Death in the River Cam

The 28th of August must have been the worst day in the lives of two parents here in Cambridge as they received confirmation that their twelve year old son had been pulled lifeless from the river nine hours after friends had rung emergency services because he had not been able to resurface after jumping in from a foot bridge. Every parent hearing the news would immediately imagine the same thing happening to theirs and hug just a little tighter as kids went off to play in this last week of the summer break.

When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. Ernest Hemingway - A Moveable Feast.  Mathematicians check the accuracy and validity of their work by starting with their solution and reversing the process. To reverse Hemingway's comparison somehow doesn't ring true to the loss of innocence and hope of what could have been. It doesn't acknowledge the mustardy guilt of not being there or the desperation at not being able to be everything for your child. Perhaps then this description of the disappointment in a strong winter is demonstrating the distant observation of a stranger rather than the blinding darkness of a parent who has lost their child.

All men fear death. It’s a natural fear that consumes us all. We fear death because we feel that we haven’t loved well enough or loved at all, which ultimately are one and the same. Script that Woody Allen put in the mouth of E.H in his movie 'Midnight in Paris'.
Perhaps also we fear death because we love too well - if we have nothing sacred to loose, separation holds no fear or regret. Our hearts thump, peripheral vision clouds as imagination creates worst scenarios until we see the foot poking out from under the clothing rack in the department store or hear the whoosh of txt. Some laugh, other's rant but all of us love.

My heart goes out to this family and the young boy's friends and all the parents who battle again the balance of independence and safety in their tween's lives.

Lord help us teach our children to swim - chuck them in the deep end and coach them - life is rarely an indoor pool, more a series of muddy puddles with the occasional waterfall or weedy river.

image from: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2403763/Body-Andrew-Collings-12-pulled-River-Cam-near-Cambridge.html

Just Read:   The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachael Joyce, Black Swan 2012
A retired gentleman walks the length of England to keep a friend from dying of cancer. In this time of one foot after another he relives forgotten horrors and joys finally reconciling the grief in his life. A psychological mystery - the only deaths are choice and natural causes yet so much is presented to be unravelled.

" Harold thought of the people he had already met on his journey.  All of them were different, but none struck him as strange.  He considered his own life and how ordinary it might look from the outside, when really it held such darkness and trouble." p164

"...he saw that he had been naive.  Beginnings could happen more than once..." p178

"Harold said something quiet about Berwick, and atoning for the past. He was unnerved by the very famous actor's confession and was still trying to find a place in himself in which to keep it." p195

Just Watched:  Midnight in Paris Written and directed by Woody Allen
A cartoon without animation for grown ups. Don't be put off the arrogant, selfish shallowness of the wealthy American family or the whinging of the daughter's fiancee, this movie is full of caricatures and isn't afraid to start the fun poking at the country of its birth. From the tinted scenes of every famous landmark in Paris, the audience is warned that what is coming may not be a reflection of reality.
We enjoyed recognising scenes from Montmartre that we have so recently walked and the way so many famous artists, writers and costume designers from past eras flickered across the screen. Willow had moments of existentialist crisis motivated by a fear of future mediocrity and Petal went to bed in disgust and missed Salvador Dali's Rhinoceros - she used to be a huge fan of surrealism. Perhaps the genre in film requires more years under the belt.

Woody Allen's driving thought presented itself near the end where obsession of an imagined golden time was chosen instead of love.  The reasoned words from the self actualising main character were "That's what the present is. It's a little unsatisfying because life is unsatisfying."  Mr Allen seems to be a discontented man.

The giant prat character that we all enjoyed despising was given these lines.
"Nostalgia is denial - denial of the painful present ... the name for this denial is golden age thinking - the erroneous notion that a different time period is better that the one one's living in - it's a flaw in the romantic imagination of those people who find it difficult to cope with the present."

  

Charles Abroad

A huge thank you to Nana for babysitting the fifth member of our family for so long and to Leelee for helping her let go when Jetpets arrived to take Charles away.

Charlie's canine buddies.

Matching outfits for the big send off.

Once advised that Charlie had been picked up and the time of his scheduled departure we all got a bit quiet and tense. All the paper work was in order, family sent photos of how friendly the handler was and we saw that he had his little blue coat on so he wouldn't freeze. Yet it still niggled in all our heads that something may go wrong.  Why didn't we just let Nana have him for two years? Selfishly we looked forward to having him woofling around Cambridge.

Aunty Leelee says - friends saying goodbye
at the departure gate

Dog customs? I didn't pack any smackos!

Signing off those precious original papers!

Do I really have to be in my bed now - it's still light.

Off to the airport Hotel

The day of his landing arrived.

We rang Animal Reception at Heathrow and were told that his plane had been delayed and that because so many animals were coming through the centre that day there was a four hour lag between arrival and pick up. We adjusted our plans and checked flight tracker so watch QF1 circling and finally landing.

Driving/parking on the M25 slowed us down so we thought we were late getting there, a bank holiday weekend ensured that there was lots of traffic.

After ringing the bell in the reception area a lady came out and asked us who we were. Upon hearing that we were Charlie's owners she asked us if we had the original paperwork, and that the copies she had wouldn't do. I immediately panicked thinking that I had somehow not bought the right papers because all I had bought were the numbers from Jet Pets and my Passport. I think I said very loudly "He is alright isn't he!" and was immediately assured that he was but that he couldn't be released without the correct paperwork. I was asked again if I had the original paperwork then I started to get cross. (The following recount is minus the fluster and stammering that actually occurred!)
"No we only ever had scanned copies and I was told all I needed was this sheet from Jets Pets and my Passport" She pushed away the paper I was waving in her face and replied,
"I don't know who Jet pets are - they have nothing to do with us, we can't let him go without the original paperwork."
Suddenly through the haze in my head and just before I asserted that I wouldn't be leaving without him and would jolly well come in and get him, I heard  Michael say "The paperwork was sent with him."
She replied "Oh yes I know, but Qantas have lost them."
How did she expect us to have the originals when she knew they had been lost by Qantas? All I can think is that they were so very busy, just one more emotional owner turned her thoughts to fruit salad. She then told us that a representative from the carrier firm would come and explain what needed to happen and disappeared behind the one way mirror doors.
The carrier representative came out asking for Cherry in a very calm and measured tone, he'd obviously been informed to deal carefully with the mental owner out front. He explained that the paperwork was missing and that Qantas accepted full responsibility and was paying for a vet to come out and authorise the copied paper work and sign off on a Euro pet passport that Qantas would pay for and then Charlie could be released. BUT the vet couldn't be here for 2-3 hours.

Old magazines, ipods and the antics of both owners and pets picking up entertained us until just after five a bloke in a checked shirt with a big black medical bag turned up.  A couple of false alarms later little Charles bounded out the door and into our arms - he snuffled around all of us but was just as excited to get outside and feel grass on his nose and toes.

Straining to get to the girls.

Still on the carer's lead but back into Peatle's arms.

Getting his new lead on.

On the M25 to Watford at last.

 Nobody asked to see my passport.

We got Charlie in the car and into his new nest - he immediately went into travel mode and hunched down in the corner with his head resting on Petal's arm - he didn't move until he got out of the car at Watford.
He and Chester and Lulu soon nosed around each other, they shared their tea and toys and squirrel tree very amicably.  Lulu watched with great interest as Charlie had his bath, the cucumber and melon scent must have attracted her!

Lulu, I can see you better if you back off a bit.

Chester kindly shared his Tiger

New raincoat - off on my first walk.

Back in the car to go home everyone was very tired and glad that the day was nearly done. Charles used the lawn on arrival and tripped up and down the stairs sussing out his new territory.  He popped up to say hi to Nana when he heard her voice on skype and settled down to sleep in his new bed with a great sigh.

He bounced all over me at 4:30 in the morning and happily sniffed around outside doing his business, he settled in Petal's room for a few minutes then demanded to be let under my duvet - I gave in.

He has had three walks today, one to try out his new raincoat, another with Dad and another to investigate the space around the house. He left a little parcel next to another dogs story in a neighbours garden - just a calling card. Hehe.

Can't wait to see Nana again in a few weeks. xx Charlie

Hampton Court and Portobello Rd

To distract ourselves from contemplating Charlie's ordeal (read next blog for explanation) we decided to go to London for a day of being tourists. Unfortunately the Warner bros. Potter Tour was fully booked until school goes back and the cheap $6 rail tickets from Cambridge to London have to be booked 6 weeks in advance, with only a limited number available.

Premier red carpet shot in the Metro - a paper found on the train.
They don't look too different here to the cardboard cut outs at Coles. image from : http://metro.co.uk

The train from Waterloo station to Hampton Court has to be the slowest we've ever been on - nearly two hours of our life oozing between all stations to and from. The Metro paper we found lying in the carriage was full of One Direction film premiers and engagements - if you listened closely enough you could hear the breaking hearts in every suburb we chugged through. At least it kept us distracted from the mindless moaning about multiple castle visits on their holiday by several teens in a family experiencing the same trauma behind us.

Entrance to Base Court

The unicorn is wondering: is your dress up to court standards?

Hampton Court was a hunting lodge turned Cardinal Wolsey's show home. Wolsey had it taken from him after failing to secure the Pope's cooperation in the dissolution of Henry VIII's marriage to his brother Arthur's widow. Historians have recently discovered that Anne Boleyn - who was in line to replace the daughter only bearing Katherine of Aragon - was a great respecter of Henry's rival's, Francois I of France, sister, Marguerite of Navarre. She was a strong advocate for her reformation theology after possibly serving her as a waiting woman across the channel. All the pieces fitting together. Anne lost her head before she was able to inhabit the Queen's quarters Henry was having built for her, he demanded all her badges removed but one intertwined H and A still remains in the carving around the Great Hall.

Now that Henry possessed the Palace on the Thames, at a handy distance from London and the breakouts of disease he so detested, he set about making it an appropriate guest residence for his favourites.  He added massive kitchens to ensure that his guests would be impressed by the huge joints of roasted meat. His only son was born here and Jane Seymour died ten days later but an idealised family portrait painted long after still shows her as the royal mother. Catherine Howard's indiscretions were bought to the King's attention here and she is said to haunt the gallery calling for mercy. Anne of Cleaves lived here for a while after her divorce for being 'uncomely'.

Charcoal stoves - left hole for waste ash, right hole for new
charcoal, put a few peices on the grill under the pot
- the more the hotter you can cook.

8 foot roasting fire - Two large men required to turn.

Dinning hall for visitors

Vegetarian fare on a trencher.

No photos allowed in the chapel either!

A beautiful chapel was built to celebrate the rites of the Church of England of which Henry was the head. Now in his forties he was a bit fat to hunt so he had tennis courts and bowling alleys built. His daughter Elizabeth I added a new kitchen and a coach house. James I had Shakespeare and his fellows entertain him here during his first Christmas as King and the conference that resulted in the official English translation of the Bible was held at Hampton Court. Charles I partied here and collected great works of art - most of which Cromwell 'protected' as he sat in court protecting England after parliament chopped Charles' head off and ran his brother out of the country. The Tudor crown was destroyed but a replica is on display, copied from the background of a painting. It is covered in precious stones and looks very heavy - no photos allowed!

image from :wiki

After the Restoration the last of the Stuarts lived there again but built a Baroque palace within the walls - formal gardens were extended and an orangery was built so the King could have a citrus display just like Louis of France. 

Hampton Court lost the favour of the monarchy but was maintained as a genteel home for courtiers who were widowed or impoverished. Many decades have been spent trying to restore the palace accurately. Food Historians try out old recipes in the kitchen and fabrics have been created to match those recorded in portraits. A large room full of mattresses invites visitors to lie down and watch a surreal video presentation of the Royal bedroom. William III's over-shirt is on display - gorgeous red but so tiny about a ladies size 6. His portable loo - upholstered in red velvet was there too. Only very trustworthy friends could hold the title 'Groom of the Stool'. William III's was the Earl of Albemarle.

Odd things happened in royal bedchambers,
even babies smuggled into birthing beds
inside warming pans!

Get that republican off the throne!

Listening to the audio in the watching chamber.
The doors behind petal used to lead to Henry VIII's private suite.
People invited to Hampton Court used to wait hopefully in this long
gold ceiling hall to ask for favours and legal intervention from the King.
The passed the time playing board games and gossiping very quietly.
All stood and bowed when the King entered.

The Great Hall.  The Royal table has replica pewter table ware. The stained glass windows nearly emptied the treasury.

With our heads bursting we left to try and get to Portobello Rd before leaving London. This meant getting down to the Waterloo tube station and taking the northern line to Tottenham Court then the central to Notting Hill Gate. Popping up from the tube the first thing we saw was a Jamie Oliver Restaurant the girls tried to hurry me away in disgust. 
We were heading for the original Hummingbird Cafe - author of a favourite dessert cook book. It was close to closing time and the girls had to be hustled out of very interesting little stores all the way down the road. A whole day visit here in the near future we think! 

The store was open, red velvet, carrot and chocolate cookie top cupcakes were purchased - plus the latest recipe book.  Good to know that our visit gave a friend some cuisine cred with a workmate the next day!

So many stores - Walk down hill from Notting Hill Gate Station but up hill to get back!

 No whoppie pie recipes in the new book :(

The trek home was long and included a stop off at Costco to get chairs for the study so the girls could have their Ikea ones back. At least we weren't worrying about Charlie all day long.

Disappointments and Delights at St Nazarie

image from : http://visit-saint-nazaire.com/

A couple of misadventures from using an online booking site for accommodation have made me mistrust and unsubscribe this service. The biggest disappointment was at St Nazarie. The sited map showed the place to be a couple of streets back from the beach while in reality it was several 2 laned roundabouts back from the beach- not a pleasant stroll! They said the offer was for superior rooms but it wasn't. The final straw was being desperate for a cuppa after a long day of driving and not being able to get one. I have since bought a travel kettle which will accompany every trip to the continent from now on. The pool was small and cold and the food average at best.

We arrived after the kitchen closed so went for a drive to find a take away place so we could have frites on the plage for tea. All down the whole length of the beach houses had their shutters up, there were a couple of people with their kids, a couple of police cars, one bar open and a churros van on the promenade. We drove around and found a lock into a small harbour and a row of eateries facing it. We chose an american burger place - one guy on the grill and a packed restaurant meant we really enjoyed the food by the time our name was called.  We watched the bridge go up a couple of times and wondered if the huge concrete structures around he edge of the harbour were submarine bunkers.

Lock to the right let in little fishing boats as we ate our chippies. Sub pens to the left and ship yards opposite.

A brochure back at the hotel offered une experience inoubliable at the Base Sous-Marine. We thought in English this means an unforgettable experience at the submarine base. The next day two of us went off to Escal' Atlantic L'adventure ds paquebots (something about Adventures on Cruise ships). As you can tell by my lame interpretation of the French - the girls were not interested.  They chose to lie around by the pool and ended up by having to entertain a 3yr old keen to talk to them - so much for the handsome flirty French boyfriends. Mind you the little men start young because he fed the girls all his family's sweet, sweet strawberries each time one of his conversations was attended and satisfactorily replied to.

Meanwhile we went to perhaps the best maritime interactive museum ever. An Atlantic cruise ship was built in one of the submarine bays and used enormous screens and collections of furniture and fittings from decommissioned boats to take us on a tour of a typical liner from the 50s. Standing on the stern deck the sound of rushing water and a slight breeze, with real water being pumped like a wake below and a massive screen showing a presenttion of a ship wake with a full moon made it all feel very realistic.  At the end of the tour of the kitchens, steerage (emigrants quarters) and Premier class, engine rooms and wheel house and a film presentation of French line History, we were lowered off the 'ship' on a lifeboat and sortied out to the shop. Although photography was not allowed a U tube film has allowed me to sneak some stills.  images from :  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIWBDxNBHRM

Looking out from the stern.

Captain on the bridge.

On top of the sub bunkers the council has set out posters of the towns history and what they hope to do in the future. The port has always been the centre of the town where it's traditional craft has been cruise liner building. WWII is responsible for the sub pens and much of what happened there was banned from the Media by W.Churchill for the sake of British morale. St Nazarie was an evacuation point like Dunkirk, later the Nazis sunk an allied ship, Lancastria, off the coast taking 4000 lives down with it.  It was the single biggest maritime loss of life in UK history.  A small monument has been built facing out to sea to commemorate this event. The U-boat pens were built over a couple of years and have 3m thick concrete reinforced ceilings.The allies sent in 600 Commandos with an old US boat full of explosives.  They blew it up in the lock to stop the U-boats getting in and out. Only 200 of the men made it back to the UK, 300ish were captured and kept as prisoners of war for the the duration and the rest died. U-boats were still able to operate from the pens as they had another exit so the allies dropped leaflets to the civilians for three days telling them to get out of the town as they were going to fire it to the ground. The idea was to stop supply chains to the base and take all the accommodation away. Three days later St Nazarie was flattened.  It was the last town in Europe to be liberated after Germany's surrender. It was rebuilt to be functional in the 40's, only little Havana and the docks are as they were before.

Inside the pens

Roof of the pens.

Back of the pens - now housing a dance club, a modern art gallery and the museum - still plenty of space for other ideas!

This ugly little port town is slowly reshaping itself along modern lines thanks to the extra population from the Air bus factory at the end of the docks.  The neighboring town and beach of La Baule is a much nicer place to stay. M found the Opinel knife he wanted to buy there. The long beach is lined with apartments and the shops are beachy. Watch out for the little old lady who likes to side swipe people as they parallel park then take off even though she leaves all the trim from one side of her car on the road. Luckily the beamer wasn't damaged. Several locals walked out on the street shaking their heads as she zoomed off.

Premier Swim in the Atlantic

Storm clouds are coming - time to dry off.

Just sitting here brushing sand off my feet
when a big plopper lands on my knee!
Curse gigantic Atlantic gulls.

The poopetrator.

A Refuge for Old daVinci

"The heart. Marvellous instrument, invented by the Supreme Master.
This moves itself and does not stop unless forever."
image from wikipedia.

Not too many people can expect to have royal apartments provided for them on their retirement, luckily for Leonardo, the King of France admired him so much that when the Medicis of Florence and the Borgias of Rome demanded more from his military designs than he was prepared to 'make real', he was able to cross the Alps at 67yrs old and find a warm welcome.

Francois I was the arch nemesis of Henry VIII winning back Aquantaine and Normandy back from the English for France. He also fought many battles in Italy against the Spanish and corrupt Pope. He had been bought up by his mother at Clos Luce and offered apartments here to Leonardo. His sister, Marguerite of Navarre was a remarkable woman (read about her political, religious and literary works-http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marguerite_de_Navarre ) and retired, after the divorce from her second husband and death of her baby son, to Clos Luce.

Passage to the Chateau?

Chateau Amboise in the distance

Francois I resided as King at Chateau Amboise which legend says was connected to Clos Luce by a secret passage. Through this passage, Francois would regularly visit Leonardo. Although daVinci designed Chateaus, festivals - including a mechanical Lion whose chest opened to reveal a bunch of lillies and gave military advice, Francois seems to have esteemed him more as a confidant and philosopher. "I do not wish to forget to report the words I heard say of him by King Francois I: ... He could never believe that any other man had lived on this earth who knew as much as Leonardo in the spheres of painting, sculpture and architechture, but still more that he was a very great philosopher." Benvenuto Cellini.

In this 'retirement', Leonardo also finished painting the Mona Lisa and St John the Baptist which are now National treasures of France.  He received a generous allowance from the King so was able to pay his apprentices and attendants who had accompanied him from Italy. The climate in the Loire valley allowed a beautiful garden and the height of the Clos Luce provides beautiful views down the river valley. The last three years of Leonardo's life were possibly the most comfortable and peaceful of his life.

Front courtyard of Clos Luce

daVinci's last bedroom

Today Clos Luce is a museum that maintains beautiful grounds and strives to recreate daVinci's engineering designs. The chapel he worshiped in, the bed he died in, the rooms he worked in through the last years are maintained for display and his 'wise words' are quoted around all the passageways - in French. This visit was one of the highlights of our trip.

Clockwork  'car' and first bike?

Toy Model of daVinci's tank drawn for the Prince of Milan.
The design had small canons pointing out of the pipe holes
around the side and grinders inside for men to turn the wheels
and a lookout at the top.

"I am a Genius" - no further comment necessary!

Chantelisa?

We stayed the night in a B&B in a little village several km out of Amboise. The delightful surprise was the Chef, we had the best food here on our whole trip. We had Lamb with a garlic tomato and a mustardish sauce with a polenta cake, a steak and an anise-carrot mousse and duck with local fungi and caramelised pear - Yum! The fig creme and rose sorbet were also fabulous. The place was called Auberge da la Treille at Saint-Martin-le-Beau.

Rose sorbet, baked grapefruit.

Brulee Figs with a pot of creme

Hotel la Treille

Sunny morning outside the Patisserie

We decided to buy some filled baguette from a local patisserie the following morning and meet a lady who was born in Seddon, bought up in Blenheim and was now living in France. Having just heard about the quake in Seddon we had quite a long conversation. She wore a Maori bone carving on her necklace which is what began the conversation. She also offered to order for me as Willow was outside soaking up the sun. As we waited a very large dog waltzed into the bakery, snuffled about behind the counter licking up crumbs, went out to the kitchen and had a conversation with the resident spaniel before being shooed out by the Spaniel's owner.

We instructed the GPS not to go on motorways and arrived in a village with very narrow streets and a crumpled Chateau. We ended up eating at a picnic table by a little stream. After several more tiny villages and postcard perfect farmhouses with rows of crops, including marigolds at one place, we swapped back to the toll roads and headed for the Bay of Biscay.

Chateau Marcilly-sur-Maulne 

Our photo check out this site for info http://www.chateau-de-marcilly.com/

The Village of Marcilly-sur-Maulne - image thanks to google maps, a very comfy way of travelling the countryside.