Thoughts 06/01/2011
Until I pointed it out to them, my friends, Joe and Ellen, hadn't realised that the name of their son, Joel, was made up of the first two letters of each of their own Christian names. Fortunately, other friends, Pete and Stephanie, Tom and Adelle, and Vic and Lena haven't had children, yet. Somewhat less fortunately, however, another couple, Charlie and Avril have. That said, they live in Essex; so it's not too much of a problem. 1 Comment Trixie 05/23/2011
My sister had been invited to a school reunion in Llandudno last week - and, by an interesting coincidence, I had been educated in the same region when my mother and I evacuated to north Wales during WW2. However, although I was born a year before the war started, my sister wasn't born until after it was over and she was intrigued to know where her mother and brother had lived during the hostilities. So, she asked me to join her in a journey down two memory lanes and, at the same time, we could visit our aunt who was in a care home an hour or two further down the north Wales coast. Being retired, I had the time (and the local knowledge) to find suitable accomodation for our visit and I decided it would make sense to stay in a neighbouring hotel when visiting our aunt and a nice B & B residence when visiting the region where my mother and I had lived. There didn't seem to be much sense in using two vehicles during the whole of the visit. So, as my sister and I would be approaching from different directions, I had arranged with the extremely helpful owner of the B & B to be allowed to leave one car with them whilst we used the other to continue the journey to the care home. By the time of the visit, however, I had bought a top-box for Trixie, my new trike (see below) and I left my car at home.  As I had only owned the trike for about a month - and not being entirely sure how my aged body might cope with quite a long ride, my original plan had been to break the journey from Surrey to north Wales by staying overnight with friends in The Cotswolds. Unfortunately, however, having packed everything into various storage compartments and donned several layers of warm clothing, waterproofs, and a new high-viz helmet, I discovered that Trixie's battery was flat and I was obliged to delay departure until the following day whilst she was re-charged. As a consequence, instead of cruising along A and B roads, I was obliged to use the M25, M40, M6 and M54 - and, although the experience wasn't entirely unpleasant - a fundamental reason for buying a trike was to enjoy 'touring'; something which isn't that easy on the UK motorway system. In the event, although my departure had been delayed by some communication with the dealer from whom I bought the trike, I still managed to meet up with my sister little more than half-an-hour later than planned and, after parking Trixie in a convenient corner, we set off towards the first place on 'my' memory lane - and that was my first school. Nowadays, it's a rather smart hotel (below - left) where the owner and staff were incredibly welcoming - allowing us to see most of the bedrooms and, in particular, the one which had been my dormitory (it was a boarding school, BTW).    After our 'guided tour' of the former manor, we headed off to pay a quick visit to the care home - the large white building near the middle of the photo (above - right). We spent about half-an-hour with our aunt before heading off to our hotel - which was also a large white building (above - centre). n.b. Most of the smaller photographs in this blog can be enlarged by 'clicking' on them.   On the following morning, before going to the care home, we visited a small village which, although I had driven past in hundreds of time for the best part of seventy years, I had never actually seen the small - and very picturesque - harbour. One of the reasons I had particularly wanted to visit the port area was that I had learned (on the Welsh, S4C, TV channel documentary) that a local bylaw restricted use of their harbour to local residents; a situation which appealed to my Celtic ancestry because it's ambience was in sharp contrast to that found in some other harbours in the region - which seem to have been taken over by urban yuppies (see below).   Our aunt had, recently, been transferred from one room to another; so, after visiting the harbour, we returned to the care home and my sister (herself a former owner of a similar establishment) spent most of the day sorting everything into a more manageable condition. At the same time, she put together a shopping list for me to attend to. It was about half-past-four in the afternoon when we left the care home which meant that we were in time to visit an ancient church which was just across the road from our hotel. Later that evening, we entertained a couple who have been very supportive to our aunt before, during, and since her move to the care home. Interestingly, the wife and I had attended the village school together after my mother and I moved to her parent's smallholding for the latter part of the war. On the following morning, whilst my sister spent a little more time tidying our aunt's room, I was sent to do a little more shopping before we bid our "Farewells" and headed off on our trip down memory lane and, on the way, we spent some time looking around the village where our grandfather was born. Later, we stopped off at the small town where the second boarding school I attended was located and, once again, we were treated with enormous consideration by the present owner of the property and I could identify the room which had been my dormitory. Equally interesting, I was able to locate and pose in the place shown in a photograph which appears in a book about the school. Those who knew me at the time, are pretty certain that I'm one of the boys in the original photo (below - left).   Later, I was reunited with Trixie. During our absence, the owners of the B & B (below) had been kind enough to have covered her with a tarpaulin and she started first time. That evening, after a fish and chip supper in the town centre, I spent a pleasant half-hour or so, chatting to the aforementioned owners. Interestingly, it seems almost certain that the house - which had previously been owned by a doctor - would have been where my mother and I would have received medical attention during WW2.  On the following day, I showed my sister around Snowdonia; in particular, the area where my mother and I lived - visiting what is said to be the second-oldest church in Wales and a house on the shore of a beautiful lake (below) which I often visited as I wandered over those hills when I was four or five. That particular house, by the way, has retained a special place in my memory. However, for some reason or another, I don't recall the memorial which is located quite close to it. Evidently, it was fortunate that we were visiting on a rather damp day in May because - according to local residents - during the summer months, the quiet tranquility which I recall is a thing of the past thanks to the antics of more of the aforementioned urban yuppies, their off-roaders, speedboats, and water-skis..     On the following day (last Saturday) my sister set off to her reunion and I decided to ride back home via the care home so that I could deliver a couple of things my sister had bought for our aunt after we left her. However, glad though I was to spend a short time with her again, it proved to be a slightly unwise decision because I encountered some atrocious weather on the way and, later, as I headed back south, it showed no signs of abating. Indeed, by the time I had reached Shropshire, although the waterproofs had been extremely efficient, my body was sending out distress signals and, having found three or four travel lodge type of establishments to be fully booked, I started to look for B & B accomodation and was fortunate enough to find a cheerful roadside pub/restaurant/ hotel near the village of Much Wenlock where I enjoyed a very welcome steaming-hot bath. On Sunday morning, after a hearty breakfast, I headed south again - pausing for a snack at a riverside bistro-bar between Oxford and Henley-on-Thames and arriving home in the late afternoon satisfied - if for nothing else - that I had become significantly more familiar with three-wheeled travel than had been the case a week previously. Sport 05/14/2011
It's no secret that I don't care for Sir Alex Ferguson. In much the same way that Linford Christie, Michael Schumacher, or Prince Naseem Hamed, for example, are people whose records have to be admired, there is something about their personality which makes it difficult (for me, at any rate) to warm to them. In saying that, today isn't the right time to dwell on the issue because the Manchester United manager has achieved his long-held ambition of beating Liverpool Football Club's record number of titles in the top division of the English League - and, for that, he is to be congratulated. Thoughts 05/04/2011
The recent controversy surrounding the USA's decision to conceal from the Pakistani authorities their plans for the raid on Osama Bin Laden's compound prompted me to speculate upon the theory that (in my opinion, at any rate) the character of a nation can sometimes be assessed by the manner in which their sportsmen and women conduct themselves. For example, it is difficult to escape the fact that the country in which the leader of al-Qaeda chose to hide himself doesn't enjoy a very good reputation - especially in cricket. In the past - and over a period of several years - many cricketing sides have experienced problems with Pakistani players and officials. Some might say these issues could be due to cultural differences - and they may be right. However, for whatever reason, credit must be given to the CIA (or whomsoever is responsible for these decisions) for electing to avoid any confusion by taking matters into their own hands. I suspect Mike Gatting - together with several Australian umpires would have relished the opportunity to do the same. rambling 04/29/2011
Each spring, our Best Man and his wife try to visit us at a time when we hope to be able to enjoy the bluebells which can be seen around the area in which we live. So, this afternoon, after enjoying a nice lunch after The Royal Wedding, we set off in search of some. Sadly, most had bloomed a little earlier than usual; the ones in the first photo (below), for example, are hardly visible. However, we caught sight of a better 'crop' later on.........   Crafty 04/22/2011
In response to the interest shown in my wife's talents, here's some other stuff she's produced over the years.......          CDrafty 04/20/2011
Those who can remember my wife's contributions towards the village scarecrow competition in recent times will know that she's a dab hand a handicraft. Here are a couple of those scarecrows (below left) together with a dragonfly brooch (centre) and some replica Crown jewels (right) which she has also made over the years. n.b. most of the following photos can be enlarged by 'clicking' on them.    Her speciality and favourite craft is called decoupage - which involves decorating a surface or an object with paper cut-outs which are then varnished as illustrated by these kitchen cupboards she did a few years ago (below).   Which brings me to her latest creation - a kitchen chair decorated to illustrate some of the animals who visit our garden (click to enlarge) .....      Sport 04/19/2011
Last week, I watched the deeply moving memorial service for the Hillsborough 96 on TV and, during the sequence where homage was being paid to Kenny Dalglish for the remarkable support he has given to survivors and the families of those less fortunate, it occurred to me that for most of my own 72 years, Scottish players and former players have provided the backbone for Liverpool Football Club (LFC). Evidently, right from the start, the likes of Sir Matt Busby played a part in making the club what it became and, during my own lifetime, Billy Liddell, Bill Shankly and the aforementioned (soon to be "Sir", perhaps) Mr. Dalglish have left an indelible impression; not just at Anfield - but throughout the whole city. I was born in Liverpool and, more recently, spent the best part of ten years living in Scotland; so, I'm fairly familiar with both regions and there are a couple of things which strike me as being intriguing. For instance, one might have expected LFC to have a stronger association with Wales than Scotland. After all, Liverpool has been called the capital of north Wales. What's more, it could be argued there are more grounds for rivalry than compatibility between Clydeside and Merseyside. Ship-building, for example, is an industry in which they have competed against each other for generations. Yet, despite differences, a bond seems to have developed - and, in particular, between LFC and Glasgow Celtic FC. It may surprise some in this day and age - but I can recall when someone's religion could be ascertained by asking which football team they supported and, although that sort of bigotry has almost completely disappeared in Liverpool, it still exists in Glasgow. So, I'm intrigued (amused, even) by the strength of the bond between The Reds and The Hoops - especially since Everton FC would seem to be the more likely team with which Celtic fans would wish to be associated.* It can only be supposed that many are not aware of this fact and, in that respect, it might be fair to say that, "Ignorance is bliss". However, if 'ignorance' seems too a harsh choice of words - then, perhaps, 'illogical' might be more appropriate because it is difficult to see any logic in the predominately Catholic Celtic fans forming an alliance with a team with a strong protestant tradition - whilst, at the same time, being part of what is probably the most intense rivalry in UK sport. i.e. with Glasgow Rangers FC. In any event, if the relationship between LFC and Celtic fans goes some way towards reducing the bigotry which I have witnessed, at first hand, when I lived in the west of Scotland, then it can only be seen as a move to the good. Long may it continue. * Religious differences have been cited as a division, with Everton usually placed on the Catholic side; but sectarianism is not a problematic issue. In actual fact, both teams were founded with Methodist involvement, somewhat undermining the notion of a Catholic–Protestant split. Trixie 04/14/2011
The weather during the last couple of weeks has been extremely pleasant. So, the first two or three excursions on Trixie have been in bright sunshine. The last couple of days, however, have been rather dull and I thought it might be a good idea to 'road-test' the waterproofs I managed to persuade the dealer from whom I bought the trike to be included in the buying price. I didn't, by the way, see any sense in buying special boots because I thought my walking boots would be adequate. Here's a photo.......  Pity the photo doesn't fully reveal Trixie's twin front wheels feature. n.b. Since posting this blog, someone has noticed that there seems to be an L plate attached to the rear registration plate and has asked why it's there if this machine can be ridden on a full car-driver's license. Well, I have to admit that it is an L plate - and the reason it's there is that I thought it might be a sensible (temporary) means of alerting following motorists to the fact that I might be slightly more cautious that the average motorcyclist. trixie 04/10/2011
Those who have viewed the video at the end of the previous blog may have noticed that Trixie (the name I've chosen for my trike) has a system which enables the machine to remain upright whilst stationary without the rider's feet touching the ground. It's activated by a switch on the handlebar and can be engaged whilst coming to a complete stop. However, using it could cause a new rider to lose attention and there is a danger of losing balance - and, if that happens before the feet reach the ground, the machine could fall over. Sadly, that's what happened during my first attempt to establish a relationship with Trixie and, since she's quite a large lady (399cc) and - dare I say it? - quite broad in the beam (see video) I was lucky to get away with little more than bruised ribs, a few scratches, and a dented ego. Clearly, a re-think was necessary and my motorcycling neighbour (who has access to a nice level piece of land) found some gardening stakes and a couple of old traffic cones to set up a pretty impressive lay-out for a CBT training course.......  In addition to recommending practice - and conscious, perhaps - that it was over half-a-century since I last rode a motorcycle, he suggested I should become re-acquainted with two wheels by starting off with a slightly smaller machine than Trixie - and, to that end, he offered me a little 50cc scooter he uses to get around the grounds he looks after. It's shown below (click to enlarge) together with another photo demonstrating the fact that I don't visit a barber as often as I used to before retiring. Having said that, I have to say that the sensation of wind blowing through what hair remains is quite pleasant.   After a couple of days practicing on the Peugot, I hope to progress towards being re-introduced to Trixie - confident in the knowledge that, should I lose my balance again, a lawn should be far more forgiving that a tarmacadam surface. |
