Sunrise while out jogging

 There have been very few times in my life that I wished I was a poet, but this morning's jog through Sefton Park was one of them. Here is the prose version.

The sun was still below the horizon as the tops of the trees on Greenbank Drive caught the first golden rays of sunshine.

Ahead the clouds were a wonderful study of grey and blue hues, while to the south east, the sky was a  blaze of golden yellow.

Further into the park and there was the sun, a yellow globe sitting on the horizon, visible behind the yellow sheen and the branches of the bare trees.

At the top end of the park the path is wide, and the balustrade low, but even so its shadow reached the full width of the path, while I and all around me were bathed in beautiful light.

The sun, still gentle on the eyes behind the sheen was now a white globe, sitting low but now detached from the horizon.

Not yet completed, the upper floor flats on my home stretch will afford their future residents a sunlit breakfast.

Sorry, but I don't take a camera with me when I am jogging.

Funeral & Celebration of Ann Pendray

Ann Elizabeth Pendray

22 November 1950 - 21 October 2022

You can view the Service of Thanksgiving & Celebration held at Frontline on 15 November 

 Video of the Service at Frontline

Sadly, the video taken at the Crematorium did not work.

You can read the text of my talks at the  Crematorium and at Frontline

Thank you for all who joined us on 15 November, and all those taking an interest here.

 

Ann Pendray - My Talk at the Celebration

In 1950, when there was, like now, a King on the throne, my father-in-law, Charles Milnes, turned back while climbing Snowdon, to ask his wife why she not keeping up? That was the first occasion when Ann, and her twin sister Carol were making their presence in the world known.  After 10 years of marriage Mary discovered she was pregnant one month, learned that it was twins the next, and the following month gave birth, two breech presentations. Well Done Mary!

After one year the family left the small flat over a shoe shop in Southport, and took a rented cottage in Trevor, north of Llangollen, as Charles got a better paid job at the electricity board.  Ann remembers a carefree childhood, roaming over the hills with her sister, attending primary school in the next door village of Garth.  She remembered the staff carrying them on their shoulders when the snow lay higher than they were.

Every now and again Charles would take them to Chester, and Mary would wave them off saying “Don’t you go spoiling them and buying them new frocks” but Ann’s recollection was that they always came home with a new dress each.  

Later they bought their first house, in Chirk, and Ann thrived at Ruabon grammar school, being particularly inspired by a French teacher, and going on to become head girl.  This was despite, by her account, blowing out the windows of the chemistry lab earlier in her time there, and despite being English during a revival of Welsh nationalism.

Ann felt that the swinging sixties largely passed them by, living some distance from the school; they saw little of their neighbours, and less of their school mates outside school. She also described feeling lonely at university, although she did make a handful of lifelong friends at the time.   Unlike at school, the French teaching at Liverpool University disappointed her.  She did have an exciting year in France, choosing to go alone to the university in Aix-en-Provence in preference to others where groups of course colleagues were.

After university she worked briefly for the electricity board and as a librarian before the major breakdown that saw her hospitalised for several years in her twenties. I am grateful to Nic who will say a little more about this episode of Ann’s life. I met Ann as she was in and out of hospital, aware that life for Ann was hard, and had been truly awful.

 

So I have chosen this picture to remind me that not all of Ann’s life before I met her was awful.

 So Ann and I met. It was not exactly love at first sight, but as a group of us were enjoying a Sunday afternoon walk I remember giving her a piggyback, so there was a spark of something right from our first meeting.

It was a stormy time of Ann’s life, in and out of hospital. I especially recall two conversations when I felt my heart really drawn to her, one was in her parents back sitting room, and the other was on chairs placed in the sunshine for us outside ward 28, the psychiatric ward, at Sefton General Hospital, where the Asda is now.  

But gradually life calmed down, and as the picture shows, we were married. How happy we were. When we stopped for tea on the journey the next day, they would not let us pay our bill, they could tell we were just married!

Ann was a wonderful mother, nurturing the children and giving them a breadth of experiences, but life for her was still incredibly hard. Ann developed agoraphobia, and was hospitalised with anxiety and depression on three occasions, the first abruptly ending our honeymoon, and the last interrupting her first term as a teacher.

Our holidays, though limited by her agoraphobia, were always refreshing and we enjoyed the fun we had without considering that we were missing out at all.

Our marriage at that time felt very brittle. We did not have the understanding or appreciation of God’s grace that He has given us over the years, and the marriage was not the strong comfortable relationship it later came to be.  In a recent conversation we struggled to think of anything good about the those early years.

I have chosen this picture (above)(for the order of service) as it shows us both smiling, which is more than this (next) one does. 

But this is the one I really wanted, to remind me that we did love each other, even in those early difficult years.

Now we move on to the time when Ann became a teacher.

She has half a GCSE in double science. She volunteered as a parent helper at Christian Fellowship School, and when they opened up GCSE classes to parents alongside years 10 and 11, Ann started studying science, and was doing very well.

However that stopped after one year, when she became a member of staff, filling a vacancy teaching French.  Over the course of fifteen years she took on other responsibilities, as a class teacher, teaching PSHE, which included sex education, and becoming safeguarding lead.  She co-led a combined French language and history school trip.  So far as I can tell, most pupils found her caring and inspiring.

Her time as a teacher was bookended by care for family members. Her father Charles died two years before Mary, who lived with us for the last 12 months, after her cancer diagnosis. Later, Carol’s husband died two years before her, and Ann saw her regularly during those two years.

It was also a time when she developed her interest in art, studying city & guilds courses, first in felt-making, and then in embroidery. Her love of the garden flourished at that time, when she could remember the names of all her plants with ease. She also enjoyed her bonfires.

(In the Order of Service) in place of the picture (above), I nearly chose this one, because it shows Ann as a teacher in France on a school trip, touring a small chocolate factory.

But the one I really wanted was this one. I think it was the only time Ann was with me on a boat I had charge of.

Her teaching career ended abruptly with her secondary breast cancer diagnosis in 2013, and I spoke at the crematorium of the wonder that she should have lived a further nine years. What years they were - making new friends, becoming a grandmother, sending aid to Syrian refugees, travelling in England Europe and America.

 This (above) is a lovely picture of Ann in 2015, but the one I really wanted, from that same year, was this, which speaks to me about Ann in so many ways.  

First of all, she was wearing that cardigan, and she did really love that cardigan.  It speaks to me of her becoming a grandmother and of her love of family, as it was taken in America, where we had gone so that she could spend time with Kim while she was pregnant with Jedidiah.  It pictures her knitting, and she has recently been teaching Jedidiah to knit.

It also represents the high point of her victory over agoraphobia. She had regained most of her life, travelled on motorways again, had led a school trip underground on the Paris Metro, and then in 2010 she dreamed that she could fly again.  We did indeed fly, with two friends to Nice in 2011 and with friends to Chicago for John & Kim’s wedding in 2012. On this 2015 trip, I stayed only 12 days and Ann stayed on choosing to travel back by herself. It was a remarkable achievement.

When this picture was posted on Facebook, a friend of John & Kim’s arranged to come and knit with Ann, and developed a friendship over the four weeks of Ann’s stay. So this picture speaks to me of all the people who got to know Ann through her love of knitting fabric sewing and her other other craft interests. There are many here today.

 

Four Pictures that made it into the Order of Service

I have spoken of Ann’s early life, our early marriage, her teaching, and her retirement.

My plan was for the order of service to have only four pictures, but this last picture chose itself.

Ann lived life to the full, thankful for, and enjoying every day that God gave her. In her final few weeks she met many of her friends, and indeed, her English grandsons.  This picture shows her with them on Wednesday afternoon, just two days before she died, enjoying every moment.

Ann Pendray - My talk at the Crematorium

When we get to the Celebration later on, I hope to speak a little about Ann’s life. For now, what I have to say is more about her illness and death.

When Ann was told she had an incurable cancer about this time in 2013, her first reaction was to pray to God. She was immediately filled with an overwhelming sense of thankfulness. She prayed a second time, and again her spirit was flooded with thanksgiving.

She was ready to die, she told me. She thought her art had peaked, and she had found a successor for her position teaching French at Christian Fellowship School. It was hard on the children, but they had faith, and would have to dig deep. She always thought she would want to see the seaside one more time, but the wall outside her window seemed to be everything she needed.

Such acceptance on her part made it easier for the rest of us to come to terms with such appalling news.

Ann never prayed for healing for herself, she was happy enough when others prayed for her healing, but she never asked them to.  She had known others who had been in faith for healing, and it seemed to her a failure when they died.  She wanted to die with a sense of thanksgiving.

In the meantime I was praying. It looked very likely that she might die before Christmas, and I was praying she would recover and that we would enjoy a few months together in 2014 before she died.  

But God, it says in Ephesians, is able to do far more abundantly than we can ask or even imagine, and we never imagined that she would live to meet five grandsons and be watching the waves on the Yorkshire coast in August 2022.

Ann told a friend recently that, excepting for childbirth, the last 9 years were probably the best of her life. In this, she was helped by three wonderful groups of people.

She received and gave support in the on-line secondary breast cancer group, especially in the early days, and we met up occasionally, including us husbands. I met some great people.

Sixty Million Trebles, another on-line group, that meets up once each year, drew its name from the measure of blankets they initially sent out for Syrians in refugee camps. Since then they have sent many more, and other goods, and raised over twenty thousand pounds to renovate 28 war damaged schools in Syria.

Ann has found the Knit & Natter group at Calderstones to be the most inclusive group she has ever been part of. She did not expect to be making new friends at that time of life, but that is exactly what has happened.

And what amazing friends. Just as an example…When the bag holding Ann’s syringe driver fell apart, they did not make just one new bag. They rifled through Ann’s fabric box and made 30 bright colourful syringe driver bags, and now the district nurses are giving them out to their other patients.

From mid September the syringe driver meant that Ann was confined to the house, but those weeks have been amazing.

John and Kim were able to visit from America and spend eight days, without their children, and get lots of good conversations, and not a few tears, and we had a great family photo-shoot.

Ann established a wonderful rapport with all the district nurses and carers who came to the house, and had some really good conversations. She also received visits from many friends, some of whom she had not seen in months and even years.  

She would have loved to live another 20 years, but was thankful for life, which she lived to the full.  Even last Wednesday, the reading group met, and Ann was on especially good form, as those there will remember.

The following day was different. After nine years of living with cancer, Ann was now dying of cancer. It was not drawn out.

Do you feel sad when someone dies? I have to say I did not there and then. It was so peaceful. I felt buoyed up by all the love around us, and so thankful that we had been able to give her what she wanted. She wanted to die at home, with family around her, me holding her hand, and with that same sense of thankfulness that God had given her when she prayed nine years ago.

Mike Pendray

An Act of Kindness

 The other day I was clearing leaves from the driveway and pavement (US = sidewalk) and started by putting some items of rubbish in the bin.

A passer-by noticed me picking up items by hand, but said nothing at the time. Today this kind lady returned and gave me this gift, so I can avoid touching and risking infection from the items that get blown in.

How wonderful,  how thoughtful.

A Genesis 12:3 moment.

How to draw a face

I have been learning the lessons at Rapid Fire Art.
I followed the instructions for beginners which are here
I found another lesson that said "don't give up until after three or four attempts", so I persevered and here are the first seven attempts.

I hope they are getting better!
Thanks again to Rapid Fire Art

Deck the Hall

A warm and appreciative audience filled the baronial hall at the Ullet Road Unitarian Church on Friday, to enjoy the Christmas Celebration hosted by Liverpool Voice.

The evening was entitled ‘Deck the Hall’ and this was the song that got the evening off to a brisk start.  The programme moved on to ‘Wassail’ which turned out be be quite a theme for the first half. There were no less than three wassailing songs in all, and a reading that explained the two wassailing traditions - singing door to door round the village; and blessing the apple trees with toast. In the Gloucestershire Wassail, a traditional carol collected by Vaughan Williams, the verses were sung by three men in cloth caps enjoying the odd swig of ale from a wassail tankard.

Before this there were some serious carols, including the ‘Angel’s Carol’ by John Rutter, and one that was possibly the high point of the evening, ‘The Snow’ by Edward Elgar set to a poem by his wife Alice. For this piece, definitely seasonal but not actually about Christmas, the choir and piano accompanist were joined by three further musicians on violin flute and cello. It added up to a rich performance of a beautiful piece.

Ian & Lucy Gilchrist accompanied several pieces throughout the evening, Ian swapping between the flute and the double bass.  As well as Sophia on violin for ‘The Snow’, they were joined at points by Martin on the concertina, and Trombone, and Elspeth on accordion.

The trombone made an appearance for ‘While shepherds watched’ not to the traditional tune, but ‘Cranbrook’, a tune perhaps best known as ‘On Ilkley Moor bar tat’. It was a lot of fun.

Other than verses sung by various choir members, Andrea, Corrine, Erik, Jo, Lucas, Martin, Tim,  and Brenda and Jan later in the medley, there was just one solo piece, 'Babe of Bethlehem' sung by Kim Ford.

The first half was rounded off by the arrival of Santa Claus, who regaled the audience with the twelve days of Christmas, joined by the choir for just one line in each verse - ‘Five Gold Rings’

Fortified by mulled wine and mince pies served during the interval by Santa (Phil Waldron, the Unitarian church minister) and his helpers, and warmed by the real fire in the fire place, the audience took their seats for the second half, which got off to a crisp start with ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’. Next came ‘Gaudete’ for which John McHugh, the accompanist picked up his guitar.

The Conductor and Choir Artistic Director, Lesley Bentley, introduced each piece, often with a brief description of its origin and background.

Just as in the first half, there was a single reading, this time an extract from a poem by Carol Ann Duffy about the Christmas day truce between the trenches in World War One, which introduced ‘Silent Night’ with the first verse sung, as in the poem, in German.

The audience joined in towards the end of the evening, with the Christmas songs medley, Jingle Bells, Winter Wonderland and the like, and with O Come All Ye Faithful, before the final number ‘We wish you a Merry Christmas’ - a rousing ending to a wonderful evening.

Liverpool Voice rehearses on Thursday Evenings in South Liverpool and the Artistic Director is Lesley Bentley, formerly Director of Arts College at Notre Dame Catholic College for the Arts. Choir members have a range of musical ability training and experience, Rehearsals are friendly and purposeful. The choir is always looking out for new members, although you may be asked to delay joining shortly before a performance, or to maintain a balance of voices. Currently here is a need for tenors and basses. The contact details for potential members or for performance enquiries is 07901349080 or info@liverpoolvoice.com

How to Stay Trim

Having managed to stay reasonably in trim through to late middle age, I thought it was worth setting out the guidelines that I think have helped me stay that way.

1. Eat and Drink Whatever You Want.  
I get to enjoy all the food and drink I like, but there are some that I try to keep to weekends and holidays. Regular episodes of rich plentiful food may serve to raise my cell metabolism, I can't be sure.  It does help me stay motivated during the week and it makes it an ongoing lifestyle, rather than a short term fix that will go into reverse later.

2. Drink Water, Eat Vegetables.
During the week, as much as possible, but without being awkward or unsociable, I try to avoid beer, wine, spirits, lemonade, crisps, salted snacks, sweet biscuits, cakes, pastries, pies, burgers, pizzas and chips (fries).  Like Daniel and his friends in exile in Babylon, I drink water and eat vegetables.  Except that I also eat meat, fish, eggs, milk, cheese, yogurt, fruit, and drink tea coffee and fruit juice.

3. Eat Small Portion Sizes.
It is good to educate your stomach to expect sensible sized portions. I came relatively late to this. I used to eat up what was on the table unless a meal sized portion could be stored in the fridge. Now even snack sized portions get put aside for later. If I stop eating when I feel 70% full, I am usually quite satisfied later.  If I eat till I am stuffed I can feel over-faced later.

4. Exercise Daily. 
We are not talking hours of jogging to burn calories. I do go running, see the next paragraph. My (almost) daily routine is a short and sharp ten minutes before the morning shower, press ups and the like, without any weights or equipment. There are three aims; to raise the heartbeat (because fat and fit is better than skinny and unfit), to build strength (because muscles take more calories to maintain than fat), and stretches for posture (because carrying weight is less important than how well you carry it).

5. More Exercise.
I go hill walking, road cycling and dinghy sailing for fun. I run to stay healthy; rarely more than 5k, often but not always more frequently than once a week.  It probably helps, but the main purpose is not to lose weight, for that I would run shorter and faster, more like interval training. Nor is the main aim to run fast, I am content to jog round at a comfortable pace, which does gradually get faster if I keep at it regularly enough.

6. Drink Water, Eat an Apple.
I am quite happy to eat a snack between meals. I try to avoid grazing. Sitting near an open packet of crisps is not a good idea. When I feel hungry I always drink a glass of water; to the extent I have mistaken thirst for hunger it is problem solved. An apple is a good stopgap between meals, even more so with raisins, though sometimes cheese suits better. The aim is to have a significant snack and then stop, rather than return 10 or 20 minutes later.

7. Weigh yourself Daily.
You need to take daily variations with a pinch of salt, and delay notching up a milestone until two or so readings have confirmed it, but I find weighing myself daily quite motivating.  I step on the scales on the first visit to the bathroom in the morning. After that, I drink a 250ml glass of water and a mug of tea, so the measurement is already fiction before the day has properly begun.

8. Master the Art of Chocolate.
It is very easy to wolf down a whole bar of chocolate, but not that helpful. To enjoy chocolate more often it helps to eat just one or two lumps, probably buying a more expensive brand.  Similar considerations may apply to an extent, for beer, cheese and bread.

9. Enjoy Christmas Pudding & Mince Pies.
Long before Christmas, cheesecake and yogurt give way to treacle tart and rice pudding, and quite right too. A little extra insulation against the winter cold is no bad thing.

10. A Last Word.
About this dieting. Buy trousers with a wide waste, in case it does not work. Wear a belt, in case it does.

Understanding Revelation by Ken Allen

Understanding Revelation: A Guide to the End-Times. By Ken Allen

This book is an excellent introduction and guide to those wanting to study the book of Revelation.

The subject matter ensures it is not a light read, but the style helps.  Using clear simple concise language, the author describes, explains and illustrates the various imagery, concepts, and ideas.

It helps to have an open bible close to hand. There are many references to other books in the bible, which illustrate or explain the Revelation passages. I feel I learnt as much about the rest of the bible as I did about Revelation, and have come to see Revelation as continuing the bible story, rather than a book set apart.

A significant proportion of the book is comprised by the introduction. It is here that many of the key themes are introduced. Such a broad sweep of ideas can make it feel as if you have read a whole book in the introduction alone.

The book includes the complete text of Revelation, translated by the author from the Greek. This is a literal translation, with precise but unfamiliar grammatical construction, a helpful addition to more readable translations.

The author never sits on the fence, saying “some people think this, other people think that” Instead he presents a complete credible picture of how sometimes apparently contradictory passages may add up to a single coherent whole.  

In doing this he does not claim to be right, but recognises that all commentaries are written by men with imperfect understanding, encouraging us to read widely, read Revelation itself repeatedly, and ask God for understanding.

Before reading the book, I understood the second coming as a single event, but here the end times are presented as a series of episodes in which many prophesies, that we have yet seen only partially fulfilled, reach their complete and perfect fulfilment.

I found reading the book very faith affirming. Between reading sessions I found my heart full of praise, being more aware of the purposes and sovereignty of God as they are affirmed in the pages.

Alongside the explanations there are quiet observations about belief attitudes and practice prevalent in the church today. The language is not hard hitting but some of the observations can be quite telling.

If you find the Book of Revelation to be a mystery, this book may help turn it into the revelation it was always meant to be.

The book is available to buy on Amazon UK or Amazon.com

Ken Allen's web site

Small Island by Andrea Levy

This enjoyable book is currently very topical, as Gilbert Joseph arrives in London from Jamaica on the Windrush.
Jamaica is one of the larger Caribbean Islands, but when he returns there after serving in RAF during the war, Gilbert realises how small the Island is, and takes the opportunity to return to London as soon as he can. His wife Hortense joins him after a few weeks, when he has found a room to rent in the house run by Queenie Blyth, and finds 1948 post war London a drab and dreary place, after all the colour and vibrancy of Jamaica.
One of the features of this book is that each of the main characters tells their own story, but we also see how they are viewed by one other. In the opening chapter Hortense Gilbert is far from impressed by her husband, and in the next chapter we read what events conspired against Gilbert's best efforts to welcome Hortense to their new London home. It is quite comical.
Another feature of the book is that although the action takes place during a few days in 1948, much of the book's content has the characters telling us about "before". There are some childhood recollections, including life and education in Jamaica, but very largely it is describing events during the war.
For all the opening chapters make Joseph Gilbert look like a loser, he is an observant and able narrator, and we are treated to keen descriptions of racial tensions and prejudice both during the war and in the post war period.  For us white Brits, it is an uncomfortable read in places.
As the book progresses, we learn more about the main characters, how they met, and how it is they react in the way they do in 1948. The interplay of 1948 and before sets up some intriguing mysteries, some of which become clearer as the earlier stories are told.
The middle chapters are far from boring; there is plenty of action to keep us entertained, but it can feel a bit disparate, as each character tells their own story.  The final chapters on the other hand, are a masterpiece. Just as we have the measure of each character and think we know them, they surprise us again and again, chapter after chapter, to the end of the book.

Composting July 2018

Here are my observations about collecting the compost on Friday.

It is over three years since we have been using the hot-bin compost bin, you might think we would be experts by now.

As previously, I emptied material from the bin onto the ground, and then took a spade full or two at a time onto a tomato grow-bag sized tray, sifting through to remove unwanted material before tipping it into a 50 litre garden carrier.

What I removed was mainly - twigs, set aside to re-use; they help oxygen get to the composting process - tea bags,  to discard; it seems they are made of plastic as well as paper, - and stones, presumably from garden rather than kitchen waste. There was also a brass buckle.

What was left included a lot of eggshell fragments. I thought this would look unsightly, but even used as a top dressing, it looked okay.

I started the task in light drizzle, a bit of a rarity this summer, but it brightened up. I still ended up quite wet, from leaks and splashes using the hose to clear up.

I collected less this time than eleven months ago, hopefully I will continue with little and often. Including some additional tidying up, it took just under two hours.

By taking less, the remaining material stayed in place, making it easier to replace the door.  Later I pushed the material down while bracing the door with my knee.  The luggage straps holding the door closed had snapped since last time, and for now, the door has held good without them.

So that is it for a month or two, hopefully less than eleven.

Carlton Hotel International, Sorrento

This hotel has a lot going for it. It was great to arrive back mid afternoon and enjoy a swim in the pool, or enjoy sitting between the pool and the gardens, or by the bar.
The ground floor area was light, expansive, and decorated with generous quantities of marble, making it all cool and comfortable to be in when the weather was hot.
Being located just off Piazza Tasso made it ultra convenient for getting to all the shops trips restaurants and attractions.
Although we missed out on getting a room facing the front, with views across the bay of Naples to Vesuvius, we were very happy with the view from our balcony,  of the swimming pool and gardens, and of the mountains behind Sorrento.
Although it does not have a restaurant, there are any number within 5 minutes walk, including one very acceptable place literally next door.
The room was entirely adequate, with a good level of soundproofing; what we heard from neighbouring rooms was very muted indeed.
There was no kettle; the fridge was empty; the TV was small; it was a hunt to find the one power socket we could use to charge our phones; and we placed a spare blanket under the sheets to make the bed softer for Ann.
The shower was adequate, but the showerhead was fixed to the wall, making it inflexible and difficult to avoid the water before it got to temperature. It seems the whole bathroom was once a wet room; the advent of shower enclosure meant having to squeeze past the bidet to reach the toilet, which was not ideal for those of reduced mobility. On a similar note it was a significant step up into the  shower enclosure.
The breakfast room was spacious and airy with relaxed jazz playing as background music. The self service bar had boiled egg, cheese ham, yoghurt fruit cereal, and a wide selection of sweet breads and cakes, and fresh fruit. The coffee was served by waiters, sadly it was not always very hot.
We did not feel especially valued and welcomed, which was a shame. Several members of staff were very kind helpful and friendly on occasions, but the overall effect was a little impersonal. Perhaps we had been spoilt by staying previously in a smaller hotel. In part it was the location of the reception desk, way off to the left so there was no need to approach it unless you had a query.
The hotel entrance had two short flights of steps, with handrails too short for the top step in the first case. We were not made aware of any alternative entrance. The only toilets available from reception/bar/breakfast room were down one storey, with no lift access.
While by the pool I observed that what looked like an external fire escape was potentially dangerous being overrun with climbing plants. On closer inspection this was not a fire escape and the single central staircase is the sole means of escape for all 18 rooms on each floor. I was comforted that there was no wallpaper or carpets, just marble finishes, but I did note that the old lift, in the centre of the stairwell was housed in a wooden frame.

River Hotel, Florence

From the moment we arrived at the bottom of the stairs on the street in view of the reception desk, we were made to feel very welcome at the River Hotel.
They took our luggage, while one member of staff came round with us to the back door which gave us easy access to our ground floor room.
The decor throughout is a very modern, black and white design, with abstract art work breaking up what would otherwise be overly clinical. With LED lights around each doorway, it was very striking.
The room was very comfortable, and we slept well.  The wardrobe and drawers easily accommodated the contents of our cases. We did not make use of the well stocked mini bar, except to chill our own water bottle, but we did enjoy the the two tea bags of English breakfast tea, albeit without milk. There was large TV that we did not make use of.
The bathroom was bright and spacious, but suffered from having no shelf space. The shower was forceful by virtue of small holes in the showerhead rather than lots of water, but was entirely adequate, and had an adjustable hose. Access to the shower was easy, being on the same level as the bathroom floor. We think the extractor fan was working, but the bathroom steamed up somewhat, but with substantial shutters, opening the window was very feasible.
Although there is a lift, the breakfast room and restaurant is down a further half flight of stairs. Half the tables were awkward to reach, squeezing between tables when the room was full at breakfast. The breakfast bar had a wide variety of items, including scrambled egg and bacon, cheese and ham, yoghurt and fruit. The layout was a little confusing at first.
The restaurant food was good, but limited in choice and overly expensive.
The process of installing a spa was well managed, and was of no inconvenience to us.
The staff were wonderful, taking an interest in us, encouraging our limited italian, and reverting happily to english when we needed to. They were especially helpful when my wallet was lost or stolen, giving advice, directing us to the nearest police station, accomodating our late check-out, and offering to defer our extras bill until we were due home a week later.
The hotel is an easy walk from Piazza di Santa Crocé and the rest of the central attractions. It is also easy to get to as the No 23 bus stops just outside, on Lungarno della Zecca Vecchia.

Verdi's Falstaff

It was a blast at the Liverpool Philharmonic a week ago last Friday.  We really enjoyed the performance of Falstaff by Giuseppe Verdi, a comic opera loosely based on Shakespeare's the Merry Wives of Windsor.
In an opera house, there are sumptuous sets and the cast have the run of the stage, while the orchestra are relegated to the orchestra pit. Here the orchestra took their usual place, the scene changes were suggested by images projected onto the back wall, and the cast sung mainly from the front of the platform, though they also used the stall aisles and choir benches on occasions. From our second row seats, we could almost reach out and touch them.
While Bryn Terfel was excellent in the title role, and the most eye catching name, Rebecca Evans and Anna Dowsley were wonderful merry wives, Wanda Franek was a great bearer of messages, and the two young lovers, Murat can Guvem and Barbara Massaro are worth looking out for.
Opera in Italian is not the easiest to follow, but we were helped by reading the plot summary in the program notes beforehand, a screen at either side showing the English translation, but mainly by the expressiveness of the singers. they were real performers.
They added plenty of their own humour to the score. The kitchen utensils in Falstaff's hat serving as horns for the forest scene was a particularly fun touch. Vasily Petrenko is well able to add an element of humour to his conducting; I did catch some, but found myself watching the singers more.
Verdi wrote only two comic operas, one, not well received in his youth, and then this a masterpiece in his old age. I particularly enjoyed the first scene in Act 3; at the start Falstaff is dejected, but his spirits rise as he sings an ode to the joy of wine. The music expresses it so well.

The Compost Bin

I emptied some compost from the compost bin today. This is how I went about it.
1. First I swept up the space in front of the bin. We had a broken window pane a while back, and while most of the glass fragments had been cleared away, there were still a few that needed sweeping up.
2. I edged the bin forward a few inches, and opened up the door at the bottom, cleaning up the soil from the edges, so that it goes back cleanly.
3. Using a spade, I dug out some compost from the bottom of the bin. I took out a wedge, up to the top of the door at the front, making sure  I got to the back at least at the bottom.
4. I then cleaned up the faces where the door fits, and then put the door back in place. I was lucky, the remaining compost did not fall down to fill the void until after I fitted the door, and secured it with ties.
5. Taking three or four spadefuls into a tray, I lifted it up to table height, and took out any large pieces that did not immediately crumble in the hand.
6. The twigs went to one side to be reused. The twigs help the oxygen get to the composting process.

7. Pieces of slate are ready to wash and put back onto the slate path.

8. I threw away everything else I took out: nested pieces of egg shell,  peach stones, avocado skin, pieces of plastic. There were other chunks of unidentified material that did not immediately crumble. Although tea bags did not compost that well, we will continue to compost them, as the tea itself seemed to compost okay.
9. I ended up with one and a half tubs of compost, which we will cover with plastic sheets to keep the compost dry before we use it.

10. Finally I tidied up, passable well.

Story of your Life

This is the short story on which the 2016 film Arrival is based. It is much better than the film.

"The only way to learn an unknown language is to interact with a native speaker." When alien craft orbit the earth and open up a number of communication windows around the world, the military are quite cagey about the information they share, but the colonel takes the advice from Dr. Louise Banks, and she is paired with a physicist and tasked with learning the alien language and learning what physics they can teach us.

The book is not so much about language as knowledge of the future. The aliens know the future, and so are very patient as Louise learns their language. But as she does, she gains knowledge of the future.

This is not liberating, but is instead very restrictive. She is precluded from making actions that deviate from what she knows of the future.

The book is addressed to her unborn daughter, and describes incidents of her life from childhood youth to untimely death.

A thoughtful short story, much better than the film with its nonsense atmospherics and artificial climactic finish.

Sophie and her Parents

Sophie Grace Garden is this week (by our time-bound reckoning) beginning a glorious and joyful eternity with her heavenly father, who loves her. There she will receive great honour, as Jesus said “But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.”

 

Photo Credit:- Katie Garden

To many eyes, Sophie’s lot in this life was not great, and her hold on it was tenuous and brief.  Her condition of Down’s syndrome stood against her, and her heart condition ensured that her life was both brief and troubled.  

But she enjoyed what many do not - the love of a great Mum and Dad.

Danny and Katie are the greatest of parents, loving and standing up for their daughter, her fiercest advocate, her greatest champion, standing with her through thick and thin. Through them, we learnt to see Sophie not as someone to be pitied and feel sorry for, but as wonderful Sophie to be treasured and delighted in.  

Ever able to see the comedy in life they were able to communicate love and fun, even when sharing news that was difficult.

Thanks to Danny and Katie, we do not remember Sophie for all her troubles, but as the joyful fun loving little girl that she was.  You are an inspiration to us all.

 

Photo Credit: Jemma Orange

  

Start Yachting

This is what I learnt from my Start Yachting Course in September.

Tides.
The tides influenced where we went, and to an extent, what time of day we sailed. Water sweeps up the English Channel and back, and our route was designed to travel with the tides rather than against them.  A table gives the time and height of low and high tide for each day of the year using universal time (which we know as GMT so add one hour in British Summer time). A series of charts show the direction and speed of the flow at high tide and at each of the six hours before and afterwards.

Sleeping.
There is a cabin in each of three of the corners of the boat with the heads (toilet) and water tanks etc in the fourth.  These cabins sleep two quite cosily if there are eight on board, or one more comfortably if there are only five, as we had. You still have to get in the bed from the head end.  The other two beds are on the bench seats either side of the table. On these you can swing your legs over the side, but have to prevail on one of the cabin occupiers to store your kit during the day.

Slip Knots.
Before we set off, the ropes that secured us to the jetty are replaced by ropes that are not tied to the dock (or slip).  Instead they are simply looped around the cleat, with both ends secured on the boat. When we are ready, one end is held and the other released, so the boat can slip away.

The Motor.
Although we came to learn to sail, there is no escape from learning to use the motor. As well as being able to get home if the wind drops, the motor is needed for navigating in and out of harbours and berths.  Sometimes the mainsail was up and pulled tight while under motor. A cone with the apex down hoisted in front of the mast indicates to other craft that the boat is under motor.

Mainsail and Topsail.
From my dinghy sailing, I am used to calling the Topsail a jib. We had a Genoa, which is similar but larger, extending beyond the line of the mast. Using the term Topsail avoided having to make this distinction. It was furled and unfurled by a pair of ropes running down the port side and cleated near the stern. These were the only ropes I could see that were cleated by hand. For the rest I needed to learn about winches.

Winches.
On my dinghy, you can cleat the jib sheet, or just hold it with one hand. This is out of the question on a larger boat with a larger sail. You can pull the sail from one side to the other by pulling it by hand, only after it is wound twice round the winch, to pull it tighter, the rope goes another two times round and into a guide that makes the fifth turn hold it tight, so that it can be turned using the winch handle.

The tricky bit to learn is winding the three extra turns. You have already pulled it hand tight, so you do not want to lose that by letting go. You wind it using one hand drawing a wide circle so your hand does not caught, and you wind each one higher than the last to avoid them crossing each other and prevent them turning.
The strenuous bit is turning the winch handle. You brace yourself with one leg either side of the inside edge of the deck, facing forward so you can see the sail. You will be on the lower side of the boat if it is heeling. Especially in a race, it needs to done quickly, but in your haste you do not want to start turning the handle before it is fully inserted.
On the next tack your job is easy, simply release the sheet so that your partner on the other side can pull the sail to his side, then wind the sheet twice round ready for the tack after that. In a narrow channel with the wind against you, the tacks come quite often, and it can be hard work.

Eight Cleats and two Winches.
On either side of the cabin hatch are one winch and four cleats holding four ropes, each of which can be tightened using the winch. I did not fathom what they all were. One was the main sheet, three were reefing lines, and three were halyards, which makes only seven.  The cleats had long handles, they needed to be lifted up and pushed forward to be open.

Steering the Boat.
I have to say I did not master this. It is different using a wheel, there is a mark to show where straight is, but I did not keep track of it very well. I tended to over steer, perhaps because the boat takes longer to respond than a dinghy, perhaps because I lost touch with where straight is. In rough sea, we had force 5 and for 6 winds, the waves and gusts meant you were continually having to correct the direction, easier with land ahead than behind. Also you had to brace yourself against the movement of the boat, using other parts of the boat, not the wheel. Unlike a dinghy, you did not have hold of the main sheet, and you were not taking action to keep the boat level and avoid capsizing.

Setting the Sails.
There was little fine tuning of the sails. Very largely they were set for the course and left for the duration. In the open water we kept the same course for long stretches and the wind direction did not vary much. We did slacken the main sail for some gusts, but I suppose the gusts just turned the boat to windward, not a problem in open water.

Stugeron.
Once you feel seasick, it is a little late to take Stugeron, and it is easier to feel yuk on deck than to go below deck to fetch it. I was fine when we were sailing, but when we went heave to I started feeling nauseous, and another crew member was sick. I joined him and one other at the second occasion we were heave to.  To Heave to, steer into the wind, when the topsail backs the other way turn fully the other way and lock the wheel. You can drift safely, but as I discovered not necessarily comfortably.
Whether I was better the next day because I was used to it, because we did not heave to in open water, because the water was calmer or because I took Stugeron the night before, I do not know.

Man Overboard Procedure.
We practised it like this. Skipper throws bucket and buoy overboard. One crew member keeps his eye on it and points towards it till it is picked up, but taking care not to be hit by the boom. Helm turns to wind and start the engine. When the engine is started the jib is furled.  The boat approaches the buoy at right angles to the wind direction, aiming to arrive just upwind (not down wind as in a dinghy) slowing the motor and using reverse if necessary.  As the boat drifts toward the buoy it is picked up using a boat hook.
A real event involves throwing a lifebelt, either one attached to the boat, which avoids the need for the manouvre if the man overboard can grab it, or the one that signals by light and radio beacon its location, and therefore the approximate location of the man overboard. Meanwhile a crew member sends a distress message on the radio, first an automatic message by holding the button in for three seconds, and second giving the same information by reading out the information from the board behind (name of vessel etc) and the instrumentation (exact position) and the nature of the distress.

Coming into Berth.
Approaching the harbour requires local knowledge, whether to keep strictly to the channel or whether you can take shortcuts when the tide is high. The channel for Lymmington begins what seems like half way across the Solent. Poole harbour has a bridge that is only opened by request at half past each hour. Once the motor is started the topsail is furled and the main sail lowered.
Then the fenders are moved into position along the side from the stern where they have been for the journey. A length of rope is loosely tied to the shroud near the centre of the boat, run to the Fairlight at the front, and then secured to the cleat using an OXO knot, round once, two diagonals and round again.  A second rope is similarly prepared at the stern end. As the boat comes in, two crew members untie the end from the shroud, step outside the rail, holding the shroud and facing into the boat. As soon as they can they step backward onto the berth and secure the rope around the cleat on the berth, simply holding it tight until they tie a knot. After this a further line is attached at the middle, but I will have to learn that next time.

Visitors' Berths.
When visiting a harbour, there may be limited space for visitors, so boats will come alongside the ones already there, and tie on to them. Unless your boat is shorter which makes it problematical, a second set of lines will pass round the first boat to reach the shore. You have to walk over the first boat to reach the jetty, and etiquette demands that you walk across their bow, never across their cabin.  At Lymmington we were the third of four, so we needed to negotiate with the fourth boat to accommodate our early start.

A Good Start.
It takes a five day course, or three two day courses to achieve the competent crew qualification. There is still much to learn, but this has been a good start. A big thank you to my colleagues you bought this taste yachting experience for me on my retirement.