Memorable events from 2011

So, this is a couple of days late but I only really thought about doing this on New Year's Eve during a Quiz based on memorable events from the past year (which none of us were particularly good at actually).
Anyway, in loose chronological order here are some of the more memorable events in my life from the past 12 months.

1. We bought a Wii Fit just after Christmas 2010 and I got a bit addicted and managed to get quite fit and supple, but got out of the habit half way through the year and have only recently got back into it. I definitely need to use it more this next year!!

 

(http://blogs.examiner.co.uk/musicismyradar/2011/02/the-hold-steady---the-ritz-man.html)

2. Tom and I went to see The Hold Steady in concert in Manchester the day before Valentine's Day. It was one of the most fun gigs I've been to in a very long time.

3. We also saw Funeral For a Friend in Aberystwyth on the first night of their tour in March. Not many people will know this, but this particular band holds a special place in my heart as it was when Tom and I first went to see them together as friends a few years ago (also in Aberystwyth as it happens) that I started to realise that maybe we really were supposed to be more than just friends... 

3. Speaking of friends, my friend Victoria and her husband James had their first child, a gorgeous little girl Ffion Emma, in March!

4. Still on the theme of relationships, Tom and I decided to move into our own place and after a long search we eventually moved into our awesome house in May - happy days! Thanks so much to all our friends and family who lent us furniture and helped carry heavy and/or bulky things in and out of vans and up twisty stairs all day!

http://www.bigbrotherwatch.org.uk

5. It was the year of weddings and engagements as one of my oldest friends from primary school got married in July, followed by the wedding of one of my close friends from work in August, and then finally an old friend from the Netherlands got married at the end of August. Our friends Jemma and Steve also got engaged as did Tom's sister and her fiance Nick!

6. (Related to no. 5) Tom got asked to be a groomsman and I got asked to be a bridesmaid for Jemma and Steve's wedding next April. I'm happy that I got to spend some quality girl time with Jemma and Maid of Honour Cassy (including watching the Wedding Singer for the first time!) and we went to The Wedding Show at the NEC and successfully found the perfect wedding dress for Jem.

7. Going back in time slightly, I took Tom to see Bon Jovi in concert in Manchester for his birthday in June. We were right in the Gold Circle which meant we had a great view of the band and Jon Bon Jovi himself walked right past us during one of the songs. It might have rained all afternoon, but it was a great concert nonetheless! Here's a link to some pics I took. (Yes, it was before Tom got his hair cut...)

8. I nourished my latent creativity by making wall hangings from my postcard collection and I also made a cool book as part of Tom's Christmas present. I'm taking him to see Alkaline Trio next May but won't get the tickets until next year but wanted to give him something related to it... The words are the lyrics for the song 'Private Eye' which I cut from paper clipppings (seemed appropriate).






  

One of my proudest achievements :)

9. It was a great year for cooking as well, although there have been a few narrowly avoided disasters including the recent 'Chocolate Pudding Incident' in which I couldn't figure out why my cake mixture tasted so awful... until I realised I'd forgotten to add the bowl of sugar that was patiently waiting on the sideboard... Doh! I've been given so many awesome recipe books this year and also discovered loads of cool and interesting recipes through Stumble Upon and Pinterest. Some of the recipes I've written up on here, but there are loads more I've tried and not had time to write up but I'll try and get round to as many as I can this next year.

10. Speaking of which, another important event was starting this blog - yippee! It's been great learning how to use all the features on here and I've really enjoyed the opportunity to get back into writing more regularly. I hope if you've read any of it that it's not been too boring...

Inside Bath Abbey clock tower

11.To counteract all the time spent indoors cooking, writing, and looking up recipes on BBC Food, we did however visit some brilliant places this year. We had a great weekend visiting my uni friends in Brighton, and spent our holiday in Bath Spa where we saw some truly amazing things like the Roman Baths and beautiful country parks, and climbed up inside the Abbey Clock Tower. We also went to my friend's wedding in Holland which was really good fun, and we explored places closer to home like Barmouth, Llandudno, Llangollen, Pontcysyllte, and Llandegla Forest for some great walks, day trips and weekends away.

12. Upon my return from Holland though I got labyrinthitis and ended up being off work for two weeks, which was the longest period of sick leave I've ever had to take in my life so it was very weird. I couldn't read or watch TV, and I struggled to cook or even get around the house and do basic tasks so it was a really frustrating time in my life, having to rely on other peple to help me with almost everything. I still every now and then feel a bit dizzy, but for the most part it's gone so I'm really pleased it's over!!

13. As I started to recover from my labyrinthitis I got seriously addicted to the TV series Lost, having previously only ever watched a spoof version of it on Youtube by Tom's sister and her friends (see youtube video below). Despite the spoilers, I did still sob my heart out everytime someone died, especially like during the finale.

14. Back in the real world, sadly a few people passed away including my nieces' grandmother Sandy, and a friend of my mother's also lost her husband. My lovely cousin Jenny was also diagnosed with breast cancer this summer. However, as I mentioned in a previous post she seems to be going strong and has recently finished her chemotherapy, so we're all hoping the next few stages of her recovery go smoothly and are sending our love and messages to her via Caring Bridge.

www.cricbeat.com

15. We were also saddened by the tragic death of MotoGP rider Marco Simoncelli this year. I've really enjoyed watching the racing on iPlayer with Tom this year so it was a real shock to hear about Marco's awful crash. He was very young and had already achieved so much in such a short amount of time. I'm reminded of a phrase often used to describe the short-lived career of 19th Century French poet Artur Rimbaud, "meteoric".




16. Speaking of which, we also had a brilliant couple of nights star-gazing and watching the meteor showers with some friends and I also went on a night ride up to the Horseshoe Pass with Tom to see if we could see any more. That is one of the best things about living in less built-up areas, the stars are so much more visible than in urban places.

17. I had my uni friends over to stay and we went on our first ever Valley Run (a pub crawl on minibuses around village pubs in the local area). It was just fantastic seeing my friends again, and it was well timed as I'd been going through a tough time at work so it was something fun to look forward to. It unfortunately coincided with our shower choosing to leak everywhere and drip water through the living room ceiling - aghh!

18. My younger brother Patrick became Programme Director for and helped launch a Not-For-Profit enterprise Spectrum Designs Foundation which provides employment opportunities for individuals with developmental disabilities such as Autism. I even appeared in the September issue of their Newsletter in one of their shirts. Here's a promotional video below to explain more about what they do and why!

19. My friend Tammy kindly lent Tom and me a tree and decorations for our first Christmas in our house!

20. I met up with old buddies from France for a weekend in Manchester before Christmas for a rowdy "Mulled Wine and Mariah Carey" party (Mariah wasn't actually there in person, but there was lots of singing along and dancing to classic Christmas tunes).

21. In some very, very exciting news, I also accepted a job offer for a position in a publishing company not far from where we live. People who know me will know how much I LOVE books, so this is a very exciting move for me, and I can't wait to start this new challenge at the end of the month. :D

22. Finally I actually got to see all my family on Christmas Day. Last year my brother Patrick couldn't make it back from the States because of the bad weather so it was amazing to have all the family together in one place over the Christmas period.

So there you have it. Some good bits, some not so good bits, but overall, I think I'm starting to move in the right direction. That's one of the things that's good about keeping a diary or writing a blog, is that you can look back at where you were at a while ago and check where you've got to. That's not to say I'm one for resolutions or that I've got a big strategic plan for myself, but I've certainly got some plans for next year and with a bit of work (and with the help of this blog to keep me on track) I hope I'll achieve them.

With that in mind I hope you've all had a wonderful Holiday and wish you all the very best for 2012!
Cheers!
x

Night Riders

Apologies for not writing anything for a while. It's been pretty stressful and exhausting being back at work these past two weeks, and have not really had the energy to sit down and write (plus I was wary of ending up writing about work - that is one thing I absolutely do not want to do).

I find it really hard to switch off from work in the evenings or on days off, especially if I know there's an event going on as I worry about what could go wrong, and what problems will be waiting for me on my desk when I get back. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I've had mulling over all the things I've got going on. Sometimes writing a 'to do' list helps to settle things in my head, but there are times when I do manage to completely cut off from work and just enjoy the present moment, and that is when I'm on the back of the motorbike. One of the best holidays I ever had was our two week trip around France last summer, and that was partly because I was so uncontactable (you can't exactly answer a phone when you're riding pillion), that I really felt I could just let go and enjoy being just the two of us, wherever we were.

Anyway, last night my boyfriend Tom suggested we go for a night ride up the Horseshoe Pass to the Ponderosa Cafe (a well known biker haven) to go and watch the stars. We'd thought of going a few weeks ago during the meteor showers but never got further than the Old Hill Fort in Oswestry (which was still awesome), and since it was an uncommonly warm and clear October evening it seemed like the perfect time to go. It felt so weird getting suited up in the house and starting to feel all hot and clammy - it felt like we were back in the South of France last August - but it soon cooled down once we got going.

It was still quite early in the evening when we left (maybe 9ish) so the roads weren't as empty as I would have liked. One of my favourite rides was a couple of years ago, before we got together, when we just drove around Oswestry and the surrounding areas in the middle of the night with the road to ourselves. I remember that night that we stopped and pulled over by a pit stop cafe that had long ago shut for the evening, and I asked if there was a problem (I'd not long ago had my first ever bike ride so was still quite uncertain of how things worked). Tom replied that there was nothing wrong, but every now and then he just felt like stopping and turning off the engine and sitting in the darkness a little while, just listening to the night. There's something really peaceful, but also kind of thrilling about being the only ones on the road at that time of night. I guess maybe part of the thrill comes from being on the bike itself, but whatever it is, I highly recommend it if you ever get the opportunity.

Anyway, last night there were still quite a few cars and the odd lorry on the road, but it was still really pleasant. I keep my visor up while we're in town, enjoying the feeling of the wind in my face and the warm air rippling over my legs and shoulders. When we're going slowly, I like to sit with my hands resting on my knees rather than around Tom's waist, or holding the grab rail behind me. It's strange but sitting like that, with my back straight and hands resting on my knees, it makes me feel calm and wise, like a monk of some sort, quietly contemplating my surroundings, and just being aware of my body and how it feels and moves along the road and through the air. As we move out of town and start picking up speed I reach behind with my left hand and twist my fingers underneath the grab rail. With my right hand I flip the visor down so it's open just a crack and instantly the noise of the wind changes to a louder rushing sound. I know that if I close the visor completely the quality of the sound will change again, and it will also start to steam up from my breathing, and my face will feel warm and slightly damp from the extra moisture inside the helmet. That's one of the many things I like about motorbikes, it's the small details, the sounds, sensations, and smells, the environmental things you pick up on that you don't get in a car.

We head on out of Oswestry and towards Gobowen and Weston Rhyn, past the Lion Quay's resort. I sneak a glance at it, and think about the people who might have got married there today, and think about Tom's sister and her fiance who are thinking about getting married there in a couple of years. But I feel Tom click into a lower gear and we zoom past a lorry and head on up to North Wales, past the blinking neon lights of the Shell garage and carry on along the A5 over the Ceiriog Viaduct.

A5 Ceiriog Viaduct: http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2408523

 In the day time the viaduct offers one of my favourite local views. It feels really high up and the river winds below, with sheep and other farm animals grazing on the land by the banks, surrounded on both river banks by tall trees. I can't see the river below at this time of night but I know it's there in the darkness. There have been a few bad accidents on that bridge, and I usually keep my eye out for the wind sock to see what it's doing. I sometimes have the irrational fear that whatever vehicle I'm in is suddenly going to get blown right off the bridge and fall, in slow motion, all the way to the bottom. Again there's something thrilling about that, even though it's just a bridge and the barriers are fine, and the chances of just getting blown off the edge are pretty much impossible. I guess it's my over-active mind, imagining what a fall like that would feel like.

We keep going until the roundabout with the late night McDonalds, and turn left towards Llangollen. We've crossed over the border into Wales again, and you start to really feel it as the roads get more windy, and slope up and down. There are alternately stone walls and worn white metal railing on the side of the road and as we head out towards Froncysyllte I'm aware that there are more amazing views out there, hidden from sight this time by the darkness. I try to distinguish the Aquaduct (Pontcysyllte in Welsh) over the River Dee, but it's not lit, so again, I know it's out there somewhere among the black and the valley lights on my right hand side, stretching from one side of the valley to the other, but I'm not sure whether I've passed it already or whether it still to come. I have to stop myself from craning my neck too much as the road is starting to bend quite a lot, and I know that if my weight is too much on one side of the bike that it makes it harder for Tom to keep us balanced and get us through corners. I think again that I'd like one day to walk across the Aqueduct (I'm sure my Dad has done it before), but then we pass the Aqueduct Inn and out through the street lit area and back onto the dark road. After a couple more sharp turns we pass the Vale of Llangollen Golf Club, and I know we're about 2/3rds of the way there.

http://www.oldukphotos.com/denbighshirellangollen.htm: Pontcysyllte Aqueduct

 Into Llangollen and we slow to 30, and we flip our visors up again. I think about how lovely the streets look bathed in the orange glow of street lights on this warm October night; there are people outside the pubs enjoying their Saturday night, and I think about how it might be nice to stop for a drink one night at either the Star Inn, or the Sun Inn (I find it funny that I've never noticed their names before, that one should be of the night time, and one of the day, two pubs right next door to each other). Then come the restaurants and curry houses. We come to the Samirah Tandoori on the left, and I think briefly about a uni friend called Samira, and then I notice the family stood outside. There's a woman, and a man with a young child in his arms. He's wearing long shorts and I think 'fair play to him'. He has two prosthetic legs (from mid calf I think) and the street lights make the metal gleam above his trainers. He's lifting the child up in the air above his head and he looks happy. I wonder what might have happened to him, if perhaps he was in the army, or maybe if he just had an accident, but by then we've gone passed and we turn right down towards Llangollen bridge. There are even more people down this part of town, and there's a festive feel to the night, like the Royal Wedding bank holiday, or perhaps World-Cup time of year there are so many people out and about on the streets outside the pubs.

Llangollen Bridge at nightfall: http://www.llangollenlets.co.uk/

We cross the beautiful old bridge with it's victorian style street lamps and head left out of town towards Llantysilio and the Horseshoe Pass. A few months ago we came for a walk along the Shropshire Union Canal, to the Horseshoe Falls, and up around the countryside around Llangollen, and we pass a lot of the same landmarks that we followed down by the canal back then. Railway carriages sleeping quietly on the left and beautiful old black and white timbered town houses with bay windows on the right. There's a relatively new group of modern, white homes on the right (the sign for the Marketing suite is still up, so they must not have sold all of them yet), and I notice with some disappointment that the 'Tic Tac Car' isn't there this time. When we came for that walk last time, there had been a bright lime green car which had reminded me of those green and orange tic tacs. The road gets thinner and trees line it on both sides. The giant silver harp outside the International Eisteddfod Pavilion shines almost mystically in the street lights as we amble past, making me think of Bernard Cornwell's books about King Arthur and Merlin. I spot the sign for the Motor Museum on the left and then the road curves upwards and to the right. I remember that this is way that we walked back to Llangollen to get the car at the end of our walk a few months ago. I was worried about getting a parking ticket so we'd decided to take the road even though there were no pavements so it was a bit hairy at times!

Now we're really out of Llangollen the countryside gets wilder, and the hills grow higher and steeper on our left. They're covered in bracken and gorse and other course and spiky plants. The ground starts to slope downwards on the right as we pass the campsite and Valle Crucis Abbey in Llantysilio, again somewhere in the darkness but invisible to travellers at this time of night.

Valle Crucis Abbey: http://www.aboutbritain.com/ValleCrucisAbbey.htm

I think how cool it would be to go back and wonder around there at night, but something about the place is also quite creepy, as it reminds me of the ruined abbey in the 3rd Omen film with Sam Neill. We are not far away from the Horseshoe Pass now. The buildings become less and less frequent. One, the Britannia pub, is announced by a bright white triangle of neon lights above the porch and winking Christmas lights around the sign at edge of the driveway. You see it coming from quite a distance and then suddenly it disappears behind us as we take a sharp right and climb a 20% incline where it's black again. We're climbing higher and higher now, and this is when I start to get a bit nervous and hope Tom keeps his secret about going carefully. This road scares me. The bends are really sharp and the drop off the edge is massive, even in the dark you can tell from the tiny lights at the bottom of the valley below. The white reflective posts on the right edge map out the curves of the road for us, which is in someway reassuring, but in other moments, where the reflections disappear from sight around a sharp bend, it reminds you of quite how bendy the road is.

Copyright Stepehn McKay, http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2302781

My fingers are tightly gripped around the grab rail and I'm more conscious of holding myself still with my core muscles to avoid shifting weight forwards or backwards, or from one side of the bike to another.

The Road West around the Horseshoe Pass, Copyright Tom Pennington: http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/835886

 Comparing this physical tension and concentration to my earlier peacefulness, with my zen-like calm, I'm reminded of a book review I read for "Teach us to sit still" by Tim Parks (I had to check the title today if I'm honest). In the book the author has a health problem that has been giving him some grief, and in his desperation to try anything that might bring him some relief he attempts meditation techniques at a monastery of some sort. I remember him describing how surprisingly uncomfortable and unnatural just sitting still for hours can feel, but that once you've got the hang of it it can bring huge benefits, not just physically but mentally and spiritually as well.

Now, on the bike, I think how useful it would be for me to learn to calm down and just sit still. I am a terrible fidgeter, always tapping my feet, or drumming my fingers nails on something, or picking at my split ends in my hair (I know, gross), but on the bike fidgetting is a big no-no. I try to centre myself so that I'm not actively shifting my weight as the bike leans from one side to the other, but rather that the bikes moves me, as if there's a stiff metal rod that runs vertically through me and into the bike, if that makes sense. It's actually quite hard for me to let myself be moved, and it's something that took quite a lot of practice to get used to, but I know that it makes it so much harder for Tom to handle the bike if I'm moving around unpredictably behind him.

Eventually we reach the part of the road where it flattens out on the left and we see the lights of the Ponderosa Cafe up ahead. Although it looks deserted, the lights are a bit of a disappointment as it means the stars will be less clearly visible. I dismount and Tom turns off the engine. Neither of us speaks for a while. We sit on the car park looking out over the valley, listening to the engine ticking in the quietness and just looking up at the stars. With the helmet off, I can smell the mountain air mixed with the bike. I'm not sure if it's the exhaust, the tyres, or just the general hot engine smell, but I like it. It's very quiet in the gaps between passing cars. Looking behind us it looks like there's a satellite moving above the top of the mountain, but the movement is jerky and the light gets brighter and then suddenly fades and disappears completely. We both lie back on the concrete and just sit quietly for a while. After a while (I don't know if it was half an hour, 45 minutes, or longer), we both start to feel that the lights from the cafe complex are a bit annoying, and the cars seem to be coming quite frequently. We can also hear voices from the bushes on the mountain top behind us, and the jerky light has reappeared, closer this time. I figure that what we had thought was a satellite is actually just late night walkers, and that pretty soon they'll reach us. I know it's a free country, but I'd really liked the idea of being completely alone up on the mountain top, and don't relish the idea of being joined by strangers. In the end we decide it's getting a bit cold to be sitting on the ground and decide to head home, but with the promise that we'll try Lake Vyrnwy next time as it's likely to be darker and not have as much passing traffic.

Ponderosa Cafe in daytime: http://www.northwestbikers.net/forum/index.php?/topic/115-meeting-places/

The journey home is indeed much colder and I try to keep my arms as close to my body as possible and shrink down behind Tom to get out of the way of the chilling wind. I use my teeth to pull up the neck protector over my mouth, and hunch my shoulders up to my helmet to try to keep the wind out. I feel like a turtle, and there is something in this, something in the fabric in my mouth that makes me feel like a little child, but I can't put my finger on it. I start for no reason to suck on the fabric between my teeth, and stop almost immediately as it reminds of a stable vice called wind-sucking that horses do. This thought instantly reminds me of work, and I realise I'd almost completely forgotten about work during the course of the evening.

We head down the 20% slope and towards the sharp bends of the Horseshoe Pass, this time with the red reflective posts and treacherous drop on our left side, i.e. closer to us. The rest of the journey home is uneventful and Tom does indeed take it slowly, except on one left bend it's not quite slow enough for my liking. I feel the bike lean lower and lower to the ground on the left and the wheels drift nearer and nearer to the other side of the road until we're on the white centre line. I'm thankful that there's almost no one else on the road at this time of night. I'm reminded of an evening bike ride we took in France last year in the Cevennes. The dusty, windy mountain roads were familiar to me as I'd been on holiday to that region for several years running, but France being France, they didn't have much in the way of safety barriers. This in spite of the fact that accidents weren't uncommon, and I'd actually met a man who had gone off the edge and was lucky enough to come out of it with just one eye missing. On that occasion last year, we were heading upwards and like last night we took a right bend a little too quickly and Tom had to lean the bike so far down to avoid us drifting right off the left side of the road that I felt the foot peg scrape and bounce off the ground beneath our feet. I've never forgotten that feeling, which is why roads like the Horseshoe Pass in North Wales scare me a little. You have to be a little scared I guess, so as not to lose respect for it.

When we eventually get to the outskirts of Oswestry I'm relaxed again, and I start to take in more about the feeling of being on a bike. I look down and to my left, at my knee, and the road zipping away underneath it, as if we were sitting still and someone was pulling the road like a rug out from underneath or wheels. I'd never looked at my legs in that way before, and it's kind of mesmerising, seeing the line on the edge the road drifting closer and then further away from your knee. At the last roundabout before we get to town we take the right exit and I see and feel my body being lowered towards the ground and it's an amazing feeling. After the exit the road bends immediately left, and you feel your whole body lift upwards and then down again to the left, and again I watch my left knee inching nearer to the ground.

As we get off the last country road and into the street lights I notice the shadows on our left hand side. With each approaching street lamp I see a clear, black silhouette of two heads and the handlebars of the bike appear from behind and follow us on the left. As we drift past the lamps, the shadow stretches forwards in front and underneath us, fading and stretching until the two heads and bike merge into one pale disappearing image, until we move into the next pool of light and a new dark shadow is born. I'm fascinated by this cycle, the birth and death of shadows, all the way back to our house, and wish there was someway I could capture this visually for other people to see. I guess it'll have to stay in my head for now.

Until next time. x

Postcards from anywhere...

Advert for Sleep (Haruki Murakami), illustrated by K. Menschik

Well I told myself I would eventually get round to putting together some displays of my postcard collection, AND I also promised I would put up some more pics so this brief post is going to do just that.

I've collected these postcards from a variety of places, but mostly during trips around Europe - France, Spain, Germany, The Netherlands, etc. Sometimes, I've bought them from tourist places, sometimes I've picked them up from exhibitions like the Tate Modern in London, or the Reina Sofia in Madrid, some I just picked up for free in bars and cafes. I like all of them for different reasons, some because they're funny or clever, some because they remind me of something or someone, some simply because of the colours - in fact some of the free ones I didn't even know what they were supposed to be until a while after picking them up. Most of the time the free ones are adverts for new music, bars, artists, or even therapists!

Postcard bought in France, either St Malo or Dinan

Some of the postcards are ones I've been sent by others. Quite a few are from my Dad (you can always rely on him to send a postcard even if he's only away for a very short space of time), but I've also got a handful from uni friends and friends I used to live with in France.

Star no. 1, on the theme of love and relationships (caption of bottom card reads 'Love Rat')

I really love the idea of using postcards as a means of decorating your house, though I have to confess I didn't come up with it myself, although this particular format is my own. Back when I was living in France, I went to dinner at a mutual friend's house, and her and her husband had kept loads of postcards and hung them from wire (as if they were on a clothes line) in their downstairs bathroom. Some people might not like the idea of having pictures of your travels on display like that, I suppose in some situations it might come across as pretentious, or showing off about how well travelled or worldly you are, but I find it motivating and thought provoking, and, at least from my perspective, aesthetically pleasing. As I mentioned in my previous post, it reminds me of fun times, but also it reminds me not to forget the bigger picture. No matter what problems I might be having at work, or at home, it reminds me that there is always something bigger going on in the world. It also reminds me not to get too comfortable and complacent - I definitely want to do more travelling, so this will be a constant reminder of what else there is to see out there.

Star no. 2, on theme of people

Clockwise from top: 'Hello' by Per Jose Karlen, 'Woman with Matches' by Francis Picabia, 'Nude Descending a Staircase, no 2' by Marcel Duchamp, 'Masque de Greta Garbo a la meche' by Pablo Gargallo, album design for 'Ein Geschenkte Tag' by Max Herre, 'L.H.O.O.Q.' by Marcel Duchamp  Centre: 'Guernica' by Pablo Picasso

Some of the more artistic ones by Duchamp (the artist, not the poncy men's fashion label), or Picasso remind me of how much the world has changed since their time, but also to appreciate the things that we now take for granted, but that were revolutionary back then, like moving pictures and modern art. One of the things I particularly like a postcards, is that it's a fun and relatively cheap way of saying hi and touching base with someone, of letting them know you're thinking of them, without picking up the phone, or sending an e-mail, or going on Facebook. They're a lot quicker than writing a whole letter, and you certainly don't have the space to update your intended receiver on your entire life, but I think it retains some of the charm of letters in a world where we're so used to instantaneous communication, and an interesting or attractive design adds to the appeal. I absolutely love receiving letters and postcards from friends and family in the post, and I want to be better at sending them too (it's so hard to fight the temptation to keep them for myself!).

I've still got loads of cards to sort through and and work out how best to display them, but I think I'm actually going to run out of spare hooks on our walls before I get through all of them. I may well have to lend them to friends and family so that they don't just sit gathering dust in a box under the bed. Anyway, I didn't want to write too much on this one (a picture's worth a thousand words don't you know?), so hope you enjoy the pictures (please excuse the camera-phone quality) and look forward to posting some more soon.

Bye for now x

A Brand New Day...

On Sunday night, we got hit by the tail end of the Hurricane Katia and although it was comparatively mild where we live in the Shropshire borderlands, it did still cause a hell of a racket.

I've mentioned before how having labyrinthitis makes you feel as if you're on a ship at sea, well on Sunday night it sounded like the whole house was a ship at sea. The gusts would start low and quiet and then whoosh over and crash around the house like waves, joined by high-pitched, shrill whistles as it rushed through gaps in wooden fences and the corrugated sheet roof of the garage next door, the clatter of bins being knocked over, and gates rattling and banging against fences. The irregular patter of rain drops swept against the sky lights by the gusts of wind was like sea spray on a boat as it pitches dangerously from side to side. It genuinely felt like the house was being battered by a really rough storm, and it took quite some time before we were able to drift off to sleep again. I think we all (I had family staying over that night) felt somewhat nervous by so much noise, even though there really wasn't much risk of damage in our area, but it just felt as if something bad might be about to happen.

The fact that Sunday was also the 10th anniversary of 9/11, made me think of poor young Dorothy Gale in 'The Wizard of Oz' (my favourite film as a child) getting caught in that twister. Dorothy's character, as played by Judy Garland, is knocked unconscious inside her house, which is raised and dropped from a great height and eventually crash lands into a whole new world of technicolor vision, and for her nothing will ever look the same again. Similarly our world was changed forever in the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and not only in the sense of that specific act of death and destruction, but as with Dorothy's experience in Oz which was often frightening and fraught with danger, the way we view the world (and each other) has changed as well. 

[Anyone interested in this might want to watch the British film Yasmin (2004) which looks at how the 9/11 attacks affect the lives of a Pakistani community living in West Yorkshire, and in particular how prejudice, intolerance, and the anti-terrorism measures may have led to increased tensions between different communities, and even pushed people towards extremism.]

Time is a funny thing. In some ways it's hard to believe that 10 full years have passed already - just where have they gone exactly? When I first found out about the twin towers plane crashes, I was on the school bus back home at the end of one of the first few days of sixth form. At around that time I met and became close friends with the man who would eventually become my boyfriend and with whom I now live. Time seems to have flown by in that sense. On the other hand the resulting war in Iraq seems to have dragged on for an eternity. Yes, in 10 years the world has most definitely changed, almost beyond all recognition. Yet despite the passage of time, for many the pain of grief, the feelings of loss of loved ones will never ease. And I don't of course just mean those who died in the attacks on New York and the Pentagon, but all those who have lost their lives as a result of that event; those fighting in the Middle East, and subsequent terrorist attacks such as those that took place in London on 7th July 2005, and in other attacks around the world.

Getty Images Photo By Getty Images/Chip Somodevilla Sun, Sep 11, 2011

For those that were present at the Memorial events in New York and who were grieving the loss of friends, family, and co-workers, it might seem, like Dorothy when she awakens in her bed in Kansas, that barely a day has passed since that fateful day, when the world was literally turned upside down.

For my mother, the attacks on September 11th 2001, signalled the start of a series of pretty awful events in her professional and personal life. For one thing she turned 50 on the 12th, the day after the attacks took place. While many people choose to celebrate their 50th with big family parties where they can joke about being over the hill with a glass of bubbly in one hand and a piece of cake in the other ("Ooh I shouldn't really, I've not got the figure of a teenager anymore... but it is my birthday after all"). In my Mum's case, my Dad had arranged a lovely and thoughtful day out at the races in a posh car, which was owned and chauffeured by a family friend, but unfortunately with the shock of the previous day's events still sinking in, Mum really didn't feel like celebrating her birthday at all, let alone swanning around like a lady of leisure at the races. After much cajoling she was persuaded to go along with the plan, but when my Dad mentioned that he would like to take shopping as well so that she could pick out something she liked, she had to put her foot down. How could she possibly want to go shopping after what had happened?

Mum quite often talks about 9/11 as a catalyst for all the big changes that took place in her and our lives after the attacks. What happened immediately before the milestone of her 50th birthday made her question a lot of what she had previously taken as given in her life. I won't name names or apportion blame as that would be unprofessional, but sadly this spelled the beginning of the end of my parent's marriage, which in turn led to the liquidation of the family training business (which my mother had built up over the last 18 years), us eventually moving house, periods of unemployment, and so on and so on. Over the past decade, Mum has had more than her fair share of crap to deal with, from Administrators (always with a capital A in my mind since we lost the business), to lawyers, planners, banks, redundancy, debts, DIY, and dating.

But now 10 years have come to pass, and Mum has now turned 60 (although you wouldn't think it if you didn't know). Like her 50th, the idea of a lavish celebration that happened to coincide with the 9/11 10 year anniversary seemed wholly inappropriate, so instead of a big party we just invited Mum and my siblings round to our place for a bottle of bubbly, followed by a yummy curry in town, and everyone stayed with us so Mum didn't have to drive. On the next day, Mum's actual birthday, I accompanied Mum and my younger sister Annie to Cardiff to drop her off at her new house before the start of the third year in Uni. For some reason on the way down Mum kept saying how much she wanted to buy a Sting album (specifically one with the Brand New Day track).

We had a tasty lunch at Gourmet Burger Kitchen (yay!) in the city centre and then Mum and I drove home with Sting playing on repeat on the car stereo.

The track, Brand New Day, was to be her new anthem, and it would be symbolic of the end of a horrible decade, and the start of something new. Far from feeling depressed about turning 60, she was feeling really positive and had loads of ideas of things she wanted to do with herself in this new period of her life. We both decided we wanted to "do more". I opened up about feeling frustrated by being stuck at home with this labyrinthitis, and decided that I wanted to get out and do more interesting things that were for me - not just watching films with friends (you can do that anywhere and anytime), but I want to see more exhibitions and plays, and go to more concerts and gigs, things that might not necessarily be 'couple things', but that I still want to do, whether it's with other friends or family, or just on my own.

I'm really enjoying writing at the moment, so I'm going to keep that up and I also want to keep learning new things. I'm thinking of signing up for a course in web design which would no doubt help me with my current job and take a bit of pressure off our in house designer, but it would also be another string to my bow in general. I'm going to keep on selling things on Amazon and Ebay to help clear out the junk, and clear my overdraft.

But that's not to say that the end of a decade is just about wiping the slate clean - a lot of good things have happened over the past 10 years as well as the bad ones. During my time off work, I've finally started sorting out all the postcards that I've collected over the years and I'm hoping to display them creatively, if not stylishly (but not holding my breath) around the house. I've already got some up in the downstairs loo!

"What's the use of Enlightenment, when you're out of loo roll?"

Looking back through these old postcards helps me remember the places I've been to and the fun times I've had with friends and family, but it also motivates me to see new places and to keep my mind active and curious.

What I have to remember is that it is up to me to make the decisions that are important in my life, and how it will turn out over the next 10 years. There's no use in regretting past decisions, or blaming circumstances for being unhappy about something in your life, if you're not willing to do anything about it. That would be a very good example of Sartre's "bad faith" or mauvaise foi.

Turn the clock to zero, honey / I'll sell the stock, we'll spend all the money / We're starting up a Brand New Day.

Turn the clock to zero, boss / The river's wide, we'll swim across / Started up a Brand New Day

Weddings...

Ah ha! So I managed to beat the Gremlins...this time...

So following on from my first successful post I was wondering what I should, or rather what I would like, to write about. There are so many things I find interesting, and so many things I could talk about I don't really know where to start. I could talk more about this balance problem I have at the moment, but when I first thought about writing a blog I was conscious that I didn't want it to turn into one of those, "follow me on my journey of discovery and feel sorry for me" things. There are so many people out there who are far, far, far worse off than me (might talk about that another time), that I thought I'd prefer to talk about something more positive first.

So I thought I'd like to talk about what happened immediately BEFORE I got this virus thing, which was a wedding my boyfriend and I went to in the Netherlands. I almost wrote Holland there, but my geography isn't good enough to know if where we were was actually the Holland part of the Netherlands and I don't want to offend anybody who could (just possibly, maybe?) be reading this.

Camping Domaine de Labeiller, St Victor de Malcap

A couple of months ago I got a text message off an old friend of mine that I have known since I was a teenager, called Marlot. Now Marlot and I met on holiday I forget how many years ago as both our families used to go to the same campsite near Saint Ambroix in the South of France at the same time every year, and we have stayed in touch on and off for the last... must be at least a decade now I think of it! Her real name is Martha Charlot, and I knew her as Charlot the first year we met, but she decided she preferred Marlot after that and that's how it's been ever since. Her Dad always used to call me his second daughter, as we actually looked quite similar as teenagers - both tall, slim, with long, straight, light brown hair, although I think she is much prettier than me, but then we do often think that about our friends. She came over to visit me in Wales and Cambridge a couple of times but I had never been over to stay with her in the Netherlands, although we had met up in Amsterdam when I was there with friends on my gap year, and then in London while she was there on an internship.

As teenagers we'd often talked about boys while we were on holiday and I think she must have met quite a few of my old boyfriends over the years, which I think is quite nice for someone you see so rarely. At the time of her text, I knew that she was living with a long term boyfriend called Michel who I'd never met but had seen photos of and seemed quite nice, although I knew nothing about him. Anyway, one day I get a text message out of the blue, announcing that she and Michel were getting married at the end of August and did I want to come!

I don't need to tell you how excited I was. Apart from the obvious appeal of a trip abroad, it was also an opportunity to catch up my "other sister" and finally see where she lived, and experience a wedding in another culture which is something I've always been curious about.

After a fair bit of time spent on www.travelsupermarket.com looking for cheap flights, and www.laterooms.com looking for cheap hotels, and a fair bit of back-wards and forwards with text and Facebook messages we eventually settled on us flying from Liverpool John Lennon to Amsterdam Schiphol on the Tuesday and staying in Amsterdam the night before the wedding, getting a train to Capella a.d. IJssel (where the wedding was taking place) on Wednesday morning and staying at Marlot and Michel's apartment that night, and then flying back from Amsterdam on the Thursday after. In hindsight I should have booked the Friday off work as well, as it was a Bank Holiday week and I could have had the whole week off and spent more time in the Netherlands (especially as my boyfriend had never been there before). But alas, it was Staff Development on both the Thursday and Friday and I didn't want to give work a reason to be mad at me by missing both days.

But eventually, the flights were booked, the accommodation (at the bizarrely named Hotel Flipper) was booked, and the cheap airport car parking was booked so all we needed to do was get a card and a present (in spite of Marlot's protestations) and get there. As we were spending a fair bit of money getting there I wasn't planning on spending much on a present, but I still wanted to get her something small, especially as we were taking hand luggage only so wouldn't have much room in our bags!

The invitation that she posted to us (complete with English translation, bless her) had included the words "Cadeau Tip" at the bottom and a picture of an envelope, so I assumed this was the name of a website where she might perhaps have had a wedding list. After a while confusing myself looking at very general dutch gift websites I decided to read up on Dutch wedding customs on Wikipedia, and discovered something that I quite like.

 The symbols on Dutch wedding or birthday invitations are actually hints at the kind of present the bride and groom (or birthday boy or girl) would like, the envelope signifying money in (surprise surprise) an envelope i.e. they're not going to open it in front of anyone else at the reception, but after the party instead. This made much more sense!

But still, I wanted to get them something a bit different, so I suggested to my boyfriend the traditional welsh "Love Spoon". If you've never heard of one it might sound a bit like a bizarre, pre-wedding snuggle between you and the bride and groom before they gain their status as a legitimate, grown up, married couple, sleeping in the same bed and everything, or some kind of weird version of the French kiss on the cheek. I know, Wales can be weird sometimes, but it's not that weird people.

A Welsh Love Spoon, is actually something handmade by the man and given to his beloved lady friend (presumably homosexuality wasn't invented in Celtic Britain), so technically it should have been Michel giving it to Marlot, but I have heard of people giving them to couples as a wedding gift and as they come in a range of sizes I was pretty sure we could get one to fit in out hand luggage. Winner.

Only problem was that we'd left it quite late, and turns out they're not that easy to come by outside of the gifts shops at welsh tourist attractions or heritage sites. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing (seems to be a re-occurring theme on this post) we eventually bought one on the morning of the day we flew out (the shop was closed on Bank Holiday), along with a welsh wedding card and tea towel from the Welsh Shop in the market where we live. The tea towel I particularly liked as it had a picture of the sun with the words "Bore Da!" ("Good Morning!" in welsh) in big letters across the front. I know it might seem like welsh overkill, but I quite like the idea of being greeted in the morning by a cheery little welsh person saying "Bore Da!" to me. Don't know why, but it just puts a smile on my face. I may well get myself one if they bring their prices down a bit - £8 is a bit much for a tea towel.



So anyway, following a bit of a stressful time at the airport involving getting lost and executing dangerous manoeuvres and 3-point turns right next to roundabouts, and a good half an hour of not talking to each other, we eventually got on our flight and landed safely in Amsterdam. We'd also realised that the hotel was close to another train station in the city and successfully found a connecting train that took us straight there, and despite a good hour wondering around not asking people for directions, we eventually found Hotel Flipper (thanks to the security guys in one of the nearby business buildings who printed us off a map and helped us orientate ourselves).

The next day was a lot easier (despite some hair issues) and we met up with Marlot's brother Frank (who again I'd never met before, but who turned out to be funny and charming, and an all round decent guy) at Capella Schollevaar train station and then went on to meet up with the parents of the bride Ron and Hilde in plenty of time for a nice catch up before heading over to the ceremony venue.

The venue looked like just an ordinary red-brick town hall type building, which looked like it had been converted into a modern art gallery inside - and by modern art I mean lots of paintings of nude women in bright colours - but upstairs they had kept the original dark wood panelling, old portaits and porcelain collections and various other artifacts pertaining to official civic matters.

The bride and groom arrived in a Porsche Sportster (apparently the groom is meant to collect his bride with a bouquet of flowers for her before taking her to the wedding, rather than meeting at the altar/registry office). Marlot looked absolutely beautiful as I'd expected (she worked a brief stint as a model) and Michel looked very smart as well. The registry room itself was actually very small but then it was a small wedding - aside from us, there were only two other people who weren't family, so I felt really flattered to have been invited. One of the other guests explained to me afterwards that the registrar had told the story of the marriage proposal in which Michel had had to do it three times as they were diving at the time and Marlot hadn't understood what he was trying to do, which I thought was a sweet story.

Then we went downstairs to the riverside (the IJssel, I think) for Marlot's homemade wedding cake and a bit of bubbly and lots of photos. Me and my boyfriend ended up by pure coincidence having the two parts of the cake that spelled out Marlot's name which was really funny (and delicious!).

After that we were given some silver balloons with wedding wishes attached to postcards and let them off in the courtyard. Unfortunately the postcards were too heavy for the balloons to float so we had to tie them all together in one big bunch and in the end they did take off, but sadly they didn't get very far before getting stuck in the branches of a tree on the riverbank.I really liked the idea though so I may well suggest it to a friend who I'm going to be bridesmaid for next year.

After the ceremony we were driven by Marlot's parents to the reception which was being held at a "luxurious beach resort" near the Hague, Kijkduin, which according to Marlot's brother means "watch the dunes". Not sure if he was telling the truth but I liked the sound of it anyway. At that point the clouds had disappeared and it ended up being an absolutely beautiful, bright, sunny afternoon on the beach. The reception venue, a cool wooden beach club was stunning.

Lots of natural tones, to match the natural environment I suppose, with an added element of glamour and luxury, with gilded chandeliers and chairs. If I had to pick one element of the club as my favourite (aside from the sea view) it would have to their version of those beaded door curtains you sometimes see in old seventies shows, or slightly old fashioned houses, but they were made out of round discs of shell and they were hung in the windows.

These gave the room a beautiful shady kind of look in the afternoon light, but also reflected the light off the surface of the discs to add a pinky-golden effect to the room, which was emphasised at night when the red of the disco lights came on.

The wedding meal was just amazing too. Initially we couldn't understand much of the menus as they were in dutch, but everyone around us helped translate and eventually we were able to make our choices. For starters my boyfriend had the carpaccio of beef, and I had tuna spring rolls with wasabi mayonnaise and a dipping sauce. Both dishes were beautifully presented, but the tuna spring rolls were to die for. The spring roll was crisp and not at all soggy as they sometimes are, and the tuna and sauce filling was warm and tender (obviously not canned tuna by the way), and went really well with the dipping sauce and wasabi mayonnaise, even though I'm not really a fan of wasabi or horseradish at all. Sometimes I think it might help to not be able to fully understand a menu, as you can be put off by some aspects of it. In this situation we had a choice of two alternatives for each course, and with such a small group (we were all on one large table) the last thing you want to do is appear indecisive, or even worse picky, so the only thing you can do is to pick between beef and fish and see what turns up in front of you! It's actually rather liberating to eat like that - so I may well try this approach again next time we end up eating out.

For the main course we both had the entrecote (steak) on a bed of vegetables with some kind of slightly spicy jus, and a cup of the tastiest chips and mayonnaise I think I've ever had. Apparently they were grandma's secret recipe fries according to one guest's translation. If so I would have loved to have got my hands on that recipe! And for dessert there was a trio of puddings - there was definitely a chocolate mousse, and I think a creme brulee, but I can't remember what the last one was, I think because I might have been full and asked my boyfriend to finish it for me. All in all an absolutely delicious meal (I'm salivating just remembering it now!), and the only thing that was a shame was that Marlot started feeling nauseous half way through and couldn't eat her dessert (apparently unheard of for her!) but thankfully she got better as the day went on and she was soon boogying the night away!

The club also had a large outdoor decked area with smooth white wooden booths, square shaped seats and stools with cushions and sofas in soft cream, stone, beige, and sandy brown tones. Looking back at photos, it kind of reminded me of a Japanese zen garden.

My boyfriend and I spent a fair bit of time after the meal just sat outside with a glass of wine or beer (the bride and groom had paid for a free bar!), chilling in the sunshine and enjoying the view. Not because we were being anti-social you have to understand, but because I think it was a bit of an effort for everybody to try to keep speaking in English in order to include us in the conversations and Marlot and Michel had to greet lots of evening guests, plus it just seemed that kind of chilled out wedding where people could do what they wanted and just enjoy being there.

I have to admit, that was one of the unexpected delights of the trip - taking off my heels and walking bare foot in the warm sand on literally the last day of summer. At one point as the sun was just about touching the sea in front of us (at least from my perspective), when the sky and clouds are turning that chalky grey-blue which fades into the hot, almost blinding white of the setting sun, we noticed a horse and rider making their way from (our) right to left along the waters edge. In one of the photos I took, it looks as if they are literally riding into the setting sun.
 

 At almost exactly the same time though, a large group of joggers turned up on the horizon and made us feel like a pair of proper lazybones, although I think after all the travelling we'd done (according to Google maps, about 550miles including flights and trains) we were entitled to enjoy sitting still and enjoying the view for a bit.
 

The beach club at night