The Joy to be found in Small

I have the blessing of having a mother who is a sunshine talker.
Her wonder in little things and ability to catch delight in moments of beauty keep her glowing as she travels through the tough spots in life.

Her great respect for truth and a rock crushing honesty ensure that she doesn't float off into Neverland.  This would seem to be an impossible parallel to live by yet has made her into one of the most productive and energetic people I have ever known.
I remember staring at my self in the mirror in my early teens. Being impressed with the colour of my hair as the sun bounced off it and the luminosity of my eyes, I was prompted to say, 'You know mum I think I could be quite beautiful.' She thoughtfully stood beside me with her head sparrow like on the side and replied with, 'May be handsome (in best Austin tradition) sweetheart but probably not beautiful.' The brutal honesty was a shock to us both I think but in the laughter I acknowledged the hit which relieved me from years of self deception.  It also made her reassurances of the things she thought remarkable in me more believable when self doubt of teens and twenty's scrambled for a foot hold.

She has never been 'cool' or laid back, her enthusiasm for ideas and connections is too strong. She cares little about what other people think of her. Having our mouths washed out for swearing was not because she thought we may embarrass her one day or of her unthinking support of any cultural rules but because swearing is lazy talk and ugly. She drilled into me that ice cream is the only food that may be eaten while walking anywhere because innocent pedestrians shouldn't be exposed to the car crash in your mouth as you take another bite.  Once again the motivation which may be seen as pure snobbery is really only to avoid the ugly.

Roadside garden in Ashby

In her last visit to us she had my eldest daughter climbing through the front yard of a stranger's house in the twilight because she had spotted something in their garden. The torch was held high so that she could take a photo of the huge flower on a Fruit Salad plant.  The owners peered disbelieving at them through their front window as they carefully made their way back to the foot path and mum couldn't have cared less.   She had found beauty and wonder and recorded it for future 'ahs'.

No matter what anxiety or hopelessness she may be feeling she always stays open to the beauty around her. The sky in all its many shades is enough to turn the 'Ooh dear' to the 'Ah wow! She is enthralled by the ladybird on her roses, the magpie chorus in the morning, curl of a petal on a weed, the soft black nose of a bellowing calf.  Watching a willy wagtail skim our pool for bugs, a cat rolling on the concrete to get rid of an itch, the turn of phrase from a witty grand daughter and the timely observations from another are pure joy.

Simultaneously the scowls of sulking or temper were tickled out of us because she would not tolerate the ugly sounds of negative talk and the bangings of stomping feet.

She sees the complexity and beauty of the Creator in the little things.
The leap of her heart and sparkle of her eyes light up our days.

This gift of finding light and delight in the millions of little bits in and around life is precious and a true antidote for the glums from expectations, disappointment, fear and loathing that can poison our time here on Earth.
"Let the sunshine in, face it with a grin, open up your heart and let the Son shine in."

Thanks Mum, xx

Just Watched: An Unexpected Journey - P.Jackson's 1st installment of The Hobbit by Tolkien.
"Sarumun believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check.  But that is not what I have found.  I've found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay.  Simple acts of kindness and love."  Gandalf to Lady Galadriel (This scene is not in 'The Hobbit')

Out to Ashby

Leaving Ely, we headed west towards Ashby Castle. M was not hopeful that I would be able use the new road atlas of the UK that we had just bought. Luckily he found a function on his GPS that could navigate and ignore the motorways.

We crossed canals, bogs and rolling green pastures. The later were full of gigantic agricultural machines doing the things farmers have always done in spring.

Ashby de la Zouch is the town that surrounds the castle. Ashby(Danish invader) means place of the Ash trees and the Zouch chappy(Norman invader with Will the conquerer) came and married the daughter(de Beaumaris) of Ashby manor. So now the town was Ashby of the Zouch, it stayed like this until the first Zouch's great nephew died heirless and King Ed in 1464 gave the property to Lord William Hastings. He built it into a castle sending himself broke doing it. After King Charles' defeat at Naseby a couple of generations later, the royalists fled to Ashby and the Roundheads laid siege for year or so eventually letting the owners surrender and walk free after a bout of plague. The main tower of the castle was then blown up with a significant amount of gunpowder and was never repaired. Upon the restoration, the loyal Lord Hastings was made an Earl and built a manor next to the ruins. So although there are Ashby fish shops, Ashby hairdressers, Ashby realtors, Ashby lawyers and doctors there are no wealthy relatives waiting for a lost branch of the family tree to turn up. Nor, it seems, were there ever any Ashbys actually living in any kind of fancy house at this site. Never fear, there are five other major Ashby locations listed in the road atlas.

Reading: the altas and lots of tourist brochures.

Yes my Liege

Ruined

Bon's Place at Ashby

Special parking for family

It's all about me

Side blasted out by Cromwell's troops

Taunting the Roundheads

Locked up in the tower

Isle of Ely

Looking at the map I couldn't work out why Ely was called an Isle, there are plenty of lakes around the Fens but I was expecting at least a giant moat on the approach from Cambridge. After an instructive video about the draining of the Fens I now know why.

The latest Fen Technology

We passed a sign for the 'Maize Maze' on the way and this wouldn't have been possible without generations of Brits and Dutchmen using the latest technology available to turn swamp into fertile plains. No wonder by the time they got to Christchurch they knew what to do. The Duke of Bedford hired Dutch ditch diggers in the 1600s after a failed Medieval attempt in the 1400s. The local populace revolted because he promised a third of the reclaimed land to the Dutch if they succeeded. The locals liked splashing around with the ducks and had worked out how to live a fairly free and easy life in a large place that nobody else wanted. In the 1700s windmills were introduced to pump out the water because the drained peat had shrunk along way beneath the banks of the drains and many men spent their entire lives dredging the water ways. The industrial era saw steam pumps introduced and there was even a poem written to celebrate the flood being fought by a form of itself.

Ely was built on a patch of high land in the middle of the Fens(swamp). The Cathedral is built on the highest part of this patch and its spires stand above every other building. The ceiling paintings are amazing, they were replaced by two Victorian artists after the cleansing of the idolators at the time of Henry's dissolution of the monasteries etc.

We went to Evensong in the Ladies Chapel. It had been completely stripped of all its murals and stained glass during the dissolution as it was a shrine to the 'Queen of Heaven'. Businesses are named along lower panes of new windows that have contributed to the refurbishing of the chapel. There is now a covered and beautifully glassed passage from the main church to the chapel, the stained glass has begun to be replaced and there is a very modern looking altar and sculpture of Mary up the front. She must have been made in the 70's for she has long flicked back Farrah Fawcett type yellow hair and is posed with her hips thrust out, hands up in a bit of a disco move and has an expression of dazed ecstasy. She has on a bright blue Lady Macbeth number with a golden girdle though not solid gold dancing pants. Above her are ceiling paintings of red roses and in the centre is a little bright blue dragon - obviously the cleansers couldn't reach that high.

Cromwell's Tudor House

Front tower of Ely Cathedral

Evensong was sung by the choir and the priests and was quite beautiful. One piece, the Magnificant(not a sp error!) was exceptional. The old chants and tunes are timed to perfectly take advantage of the echoes in these old stone chambers, just as a note dyed away the next phrase would begin. The counterpoint trills and melodies between the four groups of voices was exquisite, maybe the choir was practicing this piece when sculptor was working on Mary's face!

A house that Oliver Cromwell inherited and lived in for some years had a museum in it and St Mary's church on its doorstep. Here he became an MP and started down the political, religious trail that would end with his body being exhumed, hung and beheaded when the Stuarts were restored to the Kingdom.

Roundhead OHS equipment for low doorways

The Museum was very pro Cromwell and celebrated all the good things he did(including draining the Fens). They argued that although he and his family didn't celebrate Christmas because it was a pagan renewal and people lost all self discipline and godly behaviour during the 12 days of celebration, that is was Parliament, not him as Lord Protector head of Parliament, that banned Christmas in England. At the beginning he fought for an economic policy to ensure the equal share of wealth amongst England's citizens and freedom of beliefs. The Jews were allowed back in and even thought the Roman Catholics were frowned upon with their extravagant fripperies they weren't persecuted. Unfortunately the round heads sapped the joy from the kingdom, corruption rose its ugly head and after Cromwell's son Richard was forced to abdicate(no really they didn't accept the crown!) the Stuart's were once again on the throne. Lace was back in style and all the shiny statues that had been hidden away were polished up and put back into the churches.

It is 7:30 in the morning and bells from various churches have been dinging away for the last hour or so in fits and spurts - no need for the wake up call offered by 'The Lamb'. The rooms are above the old stables and twist around through narrow corridors as they mirror the floor plan below. We (Michael would say I, since I was leading) got lost. At the end of the last corridor was room 12 and we had a key for 14. There was no 13 and we had missed a little hallway and step way back that led to rms. 14 - 16. After creaking though tight twists and turns we finally found the room dumped our stuff and went out to stroll around this Cathedral town.

Reading Now: A Little History of the World by E.H.Gombrich, son of the author of 'The Story of Art'
About 10 pages on different major periods of History. He begins with prehistory.
"Just so that 'Once upon a time' doesn't keep dragging us back down to the bottomless well, from now on we'll always shout: 'Stop! When did that happen?' And if we also ask, 'And how exactly did that happen?' we will be asking about history. Not just a story, but our story, the story that we call the history of the world." p4

A miracle ? - St Cherry?

Rock and Roll in Cambridge

A really corny title today! We have been staying in a flat on Rock Rd and will leave today to 'Roll' up to Ely.
That's it - no more sophisticated allusion. At least I didn't use 'Lock and load' which apart from being in the wrong order for this reference could have fitted too.
35 Rock Rd
This 3bed flat with two bathrooms, good kitchen and a spacious reception room at the top of a slippery sucker of a spiral staircase (the bruise above my elbow that is evidence of my arm saving me from a death plunge thanks to possum socks on the slippery metal surface is fading) has been great. The owners live next door and cleaned while we were away last weekend and have let us stay today until 2pm because their next guests don't arrive until next week. A little home away from home with buses and all the necessaries at the top of the road. (Contact Paul at info@35rockroad.co.uk to book a stay or have a look at www.35rockroad.co.uk)
Will add a photo soon.

Obviously I have been reading too many real estate papers and websites. All the scouring of these publications, map reading, emailing, calling on my 20 pound mobile from the dining rm table has paid off though because we have secured an address in the school catchment of choice. Signing up etc will be the last thing we do before rolling out of Cambridge this afternoon. I think discovering little things here has been so much more enjoyable with the looking forward to sharing them with others in the future.

I heard Cambridge referred to as the cycle capital of the UK yesterday but I think that is where the comparison to Amsterdam ends - they are the 'Sex, Drugs' capital of Europe but Cambridge might be the 'Stone'n'roll' capital - ouch, that's really corny. The stone buildings here are really very beautiful. Perhaps Cambridge could be called the Stone, Meds(the many science parks have lots of drug and medical research companies) and Choir'n'roll centre of the UK. Okay I'll stop the pain and will cease trying to justify the title of this blog now.

Lunch yesterday was at the 'Cafe Rouge'. It had the look and feel of a cosy English Pub but the menu of a wonderful French Cafe. I saw one in London so the set menu must be a franchise. I absolutely recommend the cheese soufflé - spectacular. A wedge of Brie was all melty in the centre of a perfectly seasoned, fluffy golden mound. The seeded salad was dressed beautifully, its sweet acidic crunch was the perfect accompaniment. The desert menu listed Creme Brûlée which may be lunch today! Poor Michael, I think he had a sandwich.

Best and worst of Cambridge eats so far:
Cafe Rouge 5/5 - see above.
St George 4/5 - best onion rings, Michael likes a pastry bottom to his pies, not so sloppy to eat.
Byron's Proper Burgers 4/5 great burger, very clean, Michael liked their root beer.
Cafe Paris 4/5 - best coffee here, great baguette.
Tatties 3/5 - but to be fair I didn't have their specialty - jackets potato with a variety of fillings, the fav being baked beans.
Fish'n'chick 3/5 - UK chain to rival Maccas? Pork battered sausage, good batter, good hand cut chips, pretty average mushy peas but they do offer a curry sauce, vinegar and kids club.
Italian across from the Grand arcade 3/5 - nice hot ravioli, spinach ricotta filling a bit gritty, sauce was good but the head waiter was a sleazy old Italian really hassling one of the young student waitresses 'Are you a lesbian? Don't you like older men? etc. When the girl came to clear my dish I said to her that he's not allowed to hassle you like that, complain or get another job.
John Lewis bistro 2/5 - limited choice, really cold egg salad roll, no seasoning, stodgy bread, didn't even finish it. Good cup of tea.

Walking to check out the Leisure Centre to see if they run squads for the girls I saw the scene below. The irony is that they were obviously on a break, so the danger to themselves or to the public(unsure about the meaning there) was not evident.

Finished reading: Garden of Light
An interesting tale of a philosopher artist from whom no art or writings survive. A oral record recorded this teaching from him, "The Light that is within you is fed by beauty and knowledge. See to it that you nourish it ceaselessly, do not be content to stuff your body. Your senses are conceived to gather up beauty, to touch it, breathe it, taste it, listen to it, gaze upon it. Your senses are distillers of Light, offer them perfumes, music, colours, spare them foul odours, harsh cries and filth." p80

When Mani went to an audience with the Sassanian King stewards called this advice to people waiting for an audience, "Men, may your tongues take care to preserve your heads, your master is among you." p136

How to save on telegraph poles - Cherry Hinton Rd

Employment opportunities?

Local Lingo and Verbalities

Things heard regularly wandering around Cambridge. These were not heard used by the teachers, bankers, estate agents or Michael's work colleagues I have been in contact with.

1. Hiya - this is the common greeting used between locals who are familiar with one another. ie - bus drivers, or minimart(the local to where we are staying is called 'Sparklemart' and has a length of the neon Christmas lights wrapped awkwardly around the name) owners and regular customers. (said with an upward lilt)
Meaning - hello you

2. Not a bob'o'bother - heard by shop assistants to customers. (run together so that the alliteration and assonance almost drown out the remainder, took a while to interpret this one) Meaning - no trouble (a bob being a pound, which means that it may have originally meant that it was a some effort but not wasted?)

3. All righ'dearie - this only heard in 'Valerie's Passtiere'. All the waitresses are EU students, I had to repeat myself 2-3 times when there for a coffee, obviously my antipodean accent made my English harder for them to understand. This was a set phrase that the three girls used to all the female customers. Sitting alone in a busy restaurant without a book ensures minute aural observations. Someone must have told them that 'Mrs' is not an appropriate address for them to use so they have adopted this slightly patronising term, with their enthusiasm and high pitch is was really only funny. When a tourist of the same origin arrived they chatted away in their own lingo without a dearie in hearing.
Meaning - are you happy? Do you have what you need? Would you like to sit here? (A very versatile phrase)

4. Lettings
Meaning - rental accommodation.

5. Reception rooms
Meanings - lounge, sitting room, dinning room, anywhere a guest may be entertained.

6. River folk - not heard by locals but used by Kevin on the TV show Grand Designs after our walk down the river.
Meaning - those that have renounced regular permanent accommodation and choose to make their wandering homes in a canal boat. Related to the term - circus folk.

7. Rising Bollards - (not a nasty disease of one's lower regions) traffic controls that separate the optimistic from the pessimistic.  Do you take the quick route and hope they are down or a long detour to avoid disappointment.  Surely there is a black market for the lowering transmitter that all buses and taxis have.

There are always large groups of tourists or school groups enthusing vocally in their own language with their own patterns of gestures, the Cambridgians(we're not actually sure what people who call Cambridge home call themselves but Michael came up with this term) completely ignore them until addressed personally in attempted English when they normally reply with "what you want is ...."

Another hilarious experience I have had, observed but didn't realise how commonplace it was until reading a comic called 'How to be British' in the Fitzwilliam Museum, is the complex and over detailed giving of directions. When I asked where the public toilets were of a shop assistant in Boots(a chemist not a shoe shop) I received a very long explanation complete with hints about the usefulness of various landmark stores I'd be passing etc. not at all useful for someone without an intimate familiarity of the place.

Finished reading: Death at Pemberley. Not a very good mystery but her interpretation of the Austin characters improved through the book. Wickham got his ninth life and she managed to allude to several other Austin novels in the dovetailing of clue explanations.

Now Reading: The Gardens of Light by Amin Maalouf an illumination of Manicheanism in novel form.
'Let's admit that I hid some things from you, but I told no lies. If I saw a blossom in bud on this plum tree and said, "Here is a plum," would I be lying? Not at all. I would simply have anticipated the truth by one season." ' p 41

"...time is merely the cask in which myths mature..." p43

Jesus beside the River Cam

Jesus College is not on the river but spreads its name wide. I had a disappointing Eggs Benedict (the brioche is was served on was very sweet) on Jesus lane for lunch and Jesus Green is a large common area that runs along the river.

After work it was still warm(15 degrees) and sunny so we went for a walk along the River Cam.

We started at a tall brick chimney belonging to the Museum of Technology that was once a factory and relic of the Industrial Age. There are Museums everywhere here. On one street, in the centre, I passed the Museums of Geology, Archaeology and one for Anthropology. A product of the Victorian age when colonisation brought treasures to be studied back to the Colleges in England.

There are bike lanes down beside the river so lots of joggers were out, on the river several rowing teams passed by with the cox calling instructions for their posture and strokes. Two female eights and one male one plus a few pairs and singles went east as we walked west. The river isn't very wide, we wondered how they would pass each other.

Swans and mallards drift along and the south bank is lined with canal boats. Those knowing of Michael's feelings towards circus folk may imagine the conflict in his soul as he looked at these boats with many of the owners sitting up on deck basking in the sun. A few of the boats were very flash with solar cells, generators, stained glass ceiling windows and impressive paint jobs, the conclusion made was that these belonged to retired Yuppies. After inspecting the lock and weir he suggested mum's desire for a canal boat holiday wasn't a bad one.

The Jesus Green makes the river accessible to the public on the south side whereas the north is lined with boat houses, Pubs and houses with mooring bays cut into their backyards. One block of apartments had many moorings and was called 'the Marina'. All along the river path are very narrow gates and meter wide pits with metal rollers across them which looked just like cattle grids I jokingly pointed out. The joke was on me because out in Jesus green were a small herd of very happy bullocks. The dogs running around off leash left them alone as they tore up the grass or chewed their cud. The bikes roaring past on the many concrete paths were ignored or had heavy brown heads shaken at them. I guess there must be some ancient grazing rights being asserted, it certainly added to the rural feel of the lumpy grass between the houses and the river. A lap pool lay empty, waiting to be filled in May for use. Its name suggesting baptism rather than laps.

We stopped for dinner at The Saint George pub. The booth we sat in overlooked the river and the radiator behind the wooden seat back was pleasant. The ginger beer Michael had was so gingery it almost hurt to swallow but he was very happy with the sticky date pudding at the end.

As we sat and watched the river we saw some funny sights. A tall guy in his early twenties was tearing down the north bank wearing joggers and a long red dress. Later hoards of runners ran past in a variety of reddish evening wear, both male and female. Apparently it is a jogging club who delight in little oddities to liven up their dreary sport. The canal boat below our window opened and a cat ran out to frolic on the bank and its owner padlocked up the door and we think came into the pub to use the facilities. Nearly every boat had a cat, possibly to keep the river rats out. Across the river was a gym full of rowing machines with its doors wide open to cool down the college boys strengthening up their arms and torsos. As twilight deepened the rowers returned, but in a different order so they must have passed each other somewhere along the river.

The beefies had moved and were leaping around, pressing noses together then kicking up their legs. We walked back to the car quickly to keep warm and to get back to the computer and TV to find out about the Boston bombs that we had heard as breaking news leaving the St George. Somebody really hates marathons.

Sunny Sunday in Brighton

We completed the M25 loop by travelling down to Brighton and back up north through the Dartford tunnel. To go over the Thames on the impressive bridge you have to be going south.

Parking a long way from the shore

Bright houses driving into Brighton

Big yellow signs announcing the Brighton Marathon greeted our arrival but as we very slowly drove through the one lane main road in to the seaside town we saw the barriers being packed up and signs for the road closures listing times past. By the time we finally found a park and walked down to the sea we were in time to see the first finishers. This meant that for the four hours we were in Brighton it took 20mins to get from the promenade to the beach, the pier was packed so we thought we'd leave that thrill for another day.

Deck chairs for hire

Michael was intent on finding a feast of fish'n'chips for lunch. Up in the town we spotted a restaurant called Fishy Fishy, the menu listed mushy peas and their bathroom had poetry on the wall. The cartoons and four-liners were ditties written and illustrated to insult poor George the Prince Regent of the late 1700s(died King in 1830). The smell inside was unbearably fishy so Michael got a table outside in the sun and enjoyed the best Fish and mushy peas ever. The chips and beet root coleslaw were okay too.

The Monsoon store with its beach wear all flimsy and floaty in the window was doing a roaring trade even though everyone still wore their winter coats. I suppose you have to have the summer kit ready to throw on as soon as the warm arrives to make the most of it.

Michael went into a gunsmiths and found out that you can own an air rifle over here once over 18 and without a license. It is considered an Englishmen's right to own a shotgun and although you need a license the council has to prove why you shouldn't have one rather than the other way around. He thinks clay shooting could be good fun.

The Pavilion, built by Prince George as a leisure palace, has the most extraordinary design inside and out. Queen Vic sold the place to build a family retreat on Jersey. Luckily the council of the time bought it and it has slowly been refurbished to its original state. The Regent(so called because his father King George, was mad) delighted in all things oriental and spent well beyond the allowance Parliament contributed to his expenses on hand painted wall paper from China, silver dragons topping enormous chandeliers and Dutch tile lined secret passageways throughout so the servants never had to be seen.

He originally bought a farm house over looking a field where the fishermen dried their nets and turned it into something that would not look out of place in any of the Arabian Nights tales. I agree with Queen Vic that it is odd to have built a place at the seaside where there are no views of the sea. Apparently his biggest joy in daylight hours was riding until he was too corpulent to mount, he much preferred the evening banquets and balls that he lavishly entertained his guests in spectacular surrounds. In later years he had his bedroom shifted to the ground floor because his weight meant that climbing the stairs was awkward and he had a special bed that would raise up at one end to help him to be able to get out. He also had a hidden passage built from his bedroom to the stables so he could go and see his horses and ride without ridicule. The domed stables are now the Brighton Museum and art gallery.

The sun had come out and the streets were filled with people and buskers. The sodden park grounds had brave Brits laying down coats and blankets to sit on and picnic. Squirrels were scampering about and the outside tables of pubs were full. We decided to take the time to cross the marathon track and make it down to the beach before we left.

British optimism abounds, pretty buckets and spades were being sold for kids to make piles of stones - the violent surf hadn't been able to smash the igneous pebbles to sand. Two girls stripped to their undies and went out into the surf with much shrieking as a 'Bondi rescue' guy headed off to save them on his quad, which probably did more damage than it prevented as great rocks flung out from under his back wheels. He wore red and yellow crash helmet, togs and polar fleece.

On our way back north the road south was crammed to a stand still, too much traffic entering the fray from the Dover crossing. We were glad that the students were either too poor to travel away for the Easter break or had all caught the train back because the journey North was clear and quick.

Reading Now: Death comes to Pemberley by PD James.

Death by fried food

A whodunit follow-on to Pride and Prejudice. Michael so enjoyed having it read out loud to him though the slow parts of road works that a sign said should cause delays until 2014. Lacking the gorgeous language of Austin but I couldn't resist a mystery where Wickham gets his just deserts and Georgiana enters the marriage mart.
"Jane realised that being in such close proximity to her mother would not contribute to her husband's comfort or her peace of mind..." p36