My Chronicle for 2006
(last edited on Sunday 14th January 2007)
I have mixed feelings about annual
letters. They can be useful for keeping in touch with people, but
unless one is in touch only once a year they are likely to duplicate
information already provided. Since a moderate proportion of my
activity is chronicled on this site I decided to create a page to
combine links to existing accounts of recent activities, with a little
extra material that does not already appear elsewhere.
I've continued to pursue my old hobbies, gardening,
reading, computing, playing Go and exchanging emails with friends, all
described here but
there have been new activities too.
Reading Violet Bonham-Carter's Winston Churchill As I Knew Him has
inspired me to reintroduce into English usage the word 'luncheon' as
the name of the midday meal - so that 'lunch' may be restored to its
original meaning as the verb referring to the act of eating luncheon.
Very time consuming has been the extension to the house which has a page on this
site all to itself.
I've also joined the Leicester U3A (University of
the Third Age).
In my youth I was told to try to avoid starting
sentences with "I", but notice that three of the last
five paragraphs do so, so excuse the tortured syntax by which I avoid
repeating the offence in the next paragraph.
Monthly visits to London have been a new departure
this year. When I moved to Leicester in 1993 I saw one of the
advantages as easy access to London, but for many years visited London
only rarely. However, since April 2006, I've made a day trip
to London every month save July. Usually I meet Gerard, another
refugee from the Northwest, who lives near Luton, even nearer to the
capital than I.
We've been to Kew gardens twice, and managed to look
round almost all of it, including Kew Palace. It is now extremely
expensive, about 9 pounds even with my old man's discount, and Kew
Palace, really only a moderately large house, is 5 pounds extra.
However the gardens are a wonderful place to be. We plan henceforth to
make annual visits
at different times of the year.
Greenwich which we visted early in November was a
very pleasant surprise. Neither of
us could recall ever being there before, and although The Cutty Sark,
and the dome of the old observatory were both closed for renovation,
there was still more to see than we had time for, so we
plan to return next year.
Art galleries and museums have occupied a good deal of our time
in London,
and after I'd read biographies of Lytton Strachey and Maynard Keynes we
looked, from the outside only, at various houses formerly inhabited by
members of the Bloomsbury Group.
We often start our visits to London
with a drink the
café of the British Library, where one can see some of the book
collection through large plate glass windows. We once actually saw
someone take a book from the stacks. Shelves moved to make way for him,
and we recalled the scene in one of the Star Wars films where the
heroes were
trapped in a rooms the walls began to move inwards, but nothing so
exciting happened while we were watching.
We are working through the National gallery one
period at a time. I find looking at pictures rather boring, though
reflecting afterwards on what I have seen is interesting in two ways.
First the
subject matter and style of painting is an interesting reflection on
the societies in which they were painted. A high proportion of
Mediaeval European painting seemed to have been of biblical or
classical
scenes, in which the people painted were models pretending to be
someone else. Second I'm intrigues by the bahavious of visitors to
galleries. Most visitord
the linger over pictures, while walk briskly
past most, occasioanlly pausing briefly. I wonder why they most people
gaze for so long? If they are artists, they may
be analyzing technique, but I doubt if they are all artists. If a
picture shows a busy street or market scene, or some mechanical
contrivance, one may need to pause to work out what is going on, but
few of the older pictures pose such puzzles. Typically they show models
self consciously showing off their good looks. However much one may
admire such a picture, there is no need to stand and stare at it, for
after a
quick look one should have it imprinted on one's mind where it will
be available for leisurely contemplation in more comfortable and less
crowded surroundings than the gallery.
At the Tate Modern I was intrigued by the Brillo Pad
box, and by the
notorious bricks. As objects for dispassionate aesthetic appreciation,
neither struck me as by any means the least pleasing of the exhibits,
and I shall not discuss the unproductive question 'what is art?' here
(but see this
document ), however something was
decidedly odd about both. First there is the question of authorship.
The Brillo Pad box
must have been designed by some employee or agent of the company that
makes Brillo Pads, and any merit in the design reflects on that
designer, not on whoever decided to exhibit the box. The bricks too,
while not
formally a copy of any commercial design, were arranged neatly as many
bricklayers' mates must have arranged bricks while tidying up a
building site. It is not clear what the exhibitor had contributed to
the exhibit. Had he sealed in a plastic block the product of one of his
own bowel motions, there would have been much more of himself in the
exhibit, though possibly more than many would have wished to see.
There is still a great deal to be done in London;
enough, I imagine, to
occupy monthly visits for the rest of my life. The museums are still
largely to be explored; so far we've got no further than one short
visit
to the Science Museum, and a quick trot round parts of the British
Museum. In outer London, I haven't been to Hampton Court for at least
30 years, and have never looked round Windsor castle.
While visiting friends in Suffolk in July I
spent a morning looking round Orford Ness, a strange place, for most of
the last century in the hands of the military, but now owned by the
National Trust. It is an odd combination of nature reserve, with
shingle, reed beds and bird sanctuary, and military relics. Various
explosives, including atom bombs (just the chemical explosives not the
fissile material), used to be tested there, and some of the strange
buildings used for that purpose are still standing, though by no means
in pristine condition. In one building they were exhibiting an atom
bomb, or at least the outer casing of one, which our guide said also
contained the electrical wiring. The plan marks one building as 'Naval,
function unknown'
Although the Ness is at one point tenuously linked
to the mainland one reaches it by ferry. Usually one has to walk
around the Ness, but the five miles of the recommended tour would have
been far
too much for my companion's knees, and something of a challenge for me
as we should have had to walk over shingle for much of the way. However
on just three Saturdays each year there is a tour in a trailer
towed by a tractor, so we timed our visit to Suffolk to coincide with
one of those. That also allowed us to go inside some of the less
derelict buildings, which are opened
only on special occasions. these included one building containing the
casing for an atomic bomb.
We were given to understand that the tractor and
trailer can be
hired for private functions, so one could have one’s birthday party on
the Ness, picknicking outside a bomb shelter. Choose warm weather if
you pan to do that.
The sea breeze kept the Ness wonderfully cool, I
estimate from 6 to 8 degrees cooler than on the mainland. The
Suffolk coast was also several degrees cooler than the midlands,
temperature differences that were most welcome in the July heat
wave.
At the end of July I spent a weekend in Kent,
helping my friend James run his mother's 90th birthday party. With
several other helpers we managed a buffet lunch for upwards of 40
people, in the course of which 34 bottles of wine were consumed. I
enjoyed it all immensely. I do enjoy having something to do and hate
those social occasions when people say 'just relax and have fun'; few
things can be more tedious than lots of people conscientiously striving
to have fun.
An interesting event was a recent visit from my
cousin Alan to see if I could identify some old family photographs.
When Sophie, the last of our aunts, died in 1995 Alan managed to rescue
her photograph and post card albums from the dustbin. Of course most of
the photographs had no identifying note, and I was able to help with
only a few., but it was fascinating to look through his colection -
recorded in his lap-top computer.
Alan has been busy working out his family tree
and has traced some lines back to the seventeenth century. We are
related on my mother's side, so it was that part of my family tree than
he had worked out, but given a few pieces of information he
produced for my father a tree that goes
back to the early nineteenth century. Perhaps I ought to find out how
one does it.
I was struck by the size of
the families; six or more
children seemed to be the rule rather than the exception, but that was
balanced by infant mortality, two of my mother's siblings died in
infancy, and by a fair number of people never marrying. On both sides
of the family my roots are in the villages of Leicestershire, but
surprisingly few of my ancestors worked on the land, most being
artisans, garment makers, or spinners and weavers.