Some things seem to never change

There was an interview on the BBC web site today with Tom Hooper who has just directed a new film of Les Miserables and I got to this part and thought "Oh no. We are over a decade into the 21st Century and this is still seen as shocking / remarkable territory:

A lot of people have said they cried watching that scene.

We could it put on the poster: "You will cry ugly tears".
I've seen it fell really tough people. There's an executive at Universal, and he's an ex-marine, and he was weeping when he saw the film. I love that it has that effect.

Was that your goal?Yeah, that was the intention. Make grown men cry.

Here's to the day that such sentiments would sound as absurd as "Yeah, that was the intention. Make grown women cry." It can't come too soon ...


And some men who couldn't possible be marines (ex or otherwise):

And I think it's safe to say that at this stage of the game, as a species we've inflicted enough pain, destruction and death on ourselves, other species and our home planet that any emotionally aware human would weep.

'Modern' life

I read "Sons and Lovers" by D H Lawrence at school as a teenager and loved it. It seemed profound and beautifully written even though, given the nature of its themes rather outside the realm of my experience, I didn't understand some of its deeper currents.

Recently I decided to take "Lady Chatterly's Lover" down off my bookshelf and read it for the first time. It's not much of a secret that Lawrence was not overly keen on the increasing mechanisation of society but I found a segment that I read today that, though written in 1928, seemed prescient for our way of life today, so here it is:

Forty years had made a difference in the neighbourhood. The iron and coal had eaten deep into the bodies and souls of the men.

Incarnate ugliness, and yet alive! What would become of them all? Perhaps with the passing of the coal they would disappear again, off the face of the earth. They had appeared out of nowhere in their thousands, when the coal had called for them. Perhaps they were only weird fauna of the coal-seams. Creatures of another reality, they were elementals, serving the elements of coal, as the metal-workers were elementals, serving the element of iron. Men not men, but animas of coal and iron and clay. Fauna of the elements, carbon, iron, silicon: elementals. They had perhaps some of the weird, inhuman beauty of minerals, the lustre of coal, the weight and blueness and resistance of iron, the transparency of glass. Elemental creatures, weird and distorted, of the mineral world! They belonged the coal, the iron, the clay, as fish belong to the sea and worms to dead wood. The anima of material disintegration!

What will become of miners, and oil and gas workers when we can no longer burn fossil fuels because the idiocy of us destroying our own liveable environment for comfort will be seen for what it is? They will be no more necessary to life for most of us than a farrier would be today. Our fossil fuel burning extravaganza is so woven into our lives that it seems impossible that it will not always be there, but it must have seemed too that horses would always fill our streets, that most people would work on the land and that blacksmiths would have plenty of work to do, yet they have been cast aside by the reshaping power of black gold. But its time too is passing and I believe that the wheel will turn again to activities more human-scale and what seemed history may well become our future.

'Normal' postings may be resumed soon. Or not.

Cake competition

This post is stupidly overdue, but that seems to be the way with me. I'll try to improve ...

Anyway, it was my first Goldhanger Gala Weekend at over the 8/9th of September weekend and there were a number of competitions one of which was "cake to a given recipe". I love cooking so I thought I'd enter into the spirit.

It was "Crunchy topped lemon cake", though on the recipe printed in the parish magazine 'Crunchy' had lost its 'n' ...

So, I made the cake which was only the 3rd I've ever made. Number 1 was a disaster and put me off for many, many years. The 2nd was earlier this year and was a Delia recipe which was a definite success so I thought this one might turn out OK.

I made it on the Friday because I knew there would be no time on the Saturday (can't remember why) even though I had to enter it on the Sunday. Anyway, on a beautifully sunny Sunday morning I took my cake on its slate base to the tent in the churchyard and placed it beside the other entries. I have to say, I thought mine looked very nice.

I went back at 4:30pm or so after the judging and was greeted with a "Ta Ra" by about four or five women in the tent and walking over to the cake ... well, what did I see?

On the reverse of the left paper it said something like "Excellent texture and flavour. Well done". The original paper is somewhere in the bottom of a full box of papers that I'm too lazy to search.

I burst out laughing I think and then grinned stupidly. Another woman who had entered every cake competition (this was one of three) had won the other two ... but not this one. I had! So far I'm still alive but I keep an eye over my shoulder.

One of the women in the tent warned me that next year the WI would be visiting when they needed 500 scones ...

Here is a photo of it as the judge first saw it before we tucked in:

I must admit, it was lovely to look at and very tasty indeed. I made a second one for my Mum as she wasn't there to try the 'original' but that didn't look as nice (it had a slightly raised centre) but, paradoxically, hadn't risen as well so it was a bit heavily textured.

Anyway, I was dead chuffed as was Chris and everyone else it seems and intend to be back next year.

Christmas is coming ...

Well, 2012 sets a new marker in forward planning!

On the 26th of June, Chris and I visited my Mum and took her out to Silvermere for lunch. There in the bar were the invitation brochures encouraging us to book for Christmas and New Year meals and entertainment. As Mum observed, "But the children haven't even broken up for summer holidays yet".

Further comment is superfluous.

Plenty of light ...

On the 3rd of March Chris and I visited the "Genius of Illumination" exhibition at the British Library. Neither of us had ever been to the BL before so that was a treat too. Not too much though as we spent the entire visit in a dark underground room so we didn't really see the library at all! Ah well, next time ...

The exhibition was quite extraordinary, containing as it did illuminated books some of which were over 1300 (I think) years old. In the foyer before the exhibition proper, there was an explanation of how it was done for a newbie like me. Chris was in his element and very excited as he is a talented calligrapher himself and has his own web site devoted to the subject. The books ranged in size from pocket size to those where a small trolley might have been quite handy. Apart from their beauty - the richness of the colours, the detail of the text and the sparkle of leaf gold - there was the history of these items. The psalter of King Henry VIII, the edges of the pages grubbed by his fingers and the same, though smaller in size, of that of Queen Elizabeth I. Here are documents which physically connect us with world famous figures from our nation's history (and our ink-smudged school exercise books) who handled them over 400 years ago. Amazing. A shame we couldn't get to smell them too but they were out of nose reach in carefully lit glass prisons.

Other documents I loved too for their quirkiness were some maps. They were nothing like maps today but almost like printed sat-nav directions (if I may say that) in that they were very long but only a few inches wide and only showed your starting point (perhaps London) and then, via a succession of illustrated towns and landmarks, your destination, say Padua. They did not show what was around London or Padua or your route, only what you would need to find to continue to the next stage of your journey. They made me smile.

We had planned to complete our exhibition visit with tea and cake but suddenly a voice over loudspeakers announced "Ladies and gentlemen - the exhibition will be closing in 15 minutes.". Which meant that the cafe had either closed or was about to and we realised that apart from a 5 minute rest we had been on our feet for four and a half hours in this set of linked, darkened subterranean rooms and not noticed the time. Obviously, we had enjoyed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

As a complete contrast, we arrived in Devon on the 22nd of the month to spend five days camping but we exchanged darkened underground rooms in our capital city for the wildness, open air and brilliant sunlit illumination of the Dartmoor National Park at the start of what proved to be the warmest March weather for years. (Not a patch on the scary weather in the USA though I have to say!)

It was our first 'proper' holiday together since we met, so to be camping in such a stunning landscape was a real thrill for both of us. Here's a smiling Chris bringing tent-brewed morning tea on our first morning there and yes, that is an electric kettle ... but we did have a portable gas stove too.

Over our five days we walked across the moors to stone circles, visited Castle Drogo (joining the National Trust in the process), attended a commitment ceremony for friends at Haldon Belvedere (quite a place as you can see below):

We also consumed great beer and food (including the best mashed potato in my life and wicked home-made chilli chip sauce!) in the amazing Drewe Arms where the previous landlady Mabel Mudge had run it for 75 years when she retired aged 99!! We visited the chocolate box pretty village of Lustleigh to enjoy refreshment at the Primrose Tea Rooms. It is run by a mother and daughter and the mother loved my nice fountain pen, calligraphy and proper writing and so she and Chris had a good chat and she brought down a book for him on a stone carver with a fab garden who lived in Scotland. Such a lovely couple and a lovely place with gorgeous coffee and cakes into the bargain.

Not only all this, but somehow, despite never having gone near a sip or sniff of gin since I got horrendously drunk on Gordon's Gin with my best mate Ralph around the age of 15 or so (so utterly embarrassing when my Dad had to come and rescue me and put me to bed) I reacquainted myself with it. Chris wanted to get some Gin and we went into a great wine shop in lovely Chagford and the proprietor recommended The Botanist, which is, very improbably, from the Isle of Islay in Scotland! He also suggested that we skip tonic water from Schhh ... you know who, and get something appropriate to the quality of the gin, namely Fever Tree tonic. So, armed with these Chris mixed a gin and tonic back at the tent. Well, I was shocked. The gin itself had scents vaguely similar to gin I knew but the taste, aroma and even texture in my mouth were from another planet (or perhaps, just Scotland!). Stunning. We agreed that we could probably drink it neat! The tonic was wonderful - all natural and no Aspartame (which even if there's nothing in the bad press still tastes synthetic and disgusting) or other junk. The purity of the tonic matched the purity and scent of the gin. We were both amazed and I just kept going wow! wow! I couldn't, and still can't, believe that I've now seriously got into gin after a gap of 38 years since it last passed my lips... [As they say, I have no connection with either company but I like to mention something that's unusual, brilliant and enhances the sensual pleasures of life and if that is gin and tonic then so be it!]

Chris and I both love the outdoors and especially wild, rugged and unspoilt places and Dartmoor is a fine example. We had an exhilarating time and there's still so much more to explore and so many times of the year to visit. I'm looking forward to showing Chris the delights of the Highlands of Scotland. I can't wait!