Monday, February 8th, 2010
Returning to...
Well, I'm back home. Yesterday I sawed bits of lawson cypresses off. Poetic and good with my hands; or at least good enough to be able to saw tree branches and not lose any part of my hands.
I came back by Mega Bus, owned by Stagecoach. Now I do not remember ever being made angry by Stagecoach (Yes, I know my memory is getting bad). and they are cheaper than National Express and that is how I returned.
It is an odd combination of train from St Pancras to East Midlands Parkway; then coach to Mayo Avenue Bradford. It is still not as good as going all the way by train, and the the total travel cost between Bradford and Three Bridges is not as bad for train if booked well ahead, because the bit from London to Three Bridges is cheaper than paying on the day, like I have to if going by coach. Still; there are big plus points for Mega Bus:
1. It is an even shorter walk to the train from The Betjemin Bar (Eeeiiiii - eeiiiii - eeiiiii than it is to Kings Cross.
2. Because the coach does not go to L**ds, and the first two thirds is by train, the journey takes less time.
3. Because the first two thirds is by train there is a chance to drink Guiness, or Strongbow, or if you have no sense of taste: Carling or John Smiths, made smooth with fartgas'. A train is also better than a coach because you can empty your bladder without snapping a tendon or being made to smell like you have just arrived from a swim in the 19th Century Thames.
4. East Midlands Parkway is right next to Ratcliffe-on-Soar power station; and thus significant pylons.
5. Where I live is downhill from Mayo Avenue; and there is a big Morrisons there where I can buy milk, and very reduced shellfish platters, and very reasonable bottles of cava, and hardly see anyone even uglier than I am (so a gentle reintroduction), and get a taxi home for a quid less than one from the station.
WARNING - The following passage will be written by a bloke who knows a bit about trains, who can easily rediscover his masculine side, and it may contain words such as 'EMU' and '125'.
The train part was the one to Nottingham; which reminds me of a minor quibble. The booking could be clearer. Someone who had never been to St Pancras could be utterly confused; as there is nothing on the website to tell you where to go, or that you will be traveling on the train to Nottingham.
The train was a 125. I saw reconfigured 125's I had never heard of (5 cars including both driving car's luggage space turned over to seats) but I think mine was 8 car. When I sat down i thought Ooo! That's lovely and soft and bouncy. Almost immediately I was taken back to traveling by some trains in the Southeast of England in the 1960's. and very early 1970's. There were trains (EMU's) with no doors between one carriage and another (thus no toilet); and even trains with carriages that were divided into individual, isolated, compartments. All of those kinds of trains were painted and decorated the same; and pretty much smelled the same (why is 'smelt' not a word?); but they all also had very bouncy seats.
The reason some old Southern region trains had bouncy seats was to try and make up for the fact that if you traveled on one it felt (not felled?) like the train had octagonal wheels.
Today's 125 was a bit bouncy, but much less than the coach, and I still like the 125's. I think they had, and have, the best seat pitch of any standard class train in the UK; certainly any I have used regular in the last decade.
Saturday, February 6th, 2010
Canterbury non-tales
The Little Britton Festival 2010 is on hold. It will not take a genius to work out why, or the links to some of what follows (Hark at me! Agatha Christi's Death of a Sales Pitch! Can you work out how the deed was done? Well according to my experience of watching afternoon digital t.v murders with my mother, it is usually bleedingly obvious; as it is in this case, at least to me.).
I had meant to go on a long trip to Canterbury to see a band. I would have decided not to on Thursday, if it had not been for the fact that the concert was in the Methodist Church where Thomas Clerk worshipped.
Trotters
Yesterday I cut pigs trotters I had bought for my parents in half. I did the first one with a big knife and wooden mallet. The second was done with the use of the wood saw my mother keeps in the garage for just such a job.
We cooked them last night, and after much low key and soft spoken suggestion on my part (as those that know me would expect) we had them cold today. I also forced my mother to do nothing fancy with anything else. So we had pigs feet, laver bread, fried potatoes, and that is my dad's idea of food Heaven; and the carrots and bean sproats did nothing to move the location.
Crawley
After dinner (at midday, so you can spot our class if you are English) I was still dithering about Canterbury. When I finally decided not to spend a minimum of £30 doing that I decided to go and see Crawley Town.
The walk there was nice, along the route I once took to school, apart from the school being knocked down, and the footpath by the bike sheds now following the plan of a council that could not run a path from a tap to the plughole.
I had cider in the club bar, and talked to a Cambridge United fan who had traveled from Roundhay in Leeds. I told him my Cambridge Police story, and he was not surprised.
I then joined the queue at the turnstyle, and left it when I could read it cost £16 to get in. I am sure I have written about doing this before on this blog; but obviously writing stuff down does not help me remember. Lesson plans? Writing them never helped me when I was a teacher.
Beer
I then went to the Downsman. Now run by a very middle class Indian couple. They have fixed the leak in the roof; cleaned the place; and all the beers were fine.
I met Paul, who lived with my schoolmate Tony Bailey's sister. I had several pints and chatted. It was nice. There were lots of young children in, including one 1 year old lad who had obviously just learned to walk, who kept making a run for the dark corners, stopping to investigate the fruit machine on the way. Every so often his dad or grandpa would carry him back to the family by his braces; which obviously encouraged him to run off again, At one point he was being chased by an older woman who kissed him when she caught him, who must have been all of 18 months.
Friday, February 5th, 2010
Like a big, soft puppy
English bad
English is, in many ways, a wonderful language; and while I am not proud of being able to speak only that one language even remotely well, I am grateful that that language is english (and yes, I do know I have spelled it with a small case 'e'. I had done so for well self argued reasons, that I may come back to, if I remember).
The down side of only being able to speak, and more especially write, this language is that the pathetic number of letters (the lowest of any with a Latin alphabet, and the capital L was deliberate).
The low number of letters means it is impossible to spell out sounds.
Pit Bull Noise
How would you write the sound a well trained pit bull terrier pup would make that was allowed near the table while the family was eating, but knew that actually asking for food would result in locking in the kitchen. It is a noise like rubbing wood with a cork. I can only make it in my nose, and the best I can write it is eeiiiii.
There's lovely
I met one of the loveliest women I know today. She remembered my name, told me about her life, asked if I had written anything new, and wished me well. eeiiiii - eeiiiii - eeiiiii.
Johnny Logan and swearing
I was in the Swan, West Green. The jukebox was playing loud, modern, sweary music; but nobody in the pub was actually swearing. That all changed when I put a quid in and chose Johnny Logan.
Chili
Made a chili this morning, It was very good. My dad ate it and seconds. He also ate noodles with it, a possible historic first. He even stayed calm when it took 15 minutes longer than I promised; but that is probably down to me slipping into the sitting room at calculated intervals to put more beer in his glass.
Not a bad day at all.
Thursday, February 4th, 2010
Ho hum
No mention of the Little Britton Festival tonight on Radio 3. I cannot pretend to not be disappointed. It is not directly a gig of the tribute band that was playing, the band is obviously more complex than just David Wright as leader, and all my contact has just been with David; and July is a way away.
On the other hand the band has no gigs booked other than the one on Saturday they were there to advertise, and the merest mention would have made the Little Britton so much easier to sell.
No slight, but still the weight of being the only one taking the show seriously is no lighter.
The update for the Britton page, and the PayPal button creation, are at least a job out of the way; but I have taken the links to it off my homepage. I have a show to do in a few weeks and need to concentrate on that.
In fact the rush to fix everything before today's broadcast may not have been the best way forward. It would have been much better to leave it until after Walburgas.
Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010
...for Harry, England and St. George!
There are now PayPal buttons on my bradwan site to buy tickets for both the Walburgas Show on 25th Feb and the new Little Britton Festival 2010 in July.
A reminder that the Britton show should get a name check on Radio 3's In Tune on the 4th Feb scheduled for 17.15' when the Harmonious Society of Tickle Fiddle Gentlemen play.
I also urge you to listen to Radio 3's Composer of the Week, about William Walton. Wednesdays, about Walton's WWII film and radio work, including Henry V. I wish that the stagey and over blown style could still be produced, as opposed to the tossy and over self regarding style of today.
I had forgotten that I had declaimed the most famous part of the play in Crawley Library last year on St. George's Day. It forms part of a page from my Walburgas (forgetting - forgiving). If I do it again I will do it better for having Walton playing in the back of my head.
I am enjoying cooking for the family. Today I ordered my mother to Get of my kitchen! In a piece of theatre both actors enjoyed. The dinner was not bad either: griddled, pre-roasted, pork ribs with mustard; chilli mushrooms and spring onions; and cous-cous with mint and roasted pepper. This is the first time I have cooked cous-cous, and while it is quick (pour on boiling water, mix and stand for 5 minutes) it ends up tepid; or you chill it, when it turns into a mix of dust and glue stick. A microwave might do better for it). I offered dad the last cooked piece of meat, and when he did not take it I ate it and the rest of the mushrooms. He cleaned his pate and set of for more. He had to make do with scraps.
Monday, February 1st, 2010
What Southern trains do from a great height
Writing things down does not help me remember
I am sure I have moaned on here about the vast increase in cost of day returns to London, and Capital Cards; at least I did after I said How much? today.
Having said that I must remember that red haired Jodie of the Betsey Trotwood paid for a Little Red Head Book, which I need to post. The Betsey is the top of my Sold books to barmaids table.
www.notoiletonthistrain.co.uk
This is not a really website, yet, but it is needed. I went in the last pub I visited today (the Cock, a Sam Smiths pub, managed by Nichola, near the BBC's Broadcasting House) just because I guessed no toilet on the Southern train back would work. I was right. So Southern Trains are wholly responsible for me drinking a pint of Old Brewery Bitter, and a Sam Smiths malt whisky (which is very good, but the only thing priced at about the national average, so very expensive for a Sam's house).
Toilets on trains do not work for all sorts of reasons, but almost all of them are because too many train companies are incompetent and greedy, and cannot run water down their own leg. They take the piss by stopping customers having one, and they do that because they cannot be bothered running trains through a depot often enough to empty the slurry tank, because trains do not earn money in a depot. It is no coincidence that the toilets on Cross Country trains work better since Virgin stopped running them. It is no surprise Southern Trains' have no working toilet after noon.
Fight at a poetry group
I was in the Horseshoe to confirm dates for the Little Britton Show. The landlord said the only fight he had ever had in the pub was on a poetry night! A more than usually mental would be contributor heckled so much that the bloke on stage tried to punch him, others piled in, and the organizer picked up a chair to try and hit the heckler. No damage was done (although, having moved the chairs before the last Little Britton Show. I bet the organizer did himself a mischief). The heckler then called the police (the landlord refused) and when the big, burly copper turned up the first thing he said to the landlord was Please tell me this is wind-up about a fight in a poetry group..
Jumpers remembered
Jodie is not only a good looking and very professional barmaid, but also has a good memory, as she remembered my iKnit jumper (see My Mother's Knits for examples). I am not sure she would have remembered me if I had not been wearing it, but at least she has told all her friends about it, and bought a book.
BBC
I delivered the first Walburgas card to Sean Rafferty of BBC Radio 3's In Tune. I also included a draft poster for the Little Britton Show. David Wright and his Britton tribute band are playing for him on Thursday's show, and I wanted to help ensure the show we are doing in July got mentioned. I got sent to the 'Courier delivery' window, in a different building, as well marked as a standard British B road. If I had not asked for the actual name of the place I was looking for I would have wandered about like a SsangYong driver trying to find a new cat food shop.
What else did I forget?
Well, I would have gone to check the site of the fancy dinner featuring A Month In The Country in the West End, and probably gone to St Pancras as well, if I had taken my insulin with me. The only health consequence was not eating, drinking less, and returning a lot earlier.
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