Where's Hitchcock?

Some birdies have appeared on my hall wall. Some of the pics are taken at weird angles to get them in, some of them aren't dry at time of taking pics, so pencil marks and smudges remain. And there are more to come - when they're done.

Bimbling around the country

Whew! It's been a busy couple of weeks, although not really hugely interesting, but here goes anyway! October press week was a bit weird with things coming in late, but managed to get issue out on time anyway.

I spent a few days in the Lake District going to see a solar installation, which was fascinating. We stayed in the Prince of Wales at Foxfield, and ate at the High Cross, Broughton-in-Furness.

The Prince of Wales was a little gem with comfy room and a landlord who makes sure his guests are well looked after. The whiskey list was intimidating in its length, and the landlord also owns the Tigertops micro-brewery in Wakefield, so good beers were on tap.

Kendal.

The High Cross dished up the biggest meals ever. The hors d'oeuvres were the size of a normal person's main meal, and the pudding defeated me. Sugar never defeats me, but this one managed it.

We visited the Hawkshead Brewery which was very interesting and I liked their lager. Unfortunately I don't much like ale, so couldn't appreciate those.

Overcast in Cumbria.

We made a whistle stop visit to Kendal, which was quaint. And the scenery of the surrounding areas was stunning even under overcast skies.

The only downside was the sneezing woman I was next to on the train up there. Three days later and I was full of cold.

We had the Awards judging on Tuesday which was conducted by a really good crowd so it was easy in terms of personalities, and kind of fun.

On Wednesday I was in Cambridge again, at the Regional College. The city is still there, and it's growing. New developments abound.

Saturday was the Vee festival at Brands Hatch which was very civilised. Only one visitor at my post. There were a few slides in the gravel around and about, but only one spectacular incident where the car delivered himself directly to a marshal post while on fire. It was quickly dealt with and the driver's fine.

Oh! And on one of the races, the first and second place, who were fighting for first, managed to take both of themselves out of the race on one of the last laps which was amusing.

And then there was sis and dad's birthdays on Sunday with yummy food and great company as always. Had first thump from nephew-to-be. Hee!

Also, following on from bathroom effort last year, have made staircase bannister pattern. Not yet sure about it, but think it might be alright. Especially after I finish doing things with big blank wall opposite.

Strange man on a train

A little story about a man on a train last Wednesday evening.

There I was sitting in my usual spot in the over-crowded first carriage Ashford-bound from Victoria, reading Bill Bryson's 'A Short History...' and ignoring my neighbour and two other people standing in the aisle who were also reading it.

Somewhere around Bromley, the train emptied a little bit to just about full up, with a handful of new people joining us. One of the new people was a rather aesthetically pleasing young man carrying an open tin of lager and the remainder of a four-pack.

Many ladies on board appreciated the scenery with sly looks - he was, after all, in his mid-twenties, blond-haired and blue-eyed with a pleasing face, and rather nicely tanned muscles - the type acquired on a work site, not a gym - shown off with a sleeveless t-shirt and snug jeans.

Many people also raised an eyebrow at the lager. But he wasn't behaving drunk, and many of those same people liked to have a mini wine now and again on the train - especially on a Friday.

The man sat across from me in the only space left and proceeded to finish his can off while frowning at his mobile phone. The immediate opening of the second can caused raised eyebrows to be accompanied by disapproving frowns. And then his phone rang. Clearly it was a friend. The only side of the conversation that was audible went something like this:

"No, I can't make it, I'm going back to mum's."
"Yeah, I know, but I lost my job, so I can't come out, I've got to sort something else out."

Raised eyebrows and frowns melted instantly away to sympathetic nods and the odd maternal 'poor lamb'.

Apparently his social network contained many tom-toms, for as son as he'd finished that call, another came in.

"Yes, that's right, I lost my job. I got sacked."

Suspicious looks abounded.

"I had an argument with the foreman. It's been coming a long time, I don't like him, and he doesn't like the way I work, and it came to a head."

Suspicious looks replaced by lots of sympathetic nodding and the odd paternal 'brave man, arguing with the boss, takes a lot of guts to do that these days.'

A few other phone calls of almost exactly the same nature occurred, followed by peace and people getting off at various stations. And then, as we were headed into the Maidstone area, he received a string of text messages.

He started swearing as he read them. Under his breath, and followed by a general apology to the carriage, but that was okay - he was clearly having a really bad day.

At Maidstone, the carriage emptied and it was just him and me. He spent a while trying to get a signal as we passed through tunnels and a narrow cutting, and finally made a connection.

"Hi mum, I'm on my way home, I lost my job."
"Yeah, well, I had an argument with the foreman and got the sack."
"Well, I didn't go back after I walked away, but I'm assuming I've got the sack."
"Well, I might have lost it a little bit with him."
"No mum, I might've hit him."
"Yes, mum, but your idea of losing it a little bit and my idea of losing it a little bit are vastly different things."
"By the way, the old bill will probably turn up."
"Because I just got a text to say the old bill had turned up to work."
"Well, I did hit him. And it might have been more than once. Or twice."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that, I'll only get six months custodial at most."
"Mum, it'll only be six months, not like last time!"

And at that point we came into Ashford and I was off that train and out the door faster than you could sneeze.

Travelling around the country

I'm well into silly season now, and have been wandering around the country. Last Thursday week was a flying visit to Saffron Walden, to which my Australian friend responded with 'what's a Saffron Walden?"

Scariness on the way up with a truck driver in front who had clearly fallen asleep. I say this because the dual carriageway veered gently round to the right, while he continued straight ahead. One wheel dangled over the edge of the parallel dyke before he woke up, and with spectacular pirouette across both lanes, brought his vehicle back under control.

I was  to spend the dayat The Nucleus, and upon arrival at the Chesterford Research Park, a very nice man at the gate asked me my surname. I gave it, and he looked intently at a clipboard before tentatively enquiring as to whether I might have a first name. I replied that no, I was born in the same factory as Sting, Madonna, Voltaire and Jordan and they only give us one name there. 

Last Monday and Tuesday I was over in Worcester, in the very lovely old Elms spa hotel in Abberley. It was a nice spa, but the most awesome thing was an experience shower. It had a few settings, but the best was the combined, which started with a torso shower, warm, accompanied by sage scent and birdsong. This lovely moment of tranquility was broken by a clap of thunder, a deluge of warm rain and lightning. A waft of menthol accompanied the storm fading into a light cold mist, then the reintroduction of the  torso shower and birdsong.

Butley Priory and me.

On Friday and Saturday I was in Woodbridge, Suffolk for a friend's wedding. She is very demanding and meticulous in her organisation, so much so, that the weather gnomes were too scared to give her anything other than the most glorious weather possible, even though it was the last day of September.

River Deben.

We stayed in a marvellous little B&B just outside Woodbridge with a good sized garden which we had lunch in. It's only fault was the exit straight on to a dual cariageway which pretty much meant selecting a gap, closing ones eyes, stomping on the gas and hoping for the best.

The wedding was in Butley Church, with a wonderful priest who sounded a lot like Peter Cook in the Princess Bride. The reception was in Butley Priory, which is in fact the the Gatehouse to the old Priory that Henry VIII had obliterated.

Woodbridge.

The wedding went splendidly and the expected hangover did not materialise - it might have thought about it, but a full English breakfast quickly made it think twice.

Saturday morning was spent mooching around Woodbridge and admiring the River Deben - despite the fact that it was mostly mud as the tide was out. The tide started rolling in over lunch, and then it was time to head home.

This week I'm in the office all week which will be a nice break.