Happy Birthday Ann!

It is Ann's birthday, so last week we went to the opera to celebrate. The The De Vere Horsley Estate where we stayed is a large mansion set in 300 acres of Surrey with a fascinating history. Built in 1820 by Sir Charles Barry; the architect of the Houses of Parliament, it was bought by the Lovelace family. Ada Lovelace, the daughter of Lord Byron, was a close friend of Charles Babbage and helped him by writing the first computer program for his mechanical computer, and a modern computer language has been named in her memory. Another famous owner was Sir Thomas Sopwith, inventor of the Sopwith Camel First War fighter plane.

Normally busy with conferences and weddings, it was eerily quiet with few guests, several of whom, like us, were staying for the opera. There is still only a skeleton staff working. All large weddings are on hold, and the manager (who was doubling as a bar waiter in the evening and breakfast waiter in the morning) told us that there are hundreds of weddings, delayed for up to 18 months, booked in solidly every day from the moment the hotel reopens for normal business. He is Irish but had been back to Dublin only once during the emergency, for the funeral of his brother who had died suddenly from Covid.

Ann returns from her trip below

Ann and I were roomed in the tower. Although a romantic situation, the room was inevitably a little cramped being built into the thick curved wall. The toilet, as large as the bedroom, was in the room below accessed by a steep spiral staircase. Paying a nighttime visit required great care with a steady grip of the handrail. 

We dressed in our finery ready to drive the short distance to the venue at Grange Park, but there was a minor hold up when I tried to do up my dress trousers. They appeared to have shrunk, so I could not make the tab meet the button on the other side. No matter how tightly I pulled, there remained a stubborn gap of a couple of inches. In the end, I was pulling so hard the tag tore through the cloth, so I ended up wearing a dress jacket, fancy shirt, bow tie, and my ordinary dark trousers. Luckily, I had not driven down in jeans! Finally we arrived to see Falstaff, with Bryn Terfel as the glutenous and lecherous fat Shakespearean knight. At 79, Verdi was even older than me when he composed this wonderful piece. 

We had seats at the front of the stalls, and with the orchestra tucked away under the stage, we were but a few feet away from the great man and could appreciate every nuance of gesture, and every tone of Bryn's superb voice. It was a truly magical night, with a hamper picnic in the park. Unfortunately, because of staff shortages, the hotel bar had closed at 10p.m. so we enjoyed a nightcap in our room instead.

Happy Birthday Ann 

Dr Edwin Marr, PhD

 

Celebrating wth Dr. Eds

Edwin has worked hard these last three-and-a-half years towards his doctorate in English Literature. He has combined this with working as a temporary lecturer at ARU and UEA, which inevitably took a lot of time in preparation and marking. He finally submitted his thesis on space in the railways earlier this year and had his viva on Monday. The work covered the mid-Victorian period when railways were growing in their reach, and many writers of the period were responding to this in both negative and positive ways through literature and poetry. The viva was conducted by two people who are experts in the field. Despite some nervousness, he remained cool and analytical in his answer, and received glowing reports from both examiners. The independent chair commented that it was "the best and most interesting viva" he had ever chaired. He passed with flying colours, and their only recommendation was to change a few minor typos. 

Happily, Ann and I could arrange for our friends Rae and Malcolm to come over to dog sit, and we could go straight over to celebrate with him and his partner Andre. We took what we thought was a good bottle of bubbly which was quickly downed, but then Edwin broke out a bottle of vintage 2010 Bollinger he had bought specially for the celebration. This was so smooth and gentle on the pallet, we sank it rapidly with much toasting and congratulations. It too went down all too rapidly. Edwin and Andre had booked a smart Greek bistro near the centre of Cambridge for a meal. This was Andre's treat, and more toasts were raised over a fine Greek white wine. Then we walked down the road to the University Arms hotel where we could enjoy cocktails in their oak-panelled library, then over the road to a lively night club, open until 02:00, for more cocktails before getting a Uber taxi back to the apartment. 

Eds had made up a bed for the night (I certainly could not have driven home) and we crashed out, but managed to get up at 06:30 and leave without disturbing the boys. We were back home for 08:00 to let the dogs out, and for me to start work again. Every one of our seven children has done well, but this was definitely a night to remember and cherish. Congratulations Edwin. We are so proud of you.

Formal funeral in Clare

 

Formal funeral in Clare

Taking the dogs for their daily walk in Clare yesterday, I spotted a traditional funeral cortege. It was just leaving Martin's the undertakers, carrying the coffin to the church where the vicar came out to escort the coffin to its central place in the aisle. I did not learn who had died, but clearly someone who wished for a traditional send off. Formal horse drawn funerals are rare in Clare, although I did see one a while before, when the horses and carriage were brought together in the park prior to their journey to collect the coffin.

Ann and I have been working hard to repair the damaged decking at the back of the house, ripping up the old decking and placed it in the skip. Then, following Ann's idea, we filled the far half with gravel. That was a job and a half, because of the depth of the wooden surround. Lacking hardcore to fill the base, we had to buy bags of gravel before getting the top layer of smooth Scottish pebbles. We estimate that we moved a ton and a half of stone between us, from the garden centre to the car, then the car to the site. We were glad to sit down after the last bag was in place.

Next, we have ordered the new decking boards delivered yesterday, and spent the morning shifting them to the site in readiness for screwing down. In the evening, our friends Rae and Malcolm came to share a takeaway supper from the Rose and Crown, our local pub. Malcolm is in his 80's, but has already volunteered himself to help fix the boards in place at the weekend (weather allowing). We prepared ourselves with a good lubrication of wine.

I have now finished two more portraits, the one of Ann in her natural pose, the other of one of our granddaughters, but I regret I cannot publish either. Modesty forbids in one case, and in the other, MA likes to protect her children by not publishing photos of them on line. However, we see them and I am quite pleased with the results.

The Empty Chair

The Empty Chair

After receiving some complements about my hat from some boys in Clare Park (not sure if they were being facetious, but no matter), I decided to paint it for memory's sake. It is slung from the old wooden chair in my room, which looked so bare I had to call it more poignantly,  The Empty Chair. The room is not really empty; in fact, it is fully cluttered with papers and books piled high against every wall, but apart from the pain of having to paint clutter, it would then have to be called The Lost Chair, for it would hardly be visible.

Finally, we are all emerging from lockdown. we can eat outside under blankets (al fresco dining is not suited to April weather in England), and most shops have reopened - at least, those that haven't gone into receivership  due to the harsh conditions of lockdown). I have returned to our local art shop in Bury to browse and buy a few bits, so much more pleasant than perusing an on-line catalogue.

Ann likes to order her clothes online now, and even though the shops are open one still can't use changing rooms in any case. Last week she ordered a new skirt and went upstairs to try it. Suddenly I heard a plaintiff cry, "John - John - help!". The poor girl had pulled it down over her head and got it as far as the waist, but it was very tight and she couldn't get it off again. It really was stuck. I could hardly get a finger in under the band, but managed to wriggle it slowly back up. It was very difficult getting it past the breasts, though it was so tight. Finally I succeeded, and could ease it over Ann's extended arms. It wasn't because Ann was being vain ordering a skirt too small, she explained, it was the same size as she always orders, but some of the foreign made ones make them too small. Some good is coming out of all this though. I took a number of photos of Ann in the altogether, and we chose one for me to paint. I look forward to finishing it.

Outside, we have done a bit of gardening, and decided to renew the patio. This was built for us by Sam many years ago, but has finally succumbed to age and weathering, and some of the boards have started to rot. We had quotes for rebuilding the decking or changing it to a stone patio, but the quotes are humendous. So we have removed the old decking ourselves and stacked it up ready to order a skip. The framework is still sound, so we'll just buy new decking for most of it, and plan to fill the remained with gravel.

 
 

Ravens in Suffolk

The surgery seemed to have forgotten to call me for my second jab.  Ann suggested I drop a note into the surgery as GPs are never there anymore, and their telephone is a minefield of selections and waiting, with only Dalek voices at the end. But hot news - I had my second Covid jab last night. The first jab was in January, but following the government's unusual policy, the second was spaced three months later. I think they called it right on this one, so hopefully the whole country will have some protection soon and we can get out and about again. 

Ann in Lockdown

I have completed a portrait of Ann. It shows the isolation of lockdown, with Ann working on her Apple in a stark, bare room, just a coffee cup and volume of poetry for company (I was behind the camera, then in the studio painting). It is a larger painting, oil on canvas, 14"x12". I am keen to try some larger canvases soon, when the art shop in Bury reopens and I can browse and select the things I want.

With no prospect of foreign travel at the moment, we have booked a week away in Northumberland. I hope to take the paint set up there and try some plein air painting, as we artists call it (I'm slowly learning the terms now, thinks to my YouTube tutors). 

Edwin has had another prang in his car. This was not his fault as he wasn't in it; it was parked in the private carpark behind his flat in Cambridge. Someone had reversed into it with a towbar, but left without leaving their contact details. A witness told Edwin which flat owner had done it, and Edwin left a note asking them to cough up, but they have denied it. He is reluctant to inform the police over it, so will probably have to pay for the repairs himself. This is the second time someone has bumped into him in a carpark, and just left. It is an expensive business.

Ravens in Hundon

We are getting a lot of birds now, with the feeders up round the house. Beside all the little ones, yesterday Ann spotted a pair of ravens. They are huge birds and landed on the roof of the saloon, then hopped down to the lawn to feed at the foot of the bird table, frightening off the pigeons that usually take up positions there to wait for seed to fall. This bird table must be an antique now; my dad made it for my mum more than 50 years ago, and I brought it down to Suffolk when they died. Ravens are rare in Suffolk, but Ann discovered that a breeding pair had been reported three years ago, so perhaps they are returning to the area.

Pigeon pests and high jinks

 My earlier picture, Strata 1, taken from the strong banding formations seen in  Dales Gorge, Western Australia, looked a little barren. I have always much admired the striking geological formations we see in the UK, but even more prominent and colourful strata can be seen at sites round the world. The native tree there has the odd name, Snappy Gum Tree, and is distinctly white, so I have now added one to the composition. It breaks the bands up well, and is a worthy addition to the frame.

Strata 1 and Snappy Gum Tree

Making the most of the hot March weather, I could take my first walk of the year round the fields without being caked in mud. The ploughed fields were heavy with pigeons that rose in a thick cloud as I approached. This morning, after the Nightingale's early greeting, came heavy repeated gun shots. I suspect the farmers don't see pigeons in the same way as we non-rural folk, but view them as pests gorging on their newly planted seed. Ann hates to see birds shot, but even she curses pigeons when they crap on her car. She refuses to park on the drive beneath our huge maple tree throughout the summer because of the bird mess, so parks on the roadway instead.

Ann is fond of japes, always at my expense. I have a habit of sitting on the stairs to fasten my shoes and flicking my slippers into the corner for my return. Now when I came back from a drive or walk, I often find just one and have to play "hunt the slipper" for the other. It may be hung from a door knob, or hidden in a basket; Ann peeps out semi-secretly, full of amusement at my loss. This morning, for just a few moments I left a bowl of fruit I was enjoying for breakfast. When I restarted it, I suddenly came upon a slice of cucumber slipped in and hidden beneath the oranges and benanas. Of course, Ann bursts out laughing so I know it's her. 

Today she is full of high spirits as the end of lockdown looms into sight. Already we have booked time away in Northumberland and can't wait to get away, although we dare not risk a holiday abroad until next year, though, so that is something to look forward to in the future. Out on the walks, people are opening up like the buds on the trees, suddenly cheerful and chatty. Taking the car in this morning, our local garageman came over and chatted for nearly 20 minutes, and even the Ocado delivery man spent time on conversation.

Computer problems and sociable walks.

Death in a cold apartment

I wonder if she died in her sleep

or if she lay knowing end was nigh

and thought of past regrets

wishing someone was near

to hear her last confession

or wipe away her tear

at being wrenched from all she knew

and from everything she held most dear

Annie Elliott

 Further to my earlier blog about Edwin witnessing the police breaking down the door of the apartment opposite theirs, to recover the body of a woman who died alone (see An Eventful Time in Lockdown), Ann was moved to write a poem about the event. As I've mentioned before, she writes compelling poetry that plunges deep into the despondency and suffering of humanity. There is no shortage of material, but she has been stymied recently by computer glitches, and was unable to log onto WordPress for a while, so there was a hiatus in her work. Strangely, the HomePods also stopped working for a while. Siri kept doing its own thing, suddenly blurting out answers to questions no one had asked, or starting up with unbidden random music. When these systems go wrong, they do so in unique and idiosyncratic ways.

Meanwhile, our son Mike and his partner have started a new computer based business. It is a web design/optimisation service, about which the two of them have considerable experience. So if anyone wants to produce the latest in web pages and reach the top of the search engines, then log onto duodigital. I'm sure they'll have more success than we've had lately with the silicon beasts.

Dog walking brings us into contact with a variety of fellow walkers (always while maintaining social distance rules naturally). For the last few months, we tended to pass at a good distance, often swerving to avoid each other, but as lockdown draws to a close people are becoming more sociable again. This morning it was an older lady walking with a stick and three Welsh springer spaniels. I had Byron on the lead, but Bronte can usually be trusted to "walk on" and ignore other dogs. One of the dogs suddenly started aggressively barking at her, though, causing Bronte to jump and run on. "Oh, she was once nipped by a border collie," the woman explained, "she's disliked them ever since."

Then this evening, two boys stopped to admire my hat, and ask where I got it. I don't think they were being sarcastic. Perhaps it should be a subject for a future painting, if it draws so much interest.