17th November 2013

This morning I went with D to Ashcroft Church. I am a member, but I don't always go because, late in life, I've discovered that I prefer going to the Quakers or, to give them their full title, the Religious Society of Friends. To many, the idea of sitting together in silence for an hour is a strange concept and/or extremely boring. But I don't find it so. 

To me, on one level that hour is therapeutic. No phone rings, no doorbell summons, no one asks me to do anything. It's me time. It's restful, relaxing. It allows my mind to free itself of daily noise. 

On a deeper level it allows me to 'listen' for answers. Quakers religious beliefs vary widely. Basically Christian, their interpretations of and relationship to biblical matters range widely. This freedom is refreshing. I was drawn to the Quakers for years, almost unconsciously. What helped me focus and actually step through the doors of a meeting house was a Quaker publicity poster declaring 'We don't tell you what to think'. I wish I'd crossed that threshold years ago. 

So, I like the Methodists. I like the Quakers. I attend both as time and circumstance allows, and I'm not going to choose one over the other in this blog. 

With most of the morning taken up with church matters, we decided to have lunch at the Brewery Arts Cafe, another favourite of ours. I had one of their 'doorstep' sandwiches for lunch. So tasty, and 'proper-job' doorsteps, huge size with extra salad local granary bread. Gorgeous!

Then W.H.Smiths made me an offer I couldn't refuse, a cunningly displayed mini e-reader for £29.99. Really? Thirty pounds? Yes sir, half-price but not for long. I succumbed, and am now the proud owner of a Kobo Mini E-Reader with five books on it so far. I am told it will hold a thousand. We'll see.

I spotted this intriguing window display on the way home. What a wacky legging for one-legged women, I thought.

16th November 2013

This morning we went to one of our favourite shopping destinations, the Organic Farm Shop. We get as much of our food there as fits our life style and limited budget. The quality of what we fuel our bodies with really matters to us, and this food is high quality. We know what's in it and, just as important, what's not in it. 

The other reason for visiting the farm is their delicious coffee and cake which, in the winter, is consumed by one of their lovely wood-burning stoves. If we want a real treat, we stay for lunch.

This afternoon I had intended to start clearing the heap of clutter on my side of the office. It didn't happen, again. I got distracted into starting to piece together some Christmas music for my weekly slot on Cirencester Hospital Radio. I share the time with my good friend Cliff. We share a love of music and both enjoy our radio stints. Once we start discussing music in the studio, it's so easy to forget that we're broadcasting. There's the ever-present danger of the record on air finishing and us forgetting to segué to the next, risking dead air, a radio sin. Hasn't happened yet, but the risk is there. What has happened is the record finishing and listeners being treated two old blokes rambling on about old record treasures they've found on second-hand stalls.

And so the day went by.

15th November 2013

This living on British Summer Time all the time is proving rather good. It's much more in synchronisation with the daylight. It really makes sense and I just cannot understand why this country keeps messing around with GMT and changing clocks. If we must change clocks, let's at least synchronise with our continental neighbours. Is there some perverse British cussedness that insists on the 'we're right and they're wrong' attitude even when they are obviously right and it's we who are clearly wrong? 

Hang on a moment. Just getting off my soapbox. 

That's better, now where was I? Oh yes, today ...

... Today, or rather this evening, D and I were invited, along with about fifty other people, to go to a lovely place near Gloucester called "Nature in Art". The clue is in the name, it is an art gallery devoted to pictures and sculptures of animals and birds. The occasion was the launch of a beautiful new book depicting and describing all the birds of Gloucestershire. We played a small part in gathering the information and raising the funds to create this beautiful volume and, as a result, not only got invited to the launch, but we're also presented with a free copy of this splendid, rather large, tome. It's called "The Birds of Gloucestershire" by Gordon Kirk and John Phillips. They thanked everyone for their support and signed our copies. About five years ago, when work started on the book, I was able to sponsor my favourite bird, the lapwing, so I'm proud to have my name in it. 

Hawfinches in the Forest of Dean by Terence Lambert

14th November 2014

One week of 'wubbish'! That's what this day's blog marks. Am I going to manage a second week? Only time will tell.

So, what have I got to offer today? Well, I went to the pictures/ took in a movie/ saw a film/ chilled out at a flick (Delete as appropriate:). I went to see 'Gravity'. Although I don't want to see it again, I really enjoyed seeing it once.

There are just two people in the cast, Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. Both play their parts extremely well. The story is simple and a little far fetched. I say a little because I remember the NASA Apollo 13 mission to the Moon. In Gravity two people hit a spot of space bother. The man dies but manages to help save the woman who, however, survives mainly through her own grit. I liked the fact that the woman played main role with the man buzzing round providing support, but did they really have to have her coming out of the water in a wet T shirt at the end? A cliché too far, perhaps. I also enjoyed the nods to the gênres greats, especially the one to 2001, 'I've got a bad feeling about this mission ... '.

Overall, it's great entertainment. The special effects are stunning and it's crying out to be shown in the IMAX format. And I hope I haven't given too much of the meager plot away, but then I don't think this is a film you'll want to see for the plot. The special effects steal the show. If you want plot, try Gorky Park, Nine Queens and hundreds of others.

The bus journey to the cinema in Cheltenham, up the Churn/ Thames valley was beautiful in the autumn sunshine. Rocking along on the bus made landscape photography just about impossible, but these recent photographs I took will give some idea of the views from the bus.

13th November 2013

We're trying to live by British Summer Time (BST) now. It is supposed to save money and be healthier. In other words, the idea is to leave our clocks on BST all year and not change them. I know it makes sense. We did it in this country for about three years back on the sixties, and I hoped we'd keep it. We didn't.

Of course, now we're doing it but the rest of the country isn't, so it really means that we just go to bed and get up an hour earlier. And all day we pretend that the rest of the world is out of step with us by an hour. It works quite well, and is better for our body clocks. What I like about it is that our waking time fits much better with natural daylight hours, a definite plus as far as I am concerned. We'll see how it goes on. 

I love a good crisp frost, and this morning we had the best one around here for a long time. 

This frost was on our car at breakfast time. They're always different, and seem to appear best on cars for some reason that I don't understand. I must look very suspicious as I walk down the road taking pictures of people's cars!

I get very annoyed by people who treat Big Issue sellers as street beggars, because they are certainly nothing of the sort. They are people trying to pick themselves up and build new lives for themselves. They are traders, buying and selling the Big Issue magazines, and as such well worth supporting. Most are very interesting people and rewarding to chat with. This week's 'Issue' has some particularly good articles in it, especially by it's founder John Bird. He's always worth a read.

As you probably know, I have a great urge to photograph everything around me. Usually I am behind the camera a real life is in front of it, but now, with iPhones et al it is so easy to turn the tables and take a picture of yourself taking a picture of yourself, if you follow me. Here's today's effort ...

Goodnight lovely readers. More tomorrow.

12th November 2013

Today the weather has been beautiful, crisp and autumnal. And I've been itching to take pictures all day. Here are two I did manage to grab around breakfast time.

They show the Abbey Grounds, a few steps from the town centre, a lovely area gifted to the town by the Chester-Master family many years ago. I love it and it is on part of our walk to town. There is another beautiful park in Cirencester, called Bathurst Park. More of this in later entries. 

My mother, well into her nineties now, lives around twenty miles away, and we visit her whenever we can. The drive, from the Cotswolds into the upper Thames Valley is beautiful, especially on days like today. And of course I took more pictures, this one near Quenington, Gloucestershire.

For years I've thought it mad that the UK insists on being out of step, time-wise, with neighbouring countries. Why do we do it? It's crazy. And it costs us money, real money. People think I'm daft for raising the subject, but today I found that I'm not alone.

You know it makes sense :-D

Today we heard that Sir John Tavener, composer, has died, aged sixty-nine. At my age, early seventies,  this is starting to get to me. The number of people who are dying younger than me is growing. It makes me realise, more strongly than ever, that I am living on borrowed time since my heart attack. So little time and so much to do. All I can do is take care, keep busy and await the call. It might seem odd, but having been close to death, I know that when it was close a resigned peace settled on me. Events were beyond my control. My life was no longer in my hands and I prepared to hand in my resignation. 

I saw beautiful colours. That much I remember.

11th November 2013

Armistice Day. The 11th day of the 11th month, and at 11a.m., ceasefire, thousands of people stand where they are and remain silent for two minutes in remembrance of those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom. 

That's why I wear poppies and why I respect this deeply solemn moment every year. I really value that freedom. And I very much appreciate the growing numbers of young people who do the same. Sadly, many of them are suffering too, having lost fathers and brothers, not forgetting sisters and mothers, in recent conflicts. War is terrible, and so often counter productive. We gain little but enemies so often these days. 

It's also been one of those days when I've lost far too much to a duff download on my computer. Not being technical by nature, I struggle when the 'wrong' things happen as I press my computer keys. Staring at the screen looking for clues doesn't help much, unfortunately. It's the language that beats me. I've found that everyone under twelve knows it from birth, which is where being born well before the age of computers puts me at a disadvantage. My one redeeming feature in this area is stubbornness. I just don't give up. Like a dog at a well gnawed bone I keep worrying at it. A tentative key press here, a slight file-drag there, and eventually my computer gives in and springs back to familiar life. That's when I turn it off and go to lie down in a darkened room, exhausted. Such was much of my day, and a lot of productive work just didn't get done. Remember, I am a mere man. I can't do multi-tasking.

What I did get done was to prepare my weekly programme for Cirencester Hospital Radio. There are actually two of us sharing the 7 'till 9 slot we've been given. Cliff does the first hour and I do the second, roughly speaking. If he can't make it I do a longer show to cover as much of his slot as possible, and vice versa. It's all voluntary and fun, and we usually share ten minutes or so on air changing seats. We're getting quite good at it now, but whether listeners would agree I really have no idea. In fact, we have no idea whether we actually have any listeners. We act as though we do, in order to improve our skills, but is there anybody out there? Who knows? 

Hospital radio audiences are, by their very nature, variable. Many patients aren't in hospital long enough to hear us; others more long term patients are possibly more ill and don't want to listen. Others might hear us once and then are discharged (and I'm not claiming that the two events are connected ). 

Whatever, however nicely we ask for notes and comments, we never get any. My own approach is the old Terry Wogan technique of imagining that I've got just one 'dear listener' out there, and I talk to them. They're great! I can play them jazz, comic, classic, romantic, blues, rock, they listen to it all, or not. I just don't know, but at least they haven't stormed the studio yet with pitchforks and burning torches. We've got away with it once again and lived to tell the tale. 

Now, next week a little light rock and roll I think ...