Green and pleasant
So, here I am in England and the holiday is going really well. This is my first bit of uninterrupted time with a broadband connection (thanks to the lovely figsbury_ring) so it's obviously the occasion for an update post.
Shropshire was beautiful, green and damp and peaceful. It was good to spend two whole weeks with my parents, enjoying the countryside and the sheer lack of anything compelling to do. I did manage to buy a 'cello - a new Chinese model with an unexpectedly mellow yet powerful tone. It's been totally refitted to a pretty high standard and is both a pleasure to play and remarkably good value for the money - having been the rep's instrument it has a couple of minor cosmetic blemishes, so I got it for £200 less than usual - in effect, all the fit-up work thrown in for free. I'm now spending half my time pondering the life of a travelling 'cello salesperson and the other half trying not to worry about getting the instrument on the plane when it's time to head back East.
Other highlights of the Shropshire stay: unashamed Wimbledon fever and many happy hours spent gazing at Nadal's beautiful forearms; remembering how to drive on the left in a manual geared car; fighting off a scary (indoor) invasion of flying ants with only the trusty Dyson as back-up; enjoying the sight of a garden full of rabbits - I know they're a menace and eat all the best plants, but they are seriously cute; reading a great selection of whodunnits; sleeping for hours and hours and hours on a comfy bed with the window open and real fresh air circulating the room.
From Shropshire I headed down to Wiltshire for a long weekend with figsbury_ring - having first negotiated the horrible mess that is the UK's fragmented railway system, with its confusing array of advance ticket purchase options and alternative routes with different operators. Of all Thatcherism's legacies, surely the divvying up of the rail network must be one of the craziest. (I still fail to understand why it should be significantly cheaper to book part of the journey in advance then buy a ticket for the last leg on the train itself than to pre-book the whole lot, but there we are. At least I arrived at something like the stated time.)
The weekend has been an engaging mixture of healthy activity (long walks with a borrowed dog, trips up to West Kennet Long Barrow and along the Ridgeway, fresh produce from the garden) and indulgence (real ale, fried breakfasts and cream teas...) It's wonderful to spend time with figsbury_ring, the one friend from secondary school with whom I'm still in touch. To my great delight she produced a copy of 'Wait and See,' the fanzine we collaborated on all those years ago - there followed much hilarity as we read through its painful prose and attempts at cynical humour, and reminisced about the other harmless misfits in our little group. I don't think fifteen year olds have changed very much in the intervening years. Really, only the names of the bands are different.
On Sunday evening we ventured into Frome to see Order of the Pheonix in its barn-like, charmingly old fashioned cinema. The deeply uncomfortable seats and rather small screen are almost offset by the fact that there's a bar, with half decent beer available to take in to the cinema itself, and a little curtain by the screen that's drawn back during the intermission to reveal ice cream sellers. I enjoyed the film itself very much - I definitely like HP more the older and darker it gets - despite the fact that someone in the row behind me had removed their shoes to liberate the vomit-like odour of their feet to the world.
Today I head up to London (after an even more confusing bout of rail ticket buying yesterday, which I won't bore you with) for a few days at A's house before our jaunt to Switzerland. I have taken the plunge and booked a lengthy appointment with my favourite hairdresser on Thursday, so my first ever dabble with the idea of long flowing locks and hair accessories is nearly at an end. I can't wait. My mother kindly informed me that I look like an old witch with my hair down. I couldn't be annoyed with her, given that it's so obviously true. More to the point, after a year of hiding behind low maintenance, just tie it back and keep it out of the way stylelessness, the real me is about to emerge once more.
Shropshire was beautiful, green and damp and peaceful. It was good to spend two whole weeks with my parents, enjoying the countryside and the sheer lack of anything compelling to do. I did manage to buy a 'cello - a new Chinese model with an unexpectedly mellow yet powerful tone. It's been totally refitted to a pretty high standard and is both a pleasure to play and remarkably good value for the money - having been the rep's instrument it has a couple of minor cosmetic blemishes, so I got it for £200 less than usual - in effect, all the fit-up work thrown in for free. I'm now spending half my time pondering the life of a travelling 'cello salesperson and the other half trying not to worry about getting the instrument on the plane when it's time to head back East.
Other highlights of the Shropshire stay: unashamed Wimbledon fever and many happy hours spent gazing at Nadal's beautiful forearms; remembering how to drive on the left in a manual geared car; fighting off a scary (indoor) invasion of flying ants with only the trusty Dyson as back-up; enjoying the sight of a garden full of rabbits - I know they're a menace and eat all the best plants, but they are seriously cute; reading a great selection of whodunnits; sleeping for hours and hours and hours on a comfy bed with the window open and real fresh air circulating the room.
From Shropshire I headed down to Wiltshire for a long weekend with figsbury_ring - having first negotiated the horrible mess that is the UK's fragmented railway system, with its confusing array of advance ticket purchase options and alternative routes with different operators. Of all Thatcherism's legacies, surely the divvying up of the rail network must be one of the craziest. (I still fail to understand why it should be significantly cheaper to book part of the journey in advance then buy a ticket for the last leg on the train itself than to pre-book the whole lot, but there we are. At least I arrived at something like the stated time.)
The weekend has been an engaging mixture of healthy activity (long walks with a borrowed dog, trips up to West Kennet Long Barrow and along the Ridgeway, fresh produce from the garden) and indulgence (real ale, fried breakfasts and cream teas...) It's wonderful to spend time with figsbury_ring, the one friend from secondary school with whom I'm still in touch. To my great delight she produced a copy of 'Wait and See,' the fanzine we collaborated on all those years ago - there followed much hilarity as we read through its painful prose and attempts at cynical humour, and reminisced about the other harmless misfits in our little group. I don't think fifteen year olds have changed very much in the intervening years. Really, only the names of the bands are different.
On Sunday evening we ventured into Frome to see Order of the Pheonix in its barn-like, charmingly old fashioned cinema. The deeply uncomfortable seats and rather small screen are almost offset by the fact that there's a bar, with half decent beer available to take in to the cinema itself, and a little curtain by the screen that's drawn back during the intermission to reveal ice cream sellers. I enjoyed the film itself very much - I definitely like HP more the older and darker it gets - despite the fact that someone in the row behind me had removed their shoes to liberate the vomit-like odour of their feet to the world.
Today I head up to London (after an even more confusing bout of rail ticket buying yesterday, which I won't bore you with) for a few days at A's house before our jaunt to Switzerland. I have taken the plunge and booked a lengthy appointment with my favourite hairdresser on Thursday, so my first ever dabble with the idea of long flowing locks and hair accessories is nearly at an end. I can't wait. My mother kindly informed me that I look like an old witch with my hair down. I couldn't be annoyed with her, given that it's so obviously true. More to the point, after a year of hiding behind low maintenance, just tie it back and keep it out of the way stylelessness, the real me is about to emerge once more.