Category Archives: personal

amusements, people, personal

Oh Dear Me

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This week’s challenge at The Gallery is an Embarrassing Outfit.

Hmmm. I don’t generally do “outfits”. They’re not my style. Besides men in skirts tend not to be understood, unless one comes from the heathen lands north of Hadrian’s Wall. Despite being a southerner, there is a tradition, which I’ve never proven, of some Scots ancestry and I did have a kilt when I was young. But I can’t find a photo of me then; even my mother doesn’t appear to have one. That surprises me, but it’s probably just as well.

The best I can do for an embarrassing outfit is me leading off the East Hertfordshire Scouts’ St George’s Day Parade at Turnford in 1964.

St George's Day Parade 1964

Yep that’s me, aged 13, at the front in the poncy white gloves — God they were uncomfortable: thick, stiff leather and whitened to death. And just look at those awful shorts! I led that parade for two or three years; this was probably the first occasion.

I dare you all to show me your embarrassing outfits.

personal, pleasures

Listography: Mugs

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How do you view your coffee (or in my case, tea) mug? As something boring and utilitarian? Or as something joyful and artistic?

In essence that’s the question Kate is asking this week in her Listography. She wants to see five of our favourite mugs.

Well you’ll be glad to know I’m not going to show you five of mine. I’ll show you one, because I tend to the view that the coffee mug is something utilitarian and generally boring.

As far as I’m concerned a mug has to fulfil just a few simple criteria: it must be dishwasher proof, fairly straight-sided (I can’t abide flared or fancy shapes), with no daft slogans or girlie pictures, made of pottery (unless for the consumption of alcohol when glass is de rigueur). Most importantly they must hold a pint of liquid.

Yes, I drink everything by the pint. I can’t be doing with silly little cups that hold half a mouthful.

So here is the tea mug I’m drinking from while writing this …

John Leach Mug

This one was made by John Leach at Muchelney, Somerset. I have two or three of these mugs (which hold about a pint) and we also have a selection of other Leach kitchenware pots, all of which are used. I do love John Leach pottery which is fired in a Japanese-style wood burning kiln to give it those wonderful colours and a rough finish. It is wonderful stuff to look at and to use; it is about my only concession to the arty in mugs — well in china at all, really. And no wonder. John Leach is the eldest grandson of master potter Bernard Leach, and son of David Leach. So pottery is in his blood; it has been his life’s work and passion.

If you’re anywhere near Somerset, do go to John Leach’s pottery at Muchelney where they have a shop and a small art gallery. You might well meet the potters too. And while there make sure to visit Muchelney church to see the wonderful décolleté angels on the ceiling.

[Hint: Take your satnav. Muchelney is one of those places that is impossible to find. I think we’ve got lost every time we’ve been there!]

Apart from these by John Leach my other tea/coffee mugs are all plain boring pottery. And you all know what a plain boring pottery mug looks like.

food+drink, natural history, personal

Reasons to be Grateful: 13

Experiment, week 13. This week’s five things which have made me happy or for which I’m grateful.

  1. Green Woodpecker. I’ve always been one for watching the birds — both feathered and primate varieties. One of the feathered type which I’ve always liked but seldom seen is the Green Woodpecker, colloquially know as a Yaffle from its laughing call. I’m lucky as I now see them irregularly but several times a year going through the garden. We had one hunting for food in the snow earlier this week. They’re extremely handsome.
  2. Fresh Snow. I don’t know why, but there is always something slightly romantic about seeing snow fall and fresh, virgin snow on the ground.
  3. Baked Ham. I love home cooked, succulent ham. However I tend to avoid buying gammon joints as these days I consider gammon lacks flavour and has always been over-priced. When I can get one I buy a smoked collar joint. Collar as a cut is greatly under-rated. Collar rashers are larger and for my money much better value than the ubiquitous back bacon. Even better, if you can get it, is a large collar joint; it makes an excellent ham. (Waitrose normally have collar joints but they are mostly too small; you really need one about 1.5 Kilos — that’s the size they should be if the pig has been grown fully.) Noreen has a great way of cooking it in a plain flour and water (huff) pastry case which you discard afterwards. Eaten hot with roast or jacket potatoes, veg of choice and parsley or mushroom sauce it is great comfort food. Or eat it cold with salad, or mash and pickles, or between bread.

  4. Redwings (right) and Fieldfares (below right). These two birds are both members of the thrush family which we don’t see regularly in gardens in the UK. They are birds of open countryside where they gather in mixed flocks. They are winter visitors to the UK and only come to gardens in the hardest of weather. So we’ve had a few around over the last few days and this morning there was a mixed band of at least 60 birds sitting in our silver birch trees. Lovely to see.
  5. Fish & Chips. Yesterday we had the quarterly Anthony Powell Society London pub meet at the Audley in Mayfair. This is always a convivial and informal occasion where we enjoy good beer, good pub food, good company and interesting chat. I try not to eat much fish unless I know it is farmed or sustainably caught, but the Audley’s fish and chips is an exception: it is always good and a popular choice amongst the regulars at the pub meet. More comfort food!
personal, photography, ramblings

Grandma Marshall

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This week’s theme over at The Gallery is A Family Story. As Tara says

This week I want you to dig back into your archives — be that last week, last year or the last century — and tell me a story. You know those quirky little stories you pass on from generation to generation? Every picture tells a little story, but some tell a really special one. I want to see THAT photo.

So … This is an oil painting of my father’s mother done by my mother, probably in the early 1960s. I photographed the painting a couple of years ago.

Grandma Marshall

It is a scarily accurate representation. Yes, she was as miserable as she looks; I never recall her being in the least bit fun — but that’s what strict Baptism and being left by your husband for a young floozy during WWII does for you, I guess. (Somewhere I have three illegitimate half-aunts by my grandfather.) Only now am I beginning to understand some of what happened and the ramifications — but that’s not itself the point of the story.

My grandmother died in 1973. I had no contact with her, or my father’s brother and sister, after the mid-60s (when I would have been in my mid-teens). My father more or less disowned his sister when she married her (widowed) cousin (she knew she could never have children so that wasn’t a consideration).

My grandmother’s death brought about the final rift between my father and his family. My father understood that his brother and sister were accusing him of only being after his mother’s money (there wasn’t any!) when he was asking questions merely because he was his mother’s executor. He stood down as my grandmother’s executor and a rift was created. A rift which was never healed.

I missed my aunt. She and I had always got on well and she took a keen interest in how well I was doing. To be honest I didn’t miss my grandmother or my uncle, but then I saw little of them anyway. I knew I dared not re-make contact while my father was alive as that would only make matters worse.

When my father died in 2006, at the age of 86, I figured that if they were still alive his brother and sister (both younger than my father) deserved the courtesy of knowing. I had to do some research; I knew only my aunt’s and my uncle’s approximate addresses from my teenage years. Where were they now? Were they even alive? I thought my aunt probably wasn’t — a gut feeling which turned out to be wrong; it was my uncle’s wife and their eldest son who had died.

I found addresses; I hoped they were correct. I wrote them both a short letter with a Christmas card. In it I said that I hoped they would excuse my intrusion, that I thought they should know what had happened and an invited them, if they chose, to get in touch otherwise I would remain silent. The most I expected was a return Christmas card with a polite note. But within 24 hours I had both my aunt and uncle on the phone. They were delighted to remake contact. So after a gap of well over 40 years I met up with both of them, and my cousins plus some of their children.

As a result of healing the rift I have learnt a lot more about my family, and especially the circumstances surrounding all the angst. There was, of course, far more than met my teenage eyes. I am in the process of putting together all my aunt’s and my father’s papers. I can now see why my grandmother, my grandfather, my father and his siblings were as they were/are — and some of the joins that weren’t made thus causing the rift. Luckily my aunt decided at a young age to rise above it, and did so. She became a very senior nurse and declined more than one appointment as a Matron. Despite my father I too have mostly managed to rise above the negativity although somewhat later in life.

As to the painting, Noreen and I discovered it amongst my mother’s art work when we were clearing out her bungalow after she moved into a care home a couple of years ago. (My mother is now 96 and still drawing and painting!) Knowing my aunt (the youngest child) was close to her mother, I sent her this photograph of the painting.

In June 2010 I was invited to my aunt’s 80th birthday party. Not knowing what on earth to buy her I thought she should have the painting. Luckily my mother agreed. We had it framed. You cannot imagine how delighted she was! Here she is, looking unnaturally solemn, after being presented with the painting.

Jessie with Portrait of her Mother

personal

Listography: It's guaranteed to wind me up!

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In this week’s Listography Kate is asking that we write down the top five phrases which drive us crazy.

Only five Kate? I could write a whole book!

Anyway here is a selection of five.

He should be there. The immortal words of every taxi controller when you ring up to find out what happened to the car that you booked for half an hour ago. Yes, I know he should be here, but guess what? He isn’t. Which is why I’m ringing you, dickhead!

People are confused. So frequently heard in the media these days. It seems to be polite-speak for “We think people are terminally thick so we’re going to condescend to them and tell them what to do”. People usually aren’t confused. They may not know. And they may not be intelligent enough to understand. But they aren’t usually confused, unless you deliberately confused them to start with.

You’ll have to phone X. Why? This is your problem as it is you I’m complaining to. You should be owning the problem and getting it sorted for me. Why do I, the customer, have to do the running around — and paying for phone calls — when you’ve screwed up?

It’s not my fault. Another refuge of the inadequate call centre** droid. Yes, I know it isn’t your fault, but you are representing your company and it’s you that I, the customer, am asking for help. Now own the problem and do something.

My system is going slow or We’re having IT problems today. Yet another refuge of the call centre assistant. What you mean is your company doesn’t invest properly in its IT infrastructure. Makes me wonder why I do business with people who can’t run a business properly!

Oh and a bonus for good luck … Can I just pop you on hold a moment? Another perpetrated by the call centre. Translate as “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about so I’ll let you pay to listen to crap music for 10 minutes while Tracey tries to explain it to me for the third time today”. This is yet another sign that your call centre is being run on the cheap: the people aren’t well enough trained and there aren’t enough of them for the volume of calls. It would be more polite to say “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Please may I get someone to call you back”? — as long as they do call back promptly!

Oh God, they’re all about poor service, which makes me sound a real grumpy old git. I’m not really. And I’m usually fairly forgiving, if only because I know what it’s like manning a call centre (and being a checkout assistant)! As well as being a customer, everyone should have to spend time working the other side of the counter and dealing with the awful public. It might make people a bit more polite to call centre staff, but maybe less forgiving of poor management.

It’s such a delight when one does come across someone who is friendly, does know and really does help fix the problem. I try to make a point of thanking them and telling them how good their service has been.

So what gets right up your goat then missus?

** I use “call centre” loosely to include all those counter assistants one dreads having to deal with in computer stores, home appliance stores, banks etc.

personal

Reasons to be Grateful: 12

Experiment, week 12. This week’s five things which have made me happy or for which I’m grateful.

  1. Purple Sprouting Broccoli. Unlike most people I do actually like almost all the brassicas. I’m not so fond of kale, which is generally a bit tough and bitter, and I can take or leave broccoli. But one that I always enjoy is purple sprouting broccoli which is now in season.

  2. Garlic Potatoes. Roast small (ping-pong ball size) potatoes in a foil parcel with lots of chopped garlic, salt & pepper and a drizzle of good olive oil. You should be the potatoes crisping up and some pieces of caramelised garlic.
  3. Norman Architecture. Our trip to Chichester on Tuesday reminded me how much I enjoy Norman architecture compared with the later styles — although fan vaulting is always a wonder!

    Norman Triforium Arch, Chichester Cathedral
    Norman Arch in Chichester cathedral. Click image for larger view.

  4. Alpine Days. I quite like winter when it is cold, frosty (or snowy), bright sun and blue sky. It is all the cold, damp, grey and miserable I find depressing. I always feel better for sunshine.
  5. Curry. I hardly need say more!
amusements, memes, personal

Good Badness

Both Katy (Katyboo) and Emma (Belgian Waffle) have invited us all to document what we are good and bad at. So who am I not to comply with such royal command.

So here goes …

BAD GOOD
Drawing and painting
DIY — actually anything dexterous
Spontaneity
Anything athletic
Reading quickly
Complaining about service
Being active & getting out
Respecting management
Suffering fools & the pretentious
Saving money
Vanity
Phoning people
Foreign languages
Latin
Patience
Erections
Logic Puzzles
Exercise
Self-publicity		 Nagging
Navigation & map reading
Organising
Project management
Maths and science
Logic
Analysing situations, quickly
Being idle
Eating and drinking
Thinking
Bending the rules
Telling it like it is
Sleeping in late
Research
Arguing & disputing
Computery things
Making decisions
Finance
Being stressed
Being overawed by the great & good

So how about you all tell me what you’re good at — either in the comments or on your blog and leave a link in the comments?

Now I’m off to the supermarket.

personal, pleasures

Reasons to be Grateful: 11

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Experiment, week 11. This week’s five things which have made me happy or for which I’m grateful.

  1. Hypnotherapy. I’ve been having hypnotherapy now for a year or 18 months in an effort to shift the problems underlying my depression and weight. It’s been an interesting voyage. We haven’t yet fixed the problems yet, but Chris (who has also been my osteopath for the last 25+ years) and I remain hopeful. But I’m clearly his challenge case. While I can be hypnotised I don’t respond easily because my brain is so controlling and analytical it sees through whatever is being done, knows what’s coming next, keeps monitoring everything and thus never allows itself to properly dissociate the conscious and subconscious. But we’re making progress; techniques are being found to confuse my brain into submission; and I’ve discovered quite a lot of interesting stuff along the way. Besides it’s an interesting experience as well as very relaxing.

  2. Haggis. Last Wednesday (25 January) was Burns’ Night when, in homage to our Scots ancestry (Noreen’s actual; mine a family myth never proven) we always have the traditional haggis. So many people don’t like (the thought of) haggis. We love it. It is really only a variation on sausage but made from bits of sheep rather than bits of pig. OK, yes, they’re offal-ly bits but then so has a lot of sausage always been. It’s tasty, filling and good comfort food for the depths of winter. When I was a student in York the nearest fish and chip shop to the university campus used to do deep-fried battered haggis (small sausage-sized ones) which was brilliant with chips on a cold winter night after a few pints.
  3. Jubilate Agno. A chunk of blogging last week centred around the literature we studied at school (see here and here): thoughts prompted by Katyboo. This brought back to me Christopher Smart‘s Jubilate Agno which I have loved ever since we first sang Benjamin Britten’s setting when in the school choir. It’s quite long and, in amongst a host of strange religious themes, word- and rhyme-play etc., contains a homage to his cat Jeoffry. It was written in the 1750s/60s when Smart was confined to a mad house with religious mania.

    For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
    For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
    For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
    For is this done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
    …
    For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
    For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
    For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
    For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
    For he will not do destruction if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
    For he purrs in thankfulness when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
    For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
    For every house is incomplete without him, and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.

  4. Crocuses. I noticed today that we have the first few crocuses in flower, and the cyclamen down under the fruit bushes has been out for a week or two. While it is a bit early for crocuses — so they may be very confused Autumn Crocuses — it is surely a sign that Spring is on the way.
  5. Katy. Our blogging friend Katy escaped from her tribe of urchins for a weekend’s downtime in London. It was lovely to be able to give her a bed for the night and share a leisurely Saturday evening and Sunday morning of real live chat, food, wine and coffee. Katy is always delightful company!
personal

Listography: Websites

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For this week’s Listography Kate is asking us to tell our five most commonly used websites — like the ones that appear at the top of our bookmark list or similar.

As I do pretty much everything I can online these days I use a huge range of sites from Google through news providers to banks. So, with the exception of this blog, here are my five:

  1. Google Reader. This is my homepage because the only way I can keep track of the range of blogs, news sites, Flickr groups etc. I want to see regularly is to subscribe via an RSS feed.

  2. Facebook. Although I’m not very active it’s worth it for keeping in touch with family, friends, acquaintances, former colleagues, etc.

  3. Flickr. All my decent photographs get stored here. And because I’m interested in photography I follow quite a number of people and groups on Flickr. The problem si that there is just too much stuff here to follow properly, which is why I use Google Reader to see the stuff which is of highest interest.

  4. Anthony Powell Society. If you like this is my work site as I’m the Society’s Hon. Secretary.

  5. Amazon UK. These days I shop almost exclusively online and Amazon is my first stop shop — quickly followed by eBay. If you order from Amazon through the link on the right it helps the Anthony Powell Society.

I’ve not looked but I’ll be surprised if between all of us we don’t come up with a very common set of about ten, with a few outliers. Does anyone out there really do anything much different?

history, personal, ramblings

Families

Yesterday I ended up spending a large part of the day immersed in my family history. It all started because Noreen (who has done at least as much work on my family as her own) noticed that one of the files we had from my mother had a birth certificate in it.

We have three crates of stuff from my mother, much of which is organised as a family timeline and history in ring binders, all of which has been refiled. But we realised we hadn’t been through the miscellaneous files for certificates, which I prefer to file separately. We started on the crate of miscellaneous files thinking we’d find a couple of certificates. We found a couple of dozen!

In entering all the certificate data into my family tree app I came across a death certificate for my g-g-g-grandfather, one James Gambridge (born ca.1789, died 1857) which records his occupation as “Cook on Her Majesty’s Ship Victory”. No this is too good to be true! He would have been about 16 at the time of the Battle of Trafalgar (in 1805). Is it possible he served under Nelson at Trafalgar?


Answer: No.

The crew (an incredible 850 officers and men) on HMS Victory at Trafalgar is well documented. And James Gambridge isn’t amongst them. (Nor is there a James Cambridge, the ‘G’ often being mis-transcribed as a ‘C’.) Now one shouldn’t always believe what is given even on certificates, and this rang alarm bells.

Yet I knew James Gambridge’s occupation was given as “Gunner” on his daughter Sarah Ann’s (my maternal g-g-grandmother) marriage certificate (in 1848). So maybe he was an enlisted sailor. Hmmm … more work required.

Then, talking over dinner, Noreen made an almost throw-away comment: “Of course there’s also Leading Seaman Albert Edward T Hicks of Dover who on the 1901 census is shown as serving on HMS Victory at Portsmouth”. What?

Now the Hickses are my father’s mother’s family and, yes, they come from Dover. “Oh yes”, says Noreen, “he’s one of yours”.

Now my g-g-grandfather was a certain Jabez Hicks of Dover, sometime mariner. And we know his son James Albert (1847-1888; not in my direct line) was also a mariner. Noreen is even more fascinated by this family than I am and has established that James Albert had a son Albert Edward Thomas (b. 1875). Both James Albert and his wife died quite young and it seems that the five surviving children were parcelled out around their aunts and uncles (who were likely also their god-parents).

Young Albert Edward was sent to live with his uncle Edward Israel Hicks and on the 1891 census is at the Royal Naval School at Greenwich. So much can be established from census records etc. (Albert Edward Hicks is quite common as names go, but Albert Edward T Hicks isn’t.) And hence Noreen’s discovery of Albert Edward T Hicks on HMS Victory at Portsmouth on the 1901 census.

This I now start to think I don’t believe.

So let’s see what, if anything, the National Archives come up with. God bless this new-fangled internet thingy ‘cos I can do this from home on a Saturday evening!

So after a bit of grubbing around — and much swearing at the awful slowness of the National Archives’ website — lo and behold I can find a Naval service record for Albert Edward Thomas Hicks of Dover. And the document is available for download (for the cost of a pint of beer).

He joined up for 12 years on his 18th birthday in December 1893 as a ship’s boy. He eventually retired from the Navy in October 1919 as a Petty Officer on HMS Lupin (almost 26 years service). He served several tours on HMS Victory (as well as, inter alia, HMS Hood (1891) and HMS Pembroke) and throughout the First World War. Absolutely amazing.

But following the same pattern I cannot find any service record for James Gambridge — and all the records are supposed to be there. One last desperate effort: let’s just do a general search for him, forget about targeting naval records. Wow! And there is a James Gambridge who served in the Royal Navy and Royal Marines between 1804 and 1839. Now this doesn’t quite fit as quoted ages etc. don’t properly match and I don’t yet have the full document (it isn’t one that’s online) to check it all. But yes, it may be a possible fit.

I never knew I had forebears in the Navy, let alone dreamt that they may have served on HMS Victory (albeit not at Trafalgar). And now I find I may had had two such. And both sides of the family. Wow!

Now I need to find more about my paternal grandfather’s service in WWI and WWII, which isn’t proving easy. I know he served as RAF barrage balloon ground crew in WWII. And in WWI he was a conscientious objector but volunteered to serve in the RAMC as a stretcher bearer at the front. How brave is that!