Crystal clear*

 

I had breakfast in the bath this morning, which is something I haven’t done very often since moving to our current home twelve years ago.  This is partly because we now have an adequate shower and partly because we no longer live in a house with bathroom and kitchen on the same level, which made the process of making breakfast while the bath was running a less risky affair.  Anyway, whatever; it triggered memories of that former house and former times and, as I lowered my head under the surface and my ears filled up with water it triggered another reminder.  I have been a hearing-aid user for fifteen years. 

 

 

This is probably not an anniversary I expect to celebrate, but it is worthy of some thought and reflection.  I was fifty when I acquired my first analogue hearing aid having requested a hearing check earlier that year.  Unusually (I think) I was one of those people who became aware of my hearing loss before other people started insisting.  My father gradually lost his hearing as he got older and I had strong memories of the period before he succumbed to testing while he insisted that we had all started mumbling.

A lot of people are familiar with the process of having spectacles prescribed and the process of the optician flipping lenses asking which one is better.  Sight correction is a careful and precise art – hearing correction is less so.  The process has been improved by digital hearing aids which can be adjusted to some extent to accommodate the type of hearing loss, but basically a hearing aid is a small loudspeaker positioned behind the ear with a plastic ear-mould inside the ear.  It can take a very long time to get used to a first hearing aid.  To start with the sensation of having a large foreign object in the ear is very pronounced.  It feels like having a bad head cold and can make you feel as if your nose is blocked as well as your ears.  Then the sounds it amplifies are unfiltered by the brain.  Going out from the hushed hearing aid clinic into a busy street feels like a sensory assault and flushing the loo sounds like a waterfall being unleashed from a dam.  In the first year of having my hearing aid I frequently felt so desperate that I took it out and felt it wasn’t helping.  It took a talking-to from one of the audiologists at the clinic to make me persevere with wearing the aid all the time and really start to get the benefit from it.

I now have two digital hearing aids which are programmed to my particular hearing loss, which also have special settings to cope with noisy environments and for listening via loop systems.  I am well used to wearing them from the time I get up until I settle down to sleep at night, but they are not without their problems and difficulties.  Batteries don’t last very long and frequently give up the ghost at inconvenient moments.  Plastic tubing pops out of place and is difficult to realign.  An enthusiastic hug from a friend can cause shrill feedback if my ear is covered.  I try not to think about the time I sleepily removed my hearing aids at night and carefully dropped them into my water glass – not realising until the morning that they had been immersed in water all night. 

The simple fact is that hearing aids don’t replace normal hearing.  Even with the amplification of my aids I need the television louder than other people.  Clarity is lost and I frequently mishear or fail to understand what people say.  I can’t join in desultory chat amongst a group of people making conversation across a room; I can’t “earwig” on conversations in buses and cafes; I have more or less given up trying to listen to my beloved Radio 4 and hardly ever click on video or music links on the computer because the effort of setting up the earphones and taking out the hearing aids to listen rarely seems worth the effort.  Certain voices are more difficult to catch than others.  Children’s voices, for example, are very light and not always clear, so I sometimes miss out on conversation with my grand-children.

 Other people’s attitudes to deafness are very interesting.  I’m not stone deaf, so on the whole I haven’t encountered rudeness or exasperation from people outside the family.  I’ve never been embarrassed by wearing hearing aids and always make people aware that I have hearing difficulty so that they don’t think I’m being rude or ignoring them if I don’t respond appropriately to something they say.   Family and friends are good at asking me where I would prefer to sit in cafes and restaurants and at relaying instructions to me in public places when I can’t hear the speaker.  In domestic situations with my nearest and dearest it’s not always the same story.  I know that it’s not easy communicating with someone who’s hard of hearing.  I had years of trying to make myself understood by my Dad, who could be pretty haphazard in his use of hearing aids and there were definitely times when I gave up and decided the effort of repeating myself just wasn’t worth it.  On the other hand as the deafened person one soon becomes aware of the tutting and rolled eyes of an impatient family member being asked to repeat themself, of the exaggerated raised voice and slow enunciation as if talking to an idiot. I have been known to become upset and angry.  So have they.

Apart from these irritations I think these days that I’m pretty well adjusted to using my aids.  I certainly couldn’t manage without them.   Somehow, though hearing loss isn’t “normalised” in my life.  It’s still a problem and an irritation, something I would prefer not to have to think about and deal with.

*Apparently a fifteenth anniversary is a crystal anniversary

two exhibitions

On Saturday we took our weekend visitors to two local exhibitions.

First up: Drawn at the RWA. The added frisson here was that my talented husband had had a piece of work selected!

Yes that is a red dot! (picture credit Steve Broadway)

It’s a really lovely exhibition showcasing the skill which is the foundation of artistic practice. For me the striking thing about the show is the sheer diversity of artistic expression. I was intrigued by the contrast between artists who employ a few spare lines and those whose pleasure is to render what they see in minute detail. To quote the RWA’s press release: “Far from being a traditional drawing show, works included vary hugely in materials, subject, and style. From iPad life drawings to chalk drawn directly on the RWA gallery floors, from embroidered drawings to flocked screenprints, the works push boundaries, taking drawing to new heights.”  Drawn runs until 2 June and I recommend a visit. 

After a civilised break for coffee, we made our way just down the road to Bristol City Museum where, tucked away on the top floor at the back of the building, is a small but delightful exhibition entitled “Stitching and Thinking”. Starting with samplers of darning and mending from the museum collection, this show then moves on to examine ideas of mending and repair – from the straightforward repair of stitched artefacts to the more costly business of repairing broken hearts.


(Picture credit: Bristol City Museum & Art Gallery)

The discipline of limiting the colour palette to white cloth and red stitching creates a simple and poignant overall effect, which makes it a very appropriate companion to the largely monochrome exhibition of drawing at RWA. There are only a couple more weeks of this lovely exhibition and I’m hoping to get to the final gallery talk on 3 April.

lucky me!

Receiving this bundle of tea-time goodies in the post on Friday morning got the weekend off to a very good start!  I was lucky enough to win Liz's giveaway to celebrate her blog's fifth birthday.  When I first came across the concept of blogging I thought that it seemed a bit egotistical like writing a personal diary with publication in mind.  But I've come to see it in quite a different light.  My own tentative steps into the blogging world were also about five years ago and although I'm by no means prolific and haven't got a vast throng of readers, I've discovered a lovely world of shared interests, supportive online communities, plenty of fun and masses of information and inspiration.  Thanks, Liz!

Sadly the light wasn't good enough to make a decent photograph.  No snow here to intensify the light; just wall-to-wall grey.  That didn't stop us from having an excellent weekend with visiting friends - food, natter, mooching around galleries and shops, reminiscing, laughing, a brisk cold walk round the harbourside, more food; the best kind of weekend.

marmalade (again)

It’s that time of year again; the internet is awash with marmalade posts. So here’s my annual update on the marmalade ritual. In fact I am a little late to the party – largely because the 28 jars I made last year did, in fact, last a full year and we’re only just on the last one!

I didn’t have the energy for another marathon session, so bought a modest bag of Seville oranges from our local greengrocer. We had a similar number in the freezer from 12 months ago and they combined to produce about 1500g. I also had quite a number of lemon “shells” in the freezer, which I save after squeezing as described in this post last year, so they were included in the mix as well.

I noticed that a friend had used Nigella Lawson’s recipe*, which involves boiling the fruit whole.  As I had frozen fruit which would certainly be rather soft and squashy by the time it thawed out, this seemed to be a method that would embrace that characteristic rather than make a problem of it. I found that it worked pretty well. Once the oranges have been cooked and sliced open, it’s very easy to scoop the flesh and pips out leaving softened peel which is easy to chop finely for inclusion in the marmalade.

I used “jam sugar” with added pectin rather than the usual granulated and it reached setting point quite quickly. (The sugar also has added citric acid, so the remainder was delicious on our Shrove Tuesday pancakes!)

Ta dah! Another lovely addition to the store cupboard. Whoever invented marmalade was a genius. I know that my husband will be quietly twitching about the skew-whiffy labels, but  hey – he gets to eat the gorgeous stuff.

*(Having just gone back to that recipe to put the link in, I discover that it's not actually a Nigella recipe, but one posted on her community boards by someone under the alias "chocolate nemesis" so the credit should go to him/her). 

odyssey

We have just come back from seeing an amazing show at the Tobacco Factory Theatre  - Paper Cinema's Odyssey.

We went on the recommendation of our great friend Si, not knowing what to expect, but knowing that he rarely comes up with a duff tipoff.

The publicity describes it thus: “Homer’s Odyssey, a cornerstone of literature, [is] vividly told through beautiful illustration and masterful puppetry. Cinematic projection and cunning tricks transform a suitcase full of cut-out paper puppets into an array of living characters and striking landscapes. A silent film is created before your eyes, set to a captivating live score from exceptional musicians.”

It was quite astonishing and a total delight – a strange fusion of illustration/animation, puppetry and magic lantern show all performed before our very eyes with wit and charm.

i've got a little list

I’m not one of those people who live by lists, making them every day and obsessively ticking things off, (though I live with and admire the productivity of someone who does). But neither could I live a completely list-free life. They definitely have their uses for efficient shopping, planning for events such as Christmas and generally making sure that things get done. When I was still working I had a daily to-do list to keep me on track and more recently I have discovered the beauty of what I can only call an aspirational list.

Three or so years ago I made a list of fifty things to do before I was sixty. You can see it here. It was a mixture of things to do, things to do more of, one off special activities, regular commitments and plans for the future. It wasn’t too prescriptive. It was fun to make and it was fun to do the stuff and interesting to revisit and see how I had got on. Clearly life has moved on; I am now retired and so is Steve, so the shape of our days and weeks has changed significantly. Spending eight weeks “home alone” in the summer while S was off volunteering on Iona made it reassuringly clear to me that I enjoy my quiet domestic existence with its gentle routine of one or two regular activities, friends and family within easy reach, sewing and knitting projects to keep me busy and creative. I am generally content to take things as they come and make it up as I go along, but there is always the danger of drifting, of frittering, of getting to the end of a day, or week and thinking “what have I achieved?” or “why did I spend the day on household tasks instead of something I enjoy?”

So I thought it was time to revisit the List and make some plans. I started by going back to the 50before60 list and merrily crossing off the things that were done and dusted, or that time had told me I was never going to do. Then I added in new plans; nothing huge, nothing too difficult, but little things to make the future look inviting and to help keep me a bit more focused.

This time it seemed helpful to divide the list into general headings.

PLACES TO VISIT OR REVISIT

• Cambridge
• St Ives
• Penzance
• Leeds
• Roseland Peninsula
• Exeter
• Cardiff
• Rye
• Amsterdam/Utrecht
• Ireland
• Venice
• Vancouver

HEALTH/EXERCISE/SPIRITUAL

• More walking – including more of what I did recently and which I would describe as a sort of prayer walk; spending the best part of a day walking in the city, stopping off from time to time to read a passage or a prayer from a book on pilgrimage.
• Reduce weight by 5% - yep, still working on this one!

REGULAR ACTIVITIES

• Singing with a community choir
• Knit and Natter

CREATIVE

• Finish “jewel” quilt (more on this soon)
• More indigo prep: (I love the dyeing, but stitching and preparing fabrics for the dye vat takes ages)
• Finish my mother’s canvas-work rug
• Finish my Kantha quilted scarf
• Complete green cardigan currently on the needles
• Chart and stitch some needlepoint cushions from a design by my daughter to go with some newly re-upholstered chairs which belonged to my grandmother

CULTURE

• More theatre.
• Regular cinema
• Read at least two books a month
• Exhibitions and galleries

COMMUNITY/FAMILY/FRIENDSHIP

• Spending time with family and friends: one of the most pleasurable activities in life
• Ithaca (our weekly get-together with friends to eat, talk, discuss a spiritual/philosophical theme)
• Share veg garden with H+F
• Support for local initiatives like the Bristol Pound
• Malago WI
  
  DOMESTIC/CULINARY

• Make another sourdough bread starter. I binned the last one when we went on holiday and never got round to starting another
• Batch cooking for freezer
• Making more interesting meals
• Small chunks of house clearing on a regular basis
• Egg custard!! No, I still haven’t got this one under my belt

the summer in brief

How to break a long silence? A quick catch up.

I provided the admin and housekeeping support for our annual Arts Trail weekend.

The Mister was away volunteering with the Iona community and my photos were not as good as his would have been.

I did a bit of solo travel:

• By car to visit my sister and see the Lichfield Mystery Plays
• By train to Stratford to visit daughter, s-i-l and granddaughter and to see an understudy performance of Twelfth Night (brilliant!)
• By train to Glasgow to visit my cousin
• By train and ferries and coach to Iona for a week’s visit and catch up with the Mister
• And back home again by ferries, coach and trains visiting daughter no. 3 and all of her family in Lancashire en route.

I found that journeys completed successfully alone leave me with a real buzz of achievement. There’s something about it that makes me feel capable and alive.

I did the usual amount of knitting and stitching

  We had visitors:

• From Devon
• From Holland
• From the Czech Republic
• From Leeds
• From South Africa
• Daughter no. 3 and two of her littlies
• And currently an actor friend who is rehearsing and performing in Bristol

 That’s a lot of bedlinen!

We have celebrated some birthdays

 

We have had a reunion of college friends some forty years on

We have visited Devon for the Preview of an exhibition by friends

 

We have been to a “secret” gig

Seen a couple of films

Visited Stratford again to see the Comedy of Errors

 

We have watched the Olympics on the telly (and now the Paralympics)

 

I have watched these sunflowers grow painfully slowly to (finally) produce a tiny flower!

so long, Hermann my friend,and thanks for all the cake

I’ve been living in retroville for the past couple of weeks as it seems that German Friendship Cake (aka Hermann Cake) is doing the rounds again – perhaps he never went away?

Back in the eighties when we had hungry daughters in the house I was given my first Hermann starter – a type of sweet sourdough, consisting of flour, sugar, milk and wild yeast. It makes a moist spicy cake with the optional addition of apples, raisins and nuts – very nice with a cup of tea or coffee, or even as a warm dessert with cream or ice cream. The starter comes with strange anthropomorphic instructions (“Hermann is hungry – feed him today”) and takes ten days before you bake your first cake. Before the cake is baked, however, the batter has to be divided so that you can pass it on to other bakers.

I seem to remember that I kept it going for a few months, passing on batches of starter to school-gate friends, until I got fed up of the cake tyranny – “Hermann is hungry!” and the family got fed up of always having the same cake. I haven’t got so far this time. For a start I couldn’t find many people to pass it on to. Daughter no. 1 declined the offer as she had recently killed one in her care and didn’t feel up to the responsibility! Daughter no. 2 accepted and we carefully transported a batch up to Stratford last Monday. (I hope they manage to keep it going as I love the prospect of it being passed round the RSC). Other than that, no takers as the friend who gave me my batch is a member of the same Knit and Natter group, so she had them all covered.

I could probably have put a bit more effort into finding people to pass it to, but we’re off on holiday on Monday so won’t be here to stir it every day. So this morning I have stirred up a huge batch of Hermann and made three cakes for the freezer. Should keep us going for a while.

the hat that makes grown men cry

Something of an exaggeration of course, but it seems that this little baby hat is cute enough to render my husband slightly misty-eyed.

I’m so happy to be sending it off to a sweet baby girl who probably won’t be big enough to wear it for some time to come. I mentioned in a post at the end of last year that we were receiving regular bulletins on the progress of twins born 14 weeks early. Sadly, one of the little girls died at twelve days old, but her sister has kept going against the odds, surviving several crises in the process. She still only weighs 4lb 11oz, but is now well enough to go home with her mother and father to continue the adventure of living in this beautiful, if occasionally frightening, world. We wish them well with all our hearts.

down to the sticks, up to the smoke

We’ve been having some very nice times in two separate and contrasting trips.

First we had a weekend trip to Devon, starting last Friday on Steve’s birthday when we went down to visit some special friends. We were joined by another set of friends from Oxford and hooked up with others locally the following day to celebrate two birthdays at the newly-opened River Cottage Canteen in Plymouth.

It was a fab weekend of country walks, generous meals, sea views, laughter, conversation and friendship.

After a brief return to Bristol for Monday childcare fun, we were off again on a very different jaunt in the opposite direction. One thing I miss about our previous location in Oxfordshire is the easy access to London –we just don’t get there very often these days.

Our train journey on Tuesday was very badly delayed by signalling problems, but we did eventually manage to get to the Royal Academy to see David Hockney’s wonderful new exhibition, A Bigger Picture

The blast of colour in these paintings of the Yorkshire landscape is a real feast for the senses. Hockney clearly works very quickly and some of the paintings seem almost slapdash and crude, but then you catch a touch of extraordinary subtlety and grace that renders the landscape totally recognisable. It seems to me that David Hockney has spent his career looking, looking and looking and then showing what he sees so that we in turn are forced to look and see.

Wednesday’s visit to Grayson Perry’s Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman at the British Museum was a last minute addition to the schedule, but as is so often the case, it was the thing that made the trip for me.

It’s funny, thoughtful, touching and extremely skilful - combining work from the BM collection with Perry’s own work. I came away with the hardback catalogue as an early birthday present because I want to be reminded of his words and ideas as much as the artefacts.

Somehow I had managed never to visit the British Museum before and we were very impressed by Foster & Partners’ stunning airy treatment of the Great Court.

All in all a lovely week in the life of the newly retired!

Note: While I have been putting this blog post together, Steve has done a David Hockney on me and blasted out a quick, stream-of-consciousness perfectly judged review of the two shows, which captures them perfectly.

Photo credits: Devon photos - Steve; exhibition photos from RA and BM websites.

the rise (and fall) of the sourdough loaf

As my first “try something new” of 2012 I decided to have a go at making sourdough bread. (And in fact, to make more bread generally). This involves creating a sourdough starter from flour, water and the airborne yeasts that exist in the environment. My bread baking book had a recipe, so off I went.

100g bread flour and 115g tepid water mixed to a paste and left in a covered bowl on the kitchen worktop for 2 – 4 days

After this time it should look bubbly and smell pleasantly yeasty, and it needs to be fed. Add another 100g flour and enough tepid water to make a paste-like dough. Cover and leave for 24 hours.
By now it should be pretty active. Stir, then discard half the mixture and feed as before. Cover and leave for 12 hours, by which time it should be just about ready to use.

Increase the volume by adding another 100g flour and tepid water and leave for 6 – 8 hours. Measure what is needed for your recipe and put the rest in a closed container in the fridge.

So far, so sourdough.
I was a bit surprised after five days of so much bubbling and dividing and adding and stirring and leaving under a damp cloth that the recipe for California Sourdough bread still specified the addition of yeast as well as the sourdough starter, but I did it anyway and was very pleased with the results.

Next I wanted to make a loaf that just used the sourdough starter and no additional yeast. The recipe I chose was for a delicious-looking olive and thyme loaf. I measured the starter, added flour and water, kneaded and left it to prove. Well I waited and waited and really nothing happened. I’ve tried it twice now and the second time I actually left it for more than 24 hours, but the starter just wasn’t active enough to raise the dough.

I was disappointed, but used the starter to do another batch of California sourdough using a wholemeal/white flour mix. Again, the result was very pleasing.

I’m continuing to work with the sourdough starter, feeding and resting, but still haven’t produced anything that looks lively enough to work on its own. It’s beginning to feel a bit wasteful as I add and discard, but I’m going to give it another week or two. Of course I’ve had a look on the internet for other methods of creating a sourdough starter, but ended up feeling confused and distressed because there are so many different approaches. It could be that the ambient temperature of our kitchen in January is just a bit low (though all the artisan bakers extol the slow, cool rise rather than the accelerated approach). For now I’m just going with these wise words from the poet David Whyte: Start close in, don't take the second step or the third, start with the first thing close in, the step you don't want to take. (With thanks to Gail Adams)

books in 2011

My reading rate seems to have gone down in 2011. Unless, of course, I have forgotten to record some of the books as I finish them (always a possibility!).



Steve put up extra shelves this year to accommodate the collection. His own reading has added quite a bit to the bulk. We have both appreciated books as gifts, have bought quite a few second-hand and also from the rather wonderful "Last Bookshop" where everything costs £2. I have also bought full price books from bricks and mortar bookshops, notably Foyles, Blackwells and Waterstones.


I really don't want bookshops to vanish from the High Street and I won't be abandoning proper paper books, but I have also succumbed to the charm and convenience of the Kindle. It was my Christmas gift from Steve and I have read one e-book so far. I'm looking forward to the possibility of travelling with ten books in my bag, but just one rather snazzy piece of kit, resplendent in its own personalised Classic Penguin cover (designed and given to me by daughter no. 2) Here's this year's list with special favourites highlighted:


Sebastian Faulks, A Week in December
Penelope Fitzgerald, The Beginning of Spring
Helen Fielding, Cause Celeb
Penelope Fitzgerald, The Book Shop
Jonathan Coe, What a Carve Up
Karin Fossum, The Water's Edge
Henning Mankell, Italian Shoes
Helen Warner, RSVP
Penelope Fitzgerald, At Freddie's
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Sophie Hannah, A Room Swept White
Bella Pollen, The Summer of the Bear
Mary Kay Zuravleff, The Bowl is Already Broken
Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Salley Vickers, Where Three Roads Meet
Steven Benatar, Wish Her Safe at Home
Andrew Motion, In the Blood
David Mitchell, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
Graham Swift, Out of this World
Victoria Hislop, The Island
Chitra Divakaruni, Sister of my Heart
Patrick Leigh Fermor, A Time of Gifts
Muriel Spark, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
Linda Grant, Remind me who I am again.
John Banville, The Sea
Tracy Chevalier, The Lady and the Unicorn
Maggi Dawn, Accidental Pilgrim
Nigel Slater, Toast
Kate Atkinson, Started early, took my dog
David Nicholls, One Day
Colette Rossant, Return to Paris
David Mitchell, Black Swan Green
Peter Carey, Parrott and Olivier in America
Paul Auster, Sunset Park
Helen Dunmore, The Betrayal
Anna Ralph, The Floating Island
P D James, Time to Be in Earnest
Jason Goodwin, The Bellini Card
Nicola Upson, Two for Joy

an everyday miracle

I very much enjoyed spending some time cuddling our latest grand-daughter yesterday afternoon. At less than 48 hours old she was still very sleepy. Just as we were about to leave she woke and became alert – looking around in all directions, focussing and re-focussing. I was forcibly struck once more by the everyday miracle of a new life. Those eyes had very little to look at in utero, but within two days they are searching and processing the world, and the muscles that control their movement are being exercised. From the moment that she emerged from dark into light her senses were bombarded by new stimuli opening up new neural pathways in her brain (not that I know anything about brain development, you understand!).

We have six grand-children now and they’re all just as miraculous and marvellously made. But this little girl would not be with us without the intervention of modern science, because she was conceived through IVF treatment – something that only became available at around the time her mother was born 33 years ago.

We are all profoundly grateful. But we’re also remembering friends who have had a series of miscarriages and a stillbirth and who remain, through the amazing strength of the human spirit, generous, optimistic lovely people. And we are receiving regular updates on the condition of twins born at 26 weeks gestation, who are being cared for in separate hospitals. Thanks again to medical science there is every chance that there will be a happy outcome for them – I am certainly praying for it.

None of it seems quite fair to human sensibilities, but it all fits in with the extraordinary beauty and messiness of the world, which in turn chimes a chord with the Archbishop of Canterbury’s message last week: “The story of the first Christmas is the story of a series of completely unplanned, messy events – a surprise pregnancy, an unexpected journey that's got to be made, a complete muddle over the hotel accommodation when you get there...Not exactly a perfect holiday.”

Happy Christmas!

crab apple jelly

Visiting a local friend recently I was impressed by the abundant crab apples on the tree in the front garden. She confessed to having no time (or inclination) to do anything about them this year and said I was welcome to pick them.

So, last Friday Steve and I went over there equipped with a good supply of plastic carrier bags and spent an hour gathering as much as we could reach. What we brought home filled three big mixing bowls and we still left plenty for the birds and insects to eat.

After washing and picking over I ended up with about 7kg of usable fruit, which I put in pans to simmer.

Making a jelly (as opposed to jam) is new to me, so I spent a bit of time comparing internet recipes and looking at instructions for creating jelly straining bags. I plumped for the recipe on the BBC Food website.

I was quite pleased with the straining device I set up using two chairs, a broom handle and a length of doubled muslin. All the recipes are very adamant that the bag should be left to strain without squeezing in order to avoid clouding of the final jelly. I did experiment a little in my treatment of the fruit in that I mashed one batch to pulp after cooking but before straining it and left the other batch just in its softened, simmered condition. I think the mashed fruit rendered up a bit more juice and I couldn’t see a substantial difference in the end result.

Monday saw me all set to get on with the actual jam-making process. In all I ended up with about 3.5 litres of juice and added sugar in a ratio of 10 parts juice to 6 parts sugar (volumetric measure) as one or two people had commented that the 10:7 ratio in the recipe was a bit too sweet. The juice of one and half lemons also went into the mixture.

Not having a preserving pan, I had to divide the mixture between three large pans. (It’s important to have plenty of headroom in the pan as it has to be brought to and held at a rolling boil for quite some time).

Setting point was achieved relatively quickly. I used an ancient food thermometer that used to belong to my parents and also did the “wrinkle test” with spoonfuls of jelly on very cold saucers. In fact the set was so efficient that when I started potting the preserve a skin had started to form and I managed to get great pre-set blobs in with the still runny jelly, which rather made a mockery of all my attempts to keep the juice completely clear! I ended up with 10 jars of various sizes.

Well it won’t be a prize winner, but it will still be delicious with hot and cold meats and on toast and I may even give away a pot or two.

living the dream

We took a little trip down to Devon today to have breakfast with our friends Maggie and Jeremy and to visit their Open Studio event.

M+J are friends from our Oxfordshire days and they moved to Devon not long after we moved to Bristol. They were hoping for a gentler pace of life and to pursue their creative aspirations. I’m not sure that the pace of life is any less frenetic (in fact I know it isn’t), but they have certainly cracked on with the creative stuff. Since moving to their village home they have converted existing outbuildings to create an office and high-tech picture-framing workshop for Jeremy and a painting/printmaking studio for Maggie.

They have made loads of contacts in the Devon art world and Maggie collaborates regularly with other artists and shows her work several times a year at local galleries. At Christmas she opens her studio and fills it with her own work as well as lots of stuff from other artists and craftworkers.

We had a lovely time looking and buying. When we left the studio was full of eager customers looking for original Christmas presents.

We couldn’t visit South Devon without a trip to the coast, so we spent some time splashing along the seashore at Bantham.

It was the loveliest day for a trip. Although cold and windy the sun was strong and bright. The sea and the countryside sparkled and as we drove home along the M5 the light gave the late autumn trees an extraordinary delicate clarity.

why are you doing it?

So, I’m just over half way through the November blog-a-day challenge and it’s proving quite difficult to think of something to post every day. It certainly changes the nature of the way I blog. I was talking to a friend about it yesterday and he asked why I had taken the challenge on. Good question!

I suppose, partly it’s the good old “because it’s there” motivation. I discovered that the challenge existed and decided to give it a go. It’s also because my blogging has always been pretty sporadic, but had recently almost dried up. It wasn’t quite a choice between abandoning it altogether or going for it 100%, but increasing my posting rate – even if slightly artificially – seemed a good thing to do.

Which of course raises the question, why blog in the first place? To quote my own words back in January 2008 when I started :

“ I don't think I'm a natural blogger. I have resisted this for a long time. Have kept diaries in the past and always been keenly depressed by re-reading them.However, I have recently been inspired by the vast numbers of creative blogs out there - notably knitting, but other things too and thought it might be a good way of reviewing my work and encouraging myself that I have actually done something.”

That’s pretty much how I still feel about it. If I were doing it just to be read by other people I think it would be quite a different blog, but the fact is that I am using a public medium, so there’s obviously some desire for it to be seen and read by other people. It also means making sure that I only publish things that I don’t mind anyone else seeing (and that I don’t infringe anyone else’s privacy).

Although my blog is still largely for my own benefit, as time goes on one becomes aware that blogging creates a community. Some of the blogs I visit on a regular basis have masses of comments and I gradually noticed names appearing in more than one place and a kind of blog-circle emerges. There’s a kind of reciprocal courtesy in the blogiverse that means that if someone comments on your blog, you visit theirs and make a comment and gradually relationships are formed. Up to now I’ve been quite a shy blogger; visiting blogs, reading them and slipping quietly away, with perhaps an occasional comment. Recently I’ve felt more inclined to take part and have a voice in the conversation.

Sharing the blog on Facebook also makes a difference to how it is seen and read. Facebook oddly feels more public than the more anonymous cyber village that is blogland. One is more conscious of the people one knows reading and forming opinions. These are the moments to be grateful that there is no “dislike” button! It has also lead to some welcome conversations in the real world with people who have read what I’m saying and said that they enjoy it. (Thank you).

knit and natter: a very good yarn

After a morning of technological meltdown yesterday trying to reinstall my wireless printer (unsuccessful so far), it was a relief to leave the house for the refuge of Wednesday afternoon’s Knit and Natter group.
We meet at Paper Village our local craft and yarn store, owned by the redoubtable Vicky - all round artist, crafter, trainer and social entrepreneur.

She welcomes a mixed group of knitters and crocheters every Wednesday afternoon just for the cost of a cup of tea. People come and go over the course of the afternoon and the range of projects is even wider than the range of people working on them (not exclusively women, by the way).

It’s hard to say what is so enjoyable and just plain right about sitting around yarning in the company of others, but it is – give it a try.

I love oxford

My first solo encounter with Oxford was not propitious. It was 1968 and I arrived by train for an interview at what was then Oxford College of Technology (now Oxford Brookes University). I got off the train and didn’t know which way to walk to get into the town. I spent quite a long time walking in the wrong direction before I discovered my mistake. By the time I discovered the city centre and realised that I still had to negotiate a bus ride to Headington I was distraught and rang my mother in floods of tears.

Strange then that I overcame my initial first impressions and went on the live in, or within easy reach of, Oxford for the next 35 years.

Because I came to live in Oxford as a student, I got to know it bit by bit. Its austere classical beauty seeped into my heart without the need for tourist sight-seeing. I finished growing up there; I kicked leaves in Christ Church Meadows; I studied; I swam in the river on May morning; I made lifelong friends; I learned how to punt in a straight(ish) line; I fell in love; I went to May Balls; I worked, I married and I raised a family within twelve miles of Carfax Tower.

So as we stepped down from the train in Oxford station this morning it was with a happy sense of anticipation of revisiting this beautiful city that I know so well. I knew it was going to be a day of treats.

The first was a visit to the Ashmolean Museum where Steve had pre-arranged a visit to the Western Art Print Room. He knew that the museum hold a collection of Turner watercolours. What you can see in the galleries of public art collections is only a fraction of what they have and most are willing to make other parts of the collections available to the public if you know what you want to see. Steve particularly wanted to see watercolours of Venice and an early drawing that Turner had made of the Ashmolean covered in scaffolding during an eighteenth century refurbishment. It was one of those marvellous white-glove experiences. We were presented with a large box of mounted watercolours and a small desk easel and left to revel in the experience of seeing the master’s work up close and personal. It was wonderful.

We had time after that for a wander around the galleries. We went in different directions; Steve to look at paintings and me to have a lovely mooch around ceramics.

Then we met a dear friend for a leisurely lunch at the Red Lion and talked and talked until all too soon it was time to get back on the train for home.

It was a grey and drizzly November day, but it was still beautiful. A lovely, lovely day.

photo credit: Steve Broadway

wanna sing with a live band?

Well no, I really, really don't want to, but on the other hand one of the things I have started doing since I retired is singing with a community choir. Community choirs are popular these days and some, like the wonderful Gasworks Choir, have waiting lists. I would normally have been very reticent about joining a choir. I’m one of those people who have never felt I was able to sing.
This choir is different though. It started as an arts initiative by our local GP Practice who had funding for a whole series of “Never Too Late To Create” workshops. The participants were mainly older patients with mental health problems and/or chronic illness. One of the GPs who was closely involved with the groups has noted that the music/singing groups were especially popular and that involvement with singing appeared to increase self-confidence, produced improvements in mood and helped people to socialise with others and build supportive friendships. Since the NTLTC funding finished the choir has evolved into an independent group (the Big Friendly Choir), which is open (and free) to all regardless of health/age/ability. I was encouraged to join by a friend who was already a member.
I have come to really enjoy and value my Thursday morning sing! Our musical director, Mark Lawrence, is wonderfully encouraging and inclusive, and draws performances from us that we didn’t know we were capable of. There are one or two very talented singers with lovely voices who can sing harmonies, but the majority of us (like me) only feel safe singing with others. When I first joined I didn’t realise that public performance would be part of the deal and was acutely embarrassed at the prospect. I am still not confident about my own singing but have come to see that it’s about the group and what we can achieve together. We normally have a modest end of term concert in a cafe/gallery, but have also sung in a residential home; as part of the local Arts Trail; and at Bristol Central Library. In December we will be singing for the pleasure(!) of shoppers in Asda, with a group of children’s choirs in St George’s, Bristol and at the Central Library once more.
Most choirs charge their members a (sometimes substantial) fee, but this one is free and because of that we are regularly looking for funding. At the moment we have enough in the kitty to take us to Christmas and are awaiting the outcome of two funding applications. It seems that one of the things that I see as the choir’s greatest advantages – the fact that it is open to everyone – can be a disadvantage when applying for funds. If it were just for older people, or just for people with long-term health problems there would be a definite “peg” to hang it on, but the fact that we are a mixed group who have come together and formed a choral relationship regardless of problems seems to put us in a special category. There are people in the choir who could probably afford to pay for their sessions, but it would be invidious to create a sort of two-tier membership. This will be an ongoing situation for us, so if you know any funders/charities who might consider supporting us let me know!
We were recently recorded at one of our regular Thursday rehearsals singing a four-part round of This Old Freedom Train and published on YouTube!

summer at the rwa - and a miscalculation

We recently went (on the recommendation of a friend ) to the exhibition of Robert Lenkiewicz’s work at the Royal West of England Academy (RWA). We were very impressed by the work (and life) of this art world “outsider” with its big themes, such as mental handicap and vagrancy; and despite my initial misgivings I was very moved by the display of an embalmed body as part of the exhibition.
Before that it had probably been more than a year since I was last at the RWA. It seems that it is re-inventing itself somewhat, with a new cafe and refurbishment plans to improve storage of the collection amongst other things. The list of exhibitions for the summer season – Mary Fedden, Lisa Milroy, Elisabeth Frink, Damien Hirst, Jack Vettriano – looked inviting. Mostly quite safe, tried and tested stuff - apart from the Vettriano, which has caused something of a kerfuffle in RWA circles and led to the president resigning. Vettriano has long been the focus of a “critics-versus-the-people” stand-off and he is used to the fuss. In an interview on the local news last week he expressed himself delighted to be showing in a large public gallery and remarked that all the critical vilification just brings people in to see for themselves.

Indeed. I went along on Friday to see what all the fuss is about. I went with a (relatively) open mind having only ever seen reproductions of JV’s work. I have to say that on this occasion I am on the side of the critics. His work is technically fine and he certainly has his own style, but somehow it fails to inspire. What hadn’t been trumpeted in the press is that it’s a tandem show, pairing his paintings with the ballroom dance photographs of Jeanette Jones. I found her black and white images far more entrancing and evocative than the paintings.



I also loved the Lisa Milroy exhibition based on Japanese woodblock engraving and particularly liked her witty and affectionate portrayal of geishas. The small Frink exhibition and the “Up from the Country” two-hander from Neil Murison and Peter Murphy were also worth seeing as is Damien Hirst’s vast statue of Charity.

However, the work that I really wanted to see – Mary Fedden’s Celebration – was nowhere to be found! It turned out that I managed to arrive on one of the few days it wasn’t on show because it’s being moved from the main gallery where JV is now showing to the side gallery where “Up from the Country” is just finishing. How confusing. Oh well, I’ll just have to go again, and as I’m hoping that our friend Maggie will be visiting in August for some arty play that will be the perfect opportunity.

While I was there I visited the new cafe (of course!) which has been opened by local cafe/deli people Papadeli. I only had a cup of coffee, but the food all looked delicious and the room (reclaimed from one of the small ground floor gallery spaces) was calm and cool. As I stood at the service counter waiting for my drink, however, I couldn’t escape from the knowledge that I was standing where the ladies loos used to be! I can understand why they’ve kept the old crazed cream ceramic tiles; it fits the shabby-chic, old school feel, but unfortunately one can still clearly see where basins and hand-dryers have been removed from the walls and patched with brownish filler. Not the best bit of making good I’ve ever seen.

Still that’s an amused observation rather than a gripe. I enjoyed my visit and combined it with a fruitful, but sad, visit to Habitat’s closing down sale.