I read several books over m yholiday. A truly, truly terrible novel was Going Dutch by Katie Fforde. I'm not much of a chick lit girl, but my sister said it was "a bit classier" than standard chick lit. Totally wooden characters. Completely predictable plot. Hideous plot holes. Absolute rubbish... Don't go there.
So a bit more after that, I went for Mark Haddon's "A Spot of Bother" (which I notice truthsign has also recently read). This is not a cheery read, but it is good. And very different (I thought) from the Curious Incident of the Dog in the NIghtime , or whatever his first book was. Be prepared to be challenged. I wanted to know what it would end like... and that everyoine would be OK... all the way through.
Which is a little how I felt about Margaret Forster's Diary of an ORdinary Woman. There's a very big "twist" in this which is both apparent from the front cover but also easy to ignore... Anyway, it was a gripping read, even if at times I did feel that it felt like the stories I used to write as a teenager "everyoine dies, but I keep on battling on" (I find that tragedy underpins many a teenage girl's story writing, tell me I wasn't the only morbid one!). I was suspicious, but didn't see the twist coming, so I was left a bit gutted at the end. But still, so worth reading (I read it on the plane on the way back, whilst walking off the plane, whilst waiting for passport control, waiting for luggage, and even at half eleven that night because it was a book I just had to finish).
Summer is well and truly setting in over here and so I'm on to my seasonal shoe hunt. My thing is feet. I can't stand them. I'm not picky, I don't have degrees of ugliness about toes, but I cannot understand why anyone displays their toes... they're so ugly, I find it really distracting. I know its weird, its just my "thing", so I never wear sandals, flip flops etc... haven't since I was 10...11? Hideous things, feet. Least thing I can do is at least hide my own (though strangely I'm not so weird about bare feet).
So, my yearly summer - shoes - where - toes- aren't- on - display hunt is on. I thought I'd found a great pair, bought them, and am still suffering the blister from the 20 minute walk I did in them. Ouch!
Yesterday I managed to chop a bit off my finger. A bit of nail and the skin underneath. I needed extra protein in the fajitas, but not my own ;). Consequently I have a large bandage on the ringer finger of my left hand and it HURTS! Still better today then two weeks ago when I played the organ for my friend's wedding. The Queen of Sheba, fortunately, doesn't need playing again any time soon!
I go to Italy rather more than the usual person, mostly because my sister lives there, and frankly, that's as good an excuse as any. She lives in the town of Imola - famous for the San Marino grand prix - although the circuit has been closed these past two years as they have been rebuilding pit lanes. HOwever, last weekend was the grand reopening, so I can now say that I've walked the length of a F1 race track... there's not many as can say that! Just hoping that F1 returns there in the future so we get to go and see a race (I'm not a big F1 fan, but there's something about being there which I'd like).
The opening weekend included live music, dancing, car & motorbike exhibitions, but also a mass in memory of Ayrton Senna and Roland Ratzinburger, who both died there. As we walked round the circuit, fresh floral tributes in the shape of their country's flags were a vivid reminder of the dangers of that particular sport.
Talking to an Italian (in English), he said that the only thing that unites Italy is rule breaking. "Getting one over" on the law is such a part of culture that it is taking a step away that you see what is so different. So, for example, everyone wears posh, designer sunglasses - but rides clapped out old bikes because a decent one would get nicked. Driving irresponsibly is actualy about breaking the rules,* and the dismissal of the government and all that it stands for (and who can blame them... Silvio the slimey Belesconi isn't exactly the model of good governance) is to do with that.
The other thing about Italy is that anything government/civil service run is organised to get as many people into jobs as possible. Witness the "leaf blower", tidying up a car park of dead leaves (in May!). On a windy day. With a colleague trying to pick up the piles of dead leaves which had been blown around the car park by the time they get in place. Two people... one car park... one morning... instant job creation.
The icecream is fab though. Ginger and cinnamon gelato was the most interesting flavour I tried - and very nice it was too!
*(I found this on the FCO website: In 2005 there were 5,426 road deaths in Italy - This equates to 9.3 road deaths per 100,000 of population and compares to the UK average of 5.5 road deaths per 100,000 of population in 2005.)
I have discovered Sporcle as another source of online time wasting.
My knowledge of the countries of Africa is marginally worse than my attempt at the states ofAmerica (a little over half in both cases, although in my defence I had no idea what the exact names were of the bits of the Congo)
My Kings and Queens of England, however, were perfect. Yup, even that one which everyone seems to miss (1553), probably because she isn't usually icnluded
This evening I had the priviledge (along with several hundred/thousand other people) of watching three queens. Queen Victoria, Queen Mary II and Queen Elizabeth II were together for the only time in Southampton docks (and, I think, the last time ever). I was standng from about where the photograph at the top of this story was taken, although sadly as it was a last minute decision to pop down, I didn't have my own photograph.
Still, amazing how the sound of these three great mistresses of the seas whistling (or rather, grunting) at each other can tug at the heart strings, although as the fairly slim shape of the QE2 was left in the background as the two (very new) liners Queen Victoria and QM2 left, it really was the leaving behind of an other age - of sleek, practical ocean travel.
I've never been on a cruise, I can't see me liking it much, but just once, I'd like to have a go.
Than the smell of gently frying leeks? Though sadly my cheesey leek gratin recipe has had to be abandoned for the evening (fairly important ingredient, cheese, to that recipe).
I had an interview today. For a job. If it weren't for the fact I was an internal candidate, I'm not sure I'd have made it this far...
... really awkward to use online application form (which I happen to know prints out really useless format stuff)
... a letter from HR a day before the interview
... a presentation to give "without the use of a laptop"
... "park in the pay and display" (at £7 a day?)
This year's excuse for not making it to the Wightmeet (and that's the fourth year running I've had an excuse too-good-to-turn down) was a friend's Hen weekend. First we went to the Grand National. I'm not a fan of big crowds of people (either people i know , or people I don't know - if I don't get at least an hour to my self everyday I do get ridiculously moody) and found it all a bit overwhelming. It was also, well, a bit orange. Never before has so much fake-tanned-bare-flesh been exposed in bitingly freezing winds, rain and maybe even a spot of hail.
I was surprised about how little it was about horses (perhaps I'm naive). Not that I'm entirely comfortable with the way that horse racing uses and abuses horses, but I kind of thought that there would be more focus than the five minutes every half hour or so where most people watched something moving on a very small screen half a mile away.
Anyway, after that (well, I left early - both for time to myself and in order to purchase the pyjamas I'd managed to leave at home...oops!) our party of 12 made our way over in dribs and drabs to Castleton. In the heart of the peak district, one approach to this village (naturally, the one the sat nav took us through) is through a 20% decline down a valley. Absolutely stunning, especially at the turn -of-twilight haze we went through. We stayed at the youth hostel, dining out at the pub next door (who responded remarkably well to 12 people descending for dinner at 9pm) and stayed up long into the evening to enjoy teasing the bride-to-be.
The following day we went out on a walk. The village is dominated by the ruins ofPeveril Castle, and we took a walk up the valley, which was covered with a light dusting of snow - just enough to make it look pretty without being treacherous, although the bit where we scrambled up a half-frozen stream was enough for me to declare that I was not going down that way... I'm a bit of (erm, actually, a lot of) a wimp when it comes to going down hills, and the slide-down-on-my-bum approach is the one I prefer (it sort of means that the anticipation of the fall is never realised). The views at the top really were worth it though. Its a beautiful bit of the country and I have the distinct urge to go back and explore more!
On the way home I called in at some friends, also in Derbyshire. However, it was nice to be finally back home - in the course of ten days I'd been to Warwick and York with work, and also had a day trip to London (to see the Sound of Music. If you get a chance, go). Last weekend was my first "free" weekend - with no visitors, nothing to see, nothing prebooked, nowhere to go - since January I think. And it was lovely :D
Like Ian, I'm trying to do my bit for Walking around the World on the Ship of Fools. Yesterday I did 50 lengths of the pool before work (more than I've ever managed before work before). I've got the residual traces of a cold (where does all that snot come from? It can't be healthy!) and have so far being resisting the call of the bike. But my own personal credit crunch means that I'd like to not have to top up my car with petrol before the end of the month, so that might have to change soon.
Just a year ago, the Labour party backbenchers were falling over theirselves to get rid of Blair. Now they seem intent on doing the same with Brown. Do they want to be out of a job? Admittedly we're not - yet - at the open snide challenges that John Major saw, but they're getting there. Don't they see what they're doing? With not enough clear water between the two parties to distinguish in policies, who are voters going to go for?
Meanwhile, David Cameron (never trust a man who has an opinion on everything) is sneakily getting in. There are some seriously huge Conservative placards lining the main road out of Southampton at the moment. I live in a - perhaps the most - marginal Lib Dem seat (Tory second place) in the country, so I forsee a lot of attention on this little area of the world soon enough. The propaganda coming out of the local Tory party is scary enough... the thought of getting central office on to it too...
When the little bluebird who has never said a word starts to sing "Spring Spring"
(ferijen, April 16, 2008, 9:36 am)
I've been singing this over to myself, interspersed with the start of Spring from Vivaldi's Four Seasons, for the best part of the week. Not because of the need to fall in love, but just in celebration of sunshine. The daffodils are dying off, replaced by keen and eager tulips. The vegetables in my plot are starting to get some little shoots. The sun is out - I'm not even wearing a jumper today. As I'm going in late to work as the piano is being tuned this morning, and I've meeting going til at least 6 this evening, I haven't even had to deice my car this morning. All is good with the world.
Three people from my primary school class now work together. I'm not sure whether to be nostalgic, or shocked that people don't leave the small, insular town I grew up in.
I've been getting progressively spiritually dryer over the past few years. Cynism with the church has come into it - for a long while I think I confused God and the church - but I'm more and more agnostic as it goes. I feel I ought to believe... in fact, I do believe in the "facts", I have no problem in accepting the resurrection or miracles or the existence of Jesus, I just don't get the feeling that God, if he's up there, is that interested in us. The death of a friend's four year old last year from a long and horrible illness didn't help... but I find my intellectual questioning coming up to at least agnostic points. What about the millenia of humans devoid of contact from God? What about those never likely to see anything of the majesty of the divine? What about the other faiths? What about those people not prayed for? et cetera et cetera...
I'm quite happy with the fact that life is a finite existence. I'm happy that death might be just it. I believe - indeed know - that the memories of those who have gone are eternal in the way their characters and personalities are remembered. So part of me is asking... why do I need to believe?
And yet, its Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter all over again. And I feel this strange attraction to go back to church. To witness, even if not to feel. So I will be traipsing out tonight and yes, maybe even at 5:30 on Sunday morning (it beats this morning's if-you're-awake-you-might-as-well-wash-up experience ;) ). I believe passionately in people's right to worship, and in continuing the traditions of the Church (for all its failings, its the ANglican church's quiet evensong that does the most for me), and in the power of prayer to make people feel better, even if that is all it does to change anything.
Ah, yes, the playing the organ bit. I don't really play the organ. I used to able to play the piano to a fairly decent level, and have accompanied hymn singing on it in schools and churches since the grand old age of 9. However, my organ knowledge extends to five lessons and a lot of ad hoc practice, mostly when I was earning money from playing for funerals as a teenager.
However, my soon-to-be-married-friend knows me from this time. Which means somehow I have to get my very out of practice fingers around the QUeen of Sheba soon. And my feet around 'Jerusalem'. Strictly speaking, if you see me on here, I ought to be practicing!
At the end of April I'm playing the organ for a friend who is getting married near her home town. SHe's getting married at this church - funded from the proceeds of a Derby win so with a few prominent horses heads inside (including on the stone altar). The priest (or should I say his literary cats) also does a fine line in children's books. Should you ever find yourself in that neck of the woods, well worth a visit.
This gave me the excuse to make a visit to one of the least undiscovered beautiful bits left in the country. The Trough of Bowland is like the Lake District without the toursits and the Lakes (although with the rain). Unbelievably tiny hamlets, very steep hills and spectacular scenery. I will remember when I go up for the wedding to take my camera, both for the wildness of Bowland, and the more populated area around Pendle Hill, which dominates the Clitheroe skyline.
Due to the munificence of my employer, I get today (Maundy Thursday) and Tuesday off for "free" - i.e. over and above my quite generous annual leave allowance. Due to the SChool Easter holidays, this means that I'm actually off today when all my teacher friends aren't! How great is that??
So today was to be productive. Mr Ferijen's parents are visiting over the weekend. They're lovely people, but prompt the sort of cleanliness and tidiness not usually seen in this household. Or any body elses. Accordingly, when I woke up at the incredibly annoying time of 4am this morning, I actually got myself out of bed (ok, at 5:30) and did the washing up from last night* and cleaned the cooked up.
Then I went back to bed, as Mr F left for work. And the day's gone downhill from then. I have hoovered upstairs, but I've spent much longer playing with the lego I've recovered from my parents house (the lego, probably at least fourth hand when I got it, was presented to me in a large wooden box when I was, I guess, about 3. I still remember my Grandad slididng it between my legs and the front passenger seat as we waving him off to say goodbye after a visit (we lived a long way from them). It has my name written in his extremely elegant script - he left school at 14, but had the most beautiful handwriting - ).
I've also played with Dave's Easy way to create a church website to create a church website. And I met Mr Ferijen for lunch (he was supposed to be off this week, but has had to give up his leave becasue of work deadlines, so the least he could do was take me out for lunch I figured ;) ). And went to the garden centre to buy more stuff I probably don't need. And I've been to get spare keys cut for our front door.
SO the fact that hoovering, tidying, kitchen cleaning, dusting, and general making-the-place look presentable hasn't been done isn't entirely unexpected. I shall aspire, in the next half hour, to be more domestic goddess like and make it look at least a little bit nicer for Mr Ferijen's homecoming. And I'm also planning to make some hot cross buns. I shall, no doubt, fail. Still, if today tells me nothing else, it says that I'm not cut out to be a housewife (although I could aspire to be a lady who lunches.
*One of the reasons it was left undone was that we'd spent the time before cooking the meal washing up from the night before. And the night before that. Slovenly doesn't begin to describe it.
I love baking. Love getting those simple ingredients - flour, margarine, sugar, eggs - and turning them into something lovely. Of course, my love of baking might also have a little to do with my.. ahem... curvaceous figure. At work we have a cake club - inspired by Mr Ferijen's work first - where a group of us meet on Monday mornings to "network" over a cake provided by one of the group. Its a fantastic opportunity to meet different people in your office and eat cake (always a good thing), all for baking (or faking - buying) once every three or four months. I do recommend this if you work in the sort of environment where it goes down. Its amazing how competitive people get (and how great the "judging" is!)
I've even been known to indulge in some novelty cake making... for a sixtieth birthday where the present was a flying lesson (although not in a jumbo jet) and for a certain "Green T"s wedding
ANyway, should you feel inspired, I do recommend the following recipes
Well that's OK then. And no doubt the all-sided support of the Speaker of the House of COmmons - currently claiming £24000 a year for his home in Scotland - is an attempt to deflect the spotlight on the rest of the House.
Shame on them. I don't think I could claim a penny without an expenses receipt. Same public budget, different rules apparently.
Finally got around to plugging my camera into my computer (not as easy it sounds, my USB hubs being over used and inaccessible!). So here are some photos for anyone's perusal. I've also discovered picasa to go with my ferijen account - first impressions are very good! I may yet be converted from my flickr account (which is in my "real" name and something I'm not 100% happy sharing here).
ANyway, a few weeks ago we went to Kingston Lacey, a beautiful looking (we didn't go inside this time) house in Dorset, not far away from Bournemouth. At this time of year, it is most famous for its snowdrops - there are definitely lots of them. Very very pretty - I do like snowdrops.
Which brings me on to my front garden... there are snowdrops there, although thesepictures only show the rockery irises, crocii and emerging (not yet flowering) daffodils. Very pretty its looking too. This afternoon we sowed tomato, brocolli and marigold seeds so getting productive. However, the rat man has come again and laid more poison in the shed so we're being wimps and not doing any "real" gardening as that involves going in there. I feel that going Through The Shed (never an easy task at the best of times) might need to be done with real grown ups. Mr Ferijen's parents are lovely people and are planning to visit soon and are a great deal less wimpy than we are!
This weekend one of my oldest friends, M, came to visit. We were in the same form together at secondary school, and I guess I've known him now since I was 11 and he took the role of Sonic the Hedgehog in the Celebrity Stars in their Eyes "special" we did for the Christmas end-of-term-get-all-the-kids-in-the-same-room-so-we-can-tidy-up extravaganza. My role was worse - much more embarassing, as Mrs Thatcher. This was due (I hope) entirely to my southern accent which was not easy to hide behind in a Lancashire secondary school!
Anyway, M came down on Thursday. On Friday we went to Portsmouth, going to visit the Victory (Nelson's battleship), the Mary Rose (Henry VIII's flagship, currently being doused with wax chemicals as part of a 30 year restoration project) and going up the Spinnaker Tower. Keen observers will note that this is the second time I did this in a week. At £7 a go Portsmouth City Council are getting their money's worth out of me. Still the views from the top are quite spectacular - we caught a ferry going out and stood on the glass floor.
Saturday we went into the New Forest - saw some ponies (they roam wild, but tame, in the area) and cycled through some of the many tracks and woodlands. Did about 15 miles, not a huge amount and nicely broken up by a picnic and a drink in a rather nice pub half way through. Must do that more this year! I even took a picture of my shadow the sun was rather bright and lovely.
Now I don't like baked beans. But I was feeding a vegetarian this weekend (and a vegetarian who isn't keen on strong cheese or, indeed, quite a lot of veggies) so I felt that something ought to be done to make the baked potatoes we were having for lunch J-friendly.
Jennifer's beans recipe (vegetarian friendly, unlike the Worcestershire sauce and ham one I came across)
Chop onions into very small pieces. Fry on a low heat in a little oil until starting to caramelise.
Whack in a little muscavado sugar (I didn't say they were diabetic friendly ;). About a teaspoon will do.
And a little bit of balsamic vinegar.
And a good dollop of mustard.
Stir around a bit... should help with the caramelising.
Next, stir in one drained can of cannelini beans, dried oregano, basil and pepper (I may have added sugar but I never ever ever use salt when cooking anything).
Add a can of chopped tomatoes
Simmer until the consistency you like
Serve over a jacket potato. Preferably one cooked all the way through (oops...)
Found in one of my trainers. The fact that it took me a week to find it points to the lack of exercise in that week. Since then I have cycled into work and back (10 miles round journey, long drawn out up hill section of about a mile on the way back) three times as part of a Lenten resolution to cut down car use when at all possible.
"There's a place for finding what would be a constructive accommodation with some aspects of Muslim law, as we already do with some other aspects of religious law."
What Rowan Williams didn't say
"We should have two legal systems for everyone and we'll start advocating chopping people's hands off if they take off their burkas".
It may be unwise to try and summarise an academic lecture in a few minutes interview (When I was doing my A level politics some ten years ago, seven seconds was, apparently, the usual soundbite length - I imagine its shorter now). It's not a resignation offence. I mean, at least the CofE hasn't hit the headlines for a sex-related row this time. Rowan Williams' intelligence probably belongs to a different age, where great thinkers were allowed to get on and think without their ideas being digested to two sentence gobbets.
Awaiting a better name 
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