It's a funny world

You know, sometimes the simplest of things can seem hugely funny. Like whispering 'Do you want any marmalade?'. OK, doesn't seem funny to you (or to me, to be sure) but it had my friend in tears of laughter last night.

Humour - a very personal thing don't you think? But, then again, humour is not always jokes, or situations, or events, but just looking at something with the right frame of mind.

A couple of weekends ago some of the guys I know went to Belgium to play at a festival. On the way back Kevin texted Guido 'On the train now'. Well, Guido was four cars behind him in the queue, so he knew he wasn't. When challenged, Kevin said 'Well, I'd have been on the train by the time you received the text. It's called predictive texting.'

That, I would call wit. But there's some really cringe-worthy stuff I've been thinking about too - mostly to do with 'Mother'. My mother is not the most tactful of ladies (and, darn it, I've inherited some of that 'speak first, think later' attitude, I regret). For example!

Mother: "Are your family all large too?"

Friend: .... amazingly, she was not rude in reply!

Mother - on seeing one of our friends for first time in years, first thing she says is: "You are on Thorazine too?"

Mother, when sitting next to my gay friend: "I've... never sat next to someone... from Israel before." (PHEW!)

Mother (to me): "You were so skinny as a child. I never thought you'd turn out f.."

Children come out with the most amazing wit too, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. When my son was very small, I saw him jumping up and down in the garden. "I can't reach it!" he said, frustrated. "What?" said I, concerned mother. "The sky."

And a friend's child, watching me breastfeed my daughter many years ago, asked what I was doing: "giving the baby milk," I explained. She looked serious. "What's in the other one?"

Ah, the things kids say and do. But best of all is the faux pas... but maybe I'll save them for another post.

The Port of Felixstowe

"A work trip with a difference"

On Friday I visited one of my employer's clients to help me write up a report we are doing - a joint entry for a training award.

Duncan, the man I went to visit, also wanted to show me round the port. Now, I guess a lot of folks aren't going to be excited by rubber tyred gantries, big ships and containers - but to see the Port in full flow was fascinating. Something like 15 million containers are moved through the UK every year (it's growing every year too) and Felixstowe handles around a third of these - thats a lot of 20 foot metal boxes! Seeing them stacked, seeing them lifted on and off 'tugs' (the internal transports that shuffle the containers around) and then up onto the ships was amazing. The scale - the sheer scale of everything was impressive.

Duncan took me in a port car up to the edge of the quay, so I could see closely how it all worked. He took me round Landguard, the older quayside which has a shallower draft (around 11 metres for those interested) where smaller ships still come in (I say small - still looked huge to me!) and eventually to the original dock which was the very first place ships (old sailing cargo ships) would have come in. It looked so small compared to the rest of the port. Soon they are going to fill it in, turn that whole area into a massive new quayside - but it was amazing to think that ships - from tall sailing ships, through steamers to modern ships - had probably come in there over the last couple of hundred years.

Bringing spice from the Indies, fruit from Africa, silk from Samarkand, timber and minerals from the Americas... and Christmas decorations (on the largest container ship ever to dock in the UK) from China. The older images are more romantic, eh?

Yeah, I guess to be accurate I should go look up my maritime history, but the port today is crucial to both the local and national economy. They have rail, ship and lorry (external hauliers, internal tugs) to coordinate, thousands upon thousands of containers (and they know where any one is at any time) and ships coming in and out all day, every day (except Christmas day and Boxing day). There's about 3000 people working at the port, yet one of those huge great ships only needs 12 people to operate it. Amazing.

The scale of things is what impressed me most - the gantries are huge, the stacks of containers make the final scene of 'Raiders of the Lost Arc' look unimpressive - and the number of 'moves' - each time a container is shifted - incredible.

It takes quite an operation to run all this, which is why I was visiting Duncan (we trained some of his Operations Staff) and unlike manufacturing, for example, there are so many variables to account for - weather, for one. No matter how much you computerise systems, you still have to account for people, weather and other unpredicatables.

I enjoyed the visit, and was impressed by Duncan's obvious enthusiasm for his job too. I learned a lot and I got my report written with far more insight than if I hadn't visited.

Will I get a song out of it? Not sure - too many darn good sailing songs out there already (mind you, I might finish my "Mary Rose" one eventually).

Here's some further information about the planned expansions, with a bit of history too: www.dft.gov.uk

And here's a more detailed page with historical info: www.portoffelixstowe.co.uk

Indian School

"A piece of American history I never knew"

On my last full day in the US we visited the Heard Museum in Phoenix. The museum was set in a Spanish colonial style building and comprised collections of Indian artifacts including basketwork, pottery and the intriguing Katsinca 'dolls' - intricate models that were used for teaching the children about Indian religion. The exhibits showed how the different peoples lived, from the farming Pueblo nations to the nomadic tribes and also how they live today.

The exhibit that I found most extraordinary though, was the Indian Schools. The picture above shows a Navajo called 'Tom Torlino' - doesn't sound very Indian, does it? The picture on the left is how Tom was when he arrived at the school, on the right after he'd been there a while. Now, as you can see, Tom was a young man not a child. But children were sent - forcibly taken from their homes and sent - to the Indian Boarding schools from as young as five years old.

You see, 'taming the savage' by sending him to school and turning him into a little American was one way of 'solving the Indian problem'. Indian problem? Oh, the fact that they were occupying land that ... well, I guess historically I have to say 'we' (being of Anglo/Norman descent) wanted. Take George Washington, that paragon of liberation who freed the US from the Brits... he said “…(They) were wolves and beasts who deserved nothing from the whites but 'total ruin.” Um... guess they aren't going to use that quote often in modern history teaching?

The exhibit at the Heard was moving - the schools only closed as recently as the 1930s I think. This is quite a good site: "http://historyday.crf-usa.org/1712/introduction.html" with a basic introduction if you want to learn more.

So I wanderd round the exhibit with Nadine - looking at black and white photos of Indian children clutching each other in panic and pain, lined up like little Edwardian children, dressed in European style clothes, and the hair of the men shorn and neatly parted. To most Indian tibes, the cutting off of hair indicated that a man was a coward. So, these kids - perhaps as young as five, perhaps as old as 16, were taken from their homes, shaven, their clothes taken from them, the names taken from them, and then taught basic skills and 'how to be American'. This was one 'solution' to the Indian problem. Beats what Mr Jefferson wanted to do: “…(The US should) “pursue [Indians] to extermination, or drive them to new seats beyond our reach."

And hey - didn't it just work out fine? Didn't they get just what they wanted? A completely assimilated race who just fit neatly into the American model of a perfect citizen? Well, I guess not. No matter how many cultures try to overtake another - be it Japan invading China, Germany invading Poland or England invading India... it never works. Cultures that have been in existence for thousands of years cannot be wiped out through forced assimilation.

I have no idea what we as people have learned from this throughout history - I have a nasty feeling that this desire to conquer and convert (culturally, religiously or even in appearance if you want to look at celebrity 'worship') is such an ingrained part of human nature that, as a species, we won't ever really stop or change. We may intellectually examine the options, and decide what is morally right or wrong, but when it comes to the 'crunch' (and the next one on the calendar is probably not going to be world war three but global warming in my humble opinion), we will revert to our most basic of instincts.

I never met or spoke to any Native Americans (apart from one shop assistant who sold me a great hat) when I visited the US, but I did learn a lot from my visit to the Heard. I asked Nadine if she had any cultural attachment - any sense of belonging - to the Native Americans? She said no, she felt her cultural history was that of the settlers in her history who came over to the US from Scotland and Ireland.

I thought about it. My personal family history is easy to trace (on my father's side). I have two massive family history volumes with pictures, photographs, family trees going back centuries. But my family came over with the Normans. Do I feel culturally part of the UK, which - I guess if you go far back enough - is Anglo Saxon and Celtic? I don't know. More to the point, I don't feel the importance of being 'English' in that way; as a Norman or a Celt. I'm just English. I love my heritage - this country and it's rich cultural variation. I also love going to other places and exploring and finding out about other cultures. I understand that as an 'imported' race, the whites in the US have as many and varied cultures as the Indians have tribes, so I understand that Nadine's 'emotional' attachment to the Native Americans is perhaps best described as one of shame at what our ancestors did. Much as I feel when I read about the many atrocities the English committed in countries all round the world in the name of 'Empire' and - oh yeah! - civilisation. We tried quite a bit of that 'taming the savage' stuff across the world, not just in the US. Don't think it's all in the dim and distant past either - there is some awful stuff we have done as a nation that is very much in living memory.

I understand that unless I set aside another lifetime for studying, I could never begin to grasp all the implications of the effects the Indian Schools had on the indiginous race and culture. So much must have been lost in that time, snatched from childhood. But much survives. And you can't crush spirit - and spirit seems to outlive every atrocity that mankind heaps upon mankind somehow.

I found more pictures on this site: www.nativeamericans.com but if you have a site you think may be of interest to anyone that this story has stirred some interest in, please post a comment or let me know.

See what a trip to a museum can bring? (By the way, my myspace site now has a song I wrote about the Indian School - http://www.myspace.com/98749481

Gambling bear

"We teach Paddington to gamble"

On our way back from the Grand Canyon we stopped for supper at the Cliff Castle Casino. This is an Indian casino run by the Yavapai-Apache Nation and is on the hills by Montezuma's Castle. We tried to see the castle on the way out but the signposts weren't clear, so we missed that particular tourist hot spot.

But at 9pm, when we arrived back at the Casino after our trip, we entered for some supper. The main room, an atrium almost, was full of slot machines going 'bing bing bing' and people literally plugged in to them. Not feeding coins or notes in one by one, but plugged in with credit card type inputs that were attached to the players by long coiled cords. It had a rather eerie feeling - sort of 'Matrix'. Every pull of the handle, money disappeared.

I had a go just to say I'd done it. I put in a five dollar bill, pulled the handle a few times - no jingle of winnings, no flashing lights - actually, absolutely no attraction whatsoever! We played the money out to the last 25 cents which I then received a little printed slip for. OK, I could have cashed it but the truth is we saved it as a souvenir. A 25 cent souvenir that cost me $5.... so, you telling me that this isn't a mug's game?

Rooms to the side had poker players huddled round tables, but the whole thing was rather... how can I put it? Like anything you see on TV and then visit in 'real life', it was kind of tame. I'm sure the players were having 'fun' - but it didn't appeal to me (and I have to say I am a useless poker player, just ask Alex!).

We wanted to eat, but the burger bar next to the bowling alley (all part of the casino) was closed. Well, got to keep the kids busy whilst you pour their inheritance down the drain, eh?

We went into the main restaurant and I had Indian fry bread with refried beans, chilli, cheese... oh, loads of stuff on it! Delicious. So, I sort of had an Indian meal, but I'm so confused with the cultures (Indian, Mexican, American) that I'm not sure I'd say it was 'authentic'. Whatever, it was very nice and very filling.

After we'd eaten it was time to hit the road, but we wanted a photo of Paddington Bear to send to Cathy. Paddington was our 'Cathy substitute' for the week, so we took pictures of him in all sorts of situations. Now, taking photos in a Casino is not really on, but we asked nicely and the Head of Security, a chap called Dave (and not a Native American, incidentally) cleared it with 'management' and took a photo of us with Paddington at some slot machines.

Poor little bear - we put him in the snow, dragged him round a museum, dropped him in the Botanic Garden (but speedily retrieved) and had him photographed by security... he'd have a few tales to tell if he could talk that's for sure.

Grand Canyon

"Words and pictures cannot do it justice"

I'd asked to visit the Grand Canyon - after all it's in Arizona and it would have been a shame not to see it. So, Sunday we had planned as a family day out. Tomas and Charley, Nadine and I were due to go to the Grand Canyon. But... Tomas had homework and Charley said he should stay home (well, actually, there were two football matches on).

So, once again Nadine and I were off on a (mini) road trip. We'd only got back from California the day before, but a further 200 miles didn't seem to bother her. This time we took the Jeep.

The scenery was once again amazing. This time instead of heading due west (for California) we headed due north, over two mountain ranges. Phoenix to Flagstaff, then Williams and North to the rim of the Canyon.

We'd started off in sunny Phoenix, but headed up to over 7,000 feet altitude, so it was colder and snowy. The snow was a pristine white, the roads however (despite four foot of snow either side) were clear and ice free. I loved it! We stopped for shopping (of course) and also stopped quite simply to play in the snow.

We reached the canyon at about 3pm and the sun coloured the scenery with deep reds and gold. The air was freezing, the skies amazing. Nothing I can say and no pictures I took can do it justice - it is one of the most wondrous natural sights that, if you can, you really should see. I would have loved to visit for longer, maybe fly or balloon - but not this time. I've seen it, it touched me. Nature astounds.

I drove the jeep a small way, enjoying the experience of driving a new vehicle in a new country. I enjoyed making snow angels and watching the changing scenery. All the way there, all the way back, new experiences for my senses - the smell, the sights, the sounds. The birds, the mountains, the roads and the towns... everything new and I drank it all in.

My road companion was patient and kind, and even smoked less in my company!

What can I say? I want to go back. I want to see more of that amazing canyon, of the countryside, of the cities and towns. So much to see and do, so little time! But I had a ball - oh yeah, I had a ball.

Holiday of a lifetime

My trip to America

A long flight from Heathrow to Chicago, then another flight from Chicago to Phoenix, plus a delay from Chicago meant that my travelling time from home to Phoenix was around 24 hours. But it didn't matter! Every moment of travel was worth it!

When I finally arrived at Phoenix airport at around 10pm local time, Nadine was there to meet me. Now, it may seem odd to some, but I had travelled half way round the world to go and visit someone I had never met. Nadine and I are 'internet buddes' - we've known each other for nearly two years via a writing circle we both belong to.

So when I first saw Nadine 'in the flesh' I wondered what she would be like, and wondered what she would make of me. The first thing I noticed was that - hey not really a surprise - she was a lot shorter than me. Or I was a lot taller than her, whichever way you look at it. But meeting her was easy - we found each other's company as easy in person as we did on line. So - now that I'd made it to the US, met Nadine (and her family), there was only one thing left to do... HAVE FUN!

Day one Mait, Nadine's middle son, made us pancakes. Amazing! Nothing like my flat and flaccid offerings. Delicious. We took an easy start to the day and then headed to the Botanic Garden, finishing with a dark climb up the Papago hill. An owl atop the hill hooted and did his impression firstly of a tourist, and then of a coyote, but the 'hoo hoooo, hoo' kind of convinced me that the shadowy outline really was a great horned owl.

More pictures: PictureTrail

Thelma and Louise!

"Road trip!"

no one in the US seems bothered by long drives - perhaps because the country is so big, but more I guess because the roads are good. To travel from Phoenix to Seal Beach in a day (about 350 miles each way) is not a problem; with long straight roads it is easy (we took Route 10 then went down into Seal Beach, South of Los Angeles). But the traffic! Five lanes of road each way and you still sit bumper to bumper (or should that be fender to fender?).

Along the way we saw a real change in the desert scenery, from the cactus laden rocky Arizona desert to the sandy and scrubby bush covered desert of California. I saw some amazing hawks and as we came into Los Angeles County - the haze of the pollution was thick and tainted the air. But the mountain scenery was amazing, and when we eventually hit Seal Beach (we took plenty of stops along the way - no hurry) the sun was almost ready to set.

We checked in at the Paradise Inn (neat little hotel) and headed straight for the beach.

We watched the sun creep towards the horizon then dip down as if it had suddenly made up its mind to set. We wandered round the town briefly then had a meal at a fish restaurant. We were served by the same waitress who had served Nadine and her family three years before! The fish was nice, the potato was cold, but the wine was excellent.

Back to the hotel and a good sleep, but my - Nadine snores! Hey, so do I. I only know she snored as I played a bit of guitar and she promptly fell asleep. I have that effect on people!

The next day we went back down to the beach and I got to dip my toes in the Pacific. It was cold! A bright day, sunny but not warm enough to swim. The surfers wore wet suits, and the fishermen on the pier were wearing coats not just tee shirts. It wasn't cold by UK standards, but this was winter in California.

I talked to some fisherman - they catch 'anything'. Flatfish? I said I used to catch mackeral. 'Yeah, we catch Spanish mackeral, use them as bait.' Spanish mackeral? Do they have an accent? Another fisherman we talked to told us how early in the morning the dolphins swim past, on their way down to Huntingdon beach to feed, then come back in the evening. Out past Catalina island (which was hidden by a sea haze) you can see blue whales.

We did some more shopping, including a trip to a candy store and a book store, then finished a lazy day with dinner at Ruby's diner on the end of the pier. Lots of bright red and a burger, fries and salad that was ample for the two of us to share. Good food, amazing views over the sea, and polite and friendly service.

We ended up the day with a drink in O'Malleys Irish bar. Heaving - barely enough room to stand so it was one drink each, a wander round the shops (they were open late) and then back to the hotel again for another good sleep.

The following morning we headed back to Arizona, but not until we'd done some ... shopping! I went into a music shop but as it seemed to specialise in ukeleles, I didn't make any purchases.

My visit to California was an amazing drive through the countryside and a very relaxed couple of days at Seal Beach 'off season'. I liked it. Yeah - I could go back there again.

More photos: Flickr.com

Learning the American Way

"Baseball in the dark!"

On my last evening (after wonderfully grilled steaks prepared by Charley, Nadine's husband) I asked Tomas, her youngest son, how I should throw an American Football. I'd bought one to take back to my son Alex, so I wanted to show him how to throw it.

"Come outside into the yard.." and out in the yard, the front of the house with the concrete entrance by the drive and the obligatory basektball hoop, Tomas tried to teach me to throw - fingers on the stitches, get it to spin, let go just so...

I sort of got it. We then decided to try baseball (I'd also bought Alex a catcher's mitt and ball) so out came everyone's mitts, a couple of baseball bats and a ball. Now, a yard is not large enough for playing baseball and there are lots of car windows around and - did I mention? - it was dark. Nearly 10pm. Sean (Nadine's oldest son) appeared having been to the store to get supplies to make S'mores. Mmmmm! Graham crackers (a sweetened cracker), marshmallows and Hershey's chocolate.

Sean joined in the games - standing there in the dark in his pale pants (trousers!), hawaiian shirt and trilby hat, swinging a baseball bat. It got sort of surreal at this point so we went in to eat the s'mores.

Melted the marshmallows over an open fire (yes, an open fire in Arizona), put on the crackers with chocolate. All melted together ... wonderful! No calories, of course. Sean was extremely lively and cheerful, enjoying his s'mores and very chatty. Which, considering he'd been awake for nearly 30 hours (with only an hour nap) was quite amazing. I'll never understand their hours...

A day at the botanic garden

"Hummingbirds and cottontails"

The first morning, and I awoke at 5.30am with Sean's alarm beeping madly. By the time I had oriented myself and found the light switch, it had stopped. I went back to sleep and woke at 8am when the dustmen came and emptied the dumpsters.

The trip for the day was the Botanic Gardens. It was beautiful - amazing cacti (barrel, cholla, all sorts!), I saw my first Joshua Tree, and hummingbirds! Wonderful creatures.

I saw cactus wren and many other coloured birds too - but the fun in the evening, at the end of our lovely day at the gardens, was climbing the Papago Hills in the dark and hearing the ghostly hoot of a horned owl!

That night I met Sean's friend Mike - and I played a bit of guitar and sang - very self-conciously!

American dreams

"Time travelling"

My trip to the US arrived! I started from home at 7am on Tuesday morning, then arrived in Chicago, was delayed and eventually arrived in Arizona 24 hours later. However, due to time zones it was still only 10pm Tuesday. I'm a time traveller!

I did write a bit on the plane, but the whole trip from US to UK I sat next to a very quiet Mexican - no conversation whatsoever. My, that was a looooong flight!

At Chicago I needed to buy some supplies, so I found a small Hudson's stand and bought the required item (why now! Not fair, not due for another week...). The tall gentleman at the checkout (see? I'm learning American!) said 'Hey, do I detect an accent? Where are you from?' I answered 'London' and he was charming. 'Have a great time, come back soon' and it actually sounded genuine. Now the security man who saw me through to airside at Chicago said 'Here you go sir' without looking up. Bah. Charmed and insulted in Chicago! Oh yeah, it was rainy too - not windy.

The flight was delayed though so instead of a two hour wait I had a three and a half hour wait. I had one drink at the bar and then just sat and waited. And waited. By the time I got on the flight I was really not with it at all. The plane was cold so I only managed about an hour out of the three to get any sleep. One hour out of 24 - not my usual quotient.

As I flew over the US I noticed that everything was straight lines and so well lit. Empty lots, long empty roads - everything lit up like Christmas. And some buildings too as we came in over Phoenix - outlined in lights to make them look like escapees from a badly drawn cartoon.

When I eventually arrived in Phoenix, more than a little tired, I saw Nadine immediately. She was exactly as I expected. Her smile was wide, her arms too. We hugged like we'd known each other lifetimes, not just 18 months and over the net.

She drove me to her home in her black convertible Mustang (Alex, you'd love this car!) through the city and out into Glendale. Sean, her eldest son, was waiting up for us. We stopped at a Safeway to buy some bread and fruit.

We sat and had a glass (or two) of wine and talked for another two hours. I have no idea if I made any sense whatsoever. Nor if they understood me. But I knew I had arrived. My goodness, I was really in America! Wow, Bryan, I'm here. I'm really here. When I got to bed, I slept well. Very well indeed.

Goodbye 2007

And hello 2008.... very soon.

There's lots I'm glad to see the back of in 2007, but so much more I'm happy to have been through. Time for a reflective? Goodness no! Far too much fun in store still!

Happy New Year to you all. For those of you who have suffered, may the forthcoming year bring you happiness. For those of you who have had a great year, may 2008 be even better!

Published at last!

"The ghost sniffer took its time..."

Back in March I did the recording for my first ever properly published work, "The Ghost Sniffer and other stories" - a collection of short ghost stories. The publisher is a small independent with fingers in many other pies, but the books arrived at last!

So now I have to market them - set up my website properly, add a shopping cart, send out promo copies and really push it. It's the start, I hope, of me getting writing properly.

Want to buy a copy?!!

Coming to America!

"By the time I get to Phoenix..."

The last few years my old man has bought me some pretty fantastic Christmas presents: flying a Tiger Moth, Gliding and - last year - wind tunnel flying. This year he has completely blown me away: I am going to America!

On 8th January I will be flying from Heathrow to Chicago and then on to Phoenix. Now, why (you may ask) am I going there? Because my very good friend, Nadine, lives in Glendale. We've been friends for over a year (via our writing circle. Nadine, Cathy and I are all moderators on the forum and have become firm friends over the last year. I have managed to meet up with Cathy in Ireland a couple of times (see 'A trip to Ireland' and 'oop North') but the thought of managing to meet Nadine, well ... it wasn't on the cards.

So - my husband has been liaising with Nadine over the internet and arranged that I am going to visit for a week. He has also arranged time off at work with my boss and obviously has all the bases covered for my planned absence. He also bought me the National Geographic traveler guide to Arizona... and I am SOOOOO excited!

Grand Canyon, Indian reservations, cities, desert.... so much to see and .. and.. I have no idea what we will fit in over just one week, but maybe even cross the border to California.

Now, almost everyone seemed to know about this present (my neighbours, my friends, my colleagues and, of course, my family) and Nadine (yeah, and Cathy) of course. When I opened my present and saw the tickets and book - I have to say I was speechless.

Now all I have to do is be PATIENT!.... (fat chance) and plan what to pack, what to wear, what to ... aargh! I'm going to America! I've never been outside Europe before, this is going to be soooooo cool.

What can I say? Well, I could mention what I bought Bryan for Xmas, but it's going to pale into insignificance, isn't it?

A shirt.
A board game.
A coffee maker
and
A black, bat shaped electric bouzouki.

He's drunk so much coffee he must be jizzed out his skin, and he hasn't stopped playing his new instrument. He's going to wear his shirt today and I'm sure we'll play the board game soon.

Just remains for me to say Merry Christmas to one and all. And yeah, you bet I'm going to have some new stories for my blog over the next few weeks!

Take five minutes...

The other day I went down town to take some books to the charity store. I had meant to do a car boot one day... but ... cold mornings and too much effort.

So I parked, bought a ticket (50p for one hour) and unloaded the boxes of books into the shop and they were appreciative.

As this only took me 10 minutes, I had a good few pence worth left on my parking ticket so I wandered round town briefly. No particular aim in mind, I went up our small market town high street and looked in a few shop windows. We have one shop, a tailor, owned by Colin Creevey. I do wonder if JK Rowling ever visited our little town.

I looked in the window of the jewellers, and then turned round to face the street. I just stood. Doing nothing, thinking nothing almost. No urge to move.

Then I heard my name called, and I turned and saw a friend I had not seen for nearly four years.

If I had left town, or gone into a shop, or done anything other than stood stock still for those few moments outside the jewellers, I'd have missed her.

We walked together to the bakers, then back to her car (in a hurry, off to a fancy dress works party in Stratford Upon Avon). We spent 12 or so minutes together very companionably.

The following week I went shopping in Milton Keynes. I followed signs to the 'Park and Ride', parked the car then crossed the road and got on the bus. Only one other passenger, a tall man with a big coat (it was mighty cold) and a violin case on the seat next to him.

The bus pulled off and he turned to me and said 'Good idea this, isn't it?'. Park and ride. I agreed. We then entered into a brief conversation but in that time we discovered we were both singers. He played violin for fun, but sang in a choir.

When he told me he was a 'lay clerk' at a cathedral, it kind of fit. He had - if such a thing is possible - 'that look' about him.

It was a lovely five minute ride to the shopping centre, talking with him, and when I left the bus I had a big grin on my face. There are nice people in the world, and sometimes we are lucky enough to meet them and share a few moments with them.

I met one man for five mintues, I met an old friend for 12; those were precious moments. Each one brought a smile to my life.

Learning about EFT

Turning on the 'tap'

My weekend started on Friday evening, with the works Xmas 'do' - a great meal in a lovely hotel, plenty of drink (not too much, I was sensible) and the unusual sight of Zoe dancing on crutches. Saturday was spent quietly, doing some shopping, house stuff, things like that. Sunday, however, I went to London.

Planned for some time, this was a day I was spending completely selfishly. I went to meet Alison Munro and learn about EFT and how to do it (see Extremely Freaky..). It's taken me a few months to coordinate my diary and actually have a free day to go on her programme, so I was really pleased that she could fit me in. As it happened, it was the smallest class she'd ever taken - only two of us.

Normally classes were about 10 people, so Debbie (the other delgate) and I had some real quality one to one teaching. Alison told us about the history of EFT (in its current form it has only been around for 14 years) and how successful it is. We saw videos of wonderfully emotional Americans loving every minute... yeah, I was midly sceptical, except... except I've seen it work.

Alison showed us how to do it, the series of tapping your finger on meridian points around the hand and head, the language you use for 'set up' statements to get the messages right, and how you need to listen and adapt what you say and look for the emotional source of the issue you are tackling. It's odd, I have to say, but it does work.

Alison tapped on each of us, we tapped on each other (but we didn't tap on Alison). It can be used to help with all sorts of things from emotional pain to pyhsical pain, from habit breaking to confidence building. The best way to describe it, she said, was 'Like acupuncture, without the needles'. Folks can relate to that better than the weird meridian point and energy stuff.

Anyway, it was a good day. I enjoyed the programme immensely, found it very beneficial and it gives me a little extra weapon in my armoury for tackling self-confidence issues, nail biting (three weeks now and I've still not bitten them, since my original EFT encounter back in November) and anything else that comes along to challenge me.

Crutch? Supersition? Placebo? Does it matter? If it works - and for me it does - then rock on, I'm on side!

Standing for Tom

Last night we went to Alex's school to celebrate their achievements - lots of students came to receive their GCSE and AS and A Level certificates.

Many of them had come back from their first term at university, many from their first term of college (most of whom seemed to be at the school's own 6th form).

As well as receiving their certificates, there were also special awards for each subject in each year.

Alex had to be dragged - almost literally - to the event. "Nothing special" was his attitude. He was reluctant to shed jeans and wear trousers and a reasonably smart shirt. But we are glad we went - because he won an award for Media studies.

He got a little whoop of encouragement from classmates when he went up to collect his, a nice sign of the cameraderie in his group of friends. Many of those we saw collecting awards we knew, some since primary all those years ago.

The Head did a reasonable job of hosting; though no game show host, he did passably well. The guest speaker, a professor who is transferring all of Newton's works onto the web (some 8 million words?!), gave a slightly too long but interesting talk too.

The moment that got me though - above even watching my son receive his award - was when the kids 'stood for Tom'.

Nearly three weeks ago a young man called Tom, just 19, was killed on the rail crossing in our town. I didn't know him, but I knew people who did, and all were unanimous is their sadness at the loss of this young man.

At the celebration evening, Tom's parents attended to collect his A level certificates. What courage it took them to stand there in front of hundreds of people, every one knowing their loss. The applause was amazing - but the kids, his friends, showed us all what to do. They stood for Tom. The teachers followed, and then everyone else in the room.

Other parents that I knew were in front of us, and at one point turned to us and said 'So what's Alex going as to the party, then?' Party? What party? 'Oh,' she said. 'There's a party on Friday and the invitation says 'Fancy dress, and this means you too Alex'!

He has declared he is going as an elf. But it's a good thing she mentioned it - he had forgotten and we hand't a clue it was on. And elf! That'll be the day.

Maybe I can!

I take class for the first time

Hey! Not many at training today, so I got to take 'warm up' and take everyone through basics. Haven't done it before... even though I'm brown belt in shotokan karate, this was the first time I'd been asked to do the session start.

So - there's 3 beginners, 4 middle and a couple of seniors plus Sensei. After warm up (which I only missed one bit out, but I improvised) I took them through basics: punching, kicks, blocks... stuff I've done for years! Oh yeah, I got it wrong! It's like the first time on stage - you know every word of the song but as soon as the microphone goes live, you dry up.

But I did OK, with a bit of prompting from Sensei, of course. Then we split the class up and I took three through some kumite (partner fighting but to a strict routine) and then kata (series of moves in a specific pattern). They did ok. One young girl (I suppose she is about 12) got quite confused, but I think in the end she managed it OK. It's remembering hand, foot, body, fist, shouder positions... all those things at once. One cheeky lad told me we were doing the kata wrong, but what had happened is he'd mixed two up. He was convinced he was right! Er, sorry mate, listen to the higher grade - for once she is right!

After a while I was transferred to the beginners. Boy, did they need help! They managed to confuse me to start, but I really enjoyed watching the slow but definite progress they made.

At the end of the class Sensei thanked me, said he liked how I teach, thinks I have a 'nice way'. Good. It was so nice to have some positive feedback on something, and something I particularly enjoy.

I like our karate class - the mix of ages and abilities works well. The previous Sunday where we just do kata, I watched 15 year old Nadeem help 50-ish year old Alan train. The respect given by young to old and old to young is based around ability, and it's fantastic to watch.

I like karate. Just don't catch me on a bad day, OK?

Love

Oh gawd - what is she on about now?

Well, you see - I'm British. Therefore Love is a four letter word. From childhood, love was not something discussed. Certainly no hugging! Well, maybe, but I just can't remember that clearly to be honest. As a wheezy, scabby, unhealthy wraith of a child, I guess hugging me might not have been that attractive a proposition.

So, Love. But let's start with hugging: my friend Penni used to say hugging me was like 'hugging a concrete pillar'. Fun, eh? I did not know how to respond to tactile people. Never mind I have two kids, a long and happy marriage - other people touching me? Goodness! What a thought.

Now, husbands and kids notwithstanding, there's a lot of people who I know and love, but would never have dreamed of telling them - using the four letter word! It just isn't done, you know. Or ... well, that's what I thought.

But I use it with my kids - I tell them I love them, they use it with us as parents, with their friends and with granny. It's good - it's nice. I've even used it in passing conversation with one or two of my friends, daring eh?

And, I've started to hug people too - have for about the last year, and - you know what? I like it! I like human contact, being told without words that I matter, that I am acceptable, that touching me is not something to be avoided.

And, I've learned to accept and use the 'love' concept a little more broadly too. Tree hugging? No, not yet (though I believe the Silver Birch is especially grateful for such interactions), but I can now - thanks to two particular friends (you know who you are! Bint and Paddington...) - understand and share love on a different level.

I love my friends! I love them in a very different way to the way I love my husband or my kids or even my mother (well, you've got to love mothers haven't you?). But it is very rewarding.

I can't believe that at nearly half a century, I have not understood or experienced or shared this kind of friendship before.

Love is ok, isn't it? I am allowed, aren't I? Other people can love me too?

In overcoming some of my self-esteem issues, the acceptance of love is quite a big one for me. Yes, my husband loves me - it's his duty after all! Maybe people take what their partner says with a pinch of salt, because it is expected and may assume that it is not objective. It's a settled love, a comfortable love, a living love.

I have found that loving my friends has opened me up to being a more loving person altogether. I need more human touch. I need more because I want to give more.

So, have I gone weird, or am I just a latent human being? I don't know. But I did want to write it down. Because without my friends, I think I'd still be a rather isolated, cold and - as I have been told - slightly intimidating character.

Sod it. I'm just mush now... walk all over me!

Going up! and down.... and up! and down....

My new job as a lift attendant

My company often runs evening events in London for clients where my boss does her 'Michael Parkinson' impersonation and interviews a panel of experts for an invited audience. This week, she was chairing a panel at a Japanese bank, discussing the 'power and the pitfalls of mentoring'.

The conference facility where we were holding court was on the 9th floor of this grand old London edifice. The conference area was brand new, amazing wood panels and really comfy chairs!

But being on the 9th floor we had to shepherd guests (around 140) from the reception up to the conference rooms and through to our event. With colleagues stationed at various points to register, direct and socialise, it was my task to greet them in reception and get them to the 9th floor without getting lost.

I think I went up and down in the lift about ten times or more... it was fun! I texted Bryan at home "going up and down in lift. Whee." He really does wonder what I do for a job sometimes.

Once we'd got them all safely herded in (a herd of bankers.... is that the right collective noun do you think?) and they'd finished nibbling biscuits, drinking tea and orange juice, they all sat down in the main room with my boss and the four panellists on stage. It looked really cool - and apart from some odd squeaks on the PA, it went extremely well.

The four speakers were all very different, and good in their own ways, but one said his greatest mentor was his mother (yes, the audience went 'aahhh'). I liked him. Unassuming, but probably a great force for good in his world.

After the main event, it was 'networking time'. Now, I know you are probably highly envious of me - after a full day at work, driving into London, spending time going up and down in a lift and then having to network and chat to as many people as I could! But, actually, it wasn't as bad as it may seem. One lady and I had a great conversation about kick boxing, and for the first time in ages I felt comfortable and able to do this in a relaxed and easy manner. I didn't feel I was in 'my zone' but at least I didn't feel as out of place as I have done in the past.

After the event we drove back to the office - I say 'we' as there were seven of our team there and three of us went down together; Keeley driving and talking to her sat nav as if it was a person, calling it names when it made decisions she disagreed with, and calling it names when she didn't follow its directions.

I got home around 11, tired but pleased that the event had been a great success. Getting enough delegates there had been quite a marketing challenge, but we'd done it. Getting the logistics in place had been an interesting exercise too.

Either way, it had its ups and downs, as they say.

Just good friends

Seven monkeys are reunited

I may have mentioned a band I used to play in - Shave the Monkey". The band broke up in 2003 and since then we have not got together, all of us... until now. All seven of us (including Steve who left the band in 2000 and was replaced by Fran) got together round Guido's house for a meal and, it has to be said, a jolly good nostlagia trip.

We had an excellent meal after which Nicole (Guido's wife, and Ellen, Kevin's wife - both non-members) made a discreet exit. We talked of the good times, of silly things that had happened, remembering peculiar gigs and funny people we had met.

It was a relaxed and pleasant afternoon, and just for the hell of it we took some pictures afterwards to show all seven of us had been together, at the same time!

Now before anyone jumps to the conclusion that this means Shave are reforming, it was just lunch! We are just good friends!

EFT - Extremely Freaky Therapy

Or emotional freedom therapy - to give it its proper name.

I heard a comedian the other day rant humourously about his wife being into all sorts of 'weird spirit stuff - because her real life is so shit'. Made me smile. I know lots of people who are 'into' odd things - whether it's Tarot, Angel Readings, Past Life Regression... you name it. There's lots of stuff out there and a lot of people are interested - mostly because I guess a lot of life is shit.

Take the news - murder, war, economic depression: not a lot to cheer you up there, is there? Even the 'and finally' segments seem to have disappeared, no short pieces on dogs who can play the harmonica or lost geese who travel 30,000 miles hiding in a Chrismtas hamper ... you know the sort of thing I mean. There's no 'good news'. And with religion being the source of many of the world's problems - in my perception - I can understand why some people are completley turned off by it, whilst others take great solace and comfort from it. It's not for me, for sure (me and god had an argument a long while back; we're still not talking).

So what is EFT? Emotional Freedom Technique. And why the hell am I interested? Well, not because my life is shit (though on occassions parts of it are, as with anyone), but because I am intrigued, and want to help people. (Oh my gawd I hear you say - she's going to say the Miss America 'and world peace' any moment now!). Well, put your cynicism aside - I really do want to help!

It kind of started when Sensei (Mr Deacon to those who've never seen him dressed in white and chopping a pile of roof tiles with his bare hands) did some reflexology on my foot - to help my bad shoulder. It worked! OK, so HOW does it work? No idea - and not going to go into that in depth, after all there's lots of resources on the web that will tell you loads more than I can. But - it works. Different things work for different people. This may well be the 'placebo effect' - but does it matter, if it works? You can scientifically disprove any medical effect whatsoever from homeopathic remedies, but they work (even if not for everybody).

One of our associate trainers, Kate, talked to me some while back about EFT. It was interesting, because it linked up with the pressure points we do in karate. I can see the logic there. And she also told me about 'energy medicine' - completely over my head this one! But with all those complementary therapies out there, and some working for some folks, but maybe not all, then there has to be something in it somewhere. Chakra, energy fields, auras - all a bit esoteric for me. So, I plumped for one that made most sense to me.

Also, I have seen the results of this particular therapy - EFT - on a friend. Now, wether it worked because she 'believed' or just 'needed' it to work or not I don't know - what I know is it worked. I could visibly see the difference before and after.

So, what is it? EFT is a mix of pressure point technique and NLP (NLP - neuro lingustic programming)in my view - two subjects I have an understanding of. By tapping on key points and using affirmative message construction, you help the individual you are working with to address an issue - whether it's weight loss, low self-esteem or any other emotional or even physical problem.

Is it going to work? I don't know. My first experience directly with it was yesterday. It certainly gave me pause for thought, and I am going to work on a couple of particular issues (nail biting for one - what a disgusting habit!).

My next step is to be trained in 'how to', and that I'm going to do in December. Watch this space!

What is the world coming to?

I am disconcerted by a three year old

Driving to work after going to the doctors (rotator cuff injury - painful but seemingly fast healing thankfully), I stopped at the crossing as two parents and their small three year old daughter sat in her pushchair (I say three, it was just a guess). The parents talked while below, in her chair, the daughter clutched her prized toy... a full size replica AK47!!

What is the world coming to? I have no idea! My only guess is that daddy is a soldier (we live near a barracks) and she wanted one like daddy's...

From letches to leeches

In which I spend a week in Mallorca and spend quite a bit of time up a ladder

I had promised my daughter a trip ito Spain with her friend Laura, so we booked a few days (starting just before half term to save on air fares) to visit my mother in Mallorca.

She lives in a lovely old casa - but it is fairly primitive. No mains water (a well) and no mains sewerage (pose negro - the cess pit lies under the house) but nonetheless it is a lovely place. In the small village of Genova, in the hills above Palma, the house is a white-fronted single-storey building stuffed full of my step-father's collections - books, books and more books (plus some armour, a few old weapons and some weird and wonderful pictures and carvings).

We flew out late on a Wednesday night. The flight was fine - though Mel (nervous of flying) wasn't sitting next to me. I sat next to an artist and his wife. He showed me (briefly, we didn't really chat till near the end of the flight) some of his work. Modern, but I liked it! Check him out, I had a nice talk with him and his wife. They come from Bogotá, Colombia. I knew they were speaking Spanish, but it was very different sounding.

We arrived early Thursday morning and once the taxi had taken us to the casa, it was a case of heads down. The taxi driver told me there had been awful rains during the day (which Sally confirmed), but we were in Spain!! No fair - an English summer of rain and now...

The Thursday morning, however, the sun shone brightly, and did so all the way up until the final Wednesday. I even caught some sun! That's good for me, I don't usually do anything except go pink and peel or just stay plain white. As it is, I'm a darker shade of pasty than usual.

Thursday we did very little, spent time on the beach and just relaxed. The locals were worried that Laura and Mel would be 'frigio' in their shorts and skimpy tops, but no - this was warm for us! Mind you, their long legs nearly caused a few accidents as young men driving by looked at them instead of the stationery traffic ahead of them.

We travelled by bus, using the 'bono bus' discount cards. One trip was on a 'bendy bus' and we stood in the bend - a bit like the inside of an accordion I reckon. Though we spent a lot of time at the beach, I also helped out with some chores at the casa. I trimmed the palm tree, which means ascending via a ladder and then using shears to cut down the brown leaves and pull down the dead husks - and every one was full of that gritty black dirt that remains once the seeds or fruits (not sure what kind of palm it is) are dead and decayed. The smaller of the two palms was easer (and a variety of date, I'm sure), but even so I was showered in gritty black dust. I wore sunglasses and a hat as protection, but that didn't keep it out of my clothing (all the way down to my underwear!).

One day we went to Marineland down the coast a bit. We watched parrots do the things that parrots do not do, and seals do the things seals do not do, and dolphins do the things that dolphins do not do - in the wild. Is it right? To train these creatures, even though they are in captivity, to perform for us? I don't know. I know the centre does great rescue work on turtles and other marine life, but... it didn't sit right with me. I would not applaud the performance of a parrot 'dancing'. I saw it's clipped wings, it's eagerness to receive the food titbit as reward for its bizarre behaviour.


One day I took the girls into Palma to go shopping - yes! Watch out girls about! But, the Palma fashions were not to their taste (funnily enough it looked a bit English Country Aristocracy!) and 'It's cheaper in Primark' was the trademark comment. But we did find Alex a great jumper, and in a subsequent trip to Porto Pi (the nearest 'mall' equivalent) we did find them two nice jumpers too. Mind you, Laura left hers at the doughnut stand. We returned to Porto Pi though, and the girl on the doughnut stand produced Laura's bag and her jumper so it was worth the return trip.

We never drink the water from the taps at the casa because it comes from the well, then into a tank, then down ancient pipes into the house. "There's black bits in the water" Sally said. "Run the tap first for a bit." I ran the tap and the black bits 'wiggled'. There were leeches in the well! Only tiny ones, but even so. I went down to the shop and talked to the proprietor, Carmen. "Aminales en mi agua" I explained, and was understood. She produced a yellow bottle of stuff to throw down the well, showed me how much we needed to use.

So, well disinfected, I then had to climb on the roof and clean out the main water tank - no leeches actually in the tank, and hopefully no more now we'd put the stuff down the well. I didn't mention it to the girls.


I also painted the front lintel of the casa - back up the ladder again! 12 or 15 feet up, I was very careful to ensure the ladder was well seated, that I had a proper hook for the paint so I was stable and safe. I fixed the gutter too and trimmed the bougainvilla. I enjoyed it! Actually, it was more fun that lying on the beach, but the beach time was what the girls wanted. They did paint the well though. And the beach time did give me time to write - every day I did a 'diary' (far too long for the blog) so I have a record of the week.

We ate at Can Pedro's, a nice restaurant with traditional Mallorcan food. The first night we ate at Pedro I and the waiter added an extra drink and a non-existent dish to our bill which I challenged! Immediately rectified (and not reassuring at all, this had always been such a good restaurant). The second time we at at Pedro II (a second restaurant in the same time with the same owner) and this was much better. The girls looked great and turned heads yet again. Only 13 and looking (according to a 30 year old chap on the beach) "21, like Cameron Diaz". Very flattering, but maybe just a little scary too. The girls don't realise just how adult they look, how they may be mistaken for older girlst. I worry, but what can you do? Just watch, warn, and hope.

So, by the end of the week I had a tan, an understanding of how to kill well leeches, a paint-covered tee shirt and a throbbing finger where it was stabbed by the prickle from a palm leaf. The flight back was easy, the three of us sitting together this time. The man in the seats (he was alone in the row) had his headphones on and the 'chingkachingka' sound was starting to drive me crazy, but we got home in good time.

The jasmine smelled good at the casa, the sun was warm, and the sea (though I did not go in) a welcome sound. It was good to see my mother, to watch the girls playing bat and ball on the beach and to practice my awful Spanish, but it was good to get home - to Bryan, Alex, and hot and cold running (leech-free) water.

Lunch is served!

We meet Stewkey, the singing greyhound

Our friends Sam and Charlie (the former is female) invited us round for a roast lamb lunch. Sounded good, though Bryan insisted on salad (and his diet is going very well thank you) with his. Though a little crowded round the table, their two dogs - Ted the Terrier and Stewkey the Greyhound - sat patiently on the sofa behind us as we ate. Stewkey could smell the meat and his jowels quivered at the succulent aroma.

We were served wine with a strawberry in each glass (class or what!) and enjoyed a meal with good chat, good company and good food. Stewkey and Ted are a matching pair - how can a greyhound and something a litle like a Jack Russell be a pair? Their coats are the same, white with mottled brown and black. So one looks like a 'mini-me' of the other. But Stewkey regaled us with a hitherto unknown talent - he could sing!

"Come on Stewkey" said Sam, and he sang. He put his slender snout into the air and howled most musically. Ted, on the other hand, could do nothing but yap - a poor comparison.

After lunch we were given a demonstration of the Wii - an electronic gaming console that was quite fun. Bryan tried tennis and golf and I tried the boxing game. It didn't react fast enough for me (I guess all that karate has given me a decent speed punch) but it was fun. Dominic, their hyperactive son, was of course the expert.

Return to Rougham

In which I meet a man with a horse and play with my husband

Previous posts describe some of my past gigs at Rougham airfield - that little patch of England that is fighting off the compulsory purchase orders from the Council through the relentless efforts of the land-owner.

By running public events on the airfield, which was one of the many small airfields used by US troops during World War II, the Council can not purchase the land and build houses all over it. It would be a shame to lose this small airfield, and the events that it plays host to are many and varied. I have stood on that field and watched WWII planes fly over the heads of medieval knights doing battle.

We have played to pirates and knights, strippers and goats ... so a return to Rougham would, of course, provide fodder for my blog.

The gig was, as per usual, to entertain the stall holders and entertainers from the day. This event was 'Ploughs to Propellers' so the day had included airplanes, model airplanes and - of course - the medieveal re-enactment group, Swords of Chivalry. This was also the first gig that Bryan and I had played together for months and months. Now we play in our own separate bands, we very rarely play together. So - were we well rehearsed? Goodness no! We didn't need it - Penni and Bryan play together often enough and Baz and I just do our thing behind them. Ah - musically that is!

Bryan and I drove onto the airfield in the dark and we could see the shadow of tanks (yes, tanks - which are niether ploughs nor propellors, but then again nor are medieval knights). We arrived at the tent and set up on the small stage, Baz on drums in the middle, me on Baz's left, Bryan far right and Penni sort of in the middle.

The bar in the tent had real ale and ... delight! ... real cider. Only the one and at 7% it was powerful stuff, but tasty (not too bitter like some high alcohol content ciders). Once we had set up we started to play - our usual mix of folk and Penni's own material. I played my wonderful stand up bass all evening and had a terrific time. Playing, singing backing vocals, sparking off Baz and Bryan we we picked different rhythms and accents - as naturally as if we had been well rehearsed. The audience (which were on side) had a ball too.

We played from 8 till about 11 but didn't have time to eat. Some kind soul brought us a plate with two sausage rolls, four jam tarts and about six fruit scones. Alys (Penni's daughter) took one sausage roll to Bryan, whilst I scoffed some scones (did Penni eat any? No idea). The second sausage roll was consumed by Baz - by playing the bass percussively with one hand I managed to feed him the sausage roll with the other - so neither of us stopped playing whilst we ate. Live on stage! Feed the drummer...

Tall Tom (I guess he's about six foot six) was wearing a long black 'Sherlock Holmes' type coat, black leather trousers and a black teeshirt with little silver wings printed on the back. He is a good looking fella (and knows it) but always a laugh. He's one of the knights, and alon with the others they are people I have got to know over the last couple of years. It's a bit different since Penni left her partner who is one of the group, but all friendly.

In one of our brief intervals Tall Tom and I switched coats - my long leather coat looked too good on him, and I looked like a waif in his (it weighed a ton too). In our first interval a good Suffolk chap came and said he liked our 'pop music' though it wasn't usually his thing. He told me he had brought his shire horse for the ploughing, with his home-made harrow that he'd fashioned from chains. His shire horse is black with three white legs. He'd bought him to ride originally. I tried to imagine this portly, flat-capped man on the horse. He was wearing an old coat, a dirty jumper and I notied his nails were short and his hands blackened through work (probably handling the acoutrements that go with ploughing I guess). He talked in a broad Suffolk accent and obviously loved his horse, describing the old boy's excitement (the horse is 25) at the event.

Old Tom (as opposed to Tall Tom) is another Suffolk lad and a regular at the events, marshalling. He's very shy, very quiet, but a lovely man. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek which I took as a great compliment. The last time I saw him Penni told me that I was honoured that he talked to me - he's that shy and reticent.

The landowner and host of the event (John) was there too - it was good to see him again. I'd missed visiting the shows this summer (though every event up till then had been rained upon heavily) and consequently missed the medieval crew, John and the general madness that these events engender.

Not quite as crazy as some events we've played at - but I did wonder why those dressed as SS Officers and German Tank Crew had not changed out of their costumes, and why one woman was dressed as a cowgirl (including six shooter at her hip).

The best bit was the playing (though the cider was good - did I mention the cider?!) - the natural ease with which we play together is so enjoyable. I love playing with Baz, and such a nice change to play with Bryan (and Penni) too. I enjoyed my return to Rougham. Would be good to play there again next year.

A visit to the Clothmakers

In which I meet a man without a finger and am gifted a teasel

I joined the 'Telegraph Business Club' - a simple on-line business networking group. One day they sent me an invitation to a seminar on 'building your brand' and I thought, hey - that sounds good. So I booked.

It started at 8.15 am in London at the Clothmakers Hall, and that meant a 5.30am rise for me. Ohhh... I don't do 'early' (or 'late') that well. But hey ho, I caught the 6.23 train to Kings Cross and made it to Aldwych in good time. The London rush hour - what fun!

A bit of early networking was engaged upon, but what interested me was the building. The Clothworkers Hall... this was the 6th one! Due to many a disaster (the last being the 2nd world war) the buildings had been demolished or changed until here we stood in building number six. The place looked authentic - lots of wood panelling, a wonderful plaster ceiling, and some interesting historical momentoes in glass cases in the atrium. I saw the melted remains of a champagne bottle from the 5th hall, bombed in the 1940s, and an indenture form from the 18th Century of some young man apprenticed to the trade. The old guilds survive, in their fashion, and its always an interesting slice of history when we get to visit such places.

The seminar itself was great, the speaker from a major computing company the most interesting in my opinion. One part of the seminar was a case study, and as a table we discussed options on how to promote a web business. The opinion on the table was that the proposition wasn't really a flyer, but we still had some good ideas to share. Each table (about 15, plus chairs at the back - a packed house) had a spokesman to deliver their prognosis: ours was a young man called Damien, an Australian. I noticed, as he talked, that he only had three fingers on his left hand. I wondered what story lay behind that.

On the way out (having eaten lunch and done some appropriate networking), I stopped and said to the concierge how I had enjoyed visiting the hall. He handed me a teasel head - the prickly seed head of a common british weed I suppose. But in the display cabinets I had seen the teasels bound together to form a brush, an original way of 'teasing' the cloth to give it 'fluff'. I don't know the technicalities - but now I have my own teasel head to remember this visit by.

Great Aunty Betty

We take the briefest sojourn into my extensive family history

Great, isn't she? That's 'Betsy Sheppard' - no, I never actually knew her (and can't quite work out where she fits in the family tree either) but wow, what a picture!

I have a very interesting family tree - and I also have two humungous leather bound tomes that contain the family history right back to Charlemagne I think (yep, I'm a Norman!). I really should spend some time looking at it and interpreting some of the hand-written stories that Elizabeth Sheppard (no, not Bestsy, this one was around 1873 I think - must go check!) had so carefully written.

The books are amazing - about 20" high, 10" wide and 3" deep and they contain Sheppard Family History, Coxe Family History and links to Royalty, Scallywags (no doubt) and Chamberlaynes. They are also loaded with amazing pictures; photographs and watercolours. Great Grandfather was a good watercolourist and I have many of his paintings framed and on our walls. In the Histories are pictures of the Old Mill at Bathwick, Marlborough Gardens in Bath, and our original 'family seat', Gatcombe Park.

One of my most prized posessions though is his sketchbook - full of little pictures depicting Georgian life; parlour games, visits to the countryside, parties... all intimate and sometimes scribled out or amended. Real. A wonderful insight into a history that now seems so remote. But, with these pictures in my hands, and items from the sketches (such as a silver samovar) still residing in my house, it's a tangible history.

Shiny awards, stimulating conversation

In which we get to dress up and meet a Norfolk Pirate

On the 27th September I had a date - a date with Jeremy. He was dressed up to the nines, dinner suit, bow tie, cummerbund - well smart. I had to dress up too (but I wore a dress, don't have a dinner suit). We were off to an Awards Ceremony. Yes, genuine deal - stage, celebrity presenter (the athlete Colin Jackson) and bits of shiny steel to be presented to those lucky enough to have qualified for the National Training Awards.

I'm 'back office' - so how come it was me with Jeremy (award winning trainer!) at the awards? Denise (the client) and I that spent hours collating information and putting together the entry for the award. So it was only fair that we went to the award ceremony (Denise brought her team, her husband and a delegate from the course too - from a primary school in Essex).

Jeremy took me home from work and changed at our house; "you both look gorgeous" Melody said as she took a photo of us in the kitched. "Straight on" I said to Jeremy, directing him to the Guildhall in Cambridge. And he turned left. EH??!!! We went round the roundabout and back again. We arrived at the Guildhall and made conversation ("I hate networking" Jeremy said, but I made him do it anyway). I talked to a young man from Essex, an electrical engineer. He was there purely as partner to one of the award nominees. A nice lad, very excited that his partner was four months pregnant. We talked about cycling and fibre optic cable production techniques. Our colleagues from the client that we partnered for the award arrived, so we had 'friends' in the crowd who we were sharing a table with.

We won a Regional Award which is pretty special in our business, so we were very pleased. The PR game now begins! We can put on our headed paper that we're winners, so its a really good endorsement of our company. Yeah, I know we're good, now I can put something in our marketing materials that says other people know we are good too!

It takes something to get me into a dress, but it was worth it. We had a superb meal and went through all the 'pre announcement nerves' as anticipated (but no bursting into tears or anything so melodramatic). It was a good evening, Jeremy and the clients with whom we partnered to win the award, were good company too. We texted our colleagues and many replied to wish us congratulations (hey, they won it too) but our boss phoned from Morocco to say well done. Cool.

That was the Thursday. On Saturday Shani, Nickie and I went out to dinner with another colleague (also a trainer like Jeremy), Sue. She lives in Maldon, on the Blackwater Estuary in Essex. Well, as Shani an Nic have been known to be a little late on occasion, and this was a long journey, I scheduled in plenty of time. We arrived early and went down to the quay to while away some time before arriving at our host's. It was Regatta Day - the quay was littered with huge Thames Barges (I don't know, maybe they are always there?) and we looked over the estuary as the sun went down amidst a clutter of masts. Amazing things - many over 100 years old - huge, broad and shallow drafted. We walked slowly along the quay away from the hubbub of the Regatta. Two men walked behind us. We stopped, turned to photograph the sun behind the church. One of the men stopped too. "Well, come on then, if you want to take a photo of me!" So we did, in good humour, and exchanged a few words. He spoke with a Norfolk accent but, for some reason, in the manner of a pirate! Aharrr me hearties... we wuz by the sea after all.

We spent an extremely pleasant evening with Sue, enjoying good food, good company and many interesting subjects of conversation. We talked of politics, religion, the world, music, people... not about work at all. Shani and I sang some songs too, relaxed, quiet, pleasant. Sue sang along whilst Nickie tried to stay awake (two LARGE whiskies...) and Shani and I enjoyed an impromptu practice.

The journey home was long, late but pleasant. Again interesting conversation - kept me awake too. We also started singing a bit, which caused Nickie (in the back) to hunker down and wish she was actually asleep.

Home at 2.30am. A long night, but well worth it. Tall masts, stimulating conversation, Essex sunset, and a good long run in my new car.

PS: I will get some pictures on these posts soon!

To the gentle sound of Formula One...

In which 'the team' plays away from home and we sing 'Fiddler on the Roof' (badly)

My employers arrange an annual 'away weekend' which focuses on company strategy, some training and - importantly - some quality 'bonding' time (bonding, not bondage! OK?).

This year we travelled to a massive hotel and conference facility complex near to Silverstone race track - the hotel had displays of really fascinating things like... photos of racing drivers and (yaaaawwwnnnn...) well, I forget what else.

Our first event of the day (having negotiated traffic to the accompaniment of Israeli rock music on the CD player and enjoyed a welcome bacon sandwich) was a training 'demonstration' by two actors. They do a 'scene' and then welcome feedback from the audience - for example they do a difficult appraisal, and one of the two 'characters' will ask for feedback on what should happen next or what was wrong/right in the action. This is called forum theatre and does not involve role play by the audience - a factor which puts many people off participating in any kind of training like this. But, I have to say, it was extremely successful and generated lively debate. The 'late appearance' of two of the team was due to a Sat Nav... (hate the things! Maps and a brain is all you need!). "Not the sat nav," my colleague said.... "my fat fingers typing in the wrong postcode!".

The noise from the racetrack was audible when we opened the windows in the hot training room. "Can we shut that noise up?" the boss asked. No - it's Silverstone Race Track. Usually she gets her own way, but this once she conceded that perhaps sending someone out to ask them to be quiet may be a lost cause.

After lunch we had a session on communication followed by planning for the future through time-lining. At the end of this each department had to present on their areas and periods (in other words, Marketing had to do three presentations, on the last quarter of this year, 2008 and 2009). With my newly acquired colleague, Lucy, we'd done lots of work and had all sorts of plans in place, but it made sense for mem to present. Had to be short, sharp and meaningful. I have absolutely no idea why I did it - but I presented the first and last sections in rhyme! Poor Lucy - she'd only met me once at a lunch, and now she had spent an afternoon with me and the team and I'd 'rapped up' marketing in a rather unusual fashion. We packed up pretty promptly so folks could enjoy the spa and swimming pool and generally chill before supper. I managed to do none of that - I had a nice bath and sat and played guitar quietly in my room.

We had a brief champagne reception with the bosses, then down to supper where we had the usual 'three around three' (which is not only the name of a traditional UK folk dance, but also how we shift ourselves round in between each course so that you get to sit next to different people and 'mix'. It works very well - with us - because of the kind of team we are. I had some interesting conversations and some nice food. Then (after copious amounts of wine had been consumed and I have to say, for a change, not by me!) it was suggested that Shani and I fetch our instruments. Let the fun and games commence!

Shani and I do not play standards, we play our own brand of acoustic rock/folk/indie schmindie heaven knows what! But, at a gathering like this - they want sing-a-long. We started with one of our own songs to 'wake up' the audience and then we went full tilt into .... well, into a melee. As the wine consumption increased, so did the audience participation. This was no way a 'performance' by us - it was a 'facilitation'. We 'facilitated' the performance of some interesting vocal duets including 'American Pie' and 'Summer Loving' (very noisy, enthusiastic and almost unbelivably hysterical) and some interesting solos too. Shani and I just played along with whatever was requested to the best of our ability (including Hava Nagila, which I could play, amazingly, having not even sung it for over 30 years). I have to say, though, the highlight was a version of 'I am the Music Man' which included impersonations of staff members. Highly non-PC, but extremely funny. One thing I did notice was Lucy's face - she's not even started with the company officially yet - and she's been 'baptised by fire' (or by whatever means you can use to describe our extreme story telling/song singing/camerarderie based culture).

As we played we realised that we desperately needed a different song book - the few songs we could play along with (The Boxer, Toucha-Toucha-Touch Me, and some other highly non-memorable stuff) we realised that what we needed was not fully within our grasp - a book of show stoppers and musical hits... yes, not what we intend to do with our musical careers, but for occasions like this, certainly what we need.

As the singing degenerated (my audience split into two part harmonies failed miserably) we packed up at 11 and left the room - and drifting from the room we had departed came three part harmonies of Mustang Sally!

That was about it for me - some folks had gone off to play cards, and some went to bed early whilst some stayed up till 3 am drinking! (no way, with training in the morning!?) The morning session featured a culture audit - and one thing is evident, our people like each other. The anaysis was an interesting exercise and the expected different perspectives from different groups within the organisation emerged, but overall the feeling is still that the company I work for has a strong supportive culture.

The next few months are going to be very interesting for Lucy and I. Lots of changes ahead, lots to achieve, and lots and lots of fun. But I promise, no more rhyming presentations!

Return to Lloyds

Or, 'at least this time I didn't look like an overweight Pocahontas though I did see the 1907 Loss Book...'

The reason I visited Lloyds before (see Fish out of Water) was in preparation for an event - an event which took place last night. Our MD speaks at these high falutin' events for women's development (the whole idea is we get names for our database, of course!) and I have to say it was a terrific success.

My previous observations on the Lloyds building were not that complimentary, but - I have to say - the place grew on me. We were in the Old Library downstairs - oak panels, carvings, and a most severe looking Founder of Lloyds peering at us from the alcove, in his preserved, oil-painted state. We had around 100 young women (and three men too) from the Insurance industry ready to listen to the 'great and the good'. The content was pitched just right for the audience and my boss made a superb interview/host/facilitator. And how she handled the support staff too (yes, there were a few problems of course!) was admirable.

But me - I'd set the whole thing up and I must confess I'd missed a trick or two. Drinks on arrival? For some reason I had it firmly in my head we'd decided against it. So when my boss asked for welcoming drinks, I said no, we hand't arranged it. But, after three askings (and she used my colleague to ask me - perhaps my unusual stubborness was more than a little out of character so I wasn't in a very receptive mood) I thought 'well, it's what she wants, it makes sense, do it!'. And I got the drinks sorted (just in time) and the guests were happy and tra la laa... it all went swimmingly.

Mind you - not completely. PA. Dread PA. 'Dave' tested everything for me first off - four lapel mics, three hand-helds. Four clip ons for the panel, hand held for the host (my boss) and two for questions from the floor. All worked fine. Comes to wiring up the panel and zero, zilch! One of the lapel mics went on strike. "I always do this" the speaker said. Aha! One of those people who carry their own electrical field round, specifically to flummox sound engineers and hapless marketing managers who think they can handle these things! One speaker used a hand-held.

My boss was instructed exactly how far to hold the mic from her mouth - 'boob height' she said, tucking her arm neatly below one side and maintaining perfect distance for optimum sound. However, as soon as she was up and talking (with a room full of people), that went out the window. She held the mic right near her mouth - and subsequently her volume was somewhat more prominent than the rest of the panel. Oh well!

After the discussion (great stuff about women being successful in insurance - it is possible!) there was the 'networking' bit. Now, in a room full of women from banking and finance, I have one major disadvantage. I know sod all about banking and finance! But hey ho - I was there to work, not to enjoy myself. I met one lady from a Middle Eastern bank and we chatted for quite a while. "Shame we can't see the trading floor..." she mentioned, as we talked with one of the Lloyds hosts.

Well, you got it! She and I got a sneak visit (no way they could take all the rest of the visitors up two flights of escalators and un-guided into the trading area). We saw the Lutine Bell, the Loss book for 2007 (they still write in it using quill and ink!) and the Loss book for 1907. They always have the book from 100 years ago next to the current year. They'd had an open day the previous afternoon and had the Titanic Register out (but that was locked back in some vault somewhere).

That's when I thought actually, this building ain't so bad. Despite looking like tin cans from the outside, the high interior and the open plan trading floor was actually quite restful. During the day a hive of activity, I'm sure, but despite the lights (everywhere - can you imagine trying to balance the environment in a building like that with a varying populace of anything form 600 to 2,000 people inside at any one time?) it was a welcoming, comfortable place of work.

I like these insights into places you may not ordinarily see. I like to see them when they are resting, as well as when they are busy. I liked talking to the catering manager (who had worked there for 13 years) and hearing about the Adam Room and the history (which he knew intimately) of the buildings. I enjoyed meeting different people, though I had virtually nothing in common with any of them other than our presence at this event.

The journey home (arrived by train) was with a colleague. She talked, I listened; I talked, she listened. We are very different people but we work well together. We have very different lives, but an understanding. At half past ten in the evening I got home. Tired, not exactly happy (why had I been so bloody stubborn about the drinks at the start of the evening?), but certainly pleased with the outcome of the event.

Next? Well, I probably won't be running the next event. My new 'Buzz Lightyear' colleague will be responsible(she's Buzz, I'm Woody). I will miss the visits to unusual places (for me) and meeting some intersting people, but not the hassle of - no matter how hard I try - never ever quite getting it right for my boss.