New car; various outings; start of Adventures in Milton Keynes

Bit of a blog-free few weeks; I blame the new job.

Ruth and I took the train to Abergavenny on Sunday 22^nd to meet the 2007 Ford Fiesta that Dad had sourced for me from his local man Mervyn. Although I haven’t owned a car for a number of years, it dawned on me after a couple of visits to Milton Keynes that it might be an excellent idea to acquire one, despite the expense – the town appears unashamedly designed for the car driver and the train journey back to Reading is somewhat convoluted, that is once you get to the railway station which is on the opposite side of town from my new flat and well out of walking distance.

Drove the little car back to Reading on the Monday, where I have subsequently been putting it to good use. In preparation, Ruth and I had spent a couple of days at weekends recently in the garage, clearing out the junk that seems to creep into garages if cars are not kept in them. I have been getting ample practice at the awkward reverse turn into it but appear to have almost cracked it, though it’s made extremely challenging if as often happens there’s a car parked outside the garage opposite. At the moment the car is awkwardly pressed up against sacks of rabbit dung, and I think the garage door needs replacing sooner rather than later, but at least it has a home of sorts.

Met at Sarah’s flat in Winnersh for Book Group on 24^th, where we discussed Dawn French’s 'Dear Fatty' – or at least the others did, I had barely got 20 pages into it but I blame impending move, new job etc. Sarah was partway into a six-week temp job selling event space, which sounded frightful to me but seemed to be helping her fill in the time before her impending wedding. Lesley related an amusing story from a job interview she had had the previous week, where she had intended to say “fruits of my labours” but had accidentally substituted the word “loins”, which we agreed was not the best interview word.

Went to the Newbury Corn Exchange on the Thursday to see ‘The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church’, a 90-minute monologue performed without a break by Daniel Kitson, an odd nervy chap with a stammer and possibly borderline ASD. Enjoyed it on the whole as there were witty parts, though it did go on a bit. Kitson seemed severely distracted by any audience movement, laying into one audience member for checking texts on their mobile (admittedly hard to see why some people are incapable of turning them off even for an hour or so) and another for rustling a sweet packet. Ruth and I did at least manage to keep quiet, though I think I fidgeted for a lot of the time, partly due to the extreme lack of leg room and partly due to indigestion following the speed at which we had been forced to bolt down dinner thanks to Ruth’s having to work late.

Drove over to The Malt Shovel at Upper Lambourn on Saturday 28^th for a lunch for Mrs Millard’s 70^th birthday. Food was good; service was abysmal though that probably wasn’t the fault of the struggling teenage girl who seemed to be the only person in charge of us. Gail had ordered a cake and champagne to follow the meal, which did eventually manage to turn up following some behind-the-scenes prompting from her, and not at the same time.

Ruth and I drove up to Milton Keynes on both the Sunday and the Monday of the Spring Bank Holiday weekend to shift stuff. It is on record that on the Sunday I was brave enough to drive to IKEA where I bought a dining set and a cheap mini chest of drawers, which Ruth assembled for me despite commenting for some time afterwards about IKEA’s appallingness. Shamefully we lunched on McDonald’s two days running, which should serve as my quota for the next year or so.

Lunch at Blandford's

Had a team lunch at Blandford’s in Park House on the Wednesday for my impending departure, though our team numbers are pretty low these days. Blandford’s is the university’s attempt at a dead posh eaterie and I have to say the food was very nice, though perhaps rather over artfully presented. Ann made a nice speech about my professionalism and integrity, which sounded good.

As Friday 3^rd also, ironically, ended up being Ruth’s last day at CfBT, I went to join her and a few others for drinks at the Allied Arms after work, although her main ‘do’ had been on the Thursday lunchtime. Pleasant sunny evening in the pub garden but unfortunately it proved to be a stonker of a day for hay fever – Ruth’s friend Maia and I spent most of the evening sneezing and blowing our noses. The Allied, a small traditional pub in St Mary’s Butts, has a special association for Ruth and me as we had our first drink together there after the Fast Track Away Day in 2006. And gave Peter Crick the slip, or so we were told later.

Much of my last week at Progress South Central was also spent frantically clearing and cleaning my flat at Maiden Place, as Parkers had succeeded in finding another tenant for it but, most inconsiderately, they wanted to move in this week. Ruth and I spent Saturday clearing the final bits of stuff out of the place and moving back in the bits and pieces that I’d consigned to our attic for the duration of my tenancy. We were delayed by being unable to find the kettle that I know was there at the start of the tenancy but that appears to have vanished off the face of the earth – eventually, annoyingly, had to send Parkers a note to the effect that they’d have to dock me the cost of a kettle.

We chilled out in the evening by joining Ray on his boat for a pootle up the Thames towards Sonning where, most excitingly, we moored up to spend the night. We were intending to barbecue dinner but after Ray had had several unsuccessful attempts at lighting one, including building a small windbreak, we gave up and grilled stuff. It also turned a bit chilly during the course of the evening, meaning that Ruth and I had to beg a selection of fleeces and woolly socks. Ray always seems able to flit about in T-shirts and shorts in quite chilly weather, perhaps due to having worked outdoors since he was 16.

On the Sunday morning we chugged back up to the marina where we met the cygnets that were eggs in the last post. Then it was back to the house and cramming the rest of my essentials into the already long-suffering Fiesta for the drive up to Milton Keynes, which we did, unpacked after a fashion and then took a walk, in the rain, to The Plough, where we had burgers and a fair amount of wine. I dropped Ruth at the station on the Monday morning and returned to my new home where I sorted stuff out as far as possible.

One point to note about MK so far: although it seems designed to strike terror into walkers by the sheer distances, and number of concrete underpasses, involved, it seems an absolute dream to drive around. Was able to take one look at the map after I'd dropped Ruth at the station and drive back to my flat, which I don't think would have happened in any other town that I wasn't familiar with. The grid system certainly seems to simplify things once one works out how it works.

Am now officially on the payroll of The Open University (again) and have done two days. I have to say everyone seems very friendly and helpful; nice to be part of a bigger team again. Tonight I have been out with about 7 other members of the team to see Milton Keynes Amateur Operatic Society perform 'Footloose' at Stantonbury Campus, an enormous secondary school on the north side of the town - indeed it is apparently the largest school in the UK. I went more to appear friendly and up for things than because I was particularly enthused at the prospect of an amateur musical, but actually it was quite slick for an amateur production and better than I expected. Hadn't had much exposure to amateur operatics since a couple of productions Ray and I saw at the Kenton while we were living in Henley, both dire, in particular a production of 'Carousel' - HAODS seemed to suffer from the probably quite common problem of having insufficient numbers of younger men, with the result that the 'young' bucks high-kicking at the clambake were all of pensionable age. I remember, among attempts to stifle laughter, worrying about them putting their hips out.