284: getting the hang of Thursday

Thursday was GCSE results today for Thing 2 – we were at school for 8am and then went straight to her chosen college to enrol. Jill brought me coffee in the queue, as she works there, and when the doors opened we got her signed up on the Culinary Arts course and kitted out with chef’s whites, her very own apron and oven cloth, and a pair of extremely no-nonsense steel-toe-capped kitchen shoes. I can’t decide whether she looks grown up or dressed up, but I’m extremely relieved that she got the grades she needed and onto the course she wanted. Apparently there is a shortage of patisserie chefs, so I have heroically volunteered as a taste tester should she go down that route.

Thursday afternoon had more drama – I’ve been feeding Ziggy and the Piggies for the last ten days or so* (next door’s mighty hunter cat and guinea pigs, not a Bowie tribute band) and while chatting to the other neighbour she mentioned that she thought Ziggy had caught a magpie but not killed it, as it was sitting on their lawn. Off I went with Doctor Doolittle (aka my Beloved) in tow to see if the ‘pie could be saved. Its wings were working as it kept flapping away from us, but its legs were dragging. We couldn’t see any cat damage, and Ziggy wasn’t around, so after some manoeuvring Dr D managed to get it into a cardboard box and we covered it with a wire frame to prevent cat attack. In between adding bits to my learning strategy I tried contacting the local wildlife rescues in the hope they’d come and help but they said that if the legs were damaged it couldn’t be rehabbed. I phoned the vet and took Mr Magpie (no idea where his wife and/or children were, though obviously I asked as it’s only polite) round to them. I suspect they would have had to put him to sleep, as the new receptionist didn’t look very hopeful, but at least he was safe from cats.

He wasn’t a fledgeling as all his beautiful feathers were in. We have experience with fledgelings, as we once rescued a baby woodpigeon who’d fallen out of the nest and kept him in a box on the trampoline for a couple of weeks while his anxious parents flew down and fed him. I don’t know whether he was a single chick who was just too fat for them to get back off the ground or if he just went too early. Eventually the rest of his feathers grew in and he fledged properly over a couple of days and headed off. We also used to have a collared dove pair who nested in the Christmas tree where the treehouse was and we always enjoyed watching their nestlings hop around on the railings. We’re lucky enough to have a lot of mature trees around the garden, and usually have robins, blue tits (who treat the trampoline net as a climbing frame), blackbird, woodpigeon and magpie families raising chicks every year. There’s a fierce wren who chased Ziggy off, much to his surprise and embarrasment, and a poser of a bullfinch who sits on a tree stump and shows off. The odd sparrowhawk has been known to rest on the edge of the sunroom roof, and the roof pigeons like to sit on the glass roof and wind up the cats.

There’s a gang of teen corvids – a couple of jackdaws, a rook and a magpie – who terrorise the neighbourhood feeders and hang out on roofs cawing, and sometimes we get visits from the village peacocks on a wander. I think they have extended their territory into the woods behind the house as they were regularly waking me up at 4am earlier in the summer despite sleeping in Loop earplugs. Colin the pheasant – named by our builders, who reckoned he strutted about like one of their lads – used to be a regular visitor and was tame enough to hand feed monkey nuts to. We haven’t had a pheasant for a while but we have had badger cubs in the garden again this year, and a fox investigating the Blink camera. I like to sit out and work in the garden and listen to the different songs – the BirdNet app is great for identifying all the different species.

*Ziggy self-catered this morning, however, choosing to picnic on something in our garden. This is fine, as last time I was in charge of him he was leaving me decapitated meeces in the mornings.

Making me happy this week…

This week was vastly improved by the existence of Wednesday which was bracketed by early morning coffee with Amanda and after work (nonalcoholic)* cocktails with Rhiannon. Epping continues to disappoint, as did the High Court interim injunction this week which is bound to be seen as a precedent for all sorts of other councils to take umbrage at the Home Office’s flagrant disregard for change of use applications and so on. Of course this meant there was shouting and celebrating outside the Bell, where the residents are already too scared to leave the building. The ‘decorators’ have been active in our village again, which I hope doesn’t mean they’re going to start terrorising the families in the Phoenix. I am a cynic, so I suspect the lack of public transport and criminal opportunities other than the farm shop and soft play next door might put the hoi polloi off visiting, unless they fancy some expensive sausages and some cake.

Anyway, Rhiannon and I tried a new food hall type place near St Paul’s Station, where I had a ‘Light & Stormy‘ which was remarkably convincing. It had a herbal elixir (an excellent word) instead of dark rum apparently it contains trendy mushrooms. Whatever- I liked it and if it wasn’t just as expensive as rum I might get fonder of it. We didn’t eat although there was a good range of food options. We had agreed ahead of time that we’d spend exactly ten minutes having a rant, although we did add two minutes for AOB (well, expressing our disbelief at members of the local council). We had a timer and everything, and then we had a lovely couple of hours chatting about everything else.

*apart from the tequila slammer that the nice man gave us in exchange for leaving a review.

A solo trip to Harlow where I had a holiday mani/pedi so I have pretty nails – the colour is Thai Chilli Red which isn’t too red or too orange. It wasn’t my first choice but they’d run out of that – red with a burst of gold – and I like it a lot.
Not Amazon, who have annoyed me this week by failing to deliver a parcel three days this week as they were unable to find my front door. Suggesting they got out of the van and walked up the drive was not helpful.

This week I will be working from France, and appreciating not having to think about feeding people or public transport. I shall mostly be shortlisting…

Same time next week, people!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Furthest Station/The Hanging Tree – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

The Postman’s Path – Alan Cleaver. meh. Took back to library without finishing as it was disappointing. If ever a book needed Illustration it was this one. He kept going on about sketching and doing walks but there were no sketches shon or even a map. Great premise, poorly executed despite good reviews.

Midnight & Blue – Ian Rankin

The Book of Doors – Gareth Brown

80: umbrellas and Marjorie Proops

There has been a standing joke among the learning team that every time I go out with the play kit I bring the rain. This week I have been out all week in schools and for four out of five days the rain was torrential at times, and on the one day it wasn’t I brought a plague of wasps instead. There’s definitely a pattern forming, and at this rate no one will sign up to work with me next summer! Still, we had a good week and met a whole lot of children at two primary schools in Tower Hamlets, as well as working with games designer Rex Crowle (Little Big Planet/Knights and Bikes) and a Tower Hamlets secondary school to deliver a webinar as part of the V&A’s Upstart Careers Festival. On Friday night – not surprisingly – I was unconscious on the sofa at 7.30pm.

With further rain forecast, my best friend A and I had planned one of our ‘culture and cocktails’ days out – this time to the second of the Magnificent Seven cemeteries. This week marked 30 years since we met on our first day at university in Preston: it still feels like yesterday since we arrived with our parents and our worldly possessions with no idea of where we’d be staying (Lancashire Polytechnic, as it was at the time, wasn’t that organised – a large number of students used to be bussed in from Southport’s Pontins holiday camp until accommodation was found). My first sighting of A was of her throwing a strop in the car park, and then we found ourselves in opposite rooms in the same flat. We’ve grown older (if not up), produced six kids between us, become mad cat ladies, ranted a LOT and supported each other through all sorts of good and bad things. Every so often we manage a day out – not as often as we’d like – and we do love a cemetery.

We visited Highgates East and West back in May, and so this time we went anticlockwise round to Kensal Green. This is the last resting place of people like Brunels (Isambard and Marc), Charles Babbage, Steve Took, the odd royal, a whole lot of political types and thousands of people like you and me. Some rejoiced in the most glorious names: Eudoxia Penemenos, for example, and Andalusia Grant, who we were pleased to find had lived up to her name with an interesting life. The cemetery is also a good illustration of the area’s multicultural make up: Irish, African-Caribbean, Vietnamese, Cypriot, Italian, Greek names and more, and even a stone entirely in Welsh. I was very taken with the stone of David Montgomery Pelham, ‘impresario’, whose epitaph read ‘I would not have missed it for anything’.

The tomb of Andrew Ducrow, equestrian and circus owner, caught our imagination with its sphinxes, bee skep and magnificent hat.

A tradition of our days out is that one of us will be approached by some strange person, and hanging about in graveyards only increases the chances of that. This time it was an elderly gent who’d been leaning into a skip, only to lurch towards us when we approached and start going on about umbrellas and Marjorie Proops (I have just checked and she’s buried elsewhere!) – and then he kept running after us! We thwarted him by striking out cross country, and spent some time wondering whether he was the resident ghost. Highgate has its vampire, perhaps Kensal Green has the old man who got wet and died of a chill, and is doomed to wander the paths for eternity in search of an umbrella….

The cocktails part happened at Parlour, on Regent Street (not that one). We had their weekly seasonal lunch which at £19 for three courses was very good. I had the smoked mackerel, chicory and apple salad to start followed by fillet of sea bream with peppers and almonds, while A had baked goats cheese followed by slow cooked Goosnargh duck with beetroot and blackberries. We both finished up with the artic roll, in coffee dolce and chocolate peanut butter flavour. I had the Kensal Green Tea and A had a Hot ‘Queen’s Park’ Mama and a Lady Cosmo. I think we’ll be back: so friendly and the food was great.

This morning I have been swimming: the water temperature was down to 14.6 and we expect to start the winter swimming season next weekend. I’ve dug out my woolly hat and onesie already!

That’s all, folks – see you here for week 81!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Lords and Ladies – Terry Pratchett

Gobbelino London and a Melee of Mages – Kim M. Watt

Inspector Hobbes and the Common People – Wilkie Martin

Carpe Jugulum – Terry Pratchett (Audible)

59: culture and cocktails

Yesterday my best friend and I made our long-delayed visit to Highgate Cemetery, for no reason other than that we rather like a good graveyard. We’d planned to visit it last year but what with one lockdown and another we’d had to put it off. Pre-pandemic, the only way to visit the West (older) cemetery was on a guided tour, but they have been trialling self-guided visits, advance booked in timed slots. This was one of our culture and cocktail days, when we would usually go and see an exhibition or a museum and then have a very indulgent lunch: previous excursions have included The Lost Words at the Foundling Museum, Frida Kahlo at the V&A, and the Mail Rail and Postal Museum. We weren’t able to book anywhere for lunch so the plan was to get and M&S picnic with ready mixed cocktails and go and eat in Waterlow Park between visiting the West and East cemeteries.

Typically, yesterday was the first day of torrential rain in months: it’s been so dry and sunny, if not always warm! Luckily, we met at uni in Preston so we are quite used to rain, so we dug out the waterproofs and sensible shoes (how times change!) and met up at Kings Cross – track failure on the Central Line and the complete breakdown of all new LNER trains notwithstanding. After grabbing our picnic we hopped on the Northern Line and headed for Archway tube. We changed carriages once as there was a very strange man eyeing up handbags – we have never been out anywhere over the years without there being at least one weirdo involved, and at least this one didn’t tell me his life story. On our Mail Rail day a man accosted me at Kings Cross and told me all about his unfair dismissal from Royal Mail, as he was off to Parliament to protest about it. Bless him, I don’t think he’d realised there was an anti-Brexit march going on at the same time…my friend was crying with laughter from a distance as I am a magnet for weirdos.

We started with Highgate West, following the main route to start with and then wandering down the smaller paths as they appeared – there was a really helpful volunteer as we arrived, who kept popping up with useful information across the day. The sites are run by the Friends of Highgate Cemetery, so everyone is full of interesting knowledge – I do love a volunteer!

We were enchanted by the way the grounds have been left to grow wild, and spotted little Great Tits and a beautiful jay as we walked around. It does mean a lot of the space is inaccessible as many of the monuments and graves are unsafe, but even the main paths give you a good view and they are very well maintained. There’s a red route on the map which gives you the highlights like the Circle of Lebanon, the Egyptian Avenue and the main tombs, but you can also follow the smaller marked paths.

We were surprised to find the grave of Alexander Litvinenko in the old side, who was interred in a lead lined coffin – we hadn’t really registered that people were still being buried in this side, although there is very little space. The graves range from the very simple to the very elaborate, with a heavy emphasis on obelisk and angels (which we kept a careful eye on, and definitely didn’t blink). Our favourite on this side was George Wombwell’s, with a sculpture of a very friendly lion. He was a menagerist, with three travelling animal shows.

We found a shelter in Waterlow Park for our picnic – although it had stopped raining by then the ground was a bit too damp to sit on. I can highly recommend M&S’s Blackberry Gin Bramble, though I’m told their Cosmopolitan tasted like parma violets, and is not recommended. We offset the cocktails with the Crayfish and Mango salad.

Post lunch, we visited the East cemetery, where I made a pilgrimage to Douglas Adam’s very unassuming grave. No towels in evidence, but a whole flowerpot of biros. We loved the descriptions of people on their graves: scientists, poets, doctors, philosophers. Our very helpful volunteer popped up and pointed out the death mask of Bruce Reynolds, one of the great train robbers, and we found Malcom McLaren’s death mask later. We also found George Eliot, Jeremy Beadle, Karl Marx (hard to miss), Sheila Gish, Ann Jewson Crisp (who had a faithful dog, Emperor), Claudia Jones, and a whole lot of people called Martha.

The day was rounded off with a hot chocolate in a little cafe in Highgate Village – we earned it by walking up the rest of Highgate Hill! A cyclist passed us on the way up, huffing and puffing, and we were in serious awe of his stamina as that is one very steep hill. He also passed us on the way back down towards Highgate Station, freewheeling but still puffing. Highgate Village is an odd place that doesn’t feel like London – apart from the property prices.

On the way home I got to pull the emergency handle on the Central Line for the first time ever, as a man who had clearly had a few too many that afternoon was in a bad way and collapsed. We left him in the safe hands of the man at Debden Station and I hope he got home OK!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

I finished the second sock and they are large enough to allow for a bit of shrinkage – my laundry skills, like my cooking, can be a bit erratic at times. I love the way that the colourway on the sock yarn has reversed itself for the second sock, and there was enough left over (I hope) for a pair of Vappu socks.

You can also see that I have finished the D20 cross stitch and handed it over as a housewarming gift for a colleague, filled in April (range of 6-16 degrees for the month) on the Temperature Tree and just have the final ‘T’ to go on the Hairspray cross stitch pattern which is destined for a birthday gift. The final image is the Suffragette sash I made a few weeks ago, now in NI and in context!

This week has felt quite productive, all in all! And right now I had better go and whip up a flask of hot chocolate and get my swimming bag packed.

Same time next week!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading

Juniper Wiles – Charles de Lint

Museum of Desire – Jonathan Kellerman

Serpentine – Jonathan Kellerman

Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book – Brian Froud and Terry Jones

Death Set To Music (Inspector Pel) – Mark Hebden

The Lollipop Shoes – Joanne Harris (Audible)