Ice; Christmas; Lush

Following swiftly on from the previous post: by Christmas Eve, the light shower of rain the night before had rendered the still-iced pavements lethal and almost impossible to walk on – the walk to the car hire company a few streets away took around 20 minutes of shuffling along clinging to hedges and railings. Surprisingly, I only fell over once, although I did eventually resort to walking in the road, figuring I’d take my chances with the traffic.

Late afternoon on Christmas Eve we went to visit Ruth’s late Uncle Mac’s grave, high up on the Berkshire Downs. On a clear day, there are apparently amazing views but even on a dull wintry afternoon it was an atmospheric spot.

Spent a pleasant Christmas Eve/Day with Ruth’s family at Ashbury, starting off with an early evening drink at the Rose & Crown. In somewhat slack fashion, Ruth and I spurned Midnight Mass in favour of returning to the house for a smoked trout supper and an early night. The house is a lovely old house but inadequately heated (at least for us namby-pamby centrally-heated townies), so I spent a fair amount of Christmas morning huddled near the drawing room fire in an effort to keep warm. To amuse myself, spent a while tinkering with the baby grand, although as it’s more than 20 years since I played the piano regularly, was only able to manage some rather inexpert scales. I took Grades 2 to 5 of the ABRSM exams while in school, but by the time I reached Grade 5 was becoming, in teenage fashion, half-hearted about the whole thing and dropped piano after my O-level Music exam (having Grade 5 in an instrument used to exempt one from one of the exam papers; don’t know whether this is still the case with GCSE – is there even a GCSE Music?). With hindsight, of course, wish I had kept it up, but such is the wisdom of age (or something similarly philosophical). Am contemplating whether I could potentially fit a piano into the house - jury’s currently out on that one.

To return to Christmas Day: for lunch, we feasted on a capon, which is some sort of big debauched chicken, and then retired to the drawing room for liqueurs and present-opening. Have very little experience of liqueurs, but elected to sample some Bénédictine as the name sounds so romantic. For the first few sips, thought something along the lines of “Dear God”. After that, found the drink strangely pleasant and warming.

On Boxing Day morning, drove to my brother’s house in Newport for the traditional family Boxing Day walk, and more food. The walk was a low-level stroll around the Newport Wetlands RSPB nature reserve, chosen in part to give my father a chance to spot any interesting specimens of birdlife. There were certainly plenty of birds hopping about tantalisingly in the distance, but am not sure whether any of them were uncommon species. Have a lazy attitude to birdwatching and tend to lose interest if a rare specimen does not obligingly flutter down and settle on a fencepost right next to me. After the walk, we returned to the house for Trivial Pursuit and turkey risotto.

On arriving at Reading Rabbit Rescue to collect the rabbits after their Christmas break, we found Sandra, one half of the devoted team, restraining Lola in a headlock while plucking clumps of fur out of her backside. She advised us that we really should groom Lola more at home and tried to demonstrate the correct method, while Ruth and I looked sceptical and I noted that Lola was by no means easy to handle. Sandra seemed faintly disbelieving and proceeded to murmur to Lola what a good-natured bunny she was. We thought we detected a flash of evil in what we could see of Lola’s eyes, plus a “don’t think you’re ever trying this at home” look.

Have briefly considered New Year resolutions this past week, but have concluded that it’s probably best not to set myself any unrealistic goals. Briefly discussed with Kate at lunch last Wednesday whether we might perhaps go to the gym more often in January, before concluding that we probably won’t and will probably meet up for a glass of wine instead.

Went for a pleasant albeit muddy walk with Ray on New Year’s Eve around Clayfield Copse and Dunsden (pictures here). We parked at the recreation ground on Caversham Park Road and strode enthusiastically into a sea of mud, but our spirits weren’t dampened too much. Clayfield Copse is a small nature reserve that used to be part of the Caversham Park estate. Part of the copse is apparently designated ancient woodland. It has a sculpture trail that includes this cute wooden owl. The Friends of Clayfield Copse apparently meet there once a month to do worthy conservation-type activities. We walked through the copse and skirted Blackhouse Wood to join Foxhill Lane and then cut across country to Dunsden, where we had a quick walk around the churchyard of All Saints church before heading back to Caversham.

The porch of All Saints featured a copy of the ‘Table of Kindred and Affinity’ (apparently the 1949 version of the one in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer) setting out which relatives you may not marry under the laws of the Church of England. Makes one wonder whether there had been a particular prevalence locally of folks keeping it in the family.

Later that evening, I decided to ease myself into the New Year with a relaxing bath and decided to use the Lush bath bomb that somebody had given me for Christmas. Have always avoided Lush primarily due to the overpoweringly fruity stench that emanates from its shops, but in the interests of gratitude (and of using it up) decided to make use of the gift. The resulting bathwater was bright green (see pic) and smelt overwhelmingly of Refreshers¹. Probably not an experience I’ll repeat.

We celebrated Ruth’s birthday on Sunday with a late breakfast with Gail and Rob followed by a leisurely meander into Oxford where we visited Blackwell’s Art Bookshop to buy a 2010 calendar and, quite inadvertently, two books on interior design, before going to Brown’s for a late lunch.

Although today was the grand ‘going back to work’ day for many of the country’s office workers, I had booked the day off in an attempt to ease myself back in. On a whim I went for a walk around the nearby riverside villages of Pangbourne and Whitchurch-on-Thames, an area I know reasonably as my aunt, uncle and cousins used to live there some years ago. Whitchurch is a lovely-looking village where I wouldn’t at all mind living, if only I had a lot more money than I actually have. It was a freezing cold day but the trees were frosted in picturesque fashion. After the walk, stopped for coffee and cake at Lou La Belle, a pleasant light and airy café.

¹ Not sure whether these sherbety fizzy sweets are still made – haven’t attempted to buy them in years.