Outdoor cinema; kamikaze bunny episode 2; artistry

The torrential rain over the last couple of weeks, ironically following swiftly on from the announcement of drought and hosepipe bans, has raised the little River Ouzel to quite impressive levels. My normal walk to work via Woughton and Ouzel Valley Park has proved too boggy this last week or so, so have been forced to find an alternative 'dry' route, through Walnut Tree and Kents Hill. Rather less scenic but also less risk of arriving at work covered in mud.

Went to an evening showing of The Exorcist in Caversham Court Gardens on Friday night, courtesy of new venture Summer Screens. Seems like a great idea in principle and a lovely setting by the river, but the evening suffered from a few technical hitches. Firstly, the people running the advertised BBQ had apparently pulled out at the last minute, with the result that a number of people who presumably, like us, had not eaten dinner beforehand had to rush out before the film to the nearest fish and chip shop. Ruth went down on our behalf while I bagged front row deckchairs, though as I’m not fond of chip shop-type chips I only had a few – had a large breakfast the following morning to compensate. The more major hitch was that shortly into the film strains of Fleetwood Mac started being clearly audible via our headsets over the film’s soundtrack. My initial thoughts were mild surprise that The Exorcist would have been remastered with a Fleetwood Mac soundtrack, before it became obvious that the music had nothing to do with the film but was evidently a radio station. Later in the film the music was replaced by bursts of the news, including the day’s update on the Leveson enquiry. All a bit of a shame, as it’s not a bad film and is wearing its (nearly) 40 years reasonably well. The poor owner has since sent round a long grovelling apology to everyone who attended. Ruth feels sorry for him, so we'll probably go to another one.

Saturday started well when we became vaguely aware, while still in bed, of Harley making noise at the entrance to bedroom 3, as he has been on an intense quest to gain access to the room ever since his way was barred, including, evidently, shredding the bottom of the curtain that's currently hanging in the doorway. Something prompted me to get up and see what he was doing, and after a moment or so I registered that he had a cord from the curtain tightly around his neck. After yelling to Ruth to fetch a pair of scissors, I released him. Her immediate response was "Oh Harley, are you all right?", whereas I think mine was along the lines of "YOU STUPID STUPID RABBIT". That's the second time he's cheated death. Given that rabbits are renowned for dying all over the place at the slightest provocation, he can't have many lives left.

Our living room is now graced, since Sunday, by a genuine Liam Smalley. Last weekend was Caversham Arts Trail and we took the opportunity to combine a walk with a bit of culture. We started with visiting the home of sculptor Roger Smalley, who certainly seems prolific - the living room, garden and garage of his unassuming semi in Caversham Park Village were crammed with pieces, and he told us that he sculpts during the day and works in a local off-licence by night. I liked a number of his pieces, but he struck us as being somewhat lacking in business acumen - not that I'm an expert, but he apparently doesn't have a website as he doesn't really do computers, and when Ruth asked if he often showed his work he replied "No, not really". Unsure how he's going to sell many pieces at that rate. The wall of his living room also featured some paintings by his son Liam, colourful Lowry-esque street scenes of Reading and Henley, one of which Ruth fell for - a scene of Queen Victoria Street in Reading, where our favourite Bella Italia is located. Still not 100% sure how I feel about the painting, but as it's now ensconced on our living room wall, I daresay it'll grow on me.

From the Smalleys, we proceeded to Mays Barn on Peppard Road, where a number of artists were showing, including a ghastly découpage business called Kitsch-en-Sync. From there we trekked across Caversham to the civilised pastures of Caversham Heights, to a house on St Peter's Avenue, also showing work by several artists. The lovely owner, painter Mary Phelan, offered us tea when we told her how far we'd walked, which was kind as otherwise there seemed to be only squash on offer. Nothing there that desperately struck us, but we had a bit of a snoop around her beautiful garden.

Ended the day by driving Ruth back to the Smalleys to pay for and collect the painting. Liam himself was there this time - I stayed in the car but apparently the youth looked overwhelmed at having a crisp £200 put into his hand. I wait to see whether he will one day become famous.

Food; art; South Downs

Had my first evening out with the Information Office a couple of Thursdays ago – to my knowledge there hasn’t been an evening get-together since I joined the team, so credit to Rebecca for organising it. Around 8 of us began with pre-dinner drinks at the large Wetherspoons on Midsummer Boulevard, before joining Sara and Hoa at Thai Modern. Very enjoyable meal and smart restaurant though I was slightly surprised to discover that my pork ‘Moo Gata’ tasted very like Mum’s old sweet and sour pork recipe. Not that there was a thing wrong with the latter, in its appropriate context, but from the description on the menu I had expected a rather more intriguing mix of herby flavours. Still, most of the other stuff looked nice and Hoa ordered an impressively-presented whole sea bass though Liz, who evidently doesn’t care for fish, claimed to be disquieted by its eye peering at her. Bart has been tasked with organising the next event and there was some talk of trying the London restaurant 'Archipelago', which serves various exotic dishes including a ‘Love bug salad’, consisting of pan fried locusts and crickets in chilli and garlic. I feel there may have been a certain amount of machismo talking.

The weekend of 28th and 29th was Reading Contemporary Art Fair and Ruth and I again went to the ‘private’ screening on the Friday evening, this time courtesy of Ruth’s having previously bought a picture at the show. Evidently a lot of other people had also previously bought pictures at the show and were lured in by the prospect of a free glass of warm white wine, as it was absolutely packed and I found myself wishing we’d just paid the entrance fee to go on the Saturday. We had a mooch around and jointly bought a small picture for around £50, though Ruth was tempted by the art of some Italian painter whose name I forget, but whose prices appeared to start at around £2500. I urged us to leave while we still had some prospect of being able to afford further house renovations. We ran into Ali, who had just bought a nude lady, sadly already wrapped in bubble wrap by the time we saw her so am told I'll have to wait to see her in Ali's living room. Reminded me of my ambition to acquire a Venus of Willendorf statuette for our living room, to appropriately symbolise Power Of Woman, fecundity etc, though not sure whether this would conflict with the Buddhist-type serenity exuded by Herbert.

We followed the show with dinner at the Spice Oven, now billing itself as a 'Brand New World Cuisine Buffet Concept'. They were certainly doing a roaring trade, but the whole thing’s a bit weird if you ask me.

Went over to Maidenhead with Ray on the Sunday afternoon for a quick stroll in patchy weather, followed by tea at Barbara’s. I took her a bottle of wine and she had baked fairy cakes in our honour, of which I put away about four. Barbara has been a bit laid up recently with a bad foot, so unable to be as active as she would no doubt like.

The attic continues to make progress, with a now-complete wall of shelving. Even better, I have managed to offload the IKEA shelving unit that it replaced to a good home, via the 'Freegle' network (successor of Freecycle in the Reading area). A lovely chap called Mark turned up last Saturday afternoon and collected it all, saying that it was just what he wanted for his attic.

On the Monday we set off for a four-day break on the South Downs, again courtesy of English Country Cottages, whom we are embracing as master/mistress of the undemanding UK-based short break. The South Downs was Ruth’s choice and not somewhere I’d ever spent much time, but the area seems to have potential. After short-listing a number of cottages a few weeks ago, we had eventually got frustrated and just picked one at random, Old Post Office Cottage at Jevington, a village west of Eastbourne on the South Downs Way and about 15 minutes drive from the coast. After a quite tedious and surprisingly hot two-hour drive, we parked up at Eastbourne and walked along the front past the pier and stopped for lunch at The Cavendish Hotel, where Ruth stayed for an event about six years ago. After lunch we had a quick wander along the pier, which is as depressingly anachronistic as such places generally are, before leaving Eastbourne in pursuit of cottage.

On the Tuesday we parked up at the Seven Sisters Country Park and walked down through Cuckmere Haven to the shore at the foot of the first Sister. Ruth spent a while looking for stuff in rock pools, but nothing doing. We had a pleasant lunch in the courtyard garden of the Exceat Farmhouse Restaurant before driving up to Beachy Head for a visit and a look over the cliffs. I had managed to remain remarkably oblivious to Beachy Head’s notoriety as a suicide spot, but according to its Wikipedia entry it’s the third most popular suicide spot IN THE WORLD, after the Golden Gate Bridge and some forest in Japan (intrigued by this: what do all these suicidal people do once they get in there? Dash their brains out against a tree?). Indeed, I discovered from colleagues that a member of OU staff ‘used’ Beachy Head for this purpose a few years ago. Blimey. As it was remarkably nice weather at the time of our visit, we took quite a few sparkly sea pics.

On the Wednesday we went for a bit of a walk up the South Downs Way, a national trail extending west-east from Winchester to Eastbourne. I had hoped to take in the Long Man of Wilmington en route, but misread the contour lines and discovered the SDW passes above the Long Man, rather than below. In the end we went to see him the following day instead. We had a brief picnic before returning to the cottage via the Lullington Heath nature reserve.

On the Thursday, after paying a quick visit to the Long Man, we drove to Lewes and had a mooch around its cobbled olde-worldeness. We spent some time in an antique shop, where Ruth bought a necklace, and walked up the steep Chapel Hill with its attractive houses and onto an even steeper footpath which led out onto the course of Lewes Golf Club. We had a look at the obelisk commemorating some Protestant martyrs before eventually retracing our steps. After a quick ham and cheese toastie at the Riverside Cafe Bar we drove back eastwards to Pevensey Bay, somewhere Ruth remembered visiting as a teenager with her godmother. However, on this occasion it appeared somewhat bleak and tired-looking (not helped by the weather) so we changed our minds about staying and drove back to Pevensey village instead, where we visited the castle followed by the tiny Courthouse Museum, where we were seized on by the elderly curator who regaled us with a lengthy local history lecture; Ruth managed to listen politely while my attention wandered to the postcard display and thoughts of a cream tea. We rounded off the trip with dinner at the Eight Bells, Jevington's quite cosy little pub.

Met Claire on the Friday evening at the pub formerly known as the Hobgoblin, now known as the Alehouse (all a bit puzzling) followed by dinner at Prezzo, followed by a walk up to The Turks to hear a band featuring the violinist from Claire's Vocal Harmony Group. On Saturday Ruth cut and fitted a new clothes rail in the cupboard in bedroom 1 - v. impressed, though she ran into the same problems as with the floating shelves with dodgy wall at one end. So far it seems to be holding though. Ray came round for a meal in the evening in payment for helping us with the water feature a few weeks back, and is sporting a startling short layered haircut with which I sense he is not entirely happy. We had been hoping to acquire rabbit from the butchers, as Ruth has unearthed a couple of recipes that sound quite nice, but it was not to be so we had roast pork, accompanied by the usual arguments about education and politics until I started dozing off.

Returned to Milton Keynes on Monday to clean the flat, throw away old food etc. Baked some more apple muffins from my ongoing supply of elderly apples, which went down well with the office. Also found a recipe for stewed plums, which I have eaten for breakfast the last couple of days. Not bad actually.

Farm machinery; amateur dramatics; tights

Excitement last weekend of Ruth coming up to spend a Whole Weekend in MK with me. We began the weekend with a drink in The Living Room, a quite smart bar on Midsummer Boulevard though, like so many places in MK, it gives the impression of being miles from anywhere. We followed this with dinner at Strada and the bus back to my flat. I had decided that I wanted to visit the Milton Keynes Museum on Saturday morning, so we duly got on the Wolverton bus and got off in an estate called Stacey Bushes, which seemed to be the nearest stop, and walked to the museum on the site of the former Stacey Hill Farm. For some reason, I had managed to get the impression that it housed some sort of archive of memories and footage of the New Town’s construction – which I would have been genuinely interested in – but instead it appears to chiefly house agricultural artefacts and other Old Stuff presumably salvaged from the old farm. It does have an exhibition of telephones through the ages, which was more interesting than it sounded. And we had a jolly nice toastie in the Granary Tea Room.

After the museum, we were obliged to walk into Wolverton as I didn’t have enough cash for the bus fare back into Central MK, and, inevitably, it would have taken us about an hour to walk. We spent most of the short time we were in Wolverton, between getting cash out and leaving again on the next bus, exclaiming at what appears to be the depressed state of the place and particularly of the Agora shopping centre, which occupies a prominent spot in what’s presumably Wolverton’s heart. We walked through this, as we couldn’t see a way around it – presumably when it was first built it was a vibrant sort of place, but in its current semi-derelict state it’s a bit of a blot on the landscape and its days are surely numbered. Here’s a picture of it – I didn’t take any for fear of seeming ghoulish. And a local news article from January of this year.

As an antidote to Wolverton, we had a quick mooch around the shops in central MK, including the inevitable trip to Hawes & Curtis for Ruth to purchase more posh shirts. Later we had an early supper of an experimental halloumi and lentil dish, which Ruth gamely ate, before heading to the Chrysalis Theatre to see an amateur production of Alan Ayckbourn’s Improbable Fiction. I have seen several productions of Ayckbourn plays, both amateur and professional, but can never remember which ones I’ve seen; they all seem to blur into one in my mind. Fairly sure I hadn’t seen this one before though - indeed it's one of his more recent efforts. It’s a moderately entertaining play, though should probably have been funnier than it was – the inevitable slow pacing and occasional inaudible speech that seems to accompany amateur theatre affected that a bit, though on the whole they weren’t bad. Indeed, one of the reasons I went was to check out the group, with the vague idea that I might take up amateur dramatics again. Still not decided on that one. The Chrysalis seems quite a nice facility though. Ran into Guy, who was there with his parents - back at work last week he told me that he had taken them to the Northampton Shoe Museum on the Sunday. Who knew there was a museum of shoes? Obviously there are many hidden delights in this area.

We went for a walk locally on the Sunday, up the canal a bit and into Ye Olde Swan at Woughton (pronounced 'Wufton') for lunch, followed by a hunt for the remains of Woughton medieval village, which I’ve seen signs to on my walk to work. You’d never notice them if it weren’t for the sign and noticeboard marking the spot. A shallow ditch marks the line of the village high street. The village was apparently deserted when the villagers moved west to the site of the current village of Woughton-on-the-Green. No one seems to know why.

We got into one of those ridiculous “is that tune x” “no it isn’t” arguments on Sunday evening after watching a particular TV ad – I forget what it was advertising – with the sinister result that we ended up watching a YouTube video of Terry Wogan’s 1978 ‘Top of the Pops’ performance of The Floral Dance. Something that should probably never be spoken of again. We still hadn’t resolved the argument after watching it, but were cheered up by the infectious beat.

Much as I am a notional supporter of the idea of supporting post offices, I consider it completely wonderful that one can now license one’s vehicle online. Just tap in the reminder reference number and pay for a new disc. Obviously one also has to have a current MOT and insurance, but you don’t any longer have to scrabble around actually having to find your insurance certificate and take it to a post office. The more general problem with exhortations to support post offices, butchers, local riflemakers etc is that they ignore the fact that a big chunk of the population works full-time, meaning that you can only support these institutions on Saturday mornings, and (if you’re like me) one doesn’t necessarily want to spend a large chunk of Saturday morning in the post office. Do get the feeling that society hasn’t caught up with the fact that many women aren’t free to do their shopping/dry cleaning/Post Officey admin at 11am on a weekday.

Went up to London on Saturday to meet Helen, after a year’s gap in get-togethers. Helen is currently suffering from an Achilles tendon injury, sustained while running (one of the reasons I carefully avoid running – clearly a dangerous activity) and wasn’t up to our usual level of walking around, so we met for lunch at the All Bar One just round the corner from Charing Cross station and spent a pleasant three hours or so. Helen relayed a tale of woe involving an unreliable builder, which reminded me that we’ve been really quite lucky with the chaps we’ve used so far – not that we’ve had any major building work done as yet, but I’m sure plastering could potentially go horribly wrong.

Walked back from Charing Cross to Paddington across the parks (Green and Hyde); much nicer weather than forecast apart from a brief shower, during which I effortlessly slipped on new Muji raincoat (‘effortlessly’ here = 10 minute session of fighting with raincoat while leaning awkwardly against tree). Stopped to marvel briefly at some pretty trees and take this photo, though almost got mown down by cyclists on rented Boris bikes.

Ray came round on Sunday morning for a late breakfast and to assist us (well, Ruth) with installing a new water feature centred around the granite orb purchased at Dobbies back in March. It’s now working a treat. We went to Homebase straight afterwards to acquire a couple of bags of stones to put around it.

Purchased a pack of tights from Waitrose a week or so ago, and was surprised to note that they now come with operating instructions, including a stern directive at the outset “To obtain the maximum benefit from your John Lewis Tights always ensure they are put on correctly”. This seemed ridiculous to me, but a quick Google search revealed a number of web resources devoted to how to do it properly, for example this and this; also a number of YouTube videos, which I’ve refrained from watching. My own advice on how NOT to put tights on might read as follows:

• Linger until late for work. Then grab tights from drawer, catching them on that fingernail you meant to file. 
• Try to unroll and separate tights. Catch tights again on fingernail, in several new places. 
• Force tights over feet and pull up. Discover that they are not straight over one foot. Take tights off and try again. 
• Pull tights on again and pull up. Encounter resistance. Swear. Tug sharply while cursing freely. Insist that tights are being made smaller than they used to be. 
• Eventually get tights in roughly correct position but discover crotch is at mid-thigh height. Resist taking tights off again; instead grab material and pull upwards. Delude oneself they now feel fine and go to work. 
• Spend morning tugging at crotch discreetly. Finally retreat to Ladies and adjust tights. Tights ladder from crotch to toe. Weep.

Continued home improvements; dentistry; Easter

During a fit of low blood sugar (my story), I was forced to break into one of the Lindt gold bunnies I’d bought for my parents for Easter. Ruth feigned outrage and insisted on taking this photograph of what remained. Waitrose has evidently got some deal on with Lindt, as our Caversham branch has been overloaded with gold bunnies, including ranks of them lined up in rows at the checkouts, looking vaguely sinister in a certain light. You can read the Lindt Gold Bunny Story here - apparently they’ve been around since 1952.

Attended my first M255 tutorial on 31^st March, in a dimly-lit room in the old part of Reading College. Seven of us present, six blokes and me. Picked up a few useful pointers, though not sure I’ll attend the next one at the end of May as that appears to be four hours long as opposed to two. Almost wrote a letter of complaint about the officious old git stationed near reception to direct OU students to their rooms, but in a later fit of compassion decided not to.

Ruth has now painted the rendered patio wall, taking advantage of the recent dry spell. Looks positively dazzling in the sun.

Floating shelves and new carpet

Spent 1 April painting the interior of the cupboard in bedroom 1, following plaster skimming the week before. Horrible job but managed to satisfactorily slap a couple of coats onto the walls and ceiling, as well as touching up the skirting. Ruth had a creditable go at putting up two floating shelves in the alcove to the left of the fireplace, and very nice they look too, though she ran into a problem on one side with soft brick and/or drilling into mortar, with the result that we won’t be loading them with anything like the alleged 25kg weight limit. They do look nice though. Ray advises us that it’s possible to buy a product from Screwfix called Stick-O-Plug or similar that helps out in such scenarios. For the moment, we’re adopting a deliberately minimal look.

Display of my work on Steppy will have to be saved for a future post, as His Gittishness (aka Harley) scratched the wet paint.

We were at home the following day to Rainbow Carpets (of Caversham – yes, we support local traders), who ripped up the old carpet in bedrooms 1 and 2 and laid some of the posh new cream-coloured quite-high-wool-content number that Ruth had picked out a few weeks earlier. Looks dead nice, though we are both paranoid now about removing shoes of any kind before entering the rooms. The photo shows the new carpet with Ruth’s inherited chest of drawers back in place. And the lovely if delicately-balanced floating shelves.

I had booked an additional day off on the Tuesday to 1) see my dentist Jill, who was as jovial as usual while flagrantly finding lots of work to do to compensate for the fact I hadn’t been to see her for a year. Am booked in to have two fillings done early in May – very small holes, apparently, but You Never Know. She also claimed one of my half-erupted wisdom teeth looked suspicious, and took an X-ray, to add to the various other X-rays that have been taken of them previously. Also 2) went up to Whiteknights at lunchtime for another lunch at Blandford’s with ex-Progress South Central staff – smaller numbers than the Christmas meal, but a very pleasant gathering. Ann, Godfrey and Paul are all enjoying various degrees of retirement; Little Emma is working in the Examinations Office in Whiteknights House and, one suspects, doing very well.

Visited the online OUSA Web Shop last week to purchase some past exam papers for my Java course (having just received an email with the exam date) and was amused to discover ‘Graduation Tapestries’ among the merchandise on offer. You can have either the OU Shield or the OU Coat of Arms. Don’t remember those being on offer at Reading. I may knock up a crude sampler at home perhaps.

Ruth and I spent the Easter weekend in a frenetic round of relative-visiting, starting with a lengthy drive to Cheddar on Good Friday to have lunch with Ruth’s grandmother. I had had a few qualms beforehand about driving to Cheddar on a Bank Holiday, which I had quashed in the interests of goodwill, but in spite of leaving Reading at 8.30am we didn’t arrive at Cheddar until 12.30. Admittedly we did have a c.30-minute stop off for a cup of tea, which with hindsight was perhaps foolish given that there were two sets of roadworks on the M4 and the M5 was almost at a standstill, leading to us leaving the motorway in frustration a junction early and having to trundle across country to Cheddar via, if I recall, such places as Yatton and Congresbury, as part of a procession of other cars who’d also thought it a good idea to take the cross-country route. Cheddar itself was packed with a queue of people awaiting the Gorge Tour Bus, but luckily Mrs Millard had booked a table for lunch at the corner café, so we were sorted.

After leaving Cheddar we headed up to my parents’ place where we enjoyed a fish pie for dinner, as Dad was observing a meat-free Good Friday, and learned that Emrys’ burial plot is already being prepared, although the poor cat isn’t dead yet. On Saturday morning Mum, Ruth and I had a pleasant jaunt around Hay before returning to the house to lunch on the hot cross bun pudding Mum had made the day before, but which none of us had been able to manage after dinner. I enjoyed a delightful late-afternoon bath (pictured), as I am still bath-deprived. Very impressed also to witness Dad baking what may have been his first cake (also pictured).

First thing on Sunday we set off for Newport to visit Dave, Hazel and new baby Nia, born early last Wednesday morning weighing in at a healthy c. 9 lbs. Nia is adorable though I fear I didn’t make a good first impression, as she was distinctly unsettled for most of the time I was holding her. Despite Hazel’s tactful remarks about probable hunger, I fear the generous squirt of ‘Coco’ I’d slathered on that morning may have been a contributing factor. At least Nia is too young to remember me as ‘the smelly lady’. At our next meeting will try to ensure I am smelling of talcum powder, rusks or similar.

Had to leave Newport after an hour to reach Ruth’s aunt’s house in Lambourn in time for Easter Sunday lunch, in the company of Gail and Rob. Mrs Spence had acquired a splendid-looking joint and managed to cook it to perfection. We followed it up with pudding and assorted Easter sweetmeats.

Exciting news for Reading last week, as the on-again off-again proposed IKEA development near junction 12 of the M4 appears to have finally been given the go-ahead. The development has seemingly been held up by spurious objections around traffic congestion and impact on the environment – the latter particularly puzzling given that the store is being built not on virgin forest but on the site of an existing derelict retail park, with the nearest residential development some way away. Bring it on, I say.

Sticking with Reading news: also delighted to read about the imminent loss of dignity to be suffered by the empty Simonds Bank building if it is forced to house Georgie Porgie's Buffet World. Tut.

Singing; marionettes; canal

Domesticity continues with attempts to choose a wardrobe for bedroom 2 - an exciting prospect, as I've inexplicably been managing with temporary clothes rails for the six years I've been living in the house. Ruth and I are agreed on IKEA's PAX range, but are struggling to fine-tune the exact types of sliding doors and inserts that we want. Given the proximity of my MK pad to a branch of IKEA, I was despatched on a Thursday evening a week or so ago to inspect various doors 'in the flesh', which I duly did and even managed to find a free member of staff to question about door widths. Weekday evenings are definitely the time to go. Paid the inevitable visit to the Swedish Food Market on the way out, where I purchased two boxes of intriguing-looking frozen potato products, including some potato pancakes which I'll definitely be buying again.

Wall of shelving in attic is now partly complete, thanks to a new and more efficient drill bit purchased from Drews the Ironmongers. My wall of artwork has also made some progress.

Last Thursday I accompanied Liz from the forecasting team to a lunchtime concert given by the OU Choir, largely devoted to the alleged 'world premieres' of two pieces by one William Bowie, an Edinburgh music teacher during the 1950s and 1960s. Both pieces were apparently degree exercises submitted for the composer's MMus degree in 1961. Evidently the OU Choir's conductor of 35 years (gosh), Bill Strang, was a pupil of Bowie's. (Strang's other interests, besides Bowie, include gay sexuality in music. Intriguing.) Most of the concert was fairly listenable - the first piece, an unmemorable arrangement by the conductor of a medieval hymn, was enlivened by what appeared to be the entire French horn section coming in late ('coming in' in the sense of literally coming into the room).

Spent Saturday morning working on my OU coursework for M255, as the first TMA deadline is coming up. Saturday's work included assembling this somewhat sinister-looking marionette named Mary. Completed Unit 4 on Saturday and am now working through Unit 5, which opens with a fun session on dialogue boxes.

Later on Saturday I went to check out Bletchley Leisure Centre, as Judith has spoken well of it and I've been meaning to check out the nearest place to swim locally. Bletchley centre is just as dispiriting on a second viewing as on the first, but the leisure centre is brand new and pretty nice. Wasn't expecting to get much of a swim given that it was a weekend, but managed quite a good session (given my current limited fitness levels).

On Sunday, Ray and I had a day of exploration of the Grand Union Canal’s passage through Milton Keynes. We started by taking the bus up to Wolverton, on the north-western edge of the town, and walking the canal’s meandering route back to my place in Simpson. Mostly pleasant, with a rural stretch just past New Bradwell where the canal makes a dog leg north towards Haversham and the ruins of the Church of St Peter. Back into the town then past the attractive-looking Linford Manor Park and a couple of nice-looking pubs including The Black Horse at Great Linford. Unfortunately, the first pub we passed at anything remotely nearing a legitimate lunchtime was The Gifford Park, a member of the ‘Sizzling’ chain, which we bypassed as too depressing and pressed on. Canal-themed points of interest included the Grafton Street Aqueduct, built in 1991, and the plaque marking the site where the long-defunct Newport Pagnell arm left the canal. We ended up lunching at The Barge at Woolstone, and after lunch took a brief detour back on ourselves to visit the Cathedral of Trees, planted in 1986 in an outline based on Norwich Cathedral. Quite nice – must go again later in the year when all the leaves are out.

Intrigued by a posting on the OU Noticeboard today headed 'Geiger counter needed'. The posts are usually from people wanting to flog outgrown baby stuff, the contents of their garage etc or wanting recommendations for garages, dentists and such. Also, tomorrow is the AGM of the OU’s Belly Dance Club. Lots going on.

Wednesday 14 March 2012

Work outing; carpets and plastering; water

Accompanied Judith and Guy to a meeting last Thursday with HESA representatives at their offices in Cheltenham. I had originally been down to drive, but had managed to get out of that so we all took the train from MK, and very nice too – trains not crowded and a lovely sunny day. Had a useful two-hour meeting with HESA, who always seem to me an extremely on-the-ball and well organised outfit, then had lunch before ambling back to the station. A very civilised day.

Marina view

Had another useful weekend, starting with taking Harley and Lola to the vets for jabs, followed as per usual by Ruth muttering about the cost and threatening to re-home then. After they had been released from their cage and had scurried off resentfully, Harley under the bed and Lola under the coffee table, we welcomed Marc from Rainbow Carpets to measure up the bedrooms and give us an official quote for re-carpeting. The carpet was duly ordered and I gather that it is now in stock, so we just have to arrange a date for fitting. Quelle excitement. I think I have been banned from wearing shoes of any kind upstairs once it is installed. On Sunday morning, we had a return visit from Mark the plasterer to inspect our little cupboard in bedroom 1. He has been booked in to do the work next Saturday, which will be good but did mean a rush job to finish stripping the paper in time, a vile job but now more or less done.

We went up to the marina on Sunday afternoon for a low-key pasty lunch with Ray and a walk around some new permitted paths which have recently been opened up. At the moment the paths, which snake around the various former gravel pits, are exposed and not terribly interesting, but judging by the amount of new planting, the intention seems to be to establish more greenery. We finished up with an outdoor drink at Boaters, the new and renamed marina bar and eatery.

Chester; car repairs; misc constructive activity

Left MK blisteringly early on Thursday 23rd (0622 train – but it meant a return ticket for only £24) bound for a city break in Chester with Mum. Pictures here. We had, after some dithering (mainly on my part), ended up booking into a Premier Inn again, so after dumping bags we set off towards the city with the aim of locating a café for breakfast. After a pleasant stroll through Grosvenor Park and along the river, where we stopped to admire the weir and the Old Dee Bridge, we walked into the city centre and had a fine breakfast at a branch of Carluccio’s. Viewed the Town Hall and the cute baby elephant statue in Town Hall Square (though it was impossible to take a photo of it that didn’t also include man on bench eating pasty) and then went to visit Chester Cathedral. We paid the entrance charge with a certain bad grace – although Mum had toyed with the idea beforehand of claiming she was there for the purposes of worship (apparently you can get in free if that’s the case), in the event we didn’t think we’d manage to look devout enough, so paid the fee. Impressive building and the red sandstone is striking.

Chester weir and Old Dee Bridge

Disappointingly, we couldn’t get into the Cloister Garden as it was shut for safety reasons due to the paving slabs being wet (somewhat mysteriously, as it was a sunny day). Afterwards we had a wander along part of the Rows and called into the Mad Hatter’s Tearoom for an indulgent cupcake, before taking a late afternoon walk along part of the City Walls and stopping for a glass of wine at The Pelican. We ate dinner at Artichoke in the Steam Mill – lovely food though I left almost unable to move. Must practice that elegant small portions thing.

On the Friday we had a quick breakfast at the PI before setting out for Chester Zoo. My painstaking research beforehand had identified the bus we needed to take, so after a 15-minute bus journey we were deposited at the Zoo entrance along with a number of other people, when it promptly began pouring with rain. Luckily, I had stuffed into my rucksack the new Muji raincoat I had bought earlier in the week to replace the Pocket Coat, so was able to wear this, albeit it does look completely absurd (having seen this photo Ruth has asked me never to wear it in her company). I haven’t yet cut it to size as per the instructions, so that would probably help.

We had a pleasant, albeit damp, wander around the Zoo, though found the signposting a little vague so spent quite a while figuring out how to get to our chosen enclosures. Once back in Chester we went for tea at the Refectory Café in the Cathedral – splendid setting in the 13th century monks’ dining hall. We duly admired the large east window and the tapestry on the west wall. Later we had an evening walk around the ruins at the east side of the Church of St John the Baptist and had a look at the Roman Amphitheatre, before going for dinner at Ristorante Sergio, a traditional-style Italian complete with exuberant head waiter. In the morning Mum went off to get her train while I went for a walk along the river and over the Queen’s Park footbridge, opened in 1923 in front of sundry Aldermen, where I had a quick poke around the posh streets on the other side before walking along the river the other way past Chester Castle and the extravagant Propylaeum, before heading back for my train.

Took the car in to Anglos on the Monday morning and was told that the wheel rim (?) was split, not just bent, meaning that a quick bash back into shape wasn’t going to be possible. I had been assuming that one of the advantages of owning a Ford would be that parts would be readily available in the UK, but no, it turned out that the correct wheel had to be ordered from Germany and wouldn’t arrive until Thursday. Anglos reckon that the chap who had my car from new ordered non-standard wheels for it. How helpful. I duly took the car back on Thursday, and it now has a new wheel, at a cost of £220. I have apologised to it and am now driving extremely carefully.

Met at Ali's house in Tilehurst on Thursday evening for a small select Book Group gathering, though Ali's daughter stayed to pad out our numbers. Discussed Louise Stern's Chattering, an interesting collection of short stories written from the point of view of deaf people. Ali had announced beforehand that we were getting baked potatoes, which underrepresented the delicious twice-baked jobs with pancetta and cheese that were served up - very nice.


Ruth and I both booked Friday off and had a pleasantly domestic few days, starting with a trip to the tip on Friday morning to offload some rubble left over from the plastering, a couple of buckets of soot and other crap from digging Harley out of the chimney, and the top portion of the cordyline which Ruth trimmed the previous weekend to allow space for the new bamboo to (hopefully) grow and flourish. We then drove over to Dobbies Garden Centre on a bit of a whim and had lunch, followed by an unplanned purchase of a granite orb which is going to form a new water feature for the garden. Later we took the car along to Nisi Hand Car Wash on Cardiff Road, near the Cow Lane bridges, for a bit of a buffing by way of compensation for breaking its wheel. Ruth persuaded me to go for the Gold Service, but in fact the only extra with that appears to have been an extremely pungent air freshener which I may have to dispense with soon as the whole car now stinks of apples.

Noticed from an ad on the side of the KFC at Reading Retail Park that KFC now includes gravy among its offerings. I haven’t had a KFC for about 20 years, but this sounds particularly unpleasant – though, amazingly, there’s actually a Facebook page dedicated to it. Comparable perhaps to the new offering on the Domino’s Pizza menu of a stuffed crust with mozzarella and barbecue sauce – just not an appropriate combination.

Jacksons Lane looking south

On Saturday, continuing the constructiveness, we visited Rainbow Carpets on Caversham Road and actually chose a carpet for bedrooms 1 and 2 (though the actual decision-making may have been helped by my refusing to leave the shop until we’d chosen one). Very helpful chap who gave us a provisional estimate then and there and a couple of samples to take home, with an appointment to come and measure up next Saturday.


Made a particularly excellent asparagus and chive frittata on Saturday evening, which Ruth has suggested is worthy of blogging. Here it is.

On Sunday, despite the dire weather forecast, we went for a walk through Caversham Heights via Chazey Road and up Jacksons Lane, which bisects Caversham Heath golf course. The rain really set in at this point (no golfers in sight) but Ruth impressed me by remaining in reasonable spirits, though there were threats along the lines of my owing her a ruched blind or two in compensation. Then out on to the A4074 at Chazey Heath where I had originally thought of stopping for a pint at the Pack Saddle, but as it was only 11.10am and we looked like drowned rats, we passed on that and headed back into Caversham.

In an attempt to meet more people in MK I went for a pleasant dinner on Tuesday evening at the MK branch of Strada with members of the OU's LGBT Network. Bagged a lift with Jeannie, who I've met a couple of times, and met several new people including retired couple Maggie and Sylvia - Maggie, who retired from the OU last year after thirty years, is apparently a former European judo bronze medallist. There's constructive activity.