Gliding again

Here's the P1 (first pilot) who took me up for a flight yesterday. Many thanks to him too for organising the reunion. People were already there when I arrived around lunch time. We signed the insurance forms and put our names on the list for a guest flight.

Take off

Circuit and landing

Some of us had forgotten how cold it gets on an airfield, and shivered in too flimsy scarves and cloaks.

At four o'clock we gathered together in the Brown Elephant.

Our erst-while chairman gave us a short history of the club. Its original aims were:

• to make gliding accessible, affordable and enjoyable for people who might not otherwise take part
• a "self help" organisation
• to encourage an interest in glider engineering and flying

There were also heaps of albums and photos around, including the newspaper one of the K14 after an early solo pilot didn't make it back to airfield, was too low for Queens Parade, tried to land in a street, and ended up climbing from his cockpit through a bathroom window.


There was a super slide show too. So after the talk we stood and looked and reminisced for a while before repairing to our old Lasham haunt: the bar.

Gliding

Today is the Royal Aircraft Establishment Gliding Club reunion.

I used to glide a few moons ago. It is good to go to a reunion and meet old pilots, some still flying. I liked this photo we took at the interuniversity gliding competition. I was going to send it to the Open University Sesame magazine , but I never got round to it.

The glider is my Skylark 4, which I shared in a syndicate with three others. I've scanned and uploaded some other old gliding photos to my flickr site here. I have added photos from the Hobbits party because there's a lot of glider pilots at that party. See here.

Today

The newspaper hasn't come, so I'm already at my desk but with the radio still on listening to the Today programme. They're trying out viral marketing so have made a video Inside Today of what they say goes on behind the scenes. So it's interesting to see who the people are and where they work and who backs them up, but I'm not sure that I can believe it all. Look for yourself, either here or at YouTube and search for "ad AND Today AND programme".

I was hoping to find inspiration for an assignment for the creative writing course the OU does A174. The task is to switch on the radio and write a story from something mentioned on it. But as usual, all I get is distraction, so I'm neither writing my research nor the assignment, nor anything useful.

Tae Kwon Do Award

I'm well chuffed and gob smacked. Tae Kwon Do subum has awarded me the club Student of the Year award. Thank you to the black belts who nominated and supported me and taught me. This is so motivating.

Snow on the air field

I like to look at the view across the gliding field at La Motte du Caire. You can see it here on the club's web cam. A couple of days ago the clouds scurried across a grey sky, but today the light seems to have fader faster and there is snow on the ground.

Snowdrops

The snowdrops are out. There's a mass of them down the garden but I can't see them from my desk because there's a stone wall in the way. I can only see them if I stand up and stop working.

From where I'm sitting I can see the top pond, the bird table and an old blue tarpaulin that we used to keep the rain out of the conservatory. The cat sits on the tarpaulin, watching for birds and hoping that someone will appear from the conservatory door to feed her. The tarpaulin is warmer and softer than the pebbles. She has just woken up, cleaned herself a bit and now is curled up really tight again. Her fur is thicker than it used to be, perhaps because she's an outdoor cat and needs it to keep her warm.

New toy train

Husband had such a good weekend playing with model trains and grandson that Monday was sad. To cheer himself up he did some shopping therapy and has bought himself a big Lego train set. It's his, and it is to stay in our house, and people who want to play with it come here. He thinks his one grandson will have offers of help from willing aunts.

Model train exhibition

Husband and grandson enjoy model trains this weekend. We get grandparenting duty Friday night with grandson, while his big sister has an exciting weekend away with aunty at university. Husband and grandson came home from here enthusing about Lego trains, and the one that grandson crashed. Photos are available from the Risboro site - look for exhibitions and then Risex 2009, and our video's here.

Retiring husband

Husband spent a retirement day at home today. First he met Milly for one thing, and then she passed him on to Louise for something else. Then he spent time helping a local charity with their computers. He tells me that first he had to get introduced to Wendy, and then had a cup of coffee with Pat who wants him to talk to Lindsey next week. But he did fit in the time to meet Cherry as usual.

He thinks he's going to have to get organised, but if he's going to be meeting that many women then he'll be organised. How funny! He's spent most of his working life in a really technical environment where few women go.

Saving pensioners

The paper here says that old people are going to be ever so badly off because water bills will be so high - as high as £300 per year. But our bills have gone
down,
down
and down!

since the children left and there aren't long showers, and so much laundry to be done. We've gone down from something like £44 a month to £5. Husband says if we had one more teenager to leave home, the water people would be paying us for water.

Weekend - fledgling returning

Daughter's coming home for the weekend. And we have a child stopping overnight too. Good. I'm really looking forward to it. I'll get to read a bed time story and have an interesting chat over a leisurely cuppa or glass of wine.

Retirement looms

Husband says that he has heard that he is definitely retiring at the end of March. So he'll go from working three days a week down to no paid days a week, and have to occupy himself in the house and home seven days a week. He's been building up to it by:

• attending a local archeology course
• getting involved with the old town residents association
• building and displaying model trains
• advising the local Florence Nightingale trust on their IT, broadband and PCs.

Snow 18 years ago

This is son's first snow man.

Feather fight

I burst a couple of feather pillows and the fabric on an eiderdown was perishing. So it was sew or throw, like I said earlier. I've made a new eiderdown-come-duvet for daughter's bed when she comes home, and spare feathers to have a go at doing it better.

How does one make an eiderdown?

Dusty room

Weekend plans frustrated by snow, ( I was going to visit family in the north) I've spent most of the afternoon rearranging my study. For those of you who don't know, my "study" is literally a corner of the sitting room, growing off it like a carbuncle and separated only by a pair of long thick curtains, which if closed, darken the sitting room. This study has nine huge windows on three sides, which make the corner very bright, but also very cold in winter, and too hot in summer. So it hasn't got much wall space for books, and it's not conducive for cosy contemplation in winter.

To insulate the room slightly at the expense of light, I've moved the one large bookcase against one of the brightest windows, and put my computer where the bookcase was. I'll now be better able to watch the birds in the bird bath. I've thrown out a bin bag of old papers, and the dust has dried my nails, so they've split. Do other people's nails do that?

What I'd really like is to redo the windows so they open and close more easily and securely and less draftily, and have roller shutters, and a door that would open onto the patio so I can wander outside when study, marking, computing, or research gets too much for me. Oh! And I'd like the floor not to be carpeted, but wouldn't parquet be wonderful!

Snow work

Wake up - you can have a lie in!

Husband woke me at seven to tell me that it was too quiet for me to get to work, that is, there's no traffic to hear because there's snow everywhere. He was out by eight o'clock clearing snow.

The little pink smart car had a less smart driver at the time I took this photo. The SC driver managed the first 10 yards but got stuck there. Half an hour later after much phoning of SC driver's mother and labouring of neighbours little SM ended parked on the yellow lines just behind the junction, facing the wrong way and SM driver had decided not to join friends in High Wycombe today.

Vacuum cleaning

I bought a couple of the step daughters a vacuum cleaner - a brand that my mother-in-law insisted on buying for me 17 years ago so I know it's good. Nevertheless, I was well pleased with SDs' delight and use of cleaner. And SD#3's thanked me so enthusiastically that I'm well chuffed.

SD#3 rang all excited to say how she was using it and which of the tools she used to get round the furniture and which tools do the backs of the radiators - the land lady is doing an inspection tomorrow. SD#3 was eulogising about how great this vacuum cleaner is and how land lady is going to find the place sparkling clean.

My SD#3 needs to get out more.

Working at home - a bit

The weather is too snowy to go to work. I've been admiring the robin on the bird table by my desk.

The plumber brought his electrician brother to do the electrics for the shower. We now have a working shower. However, the tumble dryer is now disconnected. We have to move it and connect it somewhere else.

Bruised knuckles

Doce pares - it's a Philipine martial art in which you fight with sticks. But holding the sticks gives you blisters, and the least damage you get is bruised knuckles when your partner accidently hits your hands instead of slashing you from head to toe.

Working at home - NOT

I started editing my work around 8 o'clock when husband went out, but I stopped to open the front door to cleaner.

I wrote, but then the phone went, so I talked / listened for a bit. Poor daughter (SD#3) had had an exam where she was expecting to answer 8/12 questions, but found the format had changed and she was expected to answer 3/9. Yeuch! She had a rant.

I wrote, but then the plumber came, (he was expected). No water.

I wrote but then electricity went off. I investigated. Plumber had opened up the switch for the shower pump. Inside was a tangle of rat tail wires, with live touching the switch. Electrician can come on Monday so we still have no shower.

Switched electricity back on and started to make coffee.

I wrote, but then husband came home. He made coffee. I switched on computer to write, but then none of the peripherals came on. Peripheral plug had switched off when the electricity went off. Rebooted.

Cleaner hadn't enough money - sorted that.

I went out to book dental appointment, offer consolations at local jeweller that's just got robbed and buy some cleaning stuff.

I'll try writing this afternoon.

Son's bad day

Son rings up occasionally and we saw him last week for a cup of coffee at the Head of the River, but today he rang to say that he was all right, but someone had tried to burn his college down. This article explains a bit.

Burns Night - Nanna

My Nanna had a Scottish burr that I grew up with and never noticed until on the phone to her - I was 14 by then - phone calls were rare - phone was for my parents, not for me.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then .."

she said with beautifully rolled 'r's.

I remember her teaching me to roll my rs in her kitchen. And she gave me kippers for breakfast, but once porridge with no sugar. I love it now, but then it was "Ugh!" She taught me about Robbie Burns when she wrote in my autograph book:

O wad some power the gift to gie us
To see oursels as others see us!

So tonight - haggis, neeps and mash. Yum! Washed down with a tot of malt whiskey.

Rainy days are here

So the car's broke.

And now we know why our toilets have been flushing with hot water for years - the shower pump's broke and lets hot water in to the cold tank through a varicose vein valve. Fortunately, the plumber investigated in time to realise the pipe had perished, and any day we'd have had a big flood, and now we won't have.

But we'll have another big bill.

That's what savings are for - a rainy day.

Broken car

We went to Oxford yesterday to see a relative, his daughter and his grandson.

Positive things happened:

• We had a lovely chat & I got to know his daughter and to admire his golden headed 18 month old grandson - a potential engineer who was fascinated by our car's tyres
• We met my son and handed over what he'd forgotten to take back after Christmas
• I managed to retrieve my lost handbag from where I'd forgotten it in the Head of the River pub where we had afternoon coffeeWe went to a BCS lecture which turned out to be much more interesting than we'd anticipated
• I managed to retrieve my lost handbag from where I'd forgotten it in the Head of the River pub where we had afternoon coffee

Negative thing happened

Husband's car set its alarm when we parked it and when we came back it refused to open. Eventually three doors would open but not the driver's so he had to clamber over the passenger seat to get to drive it. Anyone who knows our garage space will work out his problems in parking the car in the garage, so he took it to get the central locking fixed. Mechanics looked at everything. And everything - well nearly everything - else is broke too, like brakes. It's going to cost a four figure sum to fix.

Danger

I read OneMinuteWriter blogger. Sometimes I have a go at writing for one minute using her timer. Today's task (yesterday's but it's still night in the States) was to write on the most dangerous thing you've ever done. I wrote:

Danger was gliding.

Dry throat - why was I always thirsty as I waited to launch - parched mouth - into the sky launched on the end of a rope, pulling upwards I can see the white of the clouds, like my eyes, and my heart beat loud.

Now I don't glide. I did it. Done that.

I think I was confusing the danger (statistically low) with fear. Gliding was scary but I wanted to do it. Now I get a bit scared doing tae kwondo, and I come away with more bruises in an evening than I did in a decade of gliding. So I reckon tae kwondo is more dangerous than gliding.

Funny how I can do activities without children - before they came I did gliding and now - twenty years later - now they've gone I do tae kwondo.

Post curry

Husband did a wonderful curry last night. He found the Madhur Jaffrey book circa 1980, all covered with turmeric stains, and did a rogan ghosh, which he pronounced too hot so he did a cucumber raita as well. It was delicious and he served it with whole meal rice, which I love, so I was very happy and very full.

Problems working at home

I'm getting little research work written today, because I don't have a word processor to write with, nor a VPN to access the file from my folder at work. Why?

Because I've got a new motherboard, but also everything from my old hard disk has been wiped, which shouldn't be a problem because I have backups - just a chore. And I need to reinstall software.

1. First find the disks. I scratch head but a walk to the coffee shop & a brownie help me remember where they all are
   
2. Then I have to remember registration code. This could be tricky if, like for Office 2007, they sent the code in an email, which is on the wiped disk so somewhere in back up. Fortunately, I'd copied the code legibly onto the cover.

I need to reinstall:

• XP so that gives me a browser, IE :(
  
• First Class client, to get the key for Kaspersky that the OU provides
  
• Kaspersky - do my virus checker and firewalls fast
  
• Firefox - get a decent browser
  
• Thunderbird - accounts aren't all working yet though
• Office 2007
  
• OU eTMA handler
• Olympus camera software
• Olympus digital recorder software
• Inspiration
  -great for diagrams and structuring writing
  
• Dragon - one of the drivers for this reorganisation because I wasn't running fast enough and didn't have enough space for its files so couldn't speak my writing onto files
  
• Macromedia, like Dreamweaver
• FTP - perhaps
  
• Java and Netbeans for tutoring OU M256
• Notepad++ for tutoring OU M150 & the M150 data disks
• Skype - for chats and phone calls
  
• VPN for work
• Family Tree Maker
• Winzip perhaps
• Tablet software
• Creative Livecam video perhaps
  

and turn on automatic updates for things like Microsoft service packs.

Then I have to find or recreate

• my email stuff, like address book
  
• templates that I created, like one for my tutorial plans
  
• the data: photos, emails, tax records, family tree files, Dragon voice files (I'll just start again)
  

So if I don't email you, it's because I've mislaid your email address. Please do email me so I can have your address again.

In the meantime, it's taking hours to install Microsoft service packs, so I can't use my computer for research. I'm stuck on this tiny eeePC, with its tiddily keyboard, but at least I'm still electronically in touch, if not yet productive.

Dancing with scarves

Belly dancing this term is with scarves and today's session was great fun, and easier than I thought it was going to be. But I didn't get to jingle my new belt as much as I'd hoped - daughter gave me a beautiful one for Christmas, deep purple with several rows of silver buttons.

Lovely night

A photo of the night sky from the back of our house.

Ada Lovelace day

Ada was a name that daughter's father and I had thought of calling her because I was a programmer, he taught me programming, we enjoyed controlling the computer, and Ada Lovelace was the world's first computer programmer, not a bloke, a woman. A geek as Brussels Girl Geek blogger writes here.

A thousand bloggers have pledged to blog about a woman in technology on March 24th. But who shall we pick? I don't know yet.

Vacuuming the washing machine.

Did you know you can wash feather pillows? But if the material is frayed, then put the pillow in something else first. Discovering my 30 year old pillows could be washed, I got too enthusiastic, and pillows burst in the washing machine, leaving grumpy husband to vacuum the washing machine clear.

So how do you dry a mass of feathers, which if left in clumps go mouldy and smelly? I dry them in our bath room, nice and warm, and turn the feathers over every hour or two. Keep them in open baskets and finally put them in the airing cupboard. But that left me with dry feathers, flying up in the static and the slightest breath and covering the bathroom carpet, so 'twas on a Monday morning that the vacuum cleaner came out again to clear the feathers.

I retain some sewing skills from decades ago. I've bought yards of some cotton material, threaded my sewing machine, remembered how to wind thread onto the lower bobbin, and am now creating something between a duvet bag and an eiderdown. I'm going to put the feathers in the bag and use it on daughter's bed - she was really cold this Christmas holiday.

I'm an accoustic illiterate

It's the end of an era because I'm finally getting rid of late-husband's electrostatic quad speakers. Am I letting him down? Do I say goodbye? Am I just acoustically illiterate? Yes. Thirty years I've tried to appreciate these space hoggers.

When I was trying to sell my old house, one viewer thought they were massive radiators.



I asked one of his university friends if he wanted them, but he never emailed me back. So I went down to the local audio place, that university friend had recommended, Northwood Audio, and asked them. The chap there said they were an acquired taste because of the space they need in front and behind them. I've never been able to give them that space. So I'll put them in the car soon and take them to Northwood.

So if you want them, you'd better tell me quick.

Post Christmas quiet

All is quiet again now. They've all gone back and I shall miss them. I shall miss the philosophical chats with son. We have debated the relative merits of particular approaches to research, and we had a great chat in the pub his last night home.

Daughter went back today. Her step-dad took her. Last night she was the chattiest she'd been for ages, and I really enjoyed her company.

Step-daughter #2 sent a lovely thank you card.

Step-daughter #3 got back to her rented house to find a huge electricity bill, and that her course work was many words too short, so wasn't so cheerful. But between us, I think her parents have helped sort those out a bit.

A ring at the door bell and step-daughter #1 is passing - 5 minute chat and away again. At least we have one child still with us and we have her children to look forward to as well.

Happy home

Nice son lit a fire for us to come home to, yesterday. He told me all the phone messages, the house was all tidy, and daughter was welcoming.

Most stressful day of year

I was looking forward to going back to work until I looked out of the window at the snow and anticipated the roads.

The paper says that today is the most stressful day of the year.

New Year resolution

New Year resolution has to be not to give up.

1. I have to support husband and our two families. I start by refraining from offering my three beautiful step daughters juicy apples and spinning wheels. I have already refrained from hanging a notice in the window:
"Three lovely step daughters
living here with wicked step mother,
need handsome princes to rescue them."


Fortunately two of them have already found their handsome princes, who are really nice young men, even to me, their step-mother-in-law. And step daughter number 3 has turned quite happy over the last year or two.


2. I'm going to carry on avoiding other people kicking me at tae kwondo, while not thumping them too hard. I like the exercise and the laughter, not the thumps. I might move up a kup if I grade and get another belt. That's one of the tenets of tae kwondo - perseverance.
   


3. Then there's the research work, which has its good moments and its bad moments. Never ever give up until the dissertation is handed in, in September 2010.
   


4. And I'll keep writing this. Thank you those people who tell me they read it and even mention it on Christmas cards to us. You are so encouraging. I really appreciate it.
   

Baby musician plays guitar

Youngest grand child is such a happy child, secure in a loving family with confident and content siblings. Here's a video of her listening to her musician uncle as he experiments with my old guitar.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0es8YNkuvNM

What's amazing is that such a young child can sit and concentrate for so long when so many children even years older than her cannot. It must be something to do with her ease, her comfort, her health, her security in her family.

Family video

Oldest granddaughter went around with the flip video and took this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CNtqbMa0ok

Surveyors

SD#2 is training to be a surveyor. She's already a qualified engineer but architecture and buildings fascinate her. So she arrived for Christmas and noticed the roof of our laundry house, which her father had retiled a few years ago. See the photo. She's never seen one like that before. She says that the tiles are supposed to be in two layers so that they overlap, but that it's probably okay on a laundry house. Her father points out that it means 40% fewer tiles, so is economical.

Economical might be what surveyors are in some cases. Our surveyor for this house missed a few small things, death watch beetle being one of them. Getting a couple of special surveys done to check what to do about the DWB and then fixing the problem cost us a big £five figure sum, which added considerably to the cost of the original economical-in-facts survey. SD#3 says that surveyors are corrupt, and they get bribes from people who want planning permission - I might believe her. Surveyors must have connived at the estate agents' suggested prices and the banks who gave mortgages. Estate agents get a bigger fee if the house price is higher. Mortgage givers will make more money if they lend for a bigger mortgage. Surveyors might have put some brakes on the house spiral, but didn't.

End-of-rant

Organist plays mandolin

We have an old mandolin that my mother-in-law gave me. It is decorated with ribbons that have German on them, so I wondered where it came from. During Christmas son-in-law, who's a professional musician and an organist picked it up, tuned it and started playing it. So I asked MiL where it came from.

Before the war, Rudi Hieak came over from Austria with it. He had been in the Vienna Boys Choir, and was a tenor singer in London, living up the road from MiL in Reigate Hill, and later moving down to Devon. When he died, about three years ago his widow gave it to MiL.

SiL has a musical sense of humour, not malicious, but fun, so for example, if you know what he's doing you might hear that rather than playing some solemn church music he's playing a some frivolous piece disguised underneath. Late husband had a school friend with the same clever sense of musical humour. Once at school, he tuned the school piano so that every seventh note was half a tone flat, then waited for assembly. Those who were tone deaf couldn't understand the laughter of those around them.

Visitors gone

House is quiet, quietish, again. SD#2 and husband have left for her in-laws, and Chinese Post grad has returned home to write up her first draft of her thesis. Having her to stay was fun. Daughter enjoyed her company, like having a big sister. SD #3 felt important and appreciated and helpful because she made up CPg's Christmas stocking and possibly SD#2 & SD#3 were slightly better behaved because of CPg's presence. And CPg knew who I was talking about if I mentioned people from work, and that was nice.

Daughter and I and CPg went shopping, and daughter had to slow down, not run, because CPg's heels made her wobble. Even SD#2's husband noticed her amazing stiletto heels - ever so high - see the photo.

Christmas day

Ten o'clock in the morning. All is calm. Husband and I have prepared the sprouts, he has prepared the goose which is now sitting in the oven waiting to cook. Son, daughter and visitor are still asleep. Son and daughter went to midnight mass, but although visitor & I meant to go, we were both so sleepy that we backed out, I literally at the front door with my coat on and yawning.

Visitor is a Chinese girl, a fellow PhD student who is desperately trying to start writing up her research. She's collected thirty interviews, transcribed them and then translated them but she's running late so working over the Christmas break when the university is closed. We've done her a stocking - or rather SD#3 mugged her dad for money and went and got stuff for her, like bouncing putty, a tiny flower press, a red scarf, some highlighter pens - useful for study work. I found her a head girl badge and added the traditional chocolate coins, apple and satsuma (why can't I find satsumas? I had to use a tangerine!)

SD#3 has spent the night over at her sister and husband's. She went to carol service with them and held the notes on the organ - she rang at 8 o'clock this morning to tell her dad not to get frazzled and that they were coming to see him not eat his food. I think he might be frazzled at such an early phone call!

How to make Xmas pud

Husband was stirring the Christmas pudding today. I took a video. See

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dw6Ozk5IUnM
and later I'll work out and remember how to make this a direct link.

Diabetic pains

Grumpy husband grunts as he tries to get his b* insulin sorted out.

• He doesn't get enough blood out of his thumb for the test strip
• The test strip won't sit well so as to leave a visible hole on the meter
• He can't get the blood on the pad

There's not a enough blood anyhow, so the test doesn't work, that strip is wasted and he has to start again! And he's hungry too and now has to wait longer till he can eat until he's sorted out how much insulin he needs.

Grr!

Sadistic subum

The Subum (means teacher) at tae kwondo was a bit grumpy tonight. As people arrived a tad late he stopped the warm up jog and made us do press-ups until the new-comers were ready. He wanted to do pad work but not enough of us had pads - these pads aren't cheap, so a family of four tends to have only one pair between them all. So he decided to do the tae kwondo twelve days of Christmas instead, with an evil scowl on his face.

1. burpy
2. squat thrusts
3. punches
4. star jumps working with a partner to clap as we jumped
5. front kicks
6. press ups
7. sit ups
8. side kicks
9. double punches (means 18)
10. jumping kicks
11. some other kick
    
12. some other exercise - does Subum think we're still moving?
    

He tells us this all adds up to 365 exercises, and so one for each day of the year, but I think it's 362 - how nice not to have to do three more. It's
1 * 12 twice, plus
2 * 11 twice, plus
3 * 10 twice, plus
4 * 9 twice, plus
5 * 8 twice, plus
6 * 7 twice
-----------
which is 24 + 44 + 60+ 72+ 80+ 82 = 362
Don't tell subum, or he' ll think up some evil excuse to make us to three more.

Christmas preparation

Christmas preparations include getting the pudding ready. I was going to put a short video here, but I haven't yet got the technology right to show it.

I've been wrapping presents for the surprise parcel - half a dozen for one nephew and half a dozen for the other. They get to unwrap them at their parents' leisure, not on Xmas day. Aunty P used to do this for us, and we'd unwrap them on Christmas Eve, that quiet wet dull day when school has finished, but you can't have your presents yet. She would find, wrap and send to all four of us - and she also had to deal with her own five children - what a lot of work! She used to send me pencils with my name on - really useful, and an Enid Blyton diary - fab! (means cool in today's lingo)

Mummy's recipes

Every now and again, a step daughter rings up asking for a recipe out of their mother's red recipe box. Daddy reads it out over the phone. He suggested putting them on our family web site but step daughter #3 prefers to listen, not to read them. So I have put them on the web site, but they are sound files. I got their father to read them out and I recorded them. There's only a couple up there so far, but I'll put up more as they're requested.

To listen to these files you need dss software, which you can download from here. If the link doesn't work, you are looking software for an Olympus DM-10 audio recorder.

And to find the family web site, you need to google for two of our surnames.

Belly dancing

This is Waly Waly, the dance that our teacher, Shiraz, has been teaching us and thinks we can all do. Ha!


I'm not going to publish this, although our teacher's happy about me taking the video. I don't have her written permission, and more important I don't know the copy restrictions on the music that she's dancing to. It's a pity because I'd like to have somewhere to watch and learn what she's doing and my home computer's not fast enough to display it. And I've not got the space left on the default drive where the software insists on keeping .

Privacy and caring

Daughter is becoming more and more protective of her privacy. She'd have enjoyed learning from the British Computer Society (BCS) Xmas lecture yesterday at Oxford, where Kieron O'Hara spoke on "The Spy in the Coffee Machine". Yes - a machine that notes how often you use it and lets someone know. It's been developed in Japan, where older people drink a lot of miso soup and green tea during the day. If they don't use the machine, then perhaps they're not eating and drinking, and there's something wrong, so the person who receives the information from the machine can go and check on their parent or aged relative.

So it's not really a coffee machine, but same idea. And I guess if no one reads or cares about the information, the aged person will be just as uncared for anyhow. I'm feeling peeved that BT isn't caring for my aged relatives - it won't connect them back to their phone line that AOL have disconnected them from, and that was at the beginning of November. So I can't phone them, or email them and they can't read this. All they've got are mobile phones - and with older eyesight and wobbly fingers, mobile phones are not very accessible devices.

I've put O'Hara's book on my wish list, but perhaps I should get it for my daughter.

Business enabling technology

"The business enabling technology people have disabled some of my technology and I'm p*d off with it"

growled my chivalrous husband, dropping me off for work this morning. I don't think he was looking forward to his working day.

Digital chivalry at home

Chivalrous - that's what my husband is, For example, he will walk on the outside of the pavement expecting the lady to walk on the inside. He will also offer to take care of my computer. I can do this myself, being technically sufficiently able and confident that I'll eventually get it right and sorted. But I'm happy to allow him and will encourage him to look after it for me as it delegates my technical chores. In fact, he's promised to put a new mother board in for me.

Does our joint behaviour encourage my learned helpless? Or does it reinforce gender stereotypes? Or is it an exercise in power?

Jennifer Rode researched gender stereotypes in programming and who manages digital security in the home. She came up with the term "digital chivalry". It may be a contentious term but it tells a nice story that means something to many listeners and I can identify with.

Cryptic clues

Husband has a tendency to cryptic remarks, or perhaps just doesn't talk. Put another way, sometimes we don't understand each other and we don't talk enough. One of way of remedying this is to travel together to work. So we sit in the car together for forty five minutes each morning and each evening. We might still not talk. Possibly because I'm quietly doing the sudoku while he drives.

Then I had this brilliant idea. Instead of the sudoku I open the paper at the crossword page. I cannot understand these cryptic clues bu he gaily romps through them. So I tell him the clues, and he thinks through them as we drive, occasionally talking in order to tell me how they work.

And we get communication!

Council meeting

I've not been to a county council meeting before, but this one was walking distance, so I thought I'd go for an hour or two. It's in the Crown Courts, so I arrive at the front door. Being the courts, there's a guard at the door, ready to scan visitors.

"What can I do for you, Ma'am?"

"There's a public meeting here today" I say, expecting to be scanned and allowed in, but he sends me round the back. I go round with another chap who explains that he's going to present. We find a small man in a security jacket who asks if we are councillors and we explain ourselves. I'm a member of the public so he tells me to go round the front, but I protest that I've been sent round here, so he relents and shows me in with the presenting chap. Half way up the back stairs, we can see the guard at the front so small man in security jacket shouts down to him:

"Bert! Let the public in that way!"
"What?"
"Let the members of the public in!"

Guard protests he doesn't know who's public and who's councillor so SMiSJ promises to come and talk to him in a minute.

The meeting is in court number 2. I'm in a balcony with a lovely wood balustrade (apart from a bit of graffiti carved into it). Below I can see the judge's seat where the chair of the meeting is already sitting. Paper rustles. Members take their places, but I don't know who is sitting where as there's no name plan and the slope on their desks along with the mass of papers they have means there's nowhere to put a name card. I can see the CEO, Chris Williams, sitting at the centre of a green felt covered table and assume the people round him are council officers, not councillors. There are some young men and women on side benches - I can't think they are councillors - perhaps they're journalists. There aren't any other members of the public.

The chap in the central and high up judge's chair calls the meeting to order, but doesn't introduce himself and I don't know his name.

I recognise one of our local councillors, Mary Baldwin. She presents a petition for a 20 mile per hour limit in Aylesbury Old Town. She speaks clearly and to the point. Cheers! The petition is passed to the CEO. Two more bring petitions though they don't speak as clearly as Mary. Mary's was the only petition the Chair was expecting.

Then Mr Macalister-Smith stands up to speak on the Buckinghamshire Primary Care Trust's five year strategy. He's stuck with a Powerpoint presentation and no equipment. I hope he's a good speaker, but I'm happy not to see bullet pointed slides. All the councillors have copies of the slides on handouts.

He talks about the context: good health in Bucks but the NHS has a low financial allocation more than 18% below national level funding, so the financial situation here is difficult.
So in order to add life to years and years to life (i.e. add quality) the PCT wants consistent local area agreements investing in clinical leadership. He concludes they need to manage their money, put leadership in place, including supporting emerging clinical leaders, and working with local government is key to their success.

Question time

The councillors argue about who is the first to ask questions. There is such a "forest of hands" that the Chair complains he can't tell who put their hand up first. Questions include

• Mrs Manon on polyclinics and people's fear of them (I can't always hear the name of the speaker nor the question)
• Mr Colesten - cabinet member for adult social care comments that the revolving door of people in the PCT hinders. Mr Macalister-Smith says something about building a sustainable team (first time I've had the term 'sustainable' in that context)
• Mrs Baldwin asks first if the super surgeries are the same as polyclinics and secondly what investment is going to be be made, that is what is the PCT doing to target areas of deprivation.
• someone asks about dental problems
• there's a question on transport and on access from rural areas

Things are degrading; there are discontentful murmurings that people who've been waiting can't ask a question. Chair says he'll take two more questions then takes only one from someone who mumbles something about Chalfont St Peter but it doesn't seem to be a question. The chair then rabbits on.

"It's unfair, so unfair!"

grumbles Mary Baldwin, sotte voce.

Mr Appleyard raises a point of order to request that this one last person be allowed to ask a question and the chamber agrees with sounds of assent. The Chair grumbles:

"Is it a brief one?"
"It's briefer than your preamble, Chairman."

The question is about purchasing block beds but Mr Macalister-Smith can't answer it.

Question time must finish. Mr Macalister-Smith is praised for his presentation, which must be difficult in front of so many knowledgeable people. In turn, he courteously thanks the chair, suggesting that his job is difficult, and mentions that he hadn't realised it was the first time he'd chaired the meeting here.

I stayed only a few more minutes, just enough to hear that the cabinet member for transport supported the petition to lower the limit in the town centre.

I might go again - the PCT information was useful and relevant. The councillors' behaviour was amusing.

Long term

I've been away for work, not far and only for three days, but it makes a nice change. I'm loving it.

Husband texted me morning greetings.
Son rang home and then me.
Daughter rang home.

So I rang them.

Both children (children still?) are low. There's a lot of work, little time, people to cope with and daughter is off colour with a headache. Headache slows down writing the 300 word French essay. Fortunately, it's nice to know that step daughter #3 is feeling smug about understanding a lecture on structural analysis.

It's nearly the end of term, and I fetch one home in ten days, the other the next week and SD #3 will be back for Christmas.

Busy

I'm away for work, with little time even for lunch. But it's nice to have the break, especially with a view like this.

Bath and Bristol

We visited the Bath spa on Friday night, meaning to buy a twilight session, but they were all booked up. So we had a shorter session and more expensive package and it was still good - especially the steam rooms with different aromas and heats and foot baths.

We ate Sally Lunn Bath buns for tea, which are something amazing - huge as a tea plate, but light as a fairy cake, and delicious with cinnamon butter - I'm glad we found that café.

We made a quick wander round the Roman Baths yesterday morning before visiting daughter. So I need to come back because there wasn't time to see everything.

Daughter's fine physically, intellectually, academically and socially - I think. She grumbled mildly about hall food and ate a splendid meal with us in a fish restaurant. We talked lots, and then husband drove us into the city where we explored shops like the new precinct, and bought a piece of jewellery that she'd seen. Husband showed us some of his old haunts so daughter knows even more shops to explore in the years that she is there.

Long weekend

Off to Bath for a long weekend and a day trip to Bristol to see daughter

Birthday

It's a bit quiet now all the children have gone. I toodled off to tae kwondo and pleaded birthday as an excuse for doing fewer press ups. The instruction was to do ten press ups but five if you were under 14. It is not wise to draw attention to yourself at tae kwondo as the subum is inclined to give you as many press ups as you are old. However, this was not the usual subum, but one who just told everyone it was my birthday and to give me a clap!

"Choosing chocolates" I mused on my Facebook status, which drew "Eeny meeny miny mo! Happy Birthday" from SD#2

Test of Intelligence and observation

You will be allowed five minutes to complete this paper. Mark your answers in the space preceding each item number. Work as quickly as you can.

1. Do they have a fifth of November in America?
2. Some months have thirty days; some have thirty-one, how many months have twenty-eight days?
3. If you had only one match and entered a dark room where there was an oil lamp, oil heater and some kindling wood which would you light first?
4. If a doctor gave you three pills and told you to take one every half hour, how long would they last?
5. A man builds a house with four sides, a rectangular structure each having a southern exposure. A bear comes wandering by. What colour is the bear?
6. A farmer has seventeen sheep. All but nine die. How many did he have left?
7. Divide thirty by a half. Add ten. What is the answer?
8. Take two apples from three apples. What do you have?
9. How many animals of each species did Moses take on the Ark?
10. If you drove a bus with forty-two people on it from London and stopped at Watford to pick up seven more and drop off five passengers and at Luton you dropped off eight and picked up four and arrive at Edinburgh twenty hours later, what is the driver's name?

That is what the 11+ test questions seemed like to me - and the requirement to be quick still makes me panic, so I can't read them properly. But even worse, now so often there are multiple choice answers, which confuse me even more. Yeuch.

Do you want the answers?

Six characters

What's real? What's reality?

That's the problem at the heart of Pirandello's play "Six Characters in search of an Author", which husband and I saw today at the Gielgud Theatre. It's a fascinating update on Pirendello's early twentieth century production. Apparently, he never finished fiddling with this play - no wonder I couldn't remember the ending - but he considered turning it into a film or a novel.

The six characters have developed a life of their own, in the way that a writer finds he doesn't (or she) always know what is going to come out of the pen - the story develops by itself sometimes. These six characters have a story that they insist on telling. But this is a play within a play, for the six characters interrupt a rehearsal - in the Gielgud, a film rehearsal for a documentary on assisted suicide.

Each of the six characters wants to give his or her version of the reality that happened to them, in their life. Each has a different take on their lives together. Each constructs the same story according his/her own perception and personality.

• The Father - guilt ridden
• The Step-daughter - haughty, sexy
• The Mother - distraught, weak and weepy
• The Son - arrogant, distant
• The silent Girl and Boy - why are they silent?

Then the actors attempt to reconstruct their story, putting a different angle to it. And here is yet another production of this play, with a different take from the one that Pirandello first produced:

• Madame Pace becomes a pimp,
  
• it's a documentary being filmed rather than a rehearsal of a Pirandello play,
• there's a scene where Pirandello discusses problems of this play, in Italian
• The Mother sings as if in an Opera
  

Why am I so interested?

Because we studied the play in depth when I was at college. I played the Mother. And because the problem of reality still haunts me; it comes up in the way I approach and write up my research.

Son's blog

Son has started a blog, and started coxing, so his first posting is on that, unless he's procrastinated it.

Thirty years ago today

Thirty years ago today, I saw my Aunty and Uncle - the uncle who died earlier this year. It's their wedding anniversary today and this is the first one she'll have without him. I tried to find a photo of them together that day, but can't, so here is one of my parents that day instead.

Trains & grandchildren

Husband & I took two grandchildren over to Didcot railway centre. They're really happy in the car, don't get sick & don't squabble. They sang:

Tic tac toe
Give me high, give me low.
Give me three in a row.
Danny got shot by a UFO

(then you have to do rock-paper-scissors but you don't say anything)

Snaky creepy crawly up your back.
What letter is that?
You lose, get a bruise!

While husband/gran'pa took photos of engines, we explored a newly opened air-raid shelter, then went on the exhibition coach for lots of hands-on experimentation with steam, coal and oxygen.

The photo is of leaves on the line's gravel.

Blogging

The Today programme on radio 4 today had a discussion suggesting that blogging was passé & dying and that the cool thing to do now was twitter.

Twitter! No. Twittering isn't an alternative to blogging - it's different for different purposes. Blogging is for writing, and twittering is for - just that - twittering - nothing special while you faff about and say in a hundred words what you're faffing about it. Twittering is what an excited flock of stupid birds does. Suggesting twittering could replace blogging is like suggesting using a bicycle instead of a car.

Bah! Humbug!

Surprise walk

My posting on the planned walk to see a white horse was a trick.

I told husband I wanted to see a white horse, and I pointed at Ashbury. He then 'planned' the day including lunch at a local pub. However, he wanted to start walking at 10 o'clock, and I wanted to start at 11. I had to slow him down. SoI

• lay in late
• showered
• remembered I'd forgotten my mobile phone.
• asked to stop in Stanford-in-the-Vale to look for the grave stones of distant relatives
• complained about the bumpy roads
  
• burped as if about to be sick
• asked for the loo.

But we still got to the empty car park before eleven o'clock.

Then step daughter #3 turned up. She beamed and announced that she thought she'd like a walk. We slowly put our boots on to delay a little longer. Step-daughter #1 with her husband and three children arrived too.

"Happy Birthday, Daddy!" "Hello Granpa!"

Step-daughter #3 & partner arrived next. And finally step son with his wife and two children.

Then he realised that he'd been set up and all the family were arriving to walk with him, and someone else had booked the pub for the 16 of us.

They all had their stories. One had started early then had to go back to fetch something for a niece; one had left Loughborough at 8 o'clock but had gone round every which way.

Husband thought that he was setting up the day, but actually it was his four children who were setting it up to give him a belated birthday surprise. The idea was to get him to the car park at Ashbury for 11 o'clock so they'd all be there to greet him, and it was my job to get him there.

Between them all they'd planned and organised a lovely day for their dad. He was surprised and pleased by his lovely four children.

Where's a white horse?

One afternoon in 1990 I walked a bit of the Ridgeway with 3 friends. I'd love to go again.

Husband is planning to take me walking the Ridgeway and Ashbury to see a white horse on Sunday. He says that he's found a nice pub to go to too, for lunch. It sounds good, except that he wants to be at Ashbury for 10 o'clock, and that's a tad early for me.

We'll have a discussion.

When did our house get built?

Followed husband round Swanbourne with the archeology society. Discovered that houses in the 17th century got built with a lobby front door. This means that the chimney was right behind the draft-preventing lobby round the front door, and divided the house into two parts, one larger - the main room, and a smaller, perhaps not heated room.

Our house's front door was originally directly onto the street and we had two rooms with one side smaller than the other. So although it's listed as a Victorian house there's evidence that it's older.

The walk round Swanbourne was interesting and the autumn weather was lovely.

Towcester races

Gorgeous day to skive off to the races. Husband and I nipped out of work after lunch and drove up the A5 to Towcester racecourse. Husband got his money back on one race but otherwise we lost our bets.

But it was a lovely day to leave the office, to enjoy the autumn colours and the fluffy clouds skidding across a cold blue sky. The horses were beautiful. You could admire them not just on the race course but in the paddock parading before each race so you can see what they were like before you laid your bet.

All the children gone

Husband and I took son back to uni this afternoon, and now the house has no children living here all the time any more. I suggested going round to step daughter #1 for a dose of children and a cup of tea, but husband declined suggestion.

I know they've not quite all flown the nest; they'll be back from university during holidays, and there's the boomerang child. My brother came home in his late twenties. Step daughter #1 came back for six months with her husband and children and that was nice. But now my two are teetering out of the nest on their own. I've managed to get them this far, with help from their father for eight years, on my own for four years and their step father for the last eight . Here's hoping they'll all fly.

Sartorial advisor

On Saturday, daughter wore these really nice jeans. They look smashing on her, so I asked her advice on buying jeans. We tootled out together, and bought me a pair, which I'm wearing today. My Chinese friend, Gorgeous, commented:

"You are presenting really nice today, dressed like an 18 year old!"

Isn't that nice? I think daughter would be pleased.

Odd advice

My father was a responsible teacher and headteacher, who cared for children and adults. Thirty years ago my father gave my brothers his only advice to them on sex:

"Never get yourself in a room by yourself with a woman"

Then, my bothers and I thought it odd advice, but now I read that our priest is jailed for what he did thirty years ago. My father would never have done what that priest did. And he would never have let his staff do that either. What sort of school looked after its students and staff as badly as those Salesians did thirty years ago? How awful. How sad. How irresponsible.

Husband's 65th birthday

We both took the day off yesterday for a walk in the Malverns and a climb to the beacon.

We ended the day sharing a meal out with 3/4 children plus assorted spouses and grandchildren and step son. Everyone was merry and happy - a pleasant celebration.

Daughter gone

Took daughter to university today. She was as high as a kite, excited and cheerful. She left us happily - almost dashed away, after new friends.

This is her room but she's blanked out because she doesn't want me to photo her.

Taekwondo and daughter

Daughter is really fit and well. On Wednesday for the first time in months she came to tae kwondo and we made it through two sessions. On Friday she came back for more, and was so well, that the subum used her fitness as criteria for the rest of us!

"You're not working hard enough! No one in here is panting yet! Who's worked up a sweat? You can't be working - Grace hasn't fainted yet!"

Sad news

Daughter and I are really sad to see news here about our old parish priest. It doesn't make sense. It's not the priest we knew and were fond of.

Daughter home

Both son and daughter home again.

Daughter gave me a full debriefing on all the things she did, ate, saw and heard in Austria and is now excited about packing for uni.

Step daughter #3 has already left for the start of her master's course and Loughborough, which I think is in engineering design.

Son leaves in ten days or so.

Husband retires down to three days a week work the day after daughter goes to uni.

All change!

Son home

Son is safely home, happy with his experience in Venice. You can see some pictures of him and friends if you're on Facebook.

Daughter's Austrian work experience

Daughter is coping with getting up early. Remember that Austrian time is an hour ahead of UK, and daughter has been sleeping in late for the last month.

As Elly was teaching this morning, and she wanted me to go into school with her, I woke up at 6.30am. Local time. Following a normal morning routine, with toast and honey for breakfast. We got to the school at about 8, and Elly was desperate to introduce me to the headmaster.

Daughter was very pleased to see a couple of the girls who'd stayed with us but then discovered that Elly expected her to teach -

rather daunting when I've never done it before, nor been given any warning. I taught some nursery rhymes, remembering what you said about learning poems and songs in foreign languages. For two of the three classes, I also explained something of the English secondary school system.

Later Elly and daughter walked to the Rathaus (town hall) to see the director and meet the people that she will be working with. Quite daunting, but so many of them speak English so well -

all better than my standard of French.

Outside, in the plaza, they met Angelica and her father. Angelica, her mother and daughter went for an ice cream. They considered that quality normal, but it far exceeded what daughter might expect in England.

We then rushed off to the opening of an art gallery. One of the exhibitionists was a friend of Elly's - everyone seems to know her here. There was a jewellery stand as well, which I really admired. Afterwards, Elly drove to a Shooting Club. Yes, as in guns. I'm told that Ferlach, where Angelica lives, is famous for making rifles. So after chatting to a few people, and some more introductions - everyone shakes hands, and there have been maybe five who haven't been bone-crunchers, so my hand feels bruised and battered now - Elly took a turn shooting this really old rifle. She had some trouble, as her hands were quivering. Next was my turn. Me, holding a gun. I was nervous to say the least. However, I did quite well, and have the card to show for it.

Your mother would have been nervous as well.

Daughter's impressions of Austria

Daughter has found the first experience somewhat overwhelming.

She was bemused to find blue skies - a welcome change after the English rain. As soon as she walked through the door from Arrivals, she found Elly, dressed in her usual fishnet socks and heels, and a yellow dress. She has a small girl with her, dressed in a more demure purple,
whom I later find out to be Elly's granddaughter, Letitia. Both hold brightly coloured posters welcoming her.

Daughter emails:

After taking photos, Elly asks me if I would like to go swimming in the lake, and I, somewhat flustered, agree. We make for the car, which is rather like a Landrover, and after some persuasion from Elly, I sit in the front. We go to Elly's daughter's house, but Sylvia, Letitia's mother is not there. I am served a drink that tastes rather like elderflower cordial, and phone you on Elly's mobile.

Elly insists on showing her all compass points of Klagenfurt:

• the lake,
• the pier where she paddles on the steps
• Elly's apartment,

Elly insists that her whole family speak English, so she had very few language barriers to overcome.

They went to a restaurant:

I had this sauce with seasonal mushrooms and a ball of something like stuffing. For pudding, Elly wanted an "Indiana", which is a massive amount of whipped cream, covered with chocolate sauce, and hiding these sponge biscuits. She insisted that I tried it, and then I decided to have one too.

Finally they got back to the apartment and unloaded her bag. Then went haring off to the late-opening supermarket to get some bread for breakfast.
I then asked for a bit of peace and quiet, and did some maths that Bristol uni had sent -

it's something that I know how to deal with, so is actually rather relaxing. Falling asleep was easy after all that.

Son's gone to Venice

Son seems to be safely landed in Italy and I hope he's now in Venice with his friends. It's the first time he's gone off somewhere abroad where he doesn't speak the language and parents are there any more. Like his sister, now in Austria, he's arranged it all for himself.

Husband and I are on our own for for days, well apart from youngest step daughter, but we hardly see her. In fact, yesterday evening, the phone rang, and it was her, phoning us from her bedroom because she couldn't be bothered to get up and come downstairs to see us to give us a message.

Daughter safely arrived

Daughter has got herself safely to Austria, and is with Elly. She rang me around four o'clock on Elly's mobile. So I can relax about her. She's safely in Klagenfurt. You can look the town up here.

Soliciting

"Don’t let any strange man offer you sex tomorrow", admonished husband as we phoned each other tonight.

What had elicited this comment was telling him my first impressions of Harrogate. I was homing on the booked guest house on the Ripon Road, passed it, found myself in town, so turned left, left, left again in an attempt to get back to it. I stopped to get my bearings and saw a woman walking up past my car, so I opened the nearside window, and called out to her. She pointed up the road I was on, assured me I was gong the right direction but that she wasn’t sure if I should turn right or left at the top. I thanked her and was about to move off when a young man approached the car. He was about five foot eleven, white, clean around 20, casually dressed and quite pleasant looking. I thought perhaps he’d over heard and was going to offer additional advice. He leant right into the passenger window, and said,

“Do you fancy a bit of sex for fifty quid?”

Now, the last time I had a similar proposition was some decades ago outside my girls convent school, in a much less salubrious area, and the offer was then for three quid. So I’m debating

• The surprise of the offer,
• The going rate,
• Inflation
• Who I am and my age
• Who is paying whom
• And why..

I don’t get any further in my thoughts because my mouth splutters
“What!” and then “Are you talking about?”

I already have the car in gear and move away. Some other young men of similar height and age walk up as if to join him. But they don’t look as if they knew what he was saying, or as if they’d been daring each other to do silly things. It’s only later that I think perhaps it was a ruse to get his head in my car and nick my handbag, but I never keep that on the passenger seat. Perhaps he needs money for drugs, but he looked too fit and healthy to be doing drugs.

When I recount the incident to my business colleagues later they remark that perhaps he was seeking a Mrs Robinson, or perhaps I should’ve asked him for a hundred quid.

Visiting parents

I've dropped in to see parents before going to a symposium & a conference in Harrogate. It's nice to see parents' new flat, right next to the church, which makes it really easy for them to nip out to pray. But I shall miss my youngest who is flying out to Austria while I'm away on the conference.

Poor old cleaner

Our cleaner's really hurt herself. She sent me a really long text message:

Really sorry not going 2 b able 2 clean 4 u at all next wk would hv phnd but u wdnt understnd mouth swollen i know bill spoke 2 adrian but wntd 2 put u in picture going tue 2 hv stiches out thn going hosp 2 c if nose broken hv bn in touch wid nat accidnt helpline solicitor phning me mon good samaritan who stopped and took us 2 hosp was head of the floyd anyway will keep u informed apologies again yr brusf and battered cleaner

Bill told husband that she'd fallen in the High Street.

Trains

Husband has been busy making trains run on track. The video is one and a half minutes, and a few megabytes.

Coombe Hill

I worked at home this morning. This afternoon husband, daughter and I went blackberrying up Coombe Hill, where, despite living here for eight years, I'd not yet been. It was a lovely day for a walk, neither too hot, nor wet. We saw loads of butterflies and flowers: St John's Wort, scabious, vetch, rosebay willow herb, harebells. I don't know what a yellow flower I saw was but a purple one was greater knapweed. I got stung by a nettle. We saw something like a red oakapple growth on roses, like a lot of strings all tied together, perhaps hiding a bug. I wonder what made those.

Husband is really good at recognising butterflies. We saw a peacock butterfly and a yellow primstone and a meadow brown. Husband collected loads of blackberries for a pie. Daughter and I ate blackberries.

Then we walked down to Rumseys in Wendover and ordered vanilla ice espresso, hot chocolate, shortbread and raspberry pavlova. Finally we stopped off at the Chiltern Brewery and bought some beer.

That was as good an afternoon holiday as any!

Parents fame

I wanted to find a link to this newspaper article my parents sent me. They are famed at last in the Darlington and Stockton Times, where, on their wedding anniversary on 29th July, they also celebrated the tenth anniversary of Richmond's university of the third age. But the article doesn't seem to be on-line, so you can't see the nice photo of my parents and their friends from the U3A.

Shame.

It reads:

"Lifelong learning was celebrated in Richmond as the town's U3A marked its tenth anniversary.
One of hundreds across the county, Richmond University of the Third Age is a learning co-operative providing educational, creative and leisure opportunities for people over the age of 50.
Last Friday, members gathered for their tenth anniversary luncheon at the King's Head Hotel."

And then it talks about parents' 59th wedding anniversary and even quotes my dad, "

It certainly keeps the old brain cells alive.

" My dad has very alive brain cells, a very bright man.

Taekwondo olympics

We won a bronze medal in taekwondo, thanks to Sarah Stevenson. There was some drama over decisions when the referee didn't allow a kick initially, then overturned the decision.

There was even more drama when another taekwondo player, a Cuban called Matos, kicked a referee in the head.

I know from my limited experience that sometimes they just don't see that you've scored a point. They need these instance replayers like they have in tennis. I see various commentators are saying this, such as the BBC. Quite right too.

Retail therapy

I thought I'd work at home today. I've done two loads of laundry, defrosted the freezer and took daughter for a bit of retail therapy at Bicester Village. She bought a skirt that looks fantastic on her whether it be every day wear or teamed up with something special like this red backless top.

Fighting Grannies

I hope we do well in the taekwondo Olympics. We lost this morning to the Afghan contender. Sarah Stevenson is our hope for tomorrow, but look what Korean grannies do. And I thought I was the oldest in our club.

Maths at Bristol

Daughter must have chosen well - I see Bristol maths department comes really high in the Times Good University rankings
http://extras.timesonline.co.uk/gug/gooduniversityguide.php?AC_sub=Mathematics&x=31&y=7&sub=22
being beaten only by Oxford and Cambridge.

A levels

Daughter's results are out and really really good so she's off to Bristol university to study maths, but not just maths, but maths with a year in continental Europe too.