Cocktails; fat cats; top security universities

The Hippobag was duly collected, having been well and truly filled with assorted rubble. How satisfying.

A group of us had a nice night out for Claire’s birthday on the 12th, starting off at Las Iguanas for cocktails. This may be one of the many areas in which I am probably a traitor to my sex, but I can’t really get excited about cocktails – sweet gunky drinks with random bits of fruit in them. Give me a glass of wine any day. I did try a margarita, and a couple of others whose names I’ve forgotten. Then we decamped for a nice dinner at La Tasca where Ali and I shared a decent bottle of Rioja.

Had booked last Thursday and Friday off as part of a plan to have a day out by myself somewhere before going on to my parents’ house to stay a few nights. In the over-optimistic assumption that spring must be well on the way, I had omitted to consult any weather forecasts so was surprised to receive an agitated phone call from my mother early on Thursday morning saying that there were severe weather warnings for their area. “Pah”, I thought sceptically, and set out – however, by the time I got into Gloucestershire and up onto Birdlip Hill, it was snowing quite heavily so, reluctantly, I considered it prudent to omit my planned visit to Painswick Rococo Garden and drive straight on to my destination, via a slight detour to Waitrose at Abergavenny where I managed to spend around £50, mainly out of annoyance. The country lanes that form the last part of the journey were indeed quite snowy by the time I reached them, so it was probably sensible not to have left it any later.

I was invited to assess whether Mum’s cat Lydia had lost any weight since I had seen her at Christmas, as she has apparently been on a strictly restricted eating regime, including low-fat Iams. She did indeed look marginally slimmer, so it would seem to be having some effect. Here she is lying on her back in appealing fashion. Think she was resting rather than simply beached.

On the Friday Mum and I took a trip out to The Weir Garden, a National Trust property near Hereford, in an attempt to view some snowdrops in the light of my aborted visit to Painswick. We had a pleasant walk around the 10-acre garden on the banks of the Wye. The Wikipedia piece on the garden mentions that notable birdlife can be viewed there depending on the time of year – I don’t think I spotted any though I wouldn’t recognise a goosander if one landed on my head. I did see a cute little wren when it briefly landed on the wall in front of where Mum and I were sitting.

On the Saturday, my parents and I ended up having a bit of a drive around Herefordshire, initially to seek out the church where my father’s great-grandparents got married. After some negotiating over directions we did eventually locate this, though couldn’t get inside as it was locked. Mum did go and knock on the door of the neighbouring cottage to ask if they had a key (they didn’t), while Dad and I hid round the side of the church in embarrassment. We then drove on to Newland and had lunch at The Ostrich, followed by a brief visit to the church over the road, apparently known as The Cathedral of the Forest (though its real name is the Church of All Saints). We then parked at the car park at Cannop Ponds and had a brief and chilly stroll along the side of the ponds before calling it a day. Shame as I’ve only been to the Forest of Dean once before and could have quite fancied a walk – but quite possibly it would be better later in the spring.

My Dad cooked a lovely curry in the evening, all the more impressive given that he had had to replace the diced lamb in the recipe with stewing steak.

Travelled to High Wycombe today to stand in for our Director at a meeting at Bucks New University. As there is no practical way to travel by train from Reading to HW, I made use of Arriva's excellent 800 bus service to Wycombe Bus Station via Shiplake, Henley and Marlow. Most of the hour-and-a-quarter route is a pleasant meander through country villages and affluent riverside towns (until one gets to Wycombe, where it all goes a bit downhill). And, at £6 for a return ticket, I feel I have saved my department money as well as saving the planet by not driving. Am currently bathed in glow of thrifty eco-smugness.

The meeting was held at Bucks' new Gateway building, which would appear to have security levels that would not disgrace the Ministry of Defence. I had received an email the day before confirming my attendance at the meeting, and informing me that on arrival I should sign in at reception where I would be issued with a visitors' badge (which I would be obliged to wear for the duration of my visit) and escorted to the meeting room by a university representative. This did indeed happen, although as I arrived early I asked the meeter-and-greeter if I could perhaps go somewhere for a cup of tea first - this flustered him somewhat but he did duly escort me to some sort of eating and drinking 'zone'. I had taken about two sips of my cup of tea before he reappeared to collect me, explaining that three other delegates had just arrived and it would be easiest if he took us all up together. I thought about asking "Can't I just make my own way up when I'm ready?", but thought better of it - I soon saw why as both the lift and the conference room door required swipe cards to operate them, resulting in a constant stream of people having to knock to get back in from the toilets. Although I'm all for sensible security precautions, this did all seem somewhat OTT.

I had thought about taking a photo of the Gateway building to illustrate this entry, but given the security levels I was a bit worried that this might result in my being taken out by a strategically-placed sniper. There's a picture here if you scroll down the page.

My ex-boyfriend Andy lived in Wycombe during the time we were together, so I spent quite a bit of time there in 1990-91. I never cared for the place, although my view was no doubt coloured by the succession of squalid shared houses that Andy lived in. In at least one of these, the kitchen was almost certainly dangerous to human health, so that we only ate microwaved food in Andy's room. I remember one cosy dinner for two being a microwaved roast-dinner-in-a-box eaten sitting side by side on Andy's bed. Simpler times ...

Wycombe also has one of those town centres where to get anywhere on foot you seem to keep having to go through dank concrete underpasses. It probably has its nice bits, though.

Overeating; bedside tables; DIY SOS

Last Friday Ruth and I went to South Street Arts to see comedian Laura Solon doing her live show ‘Rabbit Faced Story Soup’. Have to confess to being unfamiliar with Laura prior to the show, although Ruth had heard and liked her on the radio. The show was entertaining although I struggled briefly to keep awake during part of it – less a reflection on Laura than on our not-so-light pre-show supper (see next paragraph).

For a (supposedly light, but actually quite heavy) pre-show supper, we ended up going to the Art of Siam, a Thai restaurant in Reading’s ‘The Walk’ shopping centre. The last time I went there was the night before my BA graduation in 1996 – am surprised that it’s survived given that the shopping centre has never managed to successfully fill its units for any length of time. When it first opened, it was peach-coloured and named ‘King’s Walk’ – as of a few years ago, it’s now black and named ‘The Walk’, presumably in an effort to revitalise it. It has a website stating that it is designed to “suit the needs of upmarket specialist retailers” (given the fortunes of the centre, I'd suggest that there aren't enough people in Reading who shop at such retailers). It’s also described as “a shining light in Reading” – ironic, given the new black décor. At least, since the Oracle was built, the balcony of the first floor ‘Dolce Vita’ restaurant (originally a brasserie, now a pizzeria) no longer looks out straight into a multi-storey car park – bit of a design blunder, that one.

Digressing rather: Retrowow mentions the car park in question, the Yield Hall car park, and its bigger brother the Chatham Street car park, apparently built by the same designer. When we used to come into Reading for the day as kids, Mum usually used to park in the Chatham Street car park. Even by the 1970s, I remember it seeming scruffy and smelling of wee. I suppose the exterior design was quite cool in a way though. Both car parks have now been demolished.

The master bedroom now has two cool new Walnut S side tables from Dwell. Had almost given up my quest to find a bedside table after last year’s Furniture Today fiasco (did eventually cancel the order in question, after the replacement failed to turn up because they had forgotten to load it onto the van – thanks, that was a day of my annual leave) but have become keen on Dwell’s modern, decent quality and generally rather super furniture – we also purchased an office chair recently to replace the old and mysteriously stained Staples number.

It was a weekend of targeted destruction in the house, with the master bedroom fireplace and the third bedroom ceiling both coming a cropper. With the recent passion for all things Victorian looking set to continue, I had thought that it might enhance the house to have an open fireplace in the master bedroom – not actually to USE or anything, just to look good. The fireplace had, unfortunately, been bricked rather than boarded up, so Ruth knocked the cr*p out of it while I ferried the rubble downstairs in buckets and into an open Hippo bag in the front garden (v. useful, these, especially if you don’t have a car). The plan is to re-use the cast-iron fireplace that we removed from the second bedroom last year – for now it’s just wedged into the gap but will be properly fitted at a later date. Harley has already found out how to wriggle under the fireplace into the rubble-y space underneath – in fact he showed a keen interest in the whole process and was not noticeably deterred by the noise and dust. I remain in doubt as to whether his level of fearlessness is a good thing in a small prey animal.

To keep my end up, I dismantled an old and cheap IKEA chest of drawers that had had its day. All went smoothly once Ruth had pointed out which bits required an allen key rather than a screwdriver. Well, I mean. I’m used to having men do this kind of thing.

As the Hippo bag wasn’t full, Ruth also decided to take down the ceiling in the third bedroom, the possible new-bathroom-to-be. The job was necessary labour as we want both insulation and a Velux window fitted, but appallingly messy and dirty. Am currently giving the room a wide berth, although we will have to clear the rubble away this coming weekend. It’s definitely not my home office any more.

Statistics; tree relocation; Hip and Thigh

The bunnies’ concerted work on the dining room wallpaper continues – managed to photo them ‘in flagrante’ last week. They looked round briefly when I took the photograph, but obviously decided that I posed no serious threat and carried on.

Went on a day's statistics training last Thursday at Reading's Statistical Services Centre, which proved a useful refresher, and we were able to download the SSC's useful Excel add-in SSC-Stat. I have to say my head does not naturally get itself round such probably elementary notions as confidence intervals, so the occasional refresher is useful.

Saturday morning saw the re-homing of a small silver birch tree from the garden, a job that has been on the to-do list for a while but delayed by necessity to wait until sap had stopped rising and then necessity to wait until ground had thawed enough to get a spade into. I had been keen that the tree should go to a good home and my boss Paul came up trumps by offering it a home in a small patch of local woodland owned by his mother-in-law. Ruth and Ray dug it up and tied the root ball, while I, true to form, made tea and watched helpfully. The tree was then loaded into Ray's van - my estimate of its height as being around 7 feet was pointed out, in unnecessarily blunt terms, to have been slightly inaccurate - and driven to its new location, where Paul had helpfully already dug a hole of just the right size. A seamless procedure.

Last night's Book Group meeting was enlivened by the hostess' having taken up Rosemary Conley's Hip and Thigh Diet, so the table was laden with more chopped raw vegetables than I think I've ever seen gathered in one place, together with Weight Watchers crisps, low-fat dips made with yoghurt and pure air, etc. Luckily there were a few other more tempting offerings available for those of us who eschew diets. Dessert, along with the usual array of chocolates, fondant fancies and mini-Victoria sponge cakes, included Weight Watchers brownies, which caused a certain amount of intrigue - suspected that they are low-calorie mainly by dint of being about the size of a postage stamp.

My only flirtation with the Stepford-esque Ms Conley's hugely successful diet was over 20 years ago, not long after it came out, when Mum and I briefly decided to go on it. Neither of us lasted very long. There's a brief and not particularly complimentary summary of the diet's main features here.

Wednesday 27 January 2010

King's Road; Building regulations; Ashmolean

On Saturday Ruth and I went up to the King’s Road for a browse around Heal’s and Habitat with the specific aim of identifying a set of crockery that pleased both of us. Disconcertingly, we managed to agree on a set (the Thomas Loft range) quite quickly, so were then left to aimlessly browse for a few more hours to justify the train ticket. I am still awaiting the moment when I can justify spending £1000 on a Forum armchair - hasn’t arrived yet so I just enjoy stroking them whenever I visit Habitat. Ruth fell in love with a sofa in After Noah, forcing me to issue a reminder about the as yet unused sofa that was an impulse buy in Winchester two years ago and is currently in storage at her parents’ house.

I did purchase a couple of obscenely expensive bagels from The Grocer on Kings – beautifully chewy, unlike supermarket ones, but unfortunately not really viable as a regular purchase.

There are a number of attractive streets leading off the King’s Road, of which one of the most interesting-looking is Glebe Place – we took a brief detour for a bit of a stroll down here. It contains a number of former artists' studios, and an amazingly ornate folly at one end - I didn't take a picture but there's one here. 55 Glebe Place was up for sale last year, for a cool £17 million.

Had a brief meeting on Monday afternoon at Reading Borough Council’s offices with a surveyor from the Building Control department, who gave us some advice on the building regulations implications of our proposed turning-bedroom-3-into-new-bathroom project. Potentially the most annoying aspect is that now, it constitutes a breach of building regulations to move a bathroom upstairs without retaining a toilet on the ground floor (something to do with disability access). Luckily, the latest iteration of our plans does involve turning the single-storey extension at the back of the house (currently the bathroom) into a utility area with a cute weeny cloakroom in the corner, so we are all set to comply. Hard not to see this sort of thing as slightly ridiculous, though, particularly when applied to Victorian terraces, countless numbers of which (including the houses either side of ours) have installed a bathroom in the original third bedroom some years ago without having to have one on the ground floor. Presumably, like smoking, it wasn’t as bad back then.

Had team photo taken yesterday for use in our upcoming Annual Report. As usual, everyone else managed to smile naturally at the camera, while I managed to look as though I was about to be shot. Created this alternative version (below), which I slightly prefer:


This morning, paid my termly visit to Wheatley for the meeting of Aimhigher MKOB's Implementation and Evaluation Group, then took advantage of the expenses-paid train ticket to visit the newly-refurbed Ashmolean. The £61 million redevelopment is now complete and open to the public. I shall isolate three things that were of interest:

• The fascinating collection of little Cycladic figures in the 'Aegean World' gallery - bought this slightly naughty postcard
• The collection of 'English guitars' in the 'Music and Tapestry' gallery - I'd never seen these before; here's an online image I found. Wikipedia notes that the English guitar (alt. spelling 'guittar') was a small cittern that was fashionable between 1750 and 1790, most notably in the British Isles (figures).
• The apparent existence of a wrathful Buddhist deity named Dam can dorje legs pa - what a name. This webpage on the deity gives his name an alternative and slightly more sensible spelling. Imagine having to introduce yourself thus:
  "Name's Barry. Pleased to meet you."
  "Dam can dorje legs pa. Good to meet you too."
  His name, it says here, means 'oath-bound benign thunderbolt'.

Managed to include tea and something chocolatey in the basement café. For future reference, I'd note that the basement ladies' toilets don't appear to have been included in the refurb.

Tapas; blockages; women's groups

Claire and I went for the ‘Tapas for a Tenner’ deal at La Tasca last Thursday evening but I wouldn’t recommend the Tempranillo Rosé Monterio – vilely acidic and with the ‘ripe summer berries’ not much in evidence. Having said that we still drank the bottle, plus an Amaretto each to round things off.

Saturday started badly when Ruth noticed water flooding from the outside drain while I was showering. Concluded blockage. In an impressive display of brute force, Ruth eventually got the manhole cover off to reveal flooding/blockage of an unpleasant nature. Gail and Rob kindly picked up some drainage rods for us from HSS Hire and we applied them to the drain. I say ‘we’, but actually I was dispatched into Caversham to do some shopping – evidently I look too feminine and/or squeamish (and/or plain useless) for such activities. Arrived home laden with groceries and meadow hay¹ to find Ruth triumphantly washing the rods, having managed to clear the blockage.

Also noticed on Saturday morning that the snow had brought down a section of guttering at the back of the house. Have been assured by our neighbour Nicki that her new lodgers will fix it when they move in.

Previous time said manhole cover had had to be removed was on Christmas Eve 2006 when a toilet freshener fell down the toilet and blocked it, leading to amusingly farcical series of unblocking efforts. See Dave's write-up here. One of my chief memories is of my poor father, who was probably lying on the floor at the time with his arm around the U-bend, being berated by my mother for ‘allowing’ Ray, who had just had an operation, to go outside to assist.

Ruth and I went for dinner and an overnight stay on Ray’s boat on Saturday evening. I was surprised to see that the marina – or at least, the narrowboat section – was still frozen. The ice looked fairly solid, although obviously I didn’t test it out. Apparently cats had been seen sauntering across it, and I saw a couple of swans having a set-to on it – perhaps irritated by the solidity of the water. A highlight of the evening was having first ‘go’ on the newly-installed toilet – seemed to go all right although Ray impressed on us that remembering to click the ‘open’ button is crucial.

As of this week, the rabbits have begun stripping the wallpaper off the dining room wall. As this room is probably last on the list to be re-decorated, this is slightly annoying. Have told Lola that if she starts, she has to finish – may purchase small pulley contraption to enable her to reach higher sections of wall.

Went for a nice walk around Sonning Common and Rotherfield on Sunday courtesy of a Berkshire women’s walking group which I have finally galvanised myself into joining. We returned to the less-than-inspiring Butcher’s Arms in Sonning Common for Sunday lunch (two packets of mini Cheddars, in my case).

May have done something sacrilegious this week in joining an additional Book Group (henceforth to be known as Secondary Book Group, or SBG). Saw an ad for a new group starting up and thought I would take the opportunity to be exposed to a potentially different range of texts - although whether I will actually manage to read two books a month remains to be seen. The chair has chosen a Stella Duffy crime novel for the first book, which hopefully shouldn't be too demanding.

This week’s ‘Gem of the Day’ from McGonagall Online was ‘Women’s Suffrage’, Though an inept poet, McGonagall was evidently a supporter of this, so fair play to him. Was particularly charmed by verses 8 and 9, which I reproduce here. The full text of the poem can be seen here.

Yes, the Home Secretary of the present day,
Against working women's deputations, has always said- nay;
Because they haven't got the parliamentary Franchise-,
That is the reason why he does them despise.

And that, in my opinion, is really very unjust;
But the time is not far distant, I most earnestly trust,
When women will have a parliamentary vote,
And many of them, I hope, will wear a better petticoat.


¹ For the rabbits.

Snow aplenty; home exercise equipment; Birkbeck

Snow theme continues as we had a humdinger (for these parts) of a snowfall on the evening/night of Tuesday 5th, resulting in mass snowings-in of cars the following day. I elected to work from home myself on the Thursday, due partly to almost putting back out twice skidding on packed snow the night before, and partly to an edict from the Vice-Chancellor saying that any staff who were able to work from home that day should do so. We went for a lunchtime stroll in Balmore Walk, a local park, and watched people tobogganing down the steep hill. Wouldn’t have fancied it myself – but then I always was excessively risk-averse about such things. Remember a sledging evening during a school ski trip in 1984, which most of the rest of the group seemed to enjoy mightily but I remember hating every minute of it. My sledge partner, a boy, was charmingly gallant from what I recall. Alex (or was it Alec?) Livermore, you’re a gent – even if you were sick in the coach on the way to the airport.

Having had a bit of backache lately I finally decided to try out the Casall Gym Ball I bought some months ago, but had not up until now got around to using. It comes with a handy little booklet with amusing diagrams of positions one should adopt vis-à-vis the ball. I think I only rolled off once. Supposedly they are good for toning core muscles, so I should probably persist with it. Should also probably know better than to acquire home exercise equipment, as from experience (both mine and others), there just isn’t the incentive to work out that there is in a class/gym. It started off with Kathy Smith’s ‘Body Basics’, a 1980s aerobics video that my sister and I acquired as teenagers – my main memory of it is of us sitting out the high impact section and watching it from the vantage point of the couch, eating toast. I actually still have the video, which I will probably keep out of nostalgia. Later, Ray had a rowing machine for a while, which soon got stashed behind the couch out of sight once we had stubbed toes on it once too often. My parents acquired an abdominiser some years ago, but apparently it has rarely been used. It used to be in their bedroom, but I think Mum found it was only being used as a clotheshorse. I gather recently it has been consigned outside to my father’s office.

Spent Tuesday morning this week at a meeting at Birkbeck College (now seemingly just calling itself Birkbeck, perhaps in manner of Emmerdale Farm/Emmerdale). Enjoyed being able to walk around freely, due to complete absence of snow in central London. Arriving a little early, I had a delicious cup of coffee and chocolate wafers in the ground floor café area, which is furnished with (presumably reproduction) Swan chairs which I’d never sat in before but which seemingly provide wonderful back support – could have sat there all day. Birkbeck’s ground floor has had a swish 21st-century refurb; as one goes higher up the Malet Street building (my meeting was on the third floor), parts look as though they haven’t had much done to them since the 1950s.

The initial charm of the snow is now starting to wear off due to the inconvenience of walking on packed snow and ice. Here are fellow walkers trudging across Christchurch Meadows at 7.30am this morning. A thaw and heavy rain is forecast for the weekend, so presumably the Snow Crisis might be swiftly followed by the Flood Crisis.

Ice; Christmas; Lush

Following swiftly on from the previous post: by Christmas Eve, the light shower of rain the night before had rendered the still-iced pavements lethal and almost impossible to walk on – the walk to the car hire company a few streets away took around 20 minutes of shuffling along clinging to hedges and railings. Surprisingly, I only fell over once, although I did eventually resort to walking in the road, figuring I’d take my chances with the traffic.

Late afternoon on Christmas Eve we went to visit Ruth’s late Uncle Mac’s grave, high up on the Berkshire Downs. On a clear day, there are apparently amazing views but even on a dull wintry afternoon it was an atmospheric spot.

Spent a pleasant Christmas Eve/Day with Ruth’s family at Ashbury, starting off with an early evening drink at the Rose & Crown. In somewhat slack fashion, Ruth and I spurned Midnight Mass in favour of returning to the house for a smoked trout supper and an early night. The house is a lovely old house but inadequately heated (at least for us namby-pamby centrally-heated townies), so I spent a fair amount of Christmas morning huddled near the drawing room fire in an effort to keep warm. To amuse myself, spent a while tinkering with the baby grand, although as it’s more than 20 years since I played the piano regularly, was only able to manage some rather inexpert scales. I took Grades 2 to 5 of the ABRSM exams while in school, but by the time I reached Grade 5 was becoming, in teenage fashion, half-hearted about the whole thing and dropped piano after my O-level Music exam (having Grade 5 in an instrument used to exempt one from one of the exam papers; don’t know whether this is still the case with GCSE – is there even a GCSE Music?). With hindsight, of course, wish I had kept it up, but such is the wisdom of age (or something similarly philosophical). Am contemplating whether I could potentially fit a piano into the house - jury’s currently out on that one.

To return to Christmas Day: for lunch, we feasted on a capon, which is some sort of big debauched chicken, and then retired to the drawing room for liqueurs and present-opening. Have very little experience of liqueurs, but elected to sample some Bénédictine as the name sounds so romantic. For the first few sips, thought something along the lines of “Dear God”. After that, found the drink strangely pleasant and warming.

On Boxing Day morning, drove to my brother’s house in Newport for the traditional family Boxing Day walk, and more food. The walk was a low-level stroll around the Newport Wetlands RSPB nature reserve, chosen in part to give my father a chance to spot any interesting specimens of birdlife. There were certainly plenty of birds hopping about tantalisingly in the distance, but am not sure whether any of them were uncommon species. Have a lazy attitude to birdwatching and tend to lose interest if a rare specimen does not obligingly flutter down and settle on a fencepost right next to me. After the walk, we returned to the house for Trivial Pursuit and turkey risotto.

On arriving at Reading Rabbit Rescue to collect the rabbits after their Christmas break, we found Sandra, one half of the devoted team, restraining Lola in a headlock while plucking clumps of fur out of her backside. She advised us that we really should groom Lola more at home and tried to demonstrate the correct method, while Ruth and I looked sceptical and I noted that Lola was by no means easy to handle. Sandra seemed faintly disbelieving and proceeded to murmur to Lola what a good-natured bunny she was. We thought we detected a flash of evil in what we could see of Lola’s eyes, plus a “don’t think you’re ever trying this at home” look.

Have briefly considered New Year resolutions this past week, but have concluded that it’s probably best not to set myself any unrealistic goals. Briefly discussed with Kate at lunch last Wednesday whether we might perhaps go to the gym more often in January, before concluding that we probably won’t and will probably meet up for a glass of wine instead.

Went for a pleasant albeit muddy walk with Ray on New Year’s Eve around Clayfield Copse and Dunsden (pictures here). We parked at the recreation ground on Caversham Park Road and strode enthusiastically into a sea of mud, but our spirits weren’t dampened too much. Clayfield Copse is a small nature reserve that used to be part of the Caversham Park estate. Part of the copse is apparently designated ancient woodland. It has a sculpture trail that includes this cute wooden owl. The Friends of Clayfield Copse apparently meet there once a month to do worthy conservation-type activities. We walked through the copse and skirted Blackhouse Wood to join Foxhill Lane and then cut across country to Dunsden, where we had a quick walk around the churchyard of All Saints church before heading back to Caversham.

The porch of All Saints featured a copy of the ‘Table of Kindred and Affinity’ (apparently the 1949 version of the one in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer) setting out which relatives you may not marry under the laws of the Church of England. Makes one wonder whether there had been a particular prevalence locally of folks keeping it in the family.

Later that evening, I decided to ease myself into the New Year with a relaxing bath and decided to use the Lush bath bomb that somebody had given me for Christmas. Have always avoided Lush primarily due to the overpoweringly fruity stench that emanates from its shops, but in the interests of gratitude (and of using it up) decided to make use of the gift. The resulting bathwater was bright green (see pic) and smelt overwhelmingly of Refreshers¹. Probably not an experience I’ll repeat.

We celebrated Ruth’s birthday on Sunday with a late breakfast with Gail and Rob followed by a leisurely meander into Oxford where we visited Blackwell’s Art Bookshop to buy a 2010 calendar and, quite inadvertently, two books on interior design, before going to Brown’s for a late lunch.

Although today was the grand ‘going back to work’ day for many of the country’s office workers, I had booked the day off in an attempt to ease myself back in. On a whim I went for a walk around the nearby riverside villages of Pangbourne and Whitchurch-on-Thames, an area I know reasonably as my aunt, uncle and cousins used to live there some years ago. Whitchurch is a lovely-looking village where I wouldn’t at all mind living, if only I had a lot more money than I actually have. It was a freezing cold day but the trees were frosted in picturesque fashion. After the walk, stopped for coffee and cake at Lou La Belle, a pleasant light and airy café.

¹ Not sure whether these sherbety fizzy sweets are still made – haven’t attempted to buy them in years.