Elton and bike riding

Another week goes by - and it must have been quite busy because one morning I stood in the kitchen (must have looked a bit lost) and Harry said 'You need to get your bowl and cereal'. I knew mornings and I weren't natural partners but ....
We went to "Singing in the Rain" at the Hippodrome on Wednesday night. We quite enjoyed it, but it was one of those shows which just didn't seem to have the vibrancy and the energy that makes a good show a memorable success. We sat near a Welsh couple who had come to the show with their children and grandchildren and after making a few comments started to talk about Wales and then on to the shows they had been too. One of the funny moments was when we both tried to remember the last show we had seen at the Hippodrome and we couldn't - a bit sad!! Anyway, the musical is about the beginning of the talking pictures and at one point the previously silent actors were learning to speak 'proper' using tongue twisters - I have always enjoyed trying to get my tongue around the impossible and so here goes:

• Moses supposes his toes are roses, But Moses supposes erroneously, Moses he knowes his toeses aren't roses, As Moses supposes his toeses to be.
• Through three cheese trees three free fleas flew. While these fleas flew, freezy breeze blew. Freezy breeze made these three trees freeze. Freezy trees made these trees' cheese freeze.That's what made these three free fleas sneeze.
• Something in a thirty-acre thermal thicket of thorns and thistles thumped and thundered threatening the three-D thoughts of Matthew the thug - although, theatrically, it was only the thirteen-thousand thistles and thorns through the underneath of his thigh that the thirty year old thug thought of that morning.

Friday, I drove to Swansea and spent the day working - I had a good trip there and back (about 90 minutes each way). It would have been different if I was driving west towards Cardiff. There was an Oasis concert on and the traffic was backed up all the way from Cardiff nearly to Bristol - I have a feeling that some concert goers would have been a tad late. Saturday started with a late morning - it had been a long week and quite unusual for us we didn't have a lot planned so we had a bit of a lie in, a wander down the street for some hot bread, lunch in the sun (our own version of a ploughman's lunch) and then read newspapers and books till it was time for dinner. By, the time we had done the 20 quiz questions we had decided we needed to go to a Formula One Grand Prix, a polo match and Ascot Races before we leave England. There was an interesting article on Ascot races and how they have created some golden rules for racecourse etiquette. 'Last years organisers' tightened the dress code for entry into the royal enclosure in an effort to discourage the worst fashion faux pas' - sounds like something we would wear to the Rugby 7's in Wellington might not be the thing to wear at Ascot. This year organisers thought they should tighten up on etiquette - some of the rules are (and I quote)

• eating in public requires all private habits to be closeted. Pace yourself, so neither hoover like a wolf nor pick like a sparrow. Bring food to your mouth rather than drop your head.
• a man should stand up to greet a woman when she first arrives. There is no need, however, to jump up and down like a jack in the box every time she enters or leaves the room.
• hangovers are generally self-inflicted, so you should approach the day after an evening's overindulgence with stoicism, and keep your misery to yourself.
• being punctual always scores bonus points. You will come across as someone who cares about other people, and is efficient, organised and reliable.
• men holding doors open for women is still a chivalrous gesture, even in our less gallant time.

and so it goes...There was also an interesting article on the migration of animals - and how some have actually stopped migrating due to the changing climate - migration is all about best food sources and as climatic conditions change the food sources go...quite thought provoking when you think that 'inbuilt' radar now says to animals 'don't bother it isn't worth the effort as the grass isn't greener on the other side'. And the last article worth mentioning was about recycling. England recycles about 30% of its waste. It ships quite a bit abroad so that cheap labour in other countries can sort it and then also buys in recycled waste from other countries to keep its industries going - sort of makes you think.
Saturday night - a real treat - an Elton John concert at the Gloucester Cricket Ground (about a 15 minute walk from our place). We couldn't believe we hadn't seen the concert advertised, but Harry got an email a fortnight ago about cheap accommodation and a show ticket - we didn't need the accommodation - but bought a ticket. It would have sold out months ago in NZ (I'm assuming some kiwis like Elton's music) but we had no problem getting a seat - and it wasn't a capacity audience on the night. I guess over here, as shows and music go, England is spoilt for choice and at the prices they tend to charge, people don't quite get as excited as we do when musicians and artists coming to town. We wandered to the show down some streets we hadn't been before - they had closed the roads so the crowd moved slowly and orderly along the street - tempted by the children on the footpath selling home made cup cakes and drinks and older people trying to make some cash hawking rabbit ears, pink hats, Elton glasses and things that glow in the dark. It was a great show - they are all gifted musicians and the lighting effects added to the show, without detracting from the musicians. The people in the hot air balloons above must have had a good view. When the band first came on it made us realise how age creeps up on us. The support act was a young (20) singer called Richard Fleeshman - he reminded me a bit of the kiwi singer Sean Preston whom we have had the pleasure to listen to a few times. Anyway besides being the support act for Elton, Richard has been a Coronation Street star for a short time (he played Craig Harris) but I suspect that his support to Elton is doing his career more good than being a star on the 'Street' (oops did I say that?). He must be learning heaps from the veteran. Most of the Elton band now live in the US, and indeed three of them (not the original) are Americans. There is:

• Davey Johnstone (only 59 - but he look as though he has had a hard life) - he is Scottish and the rock guitarist and vocalist and has also played with Alice Cooper and Meat Loaf - he has performed 2000 shows with the band.
• Guy Babylon - the keyboardist and orchestrator for the band he joined in 1988 - both Harry and I thought he was pretty good.
• Bob Birch - is from Detroit and is the bass guitarist - often in the background on the stage but a really interesting looking character.
• John Mahon - percussion and backing vocalist - he had a huge range of different instruments (some looked as though they were home made with paper mache) used to make all sort of interesting sounds.
• Nigel Olsson - the drummer who has done 1500 shows with Elton.
  
• Elton (Sir Elton actually) - a great pianist and singer who has sold over 200 million records and who we enjoyed listening to on Saturday night.

Sunday dawned nice and sunny so we took a picnic lunch and our bikes and rode along the canal path from Bath to Bradford on Avon. The path was in good condition, so no punctures today, and it was rather fun riding along the path looking at the various conditions of canal boats and ringing our bell so that all those in front (walkers, children, dogs, cyclists, cats, runners) knew we were about to overtake. We had canoed along a bit of this canal in the middle of winter (our first winter here) and so we stood under the bridge where we sheltered from the icy rain and laughed at some of the things we do - it was so different today. After 3 hours of cycling - what else would we want to do when returning to Bristol - sit in the sun a bit more and read.

It was Trooping of the Colour in London on Saturday - we didn't go, but Mike and Barbara did - so here's a photo of theirs. Another thing we have to do next year.

Shropshire

We had been looking forward to this weekend for ages as we were meeting up with Barbara and Mike from Northampton. It was a late night on Friday with Colin and Tess (I tried a new chicken recipe from the cook book we were given for Christmas - that turned out o.k. except couldn't find the right pasta and remembered Tess was allergic to bread etc so ended up with rice, and from memory the chocolate mousse recipe I used to make in NZ - it set quite hard - so a bit too much chocolate I suspect but the choccy lover liked it). On Saturday bright and early we headed off to Shropshire for the weekend. By, the time we had arrived Mike had finished his second cup of coffee and after driving through heavy rain and dropping temperatures we drank our first while he had his third. There wasn't much enthusiasm from any of us to climb the hills around Carding Mill and walk along the top to admire the view (mist) and so we decided to have what Mike later called a National Trustathon - an apt name for exploring old houses and gardens during the weekend. Over the weekend we did three situated around Leominister (it is pronounced Lemster), Attingham Park, Croft Castle and Berrington Hall - all with their family history and landscaped gardens.
Attingham Park - the story of love and neglect. This is a rather large 18th-century mansion that from the outside didn't really have much appeal. It is quite interesting inside (there is a room shaped like an Octagon, a boudoir - where ladies go to "sulk" or "pout", and a nice tea room where we warmed up a bit). During our visit we learnt the "art of the fan" an "indispendable accessory of a lady worthy of the name" (why haven't I got one?). Actually it meant that the fairer sex never had to speak as they could communicate through the fan signals eg: Fan held in the left hand means "I am alone" but in the right hand: "I am married/promised". Fanning with the left hand means "Come closer and chat with me" but with the right hand "I wish to dance". Obviously important to make sure the right and left hand don't get mixed up and if a man was standing opposite would he think it was her right or his right? I did wonder if we could introduce this fan language again so we could sign for a cup of coffee (fan raised to the mouth), sweep the fan along the floor (please do the vacuum cleaning) or under the arm (have you done the washing yet) but decided the silent word may have little affect on today's man!!

The highlight was a walk through the deer park and the gardens around the house in the drizzle. It was landscaped by Humphry Repton who in the 1700's created a few gardens. He was one of those lads destined to go into the family business (his Dad was a tax collector) but had the courage to say "No, I want to create something beautiful instead". Around Humphry's park was a number of statues in the 'Give me Shelter' exhibition. Mike our tour guide did a great job of reading the leaflet enthusiastically describing the exhibits while the rest of us stood looking at the statues puzzling over the artists meaning and then coming up with our own.
There was Traum - a concrete, steel gilded tower with a gold coloured hot air balloon inside that you could just see through the lowest slit in the concrete (standing on tip toes). 'Traum' which is German for 'dream' but somehow it feels quite close to the English word 'Trauma'. How could you imprison one's dreams in a concrete tower rather than flying away with them -dreams aren't for capturing and hiding away, but for living - we all agreed on that one.
Then there was the clay, sand, straw and wood bird hut that was named 'How to survive in the Coming Bad Years'. It stood amongst some wonderful old trees (there are 1000 old year trees here just like in Sherwood Forest but we didn't see any Grandad's of the forest). The statue was described by one non-artist as an 'oversized Dalek' and we agreed with the description - actually it was meant to be a bird poo capture hut ie the birds live there and as a thank you for shelter and food provide poo to fertilise the land. By, the time we got to this one we all agreed "We just don't have the imagination to be a modern artist".
There was Dispossession a whole lot of little red monopoly houses sitting on stalks either covered by the water or above it. It apparently is meant to 'echo the memory of the succession of lost communities' - and was pointing the finger (Harry would say 'borax') at Humphry the landscaper who diverted roads and the River Tern to create his park. It also represents the shift from agricultural and industrial land use to leisure-driven land use (of the rich I think). Somehow we never came up with our own meaning for the little red monopoly houses but we did think that the yellow water lillies were rather pretty.
Then there is Roman - illustrating the curves of the River Tiber that runs through Rome. We could walk through this one and so had great fun with our umbrellas - I imagine that the artist Keith Wilson, might not have been too impressed but it was all a memorable bit of fun...
And the large huts made of polystyrene, steel and cement, that describes the displaced communities and war torn territories in war covered areas like Pakistan. The artist was apparently inspired by the sand-cast concrete sun shelters that are along Gadani Beach in Baluchistan (they did look a little bit like huts for surf life savers to sit and watch) and we could actually feel the desolation in this statue - it was probably the best.
And lastly Cellakabin, a rather creepy building that looked from the outside like a wooden cabin, or play house, or bird watchers hide, but inside had a mirror image under ground that reminded us of a cell or a hiding place. I guess it was all about first and different impressions really but we didn't stay long looking at that one.That night we stayed at a local hotel (floor in one room had containers to catch the rather bad leak), enjoying a carvery and good company - it did take a while to get there as Mike set the Satnav to take us on a direct route but instead it took us along a circuitous route of B roads through puddles and mud returning us back to a corner where the hotel stood (next time I'll navigate!!). Next day after a leisurely breakfast and some time looking through the window in the hope of clearing weather we went to Croft House - where we saw the best statue yet - no description but it really does look like a Bakewell Tart.

We arrived at Croft House and was treated to a short conservation tour - which took us into the entrance hall, dining room and a living area where the guide told us about the evils of the five agents of decay, light, humidity, pests, dust and wear and tear (we'd read about it the day before), and then a historical tour (we had to return to the gate 10 minutes away to get our free tickets to this tour) which took us to the same rooms but we did learn some interesting historical snippets.
Croft Castle was first built in 1100, was rebuilt around 1400, and was converted into a manor house in the 16th century with extensive renovations later on. It's been in the same family since the beginning except for quite a long time after the 17th century when the family lost a lot of money in the South Sea bubble (the 18th century stock market crash - it was all to do with Britain facing a financial crisis and borrowing money from the South Sea Company at a 6% interest rate and a promise of exclusive trading rights in the South Seas - the company planned on monopolising the South American slave trade. The company issued shares, and once the first issue sold well, reissued more with the promise of huge profits that were never realised - so a lot of investors went bust! Sound familiar?). The family and the castle were reunited back in the early 1920's and it was gifted to the National Trust (the family still live in the apartments - quite a common occurrence here as it means the family don't incur huge death duties and the properties are looked after by the trust). We also discovered that the volunteers do all the cleaning (every day there are visitors - dusting, vacuum cleaning - that was news to us). We also wandered around a rather large walled garden, spring flowers galore, grape vines, fig trees (figs and walnuts are apparently the Turkish Viagra - for real - this is from some friends who have recently been to Istanbul - just to prove it here is the photo) and some lovely trees we hadn't seen before.
Berrington Hall
Lastly, there was Berrington Hall, where the band played and lots of people dressed up (including the Home Guard - or perhaps Dad's Army) in period costume to commemorate d-day. The Hall did have some interesting interior (like the huge laundry with drying racks) and a lovely children's bedroom, and little walled garden. The Hall sat in a typical English landscape designed by Capability Brown - another famous landscaper from the 1700's - but the son of a what sounds like a less wealthy family as his mothers Christian and maiden name aren't even recorded.
His "serpentine" gardens are called that because the lakes are usually in the shape of a serpentine. Lancelot Brown was called "Capability" after he once commented that he could see the 'capabilities' of an area for landscaping. I fear that I may have a nick name at work - I was at a meeting the other day which involved a telephone conference - I introduced myself as it came to my turn and the guy in London didn't hear and said 'Sorry I didn't catch your name - Minky who?'. Everyone laughed - of course!!

And that was our great weekend and we are looking forward to the next one with Barbara and Mike already.

To finish the week off...we have caught up in NZ re the new All Black captain and the result of the David Bain trial and that there were 3 cases of swine flu in Wellington - keep safe everyone.

In Bristol there has been a long strike by rubbish collectors.

In England the local body elections there has seen a big swing against Labour and the EU elections has resulted in no Labour members for the EU - I can feel a government crisis coming on ...how long will Gordon Brown persevere every paper asks.

And some workmates were watching all Friday NZ against Ireland in the 20/20 - we won!!

By the Seaside

e didn't have a lot planned this weekend and when Harry rang on Friday and said that he had found a reasonably cheap hotel in Bideford, we decided to go away for the weekend. (Hotel was reasonably o.k. built sometime in the 1800's right alongside the river so we could watch the tide go in and out from our bedroom window. From the door we walked uphill to the bed and Harry had to sleep on the down hill side of the bed so he didn't roll into the middle during the night (the thought of him rolling onto the floor did cross my mind - but I needed my sleep!!). On the Saturday morning just before leaving we got an invite for a day out at Hay on Wye (we would have loved to have done more exploring over there with friends) and an invitation for dinner (yes we would have loved to have gone there too) but we had booked the hotel so off we went (Murphy's Law strikes again - always get invited to more than one thing at one time). We started off where we finished last weekend at the little town called Lynton sitting on the hill overlooking the Lynmouth Harbour. As we had caught the cliff railway up the previous weekend, and it was quite late, we didn't really explore the town. Driving into the village this weekend we saw Lynton from a different perspective - passing some lovely old houses (most converted into B&B's) and boutique shops before heading to the Valley of the Rocks.
We lunched on the grass near the car park and then wandered along more of the hill tops with the wild goats and many others enjoying the sunshine. It was a glorious weekend, many people turned up to work with red faces and body parts on Monday - we were careful coming from the southern hemisphere but did enjoy feeling the warmth on our skin and having a bit of 'pink' to show off. We covered up on Sunday to make sure we didn't turn too red.




After the Valley of the Rocks we drove the coastal route to Ilfracombe (it is pronounced ILL at the beginning - I hadn't noticed before that the capital 'I' and the little 'L' are the same on a keyboard. On the way we stopped at a National Trust property and was talked ("Oh, its lovely, certainly worth the effort") into taking a one hour stroll (there and back) to Heddon's mouth. Well we enjoyed the walk and a chat with dog owners and seeing the MG club out for the day but the beach was a little rocky cove with very little attraction really - I guess the pub at the end of the return journey would be an attraction for many (and if it hadn't been for our picnic...) and perhaps the fact that it was once a haven for smugglers might be another - but there really wasn't much there. Anyway we have joined the informal club called 'ramblers' as the cove was described as a 'popular destination for ramblers'.

So on we went ... enough walking on the hills and the countryside we want the beach!!
Oh! I do like to be beside the seaside
I do like to be beside the sea!
I do like to stroll upon the Prom, Prom, Prom!
Where the brass bands play: "Tiddely-om-pom-pom!"
So just let me be beside the seaside
I'll be beside myself with glee
There's lots of girls beside,
I should like to be beside,
Beside the seaside!
Beside the sea!
I read an article on the web, written in 2006 by Jonathan Thompson. It was titled 'Britain on the beach. Which type are you?' His theory is that 'Britains' have a love affair with the seaside, but that we all divide into 'different tribes' when we step on to the sand. The tribes compete for space at the seaside and all have their own distinctive customs, dress codes and equipment. I wish I had read the article earlier as I would have looked more carefully at all the beach go-ers but to a certain extent I think he is right. The tribes are the

• "sunworshippers" - the biggest tribe - they just visit the beach for sunbathing (about 30% of all beach goers)
  
• "socialisers" who go to the beach mainly to meet friends and play games (close to 30%)
• then there is the "picnickers" who apparently compete for space with the sunworshippers and socialisers (about 25%)
• and the "watersports lovers" - this covers everyone in the water I think from floating in a dinghy, kitesurfers, swimmers and paddlers (about 9%)
  
• and the "specialist tribes" like those that use metal detectors to hunt for treasure at low tide, and "sea anglers" and I guess rock pool lookers etc.

Sitting on the beach will never be the same again!! Not sure where we fit in, as we would have loved to swim but oh so cold (it hurt our feet to paddle), did lots of walking and exploring and yes eating too. Anyway, another survey said that UK residents make around 298 million trips to the coast every year - out of 60 million people I don't think that is many trips really - but I guess it could have something to do with the weather and there are so many parts that are a long way away from the beach (how lucky we are in NZ).
At Instow beach we were the "picnickers". We barbequed in the late evening on a little disposable barbeque (not many people use gas - its still charcoal here). Instow Beach is a long beach on an estuary very popular for fishing and sailing as well as other beach activities. It has heaps of sand dunes and is on the mouth of two rivers (though I can only remember seeing one and don't know if it was the Taw or the Torridge).
Then there was Woollacombe Beach - where we were just visitors for a few minutes. We didn't stay long enough to join a tribe for the day. It was a lovely long sandy, surfing beach (rather rare in England), but parking was difficult and we wanted some brunch and there didn't seem to be much around unless you had bought your own food. The residents are very proud of their Blue Flag standard (its given to beaches with "high quality bathing water, good management, cleanliness and safety"). Speedboats and jet skis aren't allowed (so lots of water sports tribe members go elsewhere). There were lots of surfers amongst the swimmers which didn't seem particularly safe and you are allowed to windsurf, sail, sea canoe and kite surf. We went on to Ilfracombe for brunch and on a beautiful day, when it felt like it was around 25 degrees at 11.00 in the morning we were the only ones sitting in a cafe along the beach front and it occurred to us once again, that the English don't seem to do brunch - a Sunday carvery after 12.00 is more popular.


A visit to Ilfracombe Beach was really a history lesson and we joined the "picnickers, sun worshippers and specialist" tribes for a good part of the day. Ilfracombe's Beach is another Blue Flag Award with - wait for it - the 'third best rock pools in the UK" according to the BBC Wildlife Magazine. We couldn't resist. We walked through 4 tunnels (carved by hand by Welsh miners in the 1820's to enable the English gentry to visit the sheltered and private coves of the area - one for gentleman and two for ladies - or it might be the other way round). In 1903 the Ilfracombe Gazette & Observer, wrote"The visit to the Tunnels should certainly be included in the programme of every visitor to Ilfracombe" but they were advertised earlier than that and in 1867 the pools (made with limestone and available for use in low tide) were described as ideal for "invalids, waifs and strays from the heat of India, worn out clergyman ... and to people whether young or old, whose ailments arise mainly from want of stamina, and general lack of tone".
There were articles along the tunnels giving some interesting insights into the life of the bather in the early 1800's. There were articles on etiquette for boys ("Guard against a profusion of slang that would give credit to a pick pocket"), and men ("Men who can not swim should never take ladies upon the water), and for girls ("Get up in time for breakfast") and woman (oops I forgot to photograph it or perhaps there weren't any rules for us). There was the history of horse drawn wooden bathing machines which were wheeled to the waters edge so that the "modesty of the ladies could be maintained" - these are beach huts with wheels. It wasn't until 1905 that mixed bathing was "allowed for a limited time in the hotel baths...The new regulation has revolutionised the 'Gentlemen's side of the Tunnels Beach'...and it works so well, one wonders why it wasn't introduced before". So, we sat for ages enjoying the scenery and watching the "tribes at play", paddled in the water (waiting for it to warm up which it never did), and waited for the tide to go out so that we could see the Victorian swimming pools and the 3rd best beach rock pools in the UK. The tide did go out eventually, and we walked the wall, like lots of others (one man who had obviously been reading the "Etiquette for Gentlemen" stepped back to let me pass and promptly fell in). I enjoyed looking at the colourful seaweed which the children swam around in (didn't see any crabs, or little fish, or other sea life that makes the rock pools so much fun to explore). When I got back to Bristol I did a bit of research I discovered that NZ has its own Tunnel Beaches. Around 1870s workmen John Cargill employed a number of work men to excavate a tunnel down to a secluded beach in Otago so that his family could bathe in privacy. That's a must when we get back to the Southern Hemisphere. We finished our trip to Devon by looking around the harbour and the little church (previously light house) on the cliff above the harbour (where the light house keepers family amounted to 14 children living in a little 2 bedroom stone hut).