Arts

Herrick '05

I lost again. It was a closer run this year and I did much better than 2004, correctly predicting eleven of the Oscar winners. One year I'll win.

Arts

Film: A Very Long Engagement

If you've seen the trailer you might expect A Very Long Engagement to be a gentle romantic drama where a brief wartime diversion precedes a happy reunion. You'd be wrong.

Instead it's a film about searching. For two hours Audrey Tautou's character follows all the leads she can to try and track down her fiancé, last seen heading off to war. At the same we see five soldiers looking for a way out of the war, and a way to move on from their memories of the gruesome period of their lives.

I'm sure it's good film, but it was so far from my expectations that I wasn't quite paying enough attention to follow every turn.

Arts

Film: House of Flying Daggers

Visually stunning with a magical realism, there's no question that House of Flying Daggers deserves its nomination for cinematography at the Oscars tomorrow night.

Angels

Not Father Christmas

No matter what this Angel in Lavenham thinks, Father Christmas doesn't carry a lute.

Arts

Sold out

Let's be honest: I'm pleased for Andy that his gig tonight is sold out. I'm just a bit annoyed I didn't manage to get a ticket first. Chalk another one up for "gigs I'd have gone to had I been organised enough".

Personal

Snow update

The way the forecasters were going on I was expecting to open my door this morning to a wall of ice. Nothing like it. I even managed to drive up the lane.

More snow is falling now though, so we may yet be on for the contractors v. permies snowball fight later.

In the meantime, here's a picture of last night's flurry.

Arts

Film: Vanity Fair

Look, Vanity Fair is a girl's film. The only reason I went to see it is that I see pretty much everything that shows at my local cinema these days.

But I'm glad I did. It's a story I didn't know at all, and - in my opinion if no-one else's - this is a good telling of it. For once it's wrong to criticise Hollywood for casting so many beautiful actors and actresses. I guess most people left the cinema having fallen in love at least once during the film, but isn't that the point of the story?

Personal

The white stuff

Today's a rare day. It's a "wish I had a Land Rover" day. I managed to get to work on my third attempt; my car couldn't get enough grip on the first two roads I tried out of town.

I don't really want a 4x4. A decent bus service to work would suffice. In fact, one probably already exists. I'm just took hooked on the flexibility of the car to look for it.

Perhaps tomorrow. Either that or I'll walk to work.

Greenbelt

The white one

"What's the white one for?"

The cashier at the Co-Op was pointing at my wrist, not my headphones. And with those words she became the first person to ask me about makepovertyhistory.

The conversation was short. She was looking at the band more as a fashion accessory than a statement, but I guess that's how the message gets spread.

At least with this campaign the one-minute message is easy. You need only say three words. (But why is it only ever cashiers who ask?)

Arts , Personal

The Call

Pip sent me on a trip into my past today. He posted the lyrics to The Call's Let the Day Begin.

That song became the backdrop to my first year at college. I first heard it at Pip and Martin's Very Stinkin' Late Show at Greenbelt in 1990. I'd just finished my A levels. School was behind me. London and life was ahead. "Let the day begin" resonated.

I became a big fan of The Call. I finally bought an import of their next album, Red Moon from a shop in an alley off Wardour Street. I still have the tall cardboard sleeve it came in. (Remember when American CDs came in double-height display sleeves?)

I loved the opening track, with Bono on backing vocals. "Did you see some great vision, did you finally break through? What's happened to you?" An old friend asked me the very same question; instead of staring at the ground I started looking toward the horizon.

I plundered The Call's back catalogue and discovered my all-time favourite of theirs Into the Woods (if only I could find that on CD!). The depth and weight of the words overwhelmed me, faith and doubt diving into the darkness in search of light.

I could go on. Talk about lead singer Michael Been's Light Sleeper soundtrack and its angry opener, World on Fire. Or his solo album, On the Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough.

The Call and Michael Been's music spoke the words inside my head so many times that reading just a snatch of the lyrics takes me right back there instantly.

Arts

Film: The Story of the Weeping Camel

When I got to the cinema this afternoon the manager was busy explaining to a family that Weeping Camel isn't really a good film for children. It's slow. It's measured. It's a Sunday afternoon film.

I let it wash over me. A documentary that doesn't seek to explain another culture, but simply presents it in a matter-of-fact way. Fascinating. Moving. Calming.

Walks

Mid-Suffolk walks

The clouds were duelling today. They hurled the weapons over an unprepared East Anglia. An early flurry of snow was a little pathetic and soon gave way to cold rain and a hail. Late in the afternoon the snow returned on a more impressive scale, but by then the victor had already been crowned; the day belonged to the very, very cold rain.

This was the backdrop as I set out, determined to complete two more Suffolk Walks.

Distance: 5.26 miles
Ascent: 135 metres
Duration: 1 hour 36 minutes

Walk 12: Cretingham and Brandeston

I don't think dog walkers "get it". Take the man I met just north of Brandeston. He wore wellies and a BT jacket. "You training or something?" he asked. The idea that I might be out in this weather for fun was lost. My answer to his second question confused him more. "Are you Peter?" How can I answer that without seeming facetious? He left shaking his head. If I had a dog he'd have understood. And had I a dog, I might have figured out why he gave his German Shepherd a regular bop on the nose.

Distance: 6.41 miles
Ascent: 175 metres
Duration: 2 hours 20 minutes

Walk 13: Framlingham from Dennington

This would be a perfect summer's walk: three miles towards the castle at Framlingham; lunch at The Crown before returning to Dennington for a post-walk pint at the Queen's Head. I kept this image in mind and foolishly heeded it rather than the guide-book which warned, "You may care to take the footpath to the left of the lane but this is often virtually unwalkable because of mud."

With filthy trousers and boots I felt I had to opt for the Co-Op rather than the Crown. Maybe another time. Summer can't be too far away, can it?

Comment

Being nosey

Have you seen that the Land Register of England and Wales is now online? For £2 a pop you can download the register entry for any property.

Interestingly it looks like there's an entry for a property at SW1A 1AA but not SW1A 2AA. (Put those postcodes into the system to see what I'm talking about.)

Even better for nosey neighbours, at least one company - Nethouseprices.com - has bought a copy of the database and is providing a free service whereby you can find the value of any property transaction completed since 2000. (So that's how much my ex-neighbour made when he sold up after six months...)

The BBC has an article with links to further sites.

Have fun!

Arts

Inoffensive, unoriginal

My quest for live music continues. Tonight, the King's Head - a large pub on the Market Hill here in Woodbridge.

Through the window I could see a man with an acoustic guitar and a music stand. The audience was small and not particularly enthusiastic. I paused by the door, just able to discern the closing line of David Gray's "Babylon". When it was followed by "Ain't No Sunshine" I knew it wasn't worth hanging around.

Do I really have to go to Cambridge or London to see anything new?

Comment

Frightening words

What words could come through my letterbox to make me a little nervous? What sort of official letter would cause me to pause and think rather than deal with it immediately?

"Please send me a cheque."

I currently average about two cheques a year. It's a wonder any of us remember how to write them.

Greenbelt

More memories

A couple of further recollections about last weekend.

1. I wasn't the first to bring out a laptop! By Saturday lunchtime a fair few had been spotted, and none were mine (although admittedly I was clutching my PowerBook later in the day). You may stop calling me a geek now.

2. I rode a unicycle! Only a short distance, and in relative privacy. It must have been the first time in two years or so. Good to know I can still balance. You may continue calling me strange.

Tech

Collecting the set

As of last week, I now own angel lane .org, .com and .net. Snapping up that last one felt as if I'd completed a set of Monopoly cards.

There are other generic top-level domains (.name, .biz, etc.) but I'll not fall into the trap of going after them too.

Professionally I argued against the creating of new gTLDs. Everybody wants to be a dot-com, and most will go after 'their' name in each new gTLD to 'protect the brand'. The end result is an ever-increasing cost to businesses, with no direct benefit (ultimately it's the dot-com that you promote). Only those selling domains will see direct benefit.

So three is enough for me. Beside can't I now charge double rent and start to build houses and hotels?

Greenbelt

Weekend

Let's see. It started with a whistle-stop tour of American politics filtered through Christian eyes. Then two great comedians and some late night drinking with friends.

Saturday brought with it more deep thinking - back to the roots of our discontent, and re-evaluating the Bible through the mechanisms of contemporary culture with a wise theologian. A little strategic thinking about our festival, some time off in the countryside, various videos and live music. The day was rounded off by missing a play and more music because the talking and drinking was too compelling.

Then today: generous living, a fantastic communion service, farewells and finally home.

The phrase "a little Greenbelt in the middle of winter" has been used to describe the Wing and a Prayer Weekend before, but this is the first time I've really felt it accurate.

My head's so rammed full of thoughts and moments from the weekend it might take me until August to unpack them all.

Arts

Loon '05

I lost. Six predictions out of twenty-one awards correct. Fewer than last year and fewer than Jay got right. The Loon is no longer mine.

Arts

No live music

One week, two gigs. At least that was the plan. It'd have propelled me into that gig-a-month crowd I've always wanted to be a part of.

The plan doesn't always work. KT Tunstall was sold out on Monday and Andy Thornton's support slot tonight clashes with the Greenbelt Wing and a Prayer weekend.

Maybe next month.

Comment

Prejudice

There are a fair few signs around the country now telling us to "Fight prejudice; Fight the ban".

I decided to inform myself - to hear both sides of the hunting debate. The case for a ban on hunting is well made and readily available. The case against a ban on the other hand seems to be missing.

Seven weeks ago I asked the Countryside Alliance, "Why hunt?". I received an acknowledgement that such a "fundamental question" was not covered by their website within a week but have heard nothing since. This does not exactly help someone who wants to form an opinion having examined the facts.

Fight prejudice. Accept the ban.

Comment

Second Shrove Tuesday

Yesterday for perhaps the first time ever I cooked pancakes for myself on Shrove Tuesday.

I had to go out specially to buy eggs and butter for the pancakes; doesn't this seem the wrong way round? Instead of using up fat on Shrove Tuesday I was bringing it in, and now I find myself having a surreptitious second batch today to use up the batter.

Ash Thursday, anyone?

Hannah had the right idea: "Always start the pancake season early."

Arts

Film: Vera Drake

Gritty. Compassionate. Bold.

A great film on many levels. Not necessarily easy to watch, but certainly very worthwhile.

Angels

Cartmel Angels

One last picture from my week in Cumbria: a host of Angels waiting in the wings of Cartmel Priory.

Personal

Found: one derelict...

I've found it. It's just east of the A1, a little north of Catchpole, between where the A1 crosses the B6326 and the railway mainline.

What interests me is how wrong I was about the graffiti. There's nothing political here; the markings are the usual mix of insults, tags and names. (Given the prevailing news stories it's not surprising I jumped to the conclusion the paint was anti-war.)

I'm disappointed - a unique canvas for creative communication used in a very pedestrian way - but it's good to know I didn't dream the whole thing up.

Walks

Gummer's How

Today's weather is even worse than yesterday's, but we managed one last walk to round the week off - up Gummer's How from Jon and Hannah's house.

Distance: 3.6 miles
Ascent: 263 metres
Duration: 2 hours 1 minute

Viewpoint

It's a small hill, but Gummer's How provides great views of the fells. Lake Windermere below was still except for a single boat running circles at the northern end. Across the lake a covering of snow on the very tops of the hills was just about visible under their shroud of cloud.

As the sun set we headed back down, a view of the whole of Morecambe Bay as a backdrop. Thirty-five miles across the water the slender form of Blackpool Tower was clearly visible. It's perhaps one hundred and fifty miles' walk round the coast from Sellafield but I'll get there eventually.

Walks

Easdale Tarn

Distance: 4.4 miles
Ascent: 295 metres
Duration: 2 hours 31 minutes

The ever-present rain

Emma's come up to join me this weekend and Wales' drizzle has followed her all the way. Still, she didn't come up to the Lake District to sit in coffee shops all day so we headed out for this simple short walk.

It's just a couple of miles from Grasmere up to Easdale Tarn but you quickly leave behind the tea and trinkets of the tourist trail. The wind chill dissuaded lingering and a mist shrouded the hills so there wasn't much of a view either.

But still: a good little walk, a great way to spend a few hours.

Coastwalk

St Bees → Sellafield

Distance: 7.31 miles
Ascent: 239 metres
Duration: 3 hours 29 minutes

Living on the beach
« Workington | Ravenglass »

I didn't look too closely at the map for today's walk so had expected to be walking across wide deserted beaches. I was right to an extent. What I'd missed was the string of homes built right on the beach edge, undefended from the sea.

I stopped to talk with a man who was patching up storm damage. "I'm seventy-four and have lived here forty-one years," he told me. The sea may crash against his front wall but it's not washed him away yet.

"And if it weren't for the wife," he continued, "I wouldn't bother with the car."

Now this surprised me. It's hard to imagine a more isolated place to live yet for this man everything he needed was a ten minute walk then a twenty minute train ride away.

I was quite taken with the idea of living by the sea in Braystones, but I'm sure that feeling would be taken away with one sharp bite of the tide.

Coastwalk

Workington → St Bees

Distance: 16.6 miles
Ascent: 426 metres
Duration: 5 hours 28 minutes

Changes
« Beckfoot | Sellafield »

Since Gretna the coast path has been predominantly flat, the land generally being confined to cattle farming. That changes with the Corus steelworks south of Workington and the view of St Bees Head rising out of the Irish Sea.

The path up to St Bees Head was the most enjoyable I've walked all week. For a mile or so it climbs diagonally up the cliff from an old quarry working. It's a gentle gradient ahead and behind, but the cliff towers above to the left and crashes down steeply to the sea on the right. If only I hadn't needed to storm round there in order to meet my train back.

Coastwalk

Beckfoot → Workington

Distance: 16.4 miles
Ascent: 199 metres
Duration: 5 hours 43 minutes

Facing the open sea
« Kirkbride | St Bees »

The Solway Firth is the large body of water that separates England from Scotland on the west coast. Today I finally turned the corner and caught a glimpse of the open sea ahead of me. I've stopped walking west and have started heading south.

Looking across to Criffel I saw into the future briefly. In twenty years time will I finally have made it to the west coast of Scotland? Will I be looking back at the Cumbria coast trying to remember those early years of coast walking?

If you're ever walking in the Lake District, I strongly suggest forsaking the fells for a day and taking the path from Silloth to Maryport. The path is easy to follow, and if you get tired there's an hourly bus service just a couple of hundred metres inland.

There was a lot of refuse on the beach; just north of Allonby I met a couple who litter-pick the dunes near them daily. One thing they'd not found was this jigsaw of a sign. I pieced it together as best I can, but can't figure out the message. Suggestions anyone?

Beyond Maryport I met another beachcomber. In the shadows of sixteen wind turbines I met a man filling his pockets with coal washed ashore on the tide, the classic sources of energy vying for a place amongst the new.