A wet Sunday in Cromer

With Mary Ann

 A happy day in Cromer meeting up with son Ben, Kaz and Luke who have taken a cottage for the week. Kaz won the chance of the cottage as second prize in a competition she entered. First prize would have been to stay in a mansion, but he cottage was so perfect I don't think they'd have enjoyed it more. It was an old flint-stoned fisherman's cottage, modernised but still a two-up-two-down, though with its extensions larger than a hundred years ago.

Byron and Bronte await their next command

Beside recently winning with his project in the British Physics Olympiad, Luke had more good news. He was researching something on Google for a computer project when a personal message suddenly popped up inviting him to enter a competition writing Java code. The winner will get a chance to be interviewed by Google. Luke is thrilled, and says his teacher, who has been programming for years, was jealous that he never had such an offer!

A selfie of Five Come to Cromer Beach

After a good lunch, we walked down to the beach. It was a fair trek, and the cliffs there are moderately high leaving me worried about walking back up them. The beach was moderately busy, but Luke and Ben took turns to run with the dogs - literally, and a long way. To Ben's surprise (though probably not anyone else's), the dogs just wanted more, for he couldn't tire them. One of the boats was called Mary Ann, so we couldn't resist a picture with it.

The rain came on and we settled for coffee at the end of the pier, then set off back to the cottage. Encouragingly, I could walk back up the cliff comfortably, so I must be getting stronger. At the cottage, Ben lit a log burning stove in the centre of the room. The fire blazed hypnotically and effectively, and the whole room was suddenly warm.

An unexpected message via LinkedIn invited me to be available for professional consultations with a company called GuidePoint - a large US company that provides expertise in all fields to firms wanting some professional input. It is hopeful that there may still be a future for work out in the big world. I have completed the application form; now I shall see if anyone is interested in my particular expertise. Today, also, I got a request from lastminute dot con to complete a satisfaction survey for my booking with them. This was the only opportunity to complain about my lost flight to Leiden, so they did not get a high rating. It will be interesting to see if they moderate my comment!

The Ghanaian secret to a long life

Returning to the airport at Hamburg, we were driven by a chatty Ghanaian who told us the secret of a long life. We praised his excellent English, and he reminded us that Ghana had been under British rule, and English was the first language. "Colonialism was the worst thing that happened to Africa," he said. "Until then, the whole of Africa, excepting the Arabic north, was built of independent individual tribes, each living in relative peace." He told us, they did not have much, but what they had they held in common, with a shared sense of hospitality; anyone could go anywhere in Africa and be offered food and shelter. They used little from the land that had supported them for thousands of years. Colonialism ripped that model apart, forcing peoples with different languages and tribal customs into politically divided countries, then leaving them to fight among themselves for power and control. He was one of eleven children, but when he returned home, he treated his possessions as his own, annoyed that they would borrow his things, but his family, who still held all things in common, called him arrogant and told him to stay in Germany.

He had lived in Hamburg for 31 years, and thought it the best place in Germany: "the only place where they accept everyone without prejudice." He extolled the many advantages of the city for a while then mentioned his father had lived well into his 90's and had had three wives. He once asked his father, "why did you have three wives?" His father told him, it was the secret of a long life. "Women just like to talk," he said, "morning to night, they talk talk talk! If you only have one wife, she will talk to you all day, and you get no peace. So you take a second wife, and then they talk to each other and leave you alone. Then, when the two wives start to talk together about you, you take a third wife, and they just talk about her! So you live your life in peace, and you get to a healthy old age."

The taxi-man had suggested to his wife that he ought to get a second wife. "The day you do that," she said, "is the day you write out your will and testament!" He did not suggest it again to her. She phoned him while we were in the car. "She is always checking up on me, to ask where I'm going and who I'm carrying," he said. "She gives me no peace!"

Looking up facts on Ghana when we returned, it certainly seems a delightful place. As Kate Bethel, an American student at the College of Family and Consumer Sciences at the University of Georgia, wrote: "How could people with so little be so happy? What I have realized in my short time here is it’s not the things you have that make you happy, but it really is the people and relationships. In Ghana, value is in your family and relationships above all else. People are not going to remember what you have, but they will remember how you made them feel. I think this is part of their key to happiness, and we should all take note." (quoted from: The happiest people in the world?)

Stuck at Heathrow

We were inevitably late leaving Hamburg yesterday, following delays from Storm Dennis, but were glad to get away with only an hour's delay. We had a bumpy landing in the strong cross wind, but then were stuck on the taxiway for over an hour waiting for a slot. The pilot informed us that the Heathrow computer system was down, and no planes could leave or approach any gateway! We felt most sorry for the people who should have made connecting flights. The flight attendants were visiting their seats to give the best advice they could; the couple in front of us had been going to Chicago, but were told they would not get away today, and must go to the information desk for more news.

So we sat there, just looking at the rows of gates at Terminal 5, each filled with a BA plane but none of which were moving. When eventually they did clear a gate and we went through to baggage reclaim, it was more chaos. All the boards announcing which carousel the bags would come up on were blank, and we were all queuing to see a man with a mobile phone taking verbal instructions and writing down carousel numbers by hand! Departures were even worse: all the indicator boards were down, and the entry gates to security were not recognising the bar codes of the boarding passes. People were being checked in manually, and the gate numbers were being written up on white boards. The news says it was an IT glitch, but that does seem improbable, and we suspect it was a major hack into the system. But these days, conspiracy theories always sound more plausible than reality.

Bartok, our new guinea pig

Getting back home, Andre and Edwin had prepared a meal for us, which was very thoughtful and welcome. Also, they have bought a new guinea pig to replace Pilot (see Christmas 2019). He is called Bartók, continuing our theme of naming animals after famous poets or scientists, or - something new - composers. He is very tiny, only six weeks old, but loves cuddles and nestles up to us seemingly fearlessly.

My new paper, appropriately enough about galaxies in a journal called Galaxies, has brought two responses already from a Professor at Ohio state university, and another from a Professor of Astronomy at the Russian Academy of Sciences in Moscow. It is always a surprise to get messages from such distant places, but very welcome of course when they are so supportive. It must be dreadful to get massive amounts of attention from people who just spit vile and the hatred of envy at the fame of people in the spotlight, like unfortunate Love-Islander Caroline Flack. Much though it's nice to be recognised by a couple of academics, I would hate any fame with that degree of attention, and am glad to live a quiet anonymous life in gentle Hundon.

Stuck in Hamburg

Yesterday we rose while still dark to fly to Hamburg. Edwin and Andre had treated us to the trip as a delayed Christmas gift, but they hadn’t reckoned with Storm Dennis chasing the heels of Ciara so rapidly. We got here easily to a fine hotel, and walked in the evening past the train station to find the little cafes and places that make eating out so interesting. Today we wandered through the old quarter, threading over the canals and cobbled roadways to the Ratenhouse (town hall) where a protest demonstration was in progress against the rising right wing AfD movement that is against Muslims and Gays. our trips to foreign cities always seem to coincide with some local protest. But at least they on the right side. We were glad we didn’t get caught up in a pro-fascist march.

Later we continued our walk to the Miniatur Wunderland, a huge collection of modelled countries filled with moving trains and vehicles and even a craftily modelled airport with planes landing taxiing and taking off into banks of cloud. It was every schoolboy’s dream.

Today, Sunday, we wait in our hotel for news of flight delays and cancellations from Storm Dennis, hoping we get back. Ann is busy already working on her contingencies - other ways back by land air or sea. We wait upon events.

Driving through Storm Ciara

We woke on Sunday to the howling winds of Storm Ciara, so drove out across the width of Suffolk to see for ourselves how bad it was. Ciara is an Irish name, meaning "dark" or "black haired", which should have been warning enough. Apart from a broken branch bouncing off the windscreen on to the roof, we arrived safely in Lowestoft and the car was unmarked. We did pass a lorry wedged across the road. It had swerved to avoid a fallen tree, but couldn't. The remains of the broken tree were lying on the pavement. The lorry had its front nearside badly stoved in. It had clearly just happened, for there was only the lorry driver and a helpful car driver in hi-vis jackets directing us round the wreckage while they awaited the police.

After a good lunch in the Victoria Hotel, we walked through the storm along the beach. The rain was almost horizontal, and bitterly cold as we got drenched, but the dogs loved it and were running round like young soaking pups. I was glad we had remembered to pack a spare towel to dry them, and some treats to cheer them.

Afterwards, we called at the Pier Hotel in Gorleston for coffee. I came out to find tiles blowing off the roof and smashing on the ground round us. Happily, the car remained undamaged. On the way back on the duel carriageway towards Norwich, the rain fell so thickly it bounced off the bonnet and roadway to resemble a thick fog, impossible to see through. I slowed to about 10 mph. Even a passing police car with flashing blue lights, was barely moving at above 20 mph. We were glad to be back safety home, for a warm bath and to dry out.

Lucy sent a text today asking if we had recieved the parcel she sent on Saturday. We hadn't, so tonight I went out with a torch to explore the grounds. I found the parcel hidden round the side of the house, where it had been fully exposed to the recent storms. She has sent us a gorgeous basket of goodies, including cake, chocolates, and little bottles of wine and whisky. I like my whisky straight with no ice or water. Luckily, the contents had remained dry and nothing was spoilt. 

Winter sunrise over Hundon

Sunrise over Hundon

Wednesday: Another cloudless daybreak, with winter frost and a low mist on the hills. It has been the mildest of winters, without snow or fog or heavy frosts. Not a breath of air moves the trees beneath the perched birds, gathering in great numbers now to nest and mate, though I cannot pretend to identify them.

A pretty Thames walk

Thursday: Having failed to secure a flight through Lastminute dot con,  today we must drive down to the UK offices of Astellas near London, to return their computer and the pass for the building. The team sent me an email when I said I had been let down and couldn't get to Leiden, saying they were sorry not to say goodbye in person, and they had a card and gift for me!

We stopped near Windsor for lunch, overlooking the Thames with a good walk available for the dogs. The journey back though was the usual nightmare of rush-hour traffic, but on the doorstep on our return was a UBS parcel marked "extreme urgency!". It was the gift from the group at Leiden - a fine calf leather folder, with a thank you card of generous comments. All as welcome as they were surprising.

Lastminute dot con.

I have recently had a contract with two companies, one of which had been extended for two months but was scheduled to end on 31 Jan. Unfortunately, on that same day, the other company also contacted me to say they wouldn't need me any longer, and the job would finish at the end of this month, so suddenly from two big contracts I will have none. C'est la vie in this game. But yesterday, all this was forgotten when we were treated to dinner with Edwin and Andre.

Enjoying the boy's hospitality

They a fantastic apartment in Cambridge. It sits on the second floor of a purpose-built modern block behind the Beehive centre, so they can walk or cycle into town or to the station, yet it has ample car-parking space and a large locked store for the bikes. On the inside, they have furnished it in a light, modern manner, comfortable, functional, and not over-cluttered, yet without being minimalistic. Last night they invited us for a full three-couse meal, beautifully made and presented. It was delicious. Afterwards, we played a game called "Overbooked" - clearly a favourite of Ed's who loves the operational side of airlines. This consists of four people, each with their own airline, and a model modern passenger plane onto which we had to arrange as many passengers as possible in various combinations, with overbooked passengers being "bumped off" - not a murder game, but a technical term for what airlines do when they overbook. Despite Ed's love of airlines, and skill with arranging timetables, it was Andre who won and Edwin came last!

Turning now to real airlines, I booked a day return to Schipol with Easyjet through Lastminute.com to return my company computer. Today, I tried to print out the boarding passes required to make the journey, but Easyjet have no record of the booking! Lastminute.com have taken my money, and run off with it - and there seems to be nothing I can do about it. I think they should be called Lastminute dot con.