Cookery; Thai food; Samhain

Met at Lesley’s flat on Thursday to discuss Sarah Waters’ The Night Watch, and eat spaghetti (actually penne) Bolognese with lashings of garlic bread. There seems to be a slightly worrying new trend emerging whereby whoever is hosting Book Group actually cooks food, as opposed to opening packets of crisps and dip or handing round the takeaway menu. Not sure how I’m going to handle this when it’s my turn, but given whole ongoing Milton Keynes extravaganza will probably be able to plead lack of time.

Seasonal display

Ruth and I went for an unnecessary dinner at the Suwanna on Friday evening, almost directly following on from one of our periodic vows to spend less money on eating out. Lovely food as always, especially the Weeping Tiger – the comment about the restaurant’s being overlit is about the only part of the eatmytown review above that’s accurate. The Old Siam in The Walk is more atmospherically lit, but I had indigestion for the rest of the evening the last time I ate there. I like the Thai Corner on West Street, but Ruth doesn’t. What can you do?

Marked Samhain this year by setting up a small display of black candle, mini pumpkin and autumn leaves on the coffee table at the flat – don’t have a fireplace here, but then the bunnies have ruled out fireplace displays anyway. Ray, who has become surprisingly enthusiastic about marking pagan festivals, came up for the evening to admire the display and mark the occasion. We didn’t indulge in any spells or incantations – largely because I don’t know any – but I read aloud the entry on Samhain from ‘Principles of Paganism’. This remarkable photograph (left) clearly shows a mystical beam of light emanating from my eyes, so something otherworldly may indeed have happened.

Classical music; hidden greenery; meandering

Met up with Ray and Auntie Barbara at Norden Farm Centre for the Arts on 13th, to hear a recital by The Rose Trio. They played a variety of pieces; my favourite was definitely the Vaughan Williams' Studies in English Folksong, played on bassoon with a piano accompaniment. Particularly admired bassoonist Tammy's pairing of bassoon (undeniably a sexy instrument) with a tight black satin dress. Was genuinely amazed to learn from Barbara that Maidenhead Music Society has been going since the 1940s; indeed, I gather she herself has been a member for most of that time.

While waiting for Ray and Barbara to arrive, I was amused by this flyer on a table encouraging me to Enjoy Maidenhead. Conveniently Mine, apparently.

Took advantage of the freakish week of late summer by taking a walk up through Bugs Bottom on the Saturday. B. Bottom, properly called Hemdean Bottom or Hemdean Valley, is a strip of green land with some woodland attached which seems to have mercifully escaped development, though a new housing development was built on its perimeters in the 1990s. Emerging at the far end onto Gravel Hill, I noted that this narrow country lane appears to have been permanently closed to traffic. I chickened out of walking up it as frankly, it looks a bit spooky now. One needs a few speeding cars for company.

On Friday 21st, went to a free lunchtime concert given by the Open University Orchestra. They opened with the Pirates of the Caribbean theme (the woman sitting next to me confided that it’s her favourite piece of music ever – fancy) and then played Dvorak’s Cello Concerto with visiting young hairy soloist Bartholomew Lafollette. I had been half-expecting the audience to be composed of a scanty 20 or so people and had partly gone along to show support, but the place was packed out and standing room only by the time of kick-off. Obviously a campus full of music lovers.

Day out in London on 22nd, though of a fairly goal-free variety: met Ray for another breakfast at the St Pancras branch of Carluccio’s, before wandering along Pancras Road past the back of the stations towards the Camley Street Natural Park, which I had come across while browsing Secret London. In fact we arrived slightly before it opened, so walked further along and came across the lovely St Pancras Gardens, a peaceful enclave tucked away behind St Pancras Station – we had it to ourselves the whole time we were there. Dutifully admired the elaborately mosaic-ed Burdett Coutts Memorial Sundial, and thought the tomb of Sir John Soane suitably atmospheric with its closed-off steps leading underground.

After that, Ray decided he wanted to walk to Tate Modern (spurning my suggestion of going up to Highgate to visit Pond Square, apparently haunted by a frozen chicken - next time), so we set off down Gray's Inn Road via St Andrew's Gardens and past the Mount Pleasant Sorting Office down to Smithfield Market where we veered off to have a quick mooch around the Barbican. During a break for a herbal tea and a bit of a rest, we decided we were knackered but that there was nothing for it but to carry on to Tate M anyway. By the time we finally arrived we couldn't be arsed to have a look around, so got on a bus straight back north, getting off on the Strand near Somerset House and nipping into the Thai Square for a delicious light lunch.

Had a domestic day in the flat on Sunday, making carrot and orange soup and a banana cake. Also found quite a pleasant walk up the canal a bit and then through Woughton on the Green and the northern part of Ouzel Valley Park. Still not sure about MK though.

Polyfilla; weekend stuff; local news

Managed to miss Book Group on 29^th through ending up being late with my checks on the Scottish Funding Council Final Figures and not leaving work until 7pm, by which time I was no longer in the mood to drive to Reading. Most annoying, as I had finished and quite enjoyed Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna. Instead went back to the flat and ate pasta with some leftover French beans, which definitely don’t go with pasta.

Had a welcome day off on Friday 30^th, though my planned spa day with Ruth’s birthday vouchers didn’t come off – evidently I’d left it too late to book the package I wanted at Nirvana Spa near Wokingham. Instead stayed at the house and met with Albert Klossi of A-S Building Services, a cheery young chap who had replied registering interest in our bathroom job when I had (apparently) logged it on MyBuilder.com last year and then promptly forgotten about it. Am hoping his cheerful ‘can do’ attitude is matched by extremely reasonable rates. Encouragingly, he invited us to go along on Saturday to visit his team’s current job on Highmoor Road, where they are fitting three new bathrooms and doing a whole shedload of plastering. All looked great, but we’re trying not to get too excited until we see the quote.


Decided to have a go at applying Polyfilla to some of the many chasms in the attic wall, prior to doing more wall painting. After quickly using up an entire tube of the convenient ready made comes-in-a-tube stuff, we decided it would be more economical to buy a box. Indeed true, provided that you don’t waste half the box in one of those disastrous whoops-added-too-much-water-let’s-add-more-powder-oh-shit episodes. Here’s a picture of my failed attempt to mix some. Ruth eventually took this away from me and mixed me a small amount, which I was duly given and told to apply carefully. I may be more suited to baking.

Am now sharing my office with fellow newbie Claire, who has joined the Information Office as a fixed-term maternity cover to help cope with the outbreak of pregnancies. Claire has just finished her PhD at the University of Hertfordshire, in something to do with cognitive science which apparently involved programming little robots. Have the strong impression the interview panel found her PhD more interesting than mine. Voiced this concern to Bart, a member of both our interview panels, who replied "Funny, that". Am insulted.

A record four-hour drive back to Reading last Friday, thanks to a coach fire on the M40 which led to its being closed between junctions 4 and 5. Kicked myself for deciding against leaving at junction 6 and taking the cross-country route, as I sailed past the junction just before 7pm and straight into the jam, where I remained until finally leaving the motorway at 8.45pm, after travelling about two miles in total. Got to listen to the whole of BBC Radio Oxford’s 70s request phone-in, which surely has to be considered a blessing.

Ruth and I whiled away a couple of hours on Saturday afternoon watching Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, her latest LoveFilm offering. It was about as entertaining as a two-hour long marital row sounds, but no doubt good to have seen it.

In an effort to get a little fresh air and exercise on Sunday, we drove over to Twyford (picked fairly at random) intending to have a bit of a stroll around Loddon Nature Reserve. Ruth decided she was hungry for lunch as soon as we arrived, and as her metabolism admits of no delay we had to find a pub. Perversely, the first one we ended up trying was The Golden Cross on Waltham Road, an unappealing place that stank of dog and had an air of rusting screen doors hanging off, etc - surprised at Twyford, a reasonably affluent little commuter town, having such a place but there you go. This piece from the Maidenhead Advertiser in July probably says it all. Drained our glasses quickly and retraced steps to the town centre, past this funeral directors, which Ruth mistook for a pub. Called in at The Duke of Wellington; a lot nicer, but they weren't serving food. Ended up at The Waggon & Horses, a civilised enough place on the road back out to Charvil, with OK food. We had a brief stroll around the nature reserve after lunch, but didn't linger as it was quite muddy.

After some internal wrangling, have decided to stay at Old Groveway for a further six months. The wee house itself is lovely; less entranced by the area. Not so much rough, as in fairness I’ve encountered no trouble since moving here; more that I’m not sure I’ll get used to the feeling of living on an island surrounded by dual carriageways in a town with no centre in a conventional sense. Should probably give it a year though, to say I’ve done the Milton Keynes experience. Intend fleeing next May to one of the older towns on the edge of MK, probably Stony Stratford or Newport Pagnell.

Amused by a short piece in the ‘Courtwatch’ section of last week’s Milton Keynes Citizen, reporting that a 26-year-old man had appeared at MK magistrates’ court charged with stealing a flapjack to the value of £1.10 from BhS. In addition to a fine, he was apparently ordered to pay a victim surcharge of £15. To compensate BhS for their distress over the loss of the flapjack?

Sticking with desperate local news, Zorba’s Mr Cheezzy Chips (note two 'z's) on Station Road in Reading, opposite what is now the Malmaison Hotel, has been forced to shut for two months by the council, as punishment for acting as a magnet for drunks looking for late-night food and a bit of a scrap. In a previous incarnation as Butty’s Coffee House, the joint achieved local notoriety for being the scene of a murder when the then-proprietor bludgeoned his business partner to death in the kitchen and then carried on serving meals, presumably just stepping over the bloodied corpse on his way to the fridge. In my young day, the shop used to be a standard greasy spoon café, where I remember Mum taking us occasionally for a lemonade or similar, probably when on the way back to the station. Can’t remember what it was called then.

Newly filed bunny; Oxford; other people's DVDs

Harley duly had his surgery last Friday, and by the time I arrived home in the evening seemed pretty much back to usual, though he didn't eat properly until Saturday afternoon, meaning that Ruth had to feed him through a pipette with some vile-looking food supplement supplied by the vet. We are hoping that his newly-shortened teeth will now enable him to eat lots of hay, as proper bunnies are supposed to.

Saturday was spent painting the attic wall white as part of the whole attic workroom plan. I have to say it does look brighter.

Travelled to Oxford on Sunday for a farewell dinner with Janet and some of the other former Progress South Central staff before Janet’s impending departure back home to New Zealand. I travelled up early and went for a bit of a walk, turning left off Hythe Bridge Street by the ‘dead end’ of the Oxford Canal and walking up past some surprisingly scruffy narrowboats to Isis Lock, the canal's southernmost lock (pictured), where I crossed and continued up the towpath to Aristotle Bridge. Turned off and had a meander around Polstead Road and other smart streets including the elegant Park Town, before heading to the Jam Factory on Hollybush Row to meet the others for lunch. Janet and her partner had already had to move out of their rented flat and were staying briefly with her brother before leaving the UK later this week to tour Europe for a few weeks before returning home.

During lunch I finally returned Godfrey's copy of Tony Richardson's 1961 film A Taste of Honey, which he lent me at least two years ago and I only got around to watching the previous evening. Verdict: OK but a bit over-studied, and rather hammered home the general bleakness and poverty of the surroundings and the characters' lives. However, Godfrey, who is much more of a film buff than I am, reckons it was an important film for British cinema, and he's no doubt right. Now Ruth and I just have to watch Helen's copy of The Princess Bride, which she rashly lent us at a dinner party about a year ago but which Ruth has consistently refused to actually watch, preferring things involving crime-fighting and lashings of gore. However, I shall feel too guilty to return it if I haven't actually watched it, in case I am questioned on my favourite bits (apparently it's Helen's family's favourite film).

Next week marks the start of the little 10-credit OU course (or perhaps courselet) I have signed up for, Design and the Web, part of the Technology Faculty’s Relevant Knowledge series of short courses. Have done the preliminary reading and the icebreaker. As I already know something about writing web pages, I'm not expecting all of it to be very demanding, but figure I might learn something.

Wednesday 21 September 2011

New patio; big plants; whingeing

Arrived back at the house on Friday evening to admire the larger and much smarter new patio. The new retaining wall and the built-in seat all look great; now the render just needs to dry so that the wall can be painted. We briefly considered a bright colour of some sort, before deciding that white would probably be more sensible.

Visit to the vets first thing on Saturday for the rabbits to have their follow-up jabs from the one they had a few weeks ago – not entirely satisfactory visit as when we were eventually called in 30 minutes after our appointment time, the vet discovered that the surgery only had one VHD vaccine in stock, so we had to pick the lucky bunny to receive it. The vet’s advice was that given Harley’s impending operation, it would be better to give Lola the jab – this was duly done and Harley has been booked in for his surgery this coming Friday. Ruth is planning a special meal for him the night before; we speculated whether this might involve chopped bank statements with a side order of leather sofa.

Spent the rest of the day buying a rotary airer from Homebase and then driving around various garden centres looking for a potential new bamboo, as our existing bamboos have suffered from the patio extension. Started at The Big Plant Nursery on the A4 at Twyford, which does indeed sell some very big plants. Lots of good looking bamboos, but all about 5 metres tall which we decided was pushing it a bit. Tried out the Wyevale at Hare Hatch, but more oriented around pansies, nymphs etc. Didn't get further than the car park of Ladds Garden Centre, the other side of the A4, as Ruth noticed that they sold live animals and insisted on leaving. I did once see some cute quail there, but should probably repent of my thinking they were cute and be outraged instead. Eventually gave up on plants and went for lunch at the Shire Horse as Ruth needed fuel.

After a late start on Sunday I decided to attack the attic, as we seem to have agreed on turning part of this into an office space to relieve pressure on bedroom 2 and to free the room up for decorating. Spent a cathartic few hours bagging stuff up for charity (though have not persuaded Ruth to get rid of nearly enough books as yet) and then clearing a space for some shelf-building (hopefully). With admittedly great foresight, I had a couple of double sockets installed up there during last year's electrical work - at the time because I was intending to take up sewing and wanted somewhere to plug in a sewing machine, something which admittedly doesn't quite seem to have happened yet. Have been keeping a boxful of old duvet covers, pillowcases etc though just in case, so that I have something to practise on when the new hobby finally does get going. Ruth started stripping wallpaper in bedroom 2, ably assisted by Harley who seems to enjoy the taste of wallpaper paste, even though we fear it can't be good for him.

Quest continues to find a charmingly attractive part of MK that I might fancy spending time in, but have unfortunately discovered that nearby Bletchley is definitely not one such, unless I missed the good bits. Took the bus there on Tuesday evening to register at a new doctor's surgery; the walk there from the bus station down what appeared to be the high street (Queensway, featured in the Wikipedia link above) was suitably depressing, as the most upmarket retail outlet along its whole length looked to be a branch of Nisa. The bus I took home has made me belatedly determined to send Reading Buses a fan letter; surly driver (as seems the norm here) and a motley handful of other passengers, half of whom seemed severely in need of a bath. Bloody hell.

Wednesday 14 September 2011

Tree butchery; Olympic Walk; garden landscaping

Ruth took the rabbits for jabs a week or so ago and was informed by the vet that Harley should really have surgery to file down some spurs that are growing on his teeth. Rabbits, being to my mind peculiarly badly designed creatures, have teeth that never stop growing and can eventually spout monster sharp ends that can potentially pierce their own cheeks. I think we have grudgingly conceded that we wouldn’t wish this on him, though we may be asking him to get a part-time job.

Was completely gutted to arrive home from work last Friday evening to discover that the beautiful silver birch tree outside the back of my flat had been chopped down during the day. Bloody council. I fired off a blistering, and probably somewhat over-emotional, email to them, but they haven’t replied as yet. Here’s a picture of it as it was, around the time I moved in. Ray did note that silver birches are not long-lived trees (though the tree looked perkily green to me) and sometimes have to be taken out before they become dangerous and their branches start dropping, but I’m not convinced. Am expecting the bureaucratic philistines at the council to claim that it was posing an imminent threat either to the buildings or the inhabitants, which I will of course suspect to be complete bollocks – in any case, these are hardly listed buildings and many of my neighbours look fairly expendable. Anyway. Rant over.

Had a day in London on Saturday (pictures here) which started badly due to me setting the wrong alarm, missing my planned bus and when I finally arrived at MK Central, buying two train tickets in a fit of hysteria (don’t ask - I blame grieving for the tree). After meeting Ray and calming down over a lovely breakfast at Carluccio’s at St Pancras, we made our way to Bromley-by-Bow tube station for 11am to meet the tour group and guide for the day’s Daily Olympic Walk, tours led by Blue Badge Tourist Guides around the environs of the Olympic Park, ending up with a viewpoint into the park’s interior (the public can’t actually go inside, except on a special bus tour which apparently gets booked up months ahead). The walk itself took in the area of the Lower Lea Valley that surrounds the Olympic site, starting off at Three Mills Island and the recently-regenerated Three Mills Green, then proceeding along Three Mills Wall River, across Stratford High Street, past the newly regenerated City Mill Lock and up Pudding Mill Lane to the Olympic site, where we were let in along with a number of other tour groups to what is evidently the official viewing point. All quite interesting, though I was more interested in the history and regeneration of the area than in anything actually to do with the Olympics. We both thought the tour guide went on a bit, but I guess that’s what they get paid to do.

After being released from the tour group, we took the DLR to Canary Wharf and had lunch at Strada (pretty but disappointingly tasteless pasta dish; nice rosé though) before going to have a poke around Limehouse Basin and the mouth of the Regent's Canal. We walked a little way up the Regent's Canal before deciding that it really wasn't a very scenic walk, so turned off towards Mile End Park. We caught the 205 bus from Mile End Road back to our respective stations.

Thankfully, the Hoppa Bags are finally gone, thanks to Frank of Thatcham-based FE Decking, who has been carrying out some work in the garden over the last week or so extending the patio and building a new block and render wall, which is due to be painted white just as soon as the render dries. Ruth finally fired Mr Hoppa last week, as his promises to come and collect the bags never looked like materialising and Frank evidently got ticked off with having to work around them and arranged for a mate of his to come and collect them, for an extra 20 quid. Makes you wonder what was so difficult in the first place. Although harbouring some concerns that having work done on the garden was hardly the priority for our property, I’m looking forward to seeing the finished product this coming weekend.

Bristol outing; surprise Buddhism; new technology

Went to Bristol for the day last Wednesday in the company of my colleague Hoa for a series of presentations from HEFCE on the upcoming 2011 run of the Higher Education Students Early Statistics Survey (aka HESES), with which I expect to be involved to some extent at the OU. The event was held at the Exhibition and Conference Centre on UWE’s Frenchay campus, in one screened-off end of possibly the largest room I’ve ever been in. Met a few other people doing similar work, and discovered that Hoa chose Reading for his degree because of the Festival – as good a reason as any, I guess. The day’s main distinguishing feature was the inordinate length of time it appears to take to get from MK to Bristol.

In a determined attempt to up the cardio with a view to improving energy levels, went out for a bike ride at 7am on Saturday morning. Took in Walnut Tree, Kents Hill and Monkston, keeping to redways, before returning to the house for a fully-justified bacon roll. Met Ruth from the station at around midday and returned to the house via Homebase for emergency purchase of an extra pillow and a planter for Ruth’s office plant which, for reasons not entirely clear to me, is being boarded out with me for the time being. We went for a late afternoon visit to the Peace Pagoda, in the north-east of the town by North Willen Lake. Milton Keynes’ Peace Pagoda was apparently the first such to be built in Europe, with the original having been built at Hiroshima after World War II as a symbol of peace. It’s maintained by a group of monks and nuns from the Nipponzan Myohoji sect who live in the Japanese temple near the pagoda – I had had no idea this was there but we wandered along to see it and had a look at the garden, which the public are apparently free to visit. Encouraged by the thought that MK might be full of hidden gems. Next stop the National Badminton Museum.

Dave and Hazel stayed with us on the Saturday night on their way back from a 40^th birthday party in Bedford. After a pastry-fest on Sunday morning, they set off to visit my parents while we pondered what to do with the day and discarded various plans as too National Trust-y/dull/involving too much effort. Ruth felt unaccountably knackered so stayed in for a snooze but I felt the need for at least some activity, so went for another exploratory walk over the footbridge (the Geograph picture is looking back towards Old Groveway) and past the new Ashland housing development before heading along a seemingly re-routed Redway south down Saxon Street. Called in at the Bletchley Tesco for a few things before heading back along the shore of Mount Farm Lake - lots of anglers – and back up Marlborough Street to the house. Not an overly scenic walk but counted as a bit of exercise. We roasted a little free-range chicken in the evening with a series of rather random accompaniments.

Amid much fanfare, the entire MK site has been issued with ultra high-tech phones designed for use with Microsoft Lync, a communications/contacts-storing system I haven't quite worked out yet. The week the new phones were installed, IT sent round an email with the somewhat alarming subject line 'LYNC DEPLOYMENT OF STRATEGIC UNITS' (a casual reader might have thought that troops were being deployed around the OU) containing details of deployment dates and locations of the new units. The new phones are pretty and have a lovely ringtone reminiscent of windchimes (in fact makes one want to sit and listen to it, rather than answer the phone), but they are proving a bit of a mystery and are evidently so integrated with your PC that they won't work at all unless a) your PC is switched on and b) there is evidence that you are interacting with your PC. If you don't touch your keyboard or mouse for more than about five minutes, their lights appear to switch from green (indicating you are available) to amber, indicating that you are 'inactive', and promptly sends all your calls to voicemail, even if you were innocently rootling through a filing cabinet on the other side of your office while waiting for a call. Actually managing to listen to voicemail messages seems to be another uphill struggle, made slightly irritating as I have been on Query Week this week. Sara and Jan, our admin support ladies, were evidently trying to sort out the volume problems with voicemail this morning by tweaking their speaker settings, though I (and probably others) were surprised when a few lines from the Abba song Chiquitita blasted out from their office - perhaps a feature of the new phones I haven't discovered yet.

Met this cheeky chap sitting on my car this evening - I had noticed cat footprints on the windscreen so this would explain it. The car park outside seems to serve as one big lounging area for a gang of cats.