Sunday 23rd March - London - Churchill and Whitehall

I have annoyed the cat by making a cup of tea using my Philips coffee maker (It makes tea as well). She has huffed off my lap and curled up at the end of the bed,

and I can continue writing up our London Adventures of last Sunday.

After the service in Westminster Abbey, we emerged into a blistering cold wind and mooched around Parliament Square. The Clock kindly stood still for photographs, and then Big Ben obligingly struck 12 - the sonorous chimes echoing over the squalling gulls and squawking sight-seers.

Looking east from the Blue Bridge on St. James's Park Lake. Wikipedia

Round the corner, along towards St James' Park, looking bright and welcoming in the crisp light, hosts of nodding daffodils brightening up the scene, and there was a discrete doorway to the underground Churchill War Rooms Museum.

Public entrance, before the 2012 redesign, Clive Steps with the Treasurybuilding on the right and the Foreign and Commonwealth Office on the left. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Churchill_War_Rooms

Their website recommended allowing 90 minutes for a visit - we stayed considerably longer and still missed things.

What struck me was what a Great Character Churchill was. His story can be read elsewhere, but to fight through three major wars, working up to 18 hours a day in World War 2, to write Nobel Prize winning book, to paint very decent oil paintings, and to earn so much money through writing (although it did mention that American friends bailed him out of one personal financial crisis) - when I look at current recent Prime Ministers they appear pale shadows of the sort of person he was. And the conditions his staff worked in, underground in stuffy, insanitary, gloomy, cramped and uncongenial underground bunkers.There was a board displaying the weather up above - Sunny, Raining, or, if a bombing raid was in progress, Windy. Sometimes the staff would stay below ground for days, sleeping in very basic accommodation in an even lower underground level.

Add caption

  Panorama of Horse Guards Parade, Old Admiralty Building, Household Cavalry Museum, Scotland Office and St. James's Park and the Guards Memorial, from wikipedia

After all that it was late, and past lunch time. We walked along the edge of the park, across the Horse Guards Parade Ground and through the arch to Whitehall. There was a long-suffering young soldier under the arch, with sword held truly vertical, managing to maintain his composure as people took pictures of their friends standing beside him. Through the next courtyard, and - we couldn't have timed it better - they were about to change the two mounted soldiers who had been stationed in their "sentry-stables". A shout, and two huge brown horses came clopping out of a gateway, straight at the rows of tourists who were milling about in the way. They scattered hither and thither, squeaking like mice, while the soldiers and their chargers proceeded without hesitation to their positions. A couple more shouts and a bit of stamping about from the sergeant in charge, and the changeover was completed.  

We continued on our way towards Trafalgar Square, diving into a reasonably traditional-looking pub, serving everything from traditional-looking fish-and-chips and bangers-and-mash to nachos and chilli prawns.

Our Americans had fish-and-chips - one decided to brave the mushy peas, the other stuck with "garden" peas. We had bangers-and-mash (we'd had fish and chips the previous night!)

It was quite a challenge, trying to answer questions about the historical setting of everything we had seen. My history knowledge has huge gaps, as I gave up history in school shortly after Queen Elizabeth, and rejoined it when I changed schools to find myself with Gladstone and Disraeli. Anything in between has been gleaned from reading fiction; Georgette Heyer (snippets about the wars with France, and Jane Austen (who appears to have been fairly oblivious to world events), Sharpe stories and C S Forester "Hornblower" books, and also programme notes in classical music concerts (Handel's Water Music - the Hanoverian succession? 1812 Overture, something to do with a battle?)

To be continued....

Friday 28th March - Another Duvet Day

I'm sitting up in bed, taking another day off.

At the moment I'm feeling a bit of a fraud, sitting here, tapping away. However, bitter experience tells me that if I bounce up and say "I'm fine", set off on my rounds for the day (coffee with parents, three and a half hours teaching samba and recorders, an hour of private teaching in the evening) I will be flattened again by evening. I don't feel quite so bad about letting this school down - they won't have to pay me, and the children come out of ordinary lessons to the recorder classes. In other schools, if I don't turn up the teachers have to alter their plans and suddenly deliver a lesson when they would otherwise be doing something else.

I'm learning to pay attention to the signs; eyes refusing to stay open, increased breathlessness, thigh muscles feeling as though I have just climbed the Empire
State Building. That's how I felt when I got back from a day teaching yesterday. If I just keep going, I will end up with another chest infection. Boo-Hoo.


So, I have rung my parents to cry off, and will ring this afternoon's school - again - that makes three times this term, which is a bit upsetting) and spend the day in bed. I have even gone so far as to connect myself to my oxygen machine, which I normally only have to use at night, to give myself every chance to recuperate, hopefully BEFORE I'm actually ill again.

It's a new thing, this "giving in" to a lurgy instead of ploughing on with the aid of aspro and willpower. But there's no point in receiving good medical advice if you then don't follow it.

Someone is very pleased; the upstairs cat loves it when I'm having a duvet day. She has just cottoned on to what is happening and appeared beside me. She's got herself nicely settled but is making it nearly impossible for reach over and finish this post.

Sunday 23rd March - London - Westminster Abbey

We were entertaining some American work colleagues who were over on business for a few days. They were keen to "see London", and in particular "see a castle" so we had directed them towards The Tower of London for Saturday, when they were sightseeing by themselves. They managed to fit in an open-top bus tour, but discovered that The Tower of London completely filled the rest of the day, apart from catching a river boat back to the station.

On Sunday, we collected them from their hotel and caught an early train, as one of them was keen to attend church. The obvious choice seemed to be the 10 am service of Matins in Westminster Abbey. What5 a brilliant idea!

We arrived at 9:30, walking up from Victoria Station (how I wish I had put more than four layers of clothes on), and were directed, past the graves of Elgar, Purcell and other eminent composers to seats in the Quire (memories of the old prayer book; "in quires and places where they sing...").

http://www.westminster-abbey.org/visit-us/highlights/the-quire

Do you think that the candle-stick-shaped lamps everywhere are Real Gold? They have hallmarks...

None of the clergy or choir walked anywhere without being preceded by a robed warder (verger?) bearing a stout stave with a significant chunk of brass or silver or gold atop. Three impressive persons wearing long red cloaks were lead to their seats nearer the altar. Four enchanting little boys, wearing the red cassock but not the white surplice or ruffs were lead to their seats just in front of us, where, sitting all by themselves, they behaved impeccably. I wish that the children I wrestle with every day could have seen them. Then the clergy and choir arrived, filed into their places, bowed as one, and gave their full attention (mostly, some of the boys were a little more "relaxed", shall we say) to the work ahead.

So we listened to sublime, soaring, world-class choral singing, every word, every note perfectly in place. There were psalms, and readings, responses, prayers, there was sitting and standing and facing east and kneeling, all clearly set out in the service sheet.

The choir left just before the sermon and final hymn, (excellent sermon, part of a series based on books by C S Lewis, and today taken from "A Grief Observed).

As we headed through poets corner and along the cloister towards the café we could hear the soaring voices of the choir rehearsing for the next service which due to start in a matter of minutes.



The disadvantage of visiting the Abbey on Sunday is that it is closed for sightseeing - the advantage - the wonderful, wonderful church services that anyone can go to.

Friday 21st March - If only they smiled more.

Music exam time again.

Eleven young children taking their music exams on various instruments - trumpets, saxophones, violins and flutes this time.

It makes such a difference when the examiner gives the children a smile as they come in, helps them with the music stand, exchanges some innocuous comment.

This one was straight-faced - not exactly unfriendly, but not very welcoming or smiley.

It really made me think about the importance of the way you speak to people, interact, make eye-contact, your facial expression, whether you actually have a pleasant expression on your face or just a pre-occupied air.

We'll get the results in a couple of weeks. Hopefully the severity of their manner wasn't an indication of how they were approaching the marks.

Tuesday 25th March - Winter. Again.

Cast ne'er a clout 'til May is out.

Last week I donned my new "Summer Uniform" - thin flowery skirt, t-shirt, cardigan or jumper, summery tights. I was fine until Friday, when the sunshine was deceiving and the cold wind all too real. Luckily I was able to zip home at lunchtime and change into thermal trousers, thermal shirt, thermal fleece, and all was well again.

Over the weekend, I alternately froze or merely shivered, in various locations.

Yesterday and today, I am back in "Winter Uniform" - thicker skirt, thermal tights, boots, thermal t-shirt, woollen jumper.

heigh ho. English Spring. Now you feel it, now you don't!

Saturday 15th March - Hayling Island

I've been wanting to visit Hayling Island since about 1975.

It's a long story, so old, that I've forgotten why I ever wanted to go. We ended up there on Saturday.

Lunch at a pub (very good whitebait and chips) and then down to the Ferry end of the Island. It was sunny and breezy - I was 90% sure I wouldn't need my coat. But I put it on anyway, and I was glad of it.

We walked along the top of a shingle ridge. Actually, we walked along a carpet of seashells, which were thickly layered in a clearly defined band across the brow;

Plenty of other people were making the most of the day; horseriders,

land-yachters,

and wanna-be Andy Goldsworthys.

We walked out to the southern edge, where the great sand bank called Winner Sanders was exposed by the low tide. This was where all the land yachters were making for, to race up and down the hard wet sand, pulled by the same kind of kites that the surfers were using.

It was a great afternoon. We walked, and took pictures,

and took pictures, and walked, until our faces were red and my hair was tangled and it was time to go home. 

Saturday 15th March - Music

I'm rather pleased with this

which I arranged for a choir of unknown numbers of unknown voices and unknown ability and experience. In the end fourteen people came, four men and ten ladies, and after about ten minutes were able to sing this through unaccompanied. Result!

It's for their Maundy Thursday church service next month.

If you want a copy, leave a comment and I'll send you the file.

Thursday 5th March - The Happiness

 

On Thursday afternoon, driving back home along a dull stretch of dual carriageway, I suddenly realised that I was completely happy.

This is not an unusual state for me - I am used to having these moments of feeling totally, entirely, for-no-particular-reason, happy. Warmer than contentment, calmer than joy. A a deep, deep feeling, like a well, like a pool, or a lake, of clear strong, refreshing water.

Maybe it was just because of the weather - sunshine and cherry blossom and daffodils and blue skies. But I have felt The Happiness in bad weather, on cold days, in crowded streets, at all sorts of seasons, in all kinds of places  in times gone by.

What is blog-worthy is that this feeling had been absent for so long that I had forgotten about it. I probably haven't felt The Happiness all year, so it is nice to get it back again.

Cherry tree © Glysiak, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported
http://www.nhm.ac.uk/nature-online/british-natural-history/urban-tree-survey/identify-trees/tree-factsheets/c-to-e/cherries/cherries-factsheet/index.html

Saturday 1st March - Avoir du Pois and Lent

Ohhhh Yes! All that sitting around for three weeks has made a difference to my weight.

Not much, but those pounds can't stay there - if every chest infection results in a weight gain of 2 pounds, and then there's Easter on the horizon, and Summer and ice cream, and then, later on, Christmas

Those pounds have to go.

I've been reading an article in my mother's Good Housekeeping magazine about how someone lost 42 pounds in 42 weeks. Without dieting. Without doing anything more spectacular than being sensible and patient and determined. In other words, common sense. No tricks, no magic methods, no obsessing with food.

After all, we all know what makes us fat. We all know what we shouldn't eat.

So far, this week, I have walked away from one toasted teacake opportunity, two biscuit moments and a toast temptation.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/spiced_teacakes_29429

Unfortunately I have given in to two hot chocolates and two (but not three) glasses of sherry. I suspect flat white coffees should be rationed too.

I could give up chocolate for Lent, but that would be breaking my New Year's Resolution. And I'm not going to give up biscuits and cake. In my line of work I need occasional chocolate and biscuits and cake to keep me sweet! So, I shall take up MODERATION for Lent.

My other Lent challenges are to OBEY THE RULES, and to DO IT NOW (instead of procrastinating).

I'm also planning to replace hours frittered away on Free Cell with getting a couple of my on-going half-finished craft projects completed.

Not very spiritual, you might say. Well, I've been reading quite a lot of "spiritual" and "religious" stuff, one way and another, and I think that these challenges are right on target.

Saturday 1st March - First Day of Spring

And also St David's Day.

We have daffodils outside the front door now

and some of the very elderly (and confused?) cherry trees in our road have been in blossom for several weeks.

I hadn't realised that the anenomes in the pot by the front door

close up at night

 

rather like I do. I've been alert and ready and energetic first thing all this week, but feeling bug-eyed with tiredness by the time I've taught the last pupil and finished the evening meal.

 

I'm glad to be back at work, though, after the past few weeks. Not working is really nice, provided that I can fill my time with MY choice of activities - my choice of chilling out, or being busy. Enforced idleness has been a bit of a challenge!