RIP Willow

As of last Saturday, Willow, the friendly, smelly and exuberantly destructive female bunny we have homed for the past 18 months or so, is no more. She had always struggled to put on weight since we had her, but had become progressively thinner recently and had eaten less and less, and had started withdrawing under a chair in the living room that she hadn’t sat under before. We took her to the vet who advised that she couldn’t feel any tumours and agreed with Ruth that Willow’s symptoms didn’t seem to indicate GI stasis, but was of the view that there was undoubtedly something seriously wrong. The upshot, after some discussion, was that we ended up having her put to sleep (and have consequently now received the customary card from Oakley Road vets, containing the bill and a stirring verse condoling re the loss of your loved one). We brought Willow back from the surgery as Ruth wanted to bury her in the garden, which she duly did and is now pondering an appropriate plant for the space. Posting a small photographic tribute in memory of Willow.

Pondering her next move	With Ruth on the sofa	Pondering going out of doors
On the green waste bag	Her favourite spot by the fence	Down the drain: another of her favourite spots
Really getting stuck in	On the sofa again	An unreadable expression

'Tis the end of the year, etc

Various discussions recently have led to my considering taking out another flat in Milton Keynes, though ONLY FOR ANOTHER SIX MONTHS. Really. Because by that point, everything will be crystal clear re what to do moving forward re residence situ. As I find myself unable to face the remainder of the winter in Travelodges given impossibility of preparing hot food in the evenings, and (perhaps feebly) can’t face either lodgings or a room in a shared house, it seems currently the only option given Ruth’s continuing lukewarm attitude to moving to MK. Viewed five flats the week before last, four of which were perfectly nice, but have not taken one as yet, partly because dithering over locations. Have two more viewings booked for Monday 5 January so will see what those yield.

Had our Information Office Christmas lunch on Thursday 18 December, at The Black Horse at Great Linford. Turned out to be considerably more enjoyable than the previous two, perhaps partly because the recently-retired Nick came along and bought three bottles of wine for the table. Nick appeared in a good humour despite having been recently diagnosed with coeliac disease and severe anaemia. An amusing time was had with some cracker innards, leading to both Guy and Andy crawling under the table at one point though I forget quite why. Service was a bit sluggish but food wasn’t bad.

‘Broke up’ from work for Christmas at midday on 23 December. Went into Reading in the evening and dined at Chennai Dosa, an Indian restaurant opposite the library that I’d never been to before, apparently part of a chain. The place had a slight air of being about to close down: there was a paper sign on the door stating that it was not accepting card payments; the tandoor was not working rendering half the menu unavailable, and half the restaurant had not been laid and had the chairs stacked on the tables. Having said that, the food was very nice when it arrived, though Ruth’s Chilli Chicken was too hot for her. I had the Palak Mutton which was offputtingly green but very tasty. We didn’t have one of the dosa dishes (apparently an Indian crepe, and presumably the chain’s speciality) though did see others eating them. Picture pinched from this article in the local press from earlier this year when the restaurant was the target of a swoop by immigration officials.

After dinner we went for a swift drink at the Wynford, currently about Reading’s sole gay venue, and then made our way along Kennetside to The Jolly Anglers to join Claire and others of her friends for a Christmas music evening/singalong. In fact, to my relief, it wasn’t as much of a singalong as Claire had implied, with a group rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas being about the only thing we were expected to join in on. The musician, Laurie, played both guitar and piano and Claire and another friend of hers sang.

Ray came round for an early breakfast on Christmas Eve before heading off for a couple of hours work and then over to Emma 2’s. Ruth and I set off mid-morning for her parents’ home in Norfolk, and, despite the best efforts of my car to turn off towards Center Parcs at Elveden, we arrived at I think around 2:30pm, having stopped at Birchanger Green services for a brief lunch on the way. Wood Farm looked about as dilapidated, certainly on the outside, as when I last saw it (which was the last time we went there for Christmas, in 2010) although a new kitchen is apparently due to be fitted soon. There were eight of us for lunch on Christmas Day, including the four friends of Mrs Millard who came on the last occasion we spent Christmas there.

Re Center Parcs: my colleague Jill has gone to Center Parcs with her family for Christmas. I am not at all envious. A new one has recently opened quite near Milton Keynes.

On Boxing Day morning Ruth and I drove out to Thetford Forest and followed a couple of its marked trails to make a welcome walk of 4 miles or so. We returned to Wood Farm for lunch in the company of Lucy, a dietician friend of Mrs Millard’s from her time working in the NHS. Spent the afternoon reading Five Get Into a Fix, as part of scheme to ease myself gently back into regular reading with some undemanding material, while Ruth and her mother went through some of Granny Box’s old diaries and other documents. We returned to Caversham on the non-motorway route via Milton Keynes on Saturday.

Lydia

Pets corner: Harley had another teeth-rasping operation a week or so ago, from which he appears to have recovered well. Willow is still adorable, still destructive and slightly less smelly than she was, although still seems to have something of a matted rear end. My parents' remaining cat Lydia has, as noted previously, become friendlier and more forthcoming since the death of Emrys, suggesting that a dominance hierarchy may have existed previously, unsurprising given Emrys’ tetchy temperament. I gather she is now much more willing to come into the sitting room of an evening and be friendly. She is, however, wary of little Nia, which is unfortunate given Nia’s keenness to befriend her.

Came down to Abergavenny on Monday morning, where I still am. Family get-together for lunch at Mum and Dad’s on Monday, followed by opening of more presents. Nia appeared pleased with her Mr Tumble outfit and accompanying spotty bag, and with this blackboard/whiteboard combination easel, which she did her best to play a part in assembling. Yesterday was initially very cold and foggy, but we still ventured out to Belgrave Park to attempt to tire Nia on some play equipment.

Went into Hereford with Mum this morning and breakfasted at Diego's, next to the former Left Bank Complex, sadly still empty. Walking from the cafe to the library, we received a shock on casually glancing into an estate agent's window to see a prominent ad for Annedd Bach, Michaelchurch Escley, for £425,000. So the chap who bought it from Mum and Dad has in fact barely owned it for a year. Hoping that it's bought by someone who actually wants to live in it this time.

Willow; moths; inept photography; RIP Emrys

Willow, far from being less destructive than Lexie, is borderline worse, certainly as regards the furniture – she is so far less offended by shoes than Lexie was. Given access to the living room she will jump up onto the chairs at every opportunity and start munching. She is, though, also the friendliest rabbit we have yet encountered, pushing her head up into our hands to be stroked and jumping up onto the sofa and climbing all over our laps (albeit often while also trying to nibble clothing and the picnic blanket that currently covers Ruth’s mauled sofa). Feebly, we are so taken with her on this account that there is no question of returning her to the rescue centre, so we will just have to try to take whatever action possible to protect the furniture.

Ruth had a sort out and prune of her wardrobe the other week, which inspired me to have a sort through mine, though I lack her discipline and am still keeping a number of items of clothing that don’t currently fit me, in the optimistic hope that they might once I’ve shed that couple of stone that I’m going to lose any day now. I did though put a number of things on the charity/rag pile, including this pair of size 12 white jeans that I have owned for over 20 years, but which have only fitted me for probably about 3 of them altogether – they have always been my benchmark for whether I was at my (in my eyes) ideal weight, but I was persuaded that it was ridiculous to keep them.

Took a couple of more or less unworn skirts back to MK with me to advertise on the OU noticeboard, and have successfully sold both of them; one of them a frumpy Country Casuals just-below-the-knee number that I still didn’t feel quite old enough to wear (though actually the woman I sold it to was quite a bit younger), the other a short cream number from Zara, which was quite ludicrously marked XL but is a 12 at the largest – Zara is one of those shops best not shopped in if you’re over this size. I don’t think it quite fitted me in the shop so Christ knows why I bought it. Sold that one yesterday morning to a bubbly woman named Jenny who seemed delighted with it.

Managed to miss spotting Ed Miliband at the OU the other week, though Victoria did return to the office excitedly after getting her morning latte saying she’d seen him. I did though do my bit by pointing out that the intranet people had spelled his name wrong in the original piece. Well, it’s not hard to get these things right.

Moth-related emails from both of my parents over the last month, the one from Mum about the oak processionary moth, which has apparently been causing a kerfuffle in the Thames Valley area. Some aerial spraying of local woodland has been taking place, though this has apparently been condemned by wildlife groups – indeed, it’s hard to see how that sort of action wouldn’t kill other things besides the moth. A more recent BBC Berkshire article seems to claim that it has been responsible for a decline in blue tit numbers by depriving them of an important food source. B*stards. Received a photo from Dad a few days later of a pair of mating poplar hawk moths. They are indeed striking in appearance, but I have been vaguely squeamish about moths since the offputtingly large ones that we used to see in Indonesia years ago, though I don’t know what type those were. Perhaps these beauties?

Ruth and I went a few weeks ago to view the proposed redevelopment plans for Caversham’s precinct (officially known as St Martin’s Centre, according to the article, though I’ve never heard it referred to as such). The plans look very nice on the whole, though it seems to me a shame that it would apparently necessitate the removal of the mature trees that currently occupy the paved area between Costa and House of Cards (they are cunningly referred to in the Reading Post article linked above as ‘the existing non-native trees’ – aha, drum up support for their removal by making them sound like foreigners). Fully supportive of the proposed extension to Waitrose though – and relieved that there appear to be no plans to move the supermarket out of Caversham to a larger site, as is often the way these days – and the proposed revamp of the car park couldn’t hurt. After viewing the plans we went for dinner at Casa Roma, the latest in a line of restaurants to occupy the space on Caversham Road opposite TGI Fridays. Although it was a large brightly lit space and not very atmospheric – though the garishly kitsch artworks are endearing in a way – we were impressed with the food – we both ordered seafood dishes which came with a generous amount of actual seafood, not always the case – and with the staff.

Ray visited me during the last week in May while I was staying at the Buckingham Travelodge, and we went for dinner at Prego, an Italian restaurant on Buckingham’s High Street and rather the sort of place I wish we had in Caversham. Ray has managed to acquire a Land Rover Discovery from his friend Darren at the marina, which I was a bit stunned by although he appears mightily pleased with it.

Finally managed to overcome previous problems in trying to take out a new phone contract, and am now enjoying my new Galaxy S4. The whole ‘life companion’ bit is pretty corny, but its 13-megapixel camera does appear to take great pictures – better than those from my actual camera, a few-years-old Sony Cyber-shot with a piffling 8.1 megapixels. However, working out how to use it isn’t immediately straightforward, and the Dual Shot facility – which I couldn’t work out how to get out of at one point – seems irritatingly pointless. This is a facility which superimposes your own face in a postage-stamp-type frame over the main photo, as per this one, which I took accidentally in Mum's kitchen while trying to switch the wretched facility off. Am in agreement with this review, which describes it as “hilariously daft”.


The process of getting the new camera led to some more chat sessions with Vodafone, which are always fun.

While staying with Mum and Dad a few weeks ago Mum and I went to explore the lovely Gliffaes Tree Walk at the four-star Gliffaes Country House Hotel - the house is a bit of a monstrosity but the setting is beautiful. Could fancy the idea of a short break there, if the rooms weren't £200+ a night. Would have been a beautiful spot to take a few pictures, especially as the rhododendrons were just finishing, but I couldn’t get the phone’s camera to work – managed to unintentionally shoot a short video of Mum’s foot before getting it stuck again on the Dual Shot facility (evidence right).

Briefly cheered last Friday by thought of solution to housing crisis, but it was short-lived. My colleague Lizzie appeared at my office door asking if I’d seen the ad on the intranet for an apartment sublet in Woburn Sands, at a seemingly extremely reasonable £450 a month. I did duly express interest and drove over at lunchtime to meet the tenant, a swarthy German postdoc called Andy, and view the flat. Flat very nice, though my suspicions were slightly aroused by the sound of the parking arrangements, and the fact that both Andy and the owner of the flat would still want to sleep there for some of the time. I met the owner on campus that same afternoon, a young chap called Sam working on contract as a web developer. Very pleasant and laid-back, but I inferred quickly that Andy was in fact his lodger not his tenant (amazed at the number of people who don’t seem to know the difference) and that Sam, albeit claiming to spend most of his time with his girlfriend in France, evidently does spend a certain amount of time at the flat. Decided I wasn’t after a flat-share with a twenty-something, so bowed out, after having interrupted a fair portion of my Friday looking into it. TIRESOME.

Received news from Dad this morning that their now-elderly ginger cat Emrys has died. Mum got Emrys from the RSPCA sometime around 1999-2000, as I have this photo (left) in my collection labelled ‘Milly and Emrys 2000’. I believe he was thought to be possibly a couple of years old at the time of adoption, and had apparently been found wandering loose around Hereford. Emrys had, it has to be said, a somewhat spiky edge to his personality and was never a cat with whom one could let one’s guard down. Having said that, in later years he appeared to have become (slightly) more placid and enjoyed sitting on Mum’s or Dad’s laps – and indeed, often in their spot on the sofas while one or other of them sat on the floor. Also posting what must be one of the last photos of him, taken about a month ago lying on his mat.

Rabbit exchange; further Travelodgery; retreat

Change of rabbits. Ruth and I made the sad decision that Lexie was a bit too much of a handful for us, given that we have limited time to spend in an intensive pet training regime and were unsure whether she would benefit anyway, so returned her to Reading Rabbit Rescue on the Saturday of the Easter weekend. Sandra was nice enough to make sympathetic noises and to assure us that pets are meant to enhance your life and Ruth had to be happy with her choice. Here’s a parting shot of Lexie with my Ugg boots – she expressed a violent dislike of all my shoes during the time she was with us.

Some discussion ensued about a possible alternative choice to try with Harley, and Sandra’s front runner was either Willow, a dwarf lop close to Harley’s age or Cherry, the long-term resident whom we viewed before at the time Ruth chose Lexie. Partly influenced by a desire to give Cherry a home, we decided to give her a go – however, Sandra later emailed us to say, somewhat cryptically, that they’d quickly realized Cherry wasn’t the right companion for Harley. It later turned out that the allegedly timid Cherry’s favoured technique during bonding attempts is to ignore the male for the first 15 minutes while pretending to eat hay, then viciously attack him. We inferred that she has done the same thing on a number of previous occasions, though Sandra wasn’t too explicit about that. Ruth and I theorized that she may be quite happy at RRR and it could be a deliberate strategy she’s developed in order to ensure that no one adopts her.

After Harley’s swift removal from Cherry’s proximity, S&S tried him with Willow. The first update noted that he was quite wary of her and there’d been quite a bit of chasing – indeed, we were sent this photo of Harley taking refuge under a box. However, we gathered that things had gone acceptably well, and we collected both Willow and Harley on the following Saturday, after Ruth had spent a day converting our cupboard under the stairs into a new bunny residence. Mightily pleased to have a dining room free of the unattractive cage and litter tray. Ruth is not enjoying cleaning out the cupboard with its awkwardly sloping ceiling, but no doubt she’ll adjust to the stooping involved. Willow appears a friendly bunny and we are quite taken with her so far, though not sure of Harley's opinion. She is very fond of the outdoors, probably because her previous owner apparently kept her loose in the garden.

Tried out a new Travelodge the week before last, this time the Old Stratford branch on a junction with the A5 north-west of Milton Keynes. Back there this week. Small place but like the Central has undergone a recent refurb to Travelodge’s ‘new look’, so pleasantly new-smelling with a great bed. Old Stratford seems to be a long line of houses either side of Towcester Road, with a couple of pubs and a convenience store. The long straight walk from Old Stratford into the more attractive Stony Stratford forms part of the Roman road Watling Street.

Although the page on Travelodge's website shows a Little Chef next door to the Travelodge, it's now next door to a ‘Buddies USA Diner’, according to Judith a local Northamptonshire mini-chain of restaurants. Mildly annoyed by it as although it boasts a breakfast menu, it advertises its opening time as 10am, which to my mind isn’t much use to anyone for breakfast. As is the way of the modern world I took to Twitter to query this:

and received the following response:

Well, yes, I suppose you could open at 4pm and serve bacon and eggs, but I personally wouldn’t count that as opening for breakfast.

It wasn't a major issue as I am set up to prepare coffee and muesli in my room, providing there's somewhere nearby to buy a pint of milk, but it's just the principle of flaunting a breakfast menu in people's faces.

While I've had a Twitter account for a while, I've only made sporadic active use of it, partly because I haven't yet decided quite how I want to use it, and haven't expended the necessary energy to find out How It All Really Works. On a related note, I also have a LinkedIn profile which I more or less keep up to date, although I’m not a particularly active user of it. I enjoy the mild amusement value of occasionally receiving endorsements for various skills from people who hardly know me - this week, an endorsement for ‘Management’ and ‘Program Management’ (neither of which I consider myself to have any particular experience in) from a chap who used to work in the IT Unit at the OU, with whom I exchanged the occasional email although we never actually met. Quite bizarre. He’s good-looking, though, so I may stay connected for that reason alone.

On a cultural note: killed some time a few weeks ago by visting Old Thornborough Bridge, just off the A421 between Buckingham and Milton Keynes. The bridge dates from 1400 AD and is (according to the information board in the car park) the sole surviving medieval bridge in Bucks. The old bridge, a scheduled monument, no longer carries traffic; the current bridge carrying the A421 was built in 1974.

Day in Hungerford a couple of Sundays ago to meet Ruth's aunt for lunch. I roped Ruth into a pre-lunch walk across the Common and a little way along the back road to Kintbury, past the gates of the former Hungerford Park. I had had a vague idea that years ago we used to walk up the driveway between these gates, but on this occasion I couldn’t see any indication that it was a public footpath, so we walked a bit further on and took the footpath leading south through Foxley Covert, coming out on the little road that used to pass Inglewood Health Hydro, though I don’t think that exists any more. There are some pictures here of the former house at Hungerford Park. We met Ruth's aunt for lunch at The Bear, our second visit since the takeover by Old English Inns; although the snacky soup-type lunch we had on Ruth's birthday had been fine, the roasts we ordered on this occasion were distinctly disappointing, and certainly bore a very poor comparison to the divine roast beef lunch I had there a few years ago. I did email them afterwards finding fault with various specifics, and may leave a review in due course on TripAdvisor. However, Mrs Spence seemed to enjoy her lunch, and the glass of Chardonnay I had with it was very palatable.

Attended a one-day retreat last Saturday at the Global Retreat Centre at Nuneham Park. Have been on their mailing list for a while but not until now got around to attending any events. The Global Retreat Centre is run by the Brahma Kumaris World Spiritual University, a seemingly international organisation with centres in a number of countries. My reasons for going were a) I fancied a day of a bit of uplifting tranquillity with a bit of meditation thrown in; b) it was free; c) I was curious for a bit of a poke around the house and grounds. The house was built in the mid-eighteenth century as the home of the Harcourt family, who sold it to Oxford University in the 1950s. I gathered that the Global Retreat Centre was set up in about 1993.

The day was attended by around 60 of us and consisted of a morning session entitled ‘Knowing the Self’, led by a sixty-something chap called Matthew who apparently used to be a run-of-the-mill working man with wife, etc, before throwing it all in 20-odd years ago to become a volunteer at the Global Retreat Centre. Good in places, though too much talk and flipcharts for my taste and not enough meditation practice, even though the session was subtitled ‘Exploring and Developing the Art of Meditation’. Additionally, while there were some helpful ideas, there was a lot of stuff about the soul towards the end of the session, including some rather wacky stuff seeming to imply that your soul can potentially remember things from before you were born. Hmm. The afternoon session was titled ‘Spirituality in Daily Life’, but substantially consisted of getting the audience to recap the main points from the morning session. It was free, I suppose. Plus points: it was a lovely setting and a relaxing atmosphere; we got a free hour-long tour of the house after lunch and a chance to walk about the grounds. One woman I spoke to had apparently been for a residential retreat there, which I may consider at some point. I also met a Milton Keynes-based Mindfulness Teacher, who gave me her card.

Mildly curious as to how the Global Retreat Centre apparently manages to charge no fees for any of its courses. I’m not one to ponder such things at length, but Ruth did query how an organisation promoting a spiritual, unmaterialistic approach to life can afford the rent on an Oxfordshire country estate and an Oxford city centre shop unit. Something to do with karma perhaps. In fairness, although there was a box marked ‘Contributions’ in the reception area, with envelopes and gift aid forms, this was not referred to by any of the staff or speakers during the day, nor were we put under any pressure to contribute. I must confess I didn’t, though I did spend about £20 in the shop on a DVD and some incense.

A couple of notes on the route:

• The first section of the A4074 north of Caversham towards Oxford is a notorious accident blackspot, cheerily referred to in the local press as the ’13 Bends of Death’. Having said that I only saw a couple of people indulging in idiotic overtaking.  
• The village of Nuneham Courtenay presents a odd aspect, with rows of almost identical cottages ranked each side of the A4074. The explanation, apparently, is that in the 18th century the first Earl Harcourt had the village moved in its entirety from its original position closer to Nuneham House, and arranged either side of the main road to Oxford, apparently so that he could convert the site of the village to ornamental parkland. Seems a bit high-handed.

In an concerted attempt to take more exercise and get endorphins flowing, etc, I have been swimming at Bletchley Leisure Centre once a week for the last month, and for the last couple of weeks have been propelling myself out on the bike at weekends. Have done the same route each time so far, along the Henley Road to Playhatch, up (painfully up) to Dunsden, then wending back past All Saints Church to join Kiln Road back into Caversham. Have to say I do feel good afterwards, albeit slightly achey.

Sadly, the lovely Tash and her piano-playing partner have moved out of number 47, apparently to a smaller place on a quieter street. Very civilised to have the sound of a piano emanating from next door, even if it was the sound of someone having a lesson and struggling with a two-octave scale. They’re (I think) the third lot of tenants since Nicky returned to South Africa., I guess more will be moving in soon. Obviously we hope they’re quiet, childfree, fond of classical music and/or jazz, don’t have a car and are fond of looking after people’s pet rabbits. I live in hope.