Things I like about England

I've been promising myself lately that I would write down all the things I like about England, to balance out all the times I whinge about it (ummm, that would be quite a lot so I'm not sure that *balance* is exactly the right word...). Cause let's face it, here basic things are extortionately expensive, housing is tiny and poor quality, trains are appallingly overcrowded and inefficient, the economy is a complete mess, Network Rail, banking, pensions, land title, planning permissions, train ticketing systems are all convoluted and ineffective, nobody can make a decision, then there's the absolutely ridiculous obsession with celebrity, the complete lack of any safety awareness, the never-ending people, traffic, pork products and of course ... ok, you get the idea!

So here goes....

The beer
Real English ale, or bitter to the locals is hand-pulled from casks. It's a "live" beer which I think means that it's still fermenting, and so it's nothing like the John Smith or Newcastle Brown that you might find on tap in an "english pub" in oz. I seriously considered joining CAMRA at one stage - the Campaign for Real Ale. Yummmm

Boots
Boots is, believe it or not, a pharmacy chain that sells sandwiches. They have an absolute fantastic loyalty card that means you get really good deals on their products and buy 5 meal deals a month, get the 6th free. So every day I get my duck with hosein sauce wrap, Innocent fruit smoothie and peppermint nougat bar, all with the best energy/health labelling I've seen in recycled packaging. Perfect!

Parsnip crisps
They sell these at Boots too. Did you know that parsnips are native to Britain? No? I didn't either.

To be fair, England boasts a fabulously imaginative and tasty range of crisps (note - not chips - not only is crisp the correct word but I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about the chips here). But I'm not going to put crisps in general on the list because the whole idea of having a packet of crisps with your lunch .. every .. single .. day .. is just WRONG!!!

London
I need to caveat this one with the fact I've only ever visited, never lived there. But I love the place. More nationalities than in the UN building in Genève, so I feel right at home as just another foreigner. Always buzzing with atmosphere, but totally different atmospheres in different parts. And fabulous parks, particularly James Park. Not to mention the history and that whole monopoly board/Georgette Heyer novel feel :) Last time I stayed on Drury Lane, home of those wicked actresses who would kick their heels up on stage. Coooooollll

My friends
No explanation necessary.

Waterstones
My other favourite chain store, and this is going to be a surprise I know, is a book store. And what a book store. I can spend hours there. Add that it's not very expensive and you've got my store of occasional treats.

The scenery
It is undeniably pretty in quite a lot of this country, not least around my little Mossley.

The cold
Ok, there's no denying that generally British weather is absolutely crap. I'm told by some that we've had two particularly bad summers since I've been here (never above 20 degC, always grey and raining) but when I looked it up it turned out that we were right on average. But I do like the middle of winter. It's invigorating to be out in the freezing cold fresh air, and nice to dress up all snug and warm in gloves and scarf and beanie. When it's also nice and dry and clear, it's just like being on a ski holiday (a modern, post-global warming one that is that doesn't include actual snow).

The BBC website
I specifically mention the website only because a) my brief contacts with BBC television and radio have been utterly uninspiring and b) that has meant I still don't have a TV to judge more closely. But the news website is one of the best in the world, if not the best. Well laid out, informative, relatively unbiased, interesting, up to date, varied... you get the idea.

Rambling
Lovely walks through the English countryside, over stiles, past the sheep, around the Roman ruins.... tuck into a nice cosy little old pub with the fire blazing for a pint of real english ale...

Tracker mortgages
The one part of the financial system I've found that I think Australia really needs - tracker mortgages are where you sign up to an interest rate guaranteed to be a certain percentage above the Bank of England rate, in my case a tiny 0.35%. So I'm a big winner from the recent crisis, at least in that respect. Of course there's no way you'd get one now.

Accents
I still can't get over the sheer variety of accents in this country! It's amazing that they persist. Although does that mean that no-one travels? Not at all, at least when I look around my colleagues -they've mostly come from other places from all over the UK.

Shallow connection charging (transmission system only)
A part of my work - sort of complicated to explain, but seems efficient. Not as good as Italy ironically, but hey, this is probably just a comparison to Australia as the only other place I've ever lived and worked.

France for 2p in 2 hours
That is, 2p plus taxes, baggage fee, credit card fee, check-in fee. 2 hours on a plane plus 2 hours getting to the airport, an hour and half at the airport, waiting for the delayed flight....

Still. This is of course the best thing of all for me about England right now.

4 days on a plane

Well, since I was last here… I was there!



A few months ago I picked up a new role within SKM, that of Sustainability Practitioner. Now, I had no real idea what this meant but hey, it sounded cool and summer in the UK (I use that term lightly of course) is not a very busy time at work so I was looking for new challenges. I’d just like to point out that the fact the role meant a trip home to Australia had nothing to do with it!

After the intensive course in Sydney I caught a plane to Albury as my parents were serendipitously on the move from Tassie to Brisbane at that very time. Some time with Uncle Dud and Auntie Sheryl there then off to Barham to stay with Auntie Joan and Uncle Wayne, not to mention catching up with Uncle Alec, Auntie Joy and cousins Roger, Suzie, Vanessa, Sarah and Brad! Brunch barbie by the river Murray....

I offered to drive as we headed west into what seemed like the most glorious sunset I’d ever seen, but after the long flight and then the tough course I couldn’t keep my eyes open so Dad had to take over again. But I kept trying to wake up to watch the sun fill the horizon as far as the (open) eye could see.

And this is something you don’t get in England – horizons. Unless you’re standing on the coast and have somehow managed a day without cloud, you can never really see far enough into the distance to get to the point where the earth curves (about 50 km I believe) without hitting hills, towns, motorways etc. It’s not just the fact that the houses are one room wide that makes me feel a touch claustrophobic here sometimes.

Another thing that hit me was just how much colour and light there is in the world. Even on a clear day here there’s less light than on a cloudy day in Sydney. You’d virtually never need sunglasses for example. And colour! It was like living in a Ken Done picture. Especially once we got to Bateman’s Bay and all along up the coast to the Gong (catching up with cousin Ben) back to the airport.

It was my first time home in nearly 2 years, but in a way it felt like more than that. NSW is a lot closer to my home town of Brisbane in every way than Perth and we worked out that it had been 12 years since I was last in Barham, where I was born. If I wait another 12 years before I go back I’ll be 45. Hmmm. Anyway, I kept trying to put my finger on what exactly is that vague cultural difference between west and east in Australia, and also England and Australia. I decided that it wasn’t a coincidence that there are so many english who end up in Perth – the two places have quite a bit in common. It’s not that people in England aren’t friendly; they are, and I’ve come across lots of very lovely types. It’s just that they don’t often initiate contact, and I think maybe Perth was a bit like that too.

It was going through the Sydney airport that made me think this. Something amusing happened on the way through security, and the guy in front of me automatically turned round to share the joke. That happens only rarely here (unless of course I’m the one doing the sharing). Everyone keeps a bit more to themselves. I don’t know, just a thought.

Finally, within about, oh I don’t know, 2 seconds! of stepping off the plane my accent flopped straight back into broader ocker mate. It’s like my throat had been kept in a corset for the last 2 years and when I took it off it just sagged into its natural shape. Rico thought it was particularly amusing when I spoke French! The corset had to come straight back on though when I reached Heathrow and nobody could understand me. I speak noticeably slower these days too.

Since then life’s been pretty hectic. Rico and his mum came to visit and I was rather proud of myself for devising the ULTIMATE 3 day “faces of England” tour. The itinerary was:

 Walk around the beautiful Dovestone Reservoir in the northern Peak District
 Stroll through quaint old village followed by traditional english pub lunch
 Night time visit to the Blackpool Lights, Blackpool being the absolute king of tacky – imagine something like and English Gold Coast but just really, really dodgy. Masses of very drunken hen’s and buck’s parties in matching comical shirts/outfitis, rock candy in the shape of bacon and eggs, game parlours, sex shops, nightclubs, tourist shops everywhere amongst the more traditional fish and chips (no donkeys at night though). And down the main promenade about 5 miles of lit… um, things (shapes, pictures etc – done this year by the host of the UK’s equivalent of Changing Rooms, or something like that – the Brits lap up their minor celebrities).
 Next day, off to Chatsworth House, scene of the recent Keira Knightly movie the Duchess, gorgeous stately manor set in impeccable gardens with long history of tasteful art collection and entertaining royalty (a bit different to the night before!)
 Then Monday in modern Manchester, a thriving European city with a mix of old and new architecture and increasingly urbanite lifestyle.

Miraculously it was bright sunshine almost everywhere where we got out of the car (kindly lent for the occasion by neighbour Helen) and deadly flooding throughout the rest of the country (literally, about 5 people killed).

Since, then, busy busy. Had a trip to watch the Sale Sharks (rugby union) play a match courtesy of a colleague with season tickets. Brilliant seat, Rico and I were able to watch The Beast from France Chabal score a try right in front of us. Next week off to London for the week then up to Newcastle for a few days then back to London then….

Next time – update on the French lessons….

Mossley vs France

It feels like a long time since my last blog effort and that’s probably because, at long last, the utter lack of anything like a summer is starting to get me down. The endless grey skies, the way I've had to put the heavy winter doonah back on the bed, managed to feel humid and sweating but chilled at the same time....

Let's get this clear - I knew that I wasn't coming to England for the weather. But still, I kinda expected, you know... seaons? I wouldn't mind that there was never summer if we'd had a decent winter, "oh aye lassie, when I were a lad there'd be 2 feet o' snow on the main street of Mossley.... "

On my personalised google homepage I torment myself in this fashion… I should point at that this was captured at midday at the height of summer in Manchester, which is of course the middle of a winter’s night in Brisbane. sigh

So, what’s the cure for all of this? Go to France again of course!

I’d flown into Paris from Leeds and was flying back to Manchester from Perpignan. I’ve become a world export on arranging flights from England to France and back – there are always lots of choices. Ulrich met me in Paris and we went down to stay with his sister and her partner for a few days. They live in a converted farmhouse building near Bourges, about 2 hours south of Paris.

The house is in the middle of an organic farm, so lots of places to walk the dog, and even the cat!

The dam provided a welcome swim break.

Following are various other photos of the trip that ensued between Bourges and Perpignan. I seemed to have taken an awful lot of photos of blue sky! My apologies for the lack of accompanying text, but if you hover over the image a caption should appear.

Of course, the ostensible reason for this visit was again le Tour de France. This year I only went to one stage – the last time trial which ended up deciding the race. I promise I’ve been very sparse with my photos, considering our superb position just in front of the start ramp (I’ve got photos of just about every cyclist).

It was a fabulous day, very interesting. Just a shame that Cadel couldn’t win.

However, this post is actually entitled Mossley vs France, not just France. That’s because for a long time I’ve been thinking I should do a small exposé on my own little slice of English life. So here are a few random photos of Mossley, where I live. I would have taken photos of inside the house but that would require cleaning… I’ll try and add more occasionally.

This is my backdoor - or at least one of those doors down there is! I still struggle to consider a dwelling that is only one room wide as an actual house...

As you can see, I really don't have to worry about the back neighbours much. Well, they can be a little noisy at times if I'm sitting out on the patio.

Ok, this one deserves a bit more of an explanation! Have you ever seen the movie "Brass Off"? Well, if so then this is what it is all based on. Numerous local bands gather at various villages in the region and compete for the overall prize, which is a significant sum of money plus a trip to play at Albert Hall in London (for John Lennon fans, that would be the same Albert Hole that requires several holes for filling).

Here's the best bit though. After a big fancy march (ok, fancy's maybe pushing it a little bit) they all cluster around a tiny old fashioned caravan with the windows covered by blankets and start playing their hearts out. Within this mysterious focus of musical energy sit the judges - this is truly a blind competition!

Happy Olympics everyone.... go the Aussies! (ok, and this year I have to say allez la France as well)

Journey to Land's End

Just happens to have been the title of one my favourite childhood books, and that's exactly what we did a few weeks ago, but first…

I’ve just got back from doing the weekly shopping at my local co-op and was at first therefore a bit pressed to come up with this entry’s Good Thing to Say about England. How can they not have all the staples of a normal diet like coriander, pine nuts, artichoke hearts? Still, in all fairness, I’m sure the locals say the same thing when they move to Brisbane, wander around the local the Woolies searching in despair for dried mushy peas….

However, then I remembered the beer. There are definitely days when real english ale tops the list of things I like about England! (They also do very good cheese).

The month of May is blessed with two “bank holidays” (ie public holidays). These are no doubt tied in history to some religious and/or pagan events (May Day comes to mind) but these days they’re given the glamorous names of Early May Bank Holiday and Spring Bank Holiday. As Ulrich was going to be with me for the former, I hired a car and we set off down south.

The beautiful thing was that the weather leading up to this holiday had been miserable, the economy’s in the doldrums, fuel’s up to about £1.20/L (about AU$2.50) and so although I was expecting hordes of people, it really wasn’t too bad. The only traffic jams the whole time was to get around a horse fair on the way down and about an hour’s delay on the M5 coming home.

The first stop was the historic town of Rugby, historic of course because of that famous lad who got frustrated on the field and decided to pick up the ball and run with it instead. Well, it’s a little more complex as we learnt in the little Rugby museum. They’ve put a statue of William Web Ellis outside of his alma mater nonetheless.

And what a school! The grounds are enormous, the buildings imposing, the facilities extensive, and the girls (yes, they let girls go there too now) have to wear the ugliest uniforms you have ever seen in your life! Clearly therefore only for the wealthiest, most upper class citizens of this fine land. Needless to say, the football pitch was superb.

Next off was Oxford (I’d like to think of a witty pun about going from school to university here but it escapes me). This city is definitely worth a visit if for no other reason than it really does feel unusual. Guides books talk of the “rarefied air” of course, and I’m in no position to argue given that it clearly had an effect on us – we launched into such a series of in-depth philosophical discussions that I didn’t take any decent photos. Looking back, I should have taken a photo of all the bikes, seriously you could think you’re in Holland!

We then passed through the Cotswalds which is a collection of farming areas listed as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty and it certainly is although I’m not sure about the natural bit. I haven’t quite come round to the concept that the national parks over here have all sorts of human activities. However, it’s a very remote area – one lass told us that sometimes you can pass a house and not pass another one for 6 miles! As it’s not far from London, I’m again very glad to have gone there when we did and not at the height of summer which just would have been hell.

The next morning we were up early and into Cheltenham. Now, I’m sure this fine city has a illustrious history for many reasons, but the only thing I knew about it was that it holds the Cheltenham Gold Cup every year thanks to reading all those Dick Francis novels as a kid (there’s a bit of an english novel theme here, in half the places I fully expected Timmy the dog to come bounding out). So we headed straight for the racecourse, and in the early morning light it was superb. Those hurdles out on the course are not small – definitely taller than me anyway and awfully imposing as you walk up to them. Maybe they look a bit better from on top of a horse?

After a lovely roundabout route we met up with Emma and Gerard for lunch in Salisbury. A rather expensive lunch as it turned out when I got back to the car 15 after the parking ticket had expired....

Then it was off to the sea. We made it that night into Torquay, a luxurious seaside resort as you can see from the picture. They call themselves the English Riviera and the beaches were certainly about the same. Naturally it was imperative to have the fish and chips for dinner.

The next day we started meandering through either Dartmoor or Exmoor forest (I can never get them straight). A beautiful day with loads of walkers out enjoying the sunshine. We asked the GPS (I love my GPS) to talk us the shortest route rather than the fastest which was an interesting experience. With all the hedges fully recovered from winter, you didn’t always see much though (these guys had overcome that problem).

We continued on after lunch at a pub filled with sailors (not too surprising considering how close we were to the Plymouth naval base) until around Penzance and at last to Land’s End. As you approach it, you start seeing “The First and Last Pub”, “The First and Last Hotel” etc. (Funnily, it was only “The First School”). We were there with plenty of time to take a long stroll along the magnificent cliff face.

It was a great walk, but about the first 10 minutes were occupied with “do you smell…. coconut? I’m sure that’s coconut!". We eventually tracked it down to these innocuous looking guys.

And then the next day, around through the second national park and a beautiful coastal forest walk and then it was time to tackle the M5.

Manchester is "heaving"

As promised, I’m going to starting each new post with things I like about England (until I run out). Today – the way certain things are phrased:

[On the phone] You’re not here today, are you
That’s an astute observation
Oh aye, I’m sharp, me

[eg] She was so happy with her present
Oh bless

[eg] I don’t like cheese
Do you not?

And “it’s going off!” translates in English to “it’s heaving” (hence the title of this post)

I have been gearing up to blog about our trip through the south west with photos and the full travelogue. But that’s still coming - in the meantime I had to describe the scene in Manchester today.

As soon as I got off the train this morning I realised something was up (oh aye, I’m sharp me). That’s going to tell you that I still haven’t really been following the football. For today the UEFA cup final is being held in Manchester between the Glasgow Rangers and Zenit St Petersburg.

Now, I still haven’t got my head all the way round all the different competitions (eg I know that Manchester United is playing Chelsea next Wednesday in Moscow in the Champions League final – go figure). What I do know is that there are 100,000 Scots currently roaming the streets in full footy regalia (and aren’t I happy that today I wore the blue jacket?)! I haven’t been able to quite make out the chants but I’ve since had them explained and I don’t think I’ll repeat any here. The basic theme is anti IRA, anti Pope.

You see, the Rangers are the protestant football team of Glasgow. Phil the doorman gave me a lecture this morning the Battle of Boyne, James I, William of Orange etc after I asked why a whole lot of clearly scottish lads were wondering around town draped in a union jack emblazoned with a lovely picture of Queen Liz.

Some of the highlights so far:

• There are masses of plane spotters out at the airport being delighted by dozens of antique Russian aircraft coming in
• A public golf course was opened up for the fans to camp on
• The pubs opened at 10am this morning and have been doing a brisk trade (not unexpected)
• Some of the more enterprising local buskers are sporting rangers’ scarves
• Both cops and horses are in riot gear (which for the horses means plastic visors)
• One guy said he’d paid £7k for 7 tickets
• The air on this clear crisp late spring day is filled with marijuana
• Apparently there was a 7 mile hold up on the motorway this morning
• I can hear the crowd from the 5th floor of my office tucked away in a back street
• There was a Carlsberg TANKER spied in the streets this morning and I'm sure not the only one
• Sainsburys cleared their shelves of all bottled alcohol - cans and plastic wine containers only
• As I write there is a series of 3 a side matches taking place in Castlefield near the canals
• A massive game of "keepsies upsies" was going on in the square this morning (where you have to keep the ball off the ground)
• The Russians apparently have their own screen but with only about 10,000 of them, I imagine they'll be swamped.

This is one of the local pubs.

So tonight I’m going to stick around for a while, at least unless it looks like the rangers are going down!

Happy St George's Day

Or so I'm told - it's not a holiday alas.

"This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England."

William Shakespeare, "King Richard II", Act 2 scene 1

(Thanks Pete)

Things I love about England - there are no cockroaches! Well, I haven't seen any anyway and that's good enough for me.

There are no doubt many other things I love about England too but the things I don't like tend to roll off the tongue a bit more readily (I always say that the stereotypical whinging pom has nothing on this whinging aussie). So I dedicate this St George's day to thinking long and hard about everything I like here.

I will probably do that when I'm on my treadmill in that early period before I get too out of breath to think about anything other than not falling off. I've been a bit busy trying to finish a very long and boring report (that's what I'm doing right now, not writing this blog at all, oh no no no). After I've finished this very long and not very interesting report, which comes hot on the heels of another long report, and I'm going to write a short magazine article then a mid-length conference paper - my first. This could well result in a trip to Frankfurt to present said conference paper, here's hoping anyway. April's been a strange month so far, I've had at least one whole week in the office every day and trips only to Newcastle and London, not out of the country at all. Don't worry, I will fix that in May with a trip to sunny Nice at least.

Finally in this post of utterly random thoughts I thought I'd give an update on my technology progress. So far my list of household appliances includes:

• rice cooker
• treadmill
• kettle
• mini fridge
• mini toaster oven
• stove/oven
• washing machine
• ironing board and iron (mum bought that)

but does not include:

• TV
• proper size fridge
• dishwasher
• dryer

and all the other unnecessary luxuries of life. I've now been without a TV for over a year and I can safely report that I do not miss it at all (plus I don't have to pay the £200 or whatever a year for a "TV licence"). Of course, if I didn't have the internet/my laptop it could be a whole different story.

all sorts of things

Two weeks ago, I wandered across the road to the pub, got my pint and settled in to watch the running of the famous Grand National. Fortunately before I got too settled someone pointed out that there's a bookies just down the road, so I went and put on what turned out to be a winning bet.

All I can say is what absolute carnage!!! An unusual year apparently, neither horse nor man was put down. But the number of falls was absolutely incredible. One thing's for sure, made the 2 miles around Flemington look like a tame walk in the park. For quite a significnat part of the race at least half the field was made up of riderless horses. Eventually they got wise and realised there were ways around those gigantic fences and headed off on their own somewhere else.

Oh and the winner - how could I go past a horse with the name "Comply or Die"?

Rico joined me this week and on Saturday we went into the the science and technology museaum to see Body World. I can safely say I've never seen anything even remotely resembling this exhibition. Real human bodies that are stripped of skin and fat and plasticised sort of to make them last. Then put in all sorts of weird configuration. For example, one (real) body, separated into three (eg one with bones and organs, one with muscles, one with blood vessels) joined at the complete foot and playing badmington with itself. Or the relay runner, whose skeleton hands the baton over to the muscles version of itself.

Check out some photos here. http://www.bodyworlds.com/en/media/picture_database/thumbnails.html?category=14
and more here http://www.bbc.co.uk/manchester/content/articles/2008/01/02/220208_bodyworlds_interview_feature.shtml

I imagine certain bits of the exhibition were a little disturbing for the blokes too.

If you got bored of the complete specimens, you could see all the bits of pieces, healthy and not separately. I now know exactly what an advanced case of arthritis looks like for example. Or the complete body that had been cut into about 100 slices all hanging suspended together like those perpetual motion office desk toys.

It's hard to describe the effect. The most disturbing thing was that at one stage I was definitely getting hungry!

On the science theme, I noticed both that Saturday and Sunday travelling to and from Liverpool airport that there was an absolute plague of identical twins.

Easter in Wales

I’m writing this in the afterglow of having been soooo good, spending 35 hard minutes on the treadmill whilst learning French (this of course *technically happens every night after work). I’m happy to report that the treadmill is now in its appointed position down in the cellar, which has just enough head height to allow me to get it up to the full 18 degree incline (key criteria when I was house-hunting btw). This took a little while to achieve, on account of a) the treadmill is about 2 m long, over 1 m wide and weighs a whopping 100 kg, b) when released from the packing material (mistake) and its own weight, the hydraulic incline arms are impossible to keep closed, c) the fact that the stairs down to the cellar are not of the dimensions one would wish for when contemplating shifting something that size and d) the delivery guys were already a little peeved by the time they turned up at my place after having first tried to deliver it to work, much to the utter horror of the office manager and the amusement of my colleagues. So it sat in the kitchen for quite some time.



The plan was to have it operational in time to get super fit before I went skiing in France. Well that didn’t quite happen. The next plan was to get super fit for easter, and that also didn’t happen and this time it mattered!

This year Emma and Gerard kindly invited me to join them over the easter long weekend at the Brecon (pronounced breckon) Beacon National Park in south Wales. The original plan involved camping but a quick look at the weather forecast for this very early easter quickly put paid to that idea. The general plan was to do a fair bit of outdoorsy stuff and the plan allowed for a bit of rain, but not full on blizzards! The first afternoon we set off on a small 7 km hike up one of the main peaks. We start off with a little bit of rain, and gradually this becomes a little more like sleet, and then it’s what I’ve learnt to call “snow grains”. At this point, there was a bit of discussion about whether it was real snow, or just weird hail, however that question was well and truly resolved by the time we reached the top! This photo of Em and me is after the climb. The hill had been green (ish) when we set off!

That was a pattern that was to repeat itself for each of the three hikes – no snow, we arrive, snow. Of course, on the second day that was after the wind …

The wind was absolutely incredibly. Here’s Gerard showing how far he can lean into it, and the photo doesn’t really do justice. At one point, about halfway round the 18 km loop after battling it almost full on I realised that I could turn my back and virtually sit down into the wind and relax.

There was still a way to go to the top, which consisted of a couple of peaks (and before that a lot of false peaks where you thought you’d made it until you wiped the snow out of your eyes and saw the next one) joined by a cliff towering over a valley formed from glaciers just like this one. The landscape was amazing; when you stood at the top you could see exactly where all the glaciers had been.

Well off the ridge and down into the lovely valley full of sheep and all their little early spring lambs and it was quite a different story. This was nice snow! A very pleasant end to the day.

The next day those mad over-energetic two went for a ridiculously long and hard mountain bike ride while I eased my aching legs into the car and headed to Hay-on-Wye, famous for, wait for it – second hand book shops. Now was there any doubt whatsoever that I was going to be there at some stage? The only surprise is the level to which I restrained myself in this little slice of Welsh heaven! (btw, there are actually people there who speak Welsh, it’s not just a set of random road signs designed to confuse you). And there was even a fudge shop! That evening I curled up with a book and an ale in front of the fire near the bar waiting for the rather exhausted pair (at least half of the pair) to get home from their huge journey.

The final clamber up the hill on the last day’s 13 km quick walk was, ummm… interesting. As Em said, probably best we couldn’t see what was ahead of us! And then these absolute nutters come flying – downhill – down this icy path dressed in virtually nothing (at least relatively to me, I lost count of my layers and I was still freezing)!! Turns out they were “fell running”, which is a sport that seems to combine the need for incredible fitness and immunity to cold with a certain level of sheer insanity.

Past the most exposed part of one of the ridges, with the sun shining again (waves of what I can only term “weather” were rolling over us endlessly) and with fingers once again attached to hands I managed to look reasonably happy here I think!

That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy the rest of it. It’s hard to explain the sheer joy of finding ourselves so very far away from anyone else. I was very glad of the weather because otherwise I think the place would have been packed with hikers. It was also great to just be outside. Perhaps the only bit I didn’t like much was the stop for lunch on the ridge. Some kindly (and knowing) folk had built up a cairn in a circle, over a metre tall which you could climb down into out of (sort of) the wind. No photos as I was genuinely frozen in that time. My cheapskate jacket is quite warm but not breathable and I found out later that it was saturated inside. I was therefore still shivering all the long way back to Mossely. But very glad I’d made the effort.

Earthquake

I just experienced my first earthquake. I'd woken up in the middle of the night a bit warm, so I turned the radiator down. As soon as I'd done that, the whole house started to shake, but not for the normal cause (ie a train). I thought I'd done something catastrophic with the hot water for a moment, but then worked out what had happened.

Not my imagination according to the BBC.... http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7266136.stm

Sunshine, snow, great company and the food....

Home from another glorious trip to France, remembering the feel of the sun….

Ulrich and I stayed a week with his parents in Villeneuve d’Olmes, a little village near Lavelanet (so about an hour south of Toulouse) at the base of the Pyrenees. That latter point is most relevant because I got in a couple of days skiing at the small stations which are only an hour’s drive away from the house of Nicole and Serge.

And while skiing is itself always of interest, particularly when it’s been a few years since I last hit the slopes, this time it took on special importance as the only means I had of even beginning to start working through the food that Nicole was feeding me! Upon learning that I would be coming for a week, she set about creating a menu that would include all of the local Ariège delicacies. Oh la la! Strictly bread and water for me for the next month I think!!!

Here’s a sample of what I ate (from what we could all remember). You will note that there are considerably more dishes than days – it was lunch, entrees (before lunch and dinner sometimes), dinner and desert. Just a foodie's paradise :)

• Escargots dans d’ail, beurre et persil (snails with garlic, butter and parsley) - think of it as some sort of seafood and everything's fine. Plus of course, drown anything in butter and garlic and it's delicious.

• Boudin aux raisins (pig’s blood sausage and raisins) - now this was the biggest surprise. I definitely didn't think I would like this, but I did. Couldn't have eaten too much of it though.

• Foie gras (foie gras), I've had this a few times now, not bad with a bit of pepper (but again, really not too much at once).

• Jambon de sanglier (various cured meats, some ok, some too much blood and fat)

• Chèvres chaud avec oignons confit au miel (hot goat’s cheese on toast with onion with honey confit) - quite sweet and totally yummy

• Soupe tapioca (tapioca soup) - I'd always wondered what tapioca was and now I know

• Pates au saumon (salmon pasta) - literally, loads of yummy little salmon bits
• Ham and cheese sandwich for skiing (small! simple! welcome!)
• Salade de pates pour skiing (ham and cheese pasta - a Rico special :))

• Lapin purée (rabbit)

• Quiche poireaux saumon (quiche with leek and salmon) - now also known as "Hercule". As I was trying to learn/remember the word for this vegetable, I thought everyone was talking about the famous detective.

• Cotes de porc à la moutarde avec haricots verts (side of pork with mustard and shallots) - it was by about this point that I had exhausted my French superative vocab for describing the food!

• Pot au feu (beef in vegetables stew) - are there secret shops in England where I can get ingrediants this tasty?

• Fondue bourguignonne (beef) - it's a meal! and entertainment too!

• Langue de bœuf (tongue of beef with tomato and gherkin puree) - perhaps the only thing that I didn't really like at all, although the sauce was delicious

• Crêpes champignon épinards (mushroom and spinich crepes) - mmmm, I luurvvve crepes

• Truites aux amandes avec riz fondant de poireaux (trout with almonds with rice and fried leeks) - there's definintely a skill to deboning the trout. A little more time watching everyone else first and less diving straight in here would have been a good idea! Oh, but those crunchy almond bits on the melting flesh with those leeks... heaven

• Magrets de canard poire et pommes de terre à la graisse de canard (duck’s breast with pears and potoatoes in duck dripping) - there was some debate about whether magrets de canard poire wasn't better as canard peach or pineapple. I'm more than willing to sample the other two at some point so I can also give my opinion ;)

• Gigot avec oignons caramélises (leg of lamb with caramelised onions) - this is where things really started to go downhill, I really did not have space for all those extra slices.

• Poulet au four (roast chicken) - simple and delicious

• Gâteaux charlotte à l’ananas (cake with pinapple, cream etc)

• Biscuit de Savoie et mousse au chocolat (cake)

• Génoise de fruits (renverse) (upside down fruit sponge cake)

• Glace menthe

• Les fromages (cheeses) included bleu d’auvergne, roquefort, brie, camembert, gouda, comte, motin charretin, edam, buche de chèvre, cancoillotte - for me, the stronger the better. Roquefort, where have you been all my life ???

• Cerises à l’eau de vie, cognac armagnac, and about a dozen other types of apertif and digestif (spirits and whatnot, really, really, really strong drinks taken in small doses to whet the apetite (beofre) and help digestion (after), at least in theory (a good theory, worth testing over and over I think!)

• Vin Bourgogne Macon 2000, Bordeaux (Graves 95), Mercurey 98, Champagne Millésime Beaune 82, Marc de Champagne, Calvados 1952, Gewurtztraminer Riesling and much more wine, an appropriate wine to go with each entrée or dinner

• Erdinger beer

• Vraiment juste un peu de chocolat (honest!)

So now the really sad news. Of all the bloody things that France could decide to give in to the EU on (and believe me, there are plenty of things that they haven’t given in on, particularly in my line of work), they’ve apparently agreed to stop producing unpasteurised cheese. Goddamn Louis and his methods. Because I’ve grown awfully fond of French cheese!

Less so the wines, for that I’m still favouring the Spanish Rioja variety (pronounced ree ocka). I tend to find the French wines just a trifle bland for me, although maybe I just haven’t found the right variety. There were lots of lovely ones, including the 1982 variety opened especially on my last night (also the night before both Nicole and Serge’s b’days).

I’m led to believe that I should head towards the north eastern regions to discover the really good French beers. Of course, the more you head north east in France, the more you head towards Germany and Belgium so that might be a small factor.

I didn’t have any Crazy Elephant though. Andorra’s an interesting place – magic wonderland in the mountains, lovely buildings, and existing completely and utterly for people to go there and buy duty free goods.

However, I’m back at home in Mossley on my own, and so as I made my way from the Liverpool airport (I might have mentioned that I’m becoming the world expert in cheap travel between any part of France and any part of England), I stopped off at the co-op for some 2 for £3 ravioli and a bag of spinach (to make it healthy you see). A dribble of olive oil, some cracked black pepper and you’re dining fine at chez moi...