Out in Bletchley; Skirrid; technomarvels

First off, must note that Ruth recently purchased this weird bookcase from John Lewis, one of those cunning pieces of book storage that makes it look as though your books are floating in mid-air. Not a look I’ve ever regarded as essential for my books, but Ruth enjoys these sorts of thing. The resulting appearance does seem to have taken her aback a little. More of a man bookcase??

Another work night (well, early part of the evening) out recently, this time at the Rose of India in Bletchley, apparently Hoa’s favourite MK curry house. My initial impressions of Bletchley as an abjectly dispiriting place haven’t been significantly altered by the few subsequent occasions I’ve visited it, and not on this one either. Matt had suggested the Enigma Tavern for a pre-dinner drink, a modern and none-too-salubrious looking establishment close to the bus station (the pub's website is a good deal smarter than the pub itself). I turned up there at around 6.45pm to discover him sitting vaguely nervously in a corner of the pub, well away from the only other clientele who were a cluster of locals standing around the bar. Apparently I’d just missed the “family from hell” – two drunkenly antagonistic parents who had just been shepherded off home by their circa eight-year-old daughter. We had a couple of drinks and then made our way with some difficulty (due to lack of adequate directions, rather than drunkenness) to the restaurant, where we joined six or so others from the office. Very nice food – I had a lamb dish, whose name I’ve forgotten, and a stuffed paratha – have got very into the latter. The restaurant is nothing much to look at from the outside and is in a pretty down-at-heel area, so just goes to show that’s not an indicator of the quality of the food. Well, perhaps sometimes it might be.

Worked through the Great British class calculator on the BBC website today to discover I’m apparently ‘Technical middle class’. A bit younger than the supposed average. Obviously I resent the suggestion that I faff around on Twitter of an evening rather than listening to French horn concertos.

The Skirrid (the hill, not the inn)

Spent a couple of days over the first half of the Bank Holiday weekend visiting my parents. Mum and Dad’s house was surrounded by a moderate amount of snow, though there wasn’t much in evidence until we were within a few miles of their house – they are evidently inhabiting some sort of microclimate. We lazed around for most of Friday, though Mum and Dad did go out for a brief stroll in the afternoon. Am afflicted by something of an energy dearth recently which I attribute to the low iron reserves with which I have recently been diagnosed, and am now munching a daily diet of iron supplements in order to correct. On the Saturday we went for a stroll around the nearby village of Llanvihangel Crucorney, largely to have a bit of a snoop from the outside at a house for sale there, and then more of a snoop at most of the other houses in the village, followed by a bit of a circular walk ending up back at the Skirrid Inn, where we had lunch.

The Skirrid Inn

The Skirrid is, apparently, reputed to be haunted – indeed, next to the table where we sat was a framed certificate from the South Gloucestershire Paranormal Investigation Team, certifying that the inn had successfully been investigated for the presence of paranormal activity and/or the presence of spirits. Disappointingly, it didn’t state whether any had actually been found. I’ve a feeling the Skirrid was featured on TV recently in one of those paranormal programmes that I don’t of course watch but happened on to accidentally while searching for the news. The TV crew appeared to be skulking about in the attics, so perhaps they’re the really haunted bit.

On the Saturday night we watched another out of Mum and Dad’s Hammer box set, this time One Million Years B.C. A clever choice given my continuing and increasingly irritating hearing loss, given that it’s the first film I’ve ever seen that contains no dialogue, merely ninety minutes of grunting noises and assorted posing and writhing. On the way back on Sunday we stopped off at Ruth's aunt's house for lunch, and to exclaim over the amount of weight her dog Bertie appears to have gained. Pet-themed talk continued when we collected the rabbits from Reading Rabbit Rescue and had a long chat with Sandra about Lola's health and Harley's recent boorish mounting behaviour.

Had originally planned to meet Ray for an energetic canal walk or similar on the Monday, but in the end that didn't come off, due to my reduced energy levels and his surprising new enthusiasm for technology - on turning up at the flat mid-morning he pulled out a brand new Galaxy S III and 7" Galaxy Tab 2, both in a fetching shade of red, and asked if we could go somewhere with wi-fi so that he could get set up. We duly whiled away an hour or so in John Lewis in CMK, before going on to the 3 Store so that he could sign up for a new MiFi deal - joking aside, the latter seems bloody marvellous, so much so that I've signed up for a similar deal myself. Back at the flat he managed to get online with it and watch an entire episode of Dr Who on iPlayer. What luxury. If this works out I shall consign T-Mobile and their sodding Fair Usage Allowance¹ to history.

Later on we watched three episodes of the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice, which I acquired on DVD recently in HMV's closing down sale and hadn't watched for a good while. It's very enjoyable viewing, though in my opinion the 2005 Joe Wright film is better cast, and I'm slightly hampered by never having fancied Colin Firth.

Put out an OU Noticeboard plea recently for information on Korean food stockists in Milton Keynes, in the hope of finding a local kimchi supply. Was somewhat surprised at the level of response and now have several recommendations, one of which, Hoo Hing, I followed up the other Sunday: enormous and freezing cold warehouse on an industrial estate - I spent quite a while wandering around looking for the refrigerated stuff, before realising that the whole shop was the refrigerator. Queued to pay for my goods behind three women dressed in coats and woolly hats - speculated that they'd put them on to come into the shop.

¹ T-Mobile's Fair Usage Policy allows you to stream approximately 30 seconds of video before telling you That's Quite Enough and to go and do something more constructive instead. I never was fond of the Why Don't You Gang.