Locale; weekend in MK; weeds

Have now completed two weeks in so far quite agreeable new job. Walk to work involves a pleasant meander across Ouzel Valley Park (left), though I might be looking for a slightly better-lit meander come the winter months. The Ouzel is a surprisingly pretty river where I stopped to watch these cygnets last Friday evening.

Thanks to my line manager Judith, have located a cashpoint and a Tesco Express close to the flat, after initially thinking that there was nowhere that wasn’t a car drive away. It just involves nipping under the walkway under Groveway (H9, for those interested in MK grid roads) into the neighbouring suburb of Tinkers Bridge. A bit scruffy but useful to know about.

Ray drove up after work last Thursday for a visit and we went for a brief walk down the canal, before popping into The Plough for a drink. Toyed with the idea of having dinner there, but we unfortunately timed it badly and ended up arriving just behind a party of about 30 people with OU badges (a summer school?) who had evidently pre-ordered their dinners.

Travel stress on Friday evening when I drove to the station to collect Ruth from the London train in pouring rain and heavy traffic. Hadn’t managed to locate a car park close to the station, although presumably there is one, so ended up parking in one of the 15-minute only waiting bays at the front of the station, where I rang Ruth’s mobile circa 20 times without success – later learned that she had been standing packed in like a sardine and apparently couldn’t easily access her phone. Had to leave waiting bay; circled station a couple more times before locating long-stay car park at the back. Parked. Learned that minimum parking charge was £8.50. Left long-stay car park accompanied by restrained amount of cursing. Phoned Ruth and discovered train had just arrived. Headed back towards front of station; joined huge traffic jam trying to access station to pick up loved ones, etc. Illegally phoned Ruth from car (though stationary) inviting her to just come and meet me in the queue. A few minutes later she appeared out of the rain looking vaguely Heathcliff-like and got in.

On Saturday morning we caught the bus into Central Milton Keynes (or, as it appears to be known locally, ‘CMK’) to discover its delights. Meandered through shopping centre visiting assorted shops. Found the legendary concrete cows on temporary display at one end (I think usually they’re located beside one of the grid roads at the north end of town). Ruth failed to find wedding shoes, though we visited what must have been all the shoe shops in the centre (apart from the cheap places, obviously), but thankfully she had finally located a dress while shopping with Helen the day before. Stopped for lunch in The Place to Eat at John Lewis, which was a bit middle-aged of us but then it’s nice to take the weight off your feet.

On Sunday we went to Bletchley Park, which is more or less the nearest thing to where I’m living that might be classed as a tourist attraction. I think we went expecting Chatsworth-style glossiness, but hardly – despite the £12 per adult entry fee (plus £3 to park your car), it gives the impression of still being a project in development. We wandered over to visit Colossus – the National Museum of Computing is unfortunately timed-entry only on Sundays, so we passed, but it does sound quite interesting. Browsed around the rooms in the mansion that are open; then went for refreshments at the unassuming Hut 4 café before wandering back to the main exhibition in Block B (where, with hindsight, we should probably have started). Some interesting stuff there about wartime living. LOTS of detail about the Enigma and the whole code-cracking shenanigans, which I must confess to not really knowing much about.

Before leaving, Ruth squirted Resolva over the thistles and other weeds in my courtyard garden area which have really shot up in the recent rain. Suppose I should bear in mind that I am supposed to keep garden tidy. She claims that they’ll die off in a few days but if not to nuke them again.

Wednesday 15 June 2011

Wonderfoam; abandoned teddy bears; garden news

St John's, Whitchurch Hill

I now have the rest of my stuff installed at Old Groveway, thanks to Reading Man & Van. Was missing the foam mattress topper that I acquired shortly after moving to Maiden Place, which has officially done wonders for my back. The mattress at Maiden Place was pretty saggy, but I don’t quite understand how a fairly cheap lump of foam can seemingly be better than the quite expensive mattress on the bed at Westfield Road, but there you go. Had meant to bring my stuff up in stages over several weekends, but realised that was going to take forever so Ruth arranged for it to be delivered in one go. Man duly turned up with the foam, my big plant (a rather sick-looking dragon tree which is in need of some intense nurturing), my bicycle (which I have vague ambitions to use) and a number of boxes containing the stuff I hadn’t managed to fit in the car. Ruth had warned me in advance that she’d caught Harley having a bit of a nibble at the foam – evidence pictured.

Mr Snooze

Drove over to Pangbourne on Saturday morning for a late breakfast at The Ditty – suspect that it might have changed hands as I didn’t think the coffee was as nice as last time and the breakfast menu had changed, though the food still good. As we both felt in need of exercise we crossed the river into Whitchurch and walked up to Whitchurch Hill to visit my cousins’ memorial at St John’s Church. After a potter around the quite pleasant churchyard we walked back down into Pangbourne and returned to the car. Not far from the car we encountered a teddy bear that had been placed on the pavement against a lamppost. He appeared, judging by the ticket around his neck, to have been a raffle prize at Pangbourne Fete, which had been in full swing on the meadows when we crossed the river earlier. Horrified by the idea that someone could just abandon a teddy bear by the side of the road, I snatched him up and squirrelled him off into the car. Admittedly I have been accused more than once of being sentimental, but really. Mr Snooze (which, according to the adoption certificate round his neck, is his name) is now settled in my flat.

Concerned that the cordyline in the garden may have suffered badly during the relatively harsh winter – its leaves are not looking good. Worryingly, this advice from the RHS suggests wrapping the trunk in layers of fleece during severe winters, which we certainly didn’t do. Ray and I acquired the plant around seven years ago as a pot plant, and planted it in the garden when we moved to the house in 2005, where it promptly grew enthusiastically into a splendid specimen. Rather tragic if it’s finally been killed off by snow and ice, but Claire reckons that the one in her garden has also died.

Sticking with a garden theme: the cardoon that Ruth planted recently seems to be growing exponentially, and is starting to obscure the far more attractive oleander that Dad gave me a few years ago. May have to severely prune it when she isn’t looking, to perhaps an inch or two in height.

New car; various outings; start of Adventures in Milton Keynes

Bit of a blog-free few weeks; I blame the new job.

Ruth and I took the train to Abergavenny on Sunday 22^nd to meet the 2007 Ford Fiesta that Dad had sourced for me from his local man Mervyn. Although I haven’t owned a car for a number of years, it dawned on me after a couple of visits to Milton Keynes that it might be an excellent idea to acquire one, despite the expense – the town appears unashamedly designed for the car driver and the train journey back to Reading is somewhat convoluted, that is once you get to the railway station which is on the opposite side of town from my new flat and well out of walking distance.

Drove the little car back to Reading on the Monday, where I have subsequently been putting it to good use. In preparation, Ruth and I had spent a couple of days at weekends recently in the garage, clearing out the junk that seems to creep into garages if cars are not kept in them. I have been getting ample practice at the awkward reverse turn into it but appear to have almost cracked it, though it’s made extremely challenging if as often happens there’s a car parked outside the garage opposite. At the moment the car is awkwardly pressed up against sacks of rabbit dung, and I think the garage door needs replacing sooner rather than later, but at least it has a home of sorts.

Met at Sarah’s flat in Winnersh for Book Group on 24^th, where we discussed Dawn French’s 'Dear Fatty' – or at least the others did, I had barely got 20 pages into it but I blame impending move, new job etc. Sarah was partway into a six-week temp job selling event space, which sounded frightful to me but seemed to be helping her fill in the time before her impending wedding. Lesley related an amusing story from a job interview she had had the previous week, where she had intended to say “fruits of my labours” but had accidentally substituted the word “loins”, which we agreed was not the best interview word.

Went to the Newbury Corn Exchange on the Thursday to see ‘The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church’, a 90-minute monologue performed without a break by Daniel Kitson, an odd nervy chap with a stammer and possibly borderline ASD. Enjoyed it on the whole as there were witty parts, though it did go on a bit. Kitson seemed severely distracted by any audience movement, laying into one audience member for checking texts on their mobile (admittedly hard to see why some people are incapable of turning them off even for an hour or so) and another for rustling a sweet packet. Ruth and I did at least manage to keep quiet, though I think I fidgeted for a lot of the time, partly due to the extreme lack of leg room and partly due to indigestion following the speed at which we had been forced to bolt down dinner thanks to Ruth’s having to work late.

Drove over to The Malt Shovel at Upper Lambourn on Saturday 28^th for a lunch for Mrs Millard’s 70^th birthday. Food was good; service was abysmal though that probably wasn’t the fault of the struggling teenage girl who seemed to be the only person in charge of us. Gail had ordered a cake and champagne to follow the meal, which did eventually manage to turn up following some behind-the-scenes prompting from her, and not at the same time.

Ruth and I drove up to Milton Keynes on both the Sunday and the Monday of the Spring Bank Holiday weekend to shift stuff. It is on record that on the Sunday I was brave enough to drive to IKEA where I bought a dining set and a cheap mini chest of drawers, which Ruth assembled for me despite commenting for some time afterwards about IKEA’s appallingness. Shamefully we lunched on McDonald’s two days running, which should serve as my quota for the next year or so.

Lunch at Blandford's

Had a team lunch at Blandford’s in Park House on the Wednesday for my impending departure, though our team numbers are pretty low these days. Blandford’s is the university’s attempt at a dead posh eaterie and I have to say the food was very nice, though perhaps rather over artfully presented. Ann made a nice speech about my professionalism and integrity, which sounded good.

As Friday 3^rd also, ironically, ended up being Ruth’s last day at CfBT, I went to join her and a few others for drinks at the Allied Arms after work, although her main ‘do’ had been on the Thursday lunchtime. Pleasant sunny evening in the pub garden but unfortunately it proved to be a stonker of a day for hay fever – Ruth’s friend Maia and I spent most of the evening sneezing and blowing our noses. The Allied, a small traditional pub in St Mary’s Butts, has a special association for Ruth and me as we had our first drink together there after the Fast Track Away Day in 2006. And gave Peter Crick the slip, or so we were told later.

Much of my last week at Progress South Central was also spent frantically clearing and cleaning my flat at Maiden Place, as Parkers had succeeded in finding another tenant for it but, most inconsiderately, they wanted to move in this week. Ruth and I spent Saturday clearing the final bits of stuff out of the place and moving back in the bits and pieces that I’d consigned to our attic for the duration of my tenancy. We were delayed by being unable to find the kettle that I know was there at the start of the tenancy but that appears to have vanished off the face of the earth – eventually, annoyingly, had to send Parkers a note to the effect that they’d have to dock me the cost of a kettle.

We chilled out in the evening by joining Ray on his boat for a pootle up the Thames towards Sonning where, most excitingly, we moored up to spend the night. We were intending to barbecue dinner but after Ray had had several unsuccessful attempts at lighting one, including building a small windbreak, we gave up and grilled stuff. It also turned a bit chilly during the course of the evening, meaning that Ruth and I had to beg a selection of fleeces and woolly socks. Ray always seems able to flit about in T-shirts and shorts in quite chilly weather, perhaps due to having worked outdoors since he was 16.

On the Sunday morning we chugged back up to the marina where we met the cygnets that were eggs in the last post. Then it was back to the house and cramming the rest of my essentials into the already long-suffering Fiesta for the drive up to Milton Keynes, which we did, unpacked after a fashion and then took a walk, in the rain, to The Plough, where we had burgers and a fair amount of wine. I dropped Ruth at the station on the Monday morning and returned to my new home where I sorted stuff out as far as possible.

One point to note about MK so far: although it seems designed to strike terror into walkers by the sheer distances, and number of concrete underpasses, involved, it seems an absolute dream to drive around. Was able to take one look at the map after I'd dropped Ruth at the station and drive back to my flat, which I don't think would have happened in any other town that I wasn't familiar with. The grid system certainly seems to simplify things once one works out how it works.

Am now officially on the payroll of The Open University (again) and have done two days. I have to say everyone seems very friendly and helpful; nice to be part of a bigger team again. Tonight I have been out with about 7 other members of the team to see Milton Keynes Amateur Operatic Society perform 'Footloose' at Stantonbury Campus, an enormous secondary school on the north side of the town - indeed it is apparently the largest school in the UK. I went more to appear friendly and up for things than because I was particularly enthused at the prospect of an amateur musical, but actually it was quite slick for an amateur production and better than I expected. Hadn't had much exposure to amateur operatics since a couple of productions Ray and I saw at the Kenton while we were living in Henley, both dire, in particular a production of 'Carousel' - HAODS seemed to suffer from the probably quite common problem of having insufficient numbers of younger men, with the result that the 'young' bucks high-kicking at the clambake were all of pensionable age. I remember, among attempts to stifle laughter, worrying about them putting their hips out.

May morning; Nino's; rabbit show-jumping

Ruth and I duly tuned in to the Royal Wedding on the 29^th and joined the rest of the country in exclaiming over Kate, Pippa, Princess Beatrice’s headpiece and the Tiny Frowning Bridesmaid.

For the second year running, Ray and I presented ourselves at Forbury Gardens at 5.30am on 1 May to see the Kennet Morris Men dance in May Day. This year, most of the troupe had been camping at the Beer & Cider Festival and turned up late and evidently quite hung over. Around four or five of us turned up to watch, though we were joined briefly by a gang of urban youth on their way home to London, who evidently had never seen Morris dancing before. Later in the day Ruth and I joined Ray on his boat for what had been intended to be a nice trip up the Thames to Sonning and an overnight stay, but in the event it was too windy. Not exactly a gale, but apparently narrowboats don’t handle wind well if it hits them at the wrong angle – more than one person at the marina had evidently got into difficulties controlling their boat so Ray was warned not to go out. Instead, we went for a drink at the revamped marina bistro, now named The Boaters, and Ruth took this photograph of a swan on its nest rearranging its eggs.

Ray and I got to do another restaurant review for the Chronicle on Tuesday 3rd, this time at Nino’s, an independently-owned Italian restaurant that’s been in Reading’s Market Place since 1980. Have been there a couple of times before, but neither very recently. Left feeling slightly ashamed of this fact as it is really lovely – a cosy traditional Italian with gorgeous food. The diminutive and quite elderly owner Nino greeted us on arrival – admittedly, they knew that reviewers for the Chronicle were due, so that may not have been standard, but on speaking to him later we gathered that he is still in the restaurant himself most days. We took a number of pictures of the food to send to the paper, so here’s one of my insalata tricolore starter and one of Ray’s paper-wrapped spaghetti al cartoccio, evidently one of the restaurant’s specialities.

Having been slightly stung last time by apparently not writing enough, I went slightly the other way this time and sent Sharon a couple of pages of effusive prose, which she evidently had to edit. Most of the final result (see right) is recognisable as mine, except the opening sentence - and God only knows where the title came from, as I have never yet described anything as a 'refreshing family experience', nor did I make any reference in my notes to the restaurant's family-friendliness. Perverse modern tendency to want to slip the word 'family' in everywhere.

Hosted Book Group at the flat on 5 May – my ambitions to produce home-baked quiches had fallen by the wayside due to intrusion of work, realism, etc, so we had an assortment of M&S quiche, cocktail sausages, crisps and dip, some dry cupcakes I had baked in joint honour of the Royal Wedding and Helen’s birthday, and some shortbread Helen herself had brought back from a birthday trip to Scotland. Our discussion of Elizabeth Wurtzel’s Prozac Nation was a little disappointing – while not exactly drawn to Elizabeth, I had thought the book could spark some intelligent discussion around plausible causes of depression, the rights and wrongs of medication, etc, but mine and Claire M’s attempts at this couldn’t compete with the Daily Mail-esque rantings of certain other members of the group. May have to join more cerebral book group.

We celebrated Ruth’s successful interview at HCT Group on 6 May with an outing to the London Pet Show at the Olympia on the Saturday. Heaving with people, including a good many children, but we managed to find some bits to enjoy before we eventually fled screaming from the crowds. Various breeds of dog and cat on show – I joined the crowds huddled around an unfortunate Sphynx – not much of a day for the poor thing, being looked at by crowds of people going “Eeuww” - and fell for a lovely chunky British Shorthair – how gorgeous are these cobby fellows? The highlight of the day (for us, at least) was Rabbit Show Jumping – we gathered at 1pm around the Small Furries arena to watch a crack team of Swedish bunnies take on – and I have to say resoundingly thrash – a team of British bunnies. The Swedish bunnies jumped the fences with seeming ease, whereas the British lot showed a distressing tendency either to refuse the fence until all but one bar had been removed, or to veer off altogether and start eating hay.

We had had enough of the show after a few hours and took off down Kensington High Street, where we failed to find wedding outfits but did call into The Goat where Ruth had the Mini Pie Platter (right).

Two nice dinners out last week - one with Ruth at Bella Italia on Wednesday (still celebrating) and one with Claire at Prezzo on Thursday. Met up with a couple of guys from Claire's local beforehand, both crusty types who both apparently live on boats, currently moored somewhere up near Kennet Mouth. Mentioned them to Ray on Friday, to be greeted by low muttering - Ray is rapidly becoming a purist boat type who disapproves of people who have scruffy boats, dogs on lengths of string, etc.

Headed up to Milton Keynes again on Friday to check in to my new property, having discovered that the agency don’t do check-ins at weekends (blithering idiots; obviously they prefer letting to the unemployed). Had to beg Paul for a day off, which kindly he has allowed me to take in lieu rather than filing it as unpaid leave. Ray offered me a lift again – not sure how he is rearranging the work, but I didn’t ask questions – and we took the pleasanter cross-country via Watlington/M40/A43 route this time, stopping at Cherwell Valley services (still housed in a temporary building after it burned down last year) for Costa coffee and panini. Arrived back at my little box in Simpson, where I duly did the paperwork and we then headed to the Milton Keynes branch of IKEA (Yes! I have an IKEA 5 minutes down the road!) which was blessedly quiet, and I bought some essential (obviously) bits of chunky white furniture. Returned to flat to assemble furniture, which really just involved me holding things and handing over the odd screw. For his trouble, I did treat Ray to meatballs, berries and gravy at IKEA and a cup of tea and slice of cake at a nearby Tesco Extra – can’t say I don’t treat people well ... Long but productive day; only hitch was that it turned out I had bought my Expedit bookcase¹ in the wrong colour so we had to make a return trip to exchange it, which did at least enable Ray to indulge in a spot of trolley-surfing.

Uneventful week so far but very happy to have just come across the theme music to the BBC’s 70s kids' show 'Screen Test' while browsing YouTube. Loved this show, and had quite a crush on Michael Rodd. Am incidentally only forced into browsing YouTube because my TV reception has died again, and obviously reading a book would be just geeky.

¹ Been wanting an excuse to buy one of these for ages. Surely a modern classic.

Fulham and Putney; further flat-hunting; Easter weekend activities

Met Helen at Putney Bridge tube station on Saturday 16^th to go and visit Fulham Palace, the home until 1973 of the Bishops of London. I’d never heard of the place until recently when Mum mentioned it to me, but thought it might serve a purpose as somewhere vaguely cultural to head for. We had a lovely lunch in the very civilised Drawing Room Café before going for a poke about those of the Palace’s rooms that are open, including the Great Hall and various Bishops' sitting/dining rooms. A lot of the surrounding grounds, including the walled garden, seemed to be undergoing maintenance when we visited, but we managed to have a bit of a poke about. Rather nicely, the whole thing was free of charge (well, except lunch, which we had to pay for).

After leaving the Palace we walked along the Thames back to Putney Bridge, then along Putney’s Embankment for a while where we saw a blue plaque celebrating a Fred Russell, allegedly the Father of Modern Ventriloquism (as opposed to Ancient?). Wandered up Putney High Street and had tea at a nice café on Upper Richmond Road that I’ve forgotten the name of – although actually I think it was Wallace and Co - before going home from East Putney tube.

Two blessed Closure Days on 20^th and 21^st meant that I felt obliged to seize the opportunity to return to Milton Keynes for another assault on its rental housing stock. Ray kindly offered to drive me, which saved me a hefty train fare and allowed us to stop for a vile breakfast at Toddington services on the way – one to be avoided in future, although in fairness it did have a Costa which with the wisdom of hindsight, we should have used. (The 'comments' section on Toddington's entry on www.motorwayservices.info is amazing, especially 'Edna Browne's rant - seems somewhat obsessed (excited?) by the prospect of naughty goings-on in public toilets. I have to say I did visit the toilets and they didn't stand out particularly in either direction.)

Lined up viewings of 7 or 8 flats, although in the end we only ended up seeing 4 as I decided that I liked the second, a little c.70s flat-roofed one-bedroomed house in quite a cunning little development in Simpson, within walking distance of the OU and, almost as importantly, Simpson Village and a decent-seeming pub called The Plough, where we had lunch. As the rent is only £550/month I had assumed before seeing it that there was something wrong with it, but have concluded that’s just the difference in prices from Reading and probably the flat roof, as I understand these can put people off (philistines). Fascinating fact taken from Simpson's Wikipedia entry: apparently the civil parish of Simpson also includes West Ashland, which is distinguished by containing the national headquarters of Domino's Pizza.

Felt a bit sorry for the agent who showed us around the third and scheduled-to-be-fourth flats we viewed, in Wooton Court in New Bradwell (much too far from the OU but I'd booked the viewings in some desperation). The first of the two was still tenanted by a chap who had evidently just cooked up a big vat of boiled fish, as the place stank - this coupled with the fact that all the curtains were still drawn and half the living room was taken up with a c. 60-inch TV made the place appear more than a little oppressive. On our way to the second flat, in the same development, the agent saw fit to tell me that it had until recently been inhabited by a woman who had had to be evicted because she was "living like a tramp" and the place had been given an initial clean but wasn't totally clean as yet. Way to market a flat. I immediately had visions of a Life of Grime/Homes from Hell-type scenario involving rooms stacked to the ceiling with rubbish, and became rather less keen on the flat before I'd even seen it. Luckily, we were fated not to see it at all, as the locks had been changed and the agent couldn't get in. Eventually followed the poor sweating chap back to his car, chuckling inwardly.

Took Ruth out to Quattro in the evening to discuss CfBT’s latest machinations and make defiant plans involving much clinking of wine glasses.

Got the train to Abergavenny on the Thursday morning and was met by Mum, who immediately whisked us off to give Waitrose a thorough going-over. We then drove to Wormbridge to have lunch at the Galanthus Gallery and Café – lovely lunch; neither of us was particularly struck by the art on show but we had a polite peruse anyway. Returned to the house to have tea with Dad and inspect the cats – Emrys has lost weight recently and has been taken to the vet for a battery of tests designed to identify thyroid problems (common in older cats), but has been pronounced clean for the moment, I sensed almost frustratingly for Mum given the cost of the tests. Lydia also appeared somewhat slimmer than she was last year (something to be encouraged) though still a sturdy lass.

Another sunny day on Good Friday and we went for a pleasant walk up from Peterchurch to the top of the ridge looking eastwards down into the Wye Valley. Stopped for a picnic before making our way back down into Peterchurch past Greenway Farm (whoever owns it really needs to tidy the place up - farmhouse looked nice enough but land littered with abandoned cars, caravans and assorted random machinery) and down Mowbage Lane where Dad had a chat with a nice old chap about the flowers in his garden. Called in at the Nags Head for a refreshing drink before walking back to the car park in Peterchurch.

On Easter Sunday I started, with the help of the hot steamy machine, stripping the wallpaper off the upstairs hallway in the house. Came off pretty well. Inevitably ended up wondering why, since I’ve hated the stuff for the five years I’ve lived there, I haven’t tried removing it before.

Since Sunday until time of writing I have been, unusually, afflicted with a cold and sore throat, so the remainder of the Bank Holiday weekend was a little devoid of activity. Curse this frailty.

Jobs; (mini) jackpot; further adventures in Milton Keynes

Book Group met at The Back of Beyond’s beer terrace on Thursday – it was supposed to be at Tamzin’s house but she appears to have gone to ground. The sudden onset of summery weather enabled us to sit outside for the whole evening, though we spent more time discussing everyone’s job situation than discussing the book. Few of us had made the time to tackle the book, Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol – I may or may not get around to reading it. As probably the only person in the country who hasn’t yet read The Da Vinci Code, I should probably read that one first.

Very excited on Friday to discover an envelope from NS&I with a slip inside announcing that one of my Premium Bonds had won a prize. I bought £500 of Bonds a couple of years ago and, obviously, have been awaiting a large payout ever since, even though various people have told me that I probably don’t own enough Bonds to make that likely. Eagerly scanning the enclosed cheque told me that I’d won £25. Better than a slap in the face, I suppose. Didn’t think it was worth re-investing it in new Bonds so spent it on Amazon instead, as any responsible citizen would.

Outing to Milton Keynes at the weekend, with a view to having a scout around some residential areas within reasonable distance of the OU. Bribed Ruth to get an early train with the prospect of breakfast at La Taaza; after the usual great coffee and fried bread fest we made our way over to Euston and thence to MK. Managed to catch a bus from the railway station to Tinkers Bridge (suspect strongly that I am going to miss Reading’s excellent council-run bus system) and walked across Woughton Park to Walton Hall, the Open University’s campus. Crossed over and then into Kents Hill Park and more green space, before making our way to the first of the day’s flat viewings, a shabby little hole on the ground floor of a c.1980s block. Left feeling somewhat depressed and asked the letting agent the way to the nearest café or pub. After walking for a good 15 minutes, we eventually reached Walnut Tree¹’s Local Centre, featuring three takeaways, a Ladbroke’s and a Hungry Horse called the Tawny Owl, to which we reluctantly headed and stepped over the assorted Staffies and crying children to order a drink. Felt it prudent to order a spot of lunch as we had another viewing at 2pm, but won’t be doing that again – Ruth did manage to get through most of her disgustingly pallid-looking scampi but I rapidly lost appetite for my extremely dry Cajun chicken salad and just-about-cooked chips. Left, vowing never to set foot in a HH again, and viewed another flat in the same development as the first, also a no-go.

Headed north through Monkston and the new-and-posh Monkston Park and then, after a brief sit down near this concrete flyover, into Woolstone, presumably one of the older villages that was swallowed up into Milton Keynes. Nice, though getting a bit far from Walton Hall at that point. Proceeded to Willen Lake and the Milton Keynes East Premier Inn, which I had booked us into for the night. Discovered on arrival that we appeared to have booked into some sort of lakeside fun park, as the lake area and the pub adjoining the hotel were heaving with young families. Did the only possible thing and retreated to our room, where Ruth took a nap and I took a bath. Later that evening we had an acceptable lasagne in the somewhat ravaged pub – managed with some effort to find a table that wasn’t surrounded by discarded chips. Retired to our room fairly early and watched CSI.

On the Sunday we had a somewhat irritable breakfast (I say “we” – actually it was entirely me being irritable) before walking back to Central MK via Campbell Park. Stopped off at a Costa for me to have a cup of coffee to take away the memory of the weak brown liquid the hotel restaurant had served up earlier. After a trip to Hawes & Curtis for Ruth to stock up on some more shirts we made our way back to Reading. Bit of a question mark over MK at the mo.

¹ Another suburb. MK seems to specialise in cutesy/weird names for its residential districts: there’s another one called Coffee Hall.

Singing; graduation; free dinner

April here already. Spring, young things, etc.

Ruth and I met Helen S at a crowded Lyndhurst on Friday for an early-evening dinner before heading to Claire’s choir’s concert at the Wesley Methodist Church over the road. The Lyndy’s food seems to have improved since its takeover a couple of years ago; had an acceptable chicken Caesar salad, though couldn’t detect the presence of any anchovies – wish these weren’t widely regarded in the UK as some sort of controversial exotic foodstuff. Helen seemed remarkably cheerful after her first day post-redundancy; had apparently managed to sign on successfully and appeared to have enjoyed a pleasant browse around the shops. We headed over to the church and joined Claire’s mother Chris at some quite good seats up in the gallery.

The Witt Studio’s End-of-Term Showcase included a large and diverse range of pieces, many of them solos, some by the Witt Studio Singers – billed as a ‘virtuoso vocal ensemble’ – and some by the full choir, the Witt Studio Chorus, of which Claire and her friend Kay are members. Ruth enjoyed Louise Herrington’s rendition of When You’re Good to Mamma, from Chicago – great voice, but I can’t be doing with that sort of stuff. Nay to musicals, and thrice nay to Gilbert & Sullivan – what was all that supposed to be about? I think my favourite number of the evening was David Lay’s rendition of With Joy Th’impatient Husbandman, from Haydn’s oratorio The Seasons, partly because I enjoyed the title.

Up to London on Saturday to see Claire graduate with her BSc (Hons) in Psychology from the Open University. As the ceremony wasn’t until the afternoon I took the opportunity to pop in to see Hannah and her latest flat. Flat nice if cosy. Stanley, Hannah’s cuddly sheep, is still filthy but she is reluctant to try cleaning products on him. Excitingly, Hannah was due to be doing a photo shoot of a nude man later that afternoon, I gather for a new ‘erotica for straight women’ magazine.

Walked from Hannah’s to the Barbican where I met up with Claire, her parents, her sisters Tanya and Fiona and her old friend Ann. The ceremony lasted a couple of hours and was OK – speeches not too long; lots of raucous cheering of graduands – much livelier than any of my graduation ceremonies. Afterwards we took the bus to Covent Garden and had a couple of drinks at the Punch and Judy with its balcony overlooking the Covent Garden Piazza. The pub was, unsurprisingly, packed so we were forced to stand huddled in a corner of the balcony for the time we were there, though we did manage to find a stool for Claire’s flagging mother. We went on to the Covent Garden branch of La Tasca for a nice dinner, though Claire and Fiona were evidently disappointed with the refurb it had apparently had since the last time they were there. Sampled a Crema Catalana liqueur, which I discovered smells and tastes like Angel Delight, so not an experience to be repeated.

Ruth and I went for a very pleasant walk around Whiteknights Lake on Sunday, including seeing some adorable ducklings who couldn’t have been more than a few days old. Had a look around the cave-type structure at the top end of the lake, presumably built as a garden feature at one point, and a brief look at Foxhill House.

Got to try my hand a being a restaurant critic on Tuesday evening. Ray’s sister Sharon now works for the Reading Chronicle and is in charge of the restaurant review spot. Sharon is apparently becoming concerned for her waistline after doing a number of the reviews herself, so has started farming them out to family and friends. Ray and I were given a crib sheet in advance of things to take note of, and duly presented ourselves at the Himalaya Momo House in The Walk at about 7pm. Proceeded to have a very nice meal plus a bottle of house wine (a French table wine with a ‘Himalaya MoMo House’ label cunningly stuck over it) ENTIRELY FREE. I could go for more of this.