Snuff by Terry Pratchett
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I was very much looking forward to this, and as a long-time Vimes groupie, enjoyed it but missed the sparkle from other Discworld books. The title suggests a darker subject than usual, perhaps, but I still miss the lightness of touch. The literary nods are all there, and the story holds, and there are enjoyable characters. (I also have to award a prize for the glorious name of Bewilderforce Gumption!)
Lux in tenebris
I am always chary of too early a start to Christmas, but it is almost Advent, so it seemed like a good idea to go to a Candlelit Christmas recital that was part of the Worcestershire Shindig rural arts touring programme.
We tipped up at Harvington Village Hall last night knowing little about the performer, Richard Durrant, other than if it has strings, he seems to play it. The barefoot arrival of the performer filled me with deep suspicion of gimmickry and the distinctly non-standard guitar raised eyebrows. The former proved irrelevant (if occasionally distracting on a chilly night!) and the latter produced a gloriously rich sound.
We left knowing more of performer and repertoire, and having enjoyed an eclectic selection of music from an arrangement of Paraguayan harp music to an 11th century setting of a 5th century text, by way of delightful settings of Coventry Carol & the Rocking Carol plus a polar bear encounter…
We are very fortunate in having the Shindig programme in the county, particularly in the current climate. In supporting small, local venues to take on acts they wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford, it brings the arts to places that wouldn’t otherwise have the range of options, and it enables people to try things they wouldn’t otherwise discover. It also keeps a range of live performance accessible. We’ve seen plays, pantos, revues, classical concerts, multimedia presentations, world music & dance performances, folk, jazz, cabaret….
We have certainly gone to events knowing little of a performer or moved outside our usual cultural comfort zones, knowing that we aren’t risking a fortune. We will happily try out something at village hall pricing where we wouldn’t (or couldn’t afford to) take many risks going to a major city centre venue at four and five times the price plus parking and travel. I can only think of one performance in all the years that we didn’t thoroughly enjoy, so not a bad hit rate!
The audiences are primarily very local, which encourages community engagement, though there are other Shindig groupies like ourselves who go a tad further afield. Although events are usually quite well attended, some well to capacity, I am slightly surprised that more village halls and local venues haven’t taken advantage of this and that it isn’t much better known in the county. Sometimes we don’t know how lucky we are… Long may it continue.
Oops, haven’t got to grips with this – thought I’d published this days ago!
So – a belated welcome to great-granddaughter Ava, with congratulations to proud parents George and Dan.
This is a strange confession, but I have been a closet Appalachian clogging groupie for over 18 years. I am one no longer, it seems….
Our friend Yvonne has danced with the Bromsgrove-based group One Step Beyond for those many years. The group has been in existence for a little longer, some 24 years, and took its final bow on Saturday in Redditch at a ceilidh, where they took centre stage in the interval and performed with their usual energy and aplomb.
We have enjoyed this slightly unusual activity (as spectators only!) on many occasions over the years, and One Step Beyond took on the cultural mantle in the best of ways, both perpetuating the traditional and adding their own take on the dance form to ensure its continuation and ‘refresh’.
Autumnal lake at Croome.
It’s always a pleasure to have friends and family to stay, as we did last week. As the Saturday was gloriously sunny, though freeeeezing (even for those of us inured to northern climes), we walked round Croome Park and thence to Pershore for a quick look around.
The autumn colours were quite glorious. Worcestershire may not have the most dramatic scenery but it has many charms, and Croome is a pleasure we enjoy across the seasons. It is all too easy to become so familiar with immediate surroundings that we fail to recognise the beauty, and that’s another reason (other than the obvious) why I enjoy having visitors to take round. It always refreshes my view of where we live, and reminds me what a pleasant place it is and how fortunate we are.
Doing the odd bit of work for the Worcestershire Wildlife Trust has also introduced me to lovely woodland, delightful meadows and other little nooks around the county that I might otherwise not have discovered.
The view across the park.
Whilst we have cause to complain of a really bad summer, it also highlights our essentially very moderate climate that when Hurricane Sandy was causing such chaos, we pottered happily in the sun, albeit wrapped up like Nanook of the north.
I can’t believe we’re nearly a week into June. What happened to May? Other than the usual routine stuff of the volunteer work, domestic bits and pieces, camera club and NHW admin and the inevitable succession of medical appointments we both seem to have in ever-increasing numbers as more bits seize up, drop off or just pack in, there were a couple of notable highlights, including the passing of the Olympic torch.
The first week of May began with Stewart celebrating a former colleague’s 80th birthday in some style, followed shortly by us visiting my hearteningly lively octogenarian relatives in Shropshire and going out for a very enjoyable lunch and natter. How come we feel and look older than they all do, damn it?
We ended that week with a very English day out with friends nosing at gardens in Eckington after a good pub Sunday lunch, and going on to my old stamping grounds at Warwick Uni for a recording of I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue. (Jeremy Hardy, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Colin Sell, Jack Dee, Tony Hawkes and the eternal Barry Cryer.) 
A really enjoyable day, including the inevitable re-runs of ISIHAC games such as the late arrivals at various balls, and even harking back to ISIRTA favourite lines in the car on the way back! (I’m Lady Constance de Coverlet but you can call me Bedspread…).
The rather civilised cinema experience at the Regal in Evesham encouraged us out to a couple of catch-up films, Woman in Black and Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. I was not to sure about going to the latter, particularly as I find Bill Nighy a bit irritating to watch, but the feelgood factor worked, and along with the rest of the audience we came out smiling. As for Woman In Black, we feared the worst from the bunch of teenage girls who were twittering like an aviary behind us and throwing in flippant comments to start with, but within a very short time the only sounds from them were sharp intakes of breath and the occasional shriek of shock, a tribute to the efficiently spooky classic Hammer treatment.
Catching up with friends took a bit of a back seat but we managed a few get-togethers. Had a former close colleague and her husband over for nibbles and a natter, which was really enjoyable and confirmed that though there are some elements of the challenges of work that I might hanker after even now, it’s really only the people that I miss. A lunchtime walk with Carole and current daft dog ended at the Camp at Grimley, still a surreal place to sit in the sun surrounded by fowl of all shapes and sizes, including the swan that decided to offer out the poor dog! Pat had a few of us over for supper prior to the half-term dispersal of various friends, which was very pleasant. A family birthday was a good excuse for a Sunday lunchtime get-together at home and an even better excuse to ignore the diet and make Stew’s favourite and should-be-forbidden chocolate & raspberry Pavlova – mercifully all eaten up so no tempting leftovers. Last week saw a quick dash up the motorway to Stafford for our infrequent but regular catch-up with my old friends from school days, Pat and Chris; we meet halfway at a handy pub for a natter and meal, and it’s always a real pleasure. Scary to realise it’s now almost half a century since Pat & I first met, though (47 years come September, to be precise). We also polished off a couple of bottles of wine sitting in the garden with neighbours when the sun finally deigned to shine, something we should do more often.
Although our concert going season has mostly come to an end we spotted the return of the Imagined Village to Brum Town Hall, including Jackie Oates in this year’s line-up, and decided to go. Bending the Dark was a good night’s entertainment again, though I think I enjoyed the 2010 incarnation rather more overall. Having said that ,the encore of “Cold Haily Rainy Night” was a real energiser, and a complete contrast to the moody opening of “Walking to the Shore” from Barney Morse-Brown of Duotone.
The annual checkup with the oncologist didn’t spot any problems, which was a really good note on which to end the month.
Two tickets to the Worcester Olympic Torch celebration arrived yesterday; I’d forgotten I’d applied for them, to be honest, and had no expectations as it was well after the deadline.
I looked at all the restrictions and instructions – no parking at the venue, no seat guaranteed but no chairs to be taken in, no bags to be taken, no cameras with zoom allowed (interestingly equated with being a professional it seems – have they looked at the average phone cam of late?), no umbrellas (though fortunately the weather played ball), no food or drink (there go the Polo mints…)….
I confess, I read all this and much, much, more, with increasing disbelief, until a Meldrew moment had me ringing the venue to tell them unfortunately I couldn’t use the tickets after all. I also realised that as they expected you to be there over an hour and a half early, we would have missed the torch relay actually passing the end of our road!
Result. We ambled down the road a few yards from home and joined in the good-natured line-up of locals along the road. As we waited for the convoy, a few passing cyclists got some suitably Olympic cheering on and responded with regal waves and goodwill.
Eventually the torchbearer (Pam Jones) arrived and the handover took place smoothly. The impromptu roadside community gradually dispersed, and we neighbours all set out to return to our normal lives behind closed doors or in our fenced-in back gardens in the early evening sunshine.
I realised I had rather enjoyed being part of the chatty, amiable, pop-up community and wished it could be prolonged. It prompted me to ask a neighbour to join us in that fenced-in back garden and help dispose of a bottle of Gaillac red. Something to do more often, I think, without waiting for the excuse….
Even the dog wanted to watch….
The Carrier by Jamal Mahjoub
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
The novel’s twin strands of the modern-day historical/archaeological investigation and the 17th century story which it unfolds, echo the central themes of the intertwining of East and West at a critical point in the scientific field and the cultural barriers for the key individuals which are created through prejudice and fear.
The historical tale is evocatively written and is an engagingly ripping yarn. The added dimensions of how fear and ignorance block scientific advance and the focus on the characters who manage to escape or transcend the cultural barriers give the novel some added texture and depth.
I didn’t find the final part of the novel as satisfying as the rest, but it’s still a good read overall. It contrives to address some uncomfortable themes and deliver relevant historical background without leaving readers feeling they’ve been too earnestly lectured; it kept me turning the pages and left me wanting to read more by the author.
Well, it’s not just me thinking this “official drought” is causing problems. The Asparagus Festival (yep, that’s for real) tomorrow has had to be cancelled.http://britishasparagusfestival.org/ The recent – and continuing – rain has royally stuffed the “gras” – asparagus – crop for now.
Hopefully the auction (27th May at the Fleece Inn, Bretforton) and other events at the end of May will be luckier with the weather.
It is one of the more eccentric local events!
In previous years we have popped along to the Fleece Inn at Bretforton and been entertained by anything from mediaeval or Morris dancing to craft fairs and draught horses…
The expert and affable Henry Sandon is a feature of the celebrations this year as well. I don’t think our attic will be furnishing excitement for Henry’s valuations this (or any) year!
What I took to be a one-off appearance of Gus, the Asparagus Man turns out to be a regular feature also.
I suspect the identity of the terminally embarrassed actor inside the green felt suit varies from year to year, in order to offer the chance of this career-enhancing performance to as many young thespians as possible…
The faintly surreal vision of a stick of asparagus tucking into a burger will stay with me for some time.
Despite the gentle mockery here, it’s a bit of fun, so fingers crossed for the 27th.
I suddenly realised today that it’s five years since I was headed to the hospital for a bone scan to see if, or how far, the recently diagnosed inflammatory breast cancer (IBC) had spread.
It had taken since the previous November to pin down the diagnosis, with a series of tests and biopsies proving uncertain until April 07 when the last test which the specialist did, saying it was just a check for something really unusual which he didn’t expect… and of course it proved to be just that. Oddly, I gather it was the second case he’d seen in a short time, and these were the only two he’d seen in his career.
What hit me again when I remembered this was the total feeling of doom with which I went to the scan, family history being against me, as I suspected, and having taken 6 months to diagnose the damned thing, I felt sure that the scan would reveal the worst. I’ve never been so pleased to be proved wrong.
I also recall the fervent vow I made to myself to make the most of what I have. 5 years on (and at the time, 5 years seemed as if it might be my allotted span if I was lucky) I’m still here, and on a grumpy day need to remind myself of that vow. It’s all too easy to slip back into taking things – and people – for granted.
Random Thoughts 