Tag Archives: books

Slow fortnight in Canada

Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , ,
Line-up at Palmer Circle: Jackson, Oliver, Seth, Amy and Sophie.
Line-up at Palmer Circle: Jackson, Oliver, Seth, Amy and Sophie.

Returned on Sunday from a fortnight in Canada, staying with the Murrays in Caledon – most of the time with Chrissy and her children, and all of the time with David, Oliver and Amy. Quite a strange time, really, in that we simply stayed at 88 Palmer Circle nearly the whole holiday  and read books, plus playing a little croquet and badminton. The weather was mostly very hot, and the mosquitoes and other insects were biting.

My attempts to get Oliver and Amy to Niagara came to nothing, mainly because none of the three vehicles available could take seven people. Instead David, Chrissy and the children went into Toronto on the second Thursday (making use of the subway from Kipling), summited the CN Tower and visited the Aquarium. Roger and I assisted in the transportation to Kipling, both ways. The next day the Vanderkooy children departed, heading for camp somewhere up north.

Dot came to Kipling with us in the morning, and Roger took us to Glen Williams, a delightful little village with a cafe that served proper tea. There was also an art studio, glass-blowing and a river. We came home the pretty way, close by Forks of the Credit national park on the Niagara Escarpment, which we visited properly on the Saturday morning – yes, the day we came home.

Forks of the Credit sounds more like a financial institution than a national park, but it is in fact a beautiful stretch of wild land (the Credit is a river). We walked to near a waterfall and caught a glimpse of it, but the proper viewing platform was closed for safety reasons. On the way back, Dot and I took a short cut which no-one else believed was there (possibly excepting David and Oliver, who did the polite thing and stayed with their hosts) and got well ahead. A small but significant triumph.

Following this we went to Erin, where there was an excellent fish and chip shop, followed by a stop at Alton Mills Arts Centre, which was impressive. Beautifully landscaped and with good quality artists. Oliver, Dot and I got separated from the others and visited  the mill race, which was spectacular, then stopped at the cafe, where Dot showed the assistant how to make tea.

Earlier in the week the girls went shopping at Don Mills shopping complex while the boys went to the Nottawasaga Inn Resort, where we played mini golf, table tennis and table hockey. We also went on various slot machines, and Oliver managed to obtain gifts for Amy and Sophie. We also had lunch in the restaurant, with which we were not very impressed, mainly because of the strangely tasting water. Good view, though.

Other than that our only outing was on Tuesday 27th – our wedding anniversary – to the Blu restaurant in Yorkville, Toronto, for an evening meal. This was excellent; even though we arrived quite late, the staff were very friendly and helpful (I think Roger’s brother Rob knew the waitress and had primed her). The food was first class, and we got an anniversary cake too! OK, the price we paid was very high (over $500) but for a special occasion it was worth it.

I almost forgot: we did have another couple of outings to buy food with David and Chrissy, and I took a couple of short walks, one of them with Dot. Chrissy also took us to the rail crossing on Mount Hope Road, because  … well, because we wanted to go.

At Forks of the Credit
At Forks of the Credit

During the fortnight we read a number of books, mostly recommended by Barbara. They were: The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, by Rachel Joyce; Proof of Heaven by Eben Alexander; A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra; The Great Gatsby, by F Scott Fitzgerald; The Afterlife of Stars by Joseph Kertes; and two funny books by Nora Ephron – I Feel Bad about my Neck and I Remember Nothing.

The Joyce was brilliant, the Alexander intriguing ( a near-death experience), the Marra a complex but mainly good novel set in war-torn Chechnya, the Kertes a clever (sometimes too clever) novel of brothers escaping from Hungary, and the Fitzgerald classy.

I also wrote a few poems and walked into the pool with my iPhone in my pocket. Attempts to save it by putting it into rice proved futile, and yesterday I obtained a new iPhone 6 from O2. I had been planning to get one anyway; so I was not as distraught as I might have been.

The week was haunted by a guinea pig, which was resident in the girls’ room and which seemed to be causing serious allergy problems for Barbara. Fortunately, not for anyone else. She survived, but was clearly uncomfortable much of the time.

Barbara is writing a cookery book, and the first week consisted of meals that were destined for it – all of them delicious. On one occasion Chrissy’s friend Michelle, her children Jackson and Ryan and her parents (Lynn and Jim) came for lunch; and on another a couple of business colleagues – Rick and Shirley – with the addition of Rob Murray, who proved pleasant and entertaining but looked gaunt.

The journey both ways were largely uneventful. On the way there David had organised everything, and he and Chrissy were with us and the children. On the way back it was just us and the children. First problem was that Amy had to unwrap her present for her Mum at customs. This did not go down well, but she recovered. We distracted her agony by going to a restaurant in the airport that used iPads to order, and Oliver demonstrated his expertise. Good food too.

The flight was normal, but in England it was very warm, and we had difficulty finding the bus at first (I hadn’t noticed instructions were on the ticket). It was a long trip to the car park, via the North Terminal, but that was nothing compared to the journey from there to South Mimms, where Vicky was waiting. There were two accidents on the M23, holding us up, and the M25 was agonisingly slow: we came to a halt repeatedly. The children went to sleep until we speeded up nearer our destination.

Vicky, who had gone blonde, was cheerful despite her long wait, and we handed over successfully. Then we had quite a bit to eat in Starbuck’s, as well as drinks and drove home. I almost dozed off once, but was roused by rumble strips, and we paused for fresh air at the A11 Monument.

Happily our brown bin had been emptied, and although our parasol had been blown on to the bird bath, no damage resulted. We watched reruns of the Third Test, made do with minimal repast and went to bed about 10.30pm.

My talk to the CNS Old Boys on the Friday before our holiday went well after Dot dashed home to get a connector for the computer. The food at the White Horse in Trowse was also good, and the tour of the Norfolk Record Office that preceded it was excellent too. our journey to Gatwick was also fairly smooth, although after we were dropped by the APH bus at the airport we had a bit of a problem finding the hotel (there was a tunnel direct from the airport, but we didn’t know that). The room was OK, but we had trouble finding a small amount of food and eventually restored to a bar snack. The staff were all very friendly, though.

Since getting home we’ve been in a bit of a haze, but I had my glasses fixed after getting the iPhone 6, which I’m very pleased with. We’ve also unpacked, of course, been to the supermarket, had our hair cut by Linda (today) and sorted out stuff for the bins, including a particularly ugly food caddy.

I’ve also been to an Archant coffee morning, and Dot has been to see her Aunt Ethel, who is not at all well. Still not back in phase, and we have cake and compline tonight, though I’m not sure who’s coming.

Local history difficult to pitch

Uncategorized, , , ,
Dot by the Tower of London as daylight fails

At the end of a damp and gloomy week, there is a touch of sun in the sky. And there is some sense of achievement too, as I’ve finished and sent off the five poems to Ian Fosten. All I have to do now is turn up on Friday and say something about why I wrote them. “Because you asked me to” will not be an adequate answer. Dot has decided to come too, so I will have moral support. From there we will head north and stay the night at Toton by invitation, going on to Buxton the following day. I have also finished a sermon for Sunday, based fairly tightly on one I wrote exactly ten years ago.

On the subject of poems, Oliver sent me a brilliant one that he wrote at school. It’s about the moon, and called God’s eye, and has rhymes and similes and everything. Exceptionally good, IMHO, and he was sent to show it to the headmaster. Spoke to him and to Amy last night on the phone: Amy seemed to like the story I wrote for her and found it “very funny”. She thinks it’s my function to be funny, and she’s probably right. I must write her a really funny story.

Speaking of funny stories, I have just finished the current Booker prize winner, The Sense of an Ending, and it’s not funny at all. In fact it was rather disappointing, the plot depending on one character not revealing something that they had no real reason not to reveal and that was not too hard to guess anyway. I suppose it had some interest philosophically, but it belongs to a category that I find increasingly frustrating: well written but basically pessimistic and lacking in any trace of redemption. On a brighter note, I’ve now finished two of Kate Atkinson’s Brodie novels, which were unusual in combining good writing, murder and humour.

Going back in time – while Dot had a long lie-in, not knowing I’d left the house, I spent all of a chilly Tuesday morning in the garage showroom at Wrights, while a man did his best to disguise some scratches on the car caused by a vandal a few weeks ago, and another man tried to correct a problem with the direction of the lights. I think the latter was successful, but I haven’t really been able to try it out yet. Should find out this evening, when we eat at the Banningham Crown with Jessie and Roger.

I did go out to Mundesley library on Wednesday for a Paston-related Reading the Landscape session, during which Dr Richard Hoggett gave half a dozen of us some pointers on how to use computers to research local history. Difficult to pitch, you might think – and indeed one lady (out of an initial company of eight) left almost immediately after discovering it involved computers at a level beyond her expertise. Not sure what her expertise was. Rob had always intended to leave early, but another two also fell by the wayside after getting the direction they required. I could have left then too, but felt I should stay on as the only PHS representative, so I lingered. However, after 90 minutes I departed as well.

On Thursday Dot discovered she had a Nafpht meeting at Thurton, which interrupted our “day off” together. However it gave me a chance to finish off my poems. By way of compensation we went for lunch to Frankie & Benny’s, which seemed to be making an attempt on the Three Horseshoes slow service record until I complained, when the main course miraculously appeared. Staff were very apologetic, and the food, to be fair, was excellent. In the evening we went to the cinema to see The Iron Lady, which featured a tremendous performance by Meryl Streep as Mrs Thatcher but in the end I think got the balance slightly wrong: too much dementia and not enough time given to her earlier life. Still compelling, though.

Flood of puns from broken cistern

Uncategorized, ,
A squirrel performs acrobatics to reach our peanuts

Pretty quiet Easter, really – partly because Dot was recovering from some kind of respiratory tract problem (cold, or allergy) and was less energetic than usual. I had intended to go to the Maundy Thursday service at St Luke’s but in the end, typically, didn’t. The weather was very warm until today, when a cold wind brought the temperature down, but not low enough to be unpleasant. On Good Friday, after food shopping, we took some flowers up to the Rosary and then some more to the cemetery at North Walsham. Following that we called in at Jessie’s for a cup of tea, and I managed to break something in her cistern, giving rise to a flood of puns on Facebook.

On Saturday David drove up and met Dot at Ethel’s while I cooked roast beef, which we enjoyed later on, followed by Dr Who, which continues to be remarkable. Sunday was a very busy day: I led the Communion service, which attracted a mammoth nine people, including me, the preacher (John Easton) and the music group (Dot and Phil). Felt good, though. Dot and I were slightly late for the traditional family meal at the Red Lion in Eaton, but not enough to make any difference. Always good food there, and nice to see the German side of the family (Birgit, Joe, Ilona, Elfrida). Afterwards David drove off home to Caddington – the children had been in Ireland with Vicky, and it was nice to see David on his own for a change – and Dot and I had a brief break at home before heading for the Seagull Theatre, Lowestoft, for another evening of poetry and song. Ian Fosten was on good form.

Today I spent some time in the garden, cutting down some stuff that was spreading far too quickly, and in the process removing some rose branches that Dot had apparently been trying to train over on to the trellis. Ho, hum. On the whole, a satisfactory hour or two, especially as I managed to resurrect the church’s Easter candle (see what I did there?). The wick had been unlightable, but I managed to cut the wax back and restore it to a healthy state. Sometimes my practicality amazes me.

While this was going on, Norwich City – who despite my pessimism had beaten Ipswich 5-1 last week – also came back from the dead to beat Derby 3-2 with a goal in the 95th minute, triggering incredible scenes at Carrow Road and in our garden, where Dot was listening to the radio and talking to Anne, who spent a couple of hours with us while Philip was at the match.

Have finished another couple of books: Orchid Blue, by Eoin McNamee, which is about the dubious conviction of a young man for murder in Northern Ireland – poetically and beautifully written, but suffering from the disadvantage that it was a true story and thus deprived of any satisfying twist in the tail; and The Song Before it is Sung, by Justin Cartwright, which is also based on true history but manages to introduce enough fictional content to give it the necessary uncertainty – again, beautifully written and containing some fascinating ideas about different reactions to the horrors that life sometimes throws at us (in this case, Hitler). Conjured up place and period in stunning fashion.

Crab apple jelly in church

Uncategorized, ,
Flowers on my parents' grave

Odd day yesterday. Felt tired out and on edge: walked into city to pay in cheques and got cold and wet in a sudden shower. Then played very good game of chess in the evening in a match against Fakenham which we won 2½-1½. Probably not enough to stop us getting relegated, but a good result nevertheless. Not as good as Norwich City last Saturday, who managed 6-0 against Scunthorpe.

Bitty sort of week all round. Had a chat with Phil and Joy on Friday about a situation at their church, then drove them to the doctor’s during the rush hour, which wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be. In the evening we had the Cracknells and Roberts from St Augustine’s round for a very pleasant meal and conversation. Heather C is training to be a vicar and Ruth R is about to become a mother for the second time, around my birthday. Her child will be roughly 66 years younger than me.

We had our hair cut on Saturday, and I was feeling distinctly odd for most of the day – so much so that we decided not to go to the cinema as we’d intended. Bit better on Sunday, which featured lunch at church, orchestrated by aforementioned Ruth R. Lovely atmosphere appreciated by new woman (well, new to us) and by everyone else, I think. It was Mothering Sunday, and Nicholas went for the “God, our Mother” approach, which worked well. Music seemed good too.

In the afternoon the weather was nicer and after putting some flowers on Mum and Dad’s grave at The Rosary we proceeded to North Walsham to put more flowers on graves – in this case Dot’s parents’ and sister’s. Called in at Jessie’s, but she was out with Roger, and so we headed for home, but we followed a sign we’d often seen for an exhibition at a church, and it turned out to be Stratton Strawless, former home of the Marsham family, one of whom had been a tree enthusiast. This was mainly what the exhibition was about, but there was something deeply attractive about the place. Dot used the facilities to make herself a cup of tea, and we bought some crab apple jelly. The sun was shining, and the church was an unusual one, with a low, square flint tower. Didn’t see a soul while we were there, but felt we had been made very welcome.

Cold and grey with showers again today, but the forecast is good for the rest of the week. I’m getting behind on my Lent poems and need to catch up. Have read two very good but very different books recently: Salt, by Jeremy Page – a novel of the North Norfolk marshes, with a dash of the Fens, and some unusual characters, beautifully written; and The Woodcutter, by Reginald Hill, a totally compulsive thriller set partly in the Lake District. Both books gained a lot for me from being set at least partly in places I know very well: a key section of the Hill book is set on the Pillar high level route, which I have walked and can easily visualise. The Page book spends much of its time on the marshes between Morston and Blakeney, another well known and favourite spot of mine.

Perfectly positioned in the middle of nowhere

Uncategorized, , ,
Yes, it's another flower picture: the legendary snowdrop walk at Walsingham

On an uncharacteristically springlike day last Thursday, Dot and I decided to go to Walsingham for the snowdrop walk. As she needed to go to the chemist first to obtain relief for persistent mouth ulcers, we took a somewhat unusual route, crossing to Aylsham and then taking the road past Blickling Hall to Saxthorpe (near Little London) and then on through Melton Constable, the only Midland coal-mining town in Norfolk. Not really coal-mining, of course: it just looks like it. The railway is really to blame: oddly, Melton Constable used to be the hub of Norfolk’s railway system. Perfectly positioned in the middle of nowhere. What were they thinking?

From there a beautiful high road (high for Norfolk, that is) stretches across to the main Cromer-Lynn road and from there it was a short distance north to Walsingham, via Great Snoring. Now that’s what I call a Norfolk village. Negotiating the maze that is Walsingham, we found the car park and had a lunchtime snack – deliberately small to make up for the lovely but substantial meal we had enjoyed the previous evening at Cafe Rouge in Norwich, where I at last managed to make use of my Gourmet Society card. I do like Cafe Rouge: the food is always good, and the service friendly.

Walsingham was pretty crowded for February – it was half-term, after all – but the walk in the priory grounds (they call it an Abbey, but technically it isn’t) was very pleasant, despite some slight muddiness. The temperature was mild enough for me to leave my anorak in the car, and I was glad I did. Short look round the museum and old courthouse afterwards, and of course we had to pop into the shop, where I unexpectedly bought a book critiquing Stephen Hawking’s theory that we don’t need God any more. I’ve already read it (it was very short), and found it lucid, convincing and surprisingly funny.

I’ve also finished another couple of books recently: Surface Detail by Iain M Banks, and The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum, by Heinrich Böll (translated from the German). I love Banks’ SF Culture novels, and this was up to par, though unnecessarily gruesome in places. The Culture civilisation itself is a wonderful idea, which I just tried to describe here, but have deleted my description on the grounds that it sounds silly when the Culture is in fact marvellous. I like to think of them as angels, but when they are in fact massive ships with lightning-fast Minds, they’re probably not everyone’s idea of an angel. Take it from me, they’re a lot better than they sound.

I’ve always liked Böll, and this short novel is typically crisp and typically Continental, in a good way. It’s about the way the media can distort and destroy someone who is basically innocent, but done in a deadpan, unemotional style. I’m not sure any modern European newspaper would sink to the the depths portrayed here, but the warning note is true.

Very wet journey to Martham on Friday night, standing in as a guest for our chess C-team, who often seem to run out of players. Odd game: missed a move early on that would have given me a big advantage, then nothing much happened for a long time until I recklessly broke through and gave him some play as a result. Then made a very bad move that accidentally turned out much better than it should have, and I would almost certainly have won in a complex position, but I was very short of time. I think I was right to accept his offer of a draw, because I would almost certainly have lost on time otherwise. On the way home in pouring rain I almost aquaplaned off the A47, but just held it on the road. So I nearly lost twice.

On Saturday we met Heather Savigny and Simon for lunch at Bishop’s, which is quite a high-class restaurant run by the father of one of Sam’s friends. Excellent meal of the Green-Inn type. Planning to take the Higbees there as a thank-you for Allan lighting up our loft. Spent a lot of time discussing Heather’s fight for equal rights at the university, which is apparently run by intransigent white males. Surprising: I had thought UEA was more radical.

I did sermon at church yesterday on part of Romans 8, and the process going on in creation. Paul writing about entropy roughly 1800 years before it was discovered (or given a name, anyway). Today Dot is en route to Eltham College for a P4C session with Barbara. I should get a lot done, or, if previous experience is anything to go by, not much.

Alarming departure

Uncategorized,
snow at palgrave
Barbara and Dot take a tour of the garden

Still relaxing. Had a lovely meal last night and then watched French Kiss, another Meg Ryan film and a very funny and satisfying one. Today I am taking it easy again after a delicious Lighthouse-style breakfast from Barb, following which she and Dot departed alarmingly for Toronto with shopping in mind. Roger and I stayed here. I have done some packing and checked e-mails, etc. Nothing from British Airways yet, but at least they’re not on strike. Lovely as it is here, I think I’ve reached the stage when I shall be glad to be home, which should be about noon on Friday (or 7am Toronto time).

Have read a few books – two by Randy Wayne White which I think are not quite as good as his earlier stuff, plus Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, which is excellent. Hard to describe what it’s about: maybe the way we perceive things is as close as you could get in a sentence. Have also read Gawain and the Green Knight, which against all the odds was quite compelling – and very pleasing too, though not exactly politically correct. Plus a book by Roger’s brother John called If we only knew, which I found very moving. It’s broadly about our relationship to God, but consists mostly of people’s surprising and humanly inexplicable experiences, often in Eastern Europe, where he used to work. I’m thinking of getting it for our Tuesday Group. Have written the makings of a few poems, but only two of them are anywhere near complete. Nevertheless, I’m very hopeful. Have just been watching Crossroads – the DVD of a guitar festival organised by Eric Clapton. Some excellent stuff on there, including a number of the greats.

5 April 2008

Uncategorized, , , ,

A not-very-good picture of our church music group in rehearsal last Sunday, featuring Dot on violin, Phil on guitar and Matthew (hidden) on piano. When not on camera, I was on guitar. I’ve been trying to take a few pictures to go on the Norwich Christian Meditation Centre website, with limited success. Inside shots of a large area like a church hall are quite difficult.

We got rid of far more books than I anticipated – probably over 100 – and also managed to extricate the small bookcase from its inaccessible position under the stairs and reposition it on the landing. This opens up more space for books and also looks quite nice. Good week for clearing out: Dot spent yesterday afternoon doing the garden after the arrival of our £35-a-year brown wheelie bin for garden rubbish. She’s pretty much filled it. I’ve also got through a lot of the large pile of newspapers and magazines that were waiting to be read, and my in tray is looking almost manageable. We now also have all the new lights ready to be installed: Dot has phoned the electrician, but is pessimistic about whether he will ring back as he promised to fix a date.

I have booked a hotel in York for later this month, when we are planning to see a play and spend a day looking round the city. I’ve also booked the train tickets, and on that one journey alone have made the purchase of our senior railcards worthwhile. Today we head south for Surrey, where we are spending the night in a hotel before attending the ruby wedding celebration of one of Dot’s college friends at Leatherhead Golf Club. A little bit worried about this, because after two or three days of warm and very pleasant weather, snow is forecast again – especially in the area we will be tomorrow when we travel from Leatherhead to Caddington to stay the night before bringing Oliver back home with us. It’s rather critical we get home by 4pm Monday, because I’ve written a reference for one of my former students, who is picking it up from me then: like most former students, she is trying to meet a deadline that is almost impossible.

On Thursday after taking the books to a charity shop (and picking up our new sofa cushions from Multiyork and taking some glass to the recycling centre at Waitrose) we paid our monthly visit to Park Farm for lunch – and a new ear-piercing event for Dot, who had been having trouble with the previous attempt. Then in Norwich we revisited one of our banks (a former building society) to sort out the chaos that had ensued from our previous visit. I think we’re OK now, subject to their updating my ISA without incident. In the evening a lengthy PCC meeting, at which potential conflict over use of buildings was averted by a brilliant and inspired speech from Paul on what church buildings were actually for.

Today Dot is meeting Anne in the city at 11am before “rushing” back to leave for Surrey. Anne’s daughter has just got engaged, and our Italian friend Eugenia has had a baby girl – Francesca. Almost as excitingly, our free national bus passes have arrived, together with the train tickets for York. There will be no holding us now.

2 April 2008

Uncategorized, , ,

Dot on a little-known bridge over the Wensum, halfway along the riverside path from the Gibraltar Arms to Sweet Briar Road – our Sunday afternoon walk. Now we’re halfway through another week, and the weather is almost springlike. I’ve just written another piece for my website and made some changes to both the InPrint site and the Meditation Centre site (still in development). I have four websites to keep up to date, which is proving quite difficult, although it will become easier when they are all established. Maybe.

Yesterday Dot and I travelled down to Metfield in Suffolk to see a friend with whom Dot is discussing expanding their “thinking skills for children” activities. While they went into detail I took a three-mile walk through the surrounding countryside and at the end of it found a house which looked as if it might suit us. Nice village, but I’m not sure it has enough pluses: for instance there are no mountains, and it’s no nearer the coast than Norwich is. In the evening we had our usual Tuesday group round – plus one, who said what a nice house we lived in. Which it is, of course.

In between these two events I went to see the nurse, who looked into my ears and said that if she syringed them, she might perforate the eardrum. I asked her how many ears she had syringed, and she said: “Hundreds.” I asked her how many eardrums she had perforated, and she said: “None.” Still, I didn’t go for it. This desire to warn patients about every conceivable thing that could go wrong is clearly having the desired effect.

On Monday I spent a couple of hours with a friend from church showing her how to put a piece on the website. As she had a Windows laptop, this proved a bit of a tortuous experience, but we got through it all right. She has a lovely little house on King Street, in the section that has been done up.

This morning Dot has taken her aunt up to the hospital and left her in the city. We are planning to go through our books this afternoon and get rid of as many as possible, which may not be many, but we shall try to be ruthless. Have just read a brilliant novel by a Swede called Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.