Brains SA 4.2% £2.95
Copper Dragon Best Bitter 3.8% £2.85
Stonehenge Pigswill 4.0 % £2.85
Oldershaw Regal Blonde 4.4% £2.95
Caledonian Double Dark Oatmeal Stout 4.6% £2.95
November 13, 2009
Guest Beers 13th November 2009
October 5, 2009
October 3, 2009
Guest Beers, Victoria, Union Road, 2nd October 2009
Phoenix Arizona (4.1%) £2.95
Brewster’s Decadence (4.4%) £2.95
Everard’s Sundance (4.0%) £2.95
Potbelly Aisling (4.0%) £2.85
Weston’s Traditional Cider (6.0%) £3.00
October 1, 2009
consciousness
streamofconsciousnesssittinghereinthekitchentryinghardnotousethe
spacebarandlisteningtoclassicfmontheradiojosephissittingoppositem
ereadinghisbookwhilstisipataglassofchileanmerlotitisveryrelaxingivej
ustfinishedmyfishandchipsbutnotyetclearedthetableoftheremnants
ofthemealanneisoutatanotherofhermeetingsnotsurewhetheritissund
ayschoolteacherspccoreastgateschoolgovernorshannahisupinherro
omiveheardherbutnotseenherjohnhasjustchangedintohispyjamasino
rdertobeallowedtowatchtherestoftopgearandtomhasjustfinishedhis
foodhavingbeenoutatsirenfmandnowgawdonlyknowswhatheisdoing
upinhisroomthatsasnapshotofmylifebetweeneighttwentyandeightt
wentytwoonthursdaythefirstofoctobertwothousandandninewhere
doesthetimego
September 24, 2009
Early morning at Newark Northgate
There’s something about getting up early to travel somewhere. There’s a smell to it, especially if the weather looks as if it is going to be nice. The roads are clear. The journey to the station is a lot quicker than it would have been a couple of hours later. When you get there the car park is fairly empty so you can pick your spot.
This morning I am in Newark Northgate station catching the 06.46 to the big city. The situation is exactly as described above. Last night there was a red sky and so of course this is a pleasant early morning.
On my way in from the car park a man runs past. The 06.26 has just pulled in to the station and he needs to be on it. In my mind he is not going to catch it but looking up at the screen I see that he has two minutes so he is probably ok.
The staff are all in. In fact at the Costa Coffee on platform 1 there are three staff and just me. I grab a latte and a croissant and make my way to the waiting room. There’s no one else on the platform although a couple of newspaper readers have staked out the waiting room. Detectives with nobody to watch but each other.
Gradually, as we approach train time, the platform is starting to fill up. Someone strikes up a conversation in the waiting room. That first word seems almost like a wake up call. The transition of night into day. It has disturbed my reverie.
The imminent arrival of the train is announced and I emerge from the comfort of the waiting room to stand on the platform. Outside the day has definitely arrived. Whirring noises and chatty teenagers mix with still stony-faced commuters steeling themselves for another day down their pit. I get on the train and leave Newark behind…
later
the masses wash onboard at Peterborough, disrupt the carriage and settle into their own personal mode of survival. Internet access slows to a snails pace or goes into reverse, resuming normal service
September 18, 2009
5.30 am
It’s early but I’m up. When you’re awake you’re awake. So I’m sat here on the settee in the front room.
Although we live slap bang in the middle of town there is a silence about the place at this time in the morning. It’s an unusual contrast of noise and no noise. I can hear lorries as they drive past outside. I don’t normally notice the noise of the traffic outside. I’m used to it.
Then there’s the clock. I didn’t even know it ticked but I can hear it clearly now. At first when I heard it I thought to myself “that’s a clock ticking! It must be in another room”. Upon investigation I realised that it was the clock on the mantlepiece in the room where I was sat. Amazing! My life will probably never be the same again. Every time I walk into this room I will hear the clock ticking. I’m not sure that this is a change for the good.
Ah well. It must all point to our house being a noisy house though because I don’t notice any of these sounds during the day. Actually the traffic is now also irritating me. How dare it intrude. I don’t hear it when I’m in bed and the bedroom is on the same side of the house as where I’m sat now – the double glazing in the bedroom probably accounts for that.
At 5.44 I can hear Tom move about above me. It isn’t natural for a teenager to be up this early ?. It’s still very dark out although there are plenty of lights in town. They seem to contrast with the darkness. There is dark and there is light. No in between.
The traffic has died down again but the clock still ticks…
September 17, 2009
August 21, 2009
June 24, 2009
Early morning at the petrol station
It’s the beginning of a hot day in Lincoln and after dropping John off at school I take the car to fill up with petrol. The smell of the petrol and the whirring of the pumps says to me that this won’t be a pleasant place to be as the morning moves into midday. It feels inner city, radiating concrete with little relief from the sun.
At home the back doors are already open and I hear the birds calling to each other in the garden. They are enjoying themselves. I can almost hear them say “this is why we come here every summer”. I too am relaxed. Tom bustles about upstairs but everyone else is out of the house.
June 23, 2009
the excitement of the trip
I’m pretty much all packed. A few toiletries to sort out in the morning. Passport retrieved from hibernation and fresh ironed clothes tidily, for now, tucked into the bag. Tonight is my last proper night of sleep. Tomorrow I will be on the plane, overnight, and then five late nights and forced mornings, before another overnighter back on the plane home.
The feeling isn’t quite the same as I imagine trips of old to be. The farewell dinner with best friends and loved ones. Next morning taking the trunk down to the railway station and then on to the harbour for departure on a lengthy voyage. The ceremonial crossing of the equator. Dressing for dinner on board. Interminable days of seasickness followed by long periods of intolerable heat.
The idea that I can fly for twelve hours to the far side of the earth, party for five days and then fly back doesn’t seem right. Still, everyone on the trip is excited and I can see this excitement heightening tomorrow morning as the party, from all over the country, diversely makes its way to London Airport for the departure. We even have people from as far as Dublin and New York joining the trip.
It is twilight now. Nearly ten o’clock at night at the height of the British summer. In South Africa it will be dark at this time, Lions roaring and birds screeching, night time in the wilderness. At this time on Thursday I will be gathering around a watering hole, probably singing myself, just like the lions in their own way. Hopefully tunefully.
June 20, 2009
Tomorrow is the longest day
It sounds like a dramatic post title, “the longest day”. It doesn’t, though, refer to some forthcoming ordeal, an adventure where the aircraft crashes in the jungle and it takes forever to be rescued. Tomorrow is actually the longest day. June 21st, the summer equinox.
It is somewhat disconcerting because it implies the summer, and I mean the period of semi nice weather rather than the specific season, the cricket season if you like, is half way through already. Aargh.
Wimbledon is about to start. Good. I can identify with tennis nowadays since I took John to see it last year. We saw Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal and Venus Williams in separate matches on Centre Court. A great introduction proper to the sport.
We also spent lots of money. An “official” towel was £24. We bought two. That’s roughly 20 pints of bitter’s worth for anyone reading this in the future and trying to calibrate that cost. Still we had a great day out.
The first test against the Aussies is also about to start. Another pointer to this being the height of summer. I have mixed feelings about this one. The last time they were over was probably the greatest test series ever. It is unlikely to be repeated this time but we shall see.
Anyway the effect of course of it being the longest day is that it is light both very early and very late and it is at that first part of the day that I now sit in the conservatory tapping out this conversation.
It is not a particularly nice day out. Typical British summer weather really. There is breeze and cloud although this will not stop me from putting on my shorts today. There is also a sparrow pecking away at the patio outside. I can’t say I regularly see a sparrow in the back garden but he is very welcome.
Since I sat down to write this morning the noise of the birds has grown louder. I’m surprised that I was up before them. I suppose we all need our fair quota of sleep.
Looking out into the garden I can see the detritus of childhood. A broken football goal, a football, a giant tennis ball, some football cones, a cricket catching practice net, a trampoline and a slide that must now be 12 or 13 years old and has very well withstood the rigours of its dozen British winters. It doesn’t get used much anymore.
The door of the shed that keeps all the outdoor toys stands half open. It has to go someday soon. The toys are no longer used, just like the playhouse, a treasure in its time but now occupied solely with the storage of garden furniture.
The wheelbarrow on the patio is filled with compost and has been planted with long stemmed white flowers. I know not their make. The chimeniere hides behind them.
Enough of these musings. Tomorrow is the longest day which means that today is nearly as long so I must get on with it and go and make Anne a cup of tea. It is still early but there is a lot of day to cram things into so lets go!
May 31, 2009
A work of sculpture by Tom Davies and James Geary
“How fair is a garden amid the toils and passions of existence?”
Benjamin Disraeli
Throughout history there have been countless examples of man flexing his technological muscle. Yet, despite all our progress we are still to become the planet’s dominant force. The fact, which the human race seems incapable of comprehending, is that man can never conquer nature, and it is this what we have tried to portray in our work.
The apple is a gift to man from nature and fruit is a core part of our existence. Without his five a day, man would suffer from not having a balanced diet. This said, it is typical of him to wantonly disregard it. When the nail is driven through the fruit it begins to decompose, typifying the destruction of ‘our’ natural world. The fruit becomes inedible and sustenance must be sought elsewhere. If left long enough, the apple will rot to the extent that it completely disappears. Though nailed to the board, the fact remains that it cannot remain there forever. Mankind will never pin down nature.
OR
We wanted to nail an apple to a bit of wood and see if it would win the House Arts and Craft competition at school.
May 23, 2009
The kitchen
A sirloin steak, rare, 2 minutes on the first side and 1 minute on the second, coated in crushed black pepper.
A simple salad , lettuce, vine tomatoes and spring onions with olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar dressing.
Caramelised red onions and whole button mushrooms cooked in their own juices.
Salt, pepper and Dijon mustard.
Wolf Blass, Yellow Label, South Australia, Cabernet Sauvignon 2007.
Crusty white bread with butter.
Blackness outside.
Silence.
May 4, 2009
My Lovely Mum
My Lovely Mum,
Your food is scrum,
Your huncles are warm,
You do the housework as quick as a storm,
You buy me presents,
But don’t shoot pheasants.
From John. firstpharmacyuk
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