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.