Festival of Spirit; quiche; London delights

On the last Saturday in July took myself to the annual Peace in the Park ‘Festival of Spirit’ event held at the Global Retreat Centre, as I’d never been. As with all the GRC’s events, it’s free to attend, something I have wondered about previously. In true loving the planet and the all-seeing supreme consciousness fashion, I took the bus from Caversham to Nuneham Courtenay (about a 50-minute journey) and walked the mile up the drive of Nuneham Park to the house. The event was all very feel-good and I enjoyed a pleasant few hours, though didn’t stay beyond mid-afternoon. Going to one of the GRC's events is worth it just to get access to the lovely grounds, quite aside from anything that might be laid on, so I spent much of the time just wandering around, including doing the Tree Trail. Went to Cello in the Chapel and a guided meditation in the Higher Power Pavilion. Decided against a session with the Emergency Optimist as was put off by the queue; she was evidently striking a chord with people in need of a shot of optimism. Briefly considered some Self-Mastery Cards.

I was presented with a couple of leaflets during the course of the day, one about veganism, given out with my lunch by the caterers Veggies and one about the Compassionate Revolution. Never had any inclinations towards veganism (partly through laziness at what must be the sheer effort involved, plus probably accepting never eating out in a restaurant again, plus liking meat – the last one’s probably the deal-breaker); probably should engage with the CR but not honestly sure I will. Veggies would have more chance of converting people if they made their veggie burgers tastier; it was one of the dullest things I’d ever eaten. Bung in a bit of chilli? Salt? MSG?

Grounds of Nuneham Park

Had our Strategy & Information Office ‘Summer Event’ on the Friday afternoon prior to Peace in the Park, a day characterized by torrential rain the whole day, somewhat to my relief given that the event was scheduled to end with ‘Games’ from 3pm to 4pm and I had had nightmare visions of being corralled into some sort of team ball game (one of the finest things about leaving school, IMO, was never having to participate in one of these ever again). In the event, the ‘Games’ consisted of an amusing array of giant Jenga, giant Connect 4, skittles and similar (Twister was also brought out, but no one seemed to want to play that - probably, like me, not finding the thought of possibly ending up with nose pressed against a colleague’s thigh all that enticing). These delights were all from a large storage box in the OU’s Pavilion Bar, where the afternoon was held (NB bar not actually open).

Since Willow’s death, Harley has been re-exploring the ground floor, having been more or less banished upstairs by Willow during her residence. Ruth swears she spotted a binky in the living room during his first weekend without her. Willow was given to chasing Harley out of the living room if he dared to enter, sometimes tearing out a lump of his fur for good measure. Why they couldn't just co-exist I've no idea - unless rabbits just don't do that. But then they live in burrows in the wild. Perhaps they're so tightly packed there that resistance isn't really possible. Subsequently, Ruth appears to be wavering and on the verge of deciding that Harley may well need another companion. I am resolutely ignoring this.

As a follow up to May’s Wine Tasting Experience, Helen kindly delivered the two bottles of Calle Mayor Cabernet Sauvignon 2011 that I’d ordered as part of the communal case we bought from the company Pieroth. Now pondering a suitable occasion to drink one of them, with appropriate company, as obviously they just shouldn't be slugged back as part of relief of finishing a week's work, etc, and Ruth doesn't drink red wine (making her, to my mind, not a proper wine drinker).

As our recent purchase of a splendid new Bosch fridge-freezer made our old freezer redundant, I advertised it on Reading Freegle (Freecycle as was) at 12.30 a couple of Saturdays ago and was surprised when it was taken by just after 1pm. In fact I had four replies to the ad in the first hour. People are obviously hovering in desperation for secondhand freezers. Now worried in case one of the people I didn’t offer it to was more worthy. Tend to adopt the approach of offering it to the person who can collect first, as by the time I get around to advertising stuff I’m already at the stage of no longer wanting it under my feet.

Nia racing Daddy

Paid a flying visit to Abergavenny on the first weekend in August, partly to visit Dad who has been ill with pneumonia; Ruth came down on the train and Dave and family joined us on the Saturday. In an attempt to relieve Mum I offered to bake quiches to accompany lunch, continuing recent enthusiasm for quiche-making. Nia baked two jam tarts with offcuts of quiche pastry I gave her – she had a good go at negotiating for more pastry but I managed to resist. Alys spent some of the day on her all-singing all-dancing playmat. (At one point I went into the sitting room to find Alys gone – Dave had taken her upstairs for a nap – but the playmat still emitting relentless tinkly music, while Dad stared at it from the sofa with a “Make it stop” expression. I managed to find the off switch.) We went for a short walk down to the water meadows in the afternoon. Nia appeared not too thrilled with much of the walk, though cheered up briefly for a race with Daddy.

Learned that sadly the cutting of our black bamboo hadn’t survived. The pruned section of the other bamboo we’d donated seems to have taken well, though unfortunately Dad doesn’t seem to like that one.

After 10-hour day on Friday compiling updates and report on the National Student Survey data, had intended to do a bit more this morning but couldn’t in the end face it. My update to Judith at close of play on Friday risked turning into babbling about how I didn't feel I'd done enough, at which point she told me to go home and have a relaxing weekend. Consequently, I ignored work this morning and went out to Asda instead to purchase a mop and some drain unblocker, as the bathroom in the flat was in desperate need of a clean. I indeed know how to enjoy myself. Bathroom is now, hopefully, sparkling.

Met Violetta, from the next flat to mine, in the bin store on Friday morning. She noted how nice it was to meet a fellow resident as she'd feared there might be no one else actually alive in the building. 'Tis the way with flats mainly rented to working people, I guess - you'd have to rely on bumping into someone else in the corridor either on your way out to work (when most of us are probably not at our most conversational) or on the way home.

Had a day in London yesterday, officially to meet up with Helen, whom I don’t think I’d seen since her wedding last September, but I generally make the most of the Travelcard by going in early. Had myself breakfast at Carluccio’s (naturally) before taking a walk down through Bloomsbury and past Coram’s Fields and Great Ormond Street Hospital to find the Premier Inn that Ruth and I have booked into for my birthday next weekend. It’s close to Lamb’s Conduit Street (love London place names; no idea which part of a lamb that is ...) and comes out on High Holborn right next to the Kimchee. Walked from there down to look at the Walkie-Talkie (quite a long walk) as we may also be going there next weekend. On the way, passed the gardens in the ruins of Christ Church Greyfriars, which I'd not seen before. Then took a bus to Oxford Street and wandered around briefly before going for a cold drink in the café of The Photographers' Gallery, where Helen and I had arranged to meet. The last time I’d been there was five years ago prior to the refurb, though I have to say I think I preferred the café’s previous position on an upper floor. It served nice food though and was surprisingly uncrowded considering it’s just off Oxford Street – we got tables with ease for both lunch and afternoon tea.

We’d come to see the Shirley Baker ‘Women, Children and Loitering Men’ exhibition - fascinating photos of what looked like incredible deprivation, though Baker's point was evidently the destruction of the community life in the terraced streets that resulted from the 1960s slum clearance programmes. As a ticket gives you access to all the gallery’s exhibits we also looked round the We Want More exhibition on the top two floors, though I think all that clever visual imagery stuff might have passed over my head somewhat. After tea and some excellent chocolate cake and a gander at some of Helen's wedding photographs, we made our way out past some deafening garage music which had set up camp on Ramillies Street, me muttering in grumpy old woman fashion though I don’t think Helen was far behind. Wandered down Oxford Street a bit to prolong our chat, though I hate fighting against the crowds and eventually made Helen turn off down a side street.

We parted around 4pm, her to buy sheets in BhS and me to return to Euston. Helen and her new husband Greg have been living in one room in a house shared by seven people until quite recently, which from her descriptions sounds horrendous. Thankfully they've now moved into a flat of their own. Concluded that neither of us is suited to house-shares - though I have pondered for some while the possibility of moving into some sort of commune in later life. My boss Judith appears to be pondering a similar 'house shares for old people' type of plan. We concluded at lunch last week that there has to be a market for that. Both Ruth and previously Ray have been of the view that someone of my general anal-retentiveness and tenacious cling to personal privacy would be manifestly unsuited to any sort of shared living arrangement, but they are both of course wrong.