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A stroll on the Beach

Friday, December 29th, 2006

Frost on Floatsam

Jack frost was still around when we arrived in Borth for our Christmas break. The sky was clear, so I decided to go for a morning stroll. None of the others joined in. Soon I would know why.

The seaweed along the tide line was coated with frost. Borth is always full of surprises, and this time it was the many goose barnacle remains that were washed up (centre of photograph).

Sea at Borth

Poking around in the floatsam, I soon felt my fingers grow stiff. Although some hardened anglers lined the shore, it was way too cold to stay out for long. With the frost still paving the seawall, I decided to return to the warmth of the open fire back in the house to join the others for tea.
Borth Seawall

We spent the afternoon in Aberystwyth, doing some last-minute shopping. On the way back, we contemplated going for another walk to look for the submerged forest, but the tide was in. Moreover, stormclouds had begun to gather. But then, suddenly, the sun broke through, as if a celestial spotlight had been turned on

Borth: storm clouds

“Oh, that often happens here,” my sister said. “A hole appears in the sky and the sun shines through. Just over Borth, nowhere else.”
Borth Marina

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Jack Frost

Friday, December 22nd, 2006

Tree in Frost

Winter descended suddenly, but stealthily. Yesterday morning, the perpetual fog had crystallised out of the air and dusted every tree and every branch with a thick layer of icing sugar.
Bridge in Frost

I had to go for a walk to take some pictures. Ninety minutes later, my memory card was full and my battery empty.
[read on]

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‘Tis the Season

Tuesday, December 5th, 2006

To return to blogging to go Christmas shopping.

What better location than a traditional Christmas market, situated on the medieval streets of Bath?

Bath Cathedral Christmas Market

During a break in the current monsoon, John invited me to tag along to one of his management meetings, held in a nearby hotel. As we drove through the hills towards the town, Bath—with its many crescents coating the slopes like layers in a cake—presented an amazing sight as the sun poked briefly through the clouds. Alas, by the time I got to the city itself, the clouds had drawn back in.

That didn’t matter much, because a traditional Christmas market was in town. Among the many rows of quaint wooden huts, there was the ‘Raincheck Bar’ serving mulled wine and plum strudel, bratwurst and Stollen. Aside from the German influence, there also was a British organic sausage ‘n’ Burgers stall and an Austrian retro-bar serving hot Goulash soup and shots of ethnic Schnaps.

It left precious little time for shopping.

Christmas Street Scene

Shopping was my excuse for being here in the first place. I mean, how can I get any writing done when I have Christmas shopping to do? There are only 20 days left, you know…

Alas, the display made me wish I had children to buy presents for. The toys, baubles, hand-made garments, picture books etc. were cute to-die-for—but not quite right for my hirsute husband or biker-chick big sis and her squeeze.

I left Bath behind with a warm glow and logged on to Ebay to buy the presents.

Bath Carousel and Roman Baths

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Oxford revisited

Friday, June 16th, 2006

I went to Oxford last week for a memorial service (sorry, no pictures—I have still not got a camera or any news from the insurers for that matter. Anyway, the essence of the place is best captured on a misty autum morning or in winter with the streets nearly deserted and a dusting of frost on the roofs).

I’ve noticed three things:

  • The place turns more into a theme park with every passing year;
  • The students get younger with every passing year;
  • Lots of them were wearing subfusc, so it’s finals time. It’s also the last week of term. That means with the end of exams, the weather will turn lousy again; it always does.

So far, we had the most wonderful June. It’s still lush and green and I’ve got to drag John into the woods when he’s back at the end of the week.

Oh, damn…

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The Beginning of Autum…

Sunday, September 18th, 2005

Today I finally relented and fired up the gas fire in the lounge. The light outside is grey and although the leaves are still green, autum started last weekend when the first trees in the woods began to turn yellow and red.
[read on]

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Thunderbolts and lightning…

Thursday, September 8th, 2005

…very, very frightening!
[read on]

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Pontefract Liquorice Festival

Tuesday, July 12th, 2005

The Pontefract Liquorice Festival, a two day showcase of culinary and artistic delights to do with all things liquorice and Pontefract, is taking place in the Yorkshire town this weekend (16-17 July).

If you have shockwave flash, you can see what it is all about here.

Regretfully, I can’t go (we are moving house soon—again!—and in the meantime have to line up visits to several relatives). I’ll be sad to miss such highlights as the world’s first pork & liquorice pie!

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London 9/7

Sunday, July 10th, 2005

Nobody mentioned the bombs. The papers talked about little else but even though there must have been over thirty of us gathered in New Cross on Friday, no-one talked about the attacks.

On the way home, the streets were perhaps a little quieter than usual. We took the bus from London Bridge: an different route back to our mate’s place, but then he always experiments. The bus dropped us practically on the doorstep and meant we didn’t have to change. I remember thinking that it was a rather neat route before I realised that we had to take it because King’s Cross tube station was closed.
[read on]

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The Most Dangerous Village in Britain

Friday, March 4th, 2005

The Rings of Death that straddle the town centres of both Reading and Basingstoke and the network of multi-lane avenues that leave Marble Arch ‘high and dry on an island in a sea of traffic’—as the Evening Standard put it—are all legacies of the road-building frenzy of the sixties that left great swathes of our green and pleasant land burried under rivers of concrete. So is the A69 which cuts through the Pennines, linking Newcastle with the M6—the main (and only) motorway artery to the North at Carlisle. Here, among the rolling hills, lies the most dangerous village in Britain.

The trans-island-trunk road cuts right through the medieval cluster of stone cottages and manor houses along what might once have been a cobbled street over which horse-drawn carriages trundled. As we rushed through the village, I gleaned from the protest signs which livid residents affixed to their fences that over 14 000 vehicles a day pass through this road, a large proportion of which are HGVs. After 40 years, the locals are still waiting for a bypass.

Today there are more vehicles—and more lorries—than usual because one of the customary accidents has closed the M6 at Lancaster and all traffic to Scotland has been diverted half-way across the Kingdom: along the M1 through the Yorkshire dales and across the Pennines to re-join the M6 at Carlisle, just past the snow-capped Cumbrian Hills. Still, a 2 hour detour beats sitting in a traffic jam for 29 hours, as can happen. From this you will gather that Britain may be a small island, but it pays to travel prepared. We never drive to, or in, Scotland without carrying food, water and a blanket.

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Backpacking with a Removal Van (1)

Sunday, December 19th, 2004

I would never have guessed that moving house at Christmas time would feel just like backpacking.

The chaos, the spontaneity, not knowing where you spend the night or where your next destination will be—it’s all there. Even down to the food poisoning.

True, the choice of destination is restricted to a toss-up whether we’ll spend Christmas in Borth or Tadley and the food poisoning is due to a seasonal bout of gastric flu, rather than exotic bugs. And where we’ll spend the night is determined by when we finally finish packing and loading the van and whether we’ll be snowed in on the way. But still—it feels much the same as being on the road. Without the sun and the scenery, but thankfully also without the touts.

This move is definitely something worth chronicling over the next few days, but because we don’t have internet in the flat yet it may have to wait a bit. In the meantime: Happy holidays! And you Bootsnall party people: I hope you had a great time and recover quickly from your hangovers—there is more to come!

dove.gif

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