A nice surprise this week - an email from a friend in Germany, who found the blog in passing, and tracked me down to my work email address. What I like about this is that we met back in 1993, and despite not meeting up much since, emails and letters, off and on, have helped us keep up with each other.
Sometimes the world goes rattling ahead and we expect that nothing will stay the same. But he’s still a teacher, I’m still working with teachers (and aspiring ones), and all of a sudden you realise that quite a few things can stay the same. And it’s rather a nice feeling.
I also heard from a friend working abroad - who is taking the trouble to put up lots of nice pics on his blog of life in Asia. Having another friend living in the same country, it’s great to get more of a sense of what life is like there, with both of them in mind. Sometimes speed of change is good - how much easier is it to keep up with people, even after a gap, when it’s so quick and easy to find out how they are getting on, via emails, blogs and so on?
Today, it was time for a game of ‘oh, you know…X too’? A friend at work was showing pictures of his wedding, and we recognised that their photographer was probably related to someone I know from a completely different context. Admittedly, the longer you stay in Edinburgh, the easier it is to play this game, but it’s still nice when it happens, particularly when you’re also saying goodbyes to other people heading away from Edinburgh.
What also interests me here is that all these connections this week came through men - when it’s still probably assumed that women have the monopoly on keeping address books, remembering birthdays, and generally keeping communication flowing. Maybe these chaps are all in the New (Communicative) Man category.
But still, three cheers for continuity. Britain may be a bit hard pressed at the moment, what with difficult financial circumstances at so many different levels. It’s not the ‘Blitz spirit’. But it’s still welcome.
October 23rd, 2009
Here’s a thing: last weekend we had a food-related party, swapping jams, chutneys and so on. Yesterday I caught up with some newspapers from a few weeks ago, and found an article relating to people living in the country, with ‘any social occasion’ (including meeting at the school gates) resulting in frenzied jam swapping.
The part of the paper this was in has two regular columns - one is a country perspective (written from someone who seems to have started living in the country more recently, and at times is rather bemused by it), another a very townie perspective (particularly that week’s one, where life anywhere other than in London is treated with a certain suspicion).
Nothing new, eh, but given that most of us swapping jams etc live in or near cities, I wondered if that makes us city bumpkins? Perhaps there’s a lot of us in that situation - we may have grown up in smaller places, have come to the city to study or work. Several years on, here we still are, enjoying a lot of the benefits of the larger place but hankering after some of the aspects of smaller places, such as being a bit closer to nature.
Maybe instead those of us who got together are foodies, or environmentalists, or both, responding to this particular economic phase: looking at the recession, natural resources reducing and so on, and having a spot of home production to go with it. Or it may be a stage in life, if trying to feed growing families. (Maybe we can get a group grant from Good Housekeeping, or the Guardian, if we feel particularly self-righteous about it…)
Maybe it’s part of (early?) middle age - enjoying the little things in life, simple pleasures like watching the colour of elderberries as they’re cooking away; doing a task that allows you to slow your brain down a bit. Maybe it’s the belated fun of the pick ‘n mix - swapping things means that I get to try other people’s food that maybe I wouldn’t have thought to make, or to sample something new amid the other familiar items.
For my part, it’s also part of a growing desire to be creative - to make things, have fun doing so, and share a bit of that with others, particularly if they enjoy that too. Yes, I’m doing it in part to avoid too much Christmas present shopping later, but also because I like the process of making things - particularly food-related things.
All of the above. But what matters this weekend is that the apple chutney I made in September is now tasing very good with cheese…
October 11th, 2009
Everyone likes a happy ending - or a happy beginning. It’s been a week of good news for various friends, and even if the enjoyment of that is as an onlooker, it’s still good. Darker mornings, political parties trying oneupmanship in how much they want to make public sector cuts, need for central heating that bit earlier in the evening, we can all do with a bit of cheer at times like this.
Sometimes, in the midst of waiting for various things to happen in other quarters, life takes a slight turn, and I find my own green shoots - small perhaps, not a ‘green shoots of recovery’ moment, but still worth celebrating. Spending time with family, doing new things with friends, trying new recipes…
For all of my struggling with decrease of daylight at this time of year, somewhere along the line I find that this year’s autumn has a bit more of the mellow, less of the mists of the same time last year. Blogging at that point was an escape, a place to rail a bit at life. This year, I restart the blog again…and then find I am doing things again, away from writing, and that there is perhaps a better balance.
A friend of mine is also exploring new directions, like me a little at a time. Neither of us necessarily sought out these things, whether hobbies or new approaches, but we’re finding life in them, and turning to find others encouraging us on. That helps me breathe a bit easier - enjoy what’s in front of me.
Sometimes hope is stronger than we realise. The green shoots may seem thin, but we see them there one day, return to them the next and find them still there. Sometimes they stand out because of the earlier days spent looking at ‘bare ground’, waiting for something to change - but not just because of this.
Much of this experience is tenative, a little fearful still. There is not the big rush of the large celebration, the milestone in life. But it’s still there, still real, a small harvest.
October 8th, 2009
I was a bit bemused to find my favourite newspaper encouraging sensible Germans to save less and spend more.
The Economist has been the way I ‘connect’ with the real rather than the virtual world over the last ten years and I think it may have just lost the plot.
We are being encouraged to save more - or at least pay off our own debts - and buy less so that we don’t get into debt in the first place. To find a voice that is so usually sensible suggesting that a nation of savers has got it all wrong is a bit of a shame.
Germany is Europe’s best hope of encouraging a change towards responsible citizenship, enlightened laws, local action and green industry. I wonder if Cameron, Osborne, et al will berate Merkel for her country not buying enough tat. Hopefully not.
Having just bought something of value - a watch - the first one I’ve bought since 1995 (or worn since 2003 if I’m honest), we should indeed be saving more and spending less.
Tut, tut Mr Economist. Go for it Mrs Merkel… get those Euros in the bank.
September 20th, 2009
Wasn’t sure whether to post this on Twitter or Facebook, but thought perhaps the blog was just the place and so that way it wouldn’t disappear below a whole load of other posts that quickly!
Renault’s marketing people have - as the title suggests - given a very poor name to their new eco car.
It’s called the Fluence.
Unfortunately if you put an e at the start of that, it sounds like e(f)fluence.
To be fair, an effluence is a flowing out, something being let loose. In my mind it has connotations of a bit of a pong.
He used to say ‘what an obnoxious effluvium’. Quite a vocabulary building lesson for a seven year old.
So, a car called Fluence might be okay if the electricity it uses will eventually come from rotting veg or human poop, but I don’t think their marketing department covered themselves in glory on this occasion.
What is impressive is that it will charge to 80% capacity from a 230v source in 20 minutes. That’s quicker than my phone…
September 20th, 2009
The sun has been shining on Edinburgh, shining with all its might, even at the weekend, apologies to Lewis Carroll notwithstanding. Last Saturday, we managed an Outing which I am now thinking of as a bramble ramble. The fact that I can also now write about it may make it a (short) ramble about brambles, so the title stays.
The cycle path network is where trains used to run in the past through the north of Edinburgh. Our possible commuting loss is our free time gain, and one of the reasons I like living where we do - easy to get about without always travelling on main roads.
As well as the brambles, we saw quite a lot of (mostly now empty) raspberry canes too, which led me to think that we need an earlier sortie down there next year. We were also able to get some rosehips, some elderberries, and some other berries which I enthusiastically hoped were sloes but turned out not to be when I got them home and checked.
There’s clearly a good level of traffic up and down the cycle paths - some cycles, plenty of people out on foot too. What interested me was the range of responses that our brambling brought out in passersby.
Most positive: two sisters plus dad: “Blackberries! Excellent!” said the younger sister, and they stopped to pick and eat near us. The elder sister lost no opportunity to tell the younger one what not to do; the younger one lost no opportunity to eat brambles and ignore her sister.
Next response: a dad and a son going by. They both seemed to know what we were doing, and the dad then proceeded to talk to the boy about large bramble roots as they then walked on. He had a point - some of the runners coming out from the plants were particularly impressive (or aggressive, depending on your interpretation) this year.
Somewhat worrying response: family and friends party on foot, youngest girl in full princess dress regalia, but still at least four years old, I think. As they passed, she was heard to ask “What are they doing?” I had to hope that someone would tell her, but they didn’t while we were in earshot.
What saddened me about the last response was that such a simple and easy activity was unknown to the girl, and that she and her family were missing out, not just on treats but free treats, and a family activity too. When you can get free and exciting sauces for icecream from cooking brambles, as well as the brambles themselves, what price princess dresses?
September 15th, 2009
…sing along! This post is dedicated to Oscar, who came all the way from Germany to see us in February. (His mum Grit, a former flat mate of mine, tagged along too.)
Oscar has been learning some songs in English, and their visit was punctuated by spontaneous “If you’re happy and you know it” singing sessions. Two on the Royal Mile, on separate days, one on the way up Arthur’s Seat (if I remember rightly for the last day).
What was nice was a) getting a sense of when Oscar was enjoying himself, by his choice of song and b) seeing the reactions from passersby. One couple clearly thought this was a good idea and joined in one occasion. But for me, the fun was also seeing Edinburgh from the perspective of a 5 year old boy, and enjoying all the spontaneity, singing included, that that allowed for.
Oscar was occasionally unsure of what he was actually singing…”Slap you sigh…” turned out to be [if you’re happy and you know it] slap your thigh! But his number skills in English were well developed, allowing for some good bus number spotting when heading into town, and we all got by in a mixture of English and German (a bit of a treat for me too, that way).
We took in tourist attractions, to be sure, but also identified car types on the road, collected shells from the beach and strung them together, discovered a sea slug which was iridescent, played some card games, posed for LOTS of photos, tried bilingual bedtime stories (having the same book in two languages), and engaged in significant role play while climbing Arthur’s Seat, following orders from General Oscar. I was certainly happy…and thankfully, I think our visitors were too.
September 15th, 2009
None too good at lucid thought in the mornings on the way to work. There’s a reason why they put free papers on the buses in the mornings. It gives us something to hide behind.
I’m usually not even awake enough for that, more about staring out the window and hoping to wake up after the mid morning coffee, at least. But every now and then, I see a few sights from the bus that wake me up a little: if only to try to work out what I saw.
Large man approaches the nursery near the entrance to Granton Road. He is carrying a small girl on his shoulder, and her rather pink rucksack in one hand. As the bus pulls past, I realise that he has a tabard on the back which says “Security”. Is this a metaphor for our society’s fear of harm to children, or just a man dropping off his daughter at nursery before going to work?
Passing a group of commuters, one reading a paper while standing at the bus stop, I realise that he appears not just to be reading it but sniffing it…Is he hoping to impart the information more quickly? Are there any lingering solvents he’s trying to take in?
Another man stands at a bus stop, with a small child in a sling on his front. The child gets gradually larger as the weeks go by. I never see him interact with the child. The child never looks up at him either. But the child does seem peaceful. Perhaps they are just allowed to be as vacant as I am in the mornings.
Another lady boards the bus in a smart outfit, all vintage dress and flowing shawl. She carries what seems to be a wheeled suitcase, and at first I think she is a tourist. Then she keeps turning up with the same suitcase, but different outfits each day.
She still wears the shawl on a day which is tipping it down. I still wonder if she is in fact a tourist, as opposed to a resident, who will either wear a wind and rainproof jacket all year round (like me) or a T shirt all year round (like some of the people who wait at my morning bus stop).
When I was a waitress full time, for part of my gap year before university, I worked in a cafe which had a lot of regulars. As members of staff, we knew to expect them. Some of them even gained nicknames in time (whether they knew them was another matter).
As a usually daily commuter, at times I feel similar to this, spotting the regulars as well as the ‘irregulars’, in terms of the unusual. Certainly I don’t think I dress in an exciting enough way to stand out to other people watchers. But maybe I’m a regular to someone else, caught in their own dream of morning on the move.
September 14th, 2009
It’s good to know that, while some of us missed Beatlemania the first time round, there’s still opportunities to catch up - or get caught up - one way or another. Read my way through a fairly useful guide to all the albums and singles included in the weekend paper - I now have more of an understanding of the order of album production, which is sure to come in very handy at some point (Beatles pub quiz, anyone?).
What stood out for me more was a Storyville documentary on the impact of the Beatles on the young people of the Soviet Union in the early 60s, and beyond. An example of good journalism, I would say: the starting premise - that the Beatles’ influence helped the fall of Communism even more than perestroika etc - was actually confirmed, again and again, through the film. The maker of the film indicated his initial uncertainty at this claim, but there were so many people interviewed who iterated the claim that you got to feel by the end that it must be true.
The bit we laughed at was hearing how someone worked out how to make a guitar pickup out of telephone components - result: sudden rash of vandalism of call boxes the next day as lots of people rushed out to try it for themselves. (Not commending vandalism, but in terms of an example of effectively railing against the system, it did have a certain kudos.)
By the end of the programme, seeing footage of Paul McCartney playing a concert in Kiev - to a crowd standing there throughout pouring rain, hearing one of their heroes playing “Back in the USSR” to them - it was hard not to wipe away a tear.
For some of the interviewees, it also brought home to me the impact of banning religion under Communism, and the desire of people to find something to believe in. Lennon may have quipped about being bigger than Jesus, but if Jesus is banned, then it’s not entirely surprising if people choose to find something or someone else to believe in, and some people really did see the Beatles in a more religious light, even before their visits to India.
It also reminded me of the impact of what people pass on to you. Both Dan and I grew up with hearing the Beatles - my parents had the records, Dan’s mum even got to go to a concert or two and scream with everyone else. Reading this little booklet from the newspaper, with current and contemporary assessment of the albums and individual songs, it was interesting to compare their comments with my own take on some of the songs.
Sergeant Pepper is the album everyone know - or feels they do. As an adult, the trippy references become clearer - as a child, it just sounds like something akin to Alice in Wonderland “where looking glass people eat marshmallow pies”, part of that same happy environment of nonsense that is hardwired into children’s literature in the UK.
It was quite fun reading others’ comments in the booklet about their own take on certain songs, if hearing about the Beatles as a child. My brother thought that “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” was about our dog Lucy (there’s not a lot of dog references in the song, I’ll give you), for example. “Yellow Submarine” may annoy adults, but works perfectly well as a kids singalong - not every pop band can achieve that, as well as astounding the adults with their latest innovations in sound.
It wasn’t just that the songs were part of my childhood. References to the songs were also part of my childhood: Peter Sellers’ take off of “A Hard Day’s Night”, in the style of Richard III; “Here Comes the Sun” being used for the theme tune to the Holiday programme on TV.
They formed the backdrop to key activities such as holiday car journeys - the album Hard Day’s Night was a crucial part of the car tape repertoire, which in turn meant that we all sang along. Long car journeys from various parts of England, up to the west coast of Scotland, give you a long time to tune your ear into their harmonies, and to experience that thing so satisfying as a child, your parents enjoying something for themselves and including you in it.
So it seems that wherever we are on the long and winding road since Beatlemania, we still need them. We still enjoy them. Through new computer games, we can even learn to play and sing like them (finances and equipment permitting). And we still find new uses for their songs.
Reading this little booklet, there are several references to Paul McCartney adding in the song “Her Majesty” at the end of one album, and various people (Lennon and critics alike) disliking the song. Cut to a few decades later, and a certain concert for the Golden Jubilee - and suddenly we realise that there’s even a song there, ready made, when a certain songwriter is important enough, and long lived enough, to sing that song to the lady herself.
September 13th, 2009
The nights are drawing in, and so on. Myself, I think the days are drawing in, and the nights are sneaking up behind and getting in on the act. However you view it, I thought it was starting to get sufficiently seasonal to write this post.
Stew vs. mash is not my evening meal quandry (particularly as Dan is kindly off cooking something completely different), but more of a musing on terms used to indicate when a cup or pot of tea is ready. Brew, draw, etc, all fine - but how likely is it linguistically to get two terms that get used for other food activities AND actually fit with each other, in terms of their other meaning?
Purists will tell me that stew is the point when the tea has gone beyond ready, but it just interested me to see this little pattern arising, in relation to that beloved drink of the UK. I was going to write national drink, but a) coffee may have overtaken it and b) the news is now in the papers that Diageo will not keep jobs in Kilmarnock (for Johnny Walker whisky), so those viewing whisky as the national drink have enough to worry about without a rival claim from tea today.
Meanwhile, the Scotsman did one of its longer pieces on a forthcoming book about an enterprising Scot who did lots of exploring (and/or smuggling, according to your viewpoint) of plants in China, ultimately leading to the identification of a wide range of tea plants. The article tried to hang it on the idea of the man being responsible for tea coming to the UK - perhaps not, but another of those popular science stories that turn out to be fairly amazing.
Dan is reading “Connections” - not an English text book (ah, all those travel-related titles beloved of ELT editors) but the book accompanying the James Burke TV series of many moons ago. The gist of it is that one invention or discovery, big or small, may lead on to many others, and the cumulative effect may be far more than anyone would have thought at the time of the original discovery.
I don’t know quite what you would trace as a line of inventions coming from tea, but I do know that I would ‘invent’ far fewer documents or other items of hopefully (useful) purpose without a certain reliance on tea in the afternoons. Maybe that’s enough connection. From stew to mash, and hence to gravy (train)?
September 10th, 2009
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