HS09

Thursday May 12,  2016

The day set out to perplex.  The weather forecast introduces a golden sun, while the rain drizzles down outside the window.  I put my trust in the window.  This is that time when the line from bed to kitchen windowsill is very strait.  Lined up along the sill are pot after pot of minuscule vegetable seedlings, corn and lettuce, parsley and various beans.  All have apparently slept well.  Seagulls are not vegetarians it seems.

The domestics out of the way I go back to painting the hall.  I am reaching the  “I wonder . . ?” stage.  I am painting wallpaper – hundreds of fish swimming round the wall.  Just how many fish can one invent without going insane . . .   hundreds it seems.  I paint away.

Time to get going.  This is an outing day, see Sussex by the Sea.  Driving to Glynde the rain got the BBC's message and shamefacedly let the sun out. The drive is one of those how many large continental lorries can you cram onto a glorified country lane without the whole thing clogging up.  Not many it seems.  The clog ups won a few times.  It is wonderful how one leaves these “main” roads and in a few seconds is in the  tranquil rural peace any reader of  Sunday supplements knows to be under dire threat of bungalowitis.   Appropriately Glynde has the great distinction of being the first village to be inoculated en mas at the command of the Lord of the Manor (My Lord Trevor the umpteenth)  against anything  (it was cholera then).  One hopes his descendant and heir has the bungalow serum ready for the approach of the first developers.

Another delightful oddity, also the doing of some long gone Lord of the Manor          (actually also the Bishop of Durham, some commute for the 1740's) is as you might expect the Church.   The age of reason didn't think much of prehistoric Norman gloom so tore it down and put up a new church inspired by his Lordship's time in Italy, all the sun and light of the sweet reason of Palladio and his perfectly reasonable architectural symmetry.  However Sussex is not to be out done by some reasonable Italian.  Next door the collapsed cow barn defies any symmetry or reason.

So back to the pub for Lunch - the Trevor Arms.  You can't get away from these Trevors. The inoculating Lord Bishop with his reasonable church was another of them.  The unique feature of an otherwise reasonably predictable country pub is a gigantic bass tuba hanging over the Public Bar.  Exactly why the publican couldn't explain.  By now the sun was the outright winner so lunch in the garden.  The garden is a long strip of grass neatly dividing the pub from the Railway Station.  Lunch is punctuated by the station speaker  “Stand back from the edge of the platform, the train approaching does not stop at this station”.  After a few of these non-stoppers one began to wonder just why there was a station at all.   When finally a train did stop nobody got on or off which may explain things.

The road home, such an emotive phrase, passes many places and among them a farm that has set up a splendid “Come and buy me, Come and buy” operation slap on the aforementioned 'main' road.  A pull off was called for if only to congratulate myself on not falling for the marketing wiles of “ye Olde Countrie fayre”.  I fell.  A large flat of celeriac seedlings.  Not too much guilt attaches to that – blame Sainsburys for not selling them! 

And so back. The obligatory cup of tea and so to 'work'.  Work at present is inventing a hallucinatory ghost of 'The Great War' for instruments and chorus.  The prospects of my getting this Pandoras box open before the authorities decide it is time for the next World War are remote.  Never mind, I am having a splendid time reliving an era of absurd lost ideals veiled in blood and mud.  As Thomas Pynchon put it - “In this latest war, death was no enemy, but a collabrator”.  A truth echoed on a thousand pious memorials in churchyards and public places across the land.

With not enough done the day quietly dissolves into a complex mix of sunset colours and rain greys out to sea and I settle into an evening of old Poulenc again and so a good long read in the vitally alive world of Thomas Pincheon – the last author to lull one into never never land.

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Hastings Diary Day 12 May 2016 TEMPLATE

Sharing our stories and making connections…

Write whatever comes to mind, hour by hour, a reflection or something that stands out. It’s up to you. Photos and drawings welcome.

I have a lie in and the cats aren’t pleased. S comes and nuzzles my right side while A snucks his head into my left hand to be stroked. I dose in and out of sleep while radio 4 continues unlistened, Mervyn Bragg and Titus Oates, Brexit saga, and a woman I have never heard of walking into the sea at St Leonards to die. This wakes me up. The sea hasn’t been rough, the waves not that high and why St Leonards? Almost guiltily I am relieved it wasn’t described as Hastings or this would be another chance for the media to blame Jeremy Corbyn for the existence of a left wing labour council…

I let the cats out as usual, take out the frozen fish for their breakfast as usual, drink my glass of water and get the stewed rhubarb and soya yoghurt as usual but for a change have grape nuts rather than homemade muesli and seeds. I eat my breakfast while the fish cooks and open the laptop as usual. I listen to Chris Packham’s fascinating account of his mental state but turn over to radio 3 as Woman’s Hour is doing diaries again and yesterday’s segment was banal. I start writing this partly because I committed myself to do this but inevitably to avoid doing something else. I need to finish writing a talk for Saturday that I have put off although I know the content and I have also put off finishing some copy editing and also sending an article to HOTI…

The article got sent to HOTI before I went out to a meeting at The Bridge. I have never been inside before. What a lovely place and with allotments and a café. I asked whether they had soya milk – I’m a vegan -  since if they didn’t I would have had herbal tea. I was pleasantly surprised when they said yes – something the new trendy bistro did not have on the Hastings pier on the second day of opening. Why aren’t more people using The Bridge?

By the time the meeting was finished and I was walking back it was nearly 3 and the streets were jammed with cars and obese young women – the two are related – waiting to collect children from primary school. Why won’t they walk? The distance won’t be far and it would be much more healthy and better for them in the long run since we no longer have anything that might be called a National Health Service, at least in Hastings. 

Back to let the cats in.  I don’t normally leave them out if I am out but the day was sunny and I wasn’t gone long. Two rush in and I give them some biscuits but T is wandering somewhere. I slice an aubergine, sprinkle with salt  and leave in a colander for the bitter juice to come out so I can later make an aubergine and lentil bake for my dinner. I make a salad with lettuce,cucumber, radish, beetroot, tomatoes and humus and a couple of oatcakes. I have gone back into oatcakes in a big way since my BMI is slightly above normal – although I do lots of exercise – and I want to lose a couple of kilos before I resort to the 800 calories diet I read about in the Guardian. I do not want to get diabetes - such a debilitating disease. The glycaemic loading for oatcakes is good and certainly much better than bread.

I sit outside the back door as it is warm enough, typing and watching one cat fascinated by the route of a fly which no doubt he will eventually kill and eat. The solomon’s  seal has just started to come up again after the winter. I love these plants even though the white droplet flowers only last a couple of May weeks . They always look as if they have gone for good but inevitably emerge – these particular plants have travelled with me from my last 2 addresses and have survived, like their owner.

T appears miaowing for food – has biscuits but then the others want some more and I give in to prevent S bullying T out of his rations. Catch up on emails. YouGov survey which of course I do. Why in heavens name do they always ask me about costa coffee from a machine in a petrol station? I am never going to drink that muck. But, I surmise, if I don’t answer this sort of rubbish then they won’t sending me the interesting political stuff.  Having had a cup of after-lunch -tea and not being able to find any more avoidance strategies it’s back to finishing the talk. 

Yeah but not before doing some weeding and watching the cats decide what is the best place to sit. A for some reason chooses to sit on the pebbles while T and S go for the bench in the pergola: oddly all seem to have followed me up there even though they never get fed in the garden!

Finally I get round to drafting the talk for Saturday but only have 1,500 words (rather than around 3,500 for 20 minutes) and it isn’t very good. I give up and go out to my regular power hoop class. Because the weather is good we are meeting in Alexandra Park (as we did last week.) This week the yoga group is absent but the circuit trainers in group identifying blue T shirts are there and a couple of young men working on a “slack rope” fixed between two trees. I notice that they have put jumpers underneath the straps on the tree to prevent damage and watch while they jump on and balance to launch themselves off again. A bit more advanced than power hoop. There are lots of people of various ages and dogs around . A couple of young women have a picnic with their children. A girl of about 8 plays football on her own. A couple of men play guitars. Various dogs jump around. Noone – absolutely no one at all  - yells out sexist abuse or gesticulates aggressively. No “status” dogs are directed towards us. After we finish I go and speak to the young men on the slack rope about what they are doing – one says he only got it today and they offer to give me a go. I decline but am touched by their gesture. All of this is so different to my experience in my local former London park where I stopped going as routinely it involved ringing the police or the RSPCA about anti social behaviour. Presumably that does happen in the Park but to date I have never seen it and it always seems a very safe space and I do walk here on my own. (And go to the always clean and well maintained toilets and to the caff with vegan options.)

On the way home I pop into Morrisons – not my favourite but it is near the park –to buy a bottle of wine and chance upon some little fuschias which I buy including one improbably named after Winston Churchill! 

When home I decide to cook first of all – or all the wine will get drunk and no dinner. The aubergine is now rinsed and shoved into soya flour which I should apparently have used 2 months ago. If I die in the night it is no doubt because of the out of date soya… I then cook those and separately a sauce with onions, garlic, mushrooms, red lentils, tinned tomatoes,herbs and spices and bits of lemon and a glass or two of white wine. I let the cats out as it is still light and warm. I turn on radio 3 and it is my favourite Beethoven symphony, no 7 , with the sad second movement. Must check if it is in my funeral suggestions around favourite music – it always cheers me up in an odd sort of way.

I ring R but it goes to answerphone. He rang earlier and I missed it. I hope he is OK as a full time carer abandoned by his selfish siblings, social services and the vestiges of the NHS. His mother should have died by now the state seems to be saying and they cannot be bothered wasting more resources on an elderly woman – though they seem to be able to do that for the queen and her racist husband.

I am now writing this while the aubergine and lentil bake bakes away in the oven and before I get back to re-writing my talk which I totally revised in the park in my head while doing Powerhoop. 

Cats have been enticed back in with Sainsbury’s dental bites (cheaper than whiskas same product) and I lock the back door for the night. T goes into the carrier for his treats – I have been trying to train them to associate the carrier (and thence visits to the vet) as positive experiences. While the aubergine bake continues to bake R rings and we talk about his mum and her failing health and the article Joan Smith wrote in the Guardian about the awful (and very typical) treatment of her mother by the NHS. The petition against the appalling bias of Kuenssberg has been withdrawn by 38 degrees as apparently some people were being sexist. Not that the BBC would have taken any notice. 

Finally at around 11 I get to eat my dinner and have another glass of wine. By now there is a version of a Janis Joplin track on radio 3 which is good.

Shortly I will be going to bed – where I suspect the cats are already asleep and I will read my book, write down the exercise I have done today and the number of glasses of water I have drunk and then write my OWN diary. I do this every day and it will be very very different to this one off version…

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Hastings Diary Day 12 May 2016 TEMPLATE

Sharing our stories and making connections…

Write whatever comes to mind, hour by hour, a reflection or something that stands out. It’s up to you. Photos and drawings welcome.

The morning cloud was replaced by afternoon sun so where better to go than the newly refurbished Hastings pier.

 So there we sat, supping ginger beer, shades of the Famous Five, enjoying the view.There is something very special about being out over the sea and looking back at a familiar coastline.

We were not the only ones to be enjoying the weather and venue, there was chatter all around. Those on their own were on their phones or iPads. A Victorian concept enjoyed still in the 21st century.

 I've heard that some have called it ' the plank ' in a somewhat derogatory fashion  but it suits it well and could  end up being used in a very fond fashion. "I'm walking the plank today, would you care to join me?" "Let's walk the plank ladies.."

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Hastings Diary Day 12 May 2016 TEMPLATE

Sharing our stories and making connections…

Had morning coffee with mum before returning to the office. We sat out and watched the wet mist transform into a beautiful yellow glow.

At 88 mum is facing what is likely to be her last house move. She is shocked at the solicitor’s and estate agents fees and asked if I could make sense of them. Every nonsensical action itemised. She wants me to tell her she is either being ripped off or not ripped off; I am not sure which answer will satisfy her at this moment. I do neither, I tell her she needs to ask her agent to explain everything to her.

I am wracked by a terrible sadness as I drive away. How people’s situations change so drastically; one minute holidays abroad, a partner to enjoy ones old age with, and then alone and confused, at the mercy of adult children. What more to look forward to?

At the office the young ones are talking about diets again. If they used the time they took talking about diets to go for some exercise they wouldn’t need to be dieting in the first place.

I have lunch on our lovely new pier. It has turned out to be a gloriously hot day and the pier   provides a warm breeze. I love the space and the clean wooden planks. Today they are preparing for the first outdoor film screening - perfect weather for it.

Eat lunch at the new cafe/restaurant. Sitting at a table near the pier edge I remember coming to the same spot when the Gritti Palace was here, several years before the pier burnt down, to watch England play in the world cup. They had an old fashioned television outside with a sofa and even a standard lamp with a tasselled shade, like a front room from my childhood. I sat myself down with a strong dutch beer and watched the match along with a handful of likeminded strangers. And as the sun went down over the west of the pier we all cheered in unison when England scored.

I love the new pier but I miss that whacky Gritti Palace. 

Watch the seagulls perched above the cafe roof as they watch me eat my egg sandwiches. I’m onto them! I know how they work in pairs, one to distract while the other steals your food. I don’t take my eyes off them and then become paranoid that they are both the decoys and the real muggers will swoop down from behind. I ask the nice lad cleaning tables if they ever get a problem with seagulls and he replies not as yet, they seem well behaved, that he thinks we are not eating the sorts of things seagulls like. I remind him that they mess our town up every week breaking into bins to gorge on human detritus. We both agree it is our fault, the Brits, who don’t know how to effectively seal our rubbish, clear our al fresco tables, stop people feeding them!

A black labrador plays with the waves below while its owner sits on the sea defences reading. He swims in circles and appears to be trying to catch something, or jumping the waves like we did as children. He reminds me of my old dog, long dead. We always had Labs, always getting sprayed by the big shake they make as they stroll up close after emerging from a smelly stagnant pond. One day my Lab demonstrated his Canadian fishing dog heritage by jumping into Alexander Park duck pond and coming out with a fish in his mouth, which he promptly swallowed. Then he jumped in again and came out with another fish - gulp! It was like being in the middle of a disney cartoon. 

I catch the indoor fish market just before closing. The fish are put away but they find me a mackerel -  head off, gutted and in the bag. I clutch my fish bag close, survey the territory and manoeuvre my way cautiously back to the office. I know those seagulls are still watching me. 

Diary HS05

Hastings Diary Day 12 May 2016 TEMPLATE

Sharing our stories and making connections…

Write whatever comes to mind, hour by hour, a reflection or something that stands out. It’s up to you. Photos and drawings welcome.

Worked in Eastbourne yesterday, Thursday 12 the May, doing drop in creative stuff.

Worked mostly on music.

In the morning 2 year 4 girls worked on a song. They had both hurt their feet. One of them talked about how she liked making up songs all the time. She said some things about life at home not being much fun at all the moment. She made up a little song with me called 'Alone in Space'. I liked a line she made up about how she was boss when she's alone in space. I guess she meant when she's alone and away from everyone else she's the boss of herself...perhaps. She came up with some lovely images of looking down at the world in the distance below her feet.

We tried to sing it but she couldn't get through the first line without giggling nervously. Her friend worked on a picture about the song...she drew all the planets in the solar system in tidy rows around the edge of the picture with a space in the middle for the words to the song to go.

Eventually got them singing very delicately. It's a really gentle and subtle song. I played guitar...some very dreamy chords I found in G tuning.

We recorded it on my ipad. Recording them focussed them on singing and they stopped giggling and sang beautifully. We performed it to their class at the end of the day. I think they really enjoyed it and sang out proudly!

Before that, at lunch, we did Room 13 'choir'. Choir is no longer really choir. No one sings anymore- it's basically morphed into a freestyle improvisation group of the core kids who are really interested. There's about 10 kids now. They have progressed so much with their musical sensitivity... from doing just half an hour each week for about a year. We made a democratic choice to stop learning songs but to go improvisational pieces each time. At the moment we follow a pattern where one child starts a simple repeated phrase on glockenspiel of four notes maximum. Everyone listens really carefully and comes in one by one on different instruments. It worked beautifully today. The bit I loved most was Madison answering Heather's phrase on the big mellow glockenspiel with a tinkly high phrase on the high cheapo glockenspiel. We made this really mellow, gentle piece of music...I think we all went into a bit of a dream. I did some noodly solo stuff in G tuning over the top.

After lunch I was so tired I could barely do it. I sat in one place all afternoon while the children created their things...there were 8 kids in the afternoon. I felt like if I closed my eyes for 5 seconds I'd fall asleep. Luckily they all got on really well. They did lots of making with collage and drawing until we drifted into doing some music. I was so tired I bypassed the felt side of my mind completely, I reckon. Went into this dischordant noise that made perfect sense in my tired state.

 On the way home I stopped for 5 mins to avoid falling asleep at the wheel. Had a prawn sandwich and perked up. Listened to 'See You On The other Side' by Mercury Rev all the way home. This is the best album in the world- an atmosphere of some silvery otherplace with wonky brass all over it and massive waves of inspirational sound I get lost in.

In the back of my mind I had been looking forward to doing some plastering on our house all day long. I loved working out how best to get this messed up bit of wall in our house looking good again. Used that special plasterers tape for the first time and attached one of those metal corner things before plastering until 11:30.

Sadly not much of a family day- saw them briefly before S and R went to the theatre. I guess I didn't say much to F 'cus I was so involved in my lovely plastering. Enjoyed having a 'play' fight with him though. When I say 'play'- he tries really hard to do some damage. Proper hard punching and biting. A violent 9 year old beast of pure aggression and power.

Had an exhausted chat with S at bed time...completely in fantasy world. S's face lit up with laughter about something Bobby and Lola said...I can't think what now. Something about their honeymoon I think.