Greenbelt

Right at home

The guys at Iona wanted to make us Greenbelters feel at home. So they relabelled their toilets 'portaloos'. Thankfully that was the extent of the remodelling; we weren't required to use stand pipes in a field for washing.

Walks

Iona Pilgrimage

Distance: 7.24 miles
Ascent: 549 metres
Duration: 5 hours 36 minutes

Around the island

Ordinarily a circuit of this length would take two and a half hours or so. Stopping at significant places for readings, thoughts and songs more than doubled that time and increased the sense of time and place immeasurably. This organised weekly walk is by far the best way to see the island.

Greenbelt

Iona

Six trains, two taxis, two tubes, two ferries and one bus later we're at our journey's end.

Arts

Film: Mission: Impossible III

Hard to believe: it's been two months since I was last at the cinema. And in that time The Riverside Theatre has put a new dress on: check out the modern, elegant sign above the door.

Emma suggested the reason for my absence is that I'm being more selective about the films I watch. It's a good theory, utterly destroyed by tonight's choice.

I can see how Mission: Impossible III ticks all the right boxes of its genre, but ultimately it left me far from satisfied. It's a horribly violent film. I can cope with a depiction of violence that is comical or way over-the-top but this was on the wrong side of mercenary for my liking.

Coastwalk

The end of the coast

For the past twelve weeks I've been watching an episode of the BBC's Coast programme every Sunday night. Last night I travelled with the presenters from The Wash round to Dover - the only one of their segments which I've walked in entirety.

It's been a fantastic series, telling stories of people and places that are often overlooked. The frequent sweeping aerial views provide glimpses of hundreds of shared secrets: the long sweep of Shingle Street, the towers at Reculver, the ferries waltzing in Dover harbour.

The series book is a worthwhile read too. Its chapters break the coastline into the same segments as the series, but that's the end of the similarities. Each medium tells different stories, picks different places and has a different tone.

Both are great souvenirs of my walk. Both tempt me to revisit places I've been to before. The striped cliffs of Hunstanton are famous, but walking along the tops I passed their layers of bold geology without noticing.

Thank goodness that although my twelve week armchair voyage is over, I've barely scratched the surface of the real thing.

Arts

Someone's been reading The Manual

Let's see... intro, chorus, verse, chorus, chorus, outro... groove... everything about the performance. It's clear LT United wanted to have a number one the easy way. ("Lyrics: you will need some, but not many.")

Has there been a more faithful execution of the Cauty/Drummond method?

Such a shame it didn't win.

Greenbelt

Architecture

A while ago I was thinking about the art forms that aren't represented at Greenbelt. Architecture was top of my list. After all, it's not easy to transport a building for exhibition at a festival.

Today I'm more convinced than ever that we're missing out on some beautiful artistic creations. Do you think we could borrow this ten metre glass cube for the weekend? It'd provide a fantastic contrast to the Tiny Tea Tent.

Arts

Three minute pop songs

If you're wondering what happened to all the three minute pop songs you'll find a good number of them in Brighton. Or more specifically, coming out of the mouths of The Pipettes.

Like the Bill Drummond produced "Disco 2000" they're an update of 60s girl-groups. They want to "turn back the clock to a time before The Beatles ruined everything". They wear polka dots. Their tunes are just a little catchy.

Oh, and they know about the New Piccadilly. Do you need any more reasons to check them out?

The summer starts here.

Personal

Uncove(red)

Flicking through today's (RED) Independent what jumped out most wasn't the editorial content but the adverts. An advertisement for the Co-op's Internet bank was sandwiched between Action Aid and Christian Aid. Later Oxfam and Cafédirect sat comfortably with promotions for various Product RED offerings.

What really jarred was the airbrushed model on page six trying to persuade readers to buy branded perfume. The image seemed so out of place - almost an anachronism.

There amidst articles and adverts that focussed on co-operation, charity and community was a single self-centered sales-pitch. Its placement may have been accidental but it served as an effective reminder of who I want to be: someone who helps build the world, not just consume it.

Personal

Proud

The campaign continues. Today's major objective: the garden.

Mum brought a car-load of tools this morning and did a remarkable job of cleaning the moss from the patio and levelling out the mountain of earth that my neighbour dumped at the bottom of my garden a year ago. She also managed to fit back together the jigsaw remnants of the wall and even conjured up a rag-and-bone man at just the right moment.

All this while I slowly repainted the kitchen. Anyone thinking of buying a cottage with exposed beams: yes they look great but they're an absolute pain to paint around. Especially on the ceiling. No longer do I have a unicycle tyre mark on the kitchen ceiling. (No longer do I remember how it got there.)

Back in the garden, with the wall now slightly lower than before we used the remaining bricks to frame a new path down to the road. The finished job almost looks professional. To top it all off there are now a pair of tubs either side of the front doorstep to welcome potential buyers off the road.

It's been a hard day, but I feel very proud of the results. I should have done this long ago.

Personal

The bee and wasp 'firm'

I got home today to find a dozey wasp on my pillow. It's the third this week. At first I was gentle with them, carefully moving them to the outside window ledge. But now I'm worried. Have I done something to offend some senior bee such that he's sending 'the boys' round?

Here and now the fight-back begins. Starting tonight I sleep with a can of Rentokill by my side.

Greenbelt

Stumped

I'm stumped. I've been asked to lead a workshop at the end of the month on blogging. There will likely be no Internet access and no computers available (not even my laptop). I'd like to say "yes", but in the twenty-four hours since I was asked I haven't been able to think of an angle.

Last time around the 'paper blog' idea had limited success - it got the concept across, but didn't extend itself outside the confines of the session as I had hoped.

This time I think I need to go deeper too. Most people will be aware of blogs in general. Maybe I need something to do with the language and the community of blogging.

So in the spirit of laziness collaborative research, dear readers, do you have any ideas?

Personal

Hurray for Brasso!

Now we know why no-one ever keeps their brass house numbers nice and shiny. It takes one heck of a lot of effort, the chemicals stink and it's dirty work. On the other hand, the results are fantastic.

The only problem is the beautifully reflective door knob and freshly painted door are rather effectively highlighting the shoddy paintwork on the door frame. Once that's tackled will it in turn lead to refreshing the Suffolk pink walls? Place your bets now.

Angels

Turning out the tat

The continuing story of readying a house for sale involves the inevitable throwing out of tat.

I'm not sure where I picked this fella up. I think he was given to me one festival when I was running the Angels venue. He's sat gathering dust in my kitchen ever since. And tomorrow, he begins a new life starting at my local Oxfam.

Personal

Brake harder

Here's an oddity. Apparently, if you're the middle car in a three-car shunt, any damage resulting from the collision between your car and the one in front is your fault. Never mind if you were stationary when hit from behind. Or if you deliberately braked less hard than you could, in order to give the car behind more time and distance to slow down. Forget the fact that it was the momentum of that car which propelled yours onto the bumper of the one in front. It's your fault.

Presumably you'd also be responsible if someone pushed your parked (and empty) car into another.

I'd find this funny if it was entirely theoretical. Unfortunately as of five to five last Friday evening it wasn't. Remind me why we even bother with insurance companies.

Angels

Either side of the river

Emma and I have been house-hunting today. Or rather, we've driven up and down half the roads around Reading trying to find a good community to live in.

Stopped at the traffic lights we saw what you might call a 'sign': The Angel Inn. Better still, the other side of the river stood the Little Angel Inn.

If the river wasn't The Thames and if the town wasn't Henley we might even have popped into an estate agent. Instead we drove on. (Some might consider 'Henley' to be a prestigious address. I think I'd just consider it an embarrassment.)