Technology & Nature

This was actually written before my two previous entries, while sitting on the Tyntesfield Estate. However, until now it had been confined to my notebook...

Technology is amazing - it truly is. The discoveries and developments that have been made through increasing advances in human technology are truly awe-inspiring, even the ones which are massively destructive. The knowledge and collaboration (be it collaboration in the present or building on discoveries of those who came before) of the ever expanding population of the planet is a collective feat almost incomprehensible.

And yet.

My world and that of those immediately around me is increasingly dominated by virtual reality. Send an email - not a letter. Google it on your Smartphone instead of discussing it with those around you. Do some Wii fit instead of getting out and about, or simply having a life which, by default, includes physical exercise on a day to day basis. The list goes on.

I see a place for these advances and technologies but my concern is that they are swamping the public consciousness and squashing out the ways of doing and being that have been around for aeons.

Today I used technology (car and SatNav, let alone the technology that went into the clothes I'm wearing, the food I ate and the house I stayed in last night) to get to Tyntesfield, a National Trust property in North Somerset. Arriving early I had a quick chat to an administrator who advised "there's nothing really to do yet - except for enjoy the air". Which was exactly what I'd come to do.

I meandered off and have found myself sitting on a log. The log is part of a circle around a fire pit and is gloriously calm. I can hear the drone of traffic in the background (being only 15 min drive from Bristol) but I can also hear birdsong and the gentle movement of the woods. The occasional rustle as a bird lands or flies off. And what I find stunning is that I may be the only person to sit here today. Perhaps even all week. I understand there is plenty of "doing" to be done (harken the sound of light rainfall) and yet - is there really no space for getting out, pausing, and being amazed by the rest of nature "just getting on"?

This week my aim was to get to lots of places like Tyntesfield and enjoy the space. The freedom to wander and explore. To stop and breathe. To be inspired. (Hello Squirrel). I feel utterly ignorant of the scope and brilliance of the ecosystems of the UK, let alone the rest of the world, and from this conscious ignorance I can build and grow my knowledge - while getting to enjoy stunning grounds and the changing sky.

I feel incredibly lucky to find myself living by the sea and with time to get out into the countryside. And by immersing myself, perhaps that's one more step towards evening up the balance of Technology versus Nature.

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous - and back again

The title of this post had already been decided upon. And now is even more fitting because I have been presented with a single-portion-jam-size-glass-jar-of-tomato-ketchup. Craziness! Apt for the setting, but crazy.

Yesterday's indulgence: time at a spa hotel pool, steam and sauna. Today's: some meandering around in my car without entirely knowing where I was going, ending up in a posh hotel overlooking the sea, the sunset and the sky. I just fancied somewhere to unwind in calm surroundings (check), on a big sofa (check), without too many other people (check). It seems I may get turfed out in the not entirely distant future for a pre-booked event they have on (furniture is being moved in preparation for a band and dance floor) but for the mean time I can just sit and enjoy myself.

It seems I have a threshold for amusing myself, by myself, and it's certainly less than a week. Earlier today I had the chance for a proper explore at the Lost Gardens of Heligan and, well, wow. The amount of work that's gone into it is truly awe inspiring - both the work of the original gardens in creating it in the first place, and the work of the team who have been restoring and continuing to develop it since it's rediscovery back in the 90s. I had a wander around the Jungle area today and there's a boardwork round the whole area - which is both fun and a LOT of boardwalk! Counterposed with this morning's reading (a classic text on permaculture) today has been a very gardeny/greenery filled day. The escape to somewhere to simply take in the day and round it off was beginning to feel like a lost cause but has been delightfully fulfilled by The Carlyon Hotel. And, even better - with the price of a pot of tea being £3.50, having a hot water and a portion of chips (at a mere £3) was a much more sensible option. Huzzah.

Overall, today's thought for the day has been that of what, to me, counts as a holiday. And that although I really do enjoy Doing, this week in particular has seen a lot of space to think - or not think, as the case may be. What the end result of said time out will be I'll only know when I'm back in the thick of things next week but it's a rather pleasant place to be, either way.

Today Did Not Go According To Plan

They say it's all in the preparation. I say it's all in the DETAIL of the preparation. The devil, that is. My galavant around the South West seemed to be continuing well this morning - the drive to the next National Trust property on my list (Buckland Abbey) was taking longer than I'd imagined in my head and I'd decided to over-rule the SatNav because I fancied a slightly different route. Nothing wrong with that. Except that's when the rot set in...

My SatNav is usually a creature of much delight. It gets me to where I want to go and means that despite the fact I STILL haven't remembered to put my real-made-of-genuine-paper-atlas in the car, I can get to where I need to be. Even if where I need to be has only just become the destination of choice. However - every now and then it has an off-moment and lands me somewhere just, well, wrong. Today it decided  Buckland Abbey was up a dead-end single-track road at which point I defaulted to following the road signs...which then somewhat petered out. I picked up the scent again (and was sent in a big loop which was entirely unnecessary...hard to describe without a gazillion words, but not SatNav at it's most sensible) only to arrive at said Abbey to discover it was CLOSED.

Now, I've been diligently checking The Book (2012's catalogue of all National Trust sites) and was convinced the Abbey was due to be open today. On careful checking, however, one line gives opening times until Dec 2nd...and the next line down is "from Dec 7th..." - and today is December 5th. And today it was closed. The sun was shining and I was feeling a bit miffed but after a brief wander around the key bit of the grounds (during which period I was sure I was going to be "found out" and briskly escorted from the premises) and a conversation with my Dad (who DID have real genuine maps in front of him) I ended up heading on down towards St Austell.

And this is where the fun really began. I've always rather been of the opinion that whichever direction you go, a SatNav will always, eventually, recalculate your journey so you don't have to turn around. It's an interesting idea, but completely wrong. Especially when the road you've decided so firmly is the "right way to St Austell" turns out to end with a train station and a pedestrian ferry. But back on the (not very straight but especially narrow at times) track to St Austell I found myself wending along quite merrily. Still unsure of where to head to, I ended up enjoying some glorious sunshine on Porthpaen beach - delightfully I was able to settle on some rocks at the foot of the cliff in full sun just as the afternoon was ending. Even more delightfully I was already back at my car when the heavens opened - getting drenched was DEFINITELY not part of the plan.

At which point the only sensible option was an indulgent couple of hours at a local country hotel which had a spa attached. No treatments for me, but steaming, saunaing and some meandering about in the pool, along with reading National Geographic poolside in between times was spot on before heading off to my bed for the night (a little B&B just the other side of the Lost Gardens of Heligan - or, in case my DOD is reading and getting confused: the Pelican Gardens).

So, not the plan, but a good day all the same.

The Sea

It's been just over 5 months since I've been living by the sea full time. And it's been great. I walk to work along the seafront. I get blown hither and thither as I attempt to get home in a full blown gale (OK, maybe it's not a gale - but it's a pretty strong wind). I get soaked through on days when the rain decides to set in with a vengeance. But overall, I've been living by the sea!

As I was driving down on Friday evening starting about 10 days away I realised my overwhelming sense was "I'm driving away from the sea!" The thought amused me but I didn't put too much weight on it. And yet today I gave in and, after 3 days away, I have ended up looking out over a beach - this time in Weston-Super-Mare. I've always been fond of the sea but never realised it could take quite such a hold. Of course, I can survive without it...but given the choice I'd really rather be beside it. And, thankfully, the UK has a whole host of beach-side resorts to choose from, many of which are now rather down at heel and as such, perfect for a day tripper like me to take the air without hordes of other people.

But don't get me wrong - if I could encourage more people to take in the delights of a seaside break, I would! Whether it's coming to visit me in Morecambe or simply choosing a weekend by the sea in the UK rather than jumping on a flight to the continent, I think the great British seaside resort is under-rated and rather neglected. Right now I'm watching the last of the light fade from the sky as I look across the Bristol Channel. Clouds mask much of the land on the south coast of Wales but some twinkling lights (of Cardiff?) shine through and with the tide out the last of the light is reflecting in beautiful patterns on the remaining water on the exposed sand on the beach. Lights are coming on in the windows on Knightstone and the hum of the pub I'm in provides a sound backdrop. Who wouldn't want to be here?

And so my rather romantic and very deep-seated attachment to the sea continues. And this having spent 5 enjoyable hours at a gorgeous country estate (Tyntesfield House). You can take the girl from the sea, but you can't take the sea from the girl.

Adventuring

I never thought I'd look forward to taking a break at a motorway services. Of course, often I have looked forward to arriving at motorway services and dashing into the loos, but today I've actually decided to pause, blog, catch up, ponder and otherwise have a break. A novel experience but one that may yet repeat itself. Even the experience of the other people who are also breaking their journeys (for whatever reason) is friendly and almost enchanting. Services are strange environments, very specific in their existing and very functional in their purpose but this evening I'm finding the whole atmosphere pleasant in a way I never have done before. Curiouser and curiouser.

It's hard to believe that it's been just 3 days but my, what a three days they have been. Chronologically or memorologically, it's been utterly utterly fantastic. Part of the difficulty in understanding the "just 3 days" bit is that I completely mashed my time perception on Friday morning, further mashed it on Friday night / Saturday morning, was baffled by time on Saturday and today and have given up caring that I haven't a clue. I have various devices which tell me what time the rest of reality thinks it is as and when required and in the mean time I can potter on in my own little world.

The weekend's adventures (and they were adventures, oh yes they were) were all precipitated by my friend Pippa getting married. I knew her at Cambridge and our paths then crossed again while we both found ourselves rather unexpectedly in Accenture since when we've managed to keep in touch, quite often through the marvellous mode of Real Letter. The theme of the weekend was "what happened to the last three years?" quite often (and there's a simple answer to that but that's another story) and it was hard to believe that she's been with her now husband for 4 years (somehow it still feels like the very recent past that I was getting the low down on The New Boy) but their wedding celebration was utterly marvellous - and their vows moving, touching and very beautiful. The ceremony itself having happened earlier in the day, the reception was held at Bodiam Castle and involved an "Exciting Birds" display (I'd like to say birds of prey, but they weren't all birds of prey, one being an owl and another being a vulcher), a ceilidh, a fabulous marquee (bedecked in mediaeval type decorations which, in a certain light, sometimes morphed into bedouin tent type decorations, creating a rather marvellous blend), a pie and cheese phase (what a brilliant idea! Not just cheese, but hot pies as the evening draws in), tromping around the castle and playing with real armoury and dozens and dozens of MARVELLOUS costumes. The invite had specified mediaeval costumes were optional but about 85% of the guests had opted for the option and there were so many great outfits. A brilliant ice breaker, it also meant I got to handle a couple of real swords AND wear a real chain-mail helmet! Rather sweetly the owner of the chain-mail let me try it on but wanted to rescue it from me again rather swiftly as he was concern the oil on it (to keep it in perfect nick) would get on to my outfit. What a hero.

A wonderful group of people, being held at the castle just added even more awesomeness to the events. In particular throughout the evening the mist got thicker and thicker around the castle creating a stunningly picturesque and beautifully ethereal atmosphere. It was a truly stunning venue and I'm so pleased to have been able to be there and celebrate the start of Mr and Mrs Wainwright's married life. Brilliant brilliant brilliant. (Even more brilliant: the joy of facebook means that although I took rather few photos myself, every time Pippa gets tagged in a photo by friends who WERE taking photos I get to see them - and they're just starting to come through! Ace)

As part of the preparation for attending the wedding I discovered (having not really thought about it) how close the venue was to...the seaside! Being an utter seaside fanatic (I think I always have been but possibly in more of a "closet" way - it's certainly loud and proud these days) I found myself a B&B on the seafront in Hastings and got booked in. A hiccup with the postcode meant some brief shenanigans finding it but when I arrived not only did they have some keys ready for me (I'd let them know I would be disappearing before their usual check in time for a wedding but they'd agreed to let me pick up keys) but my room was ready too! The previous 12 hours had been rather exceptional - more on that later - but having my room was an absolute blessing as it meant I could humanise myself with a shower and freshen up. I'd also hoped to blow the cobwebs away on the front  - but it turns out the cobweb blowing ability of Hastings has *nothing* on Morecambe... ;) My room was very snug but had everything I needed...AND a sea view and a balcony! Really landed on my feet with that one and should I ever end up that end of the world again I could quite enjoy staying there once more. The best was yet to come, however, with my B&B choosing skills...

I had never been quite sure how today would pan out (post-wedding breakfast? Dashing off on more adventures? Sleeping and sleeping and sleeping and sleeping?) but as it turns out I found myself awake and ready to enjoy the GLORIOUS sunshine (good work, weather Gods - two gorgeously sunny Sundays in a row!) with plenty of time. An old friend of mine who lives in Brighton had also popped into my mind and I thought I'd find out if he fancied a visit. Turns out he was in Hastings with his fiancee visiting her Mum with their 8 month old in tow! Fantastic! Very unexpected but very brilliant, I got to meet said fiancee, Mum and 8 month old (who's called Arthur and is officially awesome) and hang out with Tom before they headed back to Brighton. A wonderful addition to an already brilliant weekend.

Speaking of small people on Friday I spent the day at my parents' in Oxfordshire and as well as digging the vegetable patch and picking apples (I could claim daughterly duty but actually I was clamouring for jobs I could do in the garden - gardening is ace) I spent a lovely few hours with my nephew and two of my nieces who'd been spending a few days with my parents. Children are inspirational - and definitely keep you on your toes! I am feeling rather more confident in my auntie-ly duties these days and it was lovely to see them - as well as my parents! Timing also worked out perfectly with us all heading off for our respective evenings about 4pm (my parents to return the trio to my sister and her husband) and me to jump on an Oxford Tube to London.

I was rather pleased with my parking spot and was all ready to jump straight on to a bus but I seemed to have hit Oxford at peak time for people getting the Oxford Tube so two went past absolutely ram-jam-full before I managed to get on one. A friend was having a birthday celebration in London and the fact I was "in the area" made it a complete no-brainer. Even better, Sci Fi London were having their Autumnal festival in the same end of town and, without really planning it more than about an hour beforehand, I decided to pop in there and say hello too. Sad not to have magicked all my SFL favourites to be there at the same time, but I saw a great number of old favourites and some fresh new faces to boot while reminiscing about old times. Good fun.

Another friend (who I lived with a long while ago, introduce to SFL and now looks after all the volunteers) was also heading to the birthday drinks so we headed off that way and I managed to raise plenty of "Tigger! I didn't expect to see you here!" which was great. Given the festival detour, we only arrived about 10pm and it became clear that the prospect of yoiking back to Oxford and then out to the sticks for a few hours' sleep wasn't particularly appealling...and so I just stayed out with the gang until about 4.30am until I made tracks to pick up the car and drive down to Hastings. Frustratingly (although in hindsight not incredibly so as parking in Hastings is a nightmare!) I missed one of the hourly buses by about 30 seconds but amused myself with a samosa, being confused by time and reading one of the free London newspapers until the next bus arrived. The magic of sleep deprivation won me the perception of having had a good few hours of sleep (got on the bus in the dark, got off in the light...so CLEARLY I'd slept for a good few hours - except it was actually about 70 or 80 minutes) and my body co-operated (I have no idea how) in sustaining me through until providing a taxi service for 3 folk getting the last train back to London from the wedding and seeing me head back to Hastings. That drive back from the castle was probably the hairiest bit of the weekend - the beautiful mist that had descended on the castle had also descended on the local roads and wending my way through unfamiliar country roads in patching heavy mist / fog was rather more exciting than I'd been expecting but just added to the mystery and brilliance. Passengers deposited I got back to the B&B for an excellent night's sleep before awaking to beautiful sunshine this morning. Stunning, stunning, stunning.

So there you have it, an adventure-tastic weekend. Brilliant, wonderous and exciting, and the intensity of brilliance all enabled by the Golden Chariot. Happy Tigger.

AND - how could I forget - an evening with my Space Twin to start it all off! Chats, great food and yet more revelations of the brilliance of the medicine of Touch this was a weekend and a half.

Mud & Spectating

The absolute highlight of today was getting properly muddy. I've recently got involved in a "garden share" scheme and have been linked up with a garden about 3 min walk from my house - result. Today was the first time I was free to do some digging since being linked up and, I found myself without much of an idea as to what I was going to do other than pot on some strawberry runners and plant a rhubarb root kindly donated (OK, coerced) from my parents' garden.

I've done some gardening in the past but wouldn't call myself an expert by a long shot. However, patience, a hand-fork and more plant-knowledge than I thought I had saw me getting on with the main border in the garden. It's a front yard and has a couple of narrow "borders" plus lots of big pots. There's plenty already growing but it's been left to its own devices for a while and I'm aiming to increase the number of "productive" plants growing. At first glance the main border seemed to be mainly weeds but as I got closer it had a lot of orange-flower-plants (which had been pointed out as useful for something, but I forget what and I forget what they're called: any pointers gratefully received - I think they're the ones pictured), parsley, strawberry runners, clover (good for nitrogen fixing while I'm working out what I want to grow) mint and a couple of hiding potatoes (I think they were potatoes...I wouldn't like to be sure). I rescued the plants I could identify (oh, and there was a clump of what I think was a lupin which I relocated) and then dug over the patch before replanting with a little more organisation and making one of the empty large pots into a parsley pot (much more accessible). How the plants will fare remains to be seen but it reminded me I do have *some* gardening skills and there's plenty of scope for learning more. The other pots have chives and forget-me-nots, among other things (and more strawberries!) and now I'm on the hunt for new and exciting edibles that I fancy eating and can get my hands on.

The morning was cold but while I was keeping active I was plenty warm enough and it was particularly brilliant to bring some parsley & strawberry plants home with the idea of potting them up and having them here. The potting has been done but I'm now somewhat short of suitable pot containers (so when I water them they don't spill everywhere) so shall just have to get through some more tofu (which comes in rather handy pot-trays, which some may consider plastic packaging...)

So yes, mud & gardening - brilliant.

The main reason gardening happened today was because I'm spending a whole weekend in Morecambe - for the first time in a good while. Last night there was an arts event in the streets of Lancaster (Light Up Lancaster - part of Lancaster Arts City) which I ended up at and today, being the Saturday closest to Bonfire Night, there were a couple of different fireworks displays going on. By accident rather than design (timing wise, at least) I arrived in a quiet back street of Bolton Le Sands just as their annual fire works got started and I had a great view from the comfort of the Golden Chariot and often silhouetted trees between me and the lower-level fireworks. So for two nights in a row I've been out and about, along with other people, watching things. And I think I've come to the conclusion I haven't done particularly well in cultivating my "spectator muscle" having preferred to be Doing. Last night there was one performance which was rather more interactive - a scaff-tower with various metal bits hanging off it which was used as a large percussion instrument, and which the assembled crowd was encouraged to have a play on as well. I didn't need to be asked twice. And I enjoyed both evenings - but there is a definite sense of wanting to Do more. There's a plan in there somewhere...

Cornwall – marvellous Cornwall (and other such exciting happenings)

So, it came to be that Tigger found herself sitting on the floor of a rather marvellous room, the sunlight streaming through the window, her friend working away beside her, and, without even really trying, she solved a mystery that had been puzzling her for quite some time. Why was it that her bag had retained such a delightful smell of Frankincense for the past week or so? Well, that would be because the lid of the bottle of Frankincense she'd put in a little over a week ago (and completely forgotten about) had broken and the contents of said bottle had emptied into the fabric of the bag. Hence the smell.

Mystery solved and various bits of “sensible” typing-type work possible, the mood struck to write of the various wonderful adventures she'd been party to of recent times. And where better to start than an utterly fabulous holiday to Corniewallie.

*

I've been aspiring to “get into the swing” of holidays for a few months and in August the need became more acute so I delved into the recesses of the internet and found myself a surfing weekend in Cornwall – which was made significantly more attractive by the fact it would be hosted at a spa hotel, involve some yoga and be with a bunch of other people who fancied said surf weekend. Just a few months prior to departure day I also got myself my very first motorised vehicle (officially it's a car, but in my mind it's more of a van-car, but I can't legitimately call it a van, so, well, it's a motorised vehicle. My motorised vehicle, in fact) making the adventure even more exciting and granting it many more possibilities for brilliance.

[plus the drive was broken in each direction by an overnight near Keele on the way down seeing a dear friend I am really enjoying seeing more of, and a “tea and cake” stop near Newton Abbott on the way back. A 5 hour stretch seems infinitely more manageable than a 7 hour stretch]

Cornwall is utterly gorgeous. And rugged. And brilliant. And fabulous. But the absolute highlight of the weekend was on Sunday afternoon when the surfing-weekend bit was drawing to a close (the others mainly heading back to London – and work on Monday) and I found myself in Cornwall, with a car...on a rather grey and misely day. A friend had suggested an adventure a little way down the coast so I headed off. Finding the place of the adventure was very much the first adventure but it brought me to the town of Perranporth. My first “falling in love with” moment was spotting a small house up about 3 or 4 “flights-worth” of outside steps. It looked like a mini castle. It was obviously empty and made all the more romantic by a rusting hulk of a Morris Minor slowly being taken over by brambles and other greenery at the bottom of the steps. But my, the best was yet to come.

It wasn't cold but the dampness in the air meant there weren't many folk about. I had my brand-new walking boots on (huzzah!) and decided just to amble along and head for the coastal path along the top of the cliffs. But first: the beach.

If you haven't been to Perranporth, and, more importantly, to Perranporth beach, I have one word for you: Go. The “mouth” of the beach from the landward side is fairly understated with nowhere really “on the beach” to park. Meaning driving through Perranporth you could be forgiven for thinking the beach was utterly hidden. But walking out on to the beach all of a sudden the cliffs draw back and the most stunning expanse of cliff-lined beach appears. Breathtaking. And this is in grey clouds and miselyness! The sand, even on that grey Sunday, was sun coloured and, well, words can't do it justice. That expanse, the sense of space, the power of the cliffs and the continual ebb and flow of the water – a memory that is still fresh in my mind and will stay with me many moons to come. And that was all within half an hour of arrival!

It has been a LONG time since I've done much cliff-top walking and I've missed it. Tromping along that afternoon – spotting the few other people on the path, the waves pounding below, the path ambling and diverging and coming back together – was an utter treat. The adventure related to a cove which was utterly water-sodden by the time I reached it but alerted me to the fact that the funny “vents” I could see as I meandered were in some way related to the old tin-mines of the area. A very definite human impression on the landscape but one that was filled with mystery and history. The brilliance of being away from cars and roads – and just proceeding under my own steam.

The coast in that area has lots of little coves meaning plenty of headlands – and the sense of, well, excitement, of rounding another headland, seeing another vista, wondering how many more I'd see before I decided to meander back – brilliant. The exposed rock was leaching iron (and “rusting”) in many places and at one point I thought I was approaching a cliff-top graveyard...but no, it was (most likely) part of the old tin-works. There were remnants of walls and buildings, but what actually used to happen there remains (for me, at least) a mystery.

Heading back to Newquay (where I had a B&B for the night) I found myself utterly wiped out but even the next morning of having an hour of two of just meandering around Newquay was great. I saw the “house on a cliff” (reachable only by a suspended foot bridge which passes high above the main Newquay beach) and had a realisation that my weird sense of intimidation around surfers (that they're so incredibly cool) is just in my head. There were so many surf shops that all of a sudden I realised it was just another fashion – and although on the base of a “cool” surfboard in a “cool” shop, it did bring me an absolutely brilliant quote:

“Carpe Diem Does Not Mean 'Fish of the Day'”

Monday morning also brought me a series of wonderful events in a brilliant eatery called The Beach Lamb Cafe. On Saturday night the whole surfing group had gone there for the evening meal and I had utterly fallen in love with the place. They do a range of food but along with meat they also do great veggie and vegan meals – and as I was leaving they mentioned their breakfast. Now, breakfast was included at the hotel but as I was staying in a B(&B – but the second B wasn't included) on Sunday night I realised my opportunity for vegan breakfast had revealed itself. And my, it was AWESOME. Best vegan breakfast I think I've had ever. Yumcious. All the usuals but also some gorgeous “scrambled tofu” and great company – there were a lot of “regulars” coming in at that time of day (one of who I even managed to buy a screen print bag of an owl from, perfect for the friend I was seeing later that day) and I ended up joining in their chats. A very pleasant way to start the day.

And then – wow – the Lost Gardens of Heligan! AWESOME. I'm on a mission now to find out much more about the history of the gardens (there are plenty of books available – it's just getting to them when I already have a stack of books about 2 ft high next to my bed) but the amazing work that's been done – and continues – is utterly inspiring. Covering such a great expanse, the gardens range from woodland and “jungle” (which I didn't have time to explore) to a wildlife hide and the very beautiful managed gardens near the house providing an inspiring array of horticulture. One of the highlights was the pineapple glass house – which traditionally had been heated by manure being put underneath. Apparently pineapple “rearing” was the height of 18^th century horticulture. Brilliant.

I was joined at the Lost Gardens by the friend I dropped off on my way home and, despite the various downpours, we had a lovely few hours. I very much hope to revisit the gardens several times over the next 12 months and spend more time exploring (and found a caravan park within about 15 min walk of the gardens which holds much potential for a week away with friends) but they have definitely helped stoke the gardening interest within me. And who said names never made any difference?

Ambling home I felt my first “with car” adventure had been a distinct success – and the immense sense of freedom having a car had provided was truly wonderful. I'd bought my Berlingo (who has yet to be named, other than “The Golden Chariot”) as my “holiday” car. Having resisted buying a vehicle for so long I have very much done so in an “eyes wide open”. Yes, it's true I do not need a car to survive. But I am increasingly of the opinion that having The Golden Chariot is enriching my sense of being able to “just do” - and will be a great asset to having adventures not bound by the limits of our public transport system. My plan is also to have a “forest fund” - and that for every penny I spend on the Chariot, I'll match it in the forest fund to be used, as and when, to plant trees and other brilliance. A kind of very personal kind of offsetting. Which, in itself, is rather marvellously exciting.

The Chariot has also been helping a lot with clearing stuff from my basement left by the previous occupants. Now I'm in Morecambe full-time just the act of spending an hour or two sorting through bits is a lot easier (hurrah!) and having a vehicle to get junk and cardboard and just plain rubbish out and to a place where it'll be dealt with is great. I just need to put some bike-hooks up in my “front room” in the basement and it'll be all set up to house the rapidly multiplying bikes that live at the house.

Continuing the freedom theme, last weekend saw a trip down to Liverpool to celebrate a friend's birthday. It was somewhat of a surprise party and as well as being really rather brilliant (I got to go to The Egg, which is always a winner, plus we went on the Duck Bus and I relocated The Chariot without – too many – difficulties) having a car meant I had a lot more flexibility to keep my own time, rather than being confined to trains and the like. And I could stow a birthday cake in the back. I've yet to dig out an air mattress and look at the feasibility of actually sleeping in it but I'm sure there'll be time for that, yet!

So, overall, I'm having a rather marvellous time. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. And I get to meet a garden (and its owner) tomorrow that I may be able to help tend. Hoo and, indeed, rah.

[And given it this started with talk of a surfing weekend: the weekend bit was good fun, with a great group of people – but ultimately I came to the conclusion that surfing may be fun but hasn't grabbed me sufficiently to get “into surfing”. It's given me the confidence to grab a board and have a play if I get the opportunity, but generally I think I'm happy just playing in the waves]

Joining the Mainstream (of Traffic)

Written September 21st 2012

The truth is true – I am a car owner. And today I discovered that until today, whenever I've been on the roads (driving or being driven) I've been there as a tourist. Today, I was there as part of a large chunk of the country who own a car, drive it and see it as a normal, every day part of the world. And I have to say – it was a rather new experience.

Life for me, to date, has often been one “outside the mainstream” - in fact, I'd say my approach, even if mainly psychological, to most things I've engaged with has been “outside the mainstream”. It's suited me and my temperament but I do recognise that things are mainstream for a reason – because a lot of people do them. And that doesn't necessarily make them the right thing to do, but it makes them interesting simply because so many other people do them.

In particular, driving along (and most of it was motorway driving) I was very well aware that, lots of chunks of metal moving at speeds generally exceeding 60 miles per hour would normally be a receipe for disaster – and yet everyone driving knew the rules to keep themselves, and everyone else safe, and abided by them. Somehow I found a sense of community in that – and was rather taken with this collective safety attitude. That was make take, anyway.

But really, my foray into car ownership seems somehow to symbolise me taking a step “into” the mainstream. I'm still me, I'll still do things in my own sweet way, but there's a level of mellowing so I won't just resist something “mainstream” simply because it is mainstream. Which isn't to say that's how I've lived my life to date, but it feels somehow like there's “less to prove”, or that I'm less concerned about proving it to anyone outside of me, now.

Interesting vehicular musings...

But the reason for ALL of this is because I'm on holiday! It's my first real holiday in what feels like a very long time (probably because it is) and it started brilliantly with a stop over with an old (and awesome) friend last night before I continued my journey south and west this morning. I'd merrily stopped off at a service station to stretch legs and the like when I received a call which made it less of a holiday-day and more of a “this really needs to get sorted out” day. That said, said issue DID get sorted out before sunset and I'm now merrily ensconsed in a large settee type thing in the hotel lounge / bar area. Somewhat disappointing that their free wifi seems to be an utter dead loss but that simply means I'll have plenty of time to do a spot of reading. The rest of the group I'm going to be spending the weekend with are en route down from London (eta some time around 11pm - turned out to be 2am) but as I'm sharing a room with one of them (at the moment I've got a surname and nothing else) curling up in a small ball and sleeping isn't necessarily the best option. Definitely feeling like I'm winding down for a holiday weekend, tho'. And being all gizmo-ed up for the drive I even had some (phone call) company for chunks of the drive which was rather nice. Gizmos are a little unnerving at times, but rather brilliant all the same.

And so that's it for today – I wrote the first sentence of this before The Issue kicked in while I was at the service station and, given the wifi status at present, it may well be some days before it actually gets posted BUT posted it shall be!

One Square Inch of Silence

Beside my bed I have a stack of books. Books I have taken an interest in or been recommended, all of which are waiting for my attention. But as I have this stack, when I am looking for a new read I often read the first chunk of one or two before settling on one to really dive into. ch is how I ended up reading One Square Inch of Silence by Gordon Hempton & John Grossmann.

One Square Inch of Silence was lent to me by a very dear friend who I'm due to see on Thursday - and as such I very much hope to finish the book so I can give it back to her (she hadn't read it yet). It's a phenomenal non-fiction book about the loss of natural silence in today's world (specifically in the US) by an acoustic ecologist (Gordon Hempton) and the story of his journey across the US seeking out the last few remaining places of silence (defined by him as no audible interference from any man-made activity). It has had a very powerful impact on me, just in the reading of it. I've started becoming much more attuned to the sounds around me - both natural and man-made - and am spending a lot more time without music on, which used to be my default. One of the most contentious interferences, particularly in very remote areas, is that of flight paths. I'm still getting my head around it, but such interferences, seemingly "low level background noise" still make an impact both on our auditory perception and on those of animals. And yet I find myself coming back to the fact that to make this journey across the US, the author is travelling in an old VW camper van - which itself will be belting out a fair few decibels. (And don't even start on decibels - good ol' exponential measuring systems.)

What the VW highlights to me is the continual, and sometimes agonising, battle within me of the purist and the realist - or, not even the realist, but the "live-ist". In my own world, part of me would love to live a very low-impact life style, growing my own food, really getting to know the natural resources available to me and living with what is there. However, my life is a significant distance from that, and I really enjoy my life - I am very much a consumer, I travel (and now I travel under my own steam in a car which, had I not bought it and were I not driving it, would not be consuming that fuel at all), I enjoy modern day comforts like central heating, electricity and a whole array of technology and my food comes from shops, not direct from plants I have grown and nurtured. The reality of my life is the "live-ist" - the live-ist decided that I would really benefit from a holiday and so am driving myself  to Cornwall to stay in a hotel and learn (hopefully!) how to surf. But the purist wonders if I'm doing enough to minimise my own impact and create ways that others can too, as well as making those ways attractive versus the status quo. It's my own internal battle and one that comes to the fore, as do many things, when I have some quiet (ah ha) moments to reflect. And my resolution for the time being is that I am far from perfect, but am doing things that nourish me and my life - and with any luck, aren't too destructive of the planet overall. Time will tell.

In other news, this morning's fritters (kiwi fritters) were an interesting exploration but ultimately I don't think as successful as the berry fritters (strawberry is still top of the charts, methinks). This may, however, have been down to the *very* ripe nature of the kiwis before they got cooked. Must Remember Fresh Fruit & Veg In The Bottom Of My Fridge.

What a Difference a Car makes

Last week I broke the habit of a lifetime and, with the expertise and much appreciated assistance of my big brother, bought a car. Having not owned a motorised vehicle to date, taking the plunge was quite a big deal and the immediate aftermath was a sense of "oh. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all" but I have decided to stick with it as an experiment for a year - the MOT runs until June 2013, the tax and insurance (once I've got it sorted - I'm on a temporary thing at the moment) will be until September and by then I'll have a sense of whether the life of being a car owner is for me.

Anyway, having driven said vehicle home (from Lichfield) I was convinced I'd need at least one or two more driving lessons to be able to maneouver properly - *but* various friends suggested I simply practise. Now there's a novel idea. So now I'm making a point of reversing when I could drive in forwards and the like. And I'm also making a point of going slow enough to feel comfortable - knowing that there might be someone champing at the bit behind me, but I'm a safer driver for not getting influenced by them to drive more rashly. Even with today's driving I was beginning to feel more confident and getting a better sense of the size of my car (a Citroen Berlingo) so hopefully I won't be the world's most cautious driver for too much longer (within reason).

Point being, I decided I'd go out for a little jaunt today. I did a trip to the dump (more of those to come - STILL clearing out my basement!) and then took the "route less known" away from the tip and ended up at Sunderland Point. Now, this was my third visit to Sunderland Point and I ended up just following my nose from The Globe car park, through some fields and across various styles and footbridges over ditches (it was great fun playing "follow the path by finding path-indicating-structures) and ultimately getting to the Point itself. The morning had been spent doing "useful" things at the computer and yet by the afternoon when I'd set out the sun was shining and I had a glorious walk - enough though my feet got rather soggy courtesy of some marshy ground at one point. It is truly a gorgeous spot down there - and somewhere I simply haven't been to other than by car. I spent around 2 hours ambling around (with a pause at one point for some reading) and enjoying some Proper Outsideness for what felt like the first time in ages. I ate blackberries (and found one or two which were deliciously sweet - the others looking like they might be but not quite there yet!). I saw birds. I listened to the sound of the mud alongside the road through the marsh gurgling - and discovered a rather odd collection of small crab carcases - just in a 2-3 metre stretch. And it was great.

And yes, I know I wouldn't have gone on this wander without having a car to get me to the starting point. Which, to me at least, is an interesting reflection...

Speaking of reflections, I'm also mid-way through a book called One Square Inch of Silence by Gordon Hempton and John Grossman. It was lent to me by the wonderful Jenny Gaiawyn and is a fascinating appraisal of the aural landscapes we live in. I'm very much at the beginning of the journey at the moment (it is the story of a literal journey across parts of the US, as well as a discussion of various sound-related thoughts) but it is making me much more aware of sounds - manufactured and otherwise - around me. Interesting times.

And tomorrow is another day - a day involving another adventure (this time to a bouncy-castle replica of Stonehenge, brilliant!) and, doubtless, more intrigue.

Birthday Brilliance

Today. Has. Been. Awesome.

Fact.

I don't know how I've managed it, but I have had an absolutely wonderful day - which has just kept getting better and better! Birthdays can be tricky things but today has been wonderful, easeful and generally brilliant. And a great way to enter into a new year of being me. Huzzah.

In some ways this birthday brilliance started yesterday - which was the first day for MANY days (weeks...months...) when I felt like I could pause. Breathe. Enjoy. And have some real "me" time. No worrying about what had to be done next. No checking things off a list. No working to timetables or deadlines. Simply having a day for me. And it was great.

By the end of the day I'd ended up at the Middlewood Trust and arrived in time to help put some new barge boards on the roof, have a quick look around the garden (which I hadn't seen before) and then help out with some bits and pieces before a wonderful feast of Thai-style soup and rhubarb and banana crumble. Can't go wrong there (especially as it was all vegan! Whoop!) The day had been patches of rain and sun (and I'd even managed to see some of the kite surfers doing brilliant flying things - yay for kite surfers) and although the evening didn't lend itself to sitting around the outside fire (given it was wet) a bunch of us settled down to card and dice games. These went on for quite some time (including me teaching the rest of the gang both Crazy 8s and 7s) and so I started my birthday in great company, having fun, lit only by candles. Mhaaaaarvellous.

Off to bed eventually in a fantastic timber bunk (top bunk, of course!) in one of the bunk rooms and I woke up just before 10am and had a wander down to the river and around in the woods before returning to...cooked breakfast! Kate, who was doing breakfast, had done me a special vegan one (superstar) so my day started with a toast-sandwich filled with delicious mushrooms, tomato, onion and herbs. And yes, I did enjoy the mushrooms - much to my surprise! I ended up working mainly in the garden today and the arrival of space-twin Jenny was superb - spending time with her is always fabulous but she brought me exciting presents, too! (Including a map! Yay!) It was but a brief visit with Jenny leaving me plenty of time to get back to nettles, helping tidy up after the volunteer weekend and being shown the new, improved water tanks. Throughout the day the sun had got stronger and generally more brilliant, and I was rather sad to be leaving the wonderous greenery and "other worldliness" of Middlewood to head back to Lancaster, but with a lift all the way to the station in a very comfortable vehicle, the downs of leaving were somewhat countered.

Getting to Lancaster station I'd just missed a train to Morecambe but kept the two other train-goers company until their trains had arrived and I wandered down to the bus station (being a Sunday I had a two and a half hour wait for a train. Not really a practical option). A chat with a friend (with birthday messages having been coming in all day, lovely) and then serenaded on the bus by my nieces, I had time to freshen up and cook some pasta to have on the Prom, while gazing out at the sun and the sea, before a friend from Lancaster arrived for a lovely evening of bimbling around and making (and eating) cake. Perfect. I even got to have candles on my cake - win!

And now, just wrapping things up, I can heartily say, it has been a Birthday of utter Brilliance. Thank you, one and all, for being part of it.

Homecoming

Every time I arrive in Morecambe. EVERY time I arrive in Morecambe it truly feels like I'm coming home. Every time the walk along the Prom induces in me something that makes me settle, breathe more easily, enjoy just being. Whether it's gusty, calm, rainy, sunny, dark, light - always the vista across the Bay takes me to a place that I absolutely adore. A place within myself which is a Good place to be. A place I haven't found anywhere else. So hurray for Morecambe - I've just had another homecoming moment and I love it.

Saying yes led me this evening to a wonderful evening in Lancaster Library - great art, fabulous music and fun conversation (which, sadly, noticeably deteriorated courtesy of everyone's favourite "social lubricant" - Alcohol. Don't get me wrong - it didn't turn into a disaster-zone, merely I noticed the increasing drunken-ness and my decreased interest in the conversation. Ho hum.) An invite from a friend of a friend (who I'd met briefly) brought me along to the opening night of 5 artists, all of who's work I enjoyed and accompanied by music from...two guys I already knew! Unexpected but very pleasant - and a very friendly atmosphere of just chatting to people and enjoying the evening. It's so delightful when everything falls into place like that and my overwhelming feeling is wanting to have more evenings like this: filled with art, music and good people having good conversations. And I fully intend to do what I can to make this a reality...

But this morning's thought for the day was around uncertainty and "not knowing". I was pondering whether the fear of not understanding why something is, how it works, what the "magic" is generates in people a dark void of unknowing that they want to fill with an explanation - regardless of whether it's actually reality. Similarly, the justification of behaviours or specific actions satisfy the justifier - but can sometimes be completely la-la. The varieties of logic involved vary in their efficacy on the world at large, but all are fascinating. Which, taking it a step further, delves into the realms of what, truly, is "reality". What is truth? What is right, and what wrong? But that's going off on a tangent - because really, my pondering was a sense that, perhaps, I'd stumbled across one of the drivers of some beliefs, actions and behaviours I find incredible. Not having an explanation can be an incredibly uncomfortable place to be, and can feel like a never-ending void. So filling it with a something, an anything, may well be preferable on many occasions. There's more thinking on this one, methinks.

And on a lighter note, my wonderous attic room feels more comfortable and wonderous as time goes on. Seeing my iron, the iron I purchased, I believe, for Em's wedding dress, sitting there looking like an awesome iron is fab. Feeling like the room is organised but lived in. And noticing the mysterious "POW!" badge that appeared in my pigeon hole at university but nobody ever laid claim to leaving it there. Or did they? My memories get mixed - but there were certainly 2 badges that arrived with me around the same time and one had the giver identified and the other didn't. I think the POW one didn't. But now, well, I really will never know.

Morecambe. Brilliant.

In the words of Calvin and Hobbes: The Days Are Just Packed

My word. Less than 24 hours in London? Really? Really.

A Variety Festival in a gorgeous old theatre which has stood the test of time for over 100 years and is having a resurgence? Oh indeedy.

The simple pleasures of a bike loaded up with gubbins to go tromping around with? That too.

Whether it's a day, a week or a month being referred to, it's been absolutely EPIC. Today I found myself chatting with a chap called Bart for the journey between KX and just beyond Doncaster. I learnt something about Pontefract. I was alerted to exactly how many power stations there are in Yorkshire. We traded stories about Bolivia (he didn't get pounced on by a puma. I won by a country mile). We talked bikes and train stations and the route to Aberdeen. And just generally had a bit of a natter.

London was both productive and thought provoking. Movement, albeit not as fast as I'd like, but movement all the same.

And the Variety Festival in Morecambe was outstandingly brilliant. *Outstandingly* so. Good times.

Marvellous Marvellousness

What a wonderous few days. I'm not normally a fan of being in London. In fact, as Adam will testify, I have been known to sit on the steps of the Tate (among other locations) and berate the very existence of London and my state of being in it. And yet something has shifted and I have been having a most marvellous time. Which is ace.

So, how is this so? What is it that is making London marvellous? So many things: so let's begin at the beginning.

Interestingly, the beginning is quite some time ago. Reading The Metro on my way to work one morning I discovered that an actor I have a bit of a thing for, Zach Braff, had brought a new play he'd written and director, and was now starring in, to the UK. Exciting stuff. More exciting: it was on in Manchester. Less exciting: it was fully booked. More exciting: it was playing (for considerably longer) in London. I could see Zach in real life! Yippee! Now, the most logical time to do this was over the Easter weekend given other commitments and places-to-be but for the past few years I've spent the Easter weekend in Nottingham avec joinees at Good Good Friday. I'd already been pondering whether to go this year or not and this seemed like an incredibly good reason to go for a change. The plan was taking shape and I then managed to convince two marvellous female friends to join the theatre-going. It was all looking very good.

Next up: to bike, or not to bike. I love cycling in London. More so than most other places I know. I can't quite explain it but I find something incredibly “I'm alive” about cycling in London and I've many happy memories of blatting around London by bike. However. On recent visits when I've had my bike with me it's often caused minor traumas (especially when interfacing with buses that seem to take objection to folding bikes – how anyone can take objection to Billy my Brompton is entirely beyond me, but there yo ugo) and when spending time with friends actually the act of travelling together can very much form part of the social experience. Except when I've got my bike and scat off on my own. The flip side is that when I don't have my bike I really miss the cycling and do everything I can to avoid the tube (buses all the way).

So, I'd been toying with to bike or not to bike and eventually reached a not to bike conclusion. And, again, this seems to have turned out to be the best option. I'm slightly terrified by how much pay-as-you-go-Oyster cash has disappeared in my hops here and there around the capital (oh, for my bicycle!) but I've also managed to fit in a fair amount of walking around. I've found places I wouldn't otherwise have found (Harley Road community gardens being my favourite: BRILLIANT community garden between Vauxhall and Oval, with a magic door that takes you through to Bonnington Square. Love it!), I've got to enjoy the sunshine, I've got a bit of exercise (which seems rather lacking in my life at the moment) and I've got to spend some time “communing with London”. Not entirely sure how better to describe that last one – but there's something very real about transporting oneself around London (on foot or by bike) and the walking I've done has provided that. And, of course, the walking has been aided by prior bike-street-knowledge. So I have been using “that part of my brain”, even if I haven't actually had a bicycle with me. Ah, bikes in London...

From the outset, the trip was rather beautiful – I left Yorkshire in glorious sunshine, with clear blue skies and lush green fields – except up high where the snow from the previous day was shining brilliantly. The blue of the sky, the green of the fields and the pure white of the snow, all set off by the sunshine, was stunning. Reaching London I'd arranged with rendez-vous number one (my friend, Emily) to meet at Old Street and had decided to walk round from King's Cross.

Spirits high, daylight still holding on, I wandering through the London streets drinking in the sheer London-ness of it all and, particularly as I reached Old Street, really enjoying the beautiful old buildings (which, for other reasons, I ended up dragging Emily to look at). So much history. So much lived and so much living. I also discovered the bit of water (I can't remember the name of it, but basically I think it's where the canal opens out a bit) which I had no idea was there. Sneaky.

Thursday evening saw a trip into Hoxton (walking there I was assured that “Tigger MacGregor is better than a dead rat” - something that may even be considered an insult but was actually a compliment in a rather odd way – you had to be there) which resulted in finding a £20 note on the street which rather merrily bought an Indian takeaway for dinner by the time we'd traversed London down to Richmond (a journey that included the Waterloo and City line which is always fun). A wonderful evening of chattering with Emily was had and a wonderous nights' sleep before pineapple juice and hot cross buns with home made jam for breakfast. Wonderous.

Up to Brixton on Friday morning for a very functional visit to my flat (including sorting through a big pile of post, the lion's share of which was immediately passed on for recycling or back to the post box for returning to sender) before a wander north (again in fabulous sunshine) to meet my friend Pippa for lunch. Our original plan of visiting the Bonnington Cafe was somewhat scuppered by it being closed for refurbishment, but was rescued by the Harley Road Community Garden. Ace. Again, a wonderful catch up before we both wandered off (initially together before going our separate ways).

Finding myself with a couple of hours spare I found and paused at the Vauxhall City Farm, ambled up to Trafalgar Square to the National Gallery (which I'd somehow never been inside before) and reminded myself that I really am much more of a fan of modern art than anything else. On the basis of that re-realisation (although the building's rather lovely, and the mosaics in the main hall fascinating. I do love floor mosaics) I next went into St Martin's In the Fields, another building I've often been outside but never entered. Not what I expected at all on the inside but I was lucky enough to have stumbled upon an orchestra rehearsing and, although intermittently interrupted, the sound of the instruments in that space was absolutely divine. Later some singers joined the rehearsal but somehow, the instruments alone captured me emotionally in a way the music of the singers with them just didn't. Fascinating stuff.

Shortly after I met Harriet and Alys (who had not met before but, by all accounts, got on rather well) and off to the theatre we went. What caused it (probably many things) I don't exactly know, but we were a merry group of giggly girlies who were rather over-excited and somehow managed to enjoy the theatre experience in a way I don't ever remember doing before. The play was disappointing in some aspects but definitely worth a visit and convincing the others that our post-theatre drinks should be had at my eternally loved Porcupine just by Leicester Square tube was delightful. The pub is always somehow disappointing but it's got a picture of a golden porcupine on its sign. And for that, I shall forgive it almost anything.

A night in Putney and then today I made the most of my Southbank membership (purchased primarily so I could go in the members' bar. Brilliant) with a visit to the Hayward Gallery with Adam. I'd never been to the Hayward before and was very impressed with both exhibitions that were on – but must confess my heart was most definitely won over entirely by the David Shrigley exhibition, the Geller (first name forgotten) being an interesting second billing but without the attachment of Shrigley's. I didn't really know David Shrigley's work before today but have fallen in love with it's simple brilliance. Highlights included the exhibit out on the roof, probably the first seen as you got to the level the exhibtion was on, which was a simple set of metal letters stating “Look at this”. Mesmerising. The Headless Drummer saw a black and white stick-man animation drumming. And yet somehow made me laugh wonderfully. Fimo creatures in many colours of what you find between the fridge and the cooker. New Friends animation seeing Mr Square turned into Mr Round and yet somehow enjoying his new celebrity. A hole in the dividing walls which I desperately wanted to crawl through – so both Adam and I did. A whole selection of black on white word-cartoon-type images, many of which seemed to be perfect for a series of “postcards to send your recent ex.” This offering doesn't yet exist and neither does the postcard book of a more general selection of these pictures but I have imagined them...so they may come into existence at some point.

Generally brilliant is my assessment of the Hayward. And I look forward to coming again soon. Me being such a Londoner and all.

The afternoon was spent with what I shall from henceforth think of as “The Extended Jones Brothers”. This afternoon I was with but 2 of the 3 Joneses, but also included two other “Extended Jones Brothers” - one I'd met before, another I hadn't. After food on the Southbank we set off for the Science Museum and after a brief panic that there was a ridiculously huge queue to get in (it was, in fact, for a special exhibition for the Natural History Museum. We think) we spent the afternoon ambling around the aforementioned Science Museum. My favourite thing about The Extended Jones Brothers is that they're all intelligent, articulate and fun. Both serious and lighthearted conversations were had (including my eternal response for when something is awesome and my brain is having a holiday and so doesn't want to engage the actual facts behind it: “Magic and joy. All you need to know. Explains everything.”) and a particular highlight was a conversation about what makes a fear a fear and not simply a dislike. Discovered I really don't have a fear of operations per se (one picked out by another in the group). But that I did have issues with something else – which I now can't remember.

Late afternoon Jo and Elliot joined us (hurrah!) and as The Extended Jones Brothers headed to Dagenham for texmex (not my food of choice at the best time) we wended our way to Maoz in Soho. Hurrah for Maoz. Still digesting my marvellous meal. Still loving Maoz. (They do falafel. And a salad bar. And chips. And cold drinks. That's it. And they do it very well.) South for them and North for me as I met Kieran for a brief catch up as he crossed London to Victoria – and a bonus hello with another-Adam and another-Emily as they'd been on the same train.

And with that I jumped on a number 2 bus and came back to the flat.

I've had a brilliant couple of days. Absolutely brilliant. And tomorrow I get to be up early (which is always wonderful – and particularly so in the summer when there's light) and on a bus to Oxfordshire to see my folks and maybe even get to do some gardening.

Life.

Is.

Ace.

Liverpool - it's a grower

I've been to Liverpool many times now over the years. But in the past 6 weeks I've ended up there on three separate occasions, doing three different things, and I'm beginning to see how much of it I've missed in all the years until now.

The Liverpudlians I know are very attached to their dear city but I'd never really "got" it before. It was just another city, wasn't it? But no. Liverpool has revealed itself to me as a world unto itself - which is somehow unsurprising but also satisfying to know.

Lime Street Station has generally been my entry point and even the station has developed in my years there. I remember going down to the docks the first time I visited but the development down there has just continued - I was slightly underwhelmed by a trip to the Tate on visit-before-this-one (mainly because I was expecting to see an Alice in Wonderland exhibition that had finished before visit-before-that-one and yet had still been being advertised) but my visit to the new Museum of Liverpool this weekend was brilliant. The waterfront is a wonderful open space and the Museum building a fascinating one, but the exhibits were also, in my mind at least, first rate. I started at the top of the building and worked down and found out many fascinating facts - including the fact that the only part of the Catholic Cathedral in the city that adheres to the original design (which, if it had continued to be followed, would not have been completed until 2133) is the crypt. And that there used to be an overhead railway along the docks. And some shocking statistics around poverty and employment. But it was also a museum I could imagine bringing several generations of a family to and everyone having a good time - plenty to look at, listen to, read, absorb, ponder...brilliant.

So, that's the docks. Well, part of them. The city centre seems to have refreshed itself and although I must confess I'm not a fan of shopping for shopping's sake, it seems to be thriving and is a pleasant place to be. They've changed the recipe for Crunch in The Egg (a vegan / vegetarian cafe at the top of a building just on the outskirts of the centre itself which has been a favourite Liverpool haunt of mine for years) but these things happen. I also picked up a fascinating bit of science/history in a central charity shop before jumping on a train home.

And one of the elements which fascinates me most about Liverpool are its empty buildings. Barely minutes walk from the new shiny hotels and apartment blocks (and in some cases literally across the road from) are buildings of old, empty and in various states of disrepair. Many are the kind of building I simply fall in love with - I can't describe what it is but the buildings somehow hold so much history, so many lives and so much history - but in an understated, "just another building in the city" kind of way. Two stand out in particular.

The White Star Offices: on the corner of James Street, immediately behind the three well known buildings (including the Liver Building) right on the front, is an old brick building (thanks to the photographer, callicrates2003 - the joy of the internet!) which now has some broken windows and clearly needs a lot of love. But it's right there. It's got masses of character and it's empty. Just empty.

Coleman's Fireproof Depository, Toxteth: any building which has branding or advertisements of old always doing it for me - Coleman's is no exception. As I walked past this weekend it was advertising itself for sale ("good income (masts)") but again, completely empty. The granite surround for the old doorway to the offices, it's stone carved letters beginning to fade through erosion, speaking of very different days.

Empty buildings always fascinate me. But what they draw out to me about Liverpool is the great disparity in places of living and working which are so close together. Minutes walk, if not back to back (there's another building, now I think of it, right next to the entrance to China Town - tall and proud and completely empty), buildings are thriving or rotting side by side. I can't fathom it.

And alongside the city itself, there are trains running every day, several times an hour, which take you out to the Wirral, to open beaches and beautiful countryside, to Moreton (which I kept thinking the announcer was  saying was Morecambe and I was getting mightily confused), to Hoylake and to West Kirby. Let alone the other locations I didn't explore today.

The Liverpool I've discovered over these three weekends, culminating this weekend in it coalescing in my mind and my understanding, truly is a world of its own. And a fascinating one with many possibilities, at that.

It's not very Rock 'n Roll but...

I'd been thinking about heading out to the cinema this evening - I've been out and about today until about 5pm and then had an hour or two before an evening showing. Seemed perfect. But as the hour of departure approached, I decided I didn't really fancy it. "Not very rock 'n roll, being in on a Saturday night and ready for a quiet evening curled up at home," I thought to myself. "But..." And it was the but that did it. The but was an excuse. An excuse for being me, doing what I do and feeling what I feel. Which is CRAZY.

For starters, I'm not rock 'n roll, I'm Tigger.

And, should there need to be anything more, I am who I am and how I spend my time is entirely down to me. No-one to justify to. No-one to please. It's me, myself and I. Admittedly, that's simplified by the fact that my life really is very straightforward in the sense that I don't have dependents or immediate "family" I live with (partner / children / very close friends). But even if those factors were there, there's still just me to keep happy and healthy - while supporting others where I can.

I've noticed myself almost unconsciously justifying myself to fit a perceived "norm" mold previously. And year on year, I've broken away from being bothered about it. But this evening's rock 'n roll moment reminded me there are still expectations I put on myself. There's no-one else doing it, just me. And what a waste of energy it is! The flip side to the "Not very rock 'n roll..." thought? "Great! I've an evening to rest. To curl up and enjoy my space. To get an early night so I can enjoy the daylight tomorrow. To save watching that film for another time when I REALLY fancy it. And most importantly, the best thing this evening in will do for me is help recharge my batteries. Acetastic."

Me? I like the flipside.

Entirely unrelated to rock 'n roll, but I've been having an interesting thought-foray into taxes and energy. I am generally very ignorant about what my tax money actually goes on. And I'm getting to a point of being very dissatisfied with that. I'm also wary of scratching too deep and finding much deeper frustrations with how the money is being spent (or, potentially, wasted). But that's another story. The energy issue is also coming to the fore, somewhat "by accident", and has brought me back to a query I've had for many moons.

Why is so little said about energy efficiency?

 Yesterday I was watching a film (Into Eternity) about Onkalo, a nuclear waste storage facility in Finland which is being designed as a long-term (100,000 year) storage facility for existing Finnish nuclear waste. Phenomenal concept and one I'm still reeling from not having heard of before. It's a serious undertaking but one which is the first (and as far as I know only) instance of its kind, all other nuclear waste being kept in very much short-term storage. Anyway, if you're interested, watch the film. Fascinating stuff.

At the end of the screening there were also a couple of short films about campaigning against the new generation of nuclear power in the UK. What fascinated me most about the shorts was a stand alone comment to the effect of:

"If every home in Britain was properly insulated, we wouldn't even need the new reactor."

Crikey.

There's a thought.

Where this nugget came from, what it's based on and what the caveats are around it (I'd love to know the financial comparisons, let alone the job creation potential) I have no idea (although if anyone does, I'd love to hear them!) but it was a real stop-and-think moment. This evening I watched a short TED video (www.ted.com if you fancy some thought provoking browsing) of a pro/anti nuclear debate. And not a sentence was given over to efficiency.

It's still mulling but I'm pondering. What happens if instead of funding a new power station (of whatever variety) the money is spent on energy efficiency measures for residential homes as well as commercial businesses throughout the country. Local job creation? Lower energy demand? Less fuel poverty? Lower household bills? Negative impacts? And are there reasons why money can't be spent like that? Again, I remember a crazy stat that rather than bailing out failing banks everyone in the UK could have been given a tenner - not necessarily practical, but a fascinating thought when it comes to the quantities of money involved.

But for now, I'm mulling. Wondering and pondering and contemplating my next step. It's an interesting spot to be in.

Philosophy and Tiggers are like oil and water. Still

Before I knew much about philosophy, I thought I'd really get along with it.

When I took a Philosophy of Science module (along with History thereof) at Uni I discovered I really struggle with philosophy.

And despite my continued best efforts, on finishing Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder I can say, wholeheartedly, I just don't mix well with philosophy.

In principle we have lots in common, philosophy and I. But when I get into it, with the different philosophers and thought approaches (and yes, they come fairly thick and fast in Sophie's World) I feel like I'd have to battle really quite hard to piece it all together and actually, I'd rather be doing something else.

And so, philosophy, for now I'm going to leave you to the Philosophers. I don't doubt your importance in the web of life - I'm just happy to leave you to it.

Aberdeen

 I always find it rather exciting when I find new and unexpected ways to break bags. I've broken many in my time. In all sorts of ways. But generally as a result of overfilling them. Today was no exception. Perhaps if I hadn't been taking photos. Perhaps if I'd secured it on with the bottom bit. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. But the reality is that my heavily laden pannier detached itself from my bike in a rather permanent way when one of the plastic clips that attach it to the rack snapped off. Which is a shame. I now get to investigate the joys of replacement pannier clips but until then the single spare bungee I had with me came into play and I got to the train. Yippee!

It's been an altogether intriguing trip. The last time I was in Aberdeen was over 2 years ago when I was doing a “tenant change over” and I found my last Scottish tenant. As much as that particular tenancy ended rather badly, it was the push I needed to realise that my time would be much better spent focusing my energies in one place (or at least one region!) rather than spreading them across several countries, let alone counties. That decision was back in July but the machinations have meant it's taken until now to get things lined up to put my little flat on the market. And, as is usually the way, on arrival back into Aberdeen I fell in love with the place all over again – and the same with my flat. It's a top floor studio with a north facing view from the kitchen across Aberdeen docks (how had I forgotten Aberdeen's a major port? How had I forgotten the docks? Who knows, but I had. Arriving back into the station it was all brought back in an instant, tho'!) and a sitting / bedroom with a huge south facing window that gets flooded with sunlight. And yes, I do mean sun, as in the sun shining, as in the sun shining in Aberdeen. In fact, this weekend has seen LOTS of sunshine and glorious it has been.

I'd found myself various free things to do over the weekend (vinyasa (sp?) yoga on Friday, introduction to meditation on Saturday, free gym (read sauna & steam & spa pool) access and a concert of Handel's Alexander's Feast in the cathedral on Sunday) and I'm fairly certain I did more exploring of Aberdeen in this 4 days than I did while I was here. Interesting reflection. In amongst that I discovered the joys of buying expensive paint (covers small cracks and holes – no filler required! Plus massively reduces the time spent painting), the wonder that is the Aberdeen Winter Gardens (in Duthie Park, the remains of a Victoria glass house built in 1899, severely gale damaged in 1969 and now restored to its current incarnation which includes a nationally recognised cactus collection, among other things. Oooh, one of which are the cats that used to adorn the south side of Union Bridge before it got filled with shops – and when I saw the north side ones still in situ I felt like I'd completed the set. Genius) and I rediscovered the wonderful air mattress that saw me through most of my actual living-stay in Aberdeen. And which I then got all sentimental over and have hence packed in my bags (yes, it may be the reason the pannier broke. But I suspect it was simply one aspect – that pannier's given me good service, and was second hand to me!). It's been an awesome weekend. I've had a great time and have thoroughly enjoyed myself, even the slightly weird feeling I had on Saturday night after a visit to the cinema. Three trips to B&Q, several to various food places, some wandering and lots of paint. Awesome weekend.

But the most intriguing factor was my response as I was leaving the flat. I've never lived in that flat. This trip is probably the longest I've ever stayed in it. But I eternally feel like this could so easily have been a home for me. If the time had been right. Which it wasn't. It's such a simple little flat. It's so high and spacious for just one person. It's got character. It's got a great big garden which, even with a big ol' chunk of drying lawn, has the same space again which could be a great little garden / allotment type place. And which no-one has paid any attention to since I've been there (I have fond memories of harvesting some rhubarb from an old root down there one visit – and very nice it was too). It's a very short cycle to wonderfully remote-feeling bits of coast. It's walking distance to the train station. It's minutes from the wonderful River Dee. It's just, well, wonderful. But my life has taken me elsewhere.

And having taken me elsewhere it really does seem like the right time to say farewell to dear little flat and hope that someone else falls in love with it and manages to live there. Or someone simply purchases it and has many tenants who fall in love with it. And I haven't even mentioned the joy of the coal cellar! (except now I have – there you go) But despite all that I found myself wanting to take photos of it as I was leaving (part of the reason the pannier broke). Wanting to feel like I wasn't losing it – that I was recording it's part in my life. I felt very strongly attached to it – and wanting to say goodbye properly. I ended up saying goodbye with a liberal shaking of teatree oil in each room (I decided teatree - the only oil I had with me - was a better smell than paint). And now I'm on my way south it feels OK to have said goodbye. It feels like it's time. But it also feels like a real shift in a way which I hadn't really expected. And to have had the pannier crisis (which, I have to say, I feel I dealt with rather well. Pause. Take breath. Check time to train departing. Assess options and spend a bit of time attaching said pannier on to the rack securely with a bungee. Get to train with 10 minutes to spare. Feel good) as I was leaving almost felt like Aberdeen didn't quite want to say goodbye either. Which was nice.

What I'm most looking forward to is the next occasion I somehow end up in Aberdeen – and being able to enjoy the trip, having various moments of memories intermingled with new experiences.

Aberdeen – I salute you. To all that's gone before and all that's to come, I raise my glass and gaze at the beautiful, beautiful full moon I'm touched to have with me on my journey back to the land of my birth.