Anyone fancy a cuppa?

Thursday, January 23rd, 2014

I love flavoured tea. Look, this is my tea cupboard, filled to the rafters with Twinings specialities (or maybe that should be special-teas).

I've got Cranberry and Blood Orange (for when I'm feeling a little vampiric), Summer Berries, Mango and Cinnamon, Mango and Strawberry (any food or drink with strawberry in gets bought by me), Blackcurrant and Vanilla, even Strawberry and Raspberry (told you).

There are a few others tucked to the sides and on top too, squirreled away for a rainy day. I can't be without my Clippers "sleepy tea" either, stuffed as it is with valerian to help me sleep at night. Only trouble is, that tea is very powerful and I take about half a day to wake up properly from its after-effects next day.

There's also my little ceramic bowl of "hotel teas", sealed teabags taken from hotels I stay in. They're not usually very exciting or flavoursome - just your average breakfast or Tetley tea - but they're free so why shouldn't I take them away?

Always does me when I don't fancy a strawberry flavoured tea (this very rarely happens).

My first ever shelfie

Monday, January 20th, 2014

If you think you've seen something odd, you probably have

Never has one man been so proud of a set of new bookshelves. Well, that's probably not true, but it's close.
Over the weekend I helped my Dad (for "helped", read "watched and sometimes helped") put together the new Ikea shelves which had been lying dormant and untouched in a pile of boxes behind my sofa since before Christmas.
The shelves have transformed my front room. Beautiful floor to (almost) ceiling structures which house all of the books which were on the shelves previously, plus more (you will notice some empty shelves. Well, I need to get some more books out of storage to fill the space, it's not staying like that!).
The organisation and layout of the shelves is a work in progress but the basic fact remains - they look great. Or at least they do in comparison to what we had before, and sadly I didn't think to take a "before" pic to demonstrate. But trust me, these are better.
I never want to go out now, because I keep admiring my bookshelves, rearranging them or thinking of ideas for what to put on them. Sad, I know, but we're all bewitched by the mundane from time to time.
I'm sure it'll wear off...

EDIT: Some readers have expressed confusion over exactly whose shelves these are. They are mine, my Dad put them together in my house for me. And I watched.

Back to school

Thursday, January 9th, 2014

My new church

New year, new start, so they say, and it certainly has been for me.
I was signed off work for four weeks during December, a little longer than I could have anticipated, but you have to do what the doctor thinks best. And I am glad I did.
But it gave me lots of thinking time; time - as my doctor put it - to "reconnect" with myself. And it was during this time that I decided I wanted to do a college course, get back into learning again after 16 years out of academia.
I wouldn't say I was ever a keen learner. I enjoyed school, less so college, and even less so again university, but the reasons behind that are complex and not for here and now.
So I was quite pleased to leave university and enter into gainful (and well-earned) employment at the age of 21. But all these years later I feel it is time to start learning again, and learn something new. I've never wanted to go back into education before now, but I have come to realise that it is a mystery why we stop actively educating ourselves at 18 or 21 - why should education be reserved for the young (it's kind of wasted on them!).
Anyway, I signed up for my course on Monday lunchtime, and the first session was last night, so it was a quick turnaround.
I won't pretend that I wasn't impossibly nervous. It's quite scary going into an academic environment when you're not used to it, surrounded by spotty youths who you can't really relate to (or they you). I did wonder whether I was doing the right thing, whether the course would be full of 17-year-olds and I'd be the oldest there, old enough to be their father (god, that's depressing beyond words).
But it was OK, you know. I always say that nothing is as bad as the fear of it, and it's true. There were 15 people on the course, all sitting in a semi-circle in a room and all complete strangers. We were all in the same boat, although some were more confident in the environment than others.

Workbook and learning journal

After three hours we all felt much more relaxed, both with the course and each other, and there are nine more weeks to go yet. I have my "learning journal" (nowadays you have to write about your learning experiences, as well as about the topic itself!) and my workbook.
I have no idea whether this is the right course for me, but so far it feels like it can be. It's something new, different, refreshing and challenging, all things I need in my life right now.
As I said last time, 2014 is going to be a very good year, and this is the first step in a long but important journey.
I almost never went through with this course, almost talked myself out of it, almost never got out of the car before going in. But I found I was not alone, and making a journey with others is the best type of travel there is.

Tinsel in the sunshine

Friday, December 27th, 2013

Cake before incision

And there it was, Christmas. Did you enjoy it? Did it meet all of your wild expectations? Did it do everything it said on the tin? Well, mine was enjoyably quiet, spent with Gareth's parents, who - surprisingly - didn't try to feed me one single cream cake. Pork pies, though, were a very different matter. I don't think I ever want to see another pork pie until, well... at least January 1st.
I am no particular fan of Christmas; I really do think that, unless you're a churchgoer and celebrate Christmas for its proper religious traditions, it's very much a time for children, or to be a child. If you're a parent or grandparent and can spend Christmas Day with a child, it must be magical. But otherwise, for your average adult, it's just a time to be with friends and family, drink and eat and be off work. And that'll do me.
The lead-in to Christmas is far better than the day itself, and certainly better than the aftermath. I prefer the expectation of Christmas Eve, when the presents are wrapped and under the tree and the excitement of the next day is yet to come.
And the worst day is Boxing Day, when the house is upside down and the last thing you feel like doing is tidying the house or washing or cleaning or hoovering or anything remotely approaching strenuous.

Tinsel in the sunshine. Yuk!

And what I hate most of all is tinsel in the sunshine. Christmas should be strictly a night-time thing, with colourful lights and candles and shiny decorations twinkling in the twilight. Tinsel in the winter sun just depresses me, for some reason.
It wasn't actually until today that we got round to breaking open the Christmas cake my mum had baked us. My mum's Christmas cakes are always delicious - and alcoholic - affairs, and this one was no exception. I can't eat too much rich food, so this time of year is particularly difficult with all of its mince pies and puddings, but my mum's cake is always light, and this year is laced with all manner of spirits, as well as boasting a rather lovely double layer of icing, with marzipan sandwiched between.
Next up, New Year. I much prefer New Year, it is a time to celebrate the good things of the previous twelve months and look forward and make plans for the next twelve. The year 2013 won't go down in my own personal timeline as a classic, but I can feel in my bones that 2014 is going to be a year of real change, for the better. January will bring a turning point in my life (the exact nature of which I look forward to discovering), and February has a massive and important event too, which I am looking forward to immensely.
And beyond that? Who knows... But I do know that it's going to be a good one.

Cake post-incision. Loving the double layer of icing

Photo-set: Happy (miniature) Christmas!

Thursday, December 19th, 2013

I visited my parents last week and they had this amazing festive diorama laid out on the front room sideboard which took my dad ages to set up. He sculpted the snowy base from polystyrene and painted it, then populated this winter wonderland with ornaments and models and buildings he'd bought from a shop.
It's one of those lovely alpine set-ups, complete with illuminated shops and even a "roaring" fire around which children sing carols and warm their hands while roasting chestnuts. It all looked amazing in the dark, the sort of place you wish you could be transported to for a proper, snowy, traditional Christmas (rather than the gale-force hell we tend to get in the UK).
I took a few pictures of the diorama and wished I could transform into a Borrower and explore it on foot. But while I might feel small much of the time, I'll never be small enough to properly take a look around my parents' winter wonderland.
Merry Christmas!

Here's the alpine wonderland in the cold light of day

My dad's Nativity, also designed himself. He's retired, he can do things like this...

My mum's startlingly blue Christmas tree. Yes, it's a bit lop-sided, but I didn't like to say.

Yes, really, it is a Christmas stationery shop

Father Christmas feeding Rudolph with something probably far too rich for his diet

Slightly moodier pic from the side. They need more street lighting over there,
someone could get mugged.

History: Past, Present and Future

Thursday, December 12th, 2013

Look at these beauties! Two elegant 1920s-style statues which I saw in an antiques warehouse recently. They're not as heavy or solid as they look, but they still look amazing and simply ooze style. I wish I had the money to buy them!
I love looking around antiques shops, it is one way to connect with the past which almost puts you there, rather than reading about it in a book or watching it re-enacted on TV. I love to wonder about the previous owners of these items, who they were and what they did and where they had them in the house, and most saddening of all, how these items came to be in the possession of an antiques dealer.
I have bought a couple of items from antiques dealers over the years - nothing too expensive, just stuff I liked - but I'd love to be able to buy more, and have the space to put it all in! I love having the past around me while living in the present and looking to the future. It's very grounding.

He looks arrogant, but undeniably elegant

Nobody should be without a wooden statue of a bear
wielding serving trays in the shape of leaves and shells

She's got quite a glare on her, this one

Aw, bless her... The Virgin Mary clutching her price tag.
Or maybe she's praying somebody will buy her?

Can't decided whether this looks 1920s or 1980s. Big shoulder pads,
 shades, severe hairstyle. Is it Magenta Devine?

I'm glad the model on top is a lady because
 that vase looks decidedly phallic

Reflections of the way life used to be, as a certain Motown diva once sang

A love letter to Conwy

Tuesday, December 10th, 2013

Conwy Castle and Guild Hall (including disco lens flare)

I took a leisurely walk around the historic town of Conwy this morning, a place that has politely dipped in and out of my life for the last 16 years now.
I first encountered it in the summer of 1997 when I came for a job interview, after which I crossed the road bridge between Llandudno Junction and Conwy to explore. It was a very hot July day and I had a good vibe about how the interview went (in the event, it went very well and I got the job, but 16 years later that's not necessarily a bonus any more!).
At the quayside was a permanently moored tallship with a restaurant and bar aboard. This, to me, was beyond cool, and I remember enjoying a cooling pint on the deck of the ship overlooking the estuary. I also remember thinking: "Yes, this would be an amazing place to work."
I was right, at least for a time. Within weeks I was the local newspaper reporter for Conwy town and I was revelling in it. One coarse but appropriate phrase I learnt recently fits the bill - my arse was in butter!
I was doing what I had always wanted to do (journalism) in a town that simply oozed history and character and charm and grandeur. I went to all the evening council meetings, met all the councillors and shopkeepers and newsagents and gossips and police officers and barmen, and completely immersed myself in the town's daily life and culture. I even went along to Conwy Folk Club one evening. Never again, mind.
I remember fondly walking along Castle Street as dusk fell one summer's evening and being stopped by a couple of American tourists who seemed flabbergasted by the castle and the amount of history the town was steeped in.
"That castle is awesome!" said the husband, his arm expansively taking in the turrets and towers. "You're so lucky to have this on your doorstep!"
I should have agreed, but instead I mischievously said: "Oh that old thing. It's got into such a dilapidated state now that the council is thinking of knocking it down. We've got plenty of castles to go round in Britain."
The look on the American's face was a picture of horror and disbelief. Don't worry, I did put him right before I continued on my way.
My time as a cub reporter in Conwy only lasted a year or so before I was "promoted" to cover the much larger and troubled Bay of Colwyn as chief reporter, but I have never forgotten Conwy and its people.
But walking around the town today, mingling with tourists and locals alike, I no longer felt "at home" there. It's not that Conwy has changed all that much, but rather that I think I have moved on. And in many ways that is a good thing, and I want to move on even more.
But the charm of Conwy will never diminish. The castle is beautiful in its dereliction, and the quayside throbs with the rhythms of its fishing heritage, whether it be the seagulls or the musselmen or the amazing collection of lobster pots and nets or the forest of boat masts.

Fishing nets and pots on Conwy Quay (in retro sepia)

Devouring a hot sausage and egg bap on the quayside, I might have felt slightly threatened by the circling, vulture-like seagulls, but I was reassured by the stunning vista stretching across the estuary toward Llandudno and Deganwy, a sight that could not fail to mute any hardship.
And I bloody well miss that tallship.

Conwy town and estuary from Llandudno Junction side

Conwy estuary looking toward Deganwy and Llandudno

A lost knight