UK 2012 ISSUE 7

 Just made it back from a walk around the neighbourhood.  It's nearly 9:00 in the evening and the sun has not yet made it to the horizon; it is no where near getting dark.  As if getting dark late were not enough 5:00 a.m. doesn't exactly look like the middle of the night. Ain't it amazing what going further north does for the number of hours of daylight. Just for grins and giggles checked latitude and sunset times for San Francisco: L 37.775, sunset is at 8:22 p.m., Ashland: L 42.194, sunset is at 8:37, Leicester: L 52.635, sunset is at 9:12 and Anchorage L 61.1919, sunset is at 11:09.

Corrections (thank you Mick): the river running through Lincoln is the Trent not the Severn. There were 100 foot spires on the towers of Lincoln Cathedral which made it the tallest building in the world at the time. Rape is not a verb, but a noun and is a plant with a bright yellow flower, that looks much like wild mustard.  At home it may be "amber waves of grain", in the Midlands it is definitely "sunshine fields of rape".  Don't believe I have shared a picture of the fields, it is really difficult to capture the rolling landscape with the patchwork field system.  Farming is not on such a grand scale as we are accustomed to in the West.  The fields are generally small, often not more than a couple of acres.  As often as not they are separated by hedges of wild hawthorn and brambles or walls of un-reinforced stones gathered from the fields.  On grey days the vibrant yellow of the rape makes a sharp contrast with the skies and when the sun comes out they simply light up, lifting your spirits with their colour.    

Borrowed from the Web

Donation Urinal

So where have we been and what have we done that I have not shared? Not all that much really. There was an outing to the Abbey Pumping Station in Leicester. I was thinking water pump but no, in fact it was an old sewage pumping station. Power, water, sewer, these are all things which we pretty much take for granted, they have become just a part of what we call normal.  It is somewhat comforting to know there are people who look after these very necessary components of  every day life.  Perhaps our sophistication and technology have changed but the infrastructure has been around a long while.  Even Roman Britain had baths, and plumbing and steam rooms.  Come to find out the reason Beaumont Leys (where our local Tesco is located) has such a poor reputation is because it was the terminus for the Victorian era sewage disposal system. The station itself was in a rather graceful red brick building (what else would they build with around here) and the old pump machinery, which had been in operation until 1964, was intact. It had a wonderful little museum which explored the art and science of eliminating those substances which we in the course of a day eliminate. Loved the container for the collection of donations.  When you walk in the door you almost immediately see a urinal hung on the wall with the word "Donations" and arrow pointing in to its' porcelain bowl.  There was all sorts of “potty” trivia,  words pictures and descriptions which to some would be considered “potty mouth”. Shit and piss, as words describing elimination, have been in common usage in the English language since the 1300's, while Samuel Pepys referred to a “turd” and “taking a leak” in his diaries of the 1690's.  So fear not, were you to use the word shit, at least in reference to the act of going to the toilet, you are in good company.

Abbey Pump Station

Victorian Industrial Chic

There was a wonderful example of why you may hear the phrase “pull the chain” as a euphemism for flushing the toilet. There were displays about chamber pots and multi-hole pit toilets. Much like rural America lots of people had sheds at the bottom of the garden to do their business and even if all the conveniences were readily available it didn't mean they had the water source or the means to remove said water from inside the house. As I pointed out previously, remodelling or adding to a brick structure is not always a simple task. One of my favourite stories: During the 1930's there was a program to replace wooden toilet seats with ones made of Bakelite, as it was thought to be more hygienic. One family got there new seat but had ideas of there own. . . the bath was used for storing coal, the flushing toilet, with seat removed, was used for rinsing dishes. The missing toilet seat? That was hanging on the wall framing a picture of King George V.

Warwick Peacock

We made a trip to Warwick castle for a day out with some of Mick's cousins. If you want to know the history, etc try Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warwick_Castle. I didn't learn much on this adventure.  Must say, though, it was a great day out, laughing and joking with people our age, rather than the senior set. Yes, I know, to some of you we are a part of the senior set but there's senior and then there is SENIOR and I don't believe I will lay claim to either of those designations. At any rate the grounds were lovely, well manicured but, somewhat sterile and definitely lacking in the history and reader boards one comes to expect in buildings of its ilk. Come to find out it is owned by Merlin Entertainment, second only to Disney in size of amusement park operators. That may explain why there was so little history and it felt just a little too well maintained.  The one thing in their favour, at least the building and environs are being maintained, which is more than the previous landed gentry were able to do.  

Rooftops from Warwick Castle

Boat House on the River Avon Warwick Castle

Belton House - A Stately Pile

Belton House

Fields of golden Daffodils

Next week promises to be a bit more exciting, booked a get-away to the Peak District through Living Social. Not the classiest lodging but serviceable and cheap (I hope). Hopefully tomorrow we will take possession of a 2000 Fiat Punto. We felt we couldn't leave Dad without wheels for a prolonged period, even if doesn't do more than drive to the village for Church on Sunday. Hiring a vehicle can get expensive quite quickly. So, we bought ourselves a “beater”. We gave Stefan, the owner, a check which should clear by tomorrow. In the meantime he will get the leaky radiator replaced and have the oil and filters changed. Started out looking at Craig's List but found only four cars listed.  This seemed rather curious so had a general sort of look around.  Craig's List certainly has not taken off in Leicester, perhaps a more sophisticated Londoner would find it more to their taste. There were any number of categories that had no entries at all.  Makes you wonder how the site got established and why it remains given the lack of use. 

Lacking anything of interest on the net we went to the Leicester Mercury, the local paper, where we found plenty of classified ads. The newspaper seems to alive in well in the UK unlike its American counterpart.  Went with the Fiat on a gut feeling that the dude selling it was on the up and up. Found a leaky radiator, maybe it's just a hose, when we went to pay him. So for the original price he has agreed to take it to his wife's uncle who is a mechanic for a replacement radiator and to have the oil changed etc.  He, the uncle, has done all the work on the beast since they have owned it, which is either a very good thing or a very bad thing.  Only time will tell and since it only needs to last until September, we're good. The thing that most recommended it was that its MOT is good until next March and the tax, ie.,  license, is paid until October.

 The MOT is the big thing. After a car is three years old there is an annual test and inspection by the Ministry of Transport. I really wanted to write the Ministry of Funny Walks, thank you John Cleese. They look at everything, seat belts, windshield wipers, exhaust systems, tires, brakes, etc. If you don't pass you don't get your sticker, if you don't get your sticker you better not be driving the vehicle.  It is far more comprehensive than anything I have seen in the states.  As I understand it either you get all the bits in compliance or the certificate will not be issued.  No maximum expenditure, no appeals, just fix it or junk it.  This probably explains why you see so few really beat up cars in the UK. 

 Will begin sharing some pictures with you, this is easier than trying to put them up on Flickr, unless I want to buy a membership.  Blogger purports to have a slideshow that will run at the bottom of the post but I have had no success in setting it up.  If there is anyone out there who has done it please share the how to with me.  As to the pictures, most of them are nothing special so you it's a matter of wysiwyg (what you see is what you get), but they will give you a bigger sense of what it is like over here. 

Warwick Castle Ramparts

Warwick Castle

Castle Garden

Down the Lane

It must be time to call it quits, these pictures are not always ending up where I expect them to be.  So will leave you with "Down the Lane" taken from the backseat while driving down the road.

UK 2012 ISSUE 6

Lincoln  Cathedral

Roof tops from the Castle

So, you may have noticed I left off in a bit of a snit a the end of the last Avatar, but I am recovered now; as is the laptop, almost. Took all of my “help desk” expertise and then some stubbornness to get through it and then some more grumbling, cursing and general bad temper. In the end, between running check disk, disabling or removing a bunch of programs and doing a system restore back to the beginning of time I got everything back except the ability to connect to the Internet. So I am  now  writing and editing photographs on Dad's machine, saving it to a memory stick and moving the lot to Mick's machine. Actually as I write this, the process is still a theory, yet to be tested shortly.

Castle Keep

Allow me to take a moment to address some of the comment I received on my last blog. I am a terrible shoe snob when it comes to what I will put on my feet when travelling in Europe. This may not be entirely sensible but has been true for more than 40 years. I will not wear tennis shoes, otherwise know as trainers or plimsolls in the UK, when travelling abroad. I know I am an American and all I need to do is open my mouth and it becomes patently obvious; but in my mind wearing tennis shoes, particularly white tennis shoes, is synonymous with being an ugly American. Besides, who wears tennies with a skirt, unless of course they are desperately trying to get some exercise in on a lunch hour . . . wahoo, that is not something I need worry about any longer!! So what have a brought this trip, please keep in mind this may seem a bit excessive, but I will be here for six months. First in the case were my hiking boots. I am thinking of leaving them behind when we head home and buying a new pair either back in Ashland, or perhaps here it I find something new and exciting. Second a pair of Clarks' sandals with lots of straps that can be adjusted for wearing with socks if necessary. A pair of brown Mary Janes because they are pretty versatile and look somewhat stylish. Last of all my Dansko boots, first off because I really like them for airline travel (they slip on and off . . . no laces or buckles) secondly because they are boots so they are really useful in the rain, and last of all, being black they look somewhat dressy and I can even wear them with a skirt if I put on a pair of tights (tights is the English generic for any kind of stocking that goes from toe to waist, not just the things that dancers wear.). Hey guys,bet that was more than you ever wanted to know about women's fashion. And just to be on the safe side, don't ask about what kind of a wardrobe I brought, the answer is the barest minimum and a raincoat. My theory is if you need it that bad you can always buy it (as if any self respecting woman needed a reason to go shopping) and I hate having to schlep heavy suitcases through airports etc.

What's for dinner?

Check out the Chinese  Details

The next burning question, what is a full English Breakfast, as served in a B&B. The Ivory Guest House in Lincoln offered four different kinds of cold cereal, apples, oranges, bananas and yogurt to which you could help yourself. There was a choice of coffee or tea. The tea came in a pot, the coffee in a French press, aka cafetiere. There was a pitcher of orange juice on the table, as well a selection of marmalades, jams and honey. For the cooked portion of your breakfast your choices were eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, grilled tomato, mushrooms, hash browns, and fried bread. Naturally this comes with white and/or brown bread toast. 

I have a friend who had theory that the English made toast once a year, in great quantities, to be stored and produced on demand. At the time it was always great thick planks of substantial white bread much like what is commonly used for french toast, toasted to total dryness and presented in a slotted device that held each slice upright and sat in a tray to catch the crumbs. The slotted holder and tray still are used but the bread, for better or worse is more like Kilpatricks and/or Oro Wheat.

Most of the choices are pretty much self explanatory, though English bacon is a creature unknown in the US. It looks as though someone might have taken a very thin slice of a pork chop only longer, and with very limited fat. They don't seem to smoke it and I'm not entirely sure what kind of curing is done other than salt. Indifferent would be my assessment though I expect there is some really wonderful stuff out there if you're willing to go looking for it, never mind what the price might be. Fried bread, something I haven't eaten in years (Mick won't have anything to do with it) is precisely what it sounds like, a slice of white bread fried in shallow fat. The first time I ever ate it the fat was bacon fat, oh so tasty, this time who knows. The texture was great, all crispy and greasy, the taste, well it wasn't bacon fat, that I am sure of.

Steep Hill Shop

I left off last time having gotten soaking wet while exploring the castle.  (It's really all right thought as we have terrific raincoats)  We escaped the rain and took up residence in the cafe to sulk over a cup of tea. Finished off the inside bits of the castle, not like any castle you might imagine up for Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella. They were mostly Victorian buildings built within the grounds as a prison and court building.  Next stop the cathedral. Timing was not to be our forte this afternoon as they were shutting things up for evensong.  Note to self and blog followers, what the dickens is the difference between a castle and a palace.

Castle Ramparts

Victorian Court Building

Steep Hill

If you recall I commented that the Cathedral and Castle were at the top of a very steep hill . Truth be told, it is probably one of the steeper streets I have ever walked, in San Francisco it would be one of the ones where the pavement (I want you to know that the computer just changed the word “sidewalk” to pavement and I had to put it in quotes to stop it from being changed.) is made up of steps. Wonder if the ladies in their four inch heels find it more difficult or easier walking on the slope. I imagine that going up hill is somewhat like walking on the flat, but going down that would be a whole other matter. Then if I really stop and think about it when I worked in the city (for those of you not from the San Francisco Bay Area, there is only one “City”, San Francisco) I used to charge up and down California Street without a second thought. Anyway, Steep Hill, as the street is called, is lined with tea shops, antique book dealers, very up market men and women’s clothing stores and gift shoppes. It's all been pedestrianised as has most of the City Centre and the pavement (in this case I am talking about the street surface) is cobblestones. All very picturesque in the sun and slippery and unstable in the rain. Boy am I glad I didn't live in a world of cobblestones and muddy dirt tracks, you get more than enough of that just sightseeing.

Lincoln Cathedral

Architectural Detail

Exterior Frieze Work

Like the shadows

The next morning was sunny and bright and after a substantial breakfast we made our way up the hill through a city park that made you think you were out in the country, all wild and unkempt, and back up to the Cathedral to have a look around. Mick did the tour that took you up above and into the spaces between the ceiling and roof and out on to the roof for a look around. Will have to snag some of his pictures. I did the downstairs tour and we compared notes over a really wonderful chicken pie for lunch. Finished off a couple of other museums and attractions before making our way back down the hill past a windmill. I have to admit, when I think windmill, either those things that they use to generate electricity or the dutch things come to mind. If you really think about it though, the things that you see up a tower in farm yards are windmills too. There used to be one of those on the ranch in Asti and it was used to pump water from the well. Anyway this was a dutch style windmill which had been one of, I believe, five that used to sit along this ridge. It really looks rather absurd sitting on a brick pad in the middle of a residential neighbourhood.

Ellis Mill

Back to our room and shoes off. We make good use of the tea things provided by our landlord and even did in a couple of packets of biscuits. If you know us, you will know we like to explore, so based on the recommendation made by someone during the day, we decided to find the Pye Wype for dinner. The name is pronounced Pie Wipe and we are told it is a bird. Now I have to admit whenever I heard the name I had visions of the Michelin Tire Man holding a pie in one hand and a dish rag in the other.  Whatever it is, a bird or a man with a pie, there is no way it is  spelled Pye Wype. Not only do we like to explore, we like to do it on foot . . . so by the end of the day we will have climbed to the top of the ridge and then down to the bottom of the valley. Fortunately for us, this being the end of two days of walking, our B&B is on the lower third of the hillside and not nearly so steep as the upper part of the town. Down we go, wandering along streets and alleys in an attempt to find the River Severn, and the footpath to our destination.  As we stroll along the canal there are many flat boats (think barge but don't call them that in front of their owners) often referred to as canal boats, which appear to be lived in. We enquire of a gentleman out walking his dog as to how far down the river the Pye Wype might be . . . his estimate, two miles. I'm a little dismayed, but game to give it a try. So off we jolly well go again, river on the left, houses, then a golf course and eventually fields of rape on our right. Two miles it wasn't, but neither was it a short little meander.

Sunny Days

Architectural Detail

To finish off our break we made a stop in Newark on Trent and explored several museum, and their cobblestoned market square. Would love to return sometime when the market is in full swing. Then off down all the country lanes to places with names like Plungar, Car Colston, Hose and ultimately Colston Bassett of Stilton Cheese fame.

Gotta love those arches

Post Box

Now imagine 100 foot wooden poles on top of those spires!!

UK 2012 ISSUE 5

Perhaps, this time I can stay away from the topic of food, no promises though.  However, an observation on the "standard of dress" and manners, may not go amiss.  Just had a 30'ish man come to the door to sell us something.  In typical American fashion, I said, quite politely, "we're not interested" and firmly closed the door.  This behaviour is quite incomprehensible to my father-in-law, in fact I am quite sure in his estimation it borders on rude.  However, my being an American explains my lack of civility and excuses me from multiple sins.  He, and others of his generation and younger listen politely, say no, listen some more while continuing to say they are not interested.  They would not consider interrupting the sales pitch or otherwise terminating the conversation.  This can go on for minutes on end, and those at the door or on the phone, being well trained as salespeople continue to press their case.  Seems to me it is in everyone's best interest to get to the bottom line as quickly as possible and carry on with whatever else is of importance.  Just saying . . .  

I have noticed that the sales people who come door to door are generally men and not the young t-shirt clad, desperate for a job, paying there way to school, folk which I am accustomed to seeing, Mormons excepted.  They are most often in their 30's, male and always formally dressed.  By formal I mean shirt and tie (and when was the last time you saw that), and as often as not a suit.  But at the very least they will be wearing a sport jacket.  Do I need to mention they are also wearing a top coat or rain coat (can't count on the weather this Spring despite the contention that there is a drought), but not what you might call a slicker.  Once again it is generally fairly formal sort of thing, British Spy trench coat or perhaps the little old man who flashes you sort of coat.  There may be dress down Fridays here but business attire is the norm, not the exception. I have seen more women wearing skirts than I have since the 80s in SF.  You rarely see pant suits, sorry Hilary and although there are a lot more sneakers than I previously remember, mostly you see real shoes.  There are boots for days, above the knee and at the ankle, slouchy baggy boots and tight fitting sexy boots.  Uggs are big but so are things that look like riding boots, and of course there are wellies!  We're not talking just women here either, men seem to like their shoes and boots as well.  As always, men's shoes seem to be mostly Italian.  There are lots of pointy things that Mick refers to as "winkle pickers", winkles being a form of little black sea snails, so you can take it from there.  That's not to say that they all look real "spiffy" there are a fair number of shiny asses in those suits, but I can say for certain I have not seen a bowler hat which was not that uncommon in the 70s.  Perhaps London will change that . . . or then again maybe not. 

We're just back from a couple of days in Lincoln, another fair size city north and east of here.  We booked in to a B&B that was probably a ten minute walk from the old city centre.  Our immediate impression was not all that positive, it is in a area that is in transition but in the end the landlord made it a totally enjoyable stay.   It was on a street of what I will refer to as "row houses", where they all share a common wall with their neighbours on either side.  They were obviously built by the same builder some time in the late 1800's but each house has it's own unique touches.  They are all one room wide with an entry that opens on to the stairs going up to the second and third levels.  Each of the rooms has a door,  so on one side there is the staircase then a hall with doors in to each of the rooms on the other side.  Some have arched entry ways over the front porch others have wooden gables over the doorstep.  The decorative trim on windows and eaves can very from house to house and yet they are all attached.  Some have house names "the willows" carved in to the brick work, the size of the windows may differ.  Some have been stuccoed and others are just red brick.  The window surround on one may be black and next door it is red or green, even the exterior colour changes down the centre of the building.  They each have a postage stamp sized front garden much like the houses out in the avenues in San Francisco.  Some have stone fences, other just shrubbery, there were iron gates and picket fences and brick walls, in other words, a crazy quilt of all kinds of possibilities.  

Corner Store

The house we were staying in had been purchased from what the current owner described as a little old lady who ran out of money trying to do restoration/refurbishment of the property.  Her intent had always been to create a bed and breakfast but she did have some over the top design ideas.  There were the typical rosettes surrounding the ceiling fixtures in the breakfast room but the chandelier was a very modern chrome and dangly crystal thing. The chair rail was a plaster frieze that was wonderful but the fireplace was an ugly brown something with the place for the fire blocked up.  One corner to the right of the not fireplace had a place about two thirds of the way up the wall a small alcove where someone had installed lighting to showcase a display or flower arrangement.  While the other side had a elaborate plaster panel with an arrangement of fruit.  Naturally enough over the fireplace hung a black and white print of Lincoln Cathedral. 

Tea Things

James provided us with a parking permit and we grabbed our bags to take up stairs to our room.  We were in room four, up a flight and a half of stairs.  Half way up their was another plaster panel of some cherubs frolicking as only cherubs can frolic.  I told you the original owner was somewhat eccentric.  The room was bright and airy, a radiator ran along one wall, at least meant we had control of our fate when it came to the temperature of the room.  Just like any good American motel we had a flat screen TV, a radio and little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash and a plastic hair cap, what more could you ask.  What more you say, well if you are British there is a requirement that you be able to make a cuppa (as in a cup of tea) and that too had been dealt with.   Real cups and saucers, no Styrofoam, real teaspoons, not plastic stir sticks, milk, sugar, hot chocolate, instant coffee, tea bags and the great English invention, an electric kettle.  Electric kettles are a tremendous boon to British society, they have one purpose and one purpose only, to boil water.  No matter whose home you might enter, no matter what time of the day or night you will always be offered a cup of tea.  The kettle is used multiple times a day and does its job admirably.  How primitive our paltry little kettle, set on a burner on the stove, seem in contrast to these stylish wonders.  I said earlier no food, but just to finish off, there were even two packets of biscuits (packages of cookies) which were replenished daily. 




The bathroom had plenty of big fluffy towels and I took a fancy to the mat in the bottom of the tub.  You know those horrible rubber things with the suction cups you typically find to prevent slips in the shower . . . well this one had small little suction cups all the way around the edge, made me think of an octopus and when you pulled it up to move it there was a snap, snap, snap sound.  Just in case you are concerned that I would become so enamoured of  small suctions cups that was not what got my attention.  What I really appreciated was that the top surface was terry towelling and it felt absolutely delightful under foot.  I shall have to keep my eyes open in the shops, perhaps I can find one to bring home.  

Having ensconced ourselves in our room we donned raincoats to brave the weather.  A fifteen minute uphill stroll brought us to The Collection Art & Archaeology Museum.    It is housed in a modern building set among many older dwellings but at least it didn't scream look at me.  Surprise of surprises it was free, as was the other museum we explored, the Lincolshire Life Museum.   They had a delightful travelling exhibit, The Radev Collection Bloomsbury and Beyond, of painting collected by Eddy Sackville-West and Eardley Knollys.  The docent, a round little man with a bald head cheerfully showed us around, expounding on the those instrumental in collecting these pictures and generally making our visit informative as well as entertaining.  


Lincoln Cathedral is at the top of a hill that dominates the landscape.  This is no minor hill, it is a very steep hill, as everyone we spoke to about the place warned us.  Having had sufficient art education for the moment we made our way, by a circuitous fashion, to the top of the hill and the visitor information centre.  We purchased three day passes to the Castle, Cathedral and Bishops Palace.  

First off the castle, something has been here since Roman times and the walls date from 1066 or there abouts (I think).  We walked the wall, which is where the picture of the cathedral was taken.  You get a really magnificent view I am told, however given that once we reached the walkway it began to pour with rain you couldn't prove it by me.  We made our escape to the coffee shop for a spot of tea to wait out the down pour.  That proved unsuccessful so we toured the Victorian era prison and made our escape.  


Dad's computer just crashed and I seem unable to restore it, so have lost all my photos.  Think perhaps the hard drive is toast.  It becomes difficult to tell the story without images.  Just realised you didn't even get a picture of the cathedral, it's pretty amazing.  Try "googling" it.  My momentum seems to have evaporated so will call it quits for now.  Maybe there will be another trip to spark some enthusiasm.  More than that we now have to share a computer, awkward!