Sunny and warm winds and everyone out on the promenade. The scent of sugar announces the cotton candy booth before we can see it and there's also a stall where they're grilling corn on the cob and roasting chestnuts. The ice cream kiosks are also seeing queues. Take a walk on the pier. The boat with a bar on deck is doing a fair business. there's now a tent-style bar on the beach itself - not bad and chairs outside as well as in. It does seem the beginning of the dividing out of the beach by the various commercial interests, though. Already there are large areas staked with skeletons of beach ubrellas and a huge stack of chaise long frames looking like an industrial recycling tip, as well as fairly unsightly corrugated metal storage sheds advertising hotel and beach umbrella hire. How much longer until it looks like the south of Spain, with only narrow public paths leading down to the sea between the large tracts cordoned off by hotels and their deck chairs.
M&M stop for tea on their way back from Limassol, bringing a lovely herbal tea mixture with them, courtesy of Maggi's friend Anita, who is studying Greek with her.
JAWORSKI TRAVELS
We live our lives forever taking leave - Rilke
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Monday, 1 February 2010
Saturday, January 30/2010
Overcast, and still windy. We have only to glance out the window to see the small palm trees whipping round - our weather vanes. But it's warm enough and rain not in the forecast, so we meet for coffee as usual. Then go to view the sample apartment for rent at Petrou Brothers. It's nicely designed as a summer hotel room. Pointlessly large kitchen with little cupboard space and bedroom with no chairs - only the bed to sit on whilst watching the flat-screened but too small television fixed to the wall in the corner. So the extensive renovations are essentially redecorating aimed at creating spare and cool rooms for the summer beach crowd.
Friday, January 29/2010
BBC World carries live the Chilcot Iraq inquiry today as Tony Blair testifies. And then it rains, so I get drawn in and watch pretty much the whole six hours. J waits for a weather break and heads to the beach for a walk (and I to the internet, passing a dead rat on the way back, outside the new restaurant that opened last year). But it's on until 7, given the time change.
Gives rise to images of Blair at confession:
Bless me Father for I have, I have...yes, well it's impportant for you to understand what a very difficult time it's been, and of course there are things that seem clear in hindsight that just weren't the chief concern when I...no, of course I did have plans, there was a great deal of planning...it's just that in the event the things I planned for were not the same as the ones that transpired. Could I have planned better? Well no, I genuinely believe that I planned extremely well - it's just that wicked people came and spoiled my plans. A firm purpose of amendment? No, if I had it all to do again I wouldn't change a thing.
Gives rise to images of Blair at confession:
Bless me Father for I have, I have...yes, well it's impportant for you to understand what a very difficult time it's been, and of course there are things that seem clear in hindsight that just weren't the chief concern when I...no, of course I did have plans, there was a great deal of planning...it's just that in the event the things I planned for were not the same as the ones that transpired. Could I have planned better? Well no, I genuinely believe that I planned extremely well - it's just that wicked people came and spoiled my plans. A firm purpose of amendment? No, if I had it all to do again I wouldn't change a thing.
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Thursday, January 28/2010
Our flat faces a little back street. Opposite us a large building housing offices and the little charity shop that supports animal rescue on the ground floor. Above, there is a mixture of flats and offices. This morning a man in business suit comes out onto the balcony across from us and lines up on the railing a small cup of Cypriot coffee, the requisite glass of water to accompany same, and an ashtray.
There are many people smoking outside these days. A smoking ban for restaurants and bars came in January 1st amidst the usual grumbling - though the climate makes outdoor coffee pleasant most of the time. Thus a commentator tells of the man who always sat on the bar stool nearest the window, where he could see the television screen and blow his smoke out the window. As of January 1 he has moved his bar stool just outside the window, from which place he can still see the tv - and blow his smoke in through the window.
The Swedish chanel rebroadcasts Obama's state of the nation address, complete with subtitles. It's a good speech of course - from a speaker who's always excellent - but what fascinates me is the stagecraft, almost choreography. The applause and even standing ovations at the end of every second phrase. It's obviously the convention, and of course the Republicans aren't cheering, but the co-ordinated bursts of enthusiasm are so utterly foreign to either Canadian or British mentality that they'd be impossible to organise. Maybe in the Middle East.
There are many people smoking outside these days. A smoking ban for restaurants and bars came in January 1st amidst the usual grumbling - though the climate makes outdoor coffee pleasant most of the time. Thus a commentator tells of the man who always sat on the bar stool nearest the window, where he could see the television screen and blow his smoke out the window. As of January 1 he has moved his bar stool just outside the window, from which place he can still see the tv - and blow his smoke in through the window.
The Swedish chanel rebroadcasts Obama's state of the nation address, complete with subtitles. It's a good speech of course - from a speaker who's always excellent - but what fascinates me is the stagecraft, almost choreography. The applause and even standing ovations at the end of every second phrase. It's obviously the convention, and of course the Republicans aren't cheering, but the co-ordinated bursts of enthusiasm are so utterly foreign to either Canadian or British mentality that they'd be impossible to organise. Maybe in the Middle East.
Wednesday, January 27/2010
Maggi over in the evening for a drink and a game of Scrabble. Just like old times.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Tuesday, January 26/2010
Recovery of bodies continues from the Ethiopian plane that crashed shortly after take off from Beirut. Dismissing terrorism, spokespeople all point to the fact that the plane - which went down in a ball of fire, breaking up before it hit the sea - took off in a bad storm. A probable lightning hit is mentioned. This is disturbing with regard to other flights - are lightning hits frequent and should all planes be grounded during electrical storms? And if it isn't highly hazardous to fly through thunder storms, why is everyone so certain it was ligntning and not an explosion?
A young drunk comes into the student internet, first identifiable by scent. There's a free computer next to mine and he pulls up a chair, talking first to the man on the other side and then to himself. Briefly he puts his head down on his arms and appears to sleep - then stumbles out.
A young drunk comes into the student internet, first identifiable by scent. There's a free computer next to mine and he pulls up a chair, talking first to the man on the other side and then to himself. Briefly he puts his head down on his arms and appears to sleep - then stumbles out.
Monday, January 25/2010
The Finns have created a new human right - to the internet. They have guaranteed to bring high speed broadband to every household in a country with fairly low population density. Canada please note.
Monday, 25 January 2010
Sunday, January 24/2010
Rainyish day - well, January is when the little rain that cyprus gets does fall. So reading and telly. We're now reading Julian Rathbone's A Very English Agent. Spy fiction set in the early 19th century. Well researched and as interesting for the social background as the narrative.
The Doha Debates are on BBC World tv in the afternoon. Today's resolution: the present government in Afghanistan is not worth fighting for. (Resolution passes 51:49). The Doha debates are mainly impressive for the caliber of the debaaters they are able to attract - high level UN representatives, ambassadors, MPs, etc.
In the evening we watch a french film on Dubai television - a good film and, interestingly, subtitled in both Arabic and English. Film punctuated by loud singing outside as groups (of sports fans?) return home. It occurs to us that public singing is virtualy never heard in Canada any more - we pay people or electronic devices to do our singing for us.
The Doha Debates are on BBC World tv in the afternoon. Today's resolution: the present government in Afghanistan is not worth fighting for. (Resolution passes 51:49). The Doha debates are mainly impressive for the caliber of the debaaters they are able to attract - high level UN representatives, ambassadors, MPs, etc.
In the evening we watch a french film on Dubai television - a good film and, interestingly, subtitled in both Arabic and English. Film punctuated by loud singing outside as groups (of sports fans?) return home. It occurs to us that public singing is virtualy never heard in Canada any more - we pay people or electronic devices to do our singing for us.
Saturday, January 23/2010
Gloriously sunny at our market coffee spot, though the night rain still spots the table and chairs til they're wiped. Quite bus this morning as everyone seems to emerge from the past showers into the sunlight.
In the evening M&M come over for supper - fish chowder.
In the evening M&M come over for supper - fish chowder.
Friday, January 22/2010
The news of the day is that a woman has been arrested and accused of the recent killing of the head of the Sigma television station and various other media enterprises. The theory is that she hired the hitmen who actually did the deed as an act of revenge. It seems she had been a tv presenter at Sigma and had been sacked by the boss - the murder victim. It's hard to know which is the more astonishing - that an ordinary person should wish to hire contract killers (and for such a trivial reason as having been fired) or that she should have the money and the contacts to do so.
Thursday, January 21/2010
The censorship program on the student internet computers functions like an old nanny who is well-meaning but hopelessly out of touch. Thus keeping track of world currencies - or things that affect them, like the price of crude oil - is made more difficult as I am protected from (shudder) "investment" and many of the world's most reputable newspapers are banned because they contain sports news.
This morning I have a few extra minutes and decide to look up one of my ancestors - Hannah Odell, born 1798 - to see if I can spot any new information. One site looks possible but turns out to be forbidden. Grounds cited: match making.
The English news is not on the cypriot government television station when I check. The television station has a nightly English language news broadcast lasting less than ten minutes. Tonight it is displaced by a tennis match from Australia featuring cyprus's beloved Marcos Baghdatis - obviously a replay as it's the middle of the night in Australia. Baghdatis is pretty likeable, and a good player, heavily supported by fans who, J points out, are carrying far more Greek flags than cypriot. Eventually replay ends and news follows. cypriots with video recorders suffer much more than we do from the frequent unannounced program changes - shows occasionally starting earlier than scheduled as well as later.
This morning I have a few extra minutes and decide to look up one of my ancestors - Hannah Odell, born 1798 - to see if I can spot any new information. One site looks possible but turns out to be forbidden. Grounds cited: match making.
The English news is not on the cypriot government television station when I check. The television station has a nightly English language news broadcast lasting less than ten minutes. Tonight it is displaced by a tennis match from Australia featuring cyprus's beloved Marcos Baghdatis - obviously a replay as it's the middle of the night in Australia. Baghdatis is pretty likeable, and a good player, heavily supported by fans who, J points out, are carrying far more Greek flags than cypriot. Eventually replay ends and news follows. cypriots with video recorders suffer much more than we do from the frequent unannounced program changes - shows occasionally starting earlier than scheduled as well as later.
Thursday, 21 January 2010
Wednesday, January 20/2010
Malcolm's eagerly awaited 12th birthday - eight time zones away.
Buying toothpaste at Elomas, we check out the various teas - including a herbal one called cinnamon and gloves. Outside Elomas there is a small free English language magazine - mostly advertising - called Larnaca News. Not much content, but a small news item mentions the fact there was, on the morning of December 22, an earthquake measuring 4.9 on the Richter scale. And we remember waking early in the morning and being aware that the building was trembling - slightly but unmistakeable, and more than momentarily.
Buying toothpaste at Elomas, we check out the various teas - including a herbal one called cinnamon and gloves. Outside Elomas there is a small free English language magazine - mostly advertising - called Larnaca News. Not much content, but a small news item mentions the fact there was, on the morning of December 22, an earthquake measuring 4.9 on the Richter scale. And we remember waking early in the morning and being aware that the building was trembling - slightly but unmistakeable, and more than momentarily.
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Tuesday, January 19/2010
There's nearly 3 inches of water in the red bucket when we get up in the morning. The ceiling in our top floor flat leaks in the same spot as last year and began doing so last night in the downpour. Far from being distressed, we had positively welcomed the leak, remembering that last year we acquired a shiny new red plastic bucket to catch the drips - and that it made an excellent washtub later for handwashes, bigger and more convenient than the kitchen sink. This bucket, though, is a grubby mop pail, fit for catching drips but not for clean clothes. But the rain has stopped so it should soon be gone. Maggi quips "life's tough at the top."
Finish reading Good and Faithful Servant - unauthorised biography of Maggi Thatcher's press secretary. Quite an interesting study of how a neutral civil service job became an instrument for pushing Thatcher's personal views - and sometimes even the press secretary's own views , even when they were not shared by cabinet. Also an early but notable step in the vesting of authority in unelected advisors rather than cabinet - now of course standard practice whether in tory Canada or New Labour UK.
Maggi's text re the sheep's head she ate at lunch in Nicosia: the eyeball was surprisingly tasty. J shudders and says he's glad he heard after he had finished eating.
Finish reading Good and Faithful Servant - unauthorised biography of Maggi Thatcher's press secretary. Quite an interesting study of how a neutral civil service job became an instrument for pushing Thatcher's personal views - and sometimes even the press secretary's own views , even when they were not shared by cabinet. Also an early but notable step in the vesting of authority in unelected advisors rather than cabinet - now of course standard practice whether in tory Canada or New Labour UK.
Maggi's text re the sheep's head she ate at lunch in Nicosia: the eyeball was surprisingly tasty. J shudders and says he's glad he heard after he had finished eating.
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Monday, January 18/2010
Umbrella day. The worst of rain in Cyprus - or Larnaca at least - is that there is nowhere for the rain to go except in sheets down the pavements and deep puddles at the corners. The country is chronically short of water but a shocking amount of the rainfall is simply taken down to the sea in the storm sewers. The problem is coompounded by Cypriot drivers, many of whom are pedestrian blind and feel compelled to race up to the intersection spraying widely before waiting for a light to change. So a ten block walk is a minor obstacle course, dodging gutter hoses jetting onto the sidewalks, jumping metre wide puddles and aiming for the least flooded paving stone in a passage. A fair workout.
Monday, 18 January 2010
Sunday, January 17/2010
Warm, but windy and sunless. With the weather report the explanation emerges - the sky is full of dust blown north from the Sahara Desert, so the sun is mostly invisible - occasionaly seen in faint outline - and those with breathing difficulties are told to stay inside.
Saturday, January 16/2010
Meet M&M at the market for coffee. It rained a little in the night, so the chairs need a wipe down, but it's sun and warmth now. And all the colour of market stalls. We only need eggs - seldom bought more than 6 at a time here, as they should be fresh. We wait our turn for the eggs, watching as the green olives in a bucket are mixed with slivers of garlic, oil and lemon juice. J manages to get one to taste before the lot are scooped into a plastic bag for the enthusiastic purchaser. It's hard to walk past the fresh fruit and vegetables and herbs without discovering things that we need - so broccoli spears and carrots by the time we leave - though we're passing everything from shiny blue-black aubergines to an enormous round of halvah.
Meet Berndt and Britta on the way back. They're now happily ensconced in the remodelled - and repriced - Eleonora. Britta speaks no English, but her fingers quickly simulate bugs crawling as Berndt remembers that he last saw us as we were looking for an alternative after our disastrous introduction to the Frangiorgio. We say we like the Kition, but then everyone sighs as we think of it's being torn down.
Meet Berndt and Britta on the way back. They're now happily ensconced in the remodelled - and repriced - Eleonora. Britta speaks no English, but her fingers quickly simulate bugs crawling as Berndt remembers that he last saw us as we were looking for an alternative after our disastrous introduction to the Frangiorgio. We say we like the Kition, but then everyone sighs as we think of it's being torn down.
Saturday, 16 January 2010
Friday, January 15/2010
Stop at MTN, the mobile phone place to buy a €10 top up card. Referred by person A to person B and then back again. Much shuffling about, rifling through desk drawers, etc. Small red metal box containing cards opened with key, then abandoned for search of back room. return to re-examine contents of red box. Finally I receive a card - which turns out to be a €20 top up. I point out the error. Don't worry about it, he says.
Maggi texts at noon to say they're driving up to Pyla, the mixed Greek and Turkish village just south of the border to have an Efes (Turkish beer) - would we like to come? So out along the dhekelia Road and north, then inland, to Pyla. On a whim, Maggi suggests we leave the car at the border and walk over to the Turkish village on the other side. There we stop on the main street and share two Efes, as men help us find chairs at the little plastic outdoor table. The sun makes a weak appearance, so it's just warm enough. Maggi buys six Efes to take back and J has a brief chat with a man selling sacks of potatoes by a huge fragrant rose bush. Does he think things will be better now with the Greeks? He does, but doesn't have the vocabulary to elaborate. At the border M compliments the young Turkish officer on his aftershave, to his embarrassment, and we tease her about having discovered a technique for bringing things through customs.
Maggi texts at noon to say they're driving up to Pyla, the mixed Greek and Turkish village just south of the border to have an Efes (Turkish beer) - would we like to come? So out along the dhekelia Road and north, then inland, to Pyla. On a whim, Maggi suggests we leave the car at the border and walk over to the Turkish village on the other side. There we stop on the main street and share two Efes, as men help us find chairs at the little plastic outdoor table. The sun makes a weak appearance, so it's just warm enough. Maggi buys six Efes to take back and J has a brief chat with a man selling sacks of potatoes by a huge fragrant rose bush. Does he think things will be better now with the Greeks? He does, but doesn't have the vocabulary to elaborate. At the border M compliments the young Turkish officer on his aftershave, to his embarrassment, and we tease her about having discovered a technique for bringing things through customs.
Friday, 15 January 2010
Thursday, January 14/2010
The day starts with rain and before my eyes are open I can hear that the cars on the streets are driving through puddles. It continues intermittently through the day, though it's not cold. M&M stop fo tea on their way out for groceries.
Wednesday, January 13/2010
Wake to news of Haiti's earthquake - and like the tsunami of five years ago, the news only gets more horrific as the day goes on.
Pick up the price sheet on mobile phone charges. The cost of sending a text is 2 cents EU (or 3 cents Canadian) - more or less nothing, on the basic pay as you go card. And nothing at all, of course, to receive texts. Canadians overpay so badly.
Notice on the dubai chanel advising watchers that it is time for Dhur Prayer - one of the five prayers of the Moslem day, regulated by the sun. There is, however, no prayerful break in regular programming, which continues as usual, diverting the faithful. J says this is a shift from their earlier practice of providing Moslem prayer interludes.
Pick up the price sheet on mobile phone charges. The cost of sending a text is 2 cents EU (or 3 cents Canadian) - more or less nothing, on the basic pay as you go card. And nothing at all, of course, to receive texts. Canadians overpay so badly.
Notice on the dubai chanel advising watchers that it is time for Dhur Prayer - one of the five prayers of the Moslem day, regulated by the sun. There is, however, no prayerful break in regular programming, which continues as usual, diverting the faithful. J says this is a shift from their earlier practice of providing Moslem prayer interludes.
Tuesday, January 12/2010
Walk down to Smart, Elomas and Carrefour, starting off past the huge Nicolaides City building that was under construction all last winter. It's finished now, but not very full. J peeks in and says that the ground floor offices don't seem very populated. Certainly there is no sign at all of occupation on most of the higher storeys - 12 plus a penthouse above the ground floor. Is it a symbol of a breaking construction bubble?
Elomas has had less and less of interest as it has moved increasingly to frozen food, but we see a new acquisition - bottles of Spanish wine at €1.19 ($1.80 CAD, £1.10 GBP). Later proves to be young and undistinguished, but perfectly drinkable.
Elomas has had less and less of interest as it has moved increasingly to frozen food, but we see a new acquisition - bottles of Spanish wine at €1.19 ($1.80 CAD, £1.10 GBP). Later proves to be young and undistinguished, but perfectly drinkable.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
Monday, January 11/2010
J observes the body language as the traffic police pull overlocal motorists in presumably random road checks - smiles, handshakes, pats on the arm, chit chat. It's no wonder that tickets go disproportionately to the tourists.
The weather forecast for tomorrow shows some clouding over with possible showers in parts of the island, which could probably use the rainfall as water reserves are a perennial problem here. BBC's international weather map shows the same predicted high for Winnipeg and Atlanta tomorrow - three degrees.
Pride and Prejudice finished. Our copy made rather difficult reading as it had been previously owned by a student of diligent habits but no especial insight. Thus each page features much underlining as well as extensive highlighting in a variety of garish colours, some of them remarkably difficult to read through. All this accoompanied by the most obvious of commentary in a childishly rounded hand. Not, unfortunately, a book in good enough shape to donate to the charity shop.
The weather forecast for tomorrow shows some clouding over with possible showers in parts of the island, which could probably use the rainfall as water reserves are a perennial problem here. BBC's international weather map shows the same predicted high for Winnipeg and Atlanta tomorrow - three degrees.
Pride and Prejudice finished. Our copy made rather difficult reading as it had been previously owned by a student of diligent habits but no especial insight. Thus each page features much underlining as well as extensive highlighting in a variety of garish colours, some of them remarkably difficult to read through. All this accoompanied by the most obvious of commentary in a childishly rounded hand. Not, unfortunately, a book in good enough shape to donate to the charity shop.
Monday, 11 January 2010
Sunday, January 10/2010
Katy's birthday. The only downside to winter travel is how far away we are from family - but the grandchildren live in three different directions and the nearest of them 600 miles away, so visits would never be winter anyway.
Sunday treats of brunch with the Cypriot smoked tenderloin best done by J's favourite butcher - no doubt all the health hazards of any cured meat, but a little of this carries a lot of flavour. And the Sunday Cyprus Mail, complete with radio and telly guide and puzzles - though J grumbles that the actual content is pretty thin.
Sunday treats of brunch with the Cypriot smoked tenderloin best done by J's favourite butcher - no doubt all the health hazards of any cured meat, but a little of this carries a lot of flavour. And the Sunday Cyprus Mail, complete with radio and telly guide and puzzles - though J grumbles that the actual content is pretty thin.
Saturday, January 9/2010
Market day and unseasonably warm - but we meet a bit early for beer. there is a treat in store though, as Maggi invites us back for lunch - beautiful oven-cooked lamb which she collects from her favourite take-away spot. Leisurely lunch and then walk along the beach as far as the barrier where the airport land begins. The beach is much sandier here than the main beach in town - a proper holiday beach, but nearly deserted as it's off-season. In the distance we can see the little dragon-shaped fishing boats. Above, planes take offf from the airport and we try to identify the airlines. Then walk home along the seafront.
Saturday, 9 January 2010
Friday, January 8/2010
Second day of the traffic police making themselves important on the main thoroughfare outside with much whistling and waving. Not entirely clear what the objective is as motorists are pulled over - checking papers? What they're not doing is worrying about illegal mufflers or excessive noise, so when we watch films whole snatches of dialogue disappear, victims of the motorcycle cowboys, leaving us sorry we're no good at reading the Greek subtitles.
Maggi and Magne stop ini the late afternoon with Ellen, the travel rep that was with us in Israel two years ago. She's been giving a talk on a forthcoming trip to Jordan. Some talk of ex-president Papadopoulos's still missing body. Ellen's teory is that the objective was ransome, and she cites a Balkan precedent involving a lawyer with some ties to P.
Maggi and Magne stop ini the late afternoon with Ellen, the travel rep that was with us in Israel two years ago. She's been giving a talk on a forthcoming trip to Jordan. Some talk of ex-president Papadopoulos's still missing body. Ellen's teory is that the objective was ransome, and she cites a Balkan precedent involving a lawyer with some ties to P.
Friday, 8 January 2010
Thursday, January 7/2010
End of the holidays and back to ordinary time. Another warm and sunny day, as we awake to news of closures and cancellations due to snow all over Europe.
J sautés the nicest salmon fillet I've ever tasted for dinner. We have it with mushrooms, bulgur pilaf and a salad, juggling the timing around Lost in Austen, the four part serial based on interaction between the characters of Pride and Prejudice and a girl from present day London. In honour of which we are reading Pride and Prejudice aloud - though the television serial is progressing faster than our reading.
J sautés the nicest salmon fillet I've ever tasted for dinner. We have it with mushrooms, bulgur pilaf and a salad, juggling the timing around Lost in Austen, the four part serial based on interaction between the characters of Pride and Prejudice and a girl from present day London. In honour of which we are reading Pride and Prejudice aloud - though the television serial is progressing faster than our reading.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Wednesday, January 6/2010
Epiphany. The holiday begins gloriously sunny. When we wake up it's 13 in the shade but by mid-morning when we go down to the beach for the festivities it's hot - we check the little travel thermometer from our spot in the full sun by the petunias opposite the end of the pier. Forty-two in the sun - over 107 Fahrenheit!
The focal point is the parade. The red-coated band is nice, and the gold-crowned archbishop impressive enough, but the militarism, from dozens of cadets to soldiers with fixed bayonets, seems distressingly incongruous. The parade moves, carryiing a sacred icon, from St. Lazarus Church, traditionally considered to be the second burial place of the Biblical Lazarus, down to the pier, where the waters are blessed in commemoration of the baptism of Christ, and a cross is thrown in the water for the young men to dive and retrieve. It's prudently attached to a string lest they miss it in the sand. Maggi laughs and says "Oh ye of little faith."
We meet up with M&M and Maggi and I gather some of the aromatic eucalyptus-like leaves that have been strewn on the pier to take them home. Then we wander along the front, enjoying the crowd - children with ice cream or candy floss and animal-shaped balloons, stalls selling sweets or jewellery and toys, tourists and local families in carnival mode.
Back to our place for lunch. We're ready for cold beer and have some meze style snacks. Our holiday meal.
The focal point is the parade. The red-coated band is nice, and the gold-crowned archbishop impressive enough, but the militarism, from dozens of cadets to soldiers with fixed bayonets, seems distressingly incongruous. The parade moves, carryiing a sacred icon, from St. Lazarus Church, traditionally considered to be the second burial place of the Biblical Lazarus, down to the pier, where the waters are blessed in commemoration of the baptism of Christ, and a cross is thrown in the water for the young men to dive and retrieve. It's prudently attached to a string lest they miss it in the sand. Maggi laughs and says "Oh ye of little faith."
We meet up with M&M and Maggi and I gather some of the aromatic eucalyptus-like leaves that have been strewn on the pier to take them home. Then we wander along the front, enjoying the crowd - children with ice cream or candy floss and animal-shaped balloons, stalls selling sweets or jewellery and toys, tourists and local families in carnival mode.
Back to our place for lunch. We're ready for cold beer and have some meze style snacks. Our holiday meal.
Tuesday, January 5/2010
Maggi texts in the morning to see if we want to go to Livadia (Larnaca suburb) as they're on a grocery trip, so we go along for the ride. From the car we spot a forklift hoisting new mattresses to the first floor of the Frangiorgio hotel Apts, where they are being taken in from a balcony. A nice replacement at the scene of last year's beetle infestation.
Interesting linguistic point above. I note I have said the mattresses were hoisted to the first floor. In Europe (UK included here) the floor you enter from the street is the ground floor and the one above it the first. An occasional disappointment to North Americans who think they have only 3 storeys to trudge up and find they have four. As with many other usages, though, it seems we adjust without thinking about it. Or not, on occasion. There was the time that J, looking at a Cypriot street, said that the pavement was new and I, looking down at the sidewalk (British English read pavement) said I didn't think so - there were weeds growing in the cracks.
The end of the Christmas season, as tomorrow is Epiphany, a major holiday here. So our homemade decorations will be coming down, along with the public decorations and those in shop windows, some of which are very nice. And interesting, from a North American viewpoint. There is some use of red and green, but much more of gold or ivory and gold - much classier. And St. Nicholas/Father Christmas/Santa Claus is often clad in gold, occasionally in other colours like blue, and is not necessarily rotund. Leading to the somewhat annoying realisation that the common western stereotypical Santa image owes its origin to Coca Cola advertisements and not to any more historical tradition.
And as I walk home with the eggs, crossing the parking lot behind the market place, I see a Santa Claus in a wheelchair. He's nearly life-sized and red-suited, being wheeled across the lot in a red satin covered armchair on four small wheels. Off-stage now for the season.
Interesting linguistic point above. I note I have said the mattresses were hoisted to the first floor. In Europe (UK included here) the floor you enter from the street is the ground floor and the one above it the first. An occasional disappointment to North Americans who think they have only 3 storeys to trudge up and find they have four. As with many other usages, though, it seems we adjust without thinking about it. Or not, on occasion. There was the time that J, looking at a Cypriot street, said that the pavement was new and I, looking down at the sidewalk (British English read pavement) said I didn't think so - there were weeds growing in the cracks.
The end of the Christmas season, as tomorrow is Epiphany, a major holiday here. So our homemade decorations will be coming down, along with the public decorations and those in shop windows, some of which are very nice. And interesting, from a North American viewpoint. There is some use of red and green, but much more of gold or ivory and gold - much classier. And St. Nicholas/Father Christmas/Santa Claus is often clad in gold, occasionally in other colours like blue, and is not necessarily rotund. Leading to the somewhat annoying realisation that the common western stereotypical Santa image owes its origin to Coca Cola advertisements and not to any more historical tradition.
And as I walk home with the eggs, crossing the parking lot behind the market place, I see a Santa Claus in a wheelchair. He's nearly life-sized and red-suited, being wheeled across the lot in a red satin covered armchair on four small wheels. Off-stage now for the season.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Monday, January 4/2010
The Dubai chanel much taken up with the grand opening of the new Burj - tallest building in the world by far at 828 m (the exact height having been kept a secret until the final moment). The tone of the commentary is incredibly self-congratulatory and utterly untempered by any suggestion that the sands on which it is built mayhave shifted with the financial winds. Worse than the threat of fiscal bankruptcy is the moral bankruptcy that underlies the whole state. Much of Dubai's construction has been achieved at the expense of virtual slave labour provided by men from countries like Pakistan who leave their families, pay to acquire jobs, and live in work camps, often going without the pay they were promised and unable to afford the fare home without it. All this to provide an obscenely luxurious tax free haven in the midst of a region that includes the very poor. It's hard to look at the new tower as anything other than a monument to vanity - tempting the fates of fire and disaster. A tower of Babel?
Monday, 4 January 2010
Sunday, January 3/2010
Warm enough that we're pleased to take the shady side of the street coming home from Mass. Not everywhere, though. BBC World's weather map (never its best offering) shows 2 weather spots in Canada, one of which is Winnipeg, with -25 forecast for Tuesday. And then we see clips of Beijing where snow has filled the streets and halted flights - very haard to imagine for anyone who remembers sweltering in China.
Saturday, January 2/2010
An odd sort of day - middle of a four day weekend for some purposes and ordinary Saturday for others. The shop where we intend to buy eggs is closed - so one each tomorrow - but J's favourite butcher shop is open, the doorways heavily hung with sausages and the air heavy with their lovely smoky aroma. As I walk in, my hair brushes against some cured meat hanging in the entry - and how many others have done the same? We buy a smoked pork fillet - much nicer (though more expensive) than the supermarket ones.
Only one market stall is open, and reasonably busy, so we get bananas, mushrooms and courgettes. Text from Maggi asking where we are. At themarket - does she want coffee: So we meet at our regular cafe - but it's sunny and quite warm, so we opt to split a large (66 cl) abeer 3 ways instead of coffee.
Midafternoon M texts again to say that she hasn't seen Magne for hours, actually since morning, and has checked his usual haunts as well as the promenade - twice. she waits until four and then, with darkness coming on, goes to the police station, kitty-corner to us. Somewhat to our surprise, the police are quite good about it, checking the hospitals for accident victims and having the regular patrols keep an eye out. And it pays off when, a couple of hours later, the policee return him home, apparently after his discovery in a cafe near St. Lazarus. Maggi says the police were "kind and efficient." Interestingly, their weakness as a force is also their strength. Because they are relational rather than official, they are reluctant to deal with driving infractions when they may end up prosecuting friends of friends, and thus we all suffer from cowboy drivers with illegal mufflers and there is a shocking rate of road death. On the other hand, they seem able to take quite a familial approach to an elderly man gone astray, and all ends well.
Only one market stall is open, and reasonably busy, so we get bananas, mushrooms and courgettes. Text from Maggi asking where we are. At themarket - does she want coffee: So we meet at our regular cafe - but it's sunny and quite warm, so we opt to split a large (66 cl) abeer 3 ways instead of coffee.
Midafternoon M texts again to say that she hasn't seen Magne for hours, actually since morning, and has checked his usual haunts as well as the promenade - twice. she waits until four and then, with darkness coming on, goes to the police station, kitty-corner to us. Somewhat to our surprise, the police are quite good about it, checking the hospitals for accident victims and having the regular patrols keep an eye out. And it pays off when, a couple of hours later, the policee return him home, apparently after his discovery in a cafe near St. Lazarus. Maggi says the police were "kind and efficient." Interestingly, their weakness as a force is also their strength. Because they are relational rather than official, they are reluctant to deal with driving infractions when they may end up prosecuting friends of friends, and thus we all suffer from cowboy drivers with illegal mufflers and there is a shocking rate of road death. On the other hand, they seem able to take quite a familial approach to an elderly man gone astray, and all ends well.
Friday, January 1/2010
Stunningly lovely day - the thermometer reads 18 in the shade but it's clearly much warmer in the sun, and there's plenty of sun and mild breeze. We walk out to M&M's along the promenade and past the old fort and the restaurants. Militzi'as crowded as one would expect and doing a brisk business, the outside tables crowded with families out for New Year's lunch.
We're out for lunch ourselves, and Maggi's made a lovely one, starting with Parma ham and melon and moving through Stroganoff to creme brulee. Beautiful way to start 2010 with friends. Check out the view from their roof, which is amazing, out over the bay. And we remember living at the Athene watching the shifting colours of the sea and listening to the waves at night.
We're out for lunch ourselves, and Maggi's made a lovely one, starting with Parma ham and melon and moving through Stroganoff to creme brulee. Beautiful way to start 2010 with friends. Check out the view from their roof, which is amazing, out over the bay. And we remember living at the Athene watching the shifting colours of the sea and listening to the waves at night.
Thursday, December 31/2009
New Year's Eve. A day in which regular activities don't so much finish early as drift into celebration. There's a market on, but a rather smaller version of the regular Saturday market, with some of the larger stalls missing. We meet M&M at our usual coffee spot, actually rather behind the cafe and a bit littered, but deliciously warm in the sun.
By the time we go home, about noon, some businesses have begun their traditional New Year's Eve barbecues, once upon a time events that were open to customers and passers by alike. We pass a long cypriot style barbecue - rectangular trough with a dozen spits durning a row of browning birds, surrounded by employees on the street corner.
The main New Year's Eve celebrations are at the north end of the beach, the stage on Europa Square only a block away from us. We wait until about half past eleen and head over to joiin the crowd. There are singers on stage and a sound system designed to cause hearing impairment. We thread through the crowd lookiing for the booths belonging to the breweries and wine companies, which dispense beer and wine in plastic cups, ignoring the tables with pretty picked over plates ofnuts. As always, the beer and wine are free - though the wine is a prett young domestic - and there's absolutely no sign of drunkenness. In fact large numbers of people, the majority probably, are not drinking at all, and some are drinking soft drinks.
It's a very mixed crowd - predominantly young adults but also old people, children, and quite a lot of babies, some of them fast asleep. There are a surprisiingly hign number of Moslems - many families with young mothers in hijabs, babies in pushchairs and small children in tow. some revellers have clearly come directly from indoor parties and we're passed by a sparkler of young women, one a girl in a short black off the shoulder sequinned dress - fetching, but probably freezing. We ourselves have bundled up warmly for temperatures probably in te low teens. We sit on a bench on the promenade watching the throng - some tourists, some local, probably disproportionately resident foreigners.
The birds are uneasy about disturbed roosting, and as they flit past we hear the first of the New Year in the deep tones of the horn of the ship anchored in the bay. Then the sky is alive with fireworks and we watch, standing on the beach. As they finish, J points to the sky where first one and then a second small fire-lifted hot air balloon drifts through the dark sky and out to sea - Thai style balloons like the ones we ourselves sent off last year in Chiang Mai, little skyward signs of human hope. As we leave the beach we pass a stack of empty sparkling wine bottles, neatly stacked for disposal by peaceful celebrators. Avoid stepping on a small white dog out on his lead and a bit overwhelmed by the festivities. Ahead of us are two seventyish couples, the women doing a few jive steps together as they leave. They turn out to be Scandinavian residents of our hotel, and we wait while the tiny lift takes them up first. Then home for us. It's 2010.
By the time we go home, about noon, some businesses have begun their traditional New Year's Eve barbecues, once upon a time events that were open to customers and passers by alike. We pass a long cypriot style barbecue - rectangular trough with a dozen spits durning a row of browning birds, surrounded by employees on the street corner.
The main New Year's Eve celebrations are at the north end of the beach, the stage on Europa Square only a block away from us. We wait until about half past eleen and head over to joiin the crowd. There are singers on stage and a sound system designed to cause hearing impairment. We thread through the crowd lookiing for the booths belonging to the breweries and wine companies, which dispense beer and wine in plastic cups, ignoring the tables with pretty picked over plates ofnuts. As always, the beer and wine are free - though the wine is a prett young domestic - and there's absolutely no sign of drunkenness. In fact large numbers of people, the majority probably, are not drinking at all, and some are drinking soft drinks.
It's a very mixed crowd - predominantly young adults but also old people, children, and quite a lot of babies, some of them fast asleep. There are a surprisiingly hign number of Moslems - many families with young mothers in hijabs, babies in pushchairs and small children in tow. some revellers have clearly come directly from indoor parties and we're passed by a sparkler of young women, one a girl in a short black off the shoulder sequinned dress - fetching, but probably freezing. We ourselves have bundled up warmly for temperatures probably in te low teens. We sit on a bench on the promenade watching the throng - some tourists, some local, probably disproportionately resident foreigners.
The birds are uneasy about disturbed roosting, and as they flit past we hear the first of the New Year in the deep tones of the horn of the ship anchored in the bay. Then the sky is alive with fireworks and we watch, standing on the beach. As they finish, J points to the sky where first one and then a second small fire-lifted hot air balloon drifts through the dark sky and out to sea - Thai style balloons like the ones we ourselves sent off last year in Chiang Mai, little skyward signs of human hope. As we leave the beach we pass a stack of empty sparkling wine bottles, neatly stacked for disposal by peaceful celebrators. Avoid stepping on a small white dog out on his lead and a bit overwhelmed by the festivities. Ahead of us are two seventyish couples, the women doing a few jive steps together as they leave. They turn out to be Scandinavian residents of our hotel, and we wait while the tiny lift takes them up first. Then home for us. It's 2010.
Wednesday, December 30/2009
Last day of regular business before the New Year's shut down and frenzied activity at the supermarkets. Last day at student internet too before 4 day holiday. Steady stream there of genuine students, free of classes now, mostly engaged in highly unacedemic pursuits. Games are forbidden on these computers but the tell-tale sound effects are unjistakeable. There is a censorship system installed which works rather unpredictably. Maggi reports that it denies access to OANDA's foreign currency exchange site, and I struggle to remember whether one can use the site for speculation as well as information. More annoyingly, the Globe and Mail's website is verboten. The reason given is that it is, or may be, a sports site. Of course it does, like any newspaper, have a sports section, but that's scarcely a defining feature of what is, arguably, Canada's most serious newspaper. But no point in arguing with a computer - or in this case with computer centre staff.
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Tuesday, December 29/2009
Christmas season wine and liquor sales still on, so while I go to the internet J walks over to Orphanides supermarket to stock up on our favourite of the local vins tres ordinaires, the ones that come in litre boxes - unexciting but perfectly drinkable, and, at the moment, going for 1.39 EU a litre (2.10 CAD or 1.54 GBP). We travel now with "the sticks" - small pieces of wooden dowling that enable one to hang the plastic grocery bags from them, thus grasping the dowels like handles instead of having the bags cut into one's fingers. A handy trick we learned a few years ago from Jim McGill.
We're reading Ingenious Pain, an astonishingly good first novel by Andrew Miller, set in the mid-18th century in England and Europe - rich enough it can only be read in moderate sized chunks. The reviewers have scarcely been able to find enough superlatives - "A true rarity: a debut novel which is original, memorable, engrossing and subtle" (the Guardian).
the evening news in English opens with a story about a Limassol taverna owner being killed by a car bomb. The interesting thing is that I do not immediately reach for my notebook. Car bomb killings, while not exactly common, are not unusual enough to excite much interest either. They are always related to underworld rivalries or - less frequently - family feuds - in other words nothing that would ever, except by the worst of bad luck, have affected a Cypriot family or foreign tourist innocently going about their business. All the same, it is an interesting cultural commentary. A car bomb is the essence of premeditated crime and doesn't seem to fall in the unthinkable category here. When did we last hear of one in Canada, or even in London?
We're reading Ingenious Pain, an astonishingly good first novel by Andrew Miller, set in the mid-18th century in England and Europe - rich enough it can only be read in moderate sized chunks. The reviewers have scarcely been able to find enough superlatives - "A true rarity: a debut novel which is original, memorable, engrossing and subtle" (the Guardian).
the evening news in English opens with a story about a Limassol taverna owner being killed by a car bomb. The interesting thing is that I do not immediately reach for my notebook. Car bomb killings, while not exactly common, are not unusual enough to excite much interest either. They are always related to underworld rivalries or - less frequently - family feuds - in other words nothing that would ever, except by the worst of bad luck, have affected a Cypriot family or foreign tourist innocently going about their business. All the same, it is an interesting cultural commentary. A car bomb is the essence of premeditated crime and doesn't seem to fall in the unthinkable category here. When did we last hear of one in Canada, or even in London?
Monday, December 28/2009
M&M stop by after their trip to Malta - good weather and hotel and the little buses running even on christmas Day. We have tea and catch up on the news. Maggi lends us a little booklet of tributes to Lydia by various church people which, she points out, says repeatedly, that L washed a great many church dishes.
Monday, 28 December 2009
Sunday, December 27/2009
Sunny, warm (21) and the town coming to life after two days' holiday. The supermarkets open again - smaller shops hit and miss. We come home past the bakery with a fresh loaf of the sesame studded dense rye bread that we love. Surprisingly, the barber shop on the next block is open - a shave in progress - but the "Hair Saloon" further along is shut. Until recently hair salon opening times were regulated by law - they all remained closed on a Thursday.
One of the happiest things about living in Cyprus is the provision of BBC radio - BBC World and periods of BBC 4 and 5 - by the British forces. The other places we could get this - Iraq, Afghanistan, the Falklands - are not nearly so inviting. There's Gibralter, but it's prett expensive. So we listen to a panel of foreign assignment reporters discussing their profession. Alan Johnston provides a particularly nice explanation of journalistic objectivity. If a reporter were to go into a abar and hear a fierce argument as to whether two and two make four, claimed by one, or six, as another insisted, the proper course would not be to assume that the truth was in the middle but to look for corroborating evidence. All the same, BBC reporters and others, do sometimes get caught accepting the frame of reference provied by one side or the other. Thus the optimistic "coalition" provided by the US and UK in the Iraq invasion suggested a much wider backing than had in fact been achieved, as well as having the happy connotation of "allies." US-UK, especially if pronounced U-suck - would have had a quite different effect.
One of the happiest things about living in Cyprus is the provision of BBC radio - BBC World and periods of BBC 4 and 5 - by the British forces. The other places we could get this - Iraq, Afghanistan, the Falklands - are not nearly so inviting. There's Gibralter, but it's prett expensive. So we listen to a panel of foreign assignment reporters discussing their profession. Alan Johnston provides a particularly nice explanation of journalistic objectivity. If a reporter were to go into a abar and hear a fierce argument as to whether two and two make four, claimed by one, or six, as another insisted, the proper course would not be to assume that the truth was in the middle but to look for corroborating evidence. All the same, BBC reporters and others, do sometimes get caught accepting the frame of reference provied by one side or the other. Thus the optimistic "coalition" provided by the US and UK in the Iraq invasion suggested a much wider backing than had in fact been achieved, as well as having the happy connotation of "allies." US-UK, especially if pronounced U-suck - would have had a quite different effect.
Saturday, December 26/2009
It's twenty years since the first Christmas we spent together, and this is our tenth Christmas in cyprus. There's sun when we wake up, but by eight o'clock the sky is overcast. Shops are open on a hit and miss basis, and there's no market, presumably because there was one Christmas Eve. Good leftovers though.
Friday, December 25/2009
Awake early and it's sunny. Christmas mass is full, though probably not as full as midnight mass last night. The nativity scene - a large, sprawling amalgam of several crib sets of differing scales, which somehow works - has been moved to a front corner. Is this to keep the cattle out of the hands ofthe small boy who used to take them to play with during mass? The usual enthusiastic Philippino choir, and the standard Christmas carols with a slight twist. The Philippino pronunciation never quite anticipates slurred joining of syllables - as in "th'incarnate deity" - leading to lines of music ending before all of the words have been fitted in. However, a line with "Emanuel" in it has the opposite problem. Every Philippino knows that this is three syllables, pronounced Spanish style as "E-Manuel" - thus the words finish before the melody. But iti's all heart - and pretty good melody too.
Afternoon walk along the waterfront. What we first take to be the three ships of Christmas song at anchor turns out to be a single three masted ship broadside at a distance. Some families and tourists, but fewer than most years. The man roasting chestnuts and corn on the cob to order is doing business, but an elaborate toy display attracts little attention. The crowds haven't moved to the square by the Eleonora, either. It has a giant christmas tree sheltering a large and remarkably ugly nativity scene - still always a creche to the Quebecker in me, but that's not a usage the Anglo world seems to recognise. But no crowds, no people at all.
J does a chicken whole in the large pot and makes very nice gravy, so a lovely little Christmas dinner a deux, with surprisingl good cabernet. Followed by Love, Actually on the Dubai chanel. I've seen it before, though J says he hasn't, but I'm a Hugh Grant fan. Interesting ads accompanying it, Middle East style: garnier cream makes your skin two degrees lighter.
The other Christmas treat acquired yesterday at the charity shop across the back road is Alan Bennett's novella, The Uncommon Reader - just the right length for a little gem of a Christmas read.
Afternoon walk along the waterfront. What we first take to be the three ships of Christmas song at anchor turns out to be a single three masted ship broadside at a distance. Some families and tourists, but fewer than most years. The man roasting chestnuts and corn on the cob to order is doing business, but an elaborate toy display attracts little attention. The crowds haven't moved to the square by the Eleonora, either. It has a giant christmas tree sheltering a large and remarkably ugly nativity scene - still always a creche to the Quebecker in me, but that's not a usage the Anglo world seems to recognise. But no crowds, no people at all.
J does a chicken whole in the large pot and makes very nice gravy, so a lovely little Christmas dinner a deux, with surprisingl good cabernet. Followed by Love, Actually on the Dubai chanel. I've seen it before, though J says he hasn't, but I'm a Hugh Grant fan. Interesting ads accompanying it, Middle East style: garnier cream makes your skin two degrees lighter.
The other Christmas treat acquired yesterday at the charity shop across the back road is Alan Bennett's novella, The Uncommon Reader - just the right length for a little gem of a Christmas read.
Thursday, December 24/2009
The bakery and then the supermarket. Fr. Wilhelm comes along as I'm sitting on the wall outside, waiting for J, so kisses - and yes, we will go to Christmas mass. The store is busy, especially the butcher's counter, but the chickens are pre-wrapped, so it doesn't take us too long. Not a cranberry in sight though.
Five o'clock and we get the nine lessons and carols live from King's College Chapel, Cambridge, courtesy of BBC World radio. It's become our marker for the beginning of Christmas. Then, after supper, the Dubai television chanel brings Gone With the Wind, not Christmassy but full scale romantic and the first time I've actually watched it start to finish, though J says he has, once.
Five o'clock and we get the nine lessons and carols live from King's College Chapel, Cambridge, courtesy of BBC World radio. It's become our marker for the beginning of Christmas. Then, after supper, the Dubai television chanel brings Gone With the Wind, not Christmassy but full scale romantic and the first time I've actually watched it start to finish, though J says he has, once.
Wednesday, December 23/2009
J has the flat all decorated for Christmas - the few baubles we picked up at St. Helena's a few years back, the strings of new decorations he made out of candy foils, the modernistic outline tree of tinsel with tiny foil ornaments, the silver and fold wrapped candles. he's also taken a couple of christmas cards and made 3 dimensional pop-up cards decorated with coloured foil. so we're all ready except for buying the chicken tomorrow.
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Tuesday, December 22/2009
Very busy around the hotel as the cleaners prepare for new residents. They don't show up at our flat until after one and then only to take the rubbish and deliver toilet paper. Would have been a good time for clean floors as M&M are coming to dinner but it's a poor dinner party that focuses on the floor. In the interests of dinner, I head downstairs to try to scavenge a couple more coffee spoons as we seem to have only one, but on the way to the lift pass the manager pressed into service wheeling the cart of kitchen odds and ends from its usual hiding spot behind the stairs to a flat that's being cleaned. Not a good time for surreptitious acquisition.
So we dine with only one coffee spoon - but a beautiful leg of lamb with a mushroom wine sauce and little new potatoes. The lamb, surprisingly, is Irish, a whole leg whih the butcher has kindly cut in 2 so that it would fit in the pot. good company too. this is our pre-Christmas meal with M&M who are going to Malta for 4 days over Christmas.
So we dine with only one coffee spoon - but a beautiful leg of lamb with a mushroom wine sauce and little new potatoes. The lamb, surprisingly, is Irish, a whole leg whih the butcher has kindly cut in 2 so that it would fit in the pot. good company too. this is our pre-Christmas meal with M&M who are going to Malta for 4 days over Christmas.
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Monday, December 21/2009
The translations continue to provide entertainment. Thus the sign outside the Avenue Apartments, professionally produced, offers office and apartment space for rent "SHORTOIL LONG TERM". One can imagine a Greek speaker hearing the translation thus, but it's hard to think of him writing it down for the sign maker with no further confirmation.
Monday, 21 December 2009
Sunday, December 20/2009
Fourth Sunday in Advent but we're up a little late for our regular Church. Will have to check later for Christmas times. so begin the day lazily with the Sunday Mail, and bacon and eggs.
Down to the waterfront in the afternoon. We're expecting the customary crowded promenade with touriss and local families out for a Sunday walk, cotton candy and ice creams and balloons everywhere and the cafes spilling out onto the pavement. there are some tourists and a few locals, a scattering of balloons and the odd ice cream, but the numbers are small and the cafes not full. What's happened? the chairs are still set up in front of the beach stage, so there will have been a concert this morning, but there aren't many booths and they're not busy.
We stop to look at the Athene - our old home of 3,4, and 5 years ago. It's been under construction for 3 years now, ever since we moved out. It's been resold and is now boasting six full floor flats for sale. They'd be huge, each comprising a previous four flats plus some hall space, and the view is stunning from the higher ones, but there hasn't been much progress. The building is still totally gutted, the floors open to the elements. Since we're close, we take a quick look at the Augusta. The views are good there, but it's not, as we knew, cheap. One bedrooms 900EU - studios 800EU and 850EU.
At 6:30 there is the nine lessons and carols at St. Helena's. We neet M&M there, Maggi bearing a sample of fruit from Chris's orchard. the parish is between priests and has a "resident locum", Rev. rajinder Daniel, retired, late of India and now of Birmingham. He chats with us afterward upstairs where the parish is hosting its usual generous refreshments - mulled wine and sausage rolls and minced pies - a cheerful, open, cosmopolitan man.
Down to the waterfront in the afternoon. We're expecting the customary crowded promenade with touriss and local families out for a Sunday walk, cotton candy and ice creams and balloons everywhere and the cafes spilling out onto the pavement. there are some tourists and a few locals, a scattering of balloons and the odd ice cream, but the numbers are small and the cafes not full. What's happened? the chairs are still set up in front of the beach stage, so there will have been a concert this morning, but there aren't many booths and they're not busy.
We stop to look at the Athene - our old home of 3,4, and 5 years ago. It's been under construction for 3 years now, ever since we moved out. It's been resold and is now boasting six full floor flats for sale. They'd be huge, each comprising a previous four flats plus some hall space, and the view is stunning from the higher ones, but there hasn't been much progress. The building is still totally gutted, the floors open to the elements. Since we're close, we take a quick look at the Augusta. The views are good there, but it's not, as we knew, cheap. One bedrooms 900EU - studios 800EU and 850EU.
At 6:30 there is the nine lessons and carols at St. Helena's. We neet M&M there, Maggi bearing a sample of fruit from Chris's orchard. the parish is between priests and has a "resident locum", Rev. rajinder Daniel, retired, late of India and now of Birmingham. He chats with us afterward upstairs where the parish is hosting its usual generous refreshments - mulled wine and sausage rolls and minced pies - a cheerful, open, cosmopolitan man.
Saturday, December 19/2009
Market morning. Start with Cypriot coffee with M&M. Maggi full of spillover news forgotten at our Wednesday night meeting, including the sad news that our hotel, the Kition, is apparently to be demolished. Prices seem up a bit - or is it just our fading memories? Buy 6 eggs from the egg lady's daughter, as well as broccoli, tomatoes, mushrooms, tiny potatoes, carrots and a large bag of oranges (53 actually!), the last for a euro seventy.
Still stocking up with basic supplies as well as for christmas, we go shopping in the afternoon as well. First stop the Polski sklep (shop). J finds a bottle of black currant syrup - though he would rather have had cherry. Smart Store for liquor. Unfortunately the liquor sales are all in the lead up to Christmas and New Year, so we have to guess what we're likely to use in the next 3 months in order to take advantage of the special prices. So we acquire a litre of Famous Grouse whiskey for nine euros ninety (15.15 CAD or 8.80 GB) as well as a local apricot liqueur and a domestic liqueur intriguingly entitled Scotish Legend. The spelling makes it clear that it's no Highland import, but it's cheap enough that we buy it hoping for a palatable Drambuie knock off. No such luck. It turns out later to be an undistinguished but drinkable Cypriot brandy style drink. Mark down a litre bottle of vodka at 6 euros for later collection when we're not carrying so much.
Still stocking up with basic supplies as well as for christmas, we go shopping in the afternoon as well. First stop the Polski sklep (shop). J finds a bottle of black currant syrup - though he would rather have had cherry. Smart Store for liquor. Unfortunately the liquor sales are all in the lead up to Christmas and New Year, so we have to guess what we're likely to use in the next 3 months in order to take advantage of the special prices. So we acquire a litre of Famous Grouse whiskey for nine euros ninety (15.15 CAD or 8.80 GB) as well as a local apricot liqueur and a domestic liqueur intriguingly entitled Scotish Legend. The spelling makes it clear that it's no Highland import, but it's cheap enough that we buy it hoping for a palatable Drambuie knock off. No such luck. It turns out later to be an undistinguished but drinkable Cypriot brandy style drink. Mark down a litre bottle of vodka at 6 euros for later collection when we're not carrying so much.
Friday, December 18/2009
We're right across from the main post office which is extremely busy as I go in. Two women seated at a table furiously addressing christmas cards, chinese girls sending a huge parcel home to china, and the usual business at the wickets. Busy at the student internet as well. The computers have been upgraded and not yet ruined by the users - though one of the four isn't running. My half hour is enough to read the email and get a bit of the blog online. I also take a quick look at the cyprus Weekly, as we're quite behind in Cypriot news. The "Cyprus problem" seems, like the poor, to be always with us. There is startling news though. The body of former president Papadopoulis has been stolen by modern day grave robbers and the police forced to let their 3 suspects go as all had alibis. Only in cyprus.
Text from Jenny saying that London is snowy and we had left just in time. In fact the radio has cited snowfalls of up to 8 inches in the southeast part of England. she also says that tesco has reissued Doug's washed vouchers.
Text from Jenny saying that London is snowy and we had left just in time. In fact the radio has cited snowfalls of up to 8 inches in the southeast part of England. she also says that tesco has reissued Doug's washed vouchers.
Thursday, December 17/2009
the cleaners open up the store room and we find the rest of our 'stores' - one box having been deliverd to our room before we arrived. The microwave is there and the folding rack for drying clothes, as well as a large box tied with a bungee cord and full of surprises. Well, some we remember leaving - like the radio, the large pot and the metal toasting rack for the cooker burner, and our black coffee cups. But there are plenty of other things - the table cloth, our candelabra (menorah style and made of wrought iron, salvaged by J on the street one year), the greek dictionary and the homemade christmas decorations which J soon has untangled for stringing from the lamps and in the archway.
Over to the cah point which (unlike last night) is working and then to Metro supermarket to begin stocking up. The pre-Christmas liquor sales are on, so we treat ourselves to a celebratory bottle of local brandy. The girl who works at the bakery remembers us and finds one of her few English words - welcome. After lunch we go to the shops north of us - Smart for wine, Elomas for almonds, and Prinos for fruit - clementines, bananas, apples and a lemon - and vegetables - onions, broccoli, courgettes, aubergines, carrots, peppers and mushrooms. So home to make a curry. It's all right, but much too soon after Jean's for us to think it's really good.
Eleven fifty-two p.m. receive a text from Maggi, dater 6:30 a.m. today, suggesting we all go to dinner. Lost in some telephoic limbo, as she no doubt wondered at our rudeness.
Over to the cah point which (unlike last night) is working and then to Metro supermarket to begin stocking up. The pre-Christmas liquor sales are on, so we treat ourselves to a celebratory bottle of local brandy. The girl who works at the bakery remembers us and finds one of her few English words - welcome. After lunch we go to the shops north of us - Smart for wine, Elomas for almonds, and Prinos for fruit - clementines, bananas, apples and a lemon - and vegetables - onions, broccoli, courgettes, aubergines, carrots, peppers and mushrooms. So home to make a curry. It's all right, but much too soon after Jean's for us to think it's really good.
Eleven fifty-two p.m. receive a text from Maggi, dater 6:30 a.m. today, suggesting we all go to dinner. Lost in some telephoic limbo, as she no doubt wondered at our rudeness.
Wednesday, December 16/2009
Alarm at 3:30 and we're out before 4. It's cold - though no minus 40 - and there's frost on the windscreens. And I'm grateful for the heavy tights which I had considered leaving in winnipeg until susan and Ian started talking about the possibility of moving during the winter. Swiss cottage bus stop is a bit of a surprise. for one thing, it's not truly dark: as with all of London, street lights and other light pollution see to that. And plenty of people are up - twenty-four hour buses, but also cars, taxis, and pedestrians. It's not, as I feared it might be, scary. And the bus, when it comes, isn't empty. Ending the night shift or beginning the day, people are on the move.
We change at charing Crosss to the Heathrow bus, N9, so busy that at times it's standing room only. a few air passengers but mostly the early workforce heading out. arrive at Heahrow 5 at about six o'clock and it's still early enough to be pretty relaxed, despite the strike vote that may have the cabin crews out next week.
Calm flight with huge carnivore breakfast. Fall asleep over wine and newspapers. The flight isn't full so J and I each get 2 seats - very relaxed. Fly in over the mountains and villages, then up the coast, and land at the "new" Larnaca airport - bigger if not better. Through immigration almost quicker than I can get the passports out of their pouch, but the luggage is slow despite extra new and improved carousels. Taxi to the Kition where our old semi-penthouse (2 slides glass and balcony) is waiting.
Text Maggi and she and Magne arrive for a glass of wine - stored from last year, so vin de maison tres ordinaire, but now vintage. M full of news of local updates and the death of old Lydia, who wandered away from the home in which her daughters had placed her in Nicosia, lost her way in a field and was found dead 3 weeks later. Very sad
We change at charing Crosss to the Heathrow bus, N9, so busy that at times it's standing room only. a few air passengers but mostly the early workforce heading out. arrive at Heahrow 5 at about six o'clock and it's still early enough to be pretty relaxed, despite the strike vote that may have the cabin crews out next week.
Calm flight with huge carnivore breakfast. Fall asleep over wine and newspapers. The flight isn't full so J and I each get 2 seats - very relaxed. Fly in over the mountains and villages, then up the coast, and land at the "new" Larnaca airport - bigger if not better. Through immigration almost quicker than I can get the passports out of their pouch, but the luggage is slow despite extra new and improved carousels. Taxi to the Kition where our old semi-penthouse (2 slides glass and balcony) is waiting.
Text Maggi and she and Magne arrive for a glass of wine - stored from last year, so vin de maison tres ordinaire, but now vintage. M full of news of local updates and the death of old Lydia, who wandered away from the home in which her daughters had placed her in Nicosia, lost her way in a field and was found dead 3 weeks later. Very sad
Monday, December 14/2009
By train from Waterloo to Thames Ditton to see Jenny and Doug and the family. Jenn's mum is here and Doug and Emma, with Jasmine, now 11 months rather than the 3 months she was when we last saw her, round faced and happy, beginnin now to talk. Jenny comes back with the grandsons, Sam and Kai, collected from school, and cody, a week older than Jasmine and as interested in everything.
We have tea around their huge dining room table with salads and sausages and a large gammon and dundee cake and custard tarts. The babies are curious about the taste of everything. Laura and Nathan arrive back from Nathan's grandfather's funeral - and Cody immediately lifts his arms to be picked up by Laura, athough he's been content if sleepy with us.
The others are packed off home and Doug is dismayed to find he has left his wallet in the pocket of his trousers when he was persuaded to add them - at the last minute - to the wash. Predictable jokes about money laundering as he lays the contents out on a towel in front of the fire. The real loss, though, would appear to be several pounds worth of Tesco vouchers which have vanished. As we leave for the train he is examining the interior of the washing machine with a flashlight.
We have tea around their huge dining room table with salads and sausages and a large gammon and dundee cake and custard tarts. The babies are curious about the taste of everything. Laura and Nathan arrive back from Nathan's grandfather's funeral - and Cody immediately lifts his arms to be picked up by Laura, athough he's been content if sleepy with us.
The others are packed off home and Doug is dismayed to find he has left his wallet in the pocket of his trousers when he was persuaded to add them - at the last minute - to the wash. Predictable jokes about money laundering as he lays the contents out on a towel in front of the fire. The real loss, though, would appear to be several pounds worth of Tesco vouchers which have vanished. As we leave for the train he is examining the interior of the washing machine with a flashlight.
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Tuesday, December 15
Down to Canada House. British Air lets flyers choose seats 24 hours before take off, so we plan to check the email and use the computer to check in. But when we arrive the place is closed, more or less. The rates are shut but a whey-faced man comes out to ask what we want. "We're closed. Emergencies only." Two men collecting passports are allowed in. We ask why they're closed. "It's an emergency." Well, clearly the place isn't on fire. Unfortunately the mumbling about emergencies is fairly unconvincing - rather like the implausible excuses of old East European functionaries - but there's nothing to be done but head for an internet cafe. Fifty p later we've booked the seats and had a quick glance at the email at a cafe near Finchley Road Station.
Out to Jean's in the afternoon. The visit would have been Sunday but work on the lines would have meant two different replacement buses - awkward at night. We have a good chat and a lamb curry lunch. Jean's been very busy, mostly with a choir she belongs to that has just held its Christmas concert o Saturday evening. Short phone conversation with Jean's brother robert, who tells us that the temperature in Edmonton is minus 40 - with a windchill of minus 56!
On the way home (not that it is exactly) we stop at the travel centre at victoria Station to check the timing on the night bus toHeathrow. I'm hoping that we'll end up at a wicket staffed by a middle-aged man. They usually seem to know the timetables almost by heart and have a passion for detail and accuracy. We get a cavalier young chap with dreadlocks who says that the night bus takes "about 2 hours." We know this to be wildly inaccurate, which casts suspicion on the rest of his info - and is annoying as well. So through the queue again (going in the door past Dreadlocks who is now enjoying a smoke break). this time a middle-aged man who looks up the timing on a computer program and announces "73 minutes from Charing Cross."
Finish packing and set the alarms on both mobiles.
Out to Jean's in the afternoon. The visit would have been Sunday but work on the lines would have meant two different replacement buses - awkward at night. We have a good chat and a lamb curry lunch. Jean's been very busy, mostly with a choir she belongs to that has just held its Christmas concert o Saturday evening. Short phone conversation with Jean's brother robert, who tells us that the temperature in Edmonton is minus 40 - with a windchill of minus 56!
On the way home (not that it is exactly) we stop at the travel centre at victoria Station to check the timing on the night bus toHeathrow. I'm hoping that we'll end up at a wicket staffed by a middle-aged man. They usually seem to know the timetables almost by heart and have a passion for detail and accuracy. We get a cavalier young chap with dreadlocks who says that the night bus takes "about 2 hours." We know this to be wildly inaccurate, which casts suspicion on the rest of his info - and is annoying as well. So through the queue again (going in the door past Dreadlocks who is now enjoying a smoke break). this time a middle-aged man who looks up the timing on a computer program and announces "73 minutes from Charing Cross."
Finish packing and set the alarms on both mobiles.
Sunday, December 13/2009
Third Sunday of Advent. We head for Westminster Cathedral where the boys' choir is lovely as usual and we light the third candle on the Advent wreath. The parish Christmas bazaar follows and J scores a large beeswax candle from the Church candle ends on sale. A pound for the candle (J says they used to be much less) and another pound for 3 fat used paperbacks. They're 50p each, but the ladies, teetering between desire to raise more money and desire to sell all the books, say that they will sell 3 fiction books for a pound "if they're not the really big nice ones." Mine are quite big, but one (a Gabriel Garcia Marquez) is a bit water damaged they note, so the three are good for a pound. Pass up Edwina Currie's memoirs, presumably featuring her affair with John Major. Well it's not fiction anyway - is it?
A nice fat Sunday Times on the way home to go with yesterday's Saturday Guardian, not yet finished. It's a nippy day out, with a chill breeze and possible frost tonight - though not cold by Canadian standards!
A nice fat Sunday Times on the way home to go with yesterday's Saturday Guardian, not yet finished. It's a nippy day out, with a chill breeze and possible frost tonight - though not cold by Canadian standards!
Saturday, December 12/2009
Check out the options for leaving on tuesday. Heathrow Express is the only public transport possibility with any hope of getting to terminal 5 on time. The difficulty is getting to Paddington on time, and the extra distance to Termiinal 5. In the end we decide that a minicab would be as cheap and much simpler.
Over to Asda to get a top up for the mobile. Spot an ipod touch 32 gig for 227 pounds, tax included and refundable. We're planning on going downtown to admire the lights but acquire a cooked chicken and postpone our light tour.
Over to Asda to get a top up for the mobile. Spot an ipod touch 32 gig for 227 pounds, tax included and refundable. We're planning on going downtown to admire the lights but acquire a cooked chicken and postpone our light tour.
Friday, 18 December 2009
Friday, December 11/2009
London overground from West Hampstead to Hackney to Alexander and Flora's place where Dorothy is staying for Christmas. Off at Dalton and Kingsland and we walk south on Kingsland. It's rough and real in the way that Queensway used to be twenty years ago, shops spilling over into the street; fishmongers, butchers with whole chickens hanging, an outdoor market. Rather like Bethnal Green.
Alexander and Flora live in a square set back a couple of blocks west of Kingsland, a solid corner terrace house, formal and high-ceilinged on the ground flor (full of Alexander's pianos). Below stairs it's a different world, mostly enormous low-ceilinged kitchen with a long scrubbed wood table, all warmth and busyness. We have tea there and then leave A and F and their dogs and head up Kingsland.
The area is mainly Turkish, with turkish shops and signs. I recognise "eczane", the Turkish word for pharmacy, and we stop at another shop to look at Turkish spices. We're hoping to eat at a Turkish restaurant that flora has said is very good - a valuable opinion D points out, as F is a cordon bleu cook.
We stop first at a tiny pub which we share with the other non-Moslems on a street rather short on pubs. Most of the other drinkers are Caribbean in origin and clearly know each other, though they're friendly enough to us. I'm puzzled aby a sign on the door: PINTS ONLY SERVED DURING FOOTBALL MATCHES. But I want a pint now - why on earth should they object? Will I have to settle for a pint? But J returns with 2 pints of bitter and D's passion fruit drink (a request for soft drinks elicited a choice of orange, cranberry and mango, or passion fruit). The sign, of course, should read: ONLY PINTS SERVED DURING FOOTBALL MATCHES - a deterrent to cheap drinkers who might monopolise the telly.
There's intermittent entertainment from the Wurlitzer but lots of opportunity to talk in between. I get an old fashioned key for the loo (we keep it locked because of drugs - though J says the men's is open) but it's pretty peaceful, though not quiet. I step outside, pst the replica pages of newspaper featuring Edward VIII and Mrs. Simpson, to answer a phone call from Jean.
Dinner at Mangal, the award winning Turkish restaurant, is amazing, in quantity as well as quality. We've asked for the dinner for 2 to be made for 3, but needn't have, although it does give D a bag to take home. There is a basket of pita and 3 platters - large round ones of meze (after which we're moderately full) and salads, as well as a giant oval one with a variety of lamb, beef and chicken, rice and bulgur. Delicious. It's a good thing we were there by seven, because business is non-stop. There's rarely an empty table for more than a couple of minutes.
We walk D back and hop a bus to Liverpool Street station where we get the Metropolitan home.
Alexander and Flora live in a square set back a couple of blocks west of Kingsland, a solid corner terrace house, formal and high-ceilinged on the ground flor (full of Alexander's pianos). Below stairs it's a different world, mostly enormous low-ceilinged kitchen with a long scrubbed wood table, all warmth and busyness. We have tea there and then leave A and F and their dogs and head up Kingsland.
The area is mainly Turkish, with turkish shops and signs. I recognise "eczane", the Turkish word for pharmacy, and we stop at another shop to look at Turkish spices. We're hoping to eat at a Turkish restaurant that flora has said is very good - a valuable opinion D points out, as F is a cordon bleu cook.
We stop first at a tiny pub which we share with the other non-Moslems on a street rather short on pubs. Most of the other drinkers are Caribbean in origin and clearly know each other, though they're friendly enough to us. I'm puzzled aby a sign on the door: PINTS ONLY SERVED DURING FOOTBALL MATCHES. But I want a pint now - why on earth should they object? Will I have to settle for a pint? But J returns with 2 pints of bitter and D's passion fruit drink (a request for soft drinks elicited a choice of orange, cranberry and mango, or passion fruit). The sign, of course, should read: ONLY PINTS SERVED DURING FOOTBALL MATCHES - a deterrent to cheap drinkers who might monopolise the telly.
There's intermittent entertainment from the Wurlitzer but lots of opportunity to talk in between. I get an old fashioned key for the loo (we keep it locked because of drugs - though J says the men's is open) but it's pretty peaceful, though not quiet. I step outside, pst the replica pages of newspaper featuring Edward VIII and Mrs. Simpson, to answer a phone call from Jean.
Dinner at Mangal, the award winning Turkish restaurant, is amazing, in quantity as well as quality. We've asked for the dinner for 2 to be made for 3, but needn't have, although it does give D a bag to take home. There is a basket of pita and 3 platters - large round ones of meze (after which we're moderately full) and salads, as well as a giant oval one with a variety of lamb, beef and chicken, rice and bulgur. Delicious. It's a good thing we were there by seven, because business is non-stop. There's rarely an empty table for more than a couple of minutes.
We walk D back and hop a bus to Liverpool Street station where we get the Metropolitan home.
Thursday, December 10/2009
Wake at 9:30. True, it's 3:30 a.m. Canadian central time, but a shocking waste of London time. Over to the Welby office to ask for plates, etc., J having made do with a pot lid for his fish last night. One lawn sports a single metal crutch abandoned near the pavement. A nearby beer bottle may provide a partial explanation - but how did he get home?
Bus to Westminster Cathedral for Christmas cards, then to Trafalgar Square where we do the banking and stop at Canada House to check the email. British Air informs us that our country of destination wishes to have passport information. Emulating the Americans or admitting to their immigration problems? Then to Camden High Street and Inverness Street market. Iit's mild and the streets are full of life. Already growing dark before four, but Christmassy.
Dorothy calls in the evening and we arrange to meet tomorrow at Alexander and Flora's.
Bus to Westminster Cathedral for Christmas cards, then to Trafalgar Square where we do the banking and stop at Canada House to check the email. British Air informs us that our country of destination wishes to have passport information. Emulating the Americans or admitting to their immigration problems? Then to Camden High Street and Inverness Street market. Iit's mild and the streets are full of life. Already growing dark before four, but Christmassy.
Dorothy calls in the evening and we arrange to meet tomorrow at Alexander and Flora's.
Wednesday, December 9/2009
Wake not long after going to sleep it seems. Breakfast is a large, cold muffin which J declines. We fly in along the Thames, spotting the London Eye and other landmarks. Tube to Swiss Cottage. The lawns are bright green and not only the roses but even the fuschia are still blooming, as well as winter pansies and holly. No need for coats- light jackets are fine. We stash our things at the bedsit. They (the bedsits) are always an odd mixture of assets and non. On the pro side, there are plenty of pots, a microwave, and an iron (not that I intend to waste London time ironing), a clothes drying rack and (this is unprecedented) a toaster. And the place is very clean. But there's only one plate, no bowls, and one glass (though there are three mismatched cups).
So down to Sainsbury's to find something for dinner, and home with fresh fish, bread, tinned beans, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, clementines and peanut butter. But not the toilet paper, so we'll be heading back tomorrow. We'd thought of going out again in the evening as we're here for such a short time, but jetlag wins.
So down to Sainsbury's to find something for dinner, and home with fresh fish, bread, tinned beans, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, clementines and peanut butter. But not the toilet paper, so we'll be heading back tomorrow. We'd thought of going out again in the evening as we're here for such a short time, but jetlag wins.
Tuesday, December 8/2009
Phone Janet to say goodbye and she offers to take us to the airport so we can have a brief visit. She and Dave are just back from Mexico - in time for the deep freeze.
We're not together on the plane - J has the window seat behind mine - because of the late booking. So I have the pleasure of sitting next to a man who sneezes -twice- into his hand and then is all over the touch screen in front of him. We haven't remembered the headphones for ours. They do sell them on domestic flights (and give them away on international ones) but I've lost my enthusiasm.
Four hours wait in Toronto. There's a storm coming in but we're off before it arrives. Was that really -34 on the airport weather screen as Regina's temperature tomorrow?
Dinner close to midnight. Fortunately we'd taken cheese and ham sandwiches with us to eat in Toronto because the dinner is horrible. Probably the worst we've had on Air Canada. Chicken with dried out pasta protruding from a bland tomato sauce. And a salad combining peas with diced fruit that I can't identify.
We're not together on the plane - J has the window seat behind mine - because of the late booking. So I have the pleasure of sitting next to a man who sneezes -twice- into his hand and then is all over the touch screen in front of him. We haven't remembered the headphones for ours. They do sell them on domestic flights (and give them away on international ones) but I've lost my enthusiasm.
Four hours wait in Toronto. There's a storm coming in but we're off before it arrives. Was that really -34 on the airport weather screen as Regina's temperature tomorrow?
Dinner close to midnight. Fortunately we'd taken cheese and ham sandwiches with us to eat in Toronto because the dinner is horrible. Probably the worst we've had on Air Canada. Chicken with dried out pasta protruding from a bland tomato sauce. And a salad combining peas with diced fruit that I can't identify.
Monday, December 8/2009
Technically it is Monday morning, although it still feels like Sunday night as we take the truck in to catch the midnight express - well, VIA 1:16 - to Winnipeg. And we're lucky it's only to Winnipeg, as a derailed freight train is still smouldering on the Saskatchewan/Manitoba border and those going farther are dispatched to buses - a slow and uncomfortable way to reach Vancouver.
Portage and Main is not, according to Ian, the windiest spot in the city - honours go to Portage and Memorial - but it's still enough of a contender that, with a -20 Celsius temperature, we know why we're heading for the Mediterranean. But the house, and later the welcome, are warm.
Portage and Main is not, according to Ian, the windiest spot in the city - honours go to Portage and Memorial - but it's still enough of a contender that, with a -20 Celsius temperature, we know why we're heading for the Mediterranean. But the house, and later the welcome, are warm.
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Sunday, June 28/2009
Don and Patty have spent the night on the way up to their cabin for the season. The weather has been horrible - rainy and not warm - but it has given us a little longer to chat and to play with their new puppy, Maggi, as we wait for it to clear enough to take the ATV in to the cabin.
Advertisements on the BBC news home page look amazingly tailored to have been designed for a general audience. For example:
Winnipeg Downtown. Competent therapists a short walk from the office - help is close by.
This is the international version of the page, but it seems rather close to home. Do the same messages appear on the screens of viewers in South Africa of Finland? Even worse, have "they" been observing my viewing history and concluding that therapy is in order? But if that is the case, they have failed to note that I am retired and not at the office. Perhaps it is random after all.
Advertisements on the BBC news home page look amazingly tailored to have been designed for a general audience. For example:
Winnipeg Downtown. Competent therapists a short walk from the office - help is close by.
This is the international version of the page, but it seems rather close to home. Do the same messages appear on the screens of viewers in South Africa of Finland? Even worse, have "they" been observing my viewing history and concluding that therapy is in order? But if that is the case, they have failed to note that I am retired and not at the office. Perhaps it is random after all.
Monday, June 22/2009
Dinner at Skip and Caryl's. Their son Kurt is up visiting for a few days' fishing so we get to visit with him as well. We eat on their porch facing the lake - and see a beaver swimming purposefully toward our house - where he has already felled a tree, damaging the roof of the pump house.
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Saturday, June 21/2009
Awake early to watch qualifying for the British Grand Prix. This year, of course, the political juggling as the series threatens to split in two (so some sportscasters put it, though the reality is more like a hijacking than a split, as the majority of teams are threatening to leave, with some justification).
Stop in town at the drugstore to pick up some tinned salmon, on sale in this week's flyers. No, none left. And the sale was last week. I protest that I'm certain I saw them earlier this week. But it turns out that the fiscal cum flyer week begins on Saturday. So it's now next week. J is waiting outside in the car, chatting with friends. A young man joins the group and admires our car. The car, though, is only an excuse to begin conversation. What he really wants to tell us, his speech a little slurred, is that he has been learning the art of sell-leb-acy. Accent on the second syllable. Tough going, it seems, as he adds "but I still want a woman."
Stop in town at the drugstore to pick up some tinned salmon, on sale in this week's flyers. No, none left. And the sale was last week. I protest that I'm certain I saw them earlier this week. But it turns out that the fiscal cum flyer week begins on Saturday. So it's now next week. J is waiting outside in the car, chatting with friends. A young man joins the group and admires our car. The car, though, is only an excuse to begin conversation. What he really wants to tell us, his speech a little slurred, is that he has been learning the art of sell-leb-acy. Accent on the second syllable. Tough going, it seems, as he adds "but I still want a woman."
Friday, July 19/2009
We have a second free dump pass, so off with the half ton loaded with everything from the old kitchen stove from the rental (from which J has carefully removed everything of value from burners to fuses) to broken window glass and miscellaneous packing foam. It was all covered with a large blue tarp tied down tightly yesterday to protect it from rain, so today all we have to do is drive off - after stopping for coffee at Robin's with Caryl and Skip. The ten mile drive from town is usually not busy but there's fairly steady traffic today as the free passes end tomorrow. Strange smell in the truck - did some small animal die in the ventilation system? Ugly thought.
Dump, of course, is not what it's called as I've noted before. Nor tip, nor garbage disposal. It does appear in the town directory under waste management, fairly enough I suppose. The actual place itself being Hidden Lake Landfill Site. In the age of politically correct wording, it's become almost impossible to look up facilities. And sometimes there doesn't seem to be much actual change. Thus the term "retarded" has become so thoroughly offensive to many people that I haven't heard it in years. Yet literally all that it means is slow or delayed. As in the French "en retard." Which sounds a great deal like the currently acceptable "developmentally delayed." Both of them implying an optimistic assumption that the development will eventually occur. Then there's the replacement of disabled with "differently abled." That makes a fair point, perhaps, but at the cost of a fair bit of awkwardness.
But I digress. We reach the dump, and the expected queue is down to one small truck. There's a spectator gallery of gulls lining the peak of the roof of a storage garage, hoping, no doubt, for smellier and more interesting goods than one is allowed to bring here on the free pass. On the left is an enormous collection of blue and clear bags full of recycling. All the containers that we put out on alternate Wednesdays cheerfully assuming that they are being reprocessed for a guilt free existence. And some year this may happen. The centre mountain is "general," with a separate, slightly smaller white mountain of appliances. And spots for wood, used batteries, etc. The cathartic effect of disposing of a truckful of refuse somewhat diminished by seeing it added to the enormity of everyone else's grubby mattresses, dented fridges, broken bicycles and plastic toys.
Dump, of course, is not what it's called as I've noted before. Nor tip, nor garbage disposal. It does appear in the town directory under waste management, fairly enough I suppose. The actual place itself being Hidden Lake Landfill Site. In the age of politically correct wording, it's become almost impossible to look up facilities. And sometimes there doesn't seem to be much actual change. Thus the term "retarded" has become so thoroughly offensive to many people that I haven't heard it in years. Yet literally all that it means is slow or delayed. As in the French "en retard." Which sounds a great deal like the currently acceptable "developmentally delayed." Both of them implying an optimistic assumption that the development will eventually occur. Then there's the replacement of disabled with "differently abled." That makes a fair point, perhaps, but at the cost of a fair bit of awkwardness.
But I digress. We reach the dump, and the expected queue is down to one small truck. There's a spectator gallery of gulls lining the peak of the roof of a storage garage, hoping, no doubt, for smellier and more interesting goods than one is allowed to bring here on the free pass. On the left is an enormous collection of blue and clear bags full of recycling. All the containers that we put out on alternate Wednesdays cheerfully assuming that they are being reprocessed for a guilt free existence. And some year this may happen. The centre mountain is "general," with a separate, slightly smaller white mountain of appliances. And spots for wood, used batteries, etc. The cathartic effect of disposing of a truckful of refuse somewhat diminished by seeing it added to the enormity of everyone else's grubby mattresses, dented fridges, broken bicycles and plastic toys.
Monday, 8 June 2009
June 8/2009
Funeral of M.E. today, and exactly what a small town funeral should be. Standing room only, which in Sacred Heart Church means well over 300 people. A wife, four children, seven grandchildren, and dozens of friends, relatives, and former colleagues. Interesting that a former conservation officer (read game warden) should be beloved of so many people. But then he wore many other hats - from volunteer fireman to credit union board member, and at the reception after the service the hats themselves with their various logos are on a table next to the photographs recording a lifetime.
Cremation had taken place before the memorial Mass, and the priest uses, more than once, the term cremains. The meaning is obvious enough, but the word itself unfamiliar. At home I check it on the internet and find, as well as the expected definition, the following:
Carbon copies: Pencils made from the carbon of human cremains. 240 pencils can be made from an average body of ash - a lifetime supply of pencils for those left behind.
It seems it's a bit more than waste not, want not. More of a memento, or even memento mori, with the name of the deceased stamped on each pencil.
Cremation had taken place before the memorial Mass, and the priest uses, more than once, the term cremains. The meaning is obvious enough, but the word itself unfamiliar. At home I check it on the internet and find, as well as the expected definition, the following:
Carbon copies: Pencils made from the carbon of human cremains. 240 pencils can be made from an average body of ash - a lifetime supply of pencils for those left behind.
It seems it's a bit more than waste not, want not. More of a memento, or even memento mori, with the name of the deceased stamped on each pencil.
Thursday, 28 May 2009
May 23/2009
Drive to Kenora to visit with Susan and Ian. It's finally starting to look like spring, especially toward Lake of the Woods, where the trees are in bud. We're crossing the second bridge on Storm Bay Road when I spot what looks like swans and persuade J to stop. They're not swans, of course. They're pelicans. Nearly the size of swans, though with less neck and more bill, but almost as magnificent. Six of them sailing white against the dark blue water. In the afternoon the four of us go fishing, trolling through silent bays and listening to the white throated sparrows calling. We hear loons, but don't see them. We do see the beautiful pelicans again, taking off, landing, and sailing proudly by.
Thursday, 14 May 2009
Wednesday, May 13/2009
Perhaps non-travel time should be a separate blog, but I can't be bothered, and, existentially, I'm not sure that the summers here are any less a part of our travels than the winters when we are on the move.
Right now it seems unlikely that we will ever see spring, let alone summer. The ice is, as of this week, gone from the lake. We had been hoping to take a load of general clean-up rubbish to the dump (conveniently located only 25 km away, following a five year study of where, on this bit of northern shield wilderness, a garbage dump might appropriately be situated). I check online to see when the dump is open - a task made somewhat more difficult by trying to guess what name it is likely to go under. Sanitation? Waste management? Rubbish disposal? Environmental engineering? Landfill? Obviously not simply garbage dump. Eventually it transpires that the information on the town website is wrong. Yes, they know it's wrong but the correct information is to be found elsewhere. The town's website is not easy to change, but they're working on it. All of which reminds us of the time when John D borrowed a friend's half ton to do a major clean-up and haul the lot to the local dump, then normally open on Sundays. When he arrived there was a sign on the gate saying "Dump closed today - open yesterday." But today the dump is open, and J and Klaus manage to dispose of our junk between showers, rather than having to wait for Friday, when snow is forecast.
Right now it seems unlikely that we will ever see spring, let alone summer. The ice is, as of this week, gone from the lake. We had been hoping to take a load of general clean-up rubbish to the dump (conveniently located only 25 km away, following a five year study of where, on this bit of northern shield wilderness, a garbage dump might appropriately be situated). I check online to see when the dump is open - a task made somewhat more difficult by trying to guess what name it is likely to go under. Sanitation? Waste management? Rubbish disposal? Environmental engineering? Landfill? Obviously not simply garbage dump. Eventually it transpires that the information on the town website is wrong. Yes, they know it's wrong but the correct information is to be found elsewhere. The town's website is not easy to change, but they're working on it. All of which reminds us of the time when John D borrowed a friend's half ton to do a major clean-up and haul the lot to the local dump, then normally open on Sundays. When he arrived there was a sign on the gate saying "Dump closed today - open yesterday." But today the dump is open, and J and Klaus manage to dispose of our junk between showers, rather than having to wait for Friday, when snow is forecast.
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Monday, April 20/2009
Heathrow by tube. The return trip is perfectly set up with early afternoon departure and supper time arrival, but that is dependent on an hour to make the connection in Ottawa, so when we leave the tarmac 45 minutes late, we know it's plan B. Landing cards have got bigger - but warn that they're not to be folded. As everyone is carrying coats and hand luggage it seems to leave little option but the teeth. And they seem to be primarily obsessed with what food we might be importing. Never mind the gold, laundered money, even drugs. I confess to chocolate bars and they let us through - to wait for a later flight to Toronto and thence to Winnipeg.
I try to phone Susan and Ian to let them know that we'll be late, afraid that they might simply go to the airport straight from work. I'm quite pleased with myself for having prepared months earlier for this eventuality by buying a phone card, supposedly good for six months from first use. I find a pay phone and dial the number on the card, in order to be told that the number is not good - complain to the seller of the card. A helpful young woman in hijab is in charge of the information desk and I ask about pay internet terminals. She shows me one that she has discovered in a corner, and I later decide that well might they wish to hide in a corner. Two dollars for ten minutes. Sounds not unreasonable. In ten minutes I should be able to send the same message to both Ian and Susan, at home as well as at work to be on the safe side. Think again. In slightly over ten minutes - therefore slightly over two dollars - the computer has failed to make any kind of contact with the outside world at all. It won't even load google - which I finally try as a test. In fact the only thing it does at all well is process the credit card. With no real hope, I try the Air Canada desk. As the plane failed to make its connection, could I possibly telephone? Terribly sorry, they're not allowed to make long distance calls, but they do sell phone cards at the little shop. They don't, actually, but what they sell, the shop assistant explains, is receipts. She has to explain it more than once, as the receipt seems to me to be what one receives after a purchase, not instead of one. But essentially it's a cardless card. You pay for the number that you are to use to make the phone call - printed on the receipt. Fine. Five dollars - though I've forgotten that in Canada that means five dollars plus tax. All right, $5.65. I go to make the call, using the number provided. The recorded message on the phone says smugly "This card is not valid. Goodbye." Back to the shop, where the girl is horrified and tries the number herself. On her phone - possibly not Bell - it works, so I quickly take the phone from her before she can feel obliged to say that it's not a public phone, dial Ian and Susan's number and leave the message, and thank the girl profusely. Done.
Flights to Toronto and then Winnipeg. Not sure whether S&I will meet us at the airport or never speak to us again. Fortunately they got the message and all is well. We're home.
I try to phone Susan and Ian to let them know that we'll be late, afraid that they might simply go to the airport straight from work. I'm quite pleased with myself for having prepared months earlier for this eventuality by buying a phone card, supposedly good for six months from first use. I find a pay phone and dial the number on the card, in order to be told that the number is not good - complain to the seller of the card. A helpful young woman in hijab is in charge of the information desk and I ask about pay internet terminals. She shows me one that she has discovered in a corner, and I later decide that well might they wish to hide in a corner. Two dollars for ten minutes. Sounds not unreasonable. In ten minutes I should be able to send the same message to both Ian and Susan, at home as well as at work to be on the safe side. Think again. In slightly over ten minutes - therefore slightly over two dollars - the computer has failed to make any kind of contact with the outside world at all. It won't even load google - which I finally try as a test. In fact the only thing it does at all well is process the credit card. With no real hope, I try the Air Canada desk. As the plane failed to make its connection, could I possibly telephone? Terribly sorry, they're not allowed to make long distance calls, but they do sell phone cards at the little shop. They don't, actually, but what they sell, the shop assistant explains, is receipts. She has to explain it more than once, as the receipt seems to me to be what one receives after a purchase, not instead of one. But essentially it's a cardless card. You pay for the number that you are to use to make the phone call - printed on the receipt. Fine. Five dollars - though I've forgotten that in Canada that means five dollars plus tax. All right, $5.65. I go to make the call, using the number provided. The recorded message on the phone says smugly "This card is not valid. Goodbye." Back to the shop, where the girl is horrified and tries the number herself. On her phone - possibly not Bell - it works, so I quickly take the phone from her before she can feel obliged to say that it's not a public phone, dial Ian and Susan's number and leave the message, and thank the girl profusely. Done.
Flights to Toronto and then Winnipeg. Not sure whether S&I will meet us at the airport or never speak to us again. Fortunately they got the message and all is well. We're home.
Sunday, April 19/2009
Awake early - more or less awake that is - to watch the race, and it's a good one. And out to bring back a fat Times to spend the day with. Fighting off a cold and have decided that it's a sedentary day, wasteful though this is in London. But it's also packing day, and, one way and another that seems to take all day. Mostly because it's a weeding process, disposing of all the things that cannot possibly fit in the little suitcases.
Telephone call from Alexander, friend of Dorothy, saying that Flora has just pointed out it's our last day, and can we go out for a meal. We'd been hoping to meet them, and had spoken on the phone earlier. So they pick us up and we stop on Haverstock Hill at a pizza place. Nice thin crust pizza - ours with caramelised red onion, spinach and fetta. The onion is a definite keeper. A bottle of red, and getting to know each other. They both went to music school at the old Regina Campus of the University of Saskatchewan, where they met D. Flora originally from BC, but having spent more than half her life in England now, and Alexander originally English. Promises to meet again next time - in fact they're insistant that we should stay with them!
Telephone call from Alexander, friend of Dorothy, saying that Flora has just pointed out it's our last day, and can we go out for a meal. We'd been hoping to meet them, and had spoken on the phone earlier. So they pick us up and we stop on Haverstock Hill at a pizza place. Nice thin crust pizza - ours with caramelised red onion, spinach and fetta. The onion is a definite keeper. A bottle of red, and getting to know each other. They both went to music school at the old Regina Campus of the University of Saskatchewan, where they met D. Flora originally from BC, but having spent more than half her life in England now, and Alexander originally English. Promises to meet again next time - in fact they're insistant that we should stay with them!
Saturday, April 18/2009
Try to find THE Abbey Road location, which I have assumed is just off Belsize Road. But when we walk over, the address simply doesn't exist, and, worse than that, the spot where it should be doesn't have the right sort of street number - should be much lower. More research required. Meanwhile hop on a bus headed to West Hampstead. Poke about a bit, but not much going on. Pass a Chinese medical clinic, San Ling, advertising cures for:
Impotence
Stiff Neck
Insomnia
Frozen Shoulder
Indigestion
Stress
Anxiety
Arthritis
All listed on the same large sign. An impressive offering.
Afternoon we take the tube out to Jean's, where we visit until Shanthi arrives to share supper. A nice visit and lovely food. We couldn't pass up the final opportunity, but probably should have done, as Jean has been under the weather all week and really isn't feeling well now.
Impotence
Stiff Neck
Insomnia
Frozen Shoulder
Indigestion
Stress
Anxiety
Arthritis
All listed on the same large sign. An impressive offering.
Afternoon we take the tube out to Jean's, where we visit until Shanthi arrives to share supper. A nice visit and lovely food. We couldn't pass up the final opportunity, but probably should have done, as Jean has been under the weather all week and really isn't feeling well now.
Friday, April 17/2009
Heading into the last weekend. We stop at Canada House to check the mail. Most of the computers are in use, and they try to speed people up by providing only two computers that can be used while seated. The other four are stand-up for the user. I take a stand-up computer and am not particularly annoyed until I notice that the man next to me, who seems to have been sent to amuse hiimself while his wife does the family business on another screen, has given up whining that he can't find AOL and is now playing solitaire. I refrain from pointing out, accurately enough, that he is doing nothing while there is a queue! Cardinal sin. His wife finishes and tells him that he has been talking about. He complains that it's over now. "Well you did want me to check about the tickets, didn't you?"
Friday, 17 April 2009
Thursday, April 16/2009
National Theatre releases some ten pound seats each day for that day's performance, so we head over for 10 a.m. and get 2 front row seats for England People Very Nice. This leaves us over 3 hours until curtain time so we put up our umbrellas and go over to the Barbican library.
The play itself is a sellout and quite funny. It looks, as promised, at centuries of immigration in successive waves to Londons Bethnal Green neighourhood. The point, of course, is that immigrants have always arrived, been resented, and eventually integrated and been replaced by other nationalities. It's sensitive material potentially, but the playwright has taken the modus used in the Simpsons - use outrageous caricature bvut be fair and satirise all groups with equal ruthlessness. And there are the running jokes: periodically a character says that there is no hell and this is all the heaven we'll ever get, to which the answer is "what, Bethnal Green?!" It's a long play, but fun.
The play itself is a sellout and quite funny. It looks, as promised, at centuries of immigration in successive waves to Londons Bethnal Green neighourhood. The point, of course, is that immigrants have always arrived, been resented, and eventually integrated and been replaced by other nationalities. It's sensitive material potentially, but the playwright has taken the modus used in the Simpsons - use outrageous caricature bvut be fair and satirise all groups with equal ruthlessness. And there are the running jokes: periodically a character says that there is no hell and this is all the heaven we'll ever get, to which the answer is "what, Bethnal Green?!" It's a long play, but fun.
Wednesday, April 15/2009
Warmest day so far predicted so we're off for the old city. Off the tube at Chancery Lane and with some difficulty we find Barnard's Inn Hall for the free Gresham lecture at 1. Pass first Staples Inn and a magnificent tudor lookiing building, not quite straight with age, with a tobacconist on the ground floor. They're both 16th century and we imagine Shakespeare walking down the road when they were new.
The lecture is full. The hall only holds about a hundred and we've been warned to be early to get a seat. The topic is interesting - is mental illness all in the genes - and there is some interesting research, but iti's a bit flat. (the genetic answer to the question is "mostly.") The questions are intelligent though and the answers competent.
It's warm (21) and sunny and we wander in the area. beautiful period buildings mixed with some of the monstrosities Prince Charles complains about. across from the royal Courts of Justice is a little pub, the Seven Stars. It claims to date from 602 and to have survived the Great Fire. Hard to say how much of the building is original but it's charming and old and friendly, a long narrow place with flowers outside and a resident black cat with a white ruffled collar.
Quick visit to St. clement Danes and we hop a number 13 bus home. Unlucky 13. Part way its in aminor accident with a small van. Not the fault of the bus driver. Switch buses and home via Finchley Road Sainsbury's.
The lecture is full. The hall only holds about a hundred and we've been warned to be early to get a seat. The topic is interesting - is mental illness all in the genes - and there is some interesting research, but iti's a bit flat. (the genetic answer to the question is "mostly.") The questions are intelligent though and the answers competent.
It's warm (21) and sunny and we wander in the area. beautiful period buildings mixed with some of the monstrosities Prince Charles complains about. across from the royal Courts of Justice is a little pub, the Seven Stars. It claims to date from 602 and to have survived the Great Fire. Hard to say how much of the building is original but it's charming and old and friendly, a long narrow place with flowers outside and a resident black cat with a white ruffled collar.
Quick visit to St. clement Danes and we hop a number 13 bus home. Unlucky 13. Part way its in aminor accident with a small van. Not the fault of the bus driver. Switch buses and home via Finchley Road Sainsbury's.
Tuesday, April 14/2009
A bit of electronic research at John Lewis. Ipods, notebooks, ebook readers. Lots of toys and a quiet atmosphere unlike the chaos on Tottenham Court road. On the way back J spots a mouse on the underground track.
Monday, April 13/2009
Two lovely walks. In the morning we go with Jenny to take the dogs to Telegraph Hill for a run. It's woodland near Claygate village, quite natural and a great place for the dogs to follow scents. In the afternoon we pick up Jenny's mum and go to Richmond Park. It's one of the oroiginal royal hunting parks and a huge park even for a city that is over a quarter green space. We head for the Isabella Plantation, some flowering trees over a hundred years old and fragrant with azaleas and heather as well as brilliant with camellias, oleander and rhododendrons as well. There are little streams and plenty of paths to wander and get lost on, which we do for a bit. Still full light after 6 and Jenny drops us at Wimbledon Station where we get a replacement coach to Clapham Jct - then Waterloo by train and Northern line home by eight.
Sunday, april 12/2009
Easter Sunday. Julia and Neil have coloured eggs and there is traditional Palestinian baking. Emma and Giles arrive with Jenny's mother and baby Jasmine, and then Laura and Nathan with Sam and Kai and baby Cody. Easter brunch is fun. the Clarkes have a traditional game involving the finding of the strongest egg by doing battle conker style and seeing which egg survives uncracked. Sam and Kai have great fun with quite convincing fake eggs.
Jenny's Palestinian aunts arrive for tea. Doug's sister and brother-in-law with son Graham and two granddaughters in tow as well, so by then there are 23 of us including the babies. A lovely time.
Jenny's Palestinian aunts arrive for tea. Doug's sister and brother-in-law with son Graham and two granddaughters in tow as well, so by then there are 23 of us including the babies. A lovely time.
Saturday, April 11/2009
Afternoon over to Jenny and Doug's. It's a bit chaotic transportation because of long weekend maintenance, so Jubilee line not running and coac replaces train between Clapham Junction and Surbiton and everything takes a bit longer. Drizzle as we arrive but sunny welcome. Weather improves and we go for a walk round Thames Ditton with Jenny. Doug back fore dinner and we're joined by Jenny's niece Julia, soon to be studying medicine at Kings college, and Julia's boyfriend Neil. Lovely stew for dinner.
Friday, April 10/2009
A bit drizzly off and on as befits a Good Friday, but quite warm. All kinds of disruption to the transport system but still ppossible to work out alternate routes. Thus we take the Northern to Bank and then Dockland Light Railway to West India Quay to visit the Museum of London Docklands. It's free this weekend so a good time to go. It's much smaller than the Museum of London proper but quite interesting in its own right, covering the history of the Thames and London as a port from pre-Roman times. The history of the bridges is of interest and there are lots of drawings and ship models and a pretty realistic recreation of a slightly sinister dockside area and buildings.
Thursday. April 9/2009
At Barbican check that our return flight to Canada is still at the same time as originally ticketed, mindful of the time the snippy air Canada rep at Heathrow said that departure times changed after daylight savings time began. And this was a consideration they had been unable to anticipate at time of sale? But no cha ge this year it seems.
Holy Thursday Mass at Westminster Cathedral, the last Easter for Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor who is retiring. As we walk from Victoria to the cathedral we see an old man bent over and slowly feeling his way along the wall of a tempporary walkway diverting us around construction. It's quite a distressing sight and I'm hoping he's finds his way to wherever he's going - which he evidently does as J sees him later in the front of the cathedral. It's standing room only and one of the most moving liturgies of the year, in Latin with full choir. The 12 men having their feet washed by Cathedral tradition are 12 pensioners from the Royal Chelsea Hospital of our yesterday's visit, resplendent in their brilliant red uniforms. The church remains open for prayer until midnight when there will be compline and the stripping of the altar, but we leave for home.
Holy Thursday Mass at Westminster Cathedral, the last Easter for Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor who is retiring. As we walk from Victoria to the cathedral we see an old man bent over and slowly feeling his way along the wall of a tempporary walkway diverting us around construction. It's quite a distressing sight and I'm hoping he's finds his way to wherever he's going - which he evidently does as J sees him later in the front of the cathedral. It's standing room only and one of the most moving liturgies of the year, in Latin with full choir. The 12 men having their feet washed by Cathedral tradition are 12 pensioners from the Royal Chelsea Hospital of our yesterday's visit, resplendent in their brilliant red uniforms. The church remains open for prayer until midnight when there will be compline and the stripping of the altar, but we leave for home.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Wednesday, April 8/2009
Wake to hoofbeats - about 60 police horses being ridden and led past our flat.
Chelsea afternoon. We start at Sloan Square and pay a visit to the Saatchi Gallery. Interesting and often witty works, mostly by young artist from the Middle East. a fascinating display with several very convincing life sized men of various ethnic and cultural backgrounds all in motorized wheelchairs circulating in a room - their chairs changing direction as they encounter obstacles. There's a Greek Orthodox priest, a man in Arab headdress and a number of other characters. J tells a small child that only one is real and the boy is sure he's spotted which one.
Then to the Royal Chelsea Hospital grounds, home of the red-coated army pensiones. The grounds are lovely - a mini village with beautiful gardens, though not many pensioners in sight. After this we stop at the Army Museum next door. It's small and a bit randomly organised but there are some high points. There are a number of very good military paintings and a small display examining James Wolfe in images.
The walk down to the Thames is dotted with historic blue plaques - many notables have lived in the neighbourhood, including Oscar Wilde and George Eliot. We're supposed to finish at the King's Head and Eight Bells, drinking spot of Henry VIII, but, though we were once there before, no joy in finding it. Eventually the appalling reason emerges - it's been changed into a restaurant, a Brasserie, complete with a dreadful poodle sign outside. Unbelievable! Still, it has been a good afternoon.
Chelsea afternoon. We start at Sloan Square and pay a visit to the Saatchi Gallery. Interesting and often witty works, mostly by young artist from the Middle East. a fascinating display with several very convincing life sized men of various ethnic and cultural backgrounds all in motorized wheelchairs circulating in a room - their chairs changing direction as they encounter obstacles. There's a Greek Orthodox priest, a man in Arab headdress and a number of other characters. J tells a small child that only one is real and the boy is sure he's spotted which one.
Then to the Royal Chelsea Hospital grounds, home of the red-coated army pensiones. The grounds are lovely - a mini village with beautiful gardens, though not many pensioners in sight. After this we stop at the Army Museum next door. It's small and a bit randomly organised but there are some high points. There are a number of very good military paintings and a small display examining James Wolfe in images.
The walk down to the Thames is dotted with historic blue plaques - many notables have lived in the neighbourhood, including Oscar Wilde and George Eliot. We're supposed to finish at the King's Head and Eight Bells, drinking spot of Henry VIII, but, though we were once there before, no joy in finding it. Eventually the appalling reason emerges - it's been changed into a restaurant, a Brasserie, complete with a dreadful poodle sign outside. Unbelievable! Still, it has been a good afternoon.
Tuesday, April 7/2009
Over to Asda by tube and DLR. Then in the pm we go separate ways - J downtown to see the sights, the Tamil protest in Parliament Square and the character in Trafalgar Square who allows himself to b chained and locked up to demonstrate his escape artist flair. I go out to spend the afternoon with Jean, and as usual the talk flows. Back to J's homemade chicken soup.
Monday, April 6/2009
A lovely day and rain predicted for the rest of the week so we set off for outdoor explorations. First down to holborn Viaduct to look at the oldest publid drinking supply in London, in a wall by St. Sepulcher's. Tiny, and the hose doesn't work, but the original cups are still chained there.
We're near the Old Bailey and walk past but the pub we one ate at is gone - or at least upgraded into less interesting etablishments. North of St. Paul's we come to the tiny Postman's Park. It's by a Methodist Church with tributes to John and Charles Wesley. the sight we've come for is a wll with ceramic plaques commemorating the sacrifices of various people, some of them children, who gave their lives in attempts to save others from fates as diverse as drowning, death in housefires or runaway horses. It's simple and very moving. By now we're up against the original city wall and we resolve some day to follow its path - but not today.
In the afternoon it's still warm and sunny so we walk up to Hampstead Heath. Past the Magdala pub, where Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be hanged in Britain, shot her unfaithful lover. Bullet holes still visible. On Parliament Hill children are flying kites with considerable success - one boy barely remains on the ground as his kite catches the wind. We wander past the ponds where the coots are nesting and a duck demurely allows herself to be courted by to drakes and exit on the Highgate side. Bus back to Finchley Road.
We're near the Old Bailey and walk past but the pub we one ate at is gone - or at least upgraded into less interesting etablishments. North of St. Paul's we come to the tiny Postman's Park. It's by a Methodist Church with tributes to John and Charles Wesley. the sight we've come for is a wll with ceramic plaques commemorating the sacrifices of various people, some of them children, who gave their lives in attempts to save others from fates as diverse as drowning, death in housefires or runaway horses. It's simple and very moving. By now we're up against the original city wall and we resolve some day to follow its path - but not today.
In the afternoon it's still warm and sunny so we walk up to Hampstead Heath. Past the Magdala pub, where Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be hanged in Britain, shot her unfaithful lover. Bullet holes still visible. On Parliament Hill children are flying kites with considerable success - one boy barely remains on the ground as his kite catches the wind. We wander past the ponds where the coots are nesting and a duck demurely allows herself to be courted by to drakes and exit on the Highgate side. Bus back to Finchley Road.
Sunday, April 5/2009
We are marking the first anniversary of Siva's death and go, therefore, with Jean and Shanthi, to the Tamil temple in Ealing. Jean takes the traditional gifts of rice, lentils, fruit and milk, as well as a garment for the priest. The temple is in a former church, the outer room today garlanded in preparation for a wedding, the wedding, the wedding dais on a platform at one end of the hall. The main sanctuary area has a number of shrines, elaborate with brightly painted statues and flowers.
People come and go, including families with small children. we have all removed our shoes and left them outside. There is incense in the air and people praying at different shrines. shanthi explains things for us and when it's our turn the priest is very kind, shepherding us through the ritual in front of the shrine of Shiva, the giver and taker of life. We put ashes on our foreheads, much as on Ash Wednesday, and Jean presents the fruit. There are chanted prayers in Tamil and times for circling the shrine. The praers are for the wellbeing of Siva's soul. The gifts of rice are cooked for anyone who is at the temple to enjoy, and after the ceremony we go through to the hall and eat a lovely savoury lemon rice dish and a white rice that is both hot and sweet, as well as fruit and Indian sweets. Very nice end to am oving ceremony.
Shanthi invites us back for tea before her tutoring student arrives, and provides sausage rolls and little Singapore pineapple tarts as well. Priya is there, taking a short break from studying, light in her eyes when she talks about plans for graduating events. Back for a glass of wine with Jean and then home by tube.
People come and go, including families with small children. we have all removed our shoes and left them outside. There is incense in the air and people praying at different shrines. shanthi explains things for us and when it's our turn the priest is very kind, shepherding us through the ritual in front of the shrine of Shiva, the giver and taker of life. We put ashes on our foreheads, much as on Ash Wednesday, and Jean presents the fruit. There are chanted prayers in Tamil and times for circling the shrine. The praers are for the wellbeing of Siva's soul. The gifts of rice are cooked for anyone who is at the temple to enjoy, and after the ceremony we go through to the hall and eat a lovely savoury lemon rice dish and a white rice that is both hot and sweet, as well as fruit and Indian sweets. Very nice end to am oving ceremony.
Shanthi invites us back for tea before her tutoring student arrives, and provides sausage rolls and little Singapore pineapple tarts as well. Priya is there, taking a short break from studying, light in her eyes when she talks about plans for graduating events. Back for a glass of wine with Jean and then home by tube.
Saturday, April 4/2009
Basic grocery shop in the morning - everything looks cheap after Dublin. then in the afternoon out to Jean's in West Harrow. Chat time and a curry supper. Then Jean to a choral concert previously booked while we make ourselves at home with tea and telly.
Friday, april 3/2009
Suddenly realise we have to leave for the airport and there isn't even time for postcards. Forty euro more to ryanair for not having checked in online - well last time with them. The flight numbers for Ryanair all begin with FR - f...Ryanair. Back at Gatwick half an hour late we still catch a train that gets us in in time to pick up the keys for the bedsit before 6. The flat is at 57 Belsize Park. It needs a frying pan, kettle and corkscrew, but that can come later. We're home.
Thursday, April 2/2009
Attempt to get boarding pass online at internet cafe to avoid repeat penalty tomorrow. Repeated inapplicable explanations of why we are being refused. The nice young man running the cafe is so indignant on our behalf that he insists on phoning ryanair. No joy and no contact.
So cut our losses and take an order of chips from the fish and chip shop down to the benches on Bachelor's Walk on the north side of the Liffe to enjoy. Good thing we split an order as it's huge.
Crossing streets is unnerving in Dublin. There are walk lights but with sound effects. Various Morse code beeps which may help the blind but disorient us foreigners. Then the brief walk light - run would be more appropriate - announced by a shriek like a canary being swallowed followed by a tatoo like a heart attack. And we run for the other side.
A visit to the museum at the old army barracks. A very interesting exhibit on the Easter 1916 uprising and Irish independence. Then back across the river via the James Joyce Bridge and through the oldest section of the city, past christ Church Cathedral and Dublin Castle. Stop for a Guinness at the Bleeding Horse, now on the southern end of our city centre map but probably at its genesis in 1649 in country fields. It's quiet and a pleasant Romanian girl serves us. Only a few customers, several of whom appear to be Romanian as well. By the time we finish we decide against evensong at christ church and go back to Trinity for dinner.
So cut our losses and take an order of chips from the fish and chip shop down to the benches on Bachelor's Walk on the north side of the Liffe to enjoy. Good thing we split an order as it's huge.
Crossing streets is unnerving in Dublin. There are walk lights but with sound effects. Various Morse code beeps which may help the blind but disorient us foreigners. Then the brief walk light - run would be more appropriate - announced by a shriek like a canary being swallowed followed by a tatoo like a heart attack. And we run for the other side.
A visit to the museum at the old army barracks. A very interesting exhibit on the Easter 1916 uprising and Irish independence. Then back across the river via the James Joyce Bridge and through the oldest section of the city, past christ Church Cathedral and Dublin Castle. Stop for a Guinness at the Bleeding Horse, now on the southern end of our city centre map but probably at its genesis in 1649 in country fields. It's quiet and a pleasant Romanian girl serves us. Only a few customers, several of whom appear to be Romanian as well. By the time we finish we decide against evensong at christ church and go back to Trinity for dinner.
Saturday, 4 April 2009
Wednesday, April 1/2009
Look round the lovely inner courtyard of Trinity College - all old grey stone and green lawns. More exploring. Check out Merrion Square, former home to Yeats, Oscar Wilde and others, and a charming park in its own right. Nearby is the National Gallery and we spend longer than we expect there, especially in the Portrait Gallery. It's a mini Irish history course with full sized illustrations. We also have the advantage of a longish chat with Antony, a cheerful docent who is full of information and anecdote. For example, George Bernard Shaw, a thin vegetarian, once met Lord Beaverbrook Beaverbrook looked at Shaw and said that when he saw Shaw he could believe the stories of the starving masses, to which Shaw replied that when he looked at the portly Beaverbrook he could belioeve the Beaver was responsible for them starving. And Shaw is responsible for the free admission to the National Gallery. He willed it a third of his estate, including continuing royalties from Pygmalion and My Fair Lady.
Through Temple Bar - pretty touristy. Back to Trinity College for an excellent stirfry at the Buttery. Youu choose your vegetables and the cook adds chicken or tofu and a sauce and stir fries as you watch. A big plateful with rice, and very good. Over O'Connell Bridge and a walk along the north side of the Liffey and back to Lynam's.
Through Temple Bar - pretty touristy. Back to Trinity College for an excellent stirfry at the Buttery. Youu choose your vegetables and the cook adds chicken or tofu and a sauce and stir fries as you watch. A big plateful with rice, and very good. Over O'Connell Bridge and a walk along the north side of the Liffey and back to Lynam's.
Tuesday, March 31/2009
Leave at 6 a.m. and take the train from London Bridge to Gatwick, so we're early enough - but then the shock effect. The penalty for not having checked in online - which I've somehow missed - is twenty quid each. And the same coming back? Yes, if you don't find a computer to check in on. Actually it's not quite as bad - or even worse - than that sounds. The cost of checking in is either £10 each online or £20 each at the airport. The cheap fare is getting less so. Especially as there was already a "handling fee" of £10 each, plus taxes, plus fees.
Pleasant enough flight - absolutely no frills, and relatively inoffensive speaker-announced advertisements - and we arrive early. Ryanair is proud to announce that they're #1 for no lost luggage. Quite probably - they sharply discourage anyone from checking in anything with extra fees. Rumours re charging for loo on board as yet unfounded. They have more effective mans than that of squeezing cash out of you.
The bus in stops at the O'Connell St. bus station - two doors from our hotel, Lynam's, a Georgian buildikng with small rooms but with a kettle, tea and coffee and a hairdryer, as well as a very clean loo. The area is historic as well as central. We're a block north of the post office building, seized and defended by the rebels in the Easter 1916 uprising. There are still bullet marks on the building.
A happy day wandering the streets. Central Dublin is really quite small. We sit in St. Stephen's Green watching the ducks, and chat with a man who shows us his Sony electronic bookreader. It's really quite impressive, both in terms of the numberf of books it holds and for its anti-glare screen and compact size.
Finish at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where Jonathan Swift was dean, for evensong - a lovely combination of vespers and compline in the ancient cathedral.
Dublin is showing signs of the recession - quite a lot of office space vacant and a surprpising number of people begging. It's a very expensive city as well, especially food prpices and the cost of newspapers, both noticeably higher than in London. We've done well enough on weekday accommodation though.
Pleasant enough flight - absolutely no frills, and relatively inoffensive speaker-announced advertisements - and we arrive early. Ryanair is proud to announce that they're #1 for no lost luggage. Quite probably - they sharply discourage anyone from checking in anything with extra fees. Rumours re charging for loo on board as yet unfounded. They have more effective mans than that of squeezing cash out of you.
The bus in stops at the O'Connell St. bus station - two doors from our hotel, Lynam's, a Georgian buildikng with small rooms but with a kettle, tea and coffee and a hairdryer, as well as a very clean loo. The area is historic as well as central. We're a block north of the post office building, seized and defended by the rebels in the Easter 1916 uprising. There are still bullet marks on the building.
A happy day wandering the streets. Central Dublin is really quite small. We sit in St. Stephen's Green watching the ducks, and chat with a man who shows us his Sony electronic bookreader. It's really quite impressive, both in terms of the numberf of books it holds and for its anti-glare screen and compact size.
Finish at St. Patrick's Cathedral, where Jonathan Swift was dean, for evensong - a lovely combination of vespers and compline in the ancient cathedral.
Dublin is showing signs of the recession - quite a lot of office space vacant and a surprpising number of people begging. It's a very expensive city as well, especially food prpices and the cost of newspapers, both noticeably higher than in London. We've done well enough on weekday accommodation though.
Sunday, March 29/2009
Wake for the Australian Grand Prix, though not early enough. By the time my watch says 6:15 it's actually 7:15 as the time change occured in the night. Get to see most of the race though.
Go to the sung Latin Mass at the Jesuit church on Farm Street - of various literary references. A lovely church. The choice of music - Hassler, Purcell - is as good as Westminster Cathedral's, and the choir is quite good, though small and without the boy sopranos.
After brunch we abandon the Sunday Times and head off to a meeting of the Socialist Party, having been given a paper yesterday at Hyde Park advertising a talk today on Global Capitalism. It's at an address on Red ion Square which proves to be a little north of Bond St. tube station. One side of the square boasts a house where Dante Gabriel Rossetti once lived.
We're on the other side, across a tiny park, at Conway Hall - the Bertrand kRussell Room. It's a curious gathering. Thirteen of us in all, nine men and four women, including a male chairman and a female speaker. We're about the average age but most of the others seem to know each other, sometimes prefacing a first name with "Comrade." They are an uncompromisingly Marxist lot and seem to feel that other organisations rejoicing in the name of socialist have made unforgiveable compromises. Hence Tony Benn, for example, is dismissed as a Labour Party member when the Labour Party has sanctioned war - not only in Afghanistan, but also World War II.
In some ways they are a curiously innocent group. Hence the high level of idealism that sees capitalists as the evil and workers as the should-be inheritors of the earth, despite a sad recognition that neither war nor plague nor environmental disaster seems likely to cause any withering away of the state.
Actually, they resemble nothing so much as a religious gathering of courteous and decent folk, from polite welcome to a collection toward the end to cover expenses as they have had to pay for the hall. The £84.80 is reasonably impressive, as ity means the other 11 people present contributed £83.80. After the presentation there are questions and then "discussion." Harry, who handed us the original invitation yesterday, is particularly eager to move to the discussion, everyone having their say. He's been making notes during the speech and has a number of things to say, mostly not directly related to the presentation. For example, he doesn't believe in global warming and insists that capitalist countries with arctic coasts are deliberately melting ice to aid in the search for oil. Interestingly, though, these contributions do not, in fact, lead to discussion at all. Rather, somewhat like religious testimonials, they are accepted politely at fact value rather than as spurs to debate, and there is some feeling that points of disagreement should be ignored as distractions from shared ideology. It is as if at a Church meeting someone were to say that beautiful sunsets proved the existence of God and the others were too polite or too aware of the damage attendant on dissent to debate the quality of the suggested proof. There is a deliberate avoidance of how a world would actually function after the workers had acquired the mans of production. It would work somehow and the workers would be the ones to decide. It seems God is not the only one to work in mysterious ways beyond our undersetanding.
It's been interesting and a little sad. As the only true, uncompromised socialists they seem a little like the Christians willing to die over the issue of using three rather than two fingers to cross themselves - and their cause quite hopeless. Communism, they say has not failed; it has never been tried. The same point has been made about Christianity.
Go to the sung Latin Mass at the Jesuit church on Farm Street - of various literary references. A lovely church. The choice of music - Hassler, Purcell - is as good as Westminster Cathedral's, and the choir is quite good, though small and without the boy sopranos.
After brunch we abandon the Sunday Times and head off to a meeting of the Socialist Party, having been given a paper yesterday at Hyde Park advertising a talk today on Global Capitalism. It's at an address on Red ion Square which proves to be a little north of Bond St. tube station. One side of the square boasts a house where Dante Gabriel Rossetti once lived.
We're on the other side, across a tiny park, at Conway Hall - the Bertrand kRussell Room. It's a curious gathering. Thirteen of us in all, nine men and four women, including a male chairman and a female speaker. We're about the average age but most of the others seem to know each other, sometimes prefacing a first name with "Comrade." They are an uncompromisingly Marxist lot and seem to feel that other organisations rejoicing in the name of socialist have made unforgiveable compromises. Hence Tony Benn, for example, is dismissed as a Labour Party member when the Labour Party has sanctioned war - not only in Afghanistan, but also World War II.
In some ways they are a curiously innocent group. Hence the high level of idealism that sees capitalists as the evil and workers as the should-be inheritors of the earth, despite a sad recognition that neither war nor plague nor environmental disaster seems likely to cause any withering away of the state.
Actually, they resemble nothing so much as a religious gathering of courteous and decent folk, from polite welcome to a collection toward the end to cover expenses as they have had to pay for the hall. The £84.80 is reasonably impressive, as ity means the other 11 people present contributed £83.80. After the presentation there are questions and then "discussion." Harry, who handed us the original invitation yesterday, is particularly eager to move to the discussion, everyone having their say. He's been making notes during the speech and has a number of things to say, mostly not directly related to the presentation. For example, he doesn't believe in global warming and insists that capitalist countries with arctic coasts are deliberately melting ice to aid in the search for oil. Interestingly, though, these contributions do not, in fact, lead to discussion at all. Rather, somewhat like religious testimonials, they are accepted politely at fact value rather than as spurs to debate, and there is some feeling that points of disagreement should be ignored as distractions from shared ideology. It is as if at a Church meeting someone were to say that beautiful sunsets proved the existence of God and the others were too polite or too aware of the damage attendant on dissent to debate the quality of the suggested proof. There is a deliberate avoidance of how a world would actually function after the workers had acquired the mans of production. It would work somehow and the workers would be the ones to decide. It seems God is not the only one to work in mysterious ways beyond our undersetanding.
It's been interesting and a little sad. As the only true, uncompromised socialists they seem a little like the Christians willing to die over the issue of using three rather than two fingers to cross themselves - and their cause quite hopeless. Communism, they say has not failed; it has never been tried. The same point has been made about Christianity.
Saturday, March 25/2009
Wake at 5 to watch qualifying for the Australian Grand Prix, F1 season opener. Well, semi wake, anyway, but enough to enjoy seeing the formula 1 world turned on its head as the season shapes up with no certainties at all.
Join the Put People First demo in central London, a broad and loose coalition of Churches, trades unions, Greens, anti-war movements and, more darkly, anarchists, all of whom want G20 leaders to focus less on business and banks and more on common people and underdeveloped countries. There's an amazingly broad range of sponsors, from Quakers to journalists, and an equally eclectic looking group of marchers of all ages, long white beards to babies in pushchairs. Even a few dogs along. We walk from Parliament Square to Hyde Park, led by a small band. Quite a lot of police at the beginning but we're a pretty tame lot. As we leave Hyde Park we see them paying closer attention to some anarchists gathering with red and black flags by the Marble Arch end. A construction area with bits of rubble suitable for projectiles has been prudently fenced off.
Join the Put People First demo in central London, a broad and loose coalition of Churches, trades unions, Greens, anti-war movements and, more darkly, anarchists, all of whom want G20 leaders to focus less on business and banks and more on common people and underdeveloped countries. There's an amazingly broad range of sponsors, from Quakers to journalists, and an equally eclectic looking group of marchers of all ages, long white beards to babies in pushchairs. Even a few dogs along. We walk from Parliament Square to Hyde Park, led by a small band. Quite a lot of police at the beginning but we're a pretty tame lot. As we leave Hyde Park we see them paying closer attention to some anarchists gathering with red and black flags by the Marble Arch end. A construction area with bits of rubble suitable for projectiles has been prudently fenced off.
Fridach 27/2009
Threats of rain so we take umbrellas and head for a museum day. Start at the Science Museum, which is alive with small children. A disproportionate number of the exhibits are child-oriented as well, some of them with unnecessarily low lighting and explanatory material posted about knee level. Interesting early steam engine that beat out its early 19th century competitors to set a record of 29 mph, reminding us of James saying that the steam engine was the first thing to go faster than a Roman chariot.
Happy time at the Victoria and Albert across the road, poking about the gallery covering Britain from 1500 to the mid 18th century. Interesting fact: marriages did not require either Church or witnesses to be valid until well into the 18th century, which must make life more difficult for genealogists.
Then by tube to Bethnal Green where we check out pie shop #2 in our search for a replacement for Goddard's. Kelly's is a small and local shop. We don't actually try its wares because it looks depressingly inadequate compared to Goddard's but mark it for later. Home for spinach salad and pasta with shrimp sauce.
Happy time at the Victoria and Albert across the road, poking about the gallery covering Britain from 1500 to the mid 18th century. Interesting fact: marriages did not require either Church or witnesses to be valid until well into the 18th century, which must make life more difficult for genealogists.
Then by tube to Bethnal Green where we check out pie shop #2 in our search for a replacement for Goddard's. Kelly's is a small and local shop. We don't actually try its wares because it looks depressingly inadequate compared to Goddard's but mark it for later. Home for spinach salad and pasta with shrimp sauce.
Thursday, March 26/2009
Graffiti on HSBC advertisement on the tube: "banker - rhymes with...."
Research for day trips. On average coach is cheaper but train is quicker. Surprisingly prices to Bedford much higher than those to Stratford or Bath, though it's only an hour by train.
Find a shop in Kentish Town opposite the tube station which sells embroidery needs and will order what they don't have in stock - a shop kindly recommended by a woman working at Liberty's, where stock and even floor space seem greatly reduced.
Check out Castle's Eel and Pie Shop on Royal College in Camden Town. We're looking for a successor to Goddard's in Greenwich. It's friendly and the tiny space is serving locals from workmen to old ladies, but the pies look small and pancake flat, so we only sample the puddings - plenty of custard from a large pail of same but the puddings are not homemade and not a meal in themselves. It's not Goddard's.
Research for day trips. On average coach is cheaper but train is quicker. Surprisingly prices to Bedford much higher than those to Stratford or Bath, though it's only an hour by train.
Find a shop in Kentish Town opposite the tube station which sells embroidery needs and will order what they don't have in stock - a shop kindly recommended by a woman working at Liberty's, where stock and even floor space seem greatly reduced.
Check out Castle's Eel and Pie Shop on Royal College in Camden Town. We're looking for a successor to Goddard's in Greenwich. It's friendly and the tiny space is serving locals from workmen to old ladies, but the pies look small and pancake flat, so we only sample the puddings - plenty of custard from a large pail of same but the puddings are not homemade and not a meal in themselves. It's not Goddard's.
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