More working relatives

While I'm blogging about relatives to be pleased to know, I've realised at least two more whose activities may make a difference in the world. My various cousins have several children, two of whom are involved in a petition save the Mansour family from deportation. Here's what a Facebook page says:

Description:
At 7am on Wednesday 1st July neighbours in a Moss Side street watched in horror as the Mansour family were forcibly removed from their home by a large group of police and immigration officials.
Five years earlier, the family led a prosperous and successful life in Egypt. After months of harassment and serious threats to the family, Mr Mansour sought help from the police. Shortly after this he was arrested on false accusations of insulting Islam. He was detained in solitary confinement for seventeen days and tortured.

Having fled Egypt leaving all his possessions behind, he was then helped by the Bishop of the Christian Church he attended who gave him refuge and arranged and paid for his flight out of Egypt. After a short period in Dover, they came to Manchester where they have settled. The children have thrived at school and the family have formed good relationships in school, at church and the wider community.

How then, have we arrived at a situation where the family is in detention awaiting deportation?

After having twice been let down by law firms who despite being paid up front failed to represent the family at vital hearings, their status was downgraded from asylum seeker to illegal immigrant. This has put them in line for immediate deportation. The family fear for their lives if deported and Mr Mansour would almost certainly be arrested and tortured on his return.

What can you do to help?

• Sign the petition at http://www.gopetition.co.uk/online/29140.html
• Email Phil Woolas, Secretary of State for Immigration and Alan Johnson, Home Secretary at: Privateoffice.external@homeoffice.gsi.gov.uk
• Pass this message on to as many people as possible to do the same

The Mansour children go to a school not far from where my family used to live, a school that my mother probably visited as part of her work, so they're in my kind of community. See this link to the Catholic Independent News on the campaign.

My cousins' children either work at the Mansour children's school in Whalley Range, or are providing legal representation for them.

Business woman

Looking for dancing costumes, I found my relative in the Times Online here under
How I made it: Anne Walker Founder of International Dance Supplies
My night at the ballet led to £7m dancewear empire

This year's she's won a business woman of the year award here

I'm glad to know we're related - wish I had business skills like hers. What's interesting to note is that she says her success is due to laziness - she has to find the easiest ways of doing things:

"That has been my strength.”

I can lay a claim to laziness too!

Dancing for Children in Need

The OU belly dancing club made over £400 for Children in Need. See some of the photos here.

Photography

It's not a crime to take photos in public places, so the police shouldn't be stopping photographers as much. Look at today's news, here, where you can't take a picture of Saint Paul's Cathedral!
But you can be stopped for taking pictures of the lights in Brighton, here.
You can be stopped even if you are BBC photographer, here.
These are photographers, not terrorists.
This one was taken nearly 25 years ago - the photographer suspects he'd be shot now

See http://www.not-a-crime.com/ because it's not a crime.

Party season starts

Three parties this week:

• Aylesbury Old Town residents party,
  
• husband's work colleagues and
  
• tae kwondo.
  

So we're a tad busy being sociable.

Slow car

It took me ten minutes to reverse this new red car out of my garage today because I was worrying so much about its sticky-out handles. Then I drove very carefully to work, no revs above 4000 and tried to stay at around 50 mph even on the dual carriage way. It took nearly twice as long as usual to get to work.

And it hasn't got as much room in the boot for all my special junk.

New car day

My new red car is okay.

At the sales room I opened the driver's door, and the rain dripped off the roof onto me. My nice old Volvo never did that because it had a lip round the roof that drained off the rain. I don't like new designs.

And it's got sticky out handles. My old Volvo had handles that were flush with the car. I don't like sticky out handles.

Bye bye old car

Tomorrow I scrap my 19 year old trusty steed, the only car I've ever owned, a car I've had for 13 years. I'd meant to keep it another couple of years - we could have celebrated its 21st birthday! But the government scrappage scheme was too good to miss, so tomorrow I get a new car, and trusty old Volvo goes for scrap.

If you want to know what I'm getting to replace it, you'll have to ring me and ask. I'm looking forward to hearing from you, my friends.

Night sky

I went a bit north to see someone for work and then some relatives so it was getting dark as I drove home. I stopped to photo this sky.

Good news

We're all well pleased that step-daughter #2 who went for a job interview at a building surveyors yesterday has been told she's got the job with remuneration , and she's to start on Monday! Go, girl, go!

I like her sense of humour; she noted on Facebook that she'd omitted to mention on her CV that she was unemployable!

Weekend away

We've spent the weekend in Bath and Bristol, seeing daughter and listening to a concert that included a composition by son-in-law. Interesting time and diverting from life that goes on as normal.

Remembrance Sunday

Today is Remembrance Sunday.

Aren't we supposed to have a minute's silence while we remember those who died at war? But what do you think of during that silence? What do you remember? People?

I used to feel sad that people in the previous generations to me had lost loved ones, like my aunty's husband. Uncle Myles died in World War two as he lead his troop of soldiers along a ditch at the side of a road. There was another troop on the other side of the road too, but having a working radio, they were warned to turn back because there was a sniper ahead. Unfortunately

1. Uncle Myles' radio equipment wasn't working so
   
2. they didn't turn back and
   
3. the sniper got him.
   

I didn't know Uncle Myles, so remembering him wasn't too easy, but remembering his widow and son brought sadness. What could we do to avoid future deaths?

We could remember what went wrong and make sure it doesn't happen again.

Do we remember? No, because British troops still don't have working equipment. See this for example. So for me, there's little point in Remembrance Sunday until we learn from our memories.

Handel's Halleluiah

I quite like Handel's Halleluiah anyhow, but this is such fun. I hope the 'monks' had fun rehearsing it too.

Nephew's restaurant

When I was a teenager, I expressed an interest in learning to cook, so my parents gave me a cookery book, inscribed:

"Waiting hopefully for the results."

Good results didn't appear that quickly, so I was intrigued to find in today's Financial Times an article on an 18 year-old Canadian chef who has his own restaurant. It must be good if he's made it into the British FT. See the restaurant web site here.

Of more importance is my nephew who is training as a chef in the States. Perhaps he'll learn to cook more quickly than I did. I couldn't run a restaurant - I get stressed when I have to cook for more than a few friends and family. Will nephew make it into the FT when he gets his own restaurant? And will he get his own restaurant? I hope so, and then maybe I'll go and try it out. So now I'm waiting hopefully for the results of his training.

Lost Madeleine

This little English girl disappeared when she was nearly four, and is still missing more than two years later, but her parents keep looking. When they heard of that American girl that was found after 18 years, they argued that their child could still be alive somewhere, so produced this video in the hopes that someone knows where their Madeleine is.

Old friends, new places

I met an old friend today, at work, a friend I haven't seen for perhaps ten years, someone whose son is around the same age as mine. We used to live near each other, but lost face to face contact when I moved here. But she's now a full-time post grad student at the OU studying for a doctorate too. So we met over lunch and chatted for an hour, and could have talked longer, but I had to get on and do stuff. (See Frustrating Day).

A colleague commented that it was weird that we'd both ended up here, but it's not really weird. We've got similar children, we have a similar approach to learning, a similar view of life and what's important - that's why we got on ten years ago. And that's why we're doing similar things now.

Making the grade in English

That 1 in 4 pupils fail to make the grade in English (see Telegraph) is not surprising if the evidence from one Buckinghamshire primary school is anything to go by. For some weeks now, displayed in the assembly hall, as if the school were proud of it, is the grocer's apostrophe in a verb. A painted poster proclaims:

"Africa need's money".

With teaching like this at primary level, we shouldn't expect improvements in English any time soon.

Working families

I don't support the recommendation that MPs' spouses don't work for them. It's normal and natural for families to work together, whether they be spouses or children. Watching the farmer's son helping on his market stall this week in the Aylesbury Farmers' market, the child was both learning, and contributing to his family's business, and to society in general. He could be proud of his contribution. I know that some MPs have abused the system, but bad cases make bad law, and this recommendation is one that ought to go, not be implemented. Let the spouses work.

Younger wives

Husband has just discovered here that having a wife younger than himself is good for him.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8325579.stm

Half term

It's half term so I'm nipping out this afternoon to watch the newly released film of the Fantastic Mr Fox. It's had some good reviews so I shall enjoy the treat with two young relatives.

Waving or drowning

Remember last week the news about the balloon boy family? For those of you who dismissed the family with the child not in a helium balloon as a trivial episode, Mike Todd found this cartoon to pull us up short:

http://miketodd.typepad.com/waving_or_drowning/2009/10/hello.html

Random thoughts

This ambulance driver blogs in a readable and amusing way. In this entry, he is complaining about working the night and the extra hour when the clocks go back.

He accidently let himself be booked to work that night and swears at his own stupidity. Oh dear! But he changes all the swear words into non-swear words.

I hate hearing swearing, and I loved reading the way he put it. In my head, I always understand the literal meanings, and hear aggression in the words, so the way he put it meant I read, not aggression, but his pent-up frustration that he'd done such a daft thing, but just the sort of thing lots of us would have done. I know I would have made the same mistake because my husband gave me a lecture last night on the meaning of 'Sunday morning'.

I hope it wasn't too bad a night for him.

Inefficient services

A colleague was telling about her young son having had several ear operations recently. He's all right but what she noticed with her manager's eye, was that for a twenty minute procedure they had to sit around in the hospital for eight hours. Of course, she's grateful for the care but surely they can organise people's work and lives better than that.

On a similar theme of how to use time efficiently, she explained that before her son was off school, she got some work for him to do at home. They spent only half an hour a day on it, but when he got back to school the teacher announced that he was right up to where the class was. How can it take five hours of class work to match thirty minutes of one to one work, she asks? Why should it take ten times as long to cover material in class as it does at home? No wonder some home educators seem to hot house their children. I do think that schools need more teachers and smaller groups more than they need extra expensive computer equipment.

My mother's birthday

It's my mother's birthday. May she enjoy it.

Guided tour to theorem country

What's a theorem? An assertion you can prove is true, at least that's what I'm asserting following yesterday's seminar at an Oxford University Continuing Education (OUCE) day.

If you've seen the web site Theorem of the Day, then you'll get a flavour of the day, created by the presenter, Robin Whitty. That web site is challenging though and so was the day. However, if you like thinking, and thinking in good like minded company, then you'd have enjoyed it too. The company included physicists, sixth formers, an eminent professor of biology, chemists, a member of the society of mathematics and her husband who had a PhD in maths, though not in the same area she hastened to assure me, and retired maths teachers.

Starting with some maths language and shorthand helped me remember some of the maths I used to know, and others in the audience were equally forthcoming with questions, which made for a relaxed atmosphere. Theorems covered included:

• Euclid's Infinity of Primes
• Ramsey's Theorem (I can see how to relate that to how many people you know)
• Contraction Mapping Theorem
  
• Hardy-Ramanujan Asymptotic Partition Formula - partitioning is so simple that you teach it to infant school children - it's how many different ways can you add up a number, like 5 is 2+3, and also 4+1, and 1+1+3 and so on
• Erdos-K-Rado Theorem on intersecting permutations - we got a bit confused on this one because Robin initially told us to think of Rubik's cube, but it isn't quite the same.
• The Robbins problem - I like Boolean algebra
• Morley's Miracle - that was an amusing story of a school teacher who discovered this by accident. If you tri-sect the angles of a triangle then at the intersections of the trisection lines, you can make the vertices's of a triangle. The miracle is that no-one ever noticed before Morley did, but then drawing a trisection isn't very easy.

We looked at the philosophy of maths - Are the truths of mathematics invented or discovered? A Canadian high school philosophy competition asked this question. The context, rules and winning answer can be downloaded from here.

Finally we had a discussion about whether computers 'do' maths. There's a Faustian battle between mathematicians: you have a choice between geometry and algebra. If we use computers, then we turn to algebra to compute rather than geometry that allows our intuition.

For example, someone had been presenting partitions from using the Pascal's triangle. At the end of the lecture, one person, Corteel, saw a bijection along the rth diagonal within the binomial expansion that matched the rth row of the partitioning - a computer couldn't have seen that!

I might go to another OUCE maths day - like the one next year on the history and consequences of calculus.

A bit ill and flowers

I had a bad night, and the day's not started too well. A cold has given me a cough, so I couldn't sleep well. Then, feeling rotten with sore glands in my neck and still bunged up, I tootle out for a little shopping:

1. On the newsagent's door is a notice 'back in 5 minutes' - so when did the five minutes start?
2. At the car phone warehouse I wait for half an hour to get served
3. At the library to return a book, person in front of me has to argue about whether her returns are overdue or not
   
4. In Superdrug to get some medicine I have lost my student card so can't have discount
5. Health food shop - they know me in there and give sympathy, but they've got no currants

I get home and find student card - things are getting slightly better.

We didn't notice anyone approach the house or heard the gate squeak, when ..

BANG BANG!

I know it says "knock loudly" on the front door, but we do jump when we're right next to it, not at the other end of the house.

But someone's sent me, yes me! Why me? a huge bouquet of flowers in the most gorgeous autumn colours with deep red roses, and a couple of tiny delicate white roses. So now with some paracetamol in me and some lovely flowers, I'm feeling a tad better. Thank you that someone - it was well timed.

Nappies

Disposable nappies are wonderful! When my children were born, disposables made life so easy compared to what my mother had had with terry towelling nappies. They saved heaps of laundry time, detergent and water, though it did seem a bit off to expect bin men to have to take away fouled nappies when poo had used to go down the loo.

This summer I did some nappy shopping for a relative. She required and I purchased:

• pull-up trainer nappies
• swimming pool nappies

Neither packet had more than ten nappies in, but the total cost was around £20! Twenty pounds! There are now lots of different kinds of nappies for different age ranges and different activities but they take an awful lot of money from the household budget. I'm sure that's relatively more than they used to cost. Are we paying extra for the differentiation of product?

A pregnant relative was discussing nappies. She tells me, that you can now get reusable nappies and such nappies adapt for the growing child, (like these?) so you can use them from birth to potty training. (I thought those used to be called 'terries'.) The problem is that she expects to go back to work, and how does a nursery cope with reusable nappies? It wouldn't be worth the expense of buying lots of reusable nappies if she then has to buy disposables for the nursery.

It's a conundrum and a quandary that I don't envy pregnant relative.

Buckinghamshire schools

Today children in Buckinghamshire schools take an exam, the 11 plus exam, results of which are taken as an indicator of whether they should go to a Buckinghamshire grammar school, or an upper school. It's a bit nerve wracking for the parents, especially if you know your child should go to a grammar, that they'd love it there, that they're really academic, but you also know that your child will be marginal, might not quite get the required score.

There are two tests, taken a week apart, but they are only verbal reasoning (VR) tests, not non-verbal reasoning, and not numerical. That means that if you've got a child who's brilliant at maths, or is dyslexic, or even bilingual, then a VR test might not show up their best academic ability. The child might have a vocabulary of 4000 words in English and 4000 words in Pushti, but if the VR expects 5000 words in English, and tests to that, then the child won't get the 121 that is the score for a grammar school.

However, Buckinghamshire allows other evidence through an appeal system. If the best of the two VR tests, doesn't come high enough, and a parent disagrees with the LEA assessment that the child would be most suited to an upper, then the parent(s) can appeal. Parents can bring in other evidence, whatever they think fit, that demonstrates a grammar school would be the more appropriate school for their child. That might be tae kwondo or ballet dancing certificates, school work, computer work, or a report from a suitable professional. Parents can also provide evidence to explain why the child didn't do well enough on the day of the tests, like had a cold, or asthma, or the school fire alarm went off.

A tribunal of three volunteers, independent of the LEA, assesses the evidence, consider the arguments, and make a decision that is binding on the LEA. I like that because there's the opportunity to use the measured evidence from the tests, plus the qualitative evidence that can take into account other unmeasurable evidence.

Today a relative takes the 11 + and another relative is taking the GRE. This site tells you that the GRE is for the graduate record examinations that also assess verbal reasoning skills, along with other skills that an undergraduate might have achieved.

Good luck to both relatives.

Buckinghamshire vines

When we were away in St Emilion, we found that the founders of Laithwaites were also being intronised - probably about time too being as they've been importing from that part of France for decades. So I looked up Laithwaites on the web when we got back. I notice Tony Laithwaite is now eying up the Chilterns for potential vineyards, - he says here that he's looking for sites for sparkling wine vineyards.

Being as our grapes are doing so well in our back garden this year, I tend to agree with him.

New lodger arrived

Our new young French lodger arrived.

I'm at work, about to go off to a one o'clock meeting, a tad late, when the phone rings.

Our new lodger is standing outside our house, but I'm twenty miles away and husband has gone out. He's not answering the door - the house seems empty. I don't have his mobile number in the office here either, and he's probably gone out without it anyhow. Or he might be in the garden and not answering the door. I get lodger's mobile number, then put the phone down and ring son to get husband's mobile. Son doesn't answer. I facebook neighbours:

"Are you in? Can you help lodger who's just arrived at our empty house. I'm at work and husband is not in. Lodger is standing outside the house."

Within seconds, neighbour is round at house, just as husband arrives home from his voluntary work and lodger is welcomed into her new home.

Not an auspicious start but we've got great neighbours.

Grapes in Buckinghamshire

We've got a vine and it's grown grapes - lots of them, enough to make a bottle of wine, though enough to make only one bottle.

Husband on cold glass roof

Knock, knock, knockty, knock. Knock, knock, knock.

I could hear this noise, and vaguely wondered what husband was doing but he's such an active man, that I just thought he'd found something else to fix, mend, or bash. I blithely carried on marking assignments. Son came in.

"What's that knocking noise?"

I gave him my opinion and we started to chat about other things.

Twenty minutes later the door bell rings. Son goes to answer it and comes back creased up laughing.

Husband had exited the house via a bedroom window, but he hadn't told either of us of this intention. He'd closed the window behind him so he could paint behind it, but then he couldn't get it open again, and was stuck on the conservatory roof! He'd tried knocking to get our attention, but we ignored the poor man. So he'd had to semaphore down the hill to a neighbour in her yard to get her to come round, tell us the problem so we could open the window to let him back into the house.

Good communication we've got round here.

Trains and composted tickets

Home on a TGV (train à grande vitesse) - very fast non-stop train from Bordeaux to Paris. We remembered to composter our tickets as we entered the platform. Composter means to validate, and rather than having ticket inspectors at the barriers to the platforms, French (& Italians too) require you to compost your ticket at a yellow machine that stamps the time and date on it. If an inspector gets on the train and you haven't composté, you're in trouble. In Italy, you have to pay the total cost again. I don't know what they do in France, but don't want to find out.

Weather

A grey mist flattens the Garronne as we leave Bordeaux on our last day. We've been lucky with the weather: warm and sunny the first days, gradually cooling each day, but dry in St Emilion as we traipsed around dusty vineyards. On Tuesday in Bordeaux, there was a torrential downpour for over an hour, but we were dry in in the museum of Jean Moulin.

Where we stayed

We didn't stay in a hotel or hostel at Bordeaux but a micro flat of about 20 square metres. The main room about 3 x 4 metres was reached through a corridor that included a door to bathroom and passed through the kitchen - a cooker top, next to a sink over a fridge with a cupboard and microwave above.

It has what we need: sheets, towels, cutlery, crockery. Apparently there's a washing machine somewhere in the building. Breakfast is available for a a couple of euros as in Internet access. It's convenient for tram train or bus. If you stay for a month or more it's only 34 euros a day. Though it's twice as much for a short stay, it would be worth if for an academic or business conference.

Trams and transport in Bordeaux

I like this tram system here: blue, red and green lines traverse the city. They are frequent, inclusive, accessible, clean and easy to use. You can roll your buggy straight on. You see shopping trolleys, old people with crutches, mums with buggies, and even bikes. The tram stations are accessible wide spaces with long ramps at each end to the low platforms.

Tickets can be for one journey to be completed within an hour, including any changes of line (correspondance), or for a day, which is slightly cheaper than the option of buying a ticket for five journeys. Regulars can buy monthly or annual season tickets and there are reductions for students.

Bikes are another popular mode of transport we see all over the city - welcomed and encouraged rather than merely tolerated. A one-way street for example allows bikes in either direction. Pedestrianised areas also allow bikes with priorite aux pietons. The city bought 5000 bikes and allows free loan to Bordeaux residents and accredited students. Bikes now represent around 5% of movements within the urban Communaute of Bordeaux. There are cycle courses for older people and cycle taxis, and cycle tracks that run parallel to the tramways. It's not surprising they suggest Bordeaux is the capital of bilkes: capitale du velo.

Shopping and nos jours heureux

Bordeaux has the longest pedestrianised shopping mall in Europe. See photo. For other super photos of the town see this blog.

Rue St Catherine is full of shops both small and large: children's clothes, fashion, all of odd things, chocolate, DVDs. If you want to go shopping, come here.

We stopped at a DVD shop to look for a film that came out three years ago: Nos Jours Heureux, a comedy about a colonie de vacances - French summer holiday camps for kids. The film was a great hit in France in 2006 because so many have been to colonies de vacances. I was a monitrice myself in a colonie in the 1970s, so I wanted to see the film, which I cannot get in England and amazon.fr will not sell me. So we looked for it in this small shop. It wasn't there, but the manager thought Fnac might have it. Fnac is a big book shop, a bit like Foyles, renowned for similar qualities. So we asked at Fnac - a huge three or four storey establishment, but they didn't have it in stock this week. We bought some music CDS: Moustaki, Brassens, Graeme Allwright and Prévert. I'll play them in my new car, when it arrives.

Jean Moulin museum

The Jean Moulin museum at Bordeaux is dedicated to the resistance movement of the second world war. This museum is full of wartime memorabilia: helmets, uniforms, flags, bikes and motorcycles, photos and posters. Such posters exhort the French to do their duty and return to work. One poster warns them to turn in any English person or risk being shot!.

There are sad stories of bravery, like of the young man, Labat, who at 20 had joined the Resistance, escaped to England and was trained in codes and radio. He made a couple of successful forays back to France. IN 1942, he was parachuted in with radio transmitter equipment when he was caught and arrested. As the opened his bag containing the radio transmitter, he made his escape, shooting six Germans on the way. When he was trapped he took cyanide and died. How brave. How proud his father might have been. How sad his mother must have been.

People

In Bordeaux I see head-scarfed gypsies, the younger ones begging and the older gypsies instructing them - as if allocating them targets. And there are students and bikes too. The photograph is outside one of the university buildings, but we found at least four parts to the university in different parts of the city.

The cyclists are all over, even in the market, marche des Capucins, which people ride into , and load up shopping straight away, none of this nonsense about leaving the bike outside for somebody to nick while you stagger around with laden shopping baskets. Lots of women are on bikes. My husband notices them being more aggressive than men, demanding their rights to ride when a car or van blocks their path.

All races, white and various negro races, some very very black are here along with a few Asian women wearing Muslim head scarves. The Asian men are less obvious because they blend in with the dark haired brown eyed French men. The variety of races is revealed through the variety of restaurants: Moldovian, Japanese, a Spanish food stall in the market called

La Table de Don Quichotte with specialitiés de charcuteries du terroir Basque et Espagnol

This isn't just a city centre for the young and employed. Older retirees and mothers with buggies abound. I spoke to a mother with her 18 month old at a tram stop. She came from Portugal a couple of years ago when her husband got a permanent job here. In Portugal they'd both been working and still were struggling to pay for their house, but here in Bordeaux, she can stay at home and look after their children, and they can pay for their house here and still have enough money to send home to pay for their house in Portugal.

One morning in a cafe we realised that everyone there was playing lotto including a couple of African men and some middle aged women. You had to choose your numbers and your bet, then validate your card at a machine and wait to see if your numbers came up on a screen. People were coming in to meet each other. One woman knew the cafe manager and introduced her grown up son - it was a thriving meeting place.

At an oyster bar in the market, someone cycled in with a boy of perhaps six years - who ran into the bar and hugged the manager. Perhaps, being Wednesday it wasn't a school day because even more young children arrived with their family and went behind the bar.

On the sunny Wednesday afternoon in a park the Jeune-Sapeurs-Pompiers-33 passed - around 30 of them, men and women carrying each other in fireman's lifts. Thirty-three is the number of the department and I guess these were trainee firemen, but some of them looked as young as 12 or 13. May be they're volunteers.

On Tuesday, outside the museum, a whole class of teenagers passed chattering along the street. I don't know why or where they're going or where they're coming from, but they're classes, not just groups of youngsters aimlessly walking.

To Bordeaux

ON Monday we had time for only two tastings, the first at Chateau Corbin Michotte GCC, where we were welcomed with a wonderful array to taste - see photo.

We had lunch at Chateau La Bonnelle GC, then woefully departed to airport, from whence most of the party went home, but we stayed for a couple more days so we could explore Bordeaux.

Bordeaux seems pleasant, spacious, clean with few pigeons to dirty the buildings and not too much graffiti. I notice building work, lots of young people, trams and bicycles.

Ban des vendanges

On Sunday morning our bus left the hotel promptly. We all wore our suits & ties or posh frocks, best shoes and those already intronisés wore epitoge.

Epitoge is the shoulder wear made with rabbit fur, like a vestigial university hood, that those who are accepted (introniser) as members of the Jurade have the right to wear. See photo. 'Introniser' seems to relate to the word 'enthrone' so suggests something special about being welcomed as someone of importance.

That morning was the Parade of Jurats, candidates for intronisation and guests. Before the parade and ceremony we milled in the low morning sun. See video.

We admired the dress of representatives from other jurades too. See video.

Two of our party were to be intronised along with other important people who included several French politicians (such as Gérard Larcher) as well as film stars, atheletes and business men and women. This video shows more camera men than the politician who is walking behind the Jurade as the procession starts.

We processed to the church. The church service is well described by Anthony Laithwaite here. Then went on to the intronisation itself, which was in the Eglise Monolithe, a building cut into the rocks, that might have fallen down any minute if Calleja had started singing. The place was filled so we couldn't see very well but could read the Livret des intronisations, a booklet that gave a short biography of all the people being presented.
We had a champagne reception in the garden of the Salle des Dominicans - noted and minded the security guards for the important politician - then a lunch that included:

• Royal Saint-Emilion 2006
• Château Taureau 2005
• Château Lanbersace, Vieilles Vignes 2004
• Château La Bonnelle 2004
• Château Trapaud 2003
• Château Guillemin La Gaffeliere 2002
• Château Laroque 1999
• Château Chauvin 1998

Finally the Jurade went to the Tour du Roi to proclaim that the harvest was open. See video.

Vendange

The harvest, or vendange, is about to happen. You can see that the grapes have ripened and are nearly ready for harvesting, which will happen towards the second half of the month.

In this photo, you can see the low hanging grapes. They prune them earlier in the year, removing surplus foliage so that the grapes get enough sun, and also the strength of the plant goes down into the lower hanging fruit.

Meals

When I last went on this St Emilion trip, I worried about drinking too much and having a hangover. Friend assured me,

"You won't drink too much, but you may find you eat too much!"

He was right. We tasted wines, but only drank them with food. And there were some super meals. The first two days involved two five course means that included:

• starter/nibbles /soup
• fish course
• meat course
• cheese course
• desert
• coffee & canelles

Canelle are these tiny little rum and vanilla cakes, a speciality of Bordeaux. They served them warm.

Duck was often served. Sometimes we were given duck paté - the wonderful paté de fois gras. At our last meal on Monday lunchtime, our hosts served generous servings of this on tiny squares of toast. I could have dined on those alone, along with the St Emilion wine.

Here's an example menu from Saturday lunch at Chateau La Couspaude:

Foie gras de canard mi cuit entier aux figues gellee au lillet et fantaisie de fruits
***
Pave d'esturgeons au sauternes
***
Supreme de pintadeau au basilic
Pomme sarladaises
****
Salad panachee aux noix
***
Selection de 7 fromages affines et confiture de derises noires
****
Fruits glaces
****
Cafe , canelle

With four meals like that on Friday and Saturday - were we full!

Previous visits

The Jurade visitors are very grateful for the warm welcome that the vineyards and chateaux give us, so we offer our thanks. The Jurade has records of previous visits, and here is one of the regular visitors giving the speech of thanks. For 2008, see here.

Roses

Roses are planted at the end of each row of vines in some vineyards, not for prettification but because they warn of impending mildew. Any mildew infection attacks roses two weeks before the vines, so the viticulteur has time to take preventive measures such as spraying the vines.

Terroir

At Chateau La Gaffeliere, the young guide gave us some very informative talks on the history of the region and on the wine. He answered a question about what terroir is.

Terroir is a combination of soil, micro climate, exposure, altitude, attitude, and local conditions.

The French produce what the land is best at producing, and then look for the market, rather than look to see what people want and then treat the land perhaps with fertilizers, to produce the wine that's in demand.

Secondly, wine and terroir suits the food of the terroir. Thus a Sancerre wine goes with food in a hunting region, but St Emilion is not a hunting region. The wine from St Emilion goes well with the food of the terroir such as duck, like this duck with fruits in the photo.

There's a longer discussion at the wine anorak site here.

St Emilion wine

We're in the south-west of France, in Bordeaux and specifically in the region of St Emilion, the heart of the Bordeaux vine growing area, renowned for its red wines. We're on a long weekend, Thursday - Monday, wine tasting with a group of people from the York Chancellery of St Emilion, one of the two chancelleries of the Jurade in Great Britain.

St Emilion wine is made of a blend of merlot and cabernet franc grapes usually, sometimes with some cabernet sauvignon.

The first tasting on Friday morning was at the western most chateau Belregard-Figeac Grand Cru. It's tucked away in a suburban street and not easy to find. The brothers, Pueyo were fantastically welcoming and gave us many wines to taste, with nibbles to absorb the alcohol and clean the palette between tastings. There were of course also the spittoons, essential equipment for wine tasting (especially at ten o'clock in the morning). See photo

starting with a separate taste of the different assemblages of cepages: merlot and then cabinet franc. Then:

• 2007 mix
• 2005 Château LA FLEUR GARDEROSE AOC Saint Emilion
• 2005 Château BELREGARD-FIGEAC AOC Saint Emilion Grand Cru
• 2003 Château BELREGARD-FIGEAC AOC Saint Emilion Grand Cru yummy

Les messieurs Pueyo even sent us each away with a half bottle. How kind.

Concert at St Emilion

In the church at St Emilion, Eglise Collégial de Saint-Emilion, we heard a concert of opera sung by Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja, accompanied by Brian Schembi on the piano. Both musicians are to be honored at the Sunday Ban de Vendanges, i.e. the beginning of the grape harvest. On the Saturday evening, la Juarade de Saint-Emilion et le Conseil des Vins de Saint-Emilion presentent Calleja et Schembri at this récital lyrique.

The church is high, the benches in our zone sit six each side, rather too cosily,another eleven rows in the zone in front, more behind our zone, so it's a big church, and perhaps the acoustics are not the best.

Yet Calleja's voice is powerful. It fills the church. He's a powerful tenor. He's to sing nine pieces. I thought I'd record a piece on my digital recorder, then realised I'd set it to voice activate, which isn't a good idea for singing, because the silent parts that are so important to music, don't activate the recorder. The video (below) is better for sound, though you can't see much. There are official recordists present - perhaps people from Maltese television.

The pianist, Schembi has half a dozen Rachmaninoff preludes to play. How can he remember all these pieces by heart. Isn't Rachmaninoff tricky to play?

The programme includes:

G.F. Handel - Xerxes (HWW 40) Fronde tenere.. Ombra mai fu
C.W. Gluck - Orpheo ed Euridice - Che faro senza Euridice
Verdi - Macbeth - O Figli! Ah La Paterna Mano
S. Donaudy - Vaghissimma Sembianza
G. Puccini - Tosca - Recondita Armonia
G. Bizet - Les Pecheurs des Perles - Je crois entendre encore
G. Bizet - Carmen - La fleur que tu m'avis jetée
C. Gounod - Romeo et Juliette - L'Amour ...Ah lève toi soleil
J. Massenet - Le Cid - Ah! Tout est bien... Ô souverain

The audience demands several encores. It's been powerful, but not as lyrical as some.

Holiday dress

The weather in Bordeaux is still summery, so I should have brought

• a sarong for the hotel swimming pool and
  
• my 3/4 length jeans - it's warm enough for shorts.

Fortunately I've brought my new blue-green silk blouse, skirt and scarf. They were comfortable to travel in, didn't crease, are warm in the evening (we ate outside the first night in the village square - see photo), a cosy purple shawl, and for dressing down, my blue denim jacket.

Holiday - stressful start

The start of our trip was sufficiently stressful. You can imagine things going wrong; suppose a wheel/castor had come off my suitcase as I bounced it over the cobbles and me with a bad back at the moment. It didn't come off. But you don't remember what you must.

So as we left the house,

1. husband passes me my railcard, which I pop in my shoulder bag, not in its usual place in my purse.
   
2. We check I have the travel details in the front of the suitcase.
   
3. He had the train tickets.
   
4. We check our passports.
   

And we went. But it was half an hour later I realised I hadn't got my usual small handbag with my purse. So I had no English cash and no cards.

We used husband's mobile (mine's still hiding = lost) to call son and ask him to catch next train to Harrow on the Hill bringing my handbag. So he dashes out, and buys a ticket to Hemel Hempstead at three times the price! He'd just finished the wine we'd left and wasn't prepared for this complicated manoeuvre.

An hour later, big hugs to kind son, handbag and me reunited, son stands on platform to get train home again with an exciting book to read on statistical mechanics, while husband and I get the Metropolitan line straight into our London hotel and a bad night's sleep.

Singing neighbour

I wonder if you heard Handel's Messiah on the BBC Radio 3 prom last night, prom 68. Our neighbour's daughter was there, singing in the choir. We had all the radios in the house on. All three of us were listening to a splendid concert. The details are here but you have only a few days to listen.

Fire brigade visit

Three firemen have just visited our home with a fourth fireman sitting outside in a huge fire engine, waiting for them (or for an emergency call-out).

They gave our house a check, and advised us about:

• having working smoke alarms
• keeping doors closed at night and noted how well some of our old doors fit.
• discussing escape plans from the various rooms. I've thought about that - my mother always used to think about it as soon as we went away somewhere new or for a holiday. Now I worry about where my children are living: do they have an escape route from their college room, second floor flat, or rented house? I hope so.

Buckinghamshire Fire Service provided this check and an hour of advice free of charge, and
they gave us some super-duper smoke alarms, even fitted three of them and left the fourth for us to put up when we've fixed the plaster on the hall ceiling that fell down - see here. Although we already were well covered for smoke alarms, most have batteries that last only a year. The new ones are ten year alarms. Apparently you can get alarms that link together too, so if a fire started in the cellar when you're asleep in the attic, so you'd not hear the cellar alarm, it would link to the attic alarm, and set it off. Has anyone else heard of such alarms?

If you live in Buckinghamshire, get the check done. It's free and simple, they even come round on Sunday afternoons, not when you're out at work.

• By telephone – contact the Community Safety Team Administrator on 01296 744 477...
• By e-mail – cs@bucksfire.gov.uk

Details are at http://www.bucksfire.gov.uk/BucksFire/Community+Safety/Home+Fire+Risk+Checks/.

If you live somewhere else, ask the county fire services what they offer.

Emptying house

Daughter left this afternoon, back to university. We'll see her in November. The Austrian girls have gone. Son is still here another few days.

Remember, remember the third of September

Remember, remember the third of September
Umbrella, swastika and sickle
For that bit of daring
Old Hitler is swearing
He's got himself into a pickle.

This is what my mother wrote during the second world war. The third of September 1939 is the day that war was declared.

• The umbrella represents Chamberlain,who always had smartly rolled up umbrella
  
• The swastika represents the Nazis, and
• The sickle represents Russia.

Both my mother's big brothers, Jack and Bill, had to join the services and go to war, which saddened and worried their mother. In the first world war, her little brother, my mother's Uncle Willie on his last leave was admiring baby Jack in his pram. My grandmother, less patriotic perhaps than her brother, who'd come from Canada to join up, asked:

"If you were killed, would you think it were worth it?"

Uncle Willie looked at the baby and replied:

"If it means this little lad won't have to go to war, it'll be worth it."

Uncle Willie was killed in WW1, and Uncle Jack had to join up in WW2 - so Uncle Willie's sacrifice wasn't worth it.

Dull Sunday afternoon

We took the Austrian girls for a picnic in Wendover woods, where all the world and his friends were, so there weren't any barbecues left for us to use. We got out our picnic blankets and had a picnic on the salad and buns and crisps and apples and home made apple cake. We just didn't have a barbecue. It didn't rain.

Then we visited Tring museum, admired the stuffed bear, gorillas, foxes, dogs, ate icecreams and came back in the dull light of not-quite-raining.

Everyone must be back from their two week summer break, ready to get the children back to school on Thursday at the start of September (after the teachers have had their inset days), so the museum was heaving with children - I've never seen it so busy. The first time we went there in 1999 or 2000, it was so quiet you'd have thought any noise was a ghost.

Woods and museum full of people. But there were very few at tae kwon do.

Relatives

Son's off to see some relatives. He saw some nice ones a couple of weeks ago, so nice that he sent a bunch of flowers as a thank you, but forgot to say who they were from. Someone's got a mystery surprise.

Home again

We are safely home despite a flat tyre on the M40.

On the way we

1. went up the cliff railway at Bridgnorth, - see the video
   
   
2. visited the Severn Valley Railway


3. picnicked by a canal,
4. and visited the Boulton exhibition in Birmingham.

The children enjoyed 'minting' coins, taking coin rubbings, or stamping golden coloured paper. I hadn't realised Boulton had had a contract to make copper pennies, particularly cartwheels, called that because of the ridge round the outside.

I have a similar one - a huge copper penny, dated 1799 with George III's head. I bought it for half a crown from a girl in school whose grandfather had found it in a wall of his cottage.

Holidaying in Shropshire

At 9 o'clock in the evening, the children are at the top of the youth hostel, helping another child make a jigsaw. I sip a glass of rose and husband's had Severn Valley Railway Manor Ale. The dining room has just emptied of the last family to eat - another pair of grandparents and two of their grandchildren - so we're not the only potty people to revert to youth hostelling in old age.

Today husband drove us to the Long Mynd, then walked the children for an hour and a half over the hills while I drove on to a car park where we met up before visiting the Midlands Gilding Club just another mile over the moor. We enjoyed a filter coffee and I showed the children gliders - a Skylark 4 - I used to have one - and we watched people rigging a K6. Granddaughter got interested enough to start photographing gliders, inside and out, and their trailers too.

The weather wasn't yet good enough to launch anything, but you could see the clouds for miles, over to the sea. And the colours of the heather on the moor was beautiful. The vertiginous road up from Church Stretton provides wonderful views of the vale.

In the afternoon we visited Ludlow Castle where the children ran round merrily. Raf is being a pirate at the moment, so the castle gave him an opportunity to evade the navy, and to wave his (floppy orange) sword. Wearing a green bandanna, an orange plastic gun thrust into his trouser pocket and an orange tea sheet, he looks dressed the part.

Youth hostelling

We're off youth hostelling again with the two eldest grandchildren. We leave our Austrian visitors in the charge of daughter.

Wilderhope Manor is our destination, a National Trust property. But the trip to get there is itself interesting. We headed for Ironbridge and visited a couple of its museums: Engenuity and the Museum of Iron. Engenuity enticed the children with its many activities, water & potential or kinetic energy, damming fords and opening dams, splashing the water to encourage it to flow, electrical energy to power a radio, a light, a vacuum cleaner, a video camera and TV or a pair of flying pigs - they took little energy. In the Iron Museum we explored history of cast iron and had a cup of tea.

The hostel was somewhat difficult to find - we had the address and a map but not directions so by heading off in the wrong direction on the right road a couple of times, we had to triangulate in on it. But arrived too late to order supper. See similar situation in Ireland a couple of weeks ago. We toddled off down the road to the local pub again.

The hostel is this amazing Elizabethan building with stone fireplaces, fancy ceilings marked with 'S' for the Smallman family who lived here and two oak spiral staircases, one for the servants and one slightly wider one for the family. The children have great times haring up and down the different staircases, romping along the corridors, chasing each other, playing hide and seek.

We share a four bunk attic room with our own bathroom. Breakfast in the large stone flagged dining hall. The upper floors are boarded, which is why we can hear the children thumping along the corridors and through the dormitories. The entrance hall is embellished with swallows' nests - one still occupied in the evening by "teenage" swallows, well able to fly, but squawk loudly when their parents arrive.

La Motte du Caire

from http://cvvmc.free.fr/webcam.php

Oxford Gliding Club barbecue evening

We went to the Oxford Gliding Club barbecue evening yesterday - all of us, husband, son, daughter and our two Austrian visitors.

My first barbecue there was August, 1976. They really are a friendly club, welcoming us, though I haven't visited for some years. Several people came and chatted, some remembering me and some even recognising son & daughter as their father's children. They told son and daughter tales of their father, about the decca navigation system he made, and a speed gun avoidance device that confused the doppler effect of the police radar gun. It read 140mph when he was doing 40.

The food was delicious and heaps of it for mere pounds: salmon, pork crackling, salads galore followed by three varieties of pudding. I thought the Austrian girls were falling asleep, but they woke up enough to charge their way through the crowds for at least three helpings of strawberries, then went back to play on the swings.

There were bottles of bubbles on the tables for us to play with.

One of the pilots was a flame juggler - if I'd known there'd be such entertainment I'd have taken my Flip video. Then someone produced those noisy twirly balloons that fly into the sky and around with a screech, like they are live animals. We had fun with those.

I was having such a good time that my children had to drag me away so that they could get to bed.

Austrians

The girls' programme includes:

• Oxford
• Stratford-upon-Avon / Bicester Village
• London Tour
• Isle of Wight
• London: Hyde Park etc.

One day they will meet the mayor, visit the museum and the library. Another day they depart for Scotland: Gretna Green area and return from Scotland the next day, stopping overnight in a four star hotel.

On Saturday they visit London: Wimbledon/Oxford Street/with a Matinee of ‘Sister Act’ (Palladium). Daughter is going with them.

They have a day spent with Host Families with an optional afternoon gathering for all family members & students for a picnic/BBQ at Wendover Woods (weather permitting).

And finish with a visit to Thorpe Park.

Austrian visitors

Two Austrian girls are visiting us again. One is the same one who came last year. She's asked to come back with us and has brought a different friend. They start with lessons the first couple of days but otherwise have a hectic programme, led by their wonderfully enthusiastic, energetic and flamboyant teacher.

Links to Afro Jumbo Jeegs

The videos of Afro Jumbo Jeeg's performance at Vernasca is on youtube. Here they are doing acrobatics and limbo dancing with audience participation.

and here they play with fire

They skip here, again with audience participation.

Ireland photos

Here's the bloody nose husband made himself when he fell down the double decker bus stairs.

And here's the view from the honeymoon suite. It was lovely.

The third photo is what I could see when we got lost trying to find Powerscourt. I couldn't enjoy the views because I'm too short to see over high hedges. Husband pointed the hostel out on the hill in the distance and I scrambled up to get the photo. See how far we'd already walked, and there was another hour's walking yet to come. Notice too the rain clouds - it wasn't even a sunny walk.

Finally, I got one photo of the Powerscourt gardens, that I had no energy left to stroll round. Notice how the weather cleared up to make a glorious afternoon.

Sunday in Ireland

Still away celebrating the fortieth wedding anniversary of old university friends (OHFs). After a long late evening that included a Spanish buffet, a quiz on our hosts' friends' activities,

• (who has an o-gauge in his garden?
• who has a dog called Ceviz?
• who're vegetarians?)

and a sing song round the campfire, we repaired to our various dormitories and bunks. People worried about waking each other in the night.

"Do you snore?"
"I have to get up in the night - I'm sorry."
"I always have to get up in the night."

We allayed each others' fears and set to sleep. At 3.30 in the morning, my new friend in the top bunk quietly crept down her ladder, and..

kicked over the bedside stool of my friend sleeping in the next bunk. Over went her alarm clock, book and contact lenses. On went someone's torch. Muttered apologies all round, giggles from some of us. Since we were awake, four out of the six of us then got up and went to loo. One of the loos didn't lock very well - there was a man in it. Given that we're all old enough to be celebrating decades of marriage, you might not have expected this much activity in the wee small hours. Or perhaps it was the wee bit that was the problem.

Morning dawned. We anticipated a long or a short walk. Some stalwarts set off to trek to the top of Powercourt Waterfalls. Others (like me) just reconnoitred the river, leaving some including the children for a nice swim and a splash. It was a lovely spot so not surprising that it was rumoured that some of us women had been skinny dipping that that morning. I came back to the hostel and sat in the sun, listening to interesting chat, looking over the hills, idly watching a helicopter.

The swimmers returned with our hostess. Sadly, our hostess's mobile phone rang with bad news. Three of the stalwarts had gone even further ahead of the main party and one had collapsed with a suspect heart attack. The helicopter had picked the invalid and her husband up, and taken them to hospital. The third was walking back on her own.

Fortunately, an hour later we heard from the husband in the hospital that heart attack victim was alive and well, and having tests. We were able to take the bus back to the station in peace. It had been a lovely weekend.

What was lovely?

• The Saturday afternoon weather was sunny, not rainy like during the morning walk.
• The meal was delicious.
• OHFs' friends were as lovely, as interesting and as bright people as our OHFs, people you'd like to get to know better.
• The honeymoon suite was lovely - comfortable, and fun.
• The hostel was clean and functional.
• The green countryside was fascinating, smelt and looked beautiful.
• The Irish transport (DART, taxis, buses) worked and went on time.

Saturday in Ireland

Am I tired!

Husband suggested we take a stroll to Powerscourt, this ancient Irish house, with wonderful gardens. We'd need to walk back and catch the bus - not far. But he thought we should walk round the back way and be there quicker.

"By coffee time"

he promised me.

"That's eleven o'clock?"

I checked. Yes, fine.

At ten o'clock we leave, down narrow lanes with high hedges. I can't see a thing. We're not there by eleven, and then he starts to read his map. We're not there by twelve. We're not there by one o'clock. We arrive around 1.15, and I don't get to sit down until 1.30. We must have walked nine miles. And husband's in the doghouse again.

We lunched, then sat around a bit - my legs being too tired to explore the gardens, enjoyed a cup of tea on the terrace, then got a taxi back to the hostel, where all the other guests were beginning to congregate, ready for the party - our friends' fortieth wedding anniversary.

Now we are allocated bunk beds in dormitories. There are seventy guests, so I assume lots of us are in dormitories. I'm in the girls dormitory and our husbands are in the boys dormitory next door. I bag a bed and start to make it up when two jolly women arrive. I've already met them in the hall, greeting long friends. But now I see them together I realise they look very much the same.

"We're twins."

I spend the next few hours meeting friends of our friends, memorising names, comparing how we know know them. I videoing meeting and then the speeches, and the song that two of the granddaughters sing. I'll put them all on a CD as a memento for friends.

Champagne drunk and toasts made we repair for the meal - a Spanish buffet