almost certainly does help if you’re a die-hard fan of the franchise (having once watched all three extended edition DVDs back to back in a nine-hour gorge-athon, we can probably count ourselves as two such). The trilogy-ness is discussed in this Guardian article. It is, as one of the critics quoted therein notes, a purist’s delight.

The H was also the first movie I’d seen in 3D. Ray, being more of an old hand at 3D, thought it didn’t work too well. Certainly I didn’t think it added anything, and ideally I’d prefer not to have to sit through a film wearing a pair of special glasses. I was also disconcerted by something hard to place concerning the speed of panning across landscapes and action in some of the shots (created effect similar to being driven too fast over a humpback bridge), and the way the background was out of focus – spent the early part of the movie rubbing my eyes and attempting to clean my 3D glasses. Possibly this could have been due to the high frame rate referred to in the article above, not that I really know what that means.

Ruth and I went over to Ray’s boat in the evening for a casual lasagne dinner and chinwag. Returned the following morning to collect my car and to drive Ray to Marparts in Caversham to buy a new length of exhaust pipe, the exhaust having fallen off his van the previous Friday. I gather that it has since been expertly welded back on by his mate Darren and is now almost good as new.

Took a day’s leave on Monday to meet ex-Progress South Central people for Christmas lunch. This year, we had decided on having it at the eatery on the London Road campus, formerly The Cotton Club but now, following a refurb, called Eat & Drink London Road. Went not expecting much as the food used to be OK at best, but we were pleasantly surprised at the decent quality of the lunch – turkey was dry and uninteresting, as is often its wont, but the rest was pretty good, and there was much exclaiming over the positively al dente sprouts.

Returned to MK later on Monday afternoon, though not before getting my key to the internal garage door stuck fast in the lock – after trying for about 10 minutes to get it out with no luck, had to just leave it and go. Had to advise Ruth that she would have to access the garage, if she needed to, via the back gate and the main garage door – this forgetting that the key to the padlock on the back gate was locked inside the garage. In the event, she evidently had to climb over the back gate, something which I gather caused a certain amount of difficulty, though she appeared to have treated it with more humour than I think I would have done. Fortunately, there were apparently no onlookers.

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.

Jasmine; dentists; education events

Charmed that the jasmine growing around the front door has produced lots of attractively scented flowers recently. After the winter it was looking brown and crisp and Ruth was speculating, rather more hopefully than I thought kind, that it might be dead. But no. Look how pretty.

Graduation ceremonies took place last week so the campus was awash with young (surely, younger than they used to be?) students with, in some cases, elaborately overdressed family members. I think I managed to appear in a number of family photos while making my way along the cloisters on the way back from lunch.

Intrigued by the report of the appearance of Jesus on a drainpipe in Coventry, though I have to say it looks a slight stretch of the imagination to me. If this degree of imagination is required, I reckon a pair of discarded pants on the bedroom floor this morning was a dead ringer for the Virgin Mary.

Went for the usual thrice-yearly scrape and polish with hygienist last Thursday. I took the perhaps unprincipled decision to abandon NHS dentists about three years ago after being registered as an NHS patient in three different dental surgeries in Reading within the space of a few years: one decided to stop accepting NHS patients; the next was a shabby little hole containing an abrasive Greek bint whom I never remember cracking a smile, followed by a surgery in Caversham with a semi- abandoned air and a Vicky Pollard-like receptionist, where the dentist probably had an adequate grasp of English but preferred not to use any of it during the consultation, except for an "Ah! You need filling!" towards the end. At that point I decided I needed communication skills in addition to a second opinion (my previous, only, filling had been around 20 years earlier and I was a bit sceptical) so registered at a private dental practice. I'm sure their technical competence is no greater than NHS dentists (my new dentist confirmed that I did, indeed, need the filling) but their customer service and communication is infinitely better. Even the hygienist is a softened version of the ferocious Nazi witch prototype that I remember NHS hygienists fitting when I was younger. After the hygienist’s appointment, my dentist, a pleasant jolly woman who was undoubtedly head girl of her private school in a former life, told me, as usual, that my teeth were wholly uninteresting and threw in a jovial parting comment about flossing, before charging me £35 for the 5-minute consultation. This is the life. Next stop BUPA.

Spent last Friday at the National Strategic Skills Audit South East Regional Roadshow, which involved taking the train to Gatwick Airport and then getting a taxi to the Copthorne Hotel Effingham Gatwick which, despite the name, is only a short car drive involving a motorway journey from Gatwick Airport. No wonder the fare was £16. The hotel is a bizarre faux-Mediterranean affair with its own golf course, which was awash with elderly golfers – in fact my cab driver nearly took out one particularly doddery looking specimen on the way up the drive. The event itself was well organised though did involve the compere pleading with people during the welcome address not to bugger off after lunch what with the lure of it being Friday/sunny/Andy Murray playing at Wimbledon. Didn’t entirely work, given that each table sat 10 people and mine was down to 4 after the lunch break.

Ruth and I wandered briefly into Reading’s new branch of The Range on Saturday. According to their hyperbolic website, The Range’s wares range “from everything you’ve ever dreamt of to anything you could ever imagine”. In practice, it’s a bit like Hobbycraft combined with Matalan combined with Homebase. It does sell rabbit food, which could be useful. I spent 59p on a ‘Harvest Munch’ snack for the bunnies, which they have so far spurned. Here it is placed temptingly on the floor, plus Lola’s bottom as she hops past it.

Went to another event on Sunday, as I had volunteered a while ago to attend a day of the first-ever Sunday Times Festival of Education at Wellington College in Crowthorne. By the time the event came around, both the universities minister David Willetts and film mogul/founder of Skillset David Puttnam had pulled out, making it distinctly less relevant to Lifelong Learning Networks than it could have been. Bits of the day were interesting, though, and Kenneth Baker was good value. Spent a predictable portion of the day envying people who go to school in such surroundings. Here's one of the school buildings and a rather nice woody glade where I ate my lunch.
Managed to follow the wrong crowd of people on the way in to the College grounds and initially found myself in a gymnasium about to register for a chess tournament. Realised just in time. Phew.

Wednesday 18 November 2009

Went for a lovely dinner with Kate and Steve on Friday at The Crown at Playhatch, a local gastropub-type establishment. To start, Ruth and I shared the king tiger prawns wrapped in crispy potato strings, which were certainly artistic although slight risk of firing shards of crispy potato string into fellow diners’ eyes. The slices of rare¹ duck breast I had for a main course were very nice although I’m not sure what ‘pommes fur’ are.

Have been on something of a roll this week with Freecycling. Advertised an old IKEA double bed frame at around 2pm on Saturday and by 3pm had had seven replies from interested parties. A young lad duly came round on Sunday and loaded it all into his car. Wonderful notion that people will just come to your house and take away your old junk.

Jurys, Birmingham

Late in the day, Harley has proved himself a chewer. I had been rejoicing in the fact that Harley and Lola seem much less inclined than the late Jake to chew books/paper/clothing, which had led me rashly to store a pile of books on a low shelf in the dining room. This week I came home to find several with nibbles out of the spines. Rabbits apparently do need to chew constantly in order to keep their teeth worn down, so chewing is to be applauded, but they are provided with a plentiful supply of hay for this purpose. Lola enjoys hay but Harley appears to spurn it in favour of, this week at least, Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway and the International Dictionary of Phrasal Verbs.

Spent Tuesday evening and Wednesday of this week at the Lifelong Learning Networks’ National Conference at the Jurys Inn, Birmingham. The conference was enjoyable enough and the hotel was nice on the whole – in my experience Jurys tend to have nice rooms but indifferent food, which was pretty much borne out. Am permanently amazed though as to why mass catering is so often so mediocre. At the conference dinner on Tuesday night, the main course was advertised as ‘medallions of fillet steak’ – to which I thought OK, sounds quite nice. The steak duly turned up – overdone, but that’s par for the course, but my suspicions were aroused when a dish of well done boiled vegetables then appeared at my elbow. The worst was confirmed when roast potatoes and gravy appeared a minute later. I mean WHAT IS THE POINT of serving fillet steak if you’re going to then turn it into a roast dinner? Personally I like steak with pommes frites and either béarnaise or peppercorn sauce, or mustard. Not BLOODY ROAST POTATOES AND GRAVY. I mean. Honestly.

¹ By 'rare' I mean pink, obviously. I don’t know what type of duck it was but hopefully not an endangered species.

Wednesday 15 July 2009

After an afternoon and evening spent at our Lifelong Learning Network’s conference at Dorney Lake last Thursday, I had to travel to Chatham on the Friday to represent us at Kent and Medway LLN’s annual conference. The Chatham Maritime project seems an impressive venture and probably much needed, as from a quick walk through both Gillingham and Chatham town centres, the area could do with a bit of perking up. The University of Greenwich’s Medway campus is certainly elegant and the conference itself was good, but the convoluted journey took me three hours each way. Have reached the decision that when the amount of time spent travelling equals the amount of time actually spent at the conference, it probably isn’t worth it. NB although Greenwich’s ‘Getting to Medway by public transport’ page claims that the campus is a 20-minute walk from Gillingham station, it’s more like 40 – unless there was a cunning shortcut I missed.

As part of a flying visit to my parents at the weekend, Mum and I visited the Linda Vista Gardens in Abergavenny. The gardens have apparently been open to the public since the mid-nineteenth century, although Mum claimed never to have noticed them before. Very pretty although we were puzzled to find grated cheese scattered around in several places.

Mildly shocked earlier this week while blearily making coffee to hear noise and scuffles from the next room and go in to find the rabbits viciously tearing clumps of fur out of each other. Seemingly, if caged at night, the combined scents of freedom and breakfast send them into a frenzy. Have been instructed that I need to feed and release them IMMEDIATELY on going downstairs in the morning – yes, before making coffee. I know. It’s outrageous.

RIP boiler. We have hopefully now spent our last night with the old Glow-Worm combi boiler referred to in my 29 April post. As of this morning, a new Worcester Bosch condensing combi is being installed, along with four new radiators. Hopefully this will mark an end to the recent exciting unpredictability of the hot water supply. Attaching a pic of the old boiler, before it is ripped off the wall and consigned to wherever it is that condemned boilers go. I will miss its banging noises and endless unsuccessful attempts to fire.

Visit to Essex; land-based Open Day

Spent a lovely weekend in Brightlingsea visiting my friend Shiho, who was a fellow postgraduate student at the University of Essex in the late nineties/early noughties. In addition to having two children in the last three years, Shiho has also written a book so has been having an impressively constructive time of it. Shiho’s husband Roderick is currently Director of Essex’ Centre for Psychoanalytic Studies. We had a wander around the university campus on Friday afternoon; it looked much as I remembered it with the addition of a couple of extra buildings. Essex’ brutalist campus is interesting although of my two alma maters’ campuses, I have more of an affection for Whiteknights. To quote feminist writer Sheila Rowbotham on the subject of Wivenhoe Park:

“the isolated campus of Essex University had the air of a besieged space station in some bizarre science fiction other-world”

Rowbotham, Sheila. (2000) Promise of a Dream: Remembering the Sixties.

To return to the weekend: on Saturday we had a lovely time nosing around other people’s gardens courtesy of Brightlingsea Open Gardens 2009. On Sunday, we all went for a walk down to the beach, with stop-offs at the boating lake to look at some ducklings and at the Bateman’s Tower Café for ice creams. The tower itself is a late-nineteenth century folly – there’s an article here about the folly and the reinstatement of the roof which was apparently removed during the war. The café is a charmingly/alarmingly (depending on your viewpoint) traditional establishment that certainly seems to do good business. In addition to ice creams, it offers a variety of traditional breakfast foods including something called a ‘Fried Slice’- there were quite a number of people sitting eating full fried breakfasts in the blazing heat. According to Roderick, there was an attempt a few years ago to replace the café with something more up-to-date and sophisticated, but the notion was cried down on the grounds that it wouldn’t be in keeping with the area (unlike, presumably, the current shack-type affair complete with corrugated iron roof). My countrymen are completely bizarre sometimes.


On Tuesday I represented our Lifelong Learning Network at an Open Day for FE staff teaching land-based subjects. These are a major speciality of the University of Reading and we were sponsoring the day, although the actual work was done by staff in the School of Agriculture, Policy and Development. The day proved a great chance to get a tour of parts of the University I wouldn't normally see, including the spanking new Hopkins Building with its stunning lab space (made me wish I'd studied something scientific and ergo well-funded), the Harris Garden and the Centre for Dairy Research at the Shinfield farm (interesting but smelly). We finished up with tea and cakes at MERL which was very civilised.