Question

as asked by not one but two of my offspring.: ...”What are the Terracotta Warriors made of?” Answers please on the back of a postcard.

Xian is a city with a population of about 8 million people. It is also undergoing massive reconstruction, and much of this is due to it being the location of the Terracotta Army. What I had not known previously was that Xian – historically known as Cháng'ān was the capital of China for over a thousand years including the duration of the Tang Dynasty (AD 618 – 907). (I can’t help myself with the historical details – I blame my education.) Because of this it is an archeologist’s paradise. As you drive from the airport to the city there are burial mounds in every direction – emperors, empresses, princes, princesses, concubines, rich courtiers....

A word now in praise of A&K. When one sees the word ‘Museum’ crop up on ones itinerary it isn’t guaranteed to gladden the heart, even with an old foggie like me – but we visited four museums in the 48 hours we spent in Xian and every visit was superb. Basically our guide in the city made sure we saw the highlights including this lady – one of 13 ‘Fat ladies’.



The porcelain we saw was simply astonishing in that it looked exactly like the kind of things up market stores like Heals and Harrods would sell today – simple, classic designs – yet they were 1500 years old.

It would be an unusual visitor to Xian however who did not come away saying that the visit to the Terracotta Warriors was not the highlight of their stay there. Reidski and I did go to the exhibition in the British Museum last year, but nothing could ever prepare you for the first site of 1200 of these unearthed warriors in row after row, there to defend the Emperor Qin Shi (BC 221-210) throughout his afterlife. I deliberately avoided looking until such time as I was stood right at the front and would have a clear view of them. I nearly collapsed when I did focus upon them.




Qin must have been truly remarkable. He was the first Emperor to unify China- and lets not forget just how fucking big China is. How would one even start to unify an area that huge even with the communications and transport systems we have today? He standardized money, as well as weights and measures, and he began the construction of the Great Wall...not personally like – he had many thousands of minions to do that – even after he had set many other thousands of minions to work on his tomb.

For those who don’t know the story of the discovery of the warriors in 1974 9 farmers were digging a well when about 12 feet down they discovered a sizable chunk of one. They took it along to the museum and – not unusually Xian being the aforementioned archeologist’s paradise, there was a visiting archeologist there who was intrigued enough by this particular find to go back to the area and start digging. Thus began the unearthing of what they believe will total an army of 8,000 warriors by the time they have finished. I should say – by the time they have finished digging that particular section. Qin’s tomb is over a kilometer away. He was preparing everything he would need in his afterlife and so far they haven’t found a single woman. Even in the event that Qin was a confirmed bachelor he would need them for the cleaning – there is so much more to be found – let alone what will be in his tomb itself. Scripts that have been unearthed talk of rivers made of mercury and stars made of diamonds and pearls. I really hope I live long enough to hear what is actually in there.

Incidentally, if the farmers had dug one metre to the east they would not have found anything. They just happened to come across a warrior in the very front row, and in the left hand corner.

The museum, very sensibly, is built on the site of the discoveries. The Chinese seem to do this quite a lot – another museum we visited in Xian (The Hanyangling Museum) is actually underground so you walk alongside the treasures from an emperor’s tomb at the level they were discovered...over 3,000 of those thus far!

Millions of people have visited Xian since the Warriors were discovered, and so it was interesting to learn that the 9 farmers received $400 in recognition of their find – between them. This was after all Communist China and everyone had the same income. However, as they saw the area transformed financially because of their find they went back to the authorities and argued they should be entitled to more. That argument ran and ran. Following the death of Mao though a deal was reached whereby the farmers take turns in the museum gift shop (home of the £12 fridge magnet) and sign the guide book. For doing this they get a percentage of each book sold. There are only four of them left alive now.

The museum gift shop also sells, in addition to signed guide books and vastly overpriced fridge magnets, life size terracotta warriors. Some of these (my children please take note) are made from terracotta. Some are made in solid jade. “Who in their right mind? “we wondered, “would buy one of them?” This question was partially answered on our return to England. My car was at the home of or friend who funded this trip. She lives in Loughton, Essex. As we drove in our mini bus down her road I saw a terracotta warrior in her neighbour’s driveway. No one believed me so we had to reverse and have a proper look, but sure enough, just round the bend from where Anne lives someone who may or may not be in their right mind, has a life sized terracotta warrior in their front garden. There truly is ‘Nowt so queer as folk.'

Schadenfreude

If one stays in the Peninsular Suite at the Peninsular Hotel Beijing one gets the free* use of a brand new Rolls Royce during ones stay. In fact the hotel has two such vehicles, as well as 6 7 series BMW's - all in the company colours of a very dark and sophisticated green. These cars are parked in a perfectly synchronised formation in front of the hotel foyer.

Spare a thought then for the poor taxi driver who on the morning of our departure from Beijing had the misfortune to bump into the front of one of these extremely expensive vehicles provoking consternation amongst the hotel staff, and hilarity amongst every passer by.



*Although if you are tempted I should point out that the suite in question costs five grand a night.

This is not a complaint but

Because we were travelling with Abercrombie and Kent hereafter to be known as A & K, who provide very luxurious tours indeed, there was an assumption made that we were all 13 of us extremely wealthy. Our retail ‘opportunities’ offered as part of the trip included visits to pearl markets and silk factories where it would have been nice if there was a single item for sale that we could actually afford. My guide book warned to be alert for trips to the Great Wall that could include unwanted diversions to cloisonné workshops and jade factories. Ours managed to include both of these, the first of them cunningly disguised as a toilet stop.

As I mentioned before we left, the thought of the toilets in China filled me with horror, but in fact all facilities that the clients of A & K were confronted with were better than anything we encounter in England. On this particular morning though our guide said we would stop for the toilet break at this spot because they were much cleaner than those by the Wall itself. They just happened to be at a cloisonné workshop.
This is a multi-step enamel process used to produce jewellery, vases etc. Hummm- all very nice stuff, but rather on the pricey side. I was just about to buy a Christmas decoration for the tree when my son pointed out to me it actually cost £12.00 rather than the £1.20 I had calculated. If only he had been there to save me from buying the fridge magnet which cost me a bloody fiver. A rather expensive toilet stop – it cost one of our party over 200 quid!

Small diversion here on the subject of fridge magnets. As Reidski well knows (he has a fridge covered with magnets from my various trips) I do like to get fridge magnets when I am away. The one in this story cost me a fiver. They wanted £12 for one at the Terracotta Warriors museum (they didn’t get it though as thankfully I had sussed the exchange rate by then). £1.50 for the exact same magnet in Xian itself – and £1.00 in a village outside Shanghai. So shop around for your fridge magnets in China people!

So onwards to see The Great Wall. We went to Mutianyu (90 kilometers northeast of Beijing) which opened in 1986, which was designated by the Beijing Government in 1987 as one of the 16 most scenic spots in China. This section of the Wall was begun in A.D. 600 and reconstructed 1,000 years later. The main section stretches for 2.5 kilometers, and is punctuated by 22 watchtowers, including three connected bastions to the lowest part of the pass. We were very lucky to be there on a beautiful clear day and we could literally see mile after mile of the Wall wending its way over the mountain tops.







Now I appreciate that 2.5 kilometers doesn’t sound like far, and that the following risks making me sound like a right out of condition slob, but I did get to the end of the section that is open to visitors, along with three others from our group of 13, and if I have done anything more strenuous in my entire life, then the pain of that particular exercise what ever it may have been must have been so dreadful I have managed to get rid of that memory completely. I wish these photos could show exactly how steep it was – especially in the last part which is the last bit of Wall you can see in the middle picture – because I can’t describe how tough the going was. It was also extremely hot and humid. It also took simply ages. In fact we were supposed to have been back at our coach when we still weren’t quite at the end. Being a law abiding sort of person myself I was worried that we should turn back but as one of the other four said we weren’t ever going to get the chance to make this walk again, and anyway – “The coach won’t leave without us.” So we did make it....a triumphant moment, only slightly marred by the realisation that we now had to get all the way back.

The coach did not in point of fact wait for us. (Although our guide did, and we caught up with the others eventually via a taxi ride.) Our guide told us that it is very rare for his clients to walk the entire stretch of Wall - especially rare for clients of A & K who generally just take the chair lift up, take a few photos, and go back down again. I am so very glad I did it. My h ours spent at the gym have not been in vain.

After a wonderful lunch in which I must have consumed about a million calories at least, we went on to visit the Ming Tombs, which comprise the burial chambers of 13 Ming Emperors plus countless wives, concubines and assorted high ranking eunuchs (complete with their precious parts we hope).
The site of the Ming Dynasty Imperial Tombs , which is stunningly beautiful, was carefully chosen according to Feng Shui principles, which are still taken very seriously in China today (more on that when I get to our trip to Shanghai).

A seven kilometer road named the "Spirit Way" (Shen dao) leads into the complex, lined with statues of guardian animals and officials.

This is me with My Little Pony. Thankfully we did not have to walk all the 7 kilometers – some of us still hadn’t dried out from our earlier walk.

The day was rounded off with the aforementioned visit to the jade factory. “Oh lovely – the finest quality apple green jade used for this necklace. A mere £90,000 too. Moving swiftly on....” As I say, the expectation was that we could afford this stuff. I don’t even think I like jade very much myself.

Random bits from Beijing.

First impressions were amazement at the beautiful Terminal 3 at Beijing airport (designed partly by Norman Foster, and larger than all five Heathrow terminals combined), and astonishment at the sheer number of ultra modern skyscrapers in the city. Everywhere we visited we heard the same story of massive investment in building work over the past 10 to 15 years transforming the appearance of the cities. Most of the investment though is centred on the Eastern side of China whilst the middle lags behind considerably and the West is still virtually untouched by modernisation.

So dramatic is the redevelopment in Beijing that it took one individual to draw attention to the fact that if some of the old buildings were not preserved no one would know what the original Beijing looked like. Because of his foresight an area has now been protected called the Hutong and we visited a family living there. Madam was none too impressed with the changes that had taken place around her – least of all the now thriving night life that has sprung up in this quaint and previously quiet, part of town. She did however take our visit as an opportunity to try and flog us some of her husband’s paintings which she displayed on her wooden clothes horse. They were very good.

It is now 30 years since China was once again opened up to the outside world, yet throughout our trip, and most noticeably in Beijing, we were the object of curiosity and interest. We kept being asked to pose for photographs with the Chinese, and others would none too subtly video our group, although my blond haired, blue eyed daughter was in particular demand – we should have charged for each photo taken of her! Whilst initially this seemed unexpected in Beijing it was explained that the vast majority of tourists to Beijing, not surprisingly really, are Chinese. Many of these tourists are from areas that scarcely ever see a Westerner and it was these people who were so fascinated by us.

The changes Chinese people of my age have seen during their lifetime are quite staggering – let alone what their parents’ generation have experienced. Our guide in Beijing was born in 1964. When he was growing up if he didn’t want to eat up all his dinner his mother would say “But you must eat all your food. Don’t you know that in America and Britain the poor children are starving?” The first wave of American tourists soon put paid to that illusion!

Less than a hundred years ago there were still eunuchs at the Imperial Court. Some actually volunteered for ‘the cut’ as it could be a lucrative career. The actual operation was performed by a ‘knifer’. The patient would be given a herbal infusion meant to anaesthetize (let’s hope it was effective), and was then held down and sliced with a specially designed knife. A metal plug was then inserted in the urethra and he was made to walk immediately. No food or urination was allowed for three days. The plug was then taken out and if he could urinate at that point it meant he would probably live. The severed penis and testicles, known as the ‘Precious’ were carefully kept by each eunuch as they needed to be shown when ever they were on the brink of progressing to a higher level of service. Sometimes they got nicked so they would have to borrow a colleagues ‘Precious’. They also needed them when they died in order to gain entry to heaven as men – though some may feel it would all be a bit too late by then. The reason the eunuchs were required within the Imperial Household was to ensure that only the Emperor and his male heirs got to shag the concubines and that their offspring were guaranteed to be the Sons or Daughters of Heaven.




Chairman Mao must be spinning in his grave. Designer goods were on sale all over the city – as well as some very convincing fakes. Attitudes towards Mao seem to verge from veneration, through acceptance that he did some good things as well as having made some horrendous errors, to those of the teenagers “Yeah. I’ve heard of him – but he’s ancient history man!” If you can see some writing high up on the hillside on the photo of the Great Wall ,that says something like ‘Worship Mao,’ and only appeared a few years ago. Tiananmen Square is the largest square in the world – it is said to be able to hold a million people, and the queue of people waiting to see Mao in his mausoleum wound round the square at least twice. The people we saw waiting must be there still – although we were reliably informed that his body was badly embalmed and decomposed so was replaced by a wax work copy.

Our guide told us that when the massacre occurred he had a group of Australian tourists who cut their trip short because of it. He thus had some free time and the brother of one of his friends was missing so he went round the hospitals to see if they could find him. This man was a medical student who had just qualified. He had not been one of the protestors but had gone to the Square to assist with some of the students who had been on hunger strike. They eventually found him in a mortuary with four bullet holes across his chest. The Chinese government says 27 people died in the square that day. Following the massacre the paving in the square was all replaced with marble. Locals say this is because blood doesn’t stain marble.

Some of our family and friends were worried we may have been caught up in the typhoon that hit Eastern China whilst we were there. I guess the rain that fell in bucket loads on the first Sunday afternoon must have been connected to what was going on elsewhere, but it was the only time we got rained upon – as the photo hopefully shows there was rather a lot of it that day.



Coming next – how I sprinted up the Great Wall of China. Or should that read how I staggered up the Great Wall of China????

I just don't know where to begin

So how about with Beijing, which was where our holiday did in fact begin....albeit not without an anxious 'We are going to get sent back' moment.

The Chinese are taking no risks with swine flu. Upon our arrival at the airport all staff were wearing face masks. We had to walk through sensors which took our temperatures automatically. Imagine our alarm when my daughter and another girl travelling with us were then immediately hauled into a medical check area for further investigations. Thankfully both of them passed the subsequent checks and we were allowed to enter The People's Republic of China. And thus began a truly sensational twelve days.

Whilst in Beijing itself (or Peking if you are from Southern China)we visited the Summer Palace; a family living in the Hutong which are some of the typical housing areas of which the majority have been demolished to make way for the skyscrapers that now constitute most of Beijing; The Forbidden Palace,The Temple of Heaven and various restaurants and markets.

The most surreal moments occurred in a park adjacent to the Forbidden City. We saw a middle aged Chinese woman dancing to music by a traditional Chinese band. We stopped and applauded her. This prompted three other women to join her and commence dancing to some Chinese tune, whilst urging us to join them. I threw dignity to the wind and joined in, as did my eldest, and after a while the remaining teenagers in our party. We made it through the dance and thought that was enough - a large crowd having already gathered to laugh at the Westerners attempts at Chinese dance styles. But no - the band then broke into (and this was somewhat incongruous) 'Jingle Bells', and followed this up very swiftly, and before we had time to make our escape,with ' I Come from Alabama with a Banjo on my Knee.' We were finally allowed to leave after participating in a Chinese folk song in which we got the hang of the chorus which consisted of shouting the word 'Hoy!' very loudly. Apparently the song translated to say that if you smile every day you will look ten years younger. We certainly made lots of Chinese people smile that day.


Have so much to say about this incredibly wonderful country that I have no doubt I will bore the arse of anyone who still pops by this place - but please stick with me over the next few weeks - I really do have a wealth of wonderful stories to share.

Vacation, vacation

Well unbelievably I am off to China tomorrow. I won’t actually arrive there until Saturday morning – complete with my first proper experience of jet lag no doubt. My trip will include Beijing, Xian (this will be so helpful if my A-Z travels ever get as far as ‘X’!) , a three day cruise down the Yangzi River, and will end in Shanghai* where my son will get to celebrate his 18th birthday. (When I was his age I had never even been on an aeroplane.)

We are so incredibly lucky to have a friend as wonderful and generous as the lady who is paying for a total of 13 of us to have this amazing trip.

I know it is going to be a series of extraordinary experiences although I am hoping to avoid the experience of the public toilets there if remotely possible (described in my guide book with words like ‘squalid’ and filthy’).

I have never been anywhere humid before and so the fact that the humidity is currently up to 92 in some of the places we are going to doesn’t mean an awful lot to me right now – maybe just as well huh?

Don’t know if I will get on- line whilst I am there but I will try really hard not to alienate visitors to this place by droning on infinitum about the wonders of the Orient for too long after my return.

Back on the 20th. Till then I love you (in different degrees depending upon whether or not I sleep with you), and leave you (but I will be back soon).






*Note for Yorkshire Pudding – I had thought we were going to Hong Kong but arrangements were altered. I think I have more than enough to look forward to regardless.

Don't miss

Manuel on Paris.


"I was determine not to let any small incidents of fisting get in the way of enjoying my trip."

Has my absence made your hearts grow fonder?

Never mind – I’m thick skinned and I plough on regardless ;-)

Reidski and I have had a few days away and we stayed in Lancaster.

We got up early the first morning there determined to make the most of our time in the city. Our first trip was to the Tourist Information Office – which was shut. So we walked up to the (very impressive) castle – which was shut. Undeterred we walked down to the Maritime Museum (strange but true fact – Lancaster used to have a thriving port) and you will already have guessed that that was also shut. So having got up and about early we found ourselves killing time in Reidski’s idea of hell – the local shopping centre. I can tell you that Lancaster shopping centre looks remarkably like every other shopping centre in the UK.

We did eventually visit both the Maritime Museum and the Museum of Lancaster. Returning briefly to a previous topic regarding how when one lives in a place one never does what is on ones doorstep, Reidski had been in Lancaster for less than 18 hours and went to its Maritime Museum. He has lived near Greenwich for more than 18 years and only went to the Maritime Museum there last April.

Picked up one or two little snippets of information in the museums as one does. I learnt that John of Gaunt (Father of the Lancastrian king Henry IV, and known in Shakespeare as 'Time- Honoured Lancaster") spent precisely 9 days of his life in Lancaster. I also learnt that before the railways travellers went to the Lake District on horse drawn coaches across Morecombe Bay when the tide was out. We went to Morecombe Bay and very attractive it is too but what with all the quick sand around I wouldn’t want to cross it by any means other than boat. It was very easy to understand how this disaster happened there.

Should you ever find yourself in Lancaster this pub was superb.

We came back via the Peak District, stopping off for a walk round Buxton which I have just learnt is the self styled Cultural Capital of the Peak District, and continuing on for a bite to eat here. The Good Pub Guide describes this place as an’ Unpretentious local with very tasty home-cooking’, and very accurate that description is too. I had what the menu listed as ‘Chicken fillet’. The sauce it came in had no fancy title but was described as being ‘delightful’ – which was true. Reidski had a steak sandwich which came in a ‘cob’ the size of a dinner plate and the ‘few chips’ that according to the menu were served on the side was actually a chip mountain. We both agreed the place had obviously not been altered one iota in the past forty years and it was a surprise for me just now when I found the place has a website . It was an even greater surprise to find in this ancient village pub, the trendiest toilets that I have ever encountered.

We finished our break with a walk in beautiful Dove Dale.

No pictures yet as Blogger doesn't seem to want to co-operate with them just now.


And now back to work – groan – for all of four days before I jet off to the Far East – hooray.

More on that to follow.

Much more I suspect.

Westminster Abbey

As I said in a comment recently to Gill – when I lived in London I hardly ever visited galleries, cathedrals etc, and I am only now starting to tick some of them off. It was only last year that I went to the Tate for the first time (shameful I know).


On Saturday Reidski and I made our first trip to Westminster Abbey.
It was a complete revelation. For all the times I must have seen the inside of it on the tele , Di’s funeral etc, I had no idea just how ornate it actually is, with over 600 elaborate memorials and monuments packed into it. Some of them pretty freaky like this one.




And it is a 1,000 years old. A door there is said to have been there since 1050. No built in obsolescence in those days.

As a historian of sorts, to stand next to the tomb of Elizabeth I is pretty mind blowing, as is seeing the spot where Oliver Cromwell lay – for all of two years before he was dug up to have his body well and truly desecrated.

I did have a moment when I nearly had to smack someone. In Poet’s Corner I went to search for the memorial to Wilfred Owen. His is one name in a list of war poets engraved on the floor. Just as I spotted him, some oaf put his foot right on top of Owen’s name. I was outraged! Mind you, should a certain female prime minister ever end up in the Abbey I think there may be long queues of people all wanting to stamp on her grave.

It wasn’t cheap - £15 each, but the website explains that the Abbey receives no regular funding from The Crown, the Church of England or the government. It states “Neither a cathedral nor a parish church, Westminster Abbey was established as a ‘Royal Peculiar’ in 1560 by Queen Elizabeth I. The Abbey is outside the jurisdiction and responsibility of the Church of England and the Government. In short, this means we must seek our own financial support.” It seems that the million plus visitors they get each year are still not enough to meet their overheads. So here’s a suggestion. Seeing as how the queen was crowned there, has many of her predecessors buried there including her namesake, got married there, most probably will have her funeral there, and as she is one of the richest persons on the planet, estimated at being worth around 40 billion pounds sterling (all the residences, pieces of art, royal collection, the lands, the ships and the financial resources hold by the monarch) – how about she dips into her pocket to fund the place?

Yeah right . Dream on JJ. She didn’t get so rich by giving any of it away don’t you know?

I'm good but....

Caller: "I just found out my dad got another woman pregnant so I have a half brother. Can you find him for me? He was adopted. I don't know what his surname was, but his first name was Kenneth. He would be in his early 20's. "

Me: "Well that narrows it down."

.....I'm not that bloody good.

She did think she knew the woman's first name - but she couldn't be sure.

So I told her to sod off and stop bothering me ;-)

C is for

Cogenhoe which is a village near where I live.

A prize will be awarded to anyone who is able to tell me how Cogenhoe is pronounced.

Decided this is too difficult so will have to tell you that for those in the know, Cogenhoe is pronounced 'Cook - know'. God knows why.

But I am not going to write about Cogenhoe even though I have indeed been there on several occasions.

There are two English counties that I just love which both begin with C and they are Cornwall and Cumbria. I have gone on recently about the innumerable delights of Cornwall, so I am going to talk about Cumbria today, although obviously there will be nothing original I can possibly say that William Wordsworth hasn’t already covered. Such are the little challenges we bloggers do face.

Carlisle is of course in Cumbria. It is not an issue for my family this coming season as by managing to get ourselves relegated we are no longer in the same league as Carlisle, but the last time we went to Cumbria it was on account of the football fixture list. “Can we go to Carlisle away?” is the question I always get asked by my insanely fanatical Cobblers fan of an eldest son. This particular season I said “Only if we draw them away in August. If we do we will have a week in the Lakes at the same time.” We drew them away in the August, and that was how a group of 9 members of my family (it kind of escalated) came to be in Keswick the week leading up to the Big Match – Northampton Town v Carlisle. One of those family members was my niece, then aged 8. My niece will be given the last word in this post. (She always likes to have the last word.)



I have been to the Lake District many times. I’ve been up Helvellyn via the notorious Striding Edge, and I have been up Great Gable, but I have yet to go up Scafell Pike. In common with many other parents over the years, I have taken my kids up Catbells for their first real hill climbing experience. Also in common with those other parents over the years, it was mainly a nightmare of moaning and complaining, until they reached the top and then I had to listen to the bragging about how easy it had been. Choosing a favourite spot in Cumbria would be difficult, but I have to say that I can see why Alfred Wainwright chose Haystacks as the spot where he wanted to have his ashes scattered. The views in every direction are breath taking. I am so jealous of Gill and
Karen who both live in this wonderful county.

This particular week was mainly (as is so often the case) wet. In fact it was very, very wet. There was serious flooding and we thanked our lucky stars that on this occasion we were in a house and not camping. I am afraid very few hours went past that week without someone (and very often it would have been me) complaining about why the bloody hell we had to draw a match against Carlisle this of all weeks? Holidays often have a theme. Ours was very definitely the fact that we were in rain sodden Cumbria all on account of a bloody football match against Carlisle.

The day of the match dawned and off we went to Carlisle. My niece and sister for reasons that can only be attributed to sanity did not come to the match, which as you will by now be aware was against Carlisle, but went shopping instead in Carlisle town centre. They came to meet us at the ground after the game which we, and all of 125 other Cobbler fans, had seen us win 1-0. My sister told me that as they approached the ground my niece asked a security guard who had won. ‘”Northampton” he replied. “Oh good, “ she said. “Who were we playing?”

Errh, that would probably have been Carlisle sweetheart.

My niece had obviously spent the entire week managing not to listen to a single word any of us said – nothing new there of course.

In which the past came back to haunt me..

I do not have happy memories of my first secondary school. From September 1970 to May 1974 I was one of the ‘scholarship gals’ (ie I passed the 11+) at Northampton High School for Girls.

It was at the time a direct grant school which meant that whilst it was mainly a fee paying school, under sufferance they would accept a limited number of pupils who did not pay because that way they received some additional funding from the government..

Some of the girls there had been in the school since they were kindergarten age. To say it was a culture shock for those of us joining the school at age 11 is an understatement. I remember a uniform and equipment list that ran to three pages in length. This included both outdoor shoes and indoor shoes, as well as regulation navy blue knickers. All items (knickers included) had to have our name tag sown in them – it must have taken my mother the best part of a week – and yes we did have regulation inspections to ensure those tags were there. Yes – they did inspect our knickers too for goodness sake.

Two memories of my first year – or should I say my Upper Third year (how jolly hockey sticks does that sound?) stand out. One was from our Speech lesson. Yes – they did attempt to teach us how to speak. Only aged 11 I didn’t quite get that bit. We had to learn a poem for homework, and come back and recite it to the class. I learnt ‘I remember, I remember, the house where I was born.’ Word perfect then, word perfect now - it has stayed with me. Anyway, one line in particular stays with me about how the sun never’ brought too long a day’. I had to say that over and again and simply did not understand what the problem was. With the benefit of some wisdom acquired over my years at that school I later learnt the problem was my Northamptonshire accent – with particular reference to my ‘A’s’. ‘ Aaaa Daaaay.’ I also learnt that according to the teachers ‘Off’ was pronounced ‘Orrrffff.’ I did not previously know that!

The other memory was of Writing class (Writing AND Speech!). We never had lined exercise books as lined paper was unladylike (and more expensive). Anyway week in week out my writing was marked B+. Until that was, the day my teacher found out my parents had a pub and thereafter my writing was B- every single week.

We used to get a coach to our sports fields as they were some distance away. Unbelievably, what ever year we were in, we had to get changed into our gym kit on the coach. I don’t think that would happen these days!

I guess one either conformed at the school or one rebelled. I was in the second category, and by my fourth year (Lower Fifth) my card was well and truly marked. My physics report that year noted ‘Jane makes absolutely no effort’. Although it didn’t seem it at the time, my parents moving us to Skegness was the saving of me academically. As a new girl in what was happily a normal fifth year as opposed to a stupid Upper Fifth I got down to work and did well. That would never have happened at Northampton.

So having said all that, why on earth did I find myself on Saturday afternoon at a High School reunion? And how come I enjoyed myself so much? It was all girls who had been in my year. It has to be said that some have aged somewhat better than others. I did feel pretty bad assuming Judith D must have been an old teacher but I think I talked my way out of that faux pas. It was interesting to realise that most of them had hated the place too. Always fun to find yourself with people with whom you share common experiences from the past and to see old photos – I did have the widest pointy collars in the whole world (surely?), and the shortest skirt no question. Looking though at letters sent home that inexplicably some people had kept and brought along it really did reek of a bygone era. One letter warned girls to keep their purses with them at all times as leaving them in the cloakrooms provided ‘Temptation for the weak minded amongst our community.’ The thought that I ever received a letter written in such a style makes me feel far older that I thought poor Judith D actually was.

But all in all, a great afternoon, and hopefully some old friendships have been truly revived once again.

Guess the price

of obtaining a visa, advertised by the Chinese Embassy as costing £30.00, to enter China as a tourist.

You might suppose as I did that it would be £30.00 but you would be wrong like I was.

Because you were recommended a company called Visa Swift by travel agents arranging your trip you might expect to pay something on top of £30.00 for their service, but you would probably expect that something on top to be half way reasonable. But no.

You might expect that the website of Visa Swift to which the travel agents directed you, would make their charges clear. Wrong again.

You might even expect that if you spoke to not one of their representatives but to two, trying to ascertain just exactly what it was they needed from you that charges might have been explained. Just plain wrong.

You might not expect to be charged £109.14 per visa (My children are coming on this trip too).


It has taken me four days to be able to speak of this. I've done the tears, I've done the blind fury. Now I just want to warn as many people as possible not to use these charlatans who say they can help you obtain a travel visa.

(Not exactly impressed with the travel agents either.)




P.S. Before anyone thinks that if I can afford for my whole family to go to China I can afford the cost of the visas, the same lovely woman who took us to South Africa, Lapland, Dublin and Egypt is paying for this further trip of a lifetime. In that respect I do of course know that I am incredibly lucky, and it is that thought that has just about enabled me to calm down over the visa charges.

To laugh or to cry?

My favourite obsession - yes, I have been on the Daily Mail website AGAIN - has photos of Jerry Hall on the beach. Aged 53, shock, horror, the Daily Mail who is so notoriously hard to please when it comes to women's bodies, is quite impressed.

But not so all their commentators. I give you the words of 'A' from Aldershot:


She looks nothing at all special to me. And if she didn't have all that money and time to spend on herself i dread to think what she'd look like. Sorry, but it is a fact that a woman's appeal fades away over the age of around 40, whereas a man can remain ferttile and attractive into his 80s. I'm 82, my girlfriend is 29 and a model.
- a, Aldershot, 15/7/2009 8:44



Any suggestions as to how one could respond politely to such a total arsehole/ fantastist?

Or should we just torture him to death?

Have you seen this chicken?

Police are appealing for information after two men climbed a garden fence to steal a chicken from a Northampton garden.


Witnesses or anyone with information about the whereabouts of the chicken is asked to contact police on 03000 111 222 or Crimestoppers anonymously on 0800 555 111.

B is for

Is for Brighton, but it always cold when I go to Brighton – even when the rest of the country was enjoying a heatwave back in 2006 it managed to be cold when I went to Brighton with Reidski so I am not going to write about that. It is also for Bocastle in Cornwall, but I wrote about my visit there back in February and one must try not to repeat oneself.

And it is for Beijing – only I haven’t been there (yet, but thanks to me having the most generous friend in the entire universe, I will be going there in August).

So today B is for Birmingham. I went to Birmingham in April. I didn’t write about it then as I needed some time to get over it...and when I was over it, I had managed to blank it from my memory bank, but now it all comes back to me in its full technicolor horror. I do not refer here to Birmingham itself but to the reason that I was in Birmingham....

‘Dancing on Ice Live’.


Let’s get that part over with first. I got stuck with taking three teenage girls to see this show for reasons previously mentioned here. It was, shall we say, an experience of the grit your teeth and pretend you are having a good time variety.
It was taking place at the National Indoor Arena.

Now I freely acknowledge that I am a snob but oh dear! The state of most of the people there was a sight to behold, not previously encountered since last time I was in Skegness on August Bank Holiday Monday. All low life was there. Tattoos everywhere, ill fitting clothes, skirts up past their arses on women who really should have asked the bum question* before leaving home, foul language every time they opened their mouths and disgusting fast food in their paws. Have I sufficiently proved that I am a snob yet? But you get the (not very pretty) picture.

Worse was to follow though as we had – oh my fucking god no! – a warm up man to deal with. I will say something for the assorted chavs and chavettes – they do know how to give their all to the Birdie Song. As I was personally being very closely monitored by my daughter for the merest hint that I was not having the time of my life, I sang
"Hey, hey hey baby!
I want to know if you'll be my girl
Hey, hey hey hey hey, baby
C'mon, baby now..... " whilst waving my arms in the air and shaking my booty with the best (worst) of them.

It was all completely hideous.

And just when I thought things had got as bad as they were going to get, I found out Andi Peters was our host for the evening.

Oh alright then – some of it was quite good I suppose. Torvill and Dean did Bolero. Todd Carty still couldn’t skate but comes across as a helluva nice guy, and the main thing was that the girls I took loved every single second of it.


But back to Birmingham...that city with such a terrible image amongst those of us who don’t know the place. Here are some random facts about Birmingham.

In the Doomsday book Birmingham is mentioned as a village worth 20 shillings. The city's reputation was forged as a powerhouse of the Industrial Revolution in England, a fact which led to Birmingham being known as "the workshop of the world". Now like everywhere else in this country it is mainly reliant upon the service sector for its economic wellbeing. Crossroads was made in Birmingham. Neville Chamberlain was from Birmingham. So was Enoch Powell - and Ozzy Osbourne. Musically there seems to be some kind of a theme with the likes of Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, Napalm Death, Electric Light Orchestra and Led Zeppelin all hailing from this city. That explains the profusion of Brummie accents when Reidski went to the Download festival last summer. More to my particular liking are The Streets, Steel Pulse, UB40, The Beat, and Editors. (How can the likes of Liverpool, Manchester and Sheffield compete with a musical legacy like that eh?) The city currently has two Premiership football teams - Aston Villa and another one whose name escapes me. We must thank Birmingham inventors for numerous innovations, including custard powder.

The day we went there was spent here, wandering along the canals and stopping off for drinks and pasta en route, and it was absolutely fantastic. I was massively impressed with this vibrant and exciting area, and came away from Birmingham determined to return sometime very soon – only I do not intend to see Dancing on Ice Live again some time ever!

* Answer – yes it does.

Dot

We have a family friend called Dot who has recently been very poorly. Luckily she is now on the road to recovery but is at present unable to return to her home while she convalesces.

My mum went to see her at the weekend. As she entered the room she heard Dot flatly refusing to take the medication she was being offered. Mum asked her what the problem was. "Huh!" says Dot. "I am NOT taking any of their medicines. THEY say I have got a heart problem. Doctor P told me there is nothing whatsoever wrong with my heart. No way am I taking any of their so called heart medicine. Look what happened to Michael Jackson."

Dot is 90.

Maybe it is being so careful that has helped her live as long as she has?

Silversun Pickups - "Lazy Eye" (Single Edit Version)

Seen on Tuesday night - fantastic stuff.

The rewards of friendship

I am always on the look out for good offers.

Gyms are of course often keen to encourage their members to introduce their friends to the joys of gym membership and often offer incentives – eg if one introduces a mate to the gym and they sign up you will receive a gym bag, or some nice toiletries etc etc.

Anyway, in the past two weeks leaflets and posters have appeared in profusion at my gym – Virgin Active – that encourages us to be ‘Active Amigos’. ‘Friendship’ as they say on the front of the leaflet ‘ is so rewarding’.

So how rewarding exactly is friendship?

Well this scheme aims to get four of our friends to join Virgin Active through our recommendation.

I don’t know what the average monthly charge is for my gym, but I pay £40 and have done for years under a scheme that I signed up for ages ago that guaranteed no price increases whilst one remains a member. I assume therefore that the average charge per month is higher than £40 but let’s stick with that amount to discover how rewarding friendship actually is.

Now if I get one of my friends to sign up – and the minimum contract is for 12 months - my reward will be a water bottle. Yes! A whole water bottle all of my own! Virgin Active meanwhile would get £480. So far so rewarding.

If a second of my friends signs up my reward will be a towel. You can see that it is starting to get quite an exciting prospect now. A water bottle AND a towel! I can scarcely dream of such things. Virgin Active get £960.

Friend number three signs up (have I actually got that many friends I am just wondering?) I get a whole hour’s worth of personal training – worth £22, during which I can drink out of my water bottle, and after which I can dry myself on my towel. How rewarding is that? Virgin Active are so incredibly generous aren’t they? They get £1,440.

Anyone who has actually bothered to stick with this will be desperate to know what reward I can expect should friend number four sign up. Well I would get a whole entire month’s free membership which you may recall is for me £40. Now you are talking Mr Branson pal! Virgin Active would get £1,920. This scheme is clearly very rewarding indeed – for some company of other.

As you can imagine I was completely enthused when reading about how friendship was so incredibly rewarding and how I stood to receive a water bottle. I was therefore all set to start work on coercing four unsuspecting mates to join Virgin Active – they would not need to know there would be SO much in it for me. But hang on just one moment. What are these dreaded words I see? 'Terms and conditions apply.’

I check out the small print to read that ‘All prizes must be redeemed before 30th June 2009.’
(My highlighting - not theirs.)

So actually should (in a parallel universe where the impossible is possible) four of my friends to actually take up gym membership at my recommendation Virgin Active would get £1,920 – and I would in fact get, rather than the as advertised practically fuck all, absolutely fuck all.

A truly brilliant marketing ploy wouldn’t you say?



Post script.

Bizarrely this post has today attracted numerous visits from the same IP address. Mr Branson is it you? If it is you and you are concerned that I am pointing out just how crap this offer is, please note that I am open to bribery and can easily be persuaded to say how great Virgin Active offers are for a sum of money to be negotiated. E-mail me!

A is for

Achurch.



I am a neglectful blogger these days but I just had an idea for when I am stuck for something to write about. An A-Z of places I have been. The idea may well have been prompted by my walk last weekend that took me to Achurch. That is not (for a change) a typo. The photo is of me at a church in
Achurch. A tiny Northamptonshire village that until my walk took me there (twice) I didn't know existed. The reason it took me there twice was because instead of consulting an Ordnance Survey map, I pulled a pub walk directions off the internet and followed it blindly, but it was still a little bizarre when some three quarters of an hour after leaving Achurch, I found I was back in Achurch and still with four miles of the walk to go (in the rain)(without a jacket)(I don't like to complain).

So what can I tell you about Achurch? The church in Achurch has a well preserved tomb of a crusader from 1200 and something, which is quite impressive, and the guy who designed the First World War recruiting poster 'Your Country Needs You' was from there. I wonder how many men died because they responded to that?* Humm, that's about all I can tell you apart from the countryside around it is lovely.



So let's hope that if this series ever gets as far as B, that place will have had a bit more going on than a sleepy hamlet in the heart of the English countryside has had in the past 800 years.

* Reidski takes the piss out of me as whenever we visit some kind of amazing structure I always find myself asking him how many people he thinks may have died in the construction of the palace/cathedral/bridge - delete as appropriate. I am a terminally boring person to go anywhere with!