Personal

The snake

On the embankment beside the Afon Leri yesterday Emma and I came across a snake. It was only a grass snake, and it slithered away quickly enough once it had seen us, but it was still a little startling to see one in the wild especially since I'd almost trodden on it. It's easy to forget the variety of wildlife we have in this country.

Ten minutes spent online over lunch means I now stand a good chance of distinguishing the different reptiles native to the UK. Figuring out the birds might take a little longer though.

Ceredigion Coast Path , Coastwalk

Ynyslas → Borth

Distance: 4.35 miles
Ascent: 96 metres
Duration: 1 hour 53 minutes

Bank Holiday beach
« Dovey Junction | Aberystwyth »

Today's walk was circular. We parked at Borth and walked inland along the Afon Leri to the edge of the Dovey estuary. From there we swung back west to the fine sand of Ynyslas. Past the cars parked up on the beach, round the dunes and south again to the long village of Borth.

There's something about Bank Holiday Mondays that draws people to the coast and today was no exception. The weather co-operated admirably, shining down on the kite surfers and dog walkers, the sand castles and football matches, the ice creams and sunscreens.

Ceredigion Coast Path , Coastwalk

Aberaeron → New Quay

Distance: 7.37 miles
Ascent: 312 metres
Duration: 3 hours 50 minutes

Rugged
« Aberarth | Pigeonsford »

Today's walking has been the best so far on the Ceredigion coast. More than anything else the reason is the weather. It's been glorious.

The path out of Aberaeron was easy and popular, quickly gaining the lush meadows that top the rugged cliffs. As we walked further the crowds thinned out so we soon had the path to ourselves.

At Cei Bach we dropped down to the beach and walked the final couple of miles on the foreshore. Little Quay Bay was easy enough but at the far end of New Quay Bay we had to clamber over the rocks to reach the town. My best guess is that you could walk round the rocks for all but the three hours either side of high tide.

This is certainly a walk worth repeating.

Personal

The TV thing

Let's be clear. I still don't own a TV. I've been waiting for something worth the cost of the set and the license to come on. But having watched the last two episodes of Doctor Who at friends' houses, I'm beginning to wonder whether I should just cave in.

Walks

Snowdon

If you're going to climb a mountain it would be prudent to be well-equipped. I first climbed Snowdon with Dad and Jez in 1982. The following year we walked up with the whole family. On neither of those occasions were any of us kitted out for the walk. We didn't even take water with us - we stopped to sip from streams that cross the path instead. I used to look back and wonder how we made it.

But I knew we did, and I'm thankful. Today the knowledge that an eight-year-old Ruth walked to the top in sandals persuaded me that I'd be on the summit again - twenty two years after my last trip - even though I'd left my socks at home.

Distance: 7.5 miles
Ascent: 908 metres
Duration: 5 hours 30 minutes

The accessible mountain

Emma and I took the same route as those previous two occasions, parking at Pen-y-Pass and following the Pyg Track to the summit before taking the Miners Track back down.

We passed all manner of people en route: fell runners, families, pensioners, young couples, tourists and squaddies. All with one goal: to get to the top. The clouds had rolled in by the time we reached it but somehow the view had become less important by then.

What I love most about Snowdon is that it's an accessible mountain. It takes the countryside out of the hands of the Trail-reading brigade who look down at the Gore-Tex free. The summit café, the 'easy' Pyg Track and the railway ensure almost anyone can reach the top - even those who set off without the 'proper' socks.

Personal

The scent of the countryside

This is the first time I've driven to Emma's after a full day at work. I've just crossed the border into Wales and am sitting down for a quick bite to eat before the final hour's journey.

What's struck me tonight as I made my way across the country is the scent of the journey. A cocktail of fragrances has drifted in and out of the car all the way. My nose has been working hard trying to identify everything. The dominant feeling is one of new growth. Some smells are easy to pick out - such as oil seed rape, its glow extending the hours of sunlight. Others I can't place. But everything smells floral.

Personal

How the letter read

It's not quite what was written, but here's how the letter from the Council read to me:

Dear serf,

The Town Council is very much aware of the pressures on its budget. These are getting worse since we fought the recent election throughout the country by pointing at our opponents' spending and laughing. Woodbridge was no exception.

You poor suckers voted us in.

The letter goes on to propose a residents-only parking scheme. For comparison it provides the details of the cost of season tickets in local car parks before dropping a bombshell in the response slip.

I quote:

For the convenience of a scheme to you, would you be prepared to pay annual fees in the region of: £100-£150 or £150-£200?

Strangely there's no tick-box for £0-£100. Or for "I've never had any difficulty parking outside my house and believe the scheme is just about raising revenue." Or, "How can the cost of running a scheme be so high?" Or even, "Wouldn't it be better if you accepted residents' planning applications for off-street parking?"

Yes, I am annoyed. No, I didn't vote for them.

Personal

The video library

I finally joined a video library last week. It's too embarrassing to admit what the first film I rented was. Let's just say that as the moment the leading lady took a bottle of Dasani out of the fridge seemed symbolic of the film's failure.

Arts

Eurovision

I'll make no apologies for it. On Saturday night I was at a barbecue with friends, watching the Eurovision Song Contest. It's the third time we've got together in this way; another mini-landmark in the year.

I ended up supporting Serbia & Montenegro, Greece and Moldova. I was secretly hoping Moldova's drum-beating grannie would capture the kitsch vote and win, but instead the Britney-lookalike from Greece ran away with it.

They say this means I should host the barbecue next year.

Arts

Film: The Interpreter

At the heart of The Interpreter is an assassination threat on the corrupt leader of a fictitious African nation. With Hotel Rwanda fresh in my memory I was uncomfortable about the political setting of this piece of entertainment, but since the film spends its entire time in New York rather than Africa, this is guilt is quickly forgotten. (And yes, I am a little concerned about how fickle that makes me sound.)

The Interpreter is a good, taut thriller. The kind of film to sink into on a Sunday evening. Just don't analyse it too much.

Walks

Windmills and Pyres

Distance: 4.31 miles
Ascent: 190 metres
Duration: 1 hour 32 minutes

The Chattri from Jack and Jill

A brief visit to Mum's this weekend gave me the opportunity to swap my weekly walk in Suffolk for one on the South Downs. Mum and I parked at Jack and Jill windmills above Clayton and walked to Chattri, the Indian War Memorial that overlooks Brighton.

The bodies of the Sikh and Hindu soldiers of the Indian Army who died at the Royal Pavilion in Brighton while it was used as a hospital during the First World War were cremated on funeral pyres at this spot. It's an isolated place, and on a windy day like today the weather adds drama to its location.

I came here with Dad once. That time we walked north to the memorial from the travellers' site by the A27. I much prefer today's route though, from at the mills, past a golf course and along arable fields to the memorial. It's a fairly short walk, but a good taster of the variety of ways the people have used the Downs.

Greenbelt , Tech

Text as a verb

I always smile when I come across stories about how the USA is getting to grips with mobile phones.

This article from the Chicago Tribune via a U2 fansite is a good example. But it's an even better example of what I hoped would happen when we started up the Media component of Greenbelt's programme. The technology most of us carry in our pockets can be used to connect in so many novel and compelling ways.

We just need to win it from the domain of the geeks first.

Arts

Film: Downfall

I always feel unqualified to comment on historical films. I view them more as education than entertainment. (Although naturally I try to bear in mind the film-maker's particular slant, and that it's just one interpretation of the available evidence.)

Downfall is difficult, shocking and gripping. It successfully steers clear of stereotypical portrayals of the Second World War and is all the better for it, breathing life and complexity into characters that have too frequently been played simplistically.

Except for the last minute, the film is a reconstruction of events. But it closes with a snippet from a recent interview with Traudl Junge, Hitler's secretary on whose memoirs the film is based. We have a duty, she suggests, to find out what's really happening, to move outside a blind spot.

Personal

Ticketed

At last. Weeks of checking the Ticketmaster website on a daily basis have paid off. I've finally been able to buy tickets for Twickenham.

Personal

Be nice to nettles

The TES "Event and Assembly Planner" is our small talk starter of choice in the office. It's a calendar with all the important dates in the year marked: Easter, Father's Day, Buddha's Birthday. But there's one date that we've been waiting for particularly expectantly. And tomorrow it'll be here.

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the fifth National Be Nice to Nettles Week.

I'm doing my bit. This week when I rip out the plants that are trying to take over the bottom of my garden I'll just put them straight into the compost bucket and not torture them slowly and cruelly as I usually do.

Personal

She'll be on stage now

The Market Hill was teeming yesterday. The Woodbridge 10k always draws a crowd.

It felt like the first day of summer. The bunting fluttered with purpose; locals blinked hard as they came out of their dark hibernation; the pubs barbecued burgers in the open-air. The local community at play.

In retrospect though, I should have cooked my own lunch. To be fair, I can't be certain it was the beef. But something tied me in knots last night, causing me to wake with intense stomach pain.

I should be in Cambridge now. It'd be my first gig of the year.

Instead I'm curled up on the sofa. I hope Sue and Andrew enjoy the gig without me. And at least I have this consolation: I hear a rumour I may get another chance to see her play live before the year is out.

Angels

Buttrum's Angel

"... because if you didn't, your mill would blow up."

Somehow I found myself this morning on a guided tour of Buttrum's Mill, a tall brick windmill that features as a landmark in my directions to Angel Lane.

Ivor is my knowledgeable guide and his description of just about every device in the mill ends with the same rationale. Whether you ran out of grain or brought the stones too close; if the wind reversed direction or you brought the brake on too fast, the end result would be the same. The miller's life, I learnt, is not exactly stress free.

No wonder there, half-way up the mill, pencil-scratched-in-wood was the word "Angel" just above the signature of the last working miller, George Buttrum.

(If you have an hour or so to spare in this part of Suffolk, visit it!)

Walks

Getting out again

Distance: 9.15 miles
Ascent: 179 metres
Duration: 2 hours 33 minutes

Walk 19: Iken and Tunstall Forest

From the music of Snape
through swaying reeds
to St Botolph's past in Iken.

Then back:
the forest
the gorse
the deer.

Time.

Arts

Album: Everything Will Be Alright Tomorrow

After raving about the first single from Faithless' No Roots album last year, the album itself disappointed. So it's taken me some time to decide to risk trying the "instrumental accompaniment", Everything Will Be Alright Tomorrow.

Stripped of 95% of the vocals, this record gives room to the massive bed of music. It may not match the brilliance of Reverence, but it's a good reminder of how great this band can be.

Arts

Ip-art 05

The schedule for this year's Ipswich Arts Festival has finally been published. I think it's a bit cheeky including the R.E.M. gig at Portman Road on the programme. (Is that really part of the festival, or a happy coincidence?)

The line-up looks very interesting. It's great to see this festival growing.

Tech

Backstage

File it under "something to keep an eye on": the BBC have set up a developer network. There's not much to see at the moment, but we could be on the brink of a wave of exciting new applications based on content from this national institution.

Now if only another national institution would be similarly enlightened and free up access to its data. (After all, haven't my taxes already paid for it?)

Personal

Tired. Again.

Rosie pointed it out at the pub on Monday night. For some reason I hadn't notice. I'm shattered. Early nights for me the rest of this week.

Personal

The 31A

For three years I waited daily at Chelmsford bus depot for the 31A to take me home after school.

For the past five years I've glanced out of the train window each time I pass it, thinking back to those days of boys crowding round Bay C at the depot; of a quarter of strawberry bon-bons, of occasionally walking the three miles home so I could save the fare; of homework, of bullying, of friends long since lost.

When I looked tonight though, the scene's changed. The building's gone - just a levelled patch of earth in its place.

Time to find something else to hang my memories on.

Personal

Cat update

Phoebus waited for the rain to stop before calling round this afternoon. (Yes, the cat has a name. I'm told "Phoebe" makes a good name for a cat, but requires a little modification when the cat turns out to be a tom.)

I've now been visited every day for a week. 'Gifts' of half-chewed mice and birds can't be far off.

Personal

Always learning

It wasn't that Grandma had a peculiar way of pronouncing the word; she was dropping into her adopted language.

Today's lesson: English "saucepan" = Welsh "sospan".

I could have done with knowing this ten years ago.

Comment

Not my guy

Neither of the people I voted for yesterday got in. Annoyingly the winning county councillor was just twenty-two votes ahead of my choice. Looking at the results map I see that every constituency I've ever lived in is represented by a Conservative. Thankfully that isn't repeated across the country as a whole.

Despite the result I've resolved not to let it rest there. I lobbied my MP a couple of times over the previous term of Parliament, and having introduced myself on Tuesday to my representatives at district, county and national level I will make my voice heard more than ever before.

"That's it for another five years," is a sentiment I will not settle for.

Personal

Chocolate deprivation

I guess it should be filed under "good news". Good for finances, good for health.

The overpriced chocolate machine in the office has gone.

Will this be the event that tips me to a more healthy lifestyle?

Personal

An early summer afternoon

The best way to combat today's rain was to think back to Monday.

There are few better places to spend an early summer afternoon than in a rowing boat on Thorpeness Meare. If you've never been, you owe it to yourself to head out to Suffolk's greatest and most eccentric treasure.

Perfect for daydreaming.

Comment

The hustings

Two days before the election and about twenty people gathered in the church hall to quiz the Conservative Parliamentary Candidate for Suffolk Coastal. I was easily the youngest person there.

My opinion of John Gummer improved when he responded that Fair Trade was a very good thing, something we should all get behind - much to the annoyance of the district councillor at the other end of the platform who argued the opposite last November.

I was disappointed after the meeting though, when he seemed to veer close to political mud-slinging after I thanked him for opposing invading Iraq.

The evening may not have changed my plans for Thursday, but it's certainly made me feel better informed in my decision.

Personal

To the children of our village

The hand-written note attached to the visitors' book in Kelsale church deserves reproducing in full. It reads,

To the,
children of our village,

This book is for visitors to the
church from other towns to sign,
please don't sign every time you visit.
Keep coming here to Jesus' home in
Kelsale, please

love,
Reg
Ch. Warden

Personal

How can you say "no"?

No, it doesn't belong to me and I don't belong to it.

For the past two evenings, next-door's playful cat has decided to extend its territory to my house. We've just about managed to limit his explorations to the kitchen, and despite the fact that he makes my eyes go a little puffy if I get too close, he's proving very difficult to say "no" to.

Having said that, the way he's currently camping out on my back doorstep is just a little excessive (but very cute).