Ten Things this month takes a brief look at where the money goes.
Ten Things I’ve Bought in the Last Month:
Another meme, courtesy AJB on Facebook. It’s almost inevitably a variant on previous ones but is about the height of my abilities today.
Join in if the mood takes you.
Some while back I wrote about the Tavel Rosé, Richard Maby’s Prima Donna, I’d bought from the Wine Society. We continue to enjoy it. In fact it gets better as the supply has now moved on from the 2016, which is what I wrote about, to the 2017 vintage.
And yes, the 2017 is even better than the 2016. It is a little paler in colour, but if anything bursting with even more red berry fruits – especially raspberry.
Now the Wine Society have very recently got what was obviously a small parcel of Maby’s new Tavel, the 2016 Libiamo. I grabbed a case of six without hesitation.
At £17 a bottle Libiamo is significantly more expensive than the Prima Donna, at a mere £11. But if I thought the Prima Donna was good, Libiamo is just out of this world. It’s the same deep coloured rosé, with the same burst of red berry fruits. But oh! how the oak barrels in which it is aged come through: as a delightful ambiance of dry sherry. So much dry sherry that it almost feels like a fortified wine – which is brilliant. We were both stunned!
We’ve just drunk a bottle with a quite rich spaghetti with prawns in a sun-dried tomato pesto sauce. They went so well together; the richness of each complementing the other.
No wonder Libiamo is already sold out! I can only hope there will be further supplies!
Another in my very occasional series of articles on depression – my depression. They are written from a very personal perspective; they are my views of how I see things working and what it feels like on the inside. Your views and experiences may be vastly different. My views and experiences are not necessarily backed by scientific evidence or current medical opinion. These articles are not medical advice or treatment pathways. If you think you have a problem then you should talk to your primary care physician.
Here’s a small selection of links to articles on depression which you may find useful and/or interesting.
Another in my very occasional series of articles on depression – my depression. They are written from a very personal perspective; they are my views of how I see things working and what it feels like on the inside. Your views and experiences may be vastly different. My views and experiences are not necessarily backed by scientific evidence or current medical opinion. These articles are not medical advice or treatment pathways. If you think you have a problem then you should talk to your primary care physician.
Helicopters, leaf blowers, sirens, car alarms, washing machines, motorways, food processors, construction sites, microwaves, air conditioners, lawn mowers, hair dryers, motorcycles, motorboats, cell phones, TVs, stereos, car doors, people constantly talking loudly, aeroplanes, screaming children …
We have non-stop noise these days in our lives. How can we possibly have mental clarity and peace? Our minds are constantly being jolted and thrown violently back and forth by this sudden noise and then the next. [1]
We live in a noisy world – we shouldn’t. No wonder we get so fraught, anxious and depressed.
It is well established that noise is a major disrupter of health – both physical and mental – and seems to be a factor in depression [1,2,3,4,5,6].
Is depression the inevitable aftermath of unabating stress on our bodies, minds and souls living in this noisy, fast-paced modern society? If depression can be caused by a depletion of chemicals that our body naturally produces when in harmony, how can we expect to have this harmony in such an environment that violently assaults our natural relaxed state with noise at two-second intervals? [1]
Noise is certainly a factor in my depression, which is often triggered by pure overload. I don’t want to be assailed by noise – any noise, but especially secondhand noise – just as I don’t want to have too much to do heaped on me.
I need quiet. Much to Noreen’s bemusement, I seldom play music these days; or have the TV or radio on. I used to have something playing all the time but I now cannot function with continual background distraction. Continual (especially man-made) noise – even just the hum of my PC – drives me up the wall.
We live in a noisy world – far too noisy. To demonstrate just how noisy our world is, try doing my 10-minute test.
Now compare with what Piers Plowman would have heard 500 or more years ago while eating his lunchtime bread and cheese under a tree: birds, sheep, a distant dog barking, wind rustling the trees, his horses’ whinnying, a babbling brook, maybe the swoosh of the windmill. How often do any of us hear these natural sounds?
Unless you live in the depths of the countryside I wouldn’t mind betting well over 50% of your noises are man-made and/or drown out the natural. That, at least, is my experience. OK, it isn’t scientific, but it is likely to demonstrate just how noisy our environment is. Is it any wonder we feel hammered?
What can you do about it? Here are twelve things which may help you:
[1] Noise Pollution, Depression, … and Nature As Our Guide
[2] Seven Ways Noise Affects Your Health
[3] Decibel Hell: The Effects of Living in a Noisy World
[4] What Did You Say?! How Noise Pollution Is Harming You
[5] Depression: On Noise, Answering the Telephone and Making Decisions
[6] The ubiquity of the modern beep
So this was the exciting part of our day out on Monday of this week …
For Christmas I bought Noreen and half-day falconry experience with Coda Falconry, who are a couple of miles north of Waltham Abbey. I also made sure we had a couple of guest passes to go with it, especially as I wanted the chance to do some photography (which was not just allowed but actually encouraged).
Noreen has always been interested in falconry, mainly because of its use in medieval times. So this was a superb chance to have four hours hands-on experience. And did we have a great time!
We were a small group: 4 taking part and 3 guest observers. Paul, the falconer, was patient, interesting and knowledgeable about a whole range of natural history and not just falcons.
Starting at midday, and after some brief introduction, Paul brought out a variety of birds, one at a time. And as the day wore on the birds got bigger and bigger!
The first three birds were in turn a tiny Scops Owl (from SE Asia), a European Kestrel, and a Barn Owl. Otis, the Scops Owl was really sweet; he was no more than six inches tall; and he loved being stroked, siting happily on a gloved hand, eyes shut, head tucked in, apparently dozing off!
Bramble, the male Kestrel, was really beautiful with grey head and chestnut back …
Next up was Dizzy, a female Barn Owl …
Paul let us all (participants and observers) feel the Barn Owl’s plumage as it is just so soft – unbelievably softer than anything previously encountered, and softer even than eider down – the feathers were almost ethereal! No wonder Barn Owls are so silent in flight.
All these birds were flown. They would all sit on a post, waiting for a gloved hand, with a piece of food, to be proffered. Then they’d fly over and enjoy the morsel. All the participants experienced this with every bird.
By this time it was pushing 1.30 and, after a short break, time for an hour-long woodland walk to show off Griffin, a 15-year-old Harris Hawk. I opted out of this part as I wasn’t sure how my knees and back would stand up; and besides it was very hot and sunny and a cool drink and some shade was needed. Just as well I did opt out as the walk lasted more like an hour and a half!
I used the gap to have a quick look at the “zoo” on the rest of the farm site (it is very family and school group orientated), see a few of the other birds of prey and have that cool bottle of pop.
When everyone returned about 3pm, Paul showed the final two birds of the day: a Eurasian Eagle Owl and a Golden Eagle.
Logan, the Eagle Owl, is a mean-looking, brute of a bird, although according to Paul he’s actually a softie! But he is certainly fearsome in flight.
Apparently there are now thought to be two pairs of Eagle Owls living in Thetford Forest, and there is a lone female on the loose in Epping Forest (not very far away from Coda’s site). Apparently the females (which as with all birds of prey are larger than the males) are quite capable of taking a fox. (One of Coda’s Harris Hawks has also been known to take a Greylag Goose – no mean feat!)
Last up was the largest bird of the day, Nelson, the Golden Eagle, who weighs in at around 6lbs (almost 3kg). We were all of us allowed to have Nelson sit on our hand: as Paul said “It’s not every day you get to hold a Golden Eagle!”.
The photo above is of Nelson sitting on my (thankfully gloved) hand. He was certainly a magnificent beast: around 75-80cm from beak to tail and with the wonderful bronze/gold head and nape which gives them their name. You wouldn’t want to meet either the Golden Eagle or the Eagle Owl on a dark night!
By this time it was pushing 4pm and the afternoon wrapped up with with the group seeing a number of Coda’s other falcons.
We went off very tired, rather stunned and slightly sunburnt for a much needed couple of pints!
Coda Falconry are a small, award-winning, friendly outfit, with a wide range of birds of prey most of which have been hand-reared and/or are rescues; their team even includes Loki the Raven, who is apparently incredibly mischievous and cunning. Coda do several different experience sessions as well as frequent filming, regular re-enactment displays (many at Headingham Castle), routine pest control work, and more.
What a brilliant day, and thoroughly recommended!
PS. More photos on my Flickr photostream at https://www.flickr.com/photos/kcm76/albums/72157692159960390.
Monday of this week saw us on a special away-day to Waltham Abbey, but I’ll keep you in suspense about the specialness until part 2.
I was brought up in Waltham Cross, just a couple of miles as the crow flies across the Lea Valley and marshes from Waltham Abbey, and although we didn’t go there frequently, I remember the town from my childhood.
I’ve not been to Waltham Abbey since Valentine’s Day 1979 (a day with an inch of ice on every road!) when Noreen and I went out to an expensive restaurant there. And it’s even longer since I was there in daylight.
We didn’t have to be at our appointed place until midday, but having contracted a friend to drive us, we decided to leave early, at 8am, as we knew we had to negotiate the London suburbs to the M25 and then one of the most notorious sections of the motorway. After a slow start we were amazed to be parked up outside Waltham Abbey Church before 9.30. So we had time to spare.
The first requisite was breakfast, and The Gatehouse Café opposite the west door of the Abbey church was calling. Full English Breakfast all round as we didn’t know whether we would get lunch. I’d spotted the café had good ratings on TripAdvisor, and we weren’t disappointed.
Breakfast over, we still had plenty of time to investigate the Abbey church – which I had not been in since singing in a choir there 50 years ago! And let me tell you this is a church well worth a visit.
Waltham Abbey was re-founded by King Harold 1060, there having been a place of worship there since the 7th century. It is said that Harold’s battle cry at Hastings in 1066 was “For the Holy Cross of Waltham” – the Holy Cross being an early 11th century “relic” owned by the Abbey. And it is also reputed that Harold was buried in the Abbey church – there is today a memorial stone (the Harold Stone) some way outside the east end of the church, where the original high alter would have been – the church was originally at least twice the size of what you see today (indeed what you see today is only the nave of the original 12th century church).
The Abbey church itself is of Norman architecture, with decorated round arches in the nave, clerestory and triforium, and substantial round pillars some of which are decorated with spiral or zigzag cut stonework.
The abbey was re-founded (again!) as an Augustinian priory in 1177 by Henry II as part of his penance for the murder of Thomas Becket.
In 1290 the Abbey at Waltham was one of the resting places of Queen Eleanor’s body on its journey from Lincolnshire to burial at Westminster. On the orders of Edward I a cross was erected at each overnight stop, and the one at Waltham was placed at what is now Waltham Cross, being both the nearest solid ground to the Abbey and on the then road north out of London. Waltham Cross is one of only three of the original 12 crosses which survive; the others are at Geddington and Hardingstone. (The cross outside Charing Cross Station is a Victorian replica, and several hundred yards from the original site – but that’s a different story.)
Waltham was the last abbey in England to be dissolved by Henry VIII in 1540 – a mark of its importance – with the last Abbot and the cannons receiving handsome annuities or other payments. This included Thomas Tallis who had been a senior “singing-man” since 1538 and who went on to a post in the choir at Canterbury Cathedral. The Holy Cross also seems to have disappeared at this time. Since the Dissolution the Abbey church has been the local parish church, with the addition of a 16th century tower but demolition of the remaining Abbey buildings.
The church still contains a couple of Tudor monuments; there is a section of painted wall and a Tudor window in the Lady Chapel; as well as some hideous Victorian additions. The 16th century tower is faced with some rather pretty flint-work and the church stands in a substantial, well-kept and treed churchyard. Much of the Abbey grounds are still preserved, although the only remains are a gateway and the remnants of a bridge.
All in all it is well worth a visit.
From here we went on to our to our midday appointment, which I’ll tell you about tomorrow in part 2.
Today (2 June) is International Whores’ Day, aka. International Sex Workers’ Day.
As regular readers will know, and you don’t have to look too far back in the archives to find out, I am a firm believer that sex work should be decriminalised. I’ve never used the services of a sex worker, and I have no plans to do so, but I fail to see why people should not be able to pay for sex, or to sell sex, if that is their choice.
Prostitutes (of all types) perform a valuable social service. In part they may be considered part of the leisure industry, providing what might be called “alternative entertainment”. But they also provide service for many who would not otherwise have sex, or have the sex they want, and that can be a significant factor in preserving mental health.
Fortunately there does seem to be a growing body of academically rigorous evidence that decriminalisation is the best way to protect the human rights of sex workers, and ensure they can follow their chosen profession in safety, with unobstructed access to legal recourse where there is violence or abuse. New Zealand has shown the way on this, as have the World Health Organization and Amnesty International.
I don’t want to have to write at length about all the reasoning, so here are just a few relatively recent reports of some of this research.
Decriminalising sex work is the only way to protect women – and New Zealand has proved that it works; Independent; 29 May 2017
Decriminalising prostitution could ‘dramatically’ reduce sexual violence and STI transmission; Independent; 20 December 2017
Decriminalising Sex Work Is Better for Everyone; Big Think; 12 December 2017
Amnesty International policy on state obligations to respect, protect and fulfil the human rights of sex workers; Amnesty International; 26 May 2016
Q&A: policy to protect the human rights of sex workers; Amnesty International; 26 May 2016
Decriminalising sex work in New Zealand: its history and impact; Open Democracy; 21 August 2015
I don’t understand why prostitution is illegal. Selling is legal. Fucking is legal. Why isn’t selling fucking legal? You know, why should it be illegal to sell something that’s perfectly legal to give away?
– George Carlin
Why is the decision by a woman to sleep with a man she has just met in a bar a private one, and the decision to sleep with the same man for $100 subject to criminal penalties?
– Anna Quindlen
In an article on BBC News website over the weekend one woman talks about how she feels about being fat. I found it interesting because so much of what she says chimes with how I feel. Here are some of the things she says and which I share (plus a few tropes of my own).
Feeling good about your body isn’t always easy when you are overweight.
. . .
Quite literally, I am the elephant in the room.
. . .
I am fat, there’s no getting away from it.
. . .
I don’t think there’s a single part of me … that is small.
. . .
Society has its own sort of perception of people like me – we are disgusting, fat, slothful, lazy, incompetent, stupid.
. . .
[H]ow could you be that fat? The answer is simple – a lack of control, a lack of confidence …
Yes, I have a lack of self-control; it isn’t good enough now but it was much worse years ago when I first put on weight. It is partly down to the lack of confidence but it’s also, in part, the anxiety and depression.
It’s kind of sad that I’m comforted by food rather than other elements in the world.
. . .
The eating combined with my osteoarthritis and other disabilities doesn’t help – the additional weight on the joints isn’t a positive impact.
. . .
I did swim, but don’t any more.
. . .
“Just lose weight.” I hear that all the time from family, friends, colleagues, doctors …
It’s not rocket science – I know that … but that means effort, doesn’t it? It means having to motivate myself and persevere … I can’t …
I can’t because mostly the depression acts as a complete roadblock. I wish it didn’t, but despite trying just about everything available I’ve not yet found a way through the roadblock.
What is also for many oversized people, me included, is that the brain doesn’t internally know one’s real size. The brain still thinks of you being your normal size and doesn’t adjust for your new size. So you don’t (instinctively) realise how much space you take up. You have this internal picture of yourself the way you were (or should be).
People are constantly judging me … I am a reflection of something that they could become. They tell themselves that they’ve got control, they’re sensible, intelligent and no way would they ever get to my size. But let me tell you, I was you once and you could be me.
. . .
The only person I can hold responsible for my position is me. However, I refuse to accept the size I am. This is not who I was meant to be.
If I accept it then I’m telling myself that I’ve given up and I don’t want to give up.
I don’t want to be normal because normal is boring. I just want to be the best of myself.
I wish it wasn’t thus. I don’t like being the size I am. I understand the risks. I know all the things I should do to combat it, and if I could do it I would have done long ago. But having looked at, and thought about, the problem in depth, the first thing that has to happen is to fix the depression and other mental issues. That is a huge challenge, and I’ve not yet found the key to unlocking it – I wish I had!
This month something slightly more topical in Ten Things …
Ten Things I did Over Bank Holiday Weekend: