Monday 10th September 2012

I can now reveal that being on Holiday is officially better than being at work. It is a Monday morning, and we have bottled another batch of beer, and i have mopped the floor as we did manage to mess it up, slightly. The house now smells like a brewery, which would not be a bad thing only it was just eight in the morning, and it is a tad early for beer, even for me. In an exciting move, we are heading to Tesco in a while to get ingredients for out Christmas cakes.

Yes, cakes. One is never enough. A couple of years ago, we tried one in November and had to bake another one to replace it. We don't marzipan or ice them, and just leave them with their cakey goodness and Christmas spiciness.

Friday seemed to go on forever until it got to five to four and it was time to head home. The technicians had come ashore early and gone home, so I had the office to myself, therefore my hearty laughing at the Kermode and Mayo film review went unheard except by me.

So, off to Tesco for a week's shopping, and ended up getting enough stuff to last the weekend. And once that was done and paid for, loaded up the car and back home and now the holiday could really begin.

And Friday night was spent watching football. Yes, now the Olympics and Paralympics are coming to an end, it means we must return, ashamed like a unfaithful lover to the old dependable. And England began their World Cup qualifying campaign with an away game against Moldova. I did have to ask Jools to Google Moldova to find where it was, as I really didn't have a clue.

Anyway, it is behind the fridge just to the lest of Romania, apparently.

And England strung together at least 5 passes, played well, and scored 5 goals; and yet managed to look unconvincing switching off several times, just before half time and in the second half and could have easily conceded goals. Just to remind you, by some quirk, England are currently ranked the third best team IN THE WORLD, which I suppose goes to show just how much you should trust information coming out of FIFA towers.

Saturday morning after breakfast we headed to Mongeham for some foraging action, so we can make jam and jellies. We knew of a footpath behind a garage that is just lined with plum and greengage trees. We picked a couple of pounds and then headed on up the A20 and M20 to head to The Weald for a tour of 'interesting' churches.

Each year English Heritage organises a long weekend where many buildings are open for people like us to visit and photograph. Last spring we visited St Lawrence at Mereworth; and while is it a wonderfully beautiful church, the doors were locked and we wanted to see inside.

First of all we headed inside the M25 to a tiny, but beautiful village on the edge of the Weald where stockbrokers and hedge fund managers have their homes with fine views onto the Garden of england. All along the main road huge gates with security cameras guarded the mock-Tudor mansions hidden behind mature trees.

We turned off down a narrow lane and headed towards to small village of Trottiscliffe; which is not pronounced the way it is spelt so to make the unwary visitor appear stupid. It is pronounced 'Trozli', if Wiki is to be believed.

At the end of a long dead end road leading to a row of cottages and an old stable block is the church. I don't think i have ever seen a church in a more perfect location, it is one of those places that you have to be going as you'll never just pass it.

There was a churchwarden waiting at the door and happy to answer questions and tell us the history of the church. Dominating the tiny church is, what I now know to be from Westminister Abbey is the biggest pulpit I have seen outside a er, cathedral.

We take our leave and head to Mereworth.



We were the only visitors at the church, we parked the car on the verge outside, took in the glorious design of the church before going in. First thing you do see is a pair of spiral staircases; one to the gallery and the other to the bell tower. And straight ahead is a simple wooden door leading to the main body of the church.



I won't try to describe the church, please use the link on the pictures to go to my Flickrstream. The design is glorious, and looking pristine as it has just been restored to its former glory. Or original glory.

Once again there was a churchwarden to greet us, offer us refreshments and answer any questions. It was a shame to have to leave but we were on a tight schedule as we had to be back in Dover by four as Jools had a haircut booked.



So we drove on and came soon enough to a wonderful village called Penshurst. Along with a fine looking church, a square of timber-framed houses, there was also a nice looking coaching in; so we found a place to park and headed towards the church.



We came to the square first; gloriously named Leicester Square, I guess because of the local family that owned the nearby large house. The houses all looked fine, if very old, and under a low passageway entry to the churchyard could be gained.



As at every church we were greeted by a warden, offered more refreshments and given a leaflet on the history of the church. I like to think I got a particularly fine shot from under the bell tower looking down the aisle, and also in the Sidney Chapel, the private church of the local gentry.



Back outside to the Leicester Arms, and we had a nice cold beer along with a fine hot baguette each, which was us sorted until we got home.



Back into the car an on with the churches; and on to Spedhurst.

We found the church with little problem; I say little problem, but as the sat nav kept having hissy fits and sending us in the wrong direction before having second thoughts. Anyway, we parked on the side of the road and entered the churchyard through the lych gate, and were greeted with a fine avenue of mature trees, which had been trained for form natural arches. It was a fine way to enter the church, under the green canopy of the trees.

Inside we had a very warm welcome indeed, a history of the church and a list of the interesting features thrust into our hands, and another warden showed us round telling stories and tales of those that had helped to design of create the features inside the church.

The warden at Spedhurst stressed that we should not miss Groombridge, and as that was next on our list, that is where we headed to next. At least by now the churches were just a mile or two apart and we were rattling through them.

St John the Evangalist is a small chapel, once part of a large estate, dominated by many wonderful 18th century windows and a single handed clock. An old gentleman welcomed us and handed us another leaflet. The mechanism for the clock sits in front of one of the windows, and it's loud ticking and tocking fills the church.

Time was now running out, and so we headed along a very narrow lane through the woods above Groombridge to the village of Ashurst.

Nestling on a small triangle of land surrounded by roads or lanes, the church has a simple white clapboard tower. Inside, the church has been restored in the past year, and it's walls painted brilliant white, perfect for showing off the glorious stained glass windows

Our time had run out and so we headed back to the car and headed for home.

Or so we thought.

Seems like the sat nave thought we lived somewhere on the M25 and after pressing the 'navigate to home' button took us north to Dartford. We did realise this and headed down the M20 and home.

That night we had Nan round for dinner and I cooked steak and ale pie along with fresh veg; all very nice even I say so myself.....

Thursday 6th September 2012

And so into Autumn we go. Nights are noticeably cooler and mornings are dark and misty. Hedgerows are laden with blackberries, although sloes are in very short supply and so there is probability that there will be no sloe gin this year. Apples are also scarce, or some varieties are anyway.

So, yesterday I had the morning off as I had to attend the local surgery for a blood test. I can tell that it was at least red. I will go back in just over a week for the results and see where we go from there.

Instead of driving, I decided to walk over the fields to The Droveway; it was a grey and gloomy morning, but pleasant enough. It gave me the chance to look at the hedgerows and see where the fruit is growing, and I tried a couple of blackberries just to ensure that they are sweet enough for jams and crumbles. Good news they are. In a surprising move, it would appear that I lost 4Kg in the last week; something I doubt and I tempted to say that one of the measurements was wrong. However it was added to my notes. There can be no doubt that weight-wise this is a drop in the ocean…..

Walking back the sun came out, and whereas the land had been all drab browns and greys, were now alive with russets and reds. I took a few shots because I could and walked home for a coffee and a very late breakfast. I decided to work from home, which is what I did, and so the day passed rather pleasantly in all honesty, with the back door open and a pleasant breeze blowing through the house as the day warmed up.

In the evening I sat down to get stuck into the History of the NME book Jools bought me for my birthday, and in four hours worked my way from 1966 all the way to 1980. It was rather enjoyable I have to say, doubly so when I put Massive Attack’s Protection on, and then Massive Attack vs The Mad Professor’s No Protection, the dub version of Protection. Not sure of the neighbours were too happy with the heavy bass vibrating items off the shelves.

And finally, a new day, a new cold.

Yay.

Another night’s poor sleep lay ahead.

Sigh.

Here are some wise words from Robin Ince, erstwhile science partner in crime of the brilliant Dr Brian Cox, taken from his blog:

“One of my favourite train journeys is from London to Cornwall. It is a pleasant, sometimes beautiful, crossing through the pastures and countryside of southern England, but from Exeter St Davids to Newton Abbot it can dazzle and enlighten even when an umbrella of storm clouds overshadow it. The rails are as close to the sea as any train line I know. Tunneling through the cliffs and then almost avalanching onto the coast, it is a vision of the immensity of nineteenth century endeavour. If you are not content mulling over this feat of engineering (while trying to put the number of casualties incurred in its construction to the back of your mind), then you can enjoy the natural beauty of the sea which, on a stormy day, spits on the train windows. And if that’s still not enough, you can enjoy the views of crazy golf and deckchairs that have a nostalgia of things past yet still functioning. It is the remembrance of the smell of a cake immediately followed by being offered a plate of that same cake (I’ve not read Proust, but I’m told smelling cake figures prominently in his work) .

Looking out of the window on Friday, the rocky beaches of Dawlish were busy with children peering into rock pools in threes, fours and fives, looking for something of interest left stranded in a natural zoo created that morning by the tide. As I looked at this succession of images of inquiry, made flick book like by the trains rapid progress, I thought of my own son’s excitement at any crevice or pool. Those hours of holiday hope on the beach, waiting for something to surprise him with its shape or colour or movement, creating a multitude of questions, many of which I probably couldn’t answer without later recourse to my own childhood Ladybird book of the Seaside. This is one unchanging thing. However much society seems to change, whatever dire warnings are given that the delinquents are on the rise, children still look down in rock pools with hope and excitement. Our duty as adults is two-fold, to encourage that inquisitiveness, and to not lose it ourselves.

Carl Sagan once wrote, “Every kid starts out as a natural-born scientist, and then we beat it out of them”. It is a pity that from pub conversations to political diatribes, being cocksure is far more important that being correct.

There should be no shame in being inquisitive, unless your inquisitiveness involves placing video cameras in a public toilet or being overly enthusiastic in prodding dog faeces with your bare hands, but the older we become, the more we seem embarrassed to have questions. Once our schooling is finished, so our questioning must end. It seems better to appear knowledgeable and remain ignorant, than to admit to any limitations. “Why did you burn down the old people’s home?” “I thought I had misheard the instruction, but I didn’t want to show myself up by asking the lady to repeat herself. Yes, it was a mistake and many died, but let’s remember it was burnt down with confidence, and of that I am proud”.

We pretend to know bands or places or people because it seems to embarrassing to reveal our ignorance – “oh yes, I have heard of Naked Picnic, they’re on Domino records aren’t they?” “I think I’ve been to Boblangley by the sea, is that where the monastery is made of post it notes and butter?” and so on…

In western civilization, many of us can be blasé about knowledge, once we know the way to the shops and how to plug something in we can get away with the main question of each day being “how much is that?”

We are bombarded by so much information and digital achievement that rather than seeing more, we can become blind to everything. There is so much to notice we end up noticing nothing. When I was sitting in The Camden Head attempting a conversation after a show, I looked around and thought, “less, less”. Obviously the bar is hectic with a multitude of booze brands, then the walls of adverts or imagery of jazz musicians smoking near a trumpet or whatever (I saw them all of them, I saw none of them), then a screen was showing some Samurai set Kurosawa or other while the music was set so loud no one could be heard, yet everyone was talking.

How do we attempt to maintain inquisitiveness?

If talking to teachers is anything to go by, formal education has the problem that targets are frequently set for knowing facts, but less space is made for inquisitiveness or instilling the desire to question and wonder why things are as they are. It is hard to work out an exam to test just how much interest people have in knowing more, so better they know the kings and queens of England by heart (something Michael Gove seems very keen to instill in the young, as if his education policy is hoping to create the best pub quiz team in the world). I am sure most people reading this have a story of them or some friend questioning a teacher’s version of events in class and being slammed down harshly with a hint of Stalinist glare for daring to question the official history. Rather than constantly changing what children learn with faddy curriculum changes, it might be better to think of how they learn and what they are learning for – is it to know, or is it to understand? I know some teachers chomping at the bit to just err a little from the curriculum to inject a little more fascination into their classrooms. At times it sounds as agonizing as John Peel being forced to play the official Radio One playlist with no room for Steel Pulse or The Delgados.

The fun of having children is that it is a constant challenge of finding answers and attempting to work out what may not need to require a full answer now. Oddly, the clichéd child question “why is the sky blue?” is one many of us can’t answer, though numerous sitcom moments should have had us reading up on it by the second trimester. A few weeks ago my son saw someone with cerebral palsy and he wondered why he moved in the manner he did. And so I set about attempting to describe why this man’s body behaved differently to his. At four and a half he many not be able to comprehend it all, but as I talked and worked out my explanation I had a greater understanding by the end of it too. A few days later, on a trip back from the circus, I was talking about an event of a few years ago. My son asked where he was when this happened. I explained that it was before he had started to grow in mummy’s tummy. He then asked where he was. Before I got back any further I was told that we would deal with earlier non-existence at a later date, so my son and I got back to I spy. Hopefully if I bring him up well enough, my son will know how limited I am by about eleven or twelve.

Some say that you need to stop and smell the flowers, but don’t stop at the flowers, look to the trees, the sky, the bus stop, the sand and the pylon. At least once a day every day I find myself wondering “why is that like that?” I take a little extra time out for conjecture, and then I go to my bookshelf, the library or the internet.

In my current show tour show (see www.robinince.com for details. A gauche plug amongst the sentences) I used to talk about being delayed on a train outside Oxenholme. I looked out of the window and realized that it framed more life than there is in the rest of the known universe. There may be a planet with a greater richness and variety of life out there somewhere, but we can be certain that we would have to travel in a method perhaps imagined but not yet possible to have the slightest glimmer of hope of finding such a place. It was a mundane thought but looking out of the window has not been the same since.

It’s that moment of reaching down to grasp a fallen acorn and having that split second realization that the actions of recognition, bending down, and picking up, and at the same time breathing, digesting and hearing, all without any conscious thought, is an achievement of billions of years of heredity, mutation and replication. A bog standard human performing an everyday act that cannot be replicated with the finest factory made equivalent.

When things are new, we marvel at their novelty, but that soon wears off and they are just something waiting for its built obsolescence to occur or to remain forever unnoticed. At End of the Road festival this year, as I was only there for 48 hours I thought I wouldn’t bother with queuing for a shower, instead I relied for the shell of cleanliness that a few baby wipes can provide at morning and night. The idea of daily showering seems so much part of our lives that some people were a little taken aback at my decision even before I could have stunk beyond my normal level. And I thought, go back a few years, bathing was frequently a weekly thing, a horror or delight on a Sunday with an extra one on a Wednesday for the lucky (see the fild Deep End for more background). When hot water became instantaneous it must have seemed like a wonder and yet now if it take 30 seconds for the boiler to kick in we start swearing at the tap.

As Charles Darwin’s letters and books show, when he voyaged with the beagle his mind was frequently “a chaos of delight”. It seems hard to imagine how astonishing the flora and fauna he saw were to man more used to collecting bugs in Victorian woodland, fortunately his evocative writing helps trap the sensation.

“the delight one experiences in such times bewilders the mind. If the eye attempts to follow the flight of a gaudy butterfly, it is arrested by some strange tree or fruit; if watching an insect, one forgets it in the strange flower it is crawling over”

Now we can experience the colours and the alien beauty of Cape Verde or The Galapagos Islands simply by watching television or purchasing a DVD, and the beauty is alien no more. On occasion we walk down a street we have walked down two hundred times before but look up to see a building we’ve never been conscious of before, and we need to be aware that that is one of many everyday things we are not noticing. There should be nothing childish about the childish enthusiasm of looking in a rock pool, it is human enthusiasm and thirst to know.

It only takes a little thought to sit and stare and then just add some thought to that, or to ponder. We think we have no time to ponder, yet how could we have no time when we have time saving contraptions in every corner. What happened to the time saved? I can’t have lost all of it tweeting and watching youtube?

Some people suggest we should live each day as if it was our last, but I wonder if it might be better if we live each day as if it was our first.

We need to tell children and remind adults why we have the society we live in. the television you watch, the hot water you enjoy, the painkillers, vaccines and seaside railways, are all the result of others inquisitiveness. How unthinking and unthankful should we be to enjoy the results of others imagination and questioning, while switching off our own.

FOOTNOTE

While on the Beagle Voyage, after a day on the Cape Verde Islands, Darwin is awe struck by what he has see and writes, “it has been for me a glorious day, like giving to a blind man eyes”. The poet Ruth Padel, a descendent of Charles Darwin wrote a lovely collection of poems on his life – succinctly title Darwin: A Life in Poems and one is titled Like Giving a Blind Man Eyes. It can be found here.”

I don’t usually copy other people’s words verbatim, but this stuck a chord with me. The news is always full of league tables for this, league tables for that, and how well is your local school screams the leader from the Daily (Hate) Mail? Back in 1999-2000, I undertook further training in the RAF, and had to pass various exams as part of my BTEC in weapon system engineering. (Bet that sounds exciting? It wasn’t really; long story, maybe I’ll write about that at TAS at some point, but it really is very old water under the bridge). Anyway, we had to learn various aspects of maths including complex numbers, various equations and the like; engineering science focusing on forces and electrical theory (AC and DC). And we had a strict timetable in which to pass exams and move onto the next subject or go on guard.

Whatever.

In short, we learned what we needed to pass exams, dump that and move onto the next subject. Now some 13 years later, I have forgotten most of the maths, all the engineering science and electrics. And this is what is going to happen to kids, just learning to pass exams, and not to learn for the sheer love of it. Because, its what we do when we’re adults; we learn because we want to. We learn to drive, work a camera or other stuff like why the sky is blue, why the wind blows. Science was never moved forward because 95% of kids at that school could get a grade C or better; stuff happens because people are curious. They enquire, find how and why things happen and move human knowledge on. Sometimes things are invented, like TVs or a new medicine, or we understand how evolution of the universe works.



We have a list in our heads, Jools and I, of all the places in the world we want to visit before we die. It begins with Japan, Patagonia, Yellowstone, Russia, China, Mongolia, New Zealand and goes on and on. And yet, every time we walk in our neighbourhood, and we stop to look, a flower of an insect stops us in our tracks and just amazes us with the complex design and beauty. Even more so when you point a macro lens at it and look at it on a computer screen. Is that what early scientists felt when they looked at an ant through a microscope? I guess so.



And this wonder can be seen in our little corner of Kent; every corner of the world has wonders to explore and find. Just this weekend I pointed the camera as some old flower heads growing in the hedgerow and saw little crinkly balls, like withered planets. And there are the butterflies of course. I was lucky enough to have a Red Admiral land in front of me on Sunday, and so got some really close shots. The detail in the insect’s face, the hair, the eyes and the long tongue are nothing short of stunning. And this is something we see in our garden almost every day at this time of year.

I guess I am saying that the world is a wonderful place, even in our back gardens; right under our noses. We don’t really have to travel to Japan to have our awe inspired, it can happen walking back from the shops. And shouldn’t we share our wonder with the world? I think we should. We I’m asked what we are doing at the weekend, I will honestly reply. Sometimes we will be looking in the hedgerows for fruit to make into jam or wine, or we might be looking for a particularly rare butterfly that we have heard can be found in a certain field, or maybe heading up to London to participate on Open House or visiting the Paralympics. Whatever we do, it will be incredible, and memorable. And there is a strong chance I will have photographed the event from every angle.

Six years ago, I was working delivering chemicals, a horrible job in all honesty, but at weekends I would spend in my living room reading The Times and watching a lot of sport on TV. My living room had one small window and it looked onto my back yard. Now, at every opportunity, I am out snapping away getting out and about just doing stuff. Am I happier now? Yes. And no. You see I did the sitting around watching sport because at the time, that’s how I relaxed, and I was happy. Now, we have no sport on our TV, or very little, and I balance the rest of the time with taking photographs and editing photographs. Although very different, I am just as happy as I was then. I do think of lost opportunities for taking shots, but then again I can always go back.

Jools tells me I shouldn’t just look forward, sometimes I should stop and look behind too, as that view is just as important and can be beautiful too. Sometimes we should just stop and look. Sit down on the grass and just enjoy the moment. Or moments. Or afternoon. And I do try to tell myself that it is impossible to photograph everything, and that sometimes to put the camera down and view things in my almost 20/20 vision. I did do that on at least one occasion, and if I put my mind to it could think of another. I’m sure we went out for a meal one evening and I didn’t take a camera.

Oh, and one last thing. I have realised that I can do without my mobile phone, and so when my contract expires next week I shall not be getting a new phone. All rather liberating I have to say. In fact it is not switched on at the moment as I am getting lots of calls from other phone companies trying to tempt me to their network, and I’m not really interest. I have realised that I just use my mobile when I am on the sofa to check Flickr, using out hub, so it’s not like I’m going to miss it at all! In truth, I haven’t really used my phone that much to actually phone somebody. It is always showing an error message that it’s memory is full. I have emptied most of the photographs, taken off the apps, and it’s still not happy. Maybe it will be happier when it is sitting at the bottom of a drawer when I am disconnected next week.

Wednesday 5th September 2012

And prey silence foe the 600th Jelltex blog. Its been a slog, but we made it. Together....

A moments reflection for the Olympic and Paralympic dreams currently being completed in East London.

Sadly, due to time constraints, we haven’t watched that much of the Paralympics; it is being shown on TV, live on Channel 4, but there isn’t enough hours in the day to do them justice. It was pretty much the same for the Olympics too; we wanted to watch as much as we could, but there was just too much.

Anyway, that aside, I really just want to write down some other thoughts on the Olympics in general. The whole event ends, apparently, at 16:15 next Monday, and then we really will be back to normal. Driving home from work, Radio 5 has live coverage of many events and goes to a reporter when a medal is won. It does feel so special to be a part of it all, even if it is just listening to the radio on my way home. I have sports news ticking over in a window on my computer, so every now and again I will check for news.



I first saw the Olympic site back in June 2009 when I went with my friend, Matt, to see trains at Stratford. We moved down to Pudding Mill Lane and were treated to views over to the stadium and other venues being built. Since then, Jools and I went up to snap a stream train passing the same location, and the stadium continues to rise up. And all through that time, no stories about how badly things were going, no accidents or mishaps were reported. Venues were completed on schedule, test events were run. The transport infrastructure was built and completed. High Speed rail ran from Kent under East London into St Pancras, a new DLR line opened running right through the concourse at the regional station.



All completed without fanfare and just worked. In truth the only bad news was the security guard fiasco created by G4S just before the games begun, but that was dealt with and we all moved on.

From what I saw on TV and in person on TV, was the sheer joy that was being displayed by everyone, especially the ‘games makers’, the volunteers who gave their time freely so we could all have a better Olympic experience. They were the cherries on the best cake I have ever seen. And then there was the sports, the athletes themselves; years of training for this one moment, and for British athletes, the chance in a lifetime to compete at a ‘home’ games. And then there was the 29 gold medals that were won on the Olympics and an ever-mounting number in the Paralympics. Just wonderful stuff.



OK, it isn’t finished yet, six more days to go, but I think we can safely say it has been a triumph; all the planning and hard work for what has been a pretty faultless four weeks of sport, without the much-expected disasters happening, and everything just worked. I hope that the rest of the world feels the same way about the London games, and think that we did a great job and the enjoyment shone through via the TV coverage.

This was our moment, and we took it and didn’t mess up.

And then there was the music.

We had been warned that loud pap music would be piped through the network of loudspeakers in the Olympic Park; but we found it to be an odd mix and one that kinda worked. I mean as we were sitting down for a coffee, Protection by Massive Attack came on. Jools and I differ on whether Protection is by Massive Attack (me) or Everything But the Girl (Jools), but we could agree it was Tracy Thorn singing.



Later, whilst walking to the basketball arena, I caught the opening bars of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now by the Smiths. Now, I’m a big a Smiths fan as anyone, but I am aware that that might not be an appropriate sentiment for the Olympic Park; but that and coupled with one Patrick Stephen Morrissey’s comments that he hates the Olympics for all the jingoistic flagwaving. But that isn’t the point, Moz? A couple of the games makers asked why I was laughing; it’s this song I said. Well, I explained as in the above. Oh, we were dancing to that she replied sadly.

Oh well.

In the stadium all sorts of classic pop music from the last 50 years livened up the gaps inbetween sporting events. It all seemed to work. Oddest moment, however, was as we were walking out of the stadium, when the opening bars to Here Comes Your Man by not-so-popular beat combo The Pixies wafted over the whole Olympic Park. I had been prepared for 24 hour Jessie J and One Direction, not the spirit of John Peel behind the desks.

Monday 3rd September 2012

So, Friday afternoon rolled to an end, and it was time for the weekend to begin. We met up in the crowded aisles of Tesco in Dover, before heading home. And so begun two days away from work. Friday evening means getting our weekly does of The Don; Monty that is with tips and some gardening porn. Phwoar! Look at the stamens on that!



Saturday morning we were up at a quarter to six so we could catch the six forty-four train from Dover as we were heading to the Olympic Park for a morning of Paralympic action from the main stadium. So, we got seats on the train, and waited for departure. What was good to see was groups of young people getting on the visit the games. The on-train manager began his announcement ‘Ladies, gentlemen and Brownies’ which brought a smile. As we journeyed through Kent we collected more and more passengers; until at Ashford it was pretty much standing room only. Great to see.



We all got off at Stratford and made our way up from the platform and following the signs through Westfield towards the first ticket check and then the security checks. It was all done pleasantly, with everyone smiling, and so well organised that there was hardly any delay. Once through security, we had a couple of hours to kill before the events started in the athletics arena. We walked over to the base of The Orbit; Jools got a coffee for us, and we sat down to take in the views.



I wanted to get some shots of the other venues, so I headed off past the stadium and over the multi-coloured walkway towards the velodrome and basketball arena. And everywhere people were smiling. But also everywhere was corporate branding, Cadbury’s stalls selling snacks and treats, and lots and lots of Coca-Cola stalls. And if you had no money, you could only use Visa cards; Something that still rankles with me. But, there were other, non-branded places to eat: fish and chip shops, curry stalls, Chinese places and so on.



I made my way to the velodrome and basketball arenas to get my shots. And then there was just time to head back to meet up with Jools so we could take our places in the stadium for the beginning of the morning session on the track and field. The stadium is wonderful, with great views even from where our seats were near the back. As ten o’clock approached, the atheltes made their way out onto the track to be presented, and then the competitions began. Shot-put, discus and various sprints on the track. And as time went on more and more events were happening; the long jump began, with the crowd clapping along as each competitor prepared for his run up. All wonderful stuff.



And at just before half eleven, the T42 200m final was due. This is for athletes with one or more limb missing, and was won in spectacular fashion by Brit, Richard Whitehead in a time just 5 seconds slower than the Olympic 200m; and this by a man whose legs had been amputated above the knee. As he did his lap of honour,t he emotion of it all became too much and my eyes began to water. It was that kind of moment.



We headed down onto the concourse to find something to eat; Jools had curry whilst I queued for a Spanish sausage. £8.20 for the sausage and a bottle of Coke; about the same at Wembley, but eye-wateringly I imagine if you had a family to feed. We went back to ours seats and watched more of the events, before deciding that we should catch the one fifteen train back, as we did not have tickets for the afternoon session. We walked back through huge crowds, and followed signs to the station. So easy that we arrived in time to catch an earlier train. After changing at Ashford we were in Dover by two and home ten minutes later.



After coffee I lay on the sofa listening to the football on the radio; Norwich were on playing at White Hart Lane, and were unlucky not to win, coming away with a 1-1 draw and high praise from the commentators.



That night we watched The Proms; it was another one of the #Hooray for Hollywood’ nights, and Seth McFarlane was on again singing songs from the great MGM musicals. Wonderful stuff.



Saturday night the flu came back and I got little sleep. So on Sunday morning the last thing I felt like doing was driving up to London. We had tickets to see the wheelchair basketball, but it really wasn’t going to happen. Jools asked what I thought, and I said I really couldn’t face going. So, after making that decision, we went out for a walk instead, over to the woods and Kingsdown and back. On the way back I went to the glade and was greeted with more butterflies than I have seen there, dozens of red admirals; I got close and waited for one to land in front of me and the camera; then got my shots.



Back home, I checked the shots, had lunch then settled down on the sofa to listen to the football; and snoozed on and off all afternoon. It was a pretty good way to spend the day. Once the games finished, I cooked steak and ale pie for dinner. So ended the weekend with Jools testing out her new brazier, and into the evening burned several weeks of garden waste.

Friday 31st August 2012

And so the final day of August rolls round.

Last night I watched some of the Paralympic coverage on C4; a bit hit and miss with little coherency to be honest, but it did end with GB vs Germany in the wheelchair basketball. There is no doubt of the courage and strength of the athletes, although that may sound condescending; it isn’t. To see people hobbling, of in wheelchairs getting to the side of the pool before the start of the race, and then trying with all their might to win. Nothing less than was seen at the Olympics, and if anything this was for more moving.

All yesterday the wind did blow and the rain did fall. Thunder and lightning crashed around. It is still summer. But felt like autumn. To emphasise that point, last night was decidedly chilly. I closed the windows around the house and got the thicker duvet out of the wardrobe. It was needed.

And so a time for reflection: my first blog on this site was four years ago next month. In fact that first post detailed events from the end of August. It doesn’t seem that long ago, does it? How different those posts were; reporting about the wedding and visiting glamorous places like Tuscany, Hull, Grimsby, Lerwick and Kazakhstan. Looking back and reading those posts from the first year, I see how unhappy I was with work. I hated working for Gardline; their inability to be able to organise anything drove me mad. I left them at the beginning of 2009. Had I have stayed with them, we would be tens of thousands of pounds better off. It is easy to think like that, and it is true. But then again I was so unhappy, could I really have stayed there?

In the end, we have to live with our choices and decisions and not ponder the ‘what ifs’ of life. We just have to get on with things. Once thing is for sure, I am happy with my life now, with the choices I made. Being home most nights.

Thursday 30th August 2012

So the month rushes to an end, and it ends the same way as it begun; with a festival of od sport in East London. Last night the Paralympics began with another stunning opening ceremony. We didn’t watch it to be honest, we should have done I know. I heard there was a rocking version of Spasticus Autisticus played at one point. Ian Dury would be happy. We watched a documentary on the siege of Stalingrad. Shattering stuff as the Germans first ground the Russians into the dirt; and then once the weather turned the Red Army launched an offensive marooning the German forces. More Russians died in the siege that Britains and Americans combined died in the whole war.



I got back home from work last night, drew a deep breath and climbed the stairs to the spare room and did a session on the cross-trainer. And I did the full half an hour, which was good, and enjoyable. I do realise there is a long, long way ago, however, I have begun the journey.

Again.

I have been working from home today. No, that does not involve sitting in the garden in the sunshine drinking cocktails. Not today anyway. Anyway, there have been a series of downpours and thunderstorms sweeping in from the north, getting so dark I couldn’t see the keyboard of my work’s laptop. Oh wait a minute, theres a light thing to handle that; look: I said let there be light, I push the switch and there was, is, light. The think of everything.



Being home means being bothered by the cats, one at a time, asking for; a stroke, food, another stroke, more food. You get the idea. It passes the day. And tomorrow is Friday and after that is the weekend; which is great, right? And we’re off to London to see the Paralympics.

Weeee.

Wednesday 27th August 2012

So, I went to the doctor’s yesterday to see what he said about my back. As its been a couple of years since I was last there he did a number of checks including a weigh in. In all honesty, I know I could have done better this year with my weight, but I have been on the cross-trainer, we have been eating better. But I guess I have been slipping back, certainly these last few weeks with two, if not three meals a day in Denmark. And we really haven’t been out walking as much as we should.

We all like to delude ourselves that things are not as they seem, that it’s our clothes that have shrunk not us that has grown bigger. There can be no dispute, no argument, that things have to change, that we really will have to change and keep that change. We are now coming into the autumn, it will be cool enough to go on the trainer anytime without kidding ourselves it will be cooler later, I’ll do it then. Eat less cheese, use smaller plates and just do better. I’ve done it in the past and so can do it again. I have to, there can be no avoiding the fact I’m 47, and warnings of cholesterol and high blood pressure cannot, and must not be ignored.

I still think we’re not far away from where we want to be, but just not tempted by the snacks, and just eat what we need. And be more active. Oh, and cut down on the booze. I, in all honesty, have never been what could be described as a big drinker, but going from a drink a couple of times a week has switched to a drink most days. The switch to having a glass of water with a glass of wine has slipped and now its one glass, two glasses. So, restrict drinking to the weekend, and then just with a meal. And we shall see.

In other news, London once again is set to become the centre of the sporting world when the Paralympic Games opens this evening. We are heading to the games on Saturday and Sunday, and we can’t wait to get a feel for the games. It should be one of the highlights of the year. We will be in the main area on Saturday to watch the athletics, and on Sunday in the Excel to see the wheelchair basketball.

Norwich won their first game of the season last night, 2-1 against Scunny in the league Cup; maybe from this small acorn a fine season will grow. The transfer window is set to close on Friday evening, so stand by for the usual hectic scenes as players are transferred right up to midnight.

Outside the wind is blowing and the sea has white caps, it feels cooler, so an autumnal feel to the day? Maybe.