The House Husband

In the 1820s, Mrs Henry Keary went for a walk. She wandered up a ‘shabby little bye road‘ and mounted a stile which gave her access to a deer park. It was a big, up and over stile. She was so impressed, she wrote about it in her diary as soon as she returned home. This is the first known written record of this particular stile and it’s in Farnham Park. Mrs K went on to say it was in a pretty sad state.

After the installation of a turnstile in 1881, following the purchase of a bit more land, rather than removing the stile, for some reason, it was retained. Subsequently, it has gradually rotted away over the years. The deer park also changed. The resident deer herd was removed and access to the park was changed, making the stile redundant. But no-one took the stile away. It stood like an old but slightly sad reminder of a bygone age when such things were necessary.

This is what it looked like in May 2011 when they upgraded the path

The only times the stile seems to get used are when it snows and the wood is less slippery than the path and when kids just feel the strange urge to climb steps rather than walk up a slope. Though, to be fair, I have heard many a parent warning their kids off it because it ‘looks dangerous.’

Why am I talking about this? Well, a couple of weeks ago, it vanished and was replaced by a big empty space. I’m not sure why but I felt a great loss. Apart from anything else, I hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to what has been a permanent part of the park.

It was then, as I stood in silent mourning, that I spotted an announcement declaring the stiles fate. It had become far too decrepit and so had to be removed. Given it served no useful purpose, this seemed fine. But that was not to be the end of the story for our stile. The notice went on to inform the idle reader that a brand new oak stile would be put in its place.

This brand new oak stile was put up yesterday and I saw it this morning. I have to say, it looks very different and, once the notice has been taken down, will be quite odd for anyone who doesn’t know why it’s there at all.

Wonder how long before it gets dirty...

I’m not going to rant on about my wrist today except to say it’s quite swollen and looks like a rubber washing up glove that has had air pumped into it then been tied off like a balloon.

Last night I had an email from Bev – actually it was to both Dawn and me – saying she was coming to Farnham today for work and did we want to meet for coffee. Naturally I said yes straight away. Apart from the fact that I haven’t seen Bev for ages, it’s rare I get to meet someone in Farnham!

Bev is a buildings archaeologist. To give her her full title, she is a Conservation and Community Officer at the Council for British Archaeology. With just a look she can tell you when a building was built, who by and what they were wearing. She’s very good at what she does. Well, I think so.

She was in Farnham with a colleague, Susan, to determine what parts of a supposedly Georgian building are actually Georgian in order to allow or reject a planning application. The plan is a new restaurant which, if it goes ahead, could be very exciting for Mirinda and me. I can’t really be any more specific in case it jeopardises the application.

And so I went into town later than usual in order to meet them at 10:30. My phone rang as I started along the Borough. It was Bev. She’d popped out to move her car and had become hopelessly lost. I’m afraid the Farnham one-way system will do that.

She told me where she was – about 50 yards from me – and soon appeared at the kerb. I jumped in and directed her to a car park, as she told me about her long, lost multiple trips around the town. We then walked back to the building they were working in.

I was immediately put to work, holding the ranging pole as Bev wandered around taking photographs and filling in the appropriate forms. I was shown the restaurant plans (getting rather excited) and all the original information they’d gathered. It was all very interesting and we had great fun positing the proper governance of the skirting boards (among other things).

Here she is setting the camera up to get a shot of the windows:

Bev setting the camera

We popped up to Starbucks for a coffee and Bev thought it was quite funny that not only did I have a Starbucks card but also that they knew my order. I smiled with the knowledge that this merely indicates that we were in ‘my’ town.

I left them to it after a while and went shopping. It made for a lovely morning and took my mind off my wrist for a bit.

Tonight I had my first shower for two weeks thanks to the wonderful Limbo cast protector. Of course, I could have used a plastic bag like some people have suggested but it’s important to remember that I forget things quite easily. For instance, half way through this post I will have forgotten I have a cast on and try and lift my hand to help with the typing. I know this for certain because it happens every night.

I am, therefore, concerned that I’ll forget halfway through a shower and somehow fill the plastic bag with water. Then I’ll have to be taken back to the hospital to start all over again. Seriously? I don’t want to run the risk.

However, with the Limbo bag, there is no risk! I can forget and it doesn’t matter. I’m protected. A fantastic investment. And to say I enjoyed the shower like no other shower I have ever had would be an understatement.

Anyway, my whole day wasn’t just a shower. We also went into Farnham to the shops. I can’t remember the last time we both went to Starbucks together. It was a rare treat – though not so in Waitrose. Given that it was lunchtime on a Saturday meant it was pretty crowded with weekend shoppers who, like Mirinda, have no idea how to shop properly.

Still…it was a lovely day. We had a latte together and, after shopping, Mirinda popped into Laura Ashley…actually she did more than ‘pop in’. If anything I popped in, saw where I was and quickly popped out again, happy to wait outside. This was my view:

The Lion & Lamb Yard on a glorious Saturday morning

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I am trying out a new piece of web photo album software called jAlbum. I’ve uploaded some photos from our recent day at Loseley. Let me know what you think. If I decide to use it I’ll purchase it and the annoying ads and hints will go away! View the new album here.

If computing ever feels in need of a patron saint, my money would be on Ada Lovelace. This remarkable woman only lived to the age of 36 but achieved so much. I’ve posted about her before so I won’t bore you with nowt but a picture:

Ada Lovelace

I was alerted by someone on Twitter today that was Ada Lovelace Day, however, searching back through my posts, I find that I last celebrated it on March 25, 2010. According to an entry on Wikipedia, it changed in 2011 to October 7. No reason was given.

The weather has turned decidedly cold. After last Saturday being the hottest October day on record (most of which I spent at Frimley Park hospital) this week things have returned to normal for the time of year. So, at night, it’s cold. I put the heaters on because Mirinda came home tonight.

Today, on my trip into Farnham, two people noticed my arm and asked about it. They were both women. Given the guys didn’t say anything yesterday, I think they’re all reverting to (stereo)type.

I chatted to my friend at Waitrose but she hasn’t yet heard about the job she applied for which, she reckons, is a good thing. You could tell she was excited though because she doesn’t normally smile.

After her initial comforting suffering due to my wrist and my normal glass-half-full way of deflecting it, she almost forgot about my pain with the eager anticipation of her possible new employment prospect. I’m glad because I really hate a fuss being made. It cheered me no end that she was actually happy when she’s usually as miserable as sin.

After a (tiny) bit of digging, I have discovered why Ada Lovelace Day has moved to October. If interested, you can read why here.

I had another FATN recording today. I covered for another presenter who couldn’t do it, otherwise I wouldn’t generally have them two weeks in a row. It was the Alton one again, worst luck. Still, it was (sort of) fun.

The readers before us consisted of one of my readers from last week who told me that his wife, on hearing me read last week commented that I could make anything sounds interesting. I know I love making people laugh and my shallow nature dictates that this is more than enough…this really made my day. I’m not sure which section she was listening to (either the What’s On or Sport, I imagine) but, whichever, it was a wonderful compliment.

Judge for yourselves: here are the two tracks from last week.

What’s On
Sport

The problem with my session, slight though it was, happened for one of two reasons. Either I did something wrong or one of my readers did. Naturally I took the blame but I’m not so sure. The facts of the matter are these:

When presenters prepare the newspaper, they have two copies. The first one has all the odd pages marked ‘O’ in the top right hand corner and the second copy has the even pages marked ‘E’. The papers are then cut in half and stacked so only marked pages are uppermost. This is to prevent stories being repeated and/or missed in a particular edition.

The Alton paper, unusually, has two papers and so the whole thing needs to be done twice. Annoyingly, a lot of the same news stories appear in both papers. But, as long as you’re aware of it, it’s not that big a problem.

Anyway, last week, I managed to get into a big mess with the odds and evens and had to call on my reserve copy (which we get just for such accidents) and so this week, I was extra careful. I went through the piles of stories a few times, just to make sure there wasn’t any duplicates.

Halfway through editing, two of the readers spotted identical stories in their piles. We then had to go through all the stories and filter out these doubles. It wasn’t a huge problem and we sorted it all out without much to do. Except I think the two readers figured I was a moron for getting it wrong.

However, I’m not so sure it was me because if a reader turns a page over, the flip side of the page will have the identical stories of another reader. For this reason it is drummed into us NOT to turn the pages over. And this is what I think happened.

Not to worry, though. We went into the studio and read and all was fine.

Something I read about reading the newspaper is how it is important to make sound as if you are talking to someone you know. Make it sound personal; as if they are sitting in front of you. I think this is excellent advice and I try and do it each week. It’s annoying how the stories still sound read to me but I think I’m getting better. Anyway, it’s still great fun and I’d miss it if I didn’t do it.

I was a tad early for the recording so I stopped off in Farnham cemetery (it’s just across the road) and took a few photographs. Here are a couple:

Farnham cemetery, West Street

Farnham cemetery, West Street

It doesn’t look very pretty and, to be fair, it’s not really! But it is a huge area and maybe I didn’t get to the pretty bit. It’s also on a very busy road. Not that you can hear that.

Then, on my way home, the light was lovely so I took a couple of photographs off West Street.

The first one is a private road. You can always tell a private road because it’s not surfaced. This one looks quite sweet. Though big hedges always start alarm bells in my head. They are usually planted because of the noise!

West End Grove, Farnham

And, finally, our lovely Georgian museum. Actually, the building is Georgian…the museum stretches right across known time.

Farnham Museum, West Street

You can see from that shot what a lovely day it was today.

Back when Tony first asked me to be a presenter for the Talking Newspaper, he also wondered whether I’d be his back-up for the schedule. Each quarter he prepares the roster for all the presenters and readers for the upcoming editions. He told me he used a whizz bang spreadsheet to plot it all. I said, sure, I love spreadsheets. Which I do.

I know that probably makes me sound a bit sad. The spreadsheet love thing. But the reason I managed to get a job in the UK (many years ago now) was because of my strangely all-encompassing knowledge of Excel and the power of columns and rows. While I wasn’t that keen on working at Global Beauty, it did get us started over here and I’ve been grateful for that.

And I do actually enjoy spreadsheets. Mirinda marvels at this because I am totally deficient when it comes to numbers. I am completely dyslexic in maths. I don’t know why but the simplest of numeracy problems escapes me. I maintain that this is why I love spreadsheets – they do the maths for you!

Anyway…for this reason I agreed to be Tony’s back-up. Today I went to his place to find out all about it.

Public footpath, north of Farnham

Tony lives about the same distance as we are from the centre of Farnham but in the opposite direction. I checked a map and there were a number of public footpaths, zigzagging with a haphazard beauty, across the fields to his street. Obviously I decided to follow these rather than tramp along a road that may or may not have a footpath of any kind.

The day was bright and warm, the walking easy. Down by the University (the lowest scoring in the country…or at least it was) which looks all modern and cool.

Farnham University of Creative Arts, entrance

Turn right at the end and head into the fields. I was completely alone; not a soul anywhere; the only sound apart from the insects, the distant thrum of a tractor in some unseen field. The hay had been harvested, the stubble on the ground looked like so many million marines buried up to their necks. No traffic, birds singing like lunatics. Vague splats of red daubed hither and thither where poppies had migrated. It was wonderful.

Path on the way to Tony's place

I managed to make good time to Tony’s place and we had a most productive time – an hour spent with a spreadsheet – before I bid him farewell.

He (and his wife) have a lovely house. High on a hill, overlooking Farnham, with a lovely big, mature garden. They are celebrating their golden wedding anniversary this week and are planning a big party under a marque in the back garden for 50 people! That just shows how big the garden is. For England, I mean. That’s not so big in Oz.

The walk home was just as lovely. Naturally I had my new camera with me as the weather was so kind. I snapped away like a demented paparazzi.

On the way home

I had to build a fence to hold the lavatera out of the way.

Due to the weather and the fact that it’s growing like a thing possessed, egress to the back of the garden was seriously hampered. I had a good think about it and, eventually, decided to use a section of the old fence that the Crazies claimed delineated our land from the 2″ that belonged to them.

A fence to keep the lavatera out of harms way

They (the Crazies) have taken to sending their kids to sleep in the back garden on the weekend. They were there again last night – I heard them early this morning talking in their tent. The same as last week and the week before New York as well. I realise kids enjoy ‘camping out’ and all but this seems to be a now regular thing. I don’t really care but they do make me wonder sometimes.

The other thing is that Mr Crazy never says hello or indicates he knows anyone in the street (not just me). His wife is now fine. She says hello when we meet outside. She even gestures from the car if she drives by. But not the husband…or the kids. They really are slightly crazy, I think.

I’m hoping they don’t realise what I’ve done with the fence. I’m pretty sure they are of the opinion that we would one day put it back, 2″ from the big fence. Neighbours can be odd creatures.

I took a couple of shots in Farnham this morning for Mirinda. Firstly the lion and lamb statue.

Close up of the Lion & Lamb statue

I managed to get nice and close so you can see the malevolent look in the lion’s eye. Obviously it was carved mere moments before he swallowed the lamb whole.

The back of the almshouses on Castle Street always look lovely but especially so when the sun is actually out…like it was this morning. These were built in 1618 (or around this time) for poor and “…impotent people”.

Castle Street almshouses

And, finally, a look down Long Garden Walk. This is where I walk almost every day to Waitrose (except when I have to go via the French shop for almond croissants) and the Hop Blossom is the pub at the end.

View up Long Garden Walk

Hopefully, the sun will return tomorrow and I’ll take some shots of the front garden.

Milan station is an amazing place. The building is huge; a massive open space with a shopping mall beneath and massive columns in the main concourse. Outside it resembles a triumphal arch.

The odd thing is that the platforms at Milan station are on both sides of the train and a long way down. As soon as the train pulled in and (almost) stopped, I opened the door and hauled our luggage down onto a deserted platform. I figured everyone was asleep but as we made it to the end of the train (which appeared to only have six berth couchettes the entire length) I spotted a huge crowd of passengers on the other side of the train, gathered around a guard waving tickets and small children at him. We shrugged and moved on, not caring.

The Hotel Andreola is just down the road and, once you find the road, very close and easy to find. We rolled our bags in and checked in with the night manager (it was about 11:30) without any problems.

The hotel is advertised as four star but I think this is because it’s in the middle of Milan rather than because it’s better than a three star. Don’t get me wrong, the room was comfortable enough – at least it would have been if the air conditioning had actually worked. After a while in the stifling heat of the room we flung the windows open to try and capture a bit of fresh air in the stillness of the night.

We rang down to the front desk (twice) to get someone to come and fix it. Eventually a totally unqualified porter arrived. He fiddled with the control panel (just like I did) and made a few calls down to the desk, explaining in excited Italian that we were right, it didn’t work. He tried a few more things while Mirinda insisted we move to another room. I think he tried to explain that there were no other rooms just as the air conditioning leapt into action, the engine whirring away sounding for all the world like a sick whale. His face lit up and he left.

After another half an hour during which I managed to buy an hour of wi-fi time (I find it hard to believe that a four star hotel doesn’t have wi-fi as standard for its guests rather than having to nominate how long you want it and buying a small piece of paper with a code for access) and booked our plane tickets home, it was apparent that the motor was working on the air conditioning but no air was coming out of the grill. We gave up, opening the windows and shutters and managed to sleep.

The next morning we slept in, enjoying the scant complimentary breakfast (an extra €5 to enjoy it your room) which included about ten gallons of milk but only enough water for one tea and one coffee. I tried to watch the BBC World channel but it had been reprogrammed although the hotel room was supposed to receive it. We showered and left. Actually the shower was very good: Pressure excellent and nice and hot. We checked out, discovered where the airport shuttle left from and departed.

Outside Milan station s a long line of coaches that regularly leave for the many Milanese airports. We had booked a British Airways flight leaving from the closest (Linate) and looked for the one we needed. It was very reasonably priced for the short trip, a surprise this holiday, and it deposited us at the airport with a minimum of fuss.

For all I moan about airports and the bad service I generally get at them, I have to say the BA staff at Linate airport were brilliant. We easily checked in (Mirinda in business, me in coach) and went through security without any fuss at all. Mirinda went off to the lounge for some relaxing freebies while I enjoyed a €1 espresso, made by a very happy and jolly chap just outside the customs gate.

The flight was excellent even though it was full. It only took an hour and a half and we landed at Heathrow Terminal 5. Mirinda, not having a British passport, always has to clear customs through a different line to me. The officials always ask her weird questions. Today they asked her whether she was travelling alone. Who knows why. She answered, irritably, that her husband was on the plane somewhere and they let her through. I think they get bored and just make conversation when they can.

Outside and back in England, we boarded the coach to Woking then a train to Farnham where we took a taxi home.

The house was still there (always a relief), the garden flourishing, the mail stopping the door from opening with its abundance. After a quick reconnoitre, I raced up to Waitrose for some supplies.

The park looked wonderful and green. We’ve missed the green terribly. Como was fine but Venice has very little in the way of nature (except the awful smell which is clearly far too natural for human noses and why we invented sanitation in the first place). I don’t understand people who can live without great swathes of green to look at every now and then.

Having shopped and started to unpack, we settled in for an evening of Doctor Who catch up, blogging, having a much needed shave and mail reading.

In conclusion, our holiday was wonderful, particularly the surprise of Zurich and the splendour of Como and was a worthy celebration of our 20th anniversary. Venice was a surprise. We often visit places where we leave something to come back to (which we’re never likely to do) but not Venice. There’s no way we’d return and if anyone asked my advice about going, I’d tell them to go somewhere nice instead. Finally, like all holidays, it’s great travelling to and seeing new places but, in the end, it’s so good to be home!

My daily attempts to find something to blip has meant I have an awful lot of photographs that no-one is every likely to see. In order to somewhat rectify that, I am going to devote this (and maybe more in the future) post to a few of my second favourites that didn’t quite make the blipping heights.

This first one is of the escalators going up from the Jubilee line at Canary Wharf.

Canary Wharf, Jubilee Line

This was back on October 13, the day before Mirinda flew to Oz. I went to the flat before meeting her and thought this looked interesting but ended up using a photo of some windows in an office building. I still rather like this shot, particularly the big image of the woman in the poster on the left.

This next one is in Farnham Park, of course, early November. I thought these two trees looked like the bigger one was protecting the smaller. It sort of looked rather maternal to me.

The Tree of Love and Protection

Of course, it could just be me. I blipped a photograph of a broken plastic fork and managed to get a five star rating for it! It’s all very odd. I guess my wit and strange way of looking at life helps rather than hinders in the strange world of blipping.

During most of November, when the weather permitted, I wandered around Farnham taking photos for Mirinda, who was missing home. As I stood at the crossroads of East, South & West Streets, this leapt out at me. I think it’s all the signs but I also like the Royal Deer scroll.

Royal Deer, Farnham

I’m not sure what the Royal Deer was or when it was but it’s a realo now.

When the skating rink is installed at the Natural History Museum each year, a sort of fairground atmosphere is created with lots of stalls and a carousel. It all gets very busy and full of kids. This is at lunchtime, before the after work families arrive.

Carousel outside the Natural History Museum

Of course I was then off to Australia and my photographs changed a bit. This is a piece of a big turbine at the model railway at Nambour, just down the (very steep) hill from dad’s hospital bed. I thought it looked quite dramatic.

Bit of a big engine, Nambour

For anyone interested, it’s actually part of the number 3 crushing engine from the Moreton Mill. It was used from 1926 to 1981 after which it was replaced by a bigger, more powerful engine. I wanted to blip this because it looked quite dramatic and powerful but, this was the day I caught the guy paddling on his surfboard at Caloundra. This was an image I just HAD to blip.

The final photograph I’m going to bore you with is from Caloundra, just up from the Powerboat Club. I was so close to blipping this one but I wasn’t happy with the line of the dock across the top. It would have been better had I crouched a little lower so it was obscured by the submerged bench.

Bench in the sand

Still, the bench is what I was after. In fact, with a bit of judicial cropping and lighting, it could have looked like this.

Cropped bench

Although this achieves the best bit of the bench, you can’t get away from the dock! Back to a normal post tomorrow.

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Tonight we’re off to Truffles Restaurant at the Grange Hotel in Alton for our anniversary dinner. No, not our wedding anniversary. It is the anniversary of our arrival here in the UK. It was 13 years ago. We’d normally go to St John’s but they were booked out so we decided to try a restaurant that Mirinda’s been dying to try for ages.

Farnham Park is just a covering for a massive underwater lake. The rain sits on the ground and gradually seeps down, through the chalk, purifying as it goes, and slowly drips into the lake. The lake is then slowly emptied through openings into the land. These openings are (generally) the beginnings of streams and rivers. If memory serves me right, I think this is how the Thames starts. This is all very good and ensures an excellent supply of freshly cleaned water to the surrounding countryside.

In winter, when there’s a lot of rain, the ground is very squishy under foot and there’s a lot of mud. This is because the ground is saturated, meaning the rate of absorption is too slow to allow all the water through at once. And so there’s a lot of it left around. Eventually this does seep through, leaving lush green hills and solid ground.

It is a very important part of nature’s cycle of life, ensuring that rainwater is spread out across a greater area rather than just drench one spot. However, the wonder of the aquifer is what causes it’s greatest annoyance.

Today, Carmen decided we would visit the oak tree walk. We were unable to walk up it directly due to the fact that, where it wasn’t knee deep mud, it was flowing streams of rainwater. All three of us were very muddy by the time we returned home. Combine that with Day-z’s FSI (which I think was ‘baby’ rather than ‘fox’) and you can imagine our bathtub.

Still…the avenue of trees looked good:

Avenue of Trees, Farnham Park

I always like this view, knowing there’s a castle at the other end. It’s always regardless of the season. It invites you in. Just like the Hop Blossom pub!

The Hop Blossom, Farnham

Given the beautiful blue sky behind it, I couldn’t resist taking this photo this morning. Farnham was well known for its hops. They were first introduced shortly before 1600 and by the 1800s were considered the best in the country! This pub is one of the few reminders remaining.

But enough about Farnham! I need to talk about Aldershot.

Last night, of course, was the first Nicktor Night for ages and, to celebrate, we went to see Aldershot play Bradford. I did not have high hopes. The Shots have not had the best of seasons so far and only last week they sacked the manager (Kevin Dillon) and replaced him with a new one (Dean Holdsworth).

Clearly this was the thing to do as they came out fighting, completely dominating the first half. They played like a team that wanted to rise above being third from the bottom of the table. At half time it was 1-0 and Bradford didn’t look like getting a look in.

The second half, Aldershot slipped back into their sloppy habit of the wayward passes to anyone wearing an opposition shirt. Fortunately (for us, not Bradford) our back line held strong and managed to defy anything Bradford tried to throw at us. Even the 70 foot giant they had on their team.

It was a satisfying game and we enjoyed the win. Back at home, we watched one of the worst movies I’ve seen in a long time. It’s called…actually, I don’t think I’ll even bother naming it. It was appalling. The writer/director/editor wanted to recreate a 1980s horror flick (you gotta ask why) and did so very effectively. So effectively, it was just crap.

Although the film was rubbish, we had a lovely Nicktor Night, consumed too much whisky and went to bed far too late. Poor Nicktor had an important day of meetings and presentations after very little sleep. I haven’t heard how he went. Hopefully he managed.