wendy house

During Thomas’ annual service the battery was disconnected forcing his onboard computer to reboot. After reboot the Diesel Particle Filter malfunction warning still showed.

The mechanic said the filter looked ok. The nice chap at the Mini Dealership explained that the software might be malfunctioning and would cost me £90 to upgrade.

£90 for a software update!

What?! Software malfunctioning? Software not doing what it was designed to do? That sounds like a programming bug to me, a design fault. Software doesn’t suffer from ‘wear and tear’ like mechanical components. It sounds like Mini manufacturers, BMW, are passing on the cost of fixing their poor original workmanship to their customers! Atrocious. Most software providers release free fixes for software bugs. Hmmmmm…..

An internet search suggested that driving above 40 mph consistently for 10 minutes on a regular basis should burn-off the diesel particles and remove any mechanical problem – if one actually exists. There were lots of discussion forums talking about the warning light showing when there was no malfuntion on BMW cars. Consistent with an actual software design fault.

I changed my driving pattern to include regular periods of driving over 40mph for 10 minutes. Bye Bye to beautiful back-road Oxfordshire. The warning sign still showed. Sigh.

Time to re-visit those lovely chaps at MiniCooper Reading…

Around 400 vineyards produce wine in England

Driving the back roads from Dungeness to Reading I stumbled across the Carr-Taylor vinyard and spent a good morning in the sunshine with the staff and chipper terriers. We wandered around the Vinyard, sat and tasted wines at long tables in the wineshop, talked about the history and workings of their business. They made me feel like a special guest more than a tourist and shopper. They mainly sell wine through local stores because they can’t produce sufficient quantities to supply supermarket chains.

English vineyards produce high quality white wines, meads and champagnes.

It was good fun choosing different wines to bring home as gifts for different people,  Prune wine for my brother’s birthday, Elderberry wine for mother’s day, Ginger wine for cheese with friends…

This spirng I’ll be visiting the vineyard near Reading town, it has a beautiful chataeu – Stanlake Park

Wendy: I’d like a Finnish Flag decal for the roof of my Mini

Mini Salesboy: Sure, a checkered flag

Wendy: No, the country Finland, the country’s flag, a blue cross on a white background

We laughed and he gave me the name and phone number of the company the local Mini outlet uses for all their custom work. The staff at the local Mini outlet in Reading town always manage to make me feel good, even on the rare occassions they actually take some of my cash

I found it difficult to vote for any book that I’d read. This took Wuthering Heights and Gormenghast out of the running.  It left me feeling guilty of unfairly overlooking excellent classics in favour of unknown novelty

Scepticism stopped me seeing virtues in books by authors whose other work I’d not enjoyed. This meant Bill Bryson’s ‘A walk in the woods‘ was starting with a handicap that Sarah’s description failed to overcome. This left me feeling guilty of expecting the authors style to not evolve in inspirational ways

In one case I’d read excellent books by this author, but not this book. This gave The fourth bear by Jasper Fforde an immediate advantage. This also left me feeling guilty of expecting continued excellence from Mr Fforde

Tina told a really engaging story about her book. She described her experience of reading it and the tequniques the author used that engaged her. It was intriguing and inspiring. Because Tina did such a good job of selling a book by an author I didn’t know, this book got my vote – Eucalyptus by Murray Bail

The book that most people voted for was:

The fourth bear by Jasper Fforde

It’s set in Reading town! It’s a follow-on from the egg-cellent ‘The Big Over Easy“.   I’ll be reading it while taking counselling to overcome my growing guilt complex

The evening started with a £3 fee, a sticky name-tag, an empty-crib-sheet for notes, two opposing rows of 10 chairs, and a glass of wine. The organiser, Laura, recognised me by my book – Mervyn Peake’s ‘Letters from a lost uncle‘

Soon the evening was buzzing with quick animated talk as we used our 2 minute timed slots to promote our favourite book to each other. 20 people, each with 2 minutes to entice another person to read their favourite book. At the end of the 40 minutes we all voted for the book we liked-best.

A fascinating cross section of books, people and Library staff. All personable, quirky and good natured. And me. Organising this diverse collection of literary enthusiasts is a challenge. The Reading Central library team failed with flare and  improvised with charming grace.

For people that want a novel introduction to a range of books, to meet local people, and have a good swig of wine thrown in, this is an excellent event.

4 smiles: Ratings explained

Two minute book promotion techniques varied from reading 4 pages of bulleted notes on a book I’d been given as an 18th birthday present, read, and loved (Lynne’s Gormenghast trilogy) to Marie Claire’s brief, almost self-apologetic, statement ‘Its like a soap opera, its about people‘ (Men from the boys by Tony Parsons).

Adam produced a polished, yet souless, advocation of Wuthering Heights. If I hadn’t already read the book his persepctive ofnHeathcliffe as misunderstood by the general reading public would have put me off reading it. Adam had no sense of tailoring his delivery to the audience, to me. His delivery felt cold, dispassionate.

Arathy bought the book that had changed her life ‘The science of self realisation‘ by his divine grace Srila Prabhupada. Ernestly she showed me chapter headings and managed to talk in a way that I found difficult to follow. I tried asking her questions about how it had changed her life but she didn’t manage to give me an insight into her revelations, her life before and her life after the change. I was pleased for her discovery but not persuaded that this book would engage me.

During a mid-session break I uncovered snippits of these people’s lives, an emigrant from Australia, an unemployed teenager from Henley-on-Thames, and a mother who’s children had recently left home learning German to fill the gap. No-one asked about me. Even in the midst of lively conversations my ability to feel invisible seeps in.

It’s not dating, I’m sorry

Laura seemed concerned that I might have misunderstood the Central Library’s Read Dating event

That’s ok, I like how inclusive it is – you don’t have to be single to take part, anyone who has a book they love can join in, that’s great!

Unfortunately they hadn’t received my online sign-up and now the popular event was fully booked. I’d been excluded. Laura was very apologetic.

Can you put me on a waiting list incase someone drops out?

Laura explained that people just fail to turn up on the night, they never let her know first. Sadly, I thanked Laura for taking the time to be so helpful then checked that she had my phone number just incase. Disappointed at missing what sounded like a good evening out:

Read dating, like speed dating but with literary attitude!  Reading Library presents a fun and friendly evening where you can share you reading passions with like-minded people.
Come ready to enthuse about your favourite read 1:1. You will have just a couple of minutes to woo readers to your book. Prize for the reader whose book scores the most “dates”.

Later that evening Laura called

Cinderalla you shall go to the ball (Library)!

Actually she said

I’ve phoned round everyone that signed up and found a person that can’t come, so there is a place for you. Can I take your library card number?

Wonderful personal service! Laura asked if I had any idea what book I would be bringing. With no hesitation I blurted out

Mervyn Peake‘s – letters from a lost uncle

Reading Library staff’s humanity  humility and imagination – you can get some without a prescription, it’s FREE!

A schoolboy sidesteps into a shop entranceway so that my path isn’t interrupted as I bruskly walk along King’s street towards the Reading train station. I had planned to step sideways, to let him amble on without interruption. His proactive gesture of consideration was a very warm untouch in this cold morning.

I smiled down towards my elbow, at his small uniformed frame, saying thankyou in the cheeriest voice I could muster. He didn’t look up to acknowledge my pleased surprise and gratitude. As if adults are obstacles to be manoeuvred-around, not heard.

This seemingly natural, unselfconscious, movement made my day. A million other small good things happened that day, but his slight side-step is a lasting highlight.

A persistent challenge for people that use search engines to look for things in Reading (Berks, UK) is that the search engines don’t even try to differentiate between Reading the place and reading the activity. Consequently, any search results contain lots of obviously irrelevant results that are about reading (rhymes with feeding). The human searcher has to skim read all of the contents to mentally filter-out the irrelevant results.

To help reduce the irrelevant reading (rhymes with needing) search results I normally include the local county, Berkshire (rhymes with Bark sure), in the search terms. This helps a bit, but not enough.  Maybe Reading tourist encouragers,  could lobby the search engine providers to introduce novel, useful, search refinements, like

• Include word case in the search parameters and assume words starting with capitols indicate proper nouns in both web pages and search terms. Unfortunately, my random use of capitolisation means this may not work for me.
• a ‘Rhymes with’ feature where likely options are provided for selection. The options could include words to account for variations in regional accents. I’d have such fun with that kind of option, and it would make all my searches for Reading (rhymes with wedding) both efficient and fun!

Though if leading (Rhymes with Reading and reading) was an option I’d probably pick it without realising…

A strange mutation in body fashion can be seen in the windows of Reading’s large chain stores

Headless mannequins seemingly move towards you in a manner yet more creepy than the infamous Jackson’s mannequins

In the first Elizabethan era the fashion was to dress children in miniature forms of adult clothing.  With heads still attached, though Liz’s dad was keen on perpetuating headlessness

Since then, the English fashions for dressing children have varied greatly.  But generally there has been a clear distinction between styles for different age groups.  Youngsters are dressed distinctively. You could tell the age of a child by the clothes they wore. It looks like this dress fashion is beginning to follow the theme of  the first Elizabethan period, dress children as mini-adult and

Off with their heads!

(whatever age)

Israel…   …Afghanistan…          …Vietnam…

baffled

I was baffled

by the organisation

the organisation of the books, by country, in the Reading central library

there is some organisation principle in place

can you guess the logic behind the juxtapositions?

Nestled amongst the pound stores, opticians, charity shops, and estate agents of Friar Street is the CMart.

CMart – a store full of Chinese goodies. Without subtitles.

No subtitles!

While standing in the check-out line holding some packages with very enticing pictures 2 fellows behind me got very animated in what is possibly Chinese. I smiled at them and they explained in broken English that the package they were holding came from Bejing. The check-out chap smiled, I smiled, a first class purchase experience, even though I’m not sure what I bought.

I’ll be back for more happy customer and staff ambience.

PS 100 word post before the PS

In a bid to update my working wardrobe I ventured into the mahem that is Reading town centre on New Years eve. Jacksons is one of the first stores that I pass on my way into town.

Tweed wool culottes! Just what every quintessentially english gal needs in her working wardrobe

Jacksons store certainly goes where no other family store would dare to go.Trousers disguised as a skirt, in prickly wool, in a classic tweed.  Jackson’s never fails to suprise and delight.

They are the best!

Somehow, I managed to resist this little indulgence…  … will my work-colleagues bemoan my cowardice?

PS 100 word post before the PS

Halfway up the Thames Valley’s infamous Streatly Bobsliegh run the Reading team stop to discuss

how best to use their cardboard sled

advanced tree-stump avoidance tactics

healthcare provision

Recently the BBC reported that Reading town would be the victim of a

biting northeasterly wind

• Not nipping like an over excited jack rustle russel terrier
• Not chewing like a Harlem globe trotter with a Rowntrees fruit pastle
• Not sucking like an elderly person who’s teeth have been left in a glass

BITING

Unlike the Newcastle locals, the Reading town locals can be seen shivering at the Bus stops wearing tooth-proof clothing.

Your average height, 5″5 ¾, English gal standing in the stalls at a gig (Pop concert) has to decide whether to crane her neck for a view or

DANCE her socks off

Given the bands were Squeeze and the Lightening Seeds the decsion was easy – I opted for sock abondonment. Whenever I glanced up and between the gently rocking plumpified bodies of the middle-aged couples afront I could see fabulous back-drops and light displays. Displays clearly designed to entertaining the heightedly-average person such as myself. Good show. It was.

During the interval I joined the logistic challenge of ordering beers by acting as part of the chain to pass them from the bar through the 10-person deep seemingly random crowd that was actually multiple orderly queues. I’d forgotten the subtle skills and social coordination necessary to purchase a round of drinks at a sell-out concert in a large venue. It was fun, I got to meet and talk to other people in the Queue about their journey’s to the gig, their past experiences of seeing the bands. It’s a friendly psuedo-muddle.

By lifting my arm into the air I gained a snapshot into what the world looks like for taller people and those average heighties who are prepared to wear ankle-threatening high  heals. With only 6 inches difference in height the world would look so different.

4 smiles: Ratings explained

The Lightening Seeds sang the life of Riley

Squeeze sang up the junction

In the Reading town central library, they demonstrate their signage literally. I was left wishing that all signs were large print because my spectacles were not up to standard for the standard print signage.

dance teacher: Wasabi makes you jedder
wendy: Jedder?
dance teacher: yes jedder (demonstrates by shaking her shoulders)
wendy: Oh (signifying realisation), Judder! Where do you come from?
dance teacher: Reading, why?
wendy: (decides not to mention her unusual accent)  I’ve never met anyone who actually came from Reading
dance teacher: where are you from?
wendy: Bristol
dance teacher: whereabouts in Bristol do you live?
wendy: I don’t live in Bristol, I live in Reading
dance teacher: Oh, whereabouts in Reading do you live
wendy: Cemetery Junction

mutually understanding silence

dance teacher: a lot of people wear hats like yours in Bristol
wendy: (pause of disbelief)… I got this little beauty from Jacksons
dance teacher: Jacksons?
wendy: Jacksons, at Jacksons corner in downtown Reading, the shop
dance teacher: Oh

During the evening I put more effort into keeping the conversation going by trying to find out more about the dance teacher. An interesting life; writing a novel, travelled to the US for research where she met some influential dancers. She was given the dance business after she met the previous owners at lessons, the work involved arranging themed hen-night evenings and many more interesting stories.

The teacher looked happy enough, the conversation flowed, while I focussed on her. For a brief moment she appeared to show a interest in me when I mentioned my admirations for the fabulous Josephine Baker. But the conversation almost always felt like hard work, mostly disappointing because of

• incongruence with my experience of the world “people in their 50′s are too scared to leave the house or go anywhere on their own“. I mainly mix with fiesty fifties.
• what seemed like an extreme lack of self confidence “I can’t dance“. Yet she teaches it.
• naivity “I didn’t realise that running a dance business would involve a lot of hard work”
• lack of an active interest in wendy!
  

She smiled as she talked, conversation liberally punctuated with self-deprecation and giggles. She was  interesting and some might find her self-deprecation charming.

I discovered a fabulous events list while I was exploring Reading Borough Library service’s website. But it was a non-interactive web page, I’d have to keep coming back to the web page to look for new events and changes in events. Being unable to resist the opportunity to share the wisdom of my knowledge about blogging and RSS I wrote to them suggesting that they consider changing the format of their events calendar to a blog so that people could subscribe.

The response was quick, personal and positive, very impressive.

Now I just have to resist making lots of suggestions that range from the simple, plausible and valuable to pure science fantasy and fun

My overdue trip to join Reading library. Overdue will not turn into a relationship theme

I walked up to the desk opposite the door with the large sign saying membership. A young lady watched me as I picked up a leaflet describing how to join. easy, fill in this form provide evidence of address (Driving license) and normal signature (Debit card). As I reached for a pen from the pot on the far side of the desk the young lady walked over.  She picked and passed me a pen as she sat down good, I get to sit down now

wendy: can I take a photograph of that sign?

staff: Oh! No-one’s ever asked that before…Um…if there are no people in the picture

Excellent, the Saturday staff feel able to make decisions on unusual requests. The girl sweetly listened to me tell her about Kevin’s blog as I completed the form. Then she went into coorporation style ‘rote-retell’ mode as she desciribed the contents of the new member’s pack before handing it to me.

• 2 hours of free internet access a day
• The addresses and opening times of all the branches, including one in Palmers park that opens ’till 7pm 2 nights midweek
• A free CD/DVD loan because of my new membership
• charge-rates
• Frequently Asking Questions
• Special services (alas all the ‘coffee mornings’ are on weekdays, when I can’t join in)
• Adult services (adult book groups. OH! who’d have guessed?! One group meets in the ‘Back of Beyond‘)
• Children services (they have Pyjamma evenings in the library – wish I was a real child!)
• Toy library

After this preliminary dance I was let-loose on the stock. …..ooOOOOooooo…. I left with an unabridged Audio book; Ian McEwan’s ‘On chesil beach’ read by the author.  It may not smell of book, but the commute to work this week will be a joy….

Goodies, lovely goodies…

The Abbot Cook is a Mitchell and Butler pub at Cemetery junction in Reading town. You can see the Arthur Hill swimming baths through the window in the night-time picture. In this decade it has changed to the Abbot Cook from the Upin Arms and before that from the  ‘Jack of both sides’. The pub appears to reflect and redefine the character of the area, charting social change.

The Upin Arms used to court the custom of Reading town’s many students being placed half way between  Thames Valley University buildings and the Reading University campus. It had the feel of a vampires lair where the vampires drank shorts and Lager. Only one ale available and it was not hand pulled. Dark, and possibly a bit dank, with a sticky carpet, loud music, TV screens playing sport or music videos, cheap microwaved food and long opening hours.  Service was slow and surly. Recent Government cuts will inevitably lead to fewer and poorer students, their target customers are disappearing.  The pub re-invented itself as the Abbot Cook targeting an altogether different customer. Hopefully it will appeal to my friends and family.

The name ‘Jack of both sides’ refers to a proverb ‘jack of both sides, is before long, trusted by nobody, and abused by both parties.’  and to its physical location with entrances on two sides, towards two roads. According to some pub reviews it used to have trouble with drugs and violence.

As the pub has moved to serve different segments of the community so the character of its location, Cemetery Junction, is gradually changing. It’s definitiely calmed down in its most recent incarnation.  

The Abbot Cook incarnation is named after a 16th century local Catholic Martyr, the Abbot of the now-rubble Reading Abby,  Hugh Cook Farringdon. The pub serves overpriced average food (£9 for a chicken breast and some potatoes in a mushroom sauce)  including some vegetarian options. There is a friendly, bare-parquet-flooring with authentic victorian furniture, church-candle riddled, warmth to it’s atmosphere.

It has about 4 real ales on tap, they pull pints into jugs and have oversized stemmed glasses for half pints. Oh! I felt all girly drinking a half pint, never again. The staff don’t know what a slieve glass is, but they are phenomenally polite, cheerful and helpful. One bar man spent nigh-on half an hour talking to be about Mitchell and Butler and the different chains of pubs they own. I’m guessing he’s on the management trainee track.  It has a supportive and friendly atmosphere. Like me it’s pleasantly quirky – succulent plants in teacups decorate each table. There are also some double sockets for the cupboard and her companions.

My local pub has become somewhere I want to go.

roll your right sleeve up!

I was slightly shocked by the services provided by a local General Practice (GP) in Reading town. It reminded me of 1975 when I won a copy of  ‘ It shouldn’t happen to a vet’ in a school competition. I was also a bit shocked to realise that a vet would have to stick thier arm up the backside of a bovine. Vets roll up their sleeves before doing this

talking to a Heathrow security guard from South Africa (Durban) while we wait for the Reading Railair coach

South African: where are you from?

wendy: west England

South Afircan: I’ve been trying to place your accent, it doesn’t sound just English

wendy: I did live in the USA for 7 years

South African: Yes, that’s what I’m hearing

Turns out that the South African security gaurd lives less than 500 yards away from me in Reading. I feel safe.

how are you getting home?

 I’m walking

NO!       let me give you a lift

I like to walk, I don’t live far away

how long will it take you?  No, its not safe out there,   let me give you a lift,   I insist

I couldn’t resist challenging her beliefs with my experiences

I often walk home after 11pm, at minight, one, two even three in the morning. It’s very vibrant and friendly on the streets. I don’t feel or get threatened. Maybe there’s a special dispensation for the locals?

If you’re sure, if you insist, do take care…

Part of me thinks

”for goodness sake, get a life and stop applying your middle-class snooty prejudices to the place I live which is not the crime hub!’

another part of me thinks

what a sweet sociable caring lady, she really cares if I get home ok or not

I walked safely home alone, people smiled and talked to me as I walked passed. Another person will offer me the protection of a car ride home on another night.  They will not step out of their safety zone, they will keep their beliefs whatever I say or do.  I will keep my experience of friendly non-violent, non-threatening locals

The Huntley and Palmer building has been converted into flats.   A new garden has been installed out front of the building,   the garden is full of pebbles and palm trees.   Pressumably preparing for global warming

Huntley and Palmers' building tropical garden

In the foyer of Reading’s downtown  homebase an Owl collects donations for a rescue and sanctuary.   Big, beautiful, fluffy owl with efficient looking talons.   The handler talks about giving young criminals lessons in how to look after owls.   How this  skill and responsibility enables them to develop self esteem and respect for others

wendy: Northumberland Avenue please

Taxi driver: how far up Norvie do you want to go?

wendy: what do you mean by ‘up Norvie’?

Taxi driver: that’s what we call Northumberland Avenue

wendy: near the Angling store,  who are ‘we’?

Taxi driver: taxi drivers

Ashley F Harrold and guest  Lesley Saunders reading at Reading’s poetry cafe.  

In May one of my most-favourite poets, if I am  allowed more than one favourite, Brian Patten, will be the guest.     That’s as exciting as the delivery of dry chopped wood to a house heated by a wood-burner during a cold-snap when the current supply of wood has run-out.

There appears to be an ongoing controversey about the  labelling and meaning of the sections. These sections, bits,  stages,  modes, are referred to as ‘halves’ by the young bearded Mr. Harrold.   This controversey is revisited at the begining of each cafe meeting to ensure the audience is not suprised by the unexpected onset of an interval or ‘half’.

Many locals take part in open Mic’ sections.   That’s not open micky-taking it’s open-microphone in trendy shorthand.    I’m beginning to recognise some of the open mic  regulars,   especially those who’s work I like.  

In 2004 Ashley  said:

“Most of the open mic poets we have are pretty good, I think they must put something in the water in Reading as we always have a decent quality, compared with other open mics elsewhere in the country, which is heartening and inexplicable.”

Absolutely

A trickle of water from the cold water tap.  

Less that a trickle from the hot water tap,  

Not enough flow to ignite the combi-bolier heating.   Brrrr…  

I made a cup of tea,   inspecting all visible pipes in the house and the stop-cock that supplies water to the house.  

All were well.

Thames Water website show a daily list of major water mains leaks and areas they affect.   There is a leak nearby, but it shouldn’t be affecting my home.   There is a note that they are having difficulty getting to burst water mains  and that the phones are very busy.   I should be  patient.  

I coat, boot and glove-up.   Then carry  my spade through the ice and snow covered garden.

The garden water tap is frozen. I can’t turn it. No sign of a leak.   I get to the roadside and dig out my water valve and check the meter.   It’s not ticking over.   No water coming onto my property.   Phew, no leak on my property means I dont have to call out a plumber on my expense.   Inconvenience rather than inconvenience and financial burden.   Phew.

The neighbors have no water at all.    I offer them use of my trickle to fill their kettle for tea.   We watch as a child hikes by with 4 large bottles of water.   A man walks by and asks if we have water,   we tell him no and he is pleased.   He’s just visited his lonely frightened mother, he goes back to reasure her that its the water mains.  

Plenty of white snow around for creating untreated water.  I’m not going to die of thirst in the near future or run out of Tea  

I wonder if snow is full of chemicals or fresh enough to drink as it once was.  Luckily I haven’t had to find out – yet.

The trickle from my tap filled some bottles for tea and the bath to flush the toilet.

Here in the UK we have roads who’s whole purpose is to provide relief,   relief Roads.  

The  pleasingly named Rose Kiln Lane is a Berkshire relief road.   Roads that provide relief.   A ver pleasing idea.  

Having a stressful day at work? Then visit Rose Kiln Lane to find relief.

Judging by this web camera picture very few people  have been using Rose Kiln Lane for relief    during this cold snap.   No yellow snow, cars, or people to be seen.  

Perhaps I was a bit premature with the melting snow post.

Thomas has been buried alive.

I’ve cunningly avoided yet another Gym subscription nightmare by resorting to digging out the Wendy House garden path.

After 24 hours of snow, 30cm in my back garden, the local shops are suffering from depleted stocks.      People who when stranded at home must have a steady supply of toast, ideally spread with marmite, are buying thier bread.  No new deliveries.   You do the maths…

Toastie!

Will I have to compromise the purity of my toast by taking my marmite on toasted teacakes? Tonight I’m planning to pop around my perky, yet elderly, neighbour’s house to…

…share some seasonal bubbly – more toastie!

…and snow stories in front of a glowing fireplace – even more  toastie!

then I’ll take their food order round to the corner shop where I’ll

battle for some buns.