Cocktails; fat cats; top security universities

The Hippobag was duly collected, having been well and truly filled with assorted rubble. How satisfying.

A group of us had a nice night out for Claire’s birthday on the 12th, starting off at Las Iguanas for cocktails. This may be one of the many areas in which I am probably a traitor to my sex, but I can’t really get excited about cocktails – sweet gunky drinks with random bits of fruit in them. Give me a glass of wine any day. I did try a margarita, and a couple of others whose names I’ve forgotten. Then we decamped for a nice dinner at La Tasca where Ali and I shared a decent bottle of Rioja.

Had booked last Thursday and Friday off as part of a plan to have a day out by myself somewhere before going on to my parents’ house to stay a few nights. In the over-optimistic assumption that spring must be well on the way, I had omitted to consult any weather forecasts so was surprised to receive an agitated phone call from my mother early on Thursday morning saying that there were severe weather warnings for their area. “Pah”, I thought sceptically, and set out – however, by the time I got into Gloucestershire and up onto Birdlip Hill, it was snowing quite heavily so, reluctantly, I considered it prudent to omit my planned visit to Painswick Rococo Garden and drive straight on to my destination, via a slight detour to Waitrose at Abergavenny where I managed to spend around £50, mainly out of annoyance. The country lanes that form the last part of the journey were indeed quite snowy by the time I reached them, so it was probably sensible not to have left it any later.

I was invited to assess whether Mum’s cat Lydia had lost any weight since I had seen her at Christmas, as she has apparently been on a strictly restricted eating regime, including low-fat Iams. She did indeed look marginally slimmer, so it would seem to be having some effect. Here she is lying on her back in appealing fashion. Think she was resting rather than simply beached.

On the Friday Mum and I took a trip out to The Weir Garden, a National Trust property near Hereford, in an attempt to view some snowdrops in the light of my aborted visit to Painswick. We had a pleasant walk around the 10-acre garden on the banks of the Wye. The Wikipedia piece on the garden mentions that notable birdlife can be viewed there depending on the time of year – I don’t think I spotted any though I wouldn’t recognise a goosander if one landed on my head. I did see a cute little wren when it briefly landed on the wall in front of where Mum and I were sitting.

On the Saturday, my parents and I ended up having a bit of a drive around Herefordshire, initially to seek out the church where my father’s great-grandparents got married. After some negotiating over directions we did eventually locate this, though couldn’t get inside as it was locked. Mum did go and knock on the door of the neighbouring cottage to ask if they had a key (they didn’t), while Dad and I hid round the side of the church in embarrassment. We then drove on to Newland and had lunch at The Ostrich, followed by a brief visit to the church over the road, apparently known as The Cathedral of the Forest (though its real name is the Church of All Saints). We then parked at the car park at Cannop Ponds and had a brief and chilly stroll along the side of the ponds before calling it a day. Shame as I’ve only been to the Forest of Dean once before and could have quite fancied a walk – but quite possibly it would be better later in the spring.

My Dad cooked a lovely curry in the evening, all the more impressive given that he had had to replace the diced lamb in the recipe with stewing steak.

Travelled to High Wycombe today to stand in for our Director at a meeting at Bucks New University. As there is no practical way to travel by train from Reading to HW, I made use of Arriva's excellent 800 bus service to Wycombe Bus Station via Shiplake, Henley and Marlow. Most of the hour-and-a-quarter route is a pleasant meander through country villages and affluent riverside towns (until one gets to Wycombe, where it all goes a bit downhill). And, at £6 for a return ticket, I feel I have saved my department money as well as saving the planet by not driving. Am currently bathed in glow of thrifty eco-smugness.

The meeting was held at Bucks' new Gateway building, which would appear to have security levels that would not disgrace the Ministry of Defence. I had received an email the day before confirming my attendance at the meeting, and informing me that on arrival I should sign in at reception where I would be issued with a visitors' badge (which I would be obliged to wear for the duration of my visit) and escorted to the meeting room by a university representative. This did indeed happen, although as I arrived early I asked the meeter-and-greeter if I could perhaps go somewhere for a cup of tea first - this flustered him somewhat but he did duly escort me to some sort of eating and drinking 'zone'. I had taken about two sips of my cup of tea before he reappeared to collect me, explaining that three other delegates had just arrived and it would be easiest if he took us all up together. I thought about asking "Can't I just make my own way up when I'm ready?", but thought better of it - I soon saw why as both the lift and the conference room door required swipe cards to operate them, resulting in a constant stream of people having to knock to get back in from the toilets. Although I'm all for sensible security precautions, this did all seem somewhat OTT.

I had thought about taking a photo of the Gateway building to illustrate this entry, but given the security levels I was a bit worried that this might result in my being taken out by a strategically-placed sniper. There's a picture here if you scroll down the page.

My ex-boyfriend Andy lived in Wycombe during the time we were together, so I spent quite a bit of time there in 1990-91. I never cared for the place, although my view was no doubt coloured by the succession of squalid shared houses that Andy lived in. In at least one of these, the kitchen was almost certainly dangerous to human health, so that we only ate microwaved food in Andy's room. I remember one cosy dinner for two being a microwaved roast-dinner-in-a-box eaten sitting side by side on Andy's bed. Simpler times ...

Wycombe also has one of those town centres where to get anywhere on foot you seem to keep having to go through dank concrete underpasses. It probably has its nice bits, though.