wendy house

List-i-ness abounds.

Highlights of 09:

• wendy house garden pruned, blooming and growing
• Thomas joining planet wendy
• friends and neighbours (weddings, games nights, enouragement and support)
• visiting Cairo, a Sheepwash thatched cottage, Cornwall,  Canterbury, Hampton Court, Avebury, Chepstow castle and Penshurst place
• enjoying wonderful live performances by David Byrne, John Hegley and local bands at Reading Arts Centre tribute nights
• reading some outstanding books
• committing at least 6hrs per week voluntary contributions to a health related non-profit organisation, and enjopying it!

Lowlights of 09:

• Just a bit Brrrrrr in the house on cold days
• Some of my guests have to sit on stools at parties…
• Someone broke into the Wendy House!
• Matrix starting to get extreme old-cat wobbliness
• Sampo’s new nickname is ‘the pumpkin’
• Never got around to blogging on the books I’d read

New year resolutions for 2010:

• replace the wendy house front room gas fire with a wood (pellet) burning stove that will reduce my carbon footprint and increase the wendy house warmth and energy efficiency
• buy a Lloyd Loom sofa
• arrange a diet for Sampo
• do more health related non-profit work

These are possibilities rather than commitments…

• replace wendy house original 1840’s slate roof with felt-lined, insulated slate roof
• tile the kitchen and refit the kitchen worksurfaces
• design a garden mosaic based on the tree of life
• enroll as a student on a counselling course

Christmas bought a Magnolia Stellata.  It is 1ft tall.  If left unpruned it will grow 5ft in 10 years and mature to a hieght of about 10ft

It is a SHRUB*!

(*or a tree)

The Wendy House garden has attracted many shrubs since last autumn when the low maintenance patio was broken into by a range of muddy borders. 

The Wendy House garden has become one large SHRUBBERY.  This gardening direction will please the knights

King Arthur meets the knights who say Ni

Bernard Hieatt  founded the Reading motorcycle club and was a Brooklands Motorcycle champion and Aviator who died age 21 in 1930.  This memorial  to Bernard and his brother Stanley is in the Cemetry junction graveyard

At 12 yrs I considered having a crush on Greg Lake because of his voice, song writing skills and wonderfully smooth unblemished skin.  Sometimes he even looked 12 years old….  

Greg Lake sang I believe in father christmas
(I suspect he didn’t actually believe)

I dreampt a poem, it didn’t rhyme or have rythm, it wasnt a love poem, a funny poem or an action adventure poem.  It was a short story:

A person experiencing trouble writing poetry phoned the poetry support line.  

we offer a non judgemental listening service for poets suffering from extreme distress  Through tears the poet described his pain,  all the rhymes had been used before by other, better, poets.  People that heard his poetry, smirked or even laughed at his serious poems, looked baffled by his funny poems and fell asleep during his epic adventure poems.  For months now he had been unable to show anyone his poems.  Nothing worked, he had failed as a poet.  He’d even tried Haiku. There was no point, he was going to give up. 

We are here to listen.  After a short silence the poet read the last poem he had written then described all it’s shortcomings while he shed a few tears, then thanked the listener for not criticing his poem and for not pretending that the poem was better than it actually was.  He felt better now, thankyou, goodnight.

The luxury 5 star Forbury Hotel in downtown Reading went into administration this March.  Unlike many other businesses,  it survived by new ownership.  The new owners sent this portrait promoting seasonal greatings and special offers. 

Maybe one day we’ll meet in, or on the steps of, the Forbury. 

God Jul

At the Elephant Hotel, Pangbourne, the guests stranded by the suddent, unexpected, snowfall share stories of how they came to be at this hotel

Formerly Handsome Other Guest (FHOG): (slurred) I wanted to bring the truck out tonight,  but my wife wanted to come in the Merc

wendy: (snigger)

FHOG: So we came in the Merc because I always have to do what she says (slurred with a venemous undertone)

FHOG: but she’s admitted she was wrong this time, for the first time in 10 years marriage she’s admitted she was wrong (triumphant venemous overtones with a hint of over-exaggeration.  Yuck)

wendy: I drove my little Honda civic automatic up the Cascade moutains in Western Washington to a ski resort during a snow storm.  But then, my alternative was a bicycle not a truck

FHOG: this is my mother….

Reminder to self – a black polo-neck jumper, stylish set of spectacles and slim build do not predict good-heartedness.  Sometimes I’m such a slow learner.

3pm. Somewhere near Didcot. 21st December

How sensible am I,  starting my journey back to Reading?
Unbeknownst to me, Reading had already come to a standstill
The Reading Chronical had already published the standstill*

6pm. Pangbourne. 21st December

This is where I encountered the full car neige,  the tail end of the traffic trying to get into Reading.  The traffic standing still,  sliding sideways, not yet abandoned.  Local radio traffic news talked 50 yards taking 2 hours to cover.  Urrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhhh……

Across the next hour I called and consulted with multiple friends. The phone network was often too busy to connect my calls.  Despite the presense of many car drivers I felt very alone.  My calm sensible friends and I agreed that I needed to get off the road quickly and get shelter for the night. 

wendy: do you have any spare rooms for the night?

receptionist: stranded?

wendy: yes, well, um, yes

receptionist: we have one room left,  would you like a toothbrush with that?

wendy: OH! (signifying relief at getting a room and supportive receptionist) Yes please, thank you, I was turned away from the hotel down the road, a toothbrush!  how thoughtful

Handsome Other Guest (HOG): we’re stranded too,  I’ve only got a hammer and some ski poles in the boot of my car,  maybe we can do a deal over the toothbrush?

wendy: I’ve got a blanket in my car, we could build something like a tent with the poles and hammer.  Not sure where the toothbrush comes in

HOG: (Huge smile then turns to receptionist) table for 6 please

receptionist: we’re waiting for the chef to get in before we finalise the menu,  we’ll try and feed everyone

HOG: Table for 6?  Can you put me on the waiting list

Clearly the snow car chaos called for some serious parking-up and a pint of Butcombe.  My party for one joined a few other party’s for one and we all shared stories of family, cars, hills, walking, the IT industry and other topical faerie tales. 

* the exceptional Number 17 bus was still on the move, albeit erratically.

3pm. Somewhere near Didcot. 21st December

work colleague:  leaving already?

wendy:  it’s started snowing

work colleague: I didn’t think you were the nervous type, to leave so early.

Wendy: I’m not nervous,  I’m sensible.  Call me sensible wendy.  I’ll call you when I get home safely.

Ha hahahahahaaaaaaa  how sensible am I?

Poets for Oxfam

John Hegley delivering St. Georges day

Once again Reading’s December Poet’s cafe offered the treat of the engaging Mr. Hegley. 

Mr. Hegley manages varied and entertaining audience participation during his perfomance. 

For one poem he found a member of the audience that was prepared to nominate another member of the audience to translate a poem from French.   John would read each line and the audience member translated.  For each line John would comment on the quality of the translation.   Some of the French phrasing lent itself you English people making  translational errors.  The mistakes lead to some smile and laughter inducing imagery.  

I giggled myself off the chair on several occassions, 

Another form of participation involved the audience being given a line to sing on cue from John.  For example,  when he said ‘blah’ we had to say ‘mange’.  I do like being able to take part.

During the evening’s events I learned many things including

• there are many, published, poets in Reading that regularly attended the poets cafe
• John’s head moves with agility through all sorts of angles, often quite dramatic.
• AFH’s fingers are prone to splaying and twirling

I wonder what bodily movement I should develop to enhance my (to-be-developed) poem delivery talents?

of the office Christmas party

just be myself?

Even here, under a psuedonym where I lace fantasy with fact I still believe that I am myself and can never be anything but myself.  How can I be other than myself that I could put effort into just being myself.

Sometimes, even with spectacles, I don’t see

Angel is a young (late 20’s) local boy who reminds me of the ‘Charles’ character in the film ‘4 weddings and a funeral‘. 

Angel:  Yes….Yes…my home was broken into 4 years ago….they took everything….everything small….small enough to carry……mobile phones…..DVD player……they didn’t take my Cello….it is portable,  in a case with a handle, you can carry it….they didn’t take it.

Wendy:  Oh (signifiying acknowledgement of the value of a person’s Cello)

Angel: Yes.  Good thing really

Wendy: Yes……..    I’ve got a friend whose sister is called Hilary, like Jacqueline du Pré

Angel:  Yes…….     ………Yes……..  ……..must go……     got a train to catch.

In my dream I was still living with the *anker that I actually left in 2000 after years of building up the pluck to walk out.  Tight black leather jeans, tears bullying,  and that was just his his contribution to the dream, mine was even more icky.  I fell over several times at a cricket match during the game.  Most embaressing. 

Godley and Creme sang Under your thumb

you’re the only girl for me

We laughed together at his assertion.  It was one of the most honest expressions of closeness I’d heard then or since. 

After two weeks of dating that involved lots of

• laughter,
• sleeplessness,
• loud singing after dark,
• passionate debating of the relative efficacies of pychological theories,
• burning of incence, nicotene and canabis

He dumped me. 

Easing the suprise with the phrase ‘you’re the only girl for me’ and explaining that he preferred boys.  With hindsight, this explained the dearth in exchanges of bodily fluids. 

20 years later. He’s still passionate, humourful, debating, smoking, prefering boys and I’m still the only girl for him.  Only now there is even less excahniging of bodily fluids because the boy’s grown into a christian

priest

When a large glass of warm red wine laced with honey steams in my hand as I sit infront of a flickering open fire listening to the gentle dreaming of my kitties

When I can pay the heating bills and buy food -

Winter is wonderful

As part of ‘Operation Fends’ Thames Valley Police have given me a flourescent marker pen so that I can mark student property.  The big challenge for me is finding some student property.  They’ve given me three telephone numbers to call where I can contact the ‘University Neighbourhood team’ which is jolly nice and neighbourly….   …I wonder if they’ve mistaken me for a teacher,  to do some student marking…

please consider being extremely smooth when delivering your comments by removing sand from all available crevices

Thankyou

.Listen to the city at night while I watch this sail boat, felucca, cross the Nile after sunset. 

Later that evening I experienced the rare treat of watching a whirling dervish.  The whirling Dervish are traditionally Sufi people and the dance takes them to another plain of consciousness.  Kiddies often discover whirling without any input from religious organisation.  Whirling is a natural way of connecting with the earth,  in my case normally by falling over.  I loved their outfits, the music, the balance, skill and peace.

The sounds of Egypt were so much more beautiful than the sounds of western cities.

Friend in Cairo:  we’re meeting a man on the street corner to pick up some bacon

We loitered on a street corner.  An old mecedes pulled up,  a Egyptain looking man wearing very dark sunglasses,  smoking a cigarette, got out of the car holding an unmarked white bag.  He looked at us, at my blonde friend and called her name.  She walked over.

As a muslim country, rearing pigs, slaughtering them and distributing thier meat is not a high demand business.  Listening to my friend and the man talk I heard the fear of the non-muslim.

Friend in Cairo: the children at my school think that you catch swine-flu from pigs,  they don’t realise that you catch it from people

The Christians keep pigs,  eat pigs.  Pig farming in Egypt has stopped.  My friend’s bacon supplier talked about how his pig farms used to be hidden in the heart of christian areas,  or ex-pat communities (Americans) where the locals don’t worry about them.  But now, since swine flu,  it’s not safe, people break into the farms and kill the pigs.  Now he imports his bacon from other countries.  

The man offered us a lift to our next stop, the Cairo antiquities Museum.  As he drove he told us his story.  He was a native born Egyptian.  He left Egypt at 19 to live in the US.  There for 20 years.  His Egyptain wife missed home so they moved back in 2008.  He misses America.  He misses the way people drive. Business is getting tougher.  He talked to my friend about how she managed to find found him.  They shared names and places, they were friends of friends in the community of non-muslims.

Picking up the Bacon was so much more symbolic than simply putting food on the table.

The supermarkets are stocking up with spirits for the drinking-even-more-than-normal usual season.  Buy one get one free.  When-ever I see a whiskey bottle I think of Phil Lynott,  his long legs and unfeasably tight jeans (before the invention of Lycra or Spandex).  Phil’s alcohol and drug problems have somehow become aligned in my consciousness with the local seasonal overdrinking.

Thin Lizzy sang Whiskey in the jar

The word ‘Coptic’ appears to refer to an Egyptian language spoken in Pharonic times and currently written with the Greek alphabet. 

The language is now used in the Coptic church,  a christian church with it’s own Pope (not the Catholic one).  The apostle Mark reputedly bought christianity to Egypt in the first century AD when Egypt was governed by Rome, Emperor Nero.  

The Copts seceded from the other Christian churches in the 5th century because they rejected the decision of the Council of Chalcedon (451) that Christ had a dual nature, both human and divine, believing instead that he had a single, divine nature. 

Christianity is now the largest minority Religion in Egypt.  About 95% of Egyptians are Muslim.  The christains have a difficult relationship with the state, government and some Muslims. 

The external architecture of the christain churches was such that I found them difficult to spot.  The give-away sign was a cross,  normally on a dome.

I visited the 7th century St. Mary’s hanging church in Coptic Ciaro.  Called the ‘hanging’ church because it is built overhanging the Roman gatehouse of old Cairo.  This church was increadibly beautiful.  Painted walls with motif’s that often looked celtic, arabic writing, gold-leaf. 

Wall panels were delicately carved wood inlaid with ivory in regular geometric designs.  Often straight lines constructed to enable you to see circles and curves.  The colours created a warm celebratory atmosphere,  very different from the white-washed walls of many Church of England churches.  This celebration in art appeals to me. 

I was suprised to find the paintings of people (Mary, Jesus, Saints) depicted very pale-skinned people that looked like North Europeans,  an over-emphasis on pale skins given the likely colouring of the people portrayed.  They were at least portrayed with brown-eyes and dark hair.

Warning:  bad taste food post,  do not read on if you have a weak stomach.

Alone in a restaruant at lunch time in the daylight.  Local people, mostly Muslims, were fasting for Eid.  The sea food in this Alexandria restaurant tasted fabulous. 

I wisely didn’t eat the shrimps.

The food poisoning was loitering somewhere-else,  probably the salad.  Such a tasty salad.  I had to cancel my camping trip in the desert because I needed to stay close to something that could deal with high speed bodily emissions.  Sigh.

falls mainly when Wendy has arrived on Holiday (not on a plain in Spain).

In Egypt it only rains for a few minutes every year.  I managed to make a trip especially to the rain clouds to witness the annual event, live, as it happens, in Alexandria.  Can you see the rain cloud sneaking up behind the Alexandria citadel? 

Children ran around the street with cloths ready to wipe the local cars clean.  There was general excitement.  Clearly this was a special social occassion.  Warm rain in Alexandria.  A wonderful memory.

Here come the Rozzers

Wandering the streets of Cairo was quite tricky.  Mainly because it was tricky to avoid the Tourist police on most street corners.  They hide in their little houses.  Luckily graffitti artists often leave warnings for the tourists.  This one helped me disguise myself as a local before I was Policed.

Above Cairo, within the Saladin citadel, sits the Ottoman style Muhammad ‘Ali Mosque (1848).  An ornate structure that provides water for washing before prayer sits in the centre of an quadrangle.  The huge prayer room is lit by hundreds of low-energy light bulbs in glass jars that may once have held candles.  Tourists glide around using flash photography with blue plastic boots covering their shoes.  I followed my muslim guide’s example and removed my shoes.  

Outside the mosque is a panorama across the city.  If you listen carefully you can hear the peep-peep-peeping of the traffic below….

Egyptian road traffic (car, people, horses, cows, goats, carts) work out what to do based on local circumstances rather than any obvious rules.  A free market for its users, a self-regulating system.

Pedestrians. Cairo traffic and roads were a persistent source of fascination. Pedestrians loiter in groups chatting along the roadside, waiting for minibuses and taxes. The spill out onto dual carriageways, they weave between the traffic as the cross roads.

Passengers. Health and safety culture here in Egypt is great fun for people who enjoy not having to follow over-documented common sense for those without it.  The odd free-standing cow in the back of a truck was a common site

Prangs. I was only involved in one car accident during my stay. Judging by the dents and general ‘finnish’ of the cars ‘minor’ accidents are fairly common and not worthy of repair. After our accident the drivers stopped, got out, and argued passionately with arms waving for about 2 minutes then drove away, calm. 

Peeps. the car horn mainly says ‘don’t move any closer that’s where I am (going)‘.  One of my taxi drivers found this particularly useful when he decided to drive the wrong way down what looked like a one way street.  The sound of car horns is a constant background noise to the city. 

Sometimes the sound morphs to music before sliding back to

cacophony