#21. Written By A Ghostwriter – There’s a Hole in my Bucket by Royd Tolkien (Kindle)

This is another of my forgotten Amazon First Reads – this time from July 2021. I picked this book because of the Tolkien name, but I knew it wasn’t going to be anything like the Lord of the Ring books due the difficult and sensitive subject matter. I did think it would be a harrowing but interesting read and would be treated with suitable gravitas. I was wrong.

 

“Having grown up on their great-grandfather’s stories, Royd Tolkien and his brother, Mike, have always enjoyed adventures. So when Mike is diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease, the brothers decide to use the time they have left to tick off as much as possible from Mike’s bucket list, from remote camping in Norway to travelling through Royd’s beloved New Zealand.

Yet, when Royd loses Mike, he discovers his brother had been writing another kind of bucket list: fifty things he wanted Royd to do after his death. His first task? Mike wants his mild-mannered brother to trip up on his way to the lectern to deliver his eulogy. What follows is a set of emotionally charged tests that will push Royd firmly out of his comfort zone.

This is the story of Royd’s journey to accomplish a challenging, humorous, and often heart-breaking list of unknown tasks that chart the brothers’ lives from childhood to adulthood. But above all, it is a story of the sibling bond, of grief—and of treasuring every moment.”

 

Due to the subject matter, I really wanted to be more positive about this book, but I found it hard to keep engaged reading, so I could only read a couple of the short chapters each evening until I eventually got to the end. The 357 pages seem to go on forever.

I cannot imagine how hard it would be to watch my adventurous brother become ill, health gradually declining, desperate to find an answer from doctors to what is wrong, only to finally be told it was Motor Neurone Disease. It doesn’t bear thinking about, and I wouldn’t wish that sort of suffering on anyone, but this book just feels like a self-indulgent bit of therapy cashing in on the Tolkien name.

It is clear from the book that Royd and Mike loved one another dearly but were very different people. Mike might have been the younger brother, but he would tease Royd mercilessly and always push that little bit further; whether it was how high he could climb a tree or how high he could throw himself out of an airplane, Mike always had to get the better of Royd who didn’t share the same bon homie as his brother, he seemed happier with his feet on the ground with a cuppa.

#8. Feature’s The Ocean – Mr Peacock’s Possessions by Lydia Syson (Paperback)

I was in a second-hand bookshop last year, and my friend picked up this book and asked if I'd read it. I hadn't, she recommended it wholeheartedly. I sometimes find historical fiction a bit dull to read, however, the cover captured my attention, my friend recommended it and the blurb on the back cover sounded interesting enough; for £1.00 I wasn’t going to argue!

 

“Oceania, 1879.

 

For two years the Peacocks, a determined family of settlers, have struggled to make a remote volcanic island their home. At last, a ship appears. The six Pacific Islanders on board have travelled over eight hundred miles in search of new horizons.
Hopes are high, until a vulnerable boy vanishes.

In their search for the lost child, settlers and newcomers together uncover far more than they were looking for. The island's secrets force young Lizzie Peacock to question her deepest convictions, and slowly this tiny, fragile community begins to fracture ...”

 

Lydia Syson is known for her young adult fiction which explore less familiar historical events such as the 1871 Paris Commune in “Liberty’s Fire” and Battle of Britain Polish pilots in “That Burning Summer.”  It is said that you should write about what you know, and for her debut adult novel, she has explored the history of her husband’s family, for a remarkable tale built on a solid foundation of facts and real events, showing the lengths a family will go to for survival.

Mr Joseph Peacock has decided to move his family from New Zealand to a remote uninhabited Pacific Island, hundreds of miles away from any other human civilisation. At the start of the novel there are six children, Ada, Albert, Billy, Queenie, Gussy and a baby, Joseph, who is born on the island. Albert is expected to be a big, strong man who can help his father, but instead he is a vulnerable child who fears his father and his temper. Fifteen year-old Lizzie can fulfil many of the demands that Albert can not face, and she appears to do no wrong in her father’s eyes.

“This island will change everything for the family. ... Land. That’s the important things. That’s what a man needs to survive. To take his place in history. To keep his name. The land will be our future. Your future.”

Since moving to the island, exhaustion and hunger has set in. The captain who brought them here has sailed away, promising that he will return in three months. After he leaves, they realise that all the provisions he left them with were rotten and it dawns on them they will never see him again. They will have to rely on foraging and tending the land to grow food, otherwise they will starve to death. This is not the romantic Utopia that Joseph Peacock had dreamt of as he led his family to this small volcanic island. Their adventure is turning into a nightmare as each day passes and the island’s dark secrets are slowly emerging.

As the family’s hope of ever seeing other human life wanes, some Polynesian Islanders arrive to assist with clearing the land and planting food, a commodity now in scarce supply. They have been travelling for over eight hundred miles in search of work and new opportunities and they relish the challenges ahead. Perhaps these outsiders will be the answer to the Peacock’s prayers to finally turn the island into a paradise the family can enjoy.

Lizzie thinks the arrival of the kanakas (native workers) will be an opportunity to start all over again, and their hard work does begin to tame the harsh landscape into something more manageable. Of the new arrivals, Solomona is a teacher and pastor, whilst his brother Kalala dreams that they will one day return home and their family will be proud of their achievements. Kalala, is unsettled by Joseph’s quick temper, and when Albert disappears, a spectacular turn of events takes place to fracture this fragile community, as feelings of mistrust are centred on the newcomers. 

“Lizzie stops trusting herself. She begins to doubt the island. Its noises have not changed but now she is alone in the forest Lizzie hears them freshly. Birds whose unremarkable cries have kept her company on hunting expeditions for nearly two years squawk like frightened children among the fleshy leaves of mouse-hole trees, whose branches meet high above her head. She catches something of Albert’s voice; misrecognition pierces her just below the ribs. The air itself feels violent, as though the island is gathering itself for something. She imagines it breathing, heaving, maybe shifting.”

Lizzie is remarkable character who shares the narrative with Kalala in a portrait of family life, cast adrift to survive this unforgiving landscape. The duel perspective is also combined with a “before and now” narrative, so we embark with the family on their journey to the island and realise that they endured a great deal before even setting foot on the island.

Walks in Mysterious Cheshire and Wirral by Tony Bowerman (Walk 10 - Little Budworth)

“Fancy doing a walk Saturday or Sunday?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”

“I thought we could do a walk in Little Budworth and hopefully find a spot by the lake for a picnic.”

In Norman times, much of Cheshire was covered by four forests. To the west was Wirral Forest which had been substantially cleared, Macclesfield Forest covered the east Pennine slopes, whilst the central part of Cheshire was covered by the forests of Mara (now Delamere) and Mondrum. Back in those times, forests were no more than wastelands which were protected by laws so that the privileged may hunt in them. The forests were a patchwork of mixed oak woodlands and open lowland heath dotted with meres. Up until the 14^th century, wolf packs could be found hunting amongst the cover of the trees, and both red and fallow deer grazed the lands until they were hunted out during the 17^th century Civil War. Rare birds such as merlins, hobbys and sparrowhawks graced the skies, whilst swarms of bees gathered nectar for honey. Until the 1800s, Little Budworth was called Budworth-Le-Frith, from the Welsh for woodland ffridd. By the 17^th century, as the forests were cleared and settlements began to spring up, Mondrum was no longer forest…that is, apart from the most worthless part, Little Budworth Common. This was the last vestige of the forest to remain standing, and this was where today’s walk was going take us.

For once, the guidebook showed what looked like an ample sized carpark. This didn’t stop me from driving straight past it, and having looked in my rear-view mirror, I screeched to a halt and reversed back up the road to turn into it. Kate arrived shortly after, and after dancing around the carpark with the “are we, are we not allowed to do huggy hello’s” nonsense, we got our walking boots on and checked what the book said about the start of the walk.

“From the car park, go through a narrow gap in the fence, on the opposite side of the car park to the toilets, and walk past the large sculptured chair.”

“Ermmmm, I can’t see a fence” I stated. “When it says opposite the toilets, does it mean like directly opposite…or does it mean where that large wooden board is that’s kinda to the right of the toilets??” Kate looked non the wiser and just shrugged. Hmm…. “let’s go investigate the big wooden board” I suggested. (Oh this walk was going brilliantly, we couldn’t even find our way out of the car park!) “I think we should go in here” I suggested, and a few metres later I suddenly spied a large sculptured chair and nearly wet myself with excitement. Suddenly I felt like Anneka Rice on Treasure Hunt. All was not lost and it seemed neither were we, as we strode off confidently on the start of our 3 mile walk around the village of Little Budworth.

Travels with my Aunt by Graham Greene (Audible)

Graham Greene is possibly best known for his seminal works like "The Power and The Glory," "Brighton Rock" and "The Third Man." I can’t pretend to be an authority on his work, I read "Brighton Rock" whilst still at school; I’ve never read "The Third Man" but enjoyed the filmed version starring Joseph Cotton and Orson Welles. I don't know why I chose to listen to this specific book, I came across it and it seemed like a release from the pandemic lockdowns...if I can't travel for real, I can travel via a book!

Greene apparently wrote "Travels With my Aunt" as a bit of fun and a departure from his normal style of writing. His work often involved fragile, flawed characters that found themselves in distant lands; so this novel is no different in that respect, however, it’s impossible to try to tie Greene down to one stylistic genre. For those who have read nothing by Greene before, this humoristic jaunt in "Travels With My Aunt" is not like many of his other writings which are very dark, although there remain traces of darkness in this book which give an interesting insight into the authors character.

She is a rebel, he a conformist.

Henry Pulling is a single, retired bank manager; a straightforward, honest man, whose greatest pleasure is growing dahlias in his garden. He is a man who lives a quiet and sheltered type of life, who has seldom left the British shore he was born on. It is at his mother’s funeral that he encounters his long-lost Aunt Augusta, a formidable woman, equally glamourous and eccentric, who has rather a bombshell to deliver Henry whom she has not seen for over fifty years.

Walks in Mysterious Cheshire and Wirral by Tony Bowerman (Walk 5 - Willington)

With lockdown seemingly starting to ease and vistors being allowed back into the country (Wales) my friend Kate, popped over for the weekend. We did a quick afternoon walk (3 miles) around a village near me called Hope. (Live in Hope, die in Caergwrle as the old saying goes…the two villages are adjacent to one another and this saying has been used since at least the 19th century!) Anyway – unbeknown to me, Hope has a heritage park “Park in the Past” and whilst it was still closed due to Covid restrictions, Kate and I took a walk along the public footpath that surrounds the park which was still open. It’s a place I will be heading back to in due course at it looks rather beautiful and the field at the end of the walk was just teaming with swifts or swallows skirting over the grass catching insects. An absolute surprise and treat to watch so I grabbed a quick video on my 'phone. Not the best quality, but I hadn't expected to come upon such a wonderful sight! 

Sunday was another dry day and I thought it would be a good idea to do another walk from Tony Bowerman’s book. (If you haven’t read about our first walk – click on the link)

Following the Victorians to Little Switzerland

As travel abroad is a bit hit or miss at the moment, Kate and I followed in the footsteps of the Victorians and took a trip to Little Switzerland, deep in the Cheshire Countryside at Willington.

Willington has been known by a myriad of names over the centuries. It was derived from the name of the first settlor recorded in the area, Wynflaeda. In the Doomsday book the name had changed to Winfletone and in Norman times it was called Wylaton. In the 1840’s the railway line from Manchester to Chester opened and the Victorian city workers took the opportunity to escape to the countryside.

Willington sits on a sandstone ridge, the “backbone of Cheshire.” 50% of the ridge is of great ecological and historical value as it has remained relatively undisturbed. Photographs taken during our walk do not look much different to the photographs taken 100 years ago. There are six hillforts which are situated along the length including the one at Willington, Kelsborrow Castle. This hillfort was built to exploit the natural defences the area of land held and Neolithic axes have been found at the site, suggesting that it was an important site long before the Iron Age fort was built. 

Victorian tourists walked the path up to the fort in an area known as Little Switzerland due its far-reaching views of the Clwydian Mountain Range, Peckforton Hill and the Mersey and Dee estuaries. Wherever you stand in the village, you are afforded stunning views, but views like that require some effort, and whilst the walk is only 3 miles long…approximately 2/3^rds of the walk requires walking up a gentle ascent. (Thank goodness we walked the route we did – the opposite way round would have been a killer!)

We parked in the centre of the village in a little bay at Willington Corner/Chapel Lane. If people can be bothered to park their vehicles correctly, there should be ample space for about 20 cars, however, as there are no white lines, the idiot/lazy fraternity just dumped their car and left. When I arrived there was only one space left which was a tight squeeze, but I managed to reverse in leaving sufficient space at the front of both mine and idiot drivers vehicle, so all parties could get in and out without damaging either car. Fortunately, as we were about to walk up the road, someone else appeared who was heading home, so I waited a few minutes and moved into their spot…this meant I could enjoy my walk without being anxious about the apparent inability to drive of the person that had been next to me!

A short walk up hill took us towards the sheltered, south-west facing fields of the market gardens where in the 20^th century crops of hard and soft fruits could be seen growing. Fruit has certainly been seen growing on the slopes of Willington Hall since the 1940s, and apples, strawberries and blackcurrants thrived in the fertile soils, whilst damsons grew in the hedgerows. The fruit was sold at the local markets in Chester, Frodsham, Knutsford, Liverpool and Manchester. Despite the popularity and quality of the fruit, the nearby Eddisbury Fruit Farm has since closed its doors, and the area was very quiet when we walked past where Winsors Fruit Farm and shop was supposed to be.

In keeping with the area, we turned into Gooseberry Lane, not named after the fruit farms which didn’t appear until after WWII, and continued heading upwards towards the are known as Little Switzerland. As we stopped to catch our breath and move out of the way of a red car, we could see the spectacular views that had caused Victorians to gasp in awe. As we headed further up the road, we were greeted by the driver of the red car, a sweet old lady who lived in one of the cottages on the steep bank. We stood and chatted to her for a while as she told us about the area and where the best views were. The cottages were built from the 1860s onwards; many of which have been enlarged from the original rural workers cottages they once were. The cottagers were wily souls and would clear out a bedroom to offer it out as a B&B for the visitors that had made their way from the station in a horse-drawn cart.

As Gooseberry Lane came to an abrupt end, we followed a narrow, raised path between someone’s house and garden. The path seems to hang in the air, as to the left the land falls away, and an area called Boothsdale comes into view. As we drew towards the top of the path, we remembered the words of the lady we had been talking to and stopped to take in the views. She was right, if you wait until you reach the top, the trees obscure the far reaching views…this spot was perfect, and gave us a little breather before negotiating the wooded steps carved into the woodland, that would take us towards Kelsborrow Castle.

Up Dick’s Mount

Open pasture greets you as you leave the shade of the trees. This unassuming area of green has had a chequered history. This is where the promontory fort of Kelsborrow Castle would have stood. Centuries of ploughing have left it difficult to see where the ramparts would have been on the enclosure. Excavations in 1973 revealed that the rampart had been revetted with timber, and the earthen bank was reinforced with timber also. The original width of the rampart was 4 metres and the ditch had been dug 8.5 metres in front of the rampart. Today, the bank stands about half a metre high and spread across an area 30 metres wide. Despite this, you can still get a sense of the scale of the fort.

Electric fences now keep grazing cattle off the public footpath, but years ago this area of Castle Hill was a stud farm for shire horses. John Kenworthy first registered a stallion on the site back in 1898 and all the horses were prefixed with the name Delamere. The stallions were taken to Delamere railway station and transported to Chester, Helsby and The Wirral for their services. A standing stone was removed from the field in the 19^th Century, but local lore suggests that its origin was less prehistoric and more likely the marker for a prized stallions grave. The last recorded stud fee was fifty shillings back in 1935. This was the end of the line for the Kenworthy Shires, but not all is lost in the Shire horse world – three miles down the road at Cotebrook lies the Cotebrook Shire Horse Centre where this beautiful breed is continuing to be bred successfully.  https://cotebrookshirehorses.co.uk/

During World War II, the RAF placed a communications aerial to the right of Dick’s Mount, as this elevated position was perfect for receiving signals. Its exposed position meant that locals had to be especially vigilant during black outs. A light from this area could be seen as far away as the Welsh border and be prone to attack. Standing there, it did make me think about today’s society. How would people cope with such orders? Seeing as how folk are loath to even wear a mask to protect each other, I suspect black out’s would have been an infringement of their liberty and to hell with everyone.

Pushing my cynicism to one side, we continued past the cows and into a small wooded area to come out on a green with a lake. People were sat having a picnic on the grass, casually watching the world go by as Kate and I starred at the map. It advised us we would emerge on Quarry Bank Lane and to turn right and follow the lane uphill. There was no Quarry Bank Lane, certainly no signs for it, and did right mean the road at the top that disappeared to the right…or did it mean turn right past the lake. There was no lake mentioned in the guidebook. There was no Quarry Bank Lane on Google either. We decided we would do option 1 – the road that disappeared to the right. As we walked down it, none of the house names mentioned in our guidebook appeared, although some beautiful mansions that no doubt cost at east a million pounds loomed into view. After about a quarter of mile, we decided that we couldn’t be heading uphill…neither of us were out of breath. We turned around and scurried back, past the people at the lake, and the road started to climb. (Also the names of the houses in the book appeared which was a blessed relief…we didn’t want to head back to the lake and start asking people where the hell we were.)

The Urchin’s Kitchen

At the crest of a hill (I wish I’d read the route before we started) we saw a carpark (🙄) which took us into Primrosehill Wood. The route took us down a bridleway which was straddled with wild raspberry canes on either side. They looked a little pat their best and so we continued through the woods and onto the route known as the Sandstone Trail. Just off the path, we took a small detour into a sandstone gorge filled with rhododendrons and pine trees. Hidden within the tree this was the atmospheric Urchin’s Kitchen, a glacial drainage channel formed at the close of the last Ice Age. As the climate warmed, meltwater under immense pressure scoured out the 20-30 foot deep gorge, enlarging the natural weakness in the Triassic sandstone.

Obviously, we had to take a closer inspection, looking down into the gorge wasn’t an option…there’s no point going on a walk unless you can do a bit of exploring.  I probably should have been banned from reading The Famous Five as a child, anyway, despite both of us doing this walk in trainers rather than hiking boots…and it has been a bit wet lately, we strode through the undergrowth and into the gorge. This was where a pair of welly boots would have been most welcome, as the pair of us tried to daintily(?!) cross bits of fallen logs in a bid to not be knee deep in mud. At some point Kate saw sense and gave up whilst I tried to go further in. The mud however was getting deeper and stickier…and there was a group of people at the far end who I’m sure would have laughed like a drain had I fallen into what was turning into swamp. I trudged back to Kate and we negotiated the logs back to the Sandstone Trail.

Now you maybe asking why the area is called the Urchin’s Kitchen. I have no idea, although it is suggested that as the Middle English name for a hedgehog was an urchin, as when in curled up with its spines showing, it looked like a sea urchin. This may have been an area where hedgehogs used to hibernate because it was sheltered and full of autumn leaves.

Time for Tea

We headed through the woods and onto open farmland, here the guidebook advised “the path emerges on Tirley Lane beside Summertrees Tearoom and Garden – an attractive family run café that welcomes walkers.” Perfect I thought, as both of us had nearly run out of water and a loo break is always welcome. I did wonder whether Covid might have put paid to the place being open, but you can always hope. We walked past a very much closed “tearoom.” There were no signs confirming that this was ever the place and that, I realised, was one problem of using a guide book that hasn’t been revised and updated since 2006. As it turned out, it wasn;t Covid that had closed the tearoom, the place, whilst appearing rather popular in online reviews, had closed circa 2013/14. This was the only issue completing the walk, the village of Willington has no amenities except for the Boot Inn and Willington Hall hotel neither of which cross this walking route. Even the post office, churches, school and community rooms have long gone and been converted into houses, so it was a timely reminder that if we tried any of the longer walks in the book, to check them out carefully before we started and to ensure we had snacks and drinks with us!

At this point we were on Roughlow Lane (the name suggestive of a Bronze Age burial mound or similar nearby – again showing the prehistoric routes of the village) and the walking was sharply downhill back to where we started. As we headed further downhill on the pavementless winding road (pavements are pretty much non-existent) we remarked how grateful we were not to have had to climb this route. We took a moment to remember the Italian prisoners of war who in 1946, were recruited to rebuild a wall and repair the damage of a steam roller belonging to the County Council which had toppled over the side of Roughlow, taking a section of the road with it. I couldn’t help but chuckle too…I work as a contractor with a County Council and the standard of driving hasn’t really improved much in all those years!

Walks in Mysterious Cheshire and Wirral by Tony Bowerman (Walk 11 - Whitegate)

Having spent the last three hundred thousand, thirty four, nine hundred and seventy four thousand days on home turf since lockdown started, it was with unbridled joy that I jumped into my car on Saturday, (1^st weekend where Welsh residents were allowed more than 5 miles from home) drove 23 miles into England, met my friend Kate and we had a ramble in the sunshine.

It was wonderful to meet up in real life rather than on a Zoom meeting but our first walk of the year came with a few caveats. Firstly, it had to be a gentle breaking in walk, not one of my usual “oh it’s not very far,” cue 15 miles later getting very threatening looks off what is likely to be a soon ex-friend if I don’t find the car again very soon after proclaiming “don’t worry, I sort of know where we are!” Secondly, the walk would not consist of clambering up any large hills…something I wasn’t going to argue with….I’ve been sat on a sofa eating cake for four months. I can easily roll down a hill, getting up one without the aid of oxygen and a winch would be trickier. Thirdly, we’ve had a lot of rain, so the book of canal walks would probably be a no-go…also there’s not much room on a towpath to steer clear of folk whilst we’re still in the middle of a pandemic.

As I started to despair that none of the walks I had in my books were suitable, I stumbled across this book from 2006 – “Walks in Mysterious Cheshire and Wirral by Tony Bowerman.” The book contains fourteen easy to follow circular walks, mainly in Cheshire, covering a variety of landscapes.

The landscape of Cheshire is a land steeped in mystery and has been used as a backdrop for many works of literature. Alderley Edge is perhaps best known as the landscape for Alan Garner’s “The Wierdstone of Brisingamen,” a children’s fantasy novel influenced by the folklore of the area. In this walking book, Tony Bowerman has put together walks of interest, not just visually, but historically too, and each walk comes with it’s own unique stories from the past. The walker can follow lost Roman and medieval roads, ancient copper mines, a stone elephant, a gypsy king’s grave, a ghostly duck, and much more.

Walk 11 – Whitegate: Where Vale Royal Abbey stood.

I picked walk 11 as it was equidistant for us both to reach. (It was also flat, only 3 miles long, and covered a variety of landscapes…woodland, fields and a river.) I sent across all the details to Kate and we agreed on our rendezvous. We were onto a good start when I arrived and realised that there was very limited parking (about 5 spaces) so we had a quick look at the neighbourhood, found a road we could safely park on and finally we set off on our way to St Mary’s Church where the walk commenced.

Given the Boot

As people wave a fond farewell to 2019, I for one will be celebrating its departure with great gusto. I thought 2018 was a trying year; my father-in-law lost his valiant battle with cancer and supposed close and trusted friends needed to be disposed of. It transpired that 2019 had much of the same in store. My beloved cat Gerrard and a close friend both passed from Leukaemia; there was another “friend” who I had to let go of and with the demands of watching someone close battle with dementia, my resilience waned and I reached the stage towards the end of August where the time and demands of writing the blog became untenable.

I became fed up of all the toxicity surrounding me, I knew from previous blog posts throughout last year and this one it was starting to eat away at me and the best way to deal with such things is to go to the source of the problem…cut whatever is making you unhappy and angry off, and concentrate on moving forwards with things that bring joy to the soul. Instead of reading the nonsense on Twitter and Facebook that aggravates me, I turned to spending what precious time I had, rummaging through my bookcase and settling down with a good book and a pot of tea!

Don Carlos (Take Two) – Rose Theatre, Kingston upon Thames

Q. What do Paddington Bear and Tom Burke have in common?

A. They both reduced me to a sobbing, emotional mess in the same week.  (Oh don’t tell me you didn’t sniffle when Paddington was in prison.)

After the last night of Don Carlos, I was fortunate to grab a few words with Tom. I told him he’d made me cry. He said, “that’s a good thing isn’t it?” And yes, I must confess that it was. 

Like a young red wine, Don Carlos had been allowed to breathe into a full-bodied performance. It had become injected full of character, passion, power and emotion that it had sometimes lacked in Exeter. The basis of a fantastic production was there for all to see, (bar the eejit at The Times) and whilst I thoroughly enjoyed it at Exeter, the initial performances were perfectly quaffable, but a bit acidic at times.

As I noted in my previous review, the pace of the dialogue was killing some elements of the play. I spoke to Ali about it and begged her not to take offence, but I felt that the scene between her and Sam Valentine as Princess Eboli and Don Carlos in the bed chamber ended up becoming a screaming match as they tried their best to deliver the lines at the fast pace Gadi Roll had directed them to do. If you listened carefully, you could hear all the words, but the subtle nuances of Schiller’s text were lost as too much concentration was being used on what was being said. I used the analogy of when you go for a gallop on a horse and you suddenly realise, you’re no longer in control. A quick check on the reins slows the horse just enough for the exhilarating pace to remain, but for control to come back to the rider. That’s what I felt had happened at Kingston; a slight reduction of pace allowed for the comic situation of two people with their wires crossed to filter through to the audience. It allowed the light and shade of the situation to sweep through the scene, giving the rest of the production a sense of foreboding that had been alluded to in the very first scene by Posa himself!

Now that’s how theatre is supposed to make you feel.

Saturday was the day of the most exemplary performances of Don Carlos yet, the matinee seemed to have everything thrown at it.  I tried to sniffle inconspicuously throughout the second half as Posa made his final speech to the Queen. People who had got bored and went home in the interval missed some of the most enthralling scenes I’ve witnessed on stage. Even reminiscing about them makes me draw breath to compose myself again.

The pace that had killed the two handers between the Duke of Alba and Domingo had gone. Both Jason Morrell and Vinta Morgan brought eloquence and power into their performances which was missing every time they turned their backs to the audience in Exeter. Their words had previously been hard to catch, and the role they played in the story was lost, but here in Kingston they were word perfect and the relationship between the two felt more meaningful.

Tom Burke’s Posa and & Darrell D’Silva’s King continued to shine. They were powerful and thought-provoking, and I was gripped every time they took command of that stage together. So much so, that when it came to the final curtain call, I had to give the cast a standing ovation. For me a standing ovation is a rare thing, it’s like when Craig Revel Horwood dusts off his 10 paddle on Strictly Come Dancing!

Photo via Jordan Lever (Babes) on Twitter

This was a brave and ultimately brilliant production. I may have given it a Len Goodman 7 at the start of the run, but its emotional climax was worthy of a 10. I think ARA set themselves up with a complex piece for their stage debut, but the hard work and determination of a strong cast has heralded an exciting future for the theatre company which I’m looking forward to seeing grow.

Stop! Thief!

I ended up seeing the play four times in Kingston. In hindsight, had I not originally been part of a group going to see the play, I would probably have only gone to watch it on the Saturday, but I’m pleased I did watch it when I did, as each night led to a different experience. The extra time in Kingston also allowed me to explore the area and broaden my horizons with a visit to the local museum and a day out at Hampton Court Palace. My Thursday night at the theatre I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but I will relay what happened on here as a word of warning to other theatre goers, as I suspect most of us feel drama only happens on the theatre stage!

Despite it being November, it was still cardigan weather, so I just chucked my purse, phone and book into my cardi pockets and headed to the theatre. I wrapped everything into a ball and placed my cardi under my seat. During the performance, the ladies sat behind me started talking (loudly.) People were shushing them, but they persisted. At times, when the actors were on stage, they sighed loudly and said “boring” at the tops of their voices. I was surprised that the actors did not flinch, and that shows the level of professionalism they displayed to be able to continue. At one point, the woman behind me started stroking my back. I jumped from my seat, gave her daggers and carried on watching the play. There was a loud crash and more shushing, and eventually we came to the interval. They got up and left. I then realised they’d left with my cardi and all my belongings.

To cut a long story short I loudly drew attention to the fact my belongings had been stolen and I ran to a member of staff to explain. In the meantime, two gentlemen had seen what the women looked like and were keeping track of them. They found me and said they were outside, but as I followed them, the women had gone. I had been joined by a member of theatre staff as the men turned and said, “they’re getting into that taxi.” “Oh no you bloody don’t” I thought, and I ran towards the taxi screaming something original like “Stop! Thief!”

As I pinned both women at the door of the taxi I screamed “where are my things?” but they denied everything, even when I grabbed my cardigan out of one of the women’s hands. The pockets were empty, and as they stood looking at me stunned, I continued to demand all my stuff back. I presume people thought I had the matter in hand or they were just too damned scared of the bad tempered woman hurling abuse at these drunken thieves. Because that’s what they were, either that or drugs, whatever…they clearly weren’t on the same planet as me. I retrieved half of my belongings off one woman and half off the other. Both still maintaining innocence, despite me describing my stuff to the theatre lady and then pulling it out of their handbags myself.

I perhaps should have dragged them both to the police station opposite the theatre (yes really) but I couldn’t see that would achieve much, other than me missing the second half of the play…so I collected all my stuff and returned to my seat. I offered to buy the chaps who had helped me a drink at the end of the show, not realising the bar would be shut afterwards…but I suppose it’s the thought that counts!

Someone said to me “they chose the wrong person to pick on there” and I agreed, but actually, I think they chose the right person; imagine if they’d done that to one of the older members of the audience. I’ve had to learn to stand up for myself. If I ever tried the “woe is me” technique of guilting empathy out of someone it always backfired; I was told to pull myself together, and I suppose that gave me the backbone to be the intolerant, bloody-minded person I am today!  

The second half of Don Carlos was enjoyable, but I probably wasn’t in the right frame of mind to get the most out of what I was seeing. I looked forward to heading back to the peace and tranquillity of my hotel room, getting an early night and walking to Hampton Court Palace the next morning.

Tom Burke has done more for my education than school ever did!

© 2018 Sioux

A dreary day…not good for photography, but nevertheless Hampton Court was on my agenda and it was staying that way. I walked via the road route and enjoyed a pleasant day taking in the enormity of the palace and the beauty of the rooms (the Chapel Royal took my breath away) and imagining what it must be like in Spring and Summer when the gardens are in full bloom. It is a place to go back to, so I will have to keep an eye on what productions will be on at The Rose to lure me back to Kingston! 

As dusk began to fall, I decided to walk back via the path beside the River Thames. As I pootled along, I could hear the voices of friends telling me I was an idiot, and I probably was, but fear of the unknown shouldn’t put you off doing the things you want to do, just keep vigilant when you do so. (Says the woman who was robbed the night before!) So I watched the sun go down and the lights of Kingston come on as I negotiated the muddy puddles on the footpath, before heading back to the hotel for a quick change before walking down to the theatre and being handed my ticket for that night’s performance.

As I watched the show on Friday night and considered the various themes, thoughts started to crystallise in my mind. Not only did themes echo down the centuries to modern day political situations, but some of the lines uttered made me think of how my relationship and trust in the people surrounding me had also begun to change. This quote from Tom Burke in Time & Leisure Magazine (Kingston Ed) particularly resonated “It’s a unique balance of many things, including idealism and cynicism. It has a beautiful humanistic heartbeat running through it but the story is ultimately a brutal one. It takes a long hard look at a paranoid, desensitised, ego-driven leader.” I continued to think about this as I bade those going to the pub goodnight and I continued back to my hotel.

Saturday was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for photo’s, only today I was looking at them rather than taking them! Across the road from my hotel was Kingston Museum – as a child my horse books all showed photographs of the horses gaits; walk, trot, canter, gallop – how the horses feet hit the ground during each transition, to enable (in theory) a better rider. What I didn’t know, was that the man behind the pictures was from Kingston. The museum has a wing dedicated to Eadweard Muybridge (1830-1904) a pioneer in photography and the inventor of the zoopraxiscope (a projector which held a glass disc on which Muybridge’s photographs of horses were traced and painted around the edge.) As the disc spun, it showed how the horse moved, answering the question as to whether all four feet of a horse are ever off the ground at the same time.  It was a fascinating exhibition for someone like me who had grown up with these images but knew nothing about the man behind them!

Now people might laugh at me when I say that Tom Burke has done a damned site more for my education than school or university ever did…but indirectly, he somehow enables these strange coincidences to occur!

Goodnight Kingston © 2018 Sioux

Manchester - Chetham's Library & Bee Walk across the City

Bee book - Chetham's Library

Manchester is synonymous with the worker bee. It has been used as a symbol to represent the history of Manchester's industrious past. In the 19th century, Manchester was a hive of activity during the industrial revolution and wherever you walk in Manchester you will see a bee, whether that is an emblem on the city bins and lamp-posts, or on its heraldic coat of arms.

Art trails have become a fantastic way of getting people to visit cities and raise money for good causes. From Liverpool's Superlambanana's, the international Cow Parade, and Bristol's Gromit (Wallace and Gromit) Unleashed Trail, Manchester has taken its famous bees to the streets this summer in the shape of 101 super sized bees and 131 smaller bees, all decorated by different artists celebrating the uniqueness of Manchester.

But let's put our bees on hold for a moment. As this trail takes you the length and breadth of Manchester, we decided to take a closer look at one of its historic buildings first. People who read my blog post in February will note that I took a behind the scenes tour of the Principal Hotel/Refuge last time I visited the city.  http://www.imblatheringnow.com/2018/02/an-assured-principal-refuge.html This time I'm going behind the scenes of a library...something that's right up my street!

Chetham's Library

Founded in 1653, Chetham's Library is the oldest surviving public library in Britain. Humphrey Chetham (1580-1653) was a Manchester landowner, banker and textile merchant who established the library under his Will. He also stipulated a school should be created for forty poor boys, and chained libraries should be placed in five local churches to assist with community learning. 

The medieval complex, originally built in 1421 to accommodate the priests of the local church (now Manchester Cathedral) create a unique place for visitors and scholars alike, and even TV production companies! During the Civil War, the college had been used as an arsenal and prison and subsequently fallen into neglect and so a great restoration project needed to be undertaken.

Until Humphrey Chetham's library was created, there were no places for independent study in the north of England. His library changed that, acquiring a huge collection of manuscripts and books which could rival those held at Oxford and Cambridge college libraries. The earliest purchases were all made from the same London bookseller and covered subjects such as medicine, science, history and law; the aim of which was to assist local doctors, lawyers and clergymen.

In order to protect the books from the damp, they were held on the first floor and they were chained to the bookcases. Oak stools, with an "s" shaped hand-hold carved out to carry the stools by, were provided so students could take the stool to the books, as the books could not be taken away from the shelves. The library continues to grow its collection of books and some 350 years later, the library remains an important centre for study.

During term-time, the only part of the medieval building usually open to visitors is the library; however tours are available from https://www.jonathanschofieldtours.com/exclusive-chethams-library-and-college-house.html

One of the first stops on the tour is the Baronial Hall - a great example of the types of timber framed halls in the north west of England. Originally the timber roof would have been open to allow smoke to escape from the central fire. Over time various modifications were made until we are left with the large inglenook 19th century fireplace that can be seen today.

The Audit Room is highly decorated, most visible is the ceiling which has been divided into nine panels depicting various grotesque designs including the Mouth of Hell. There are similarities in the designs in this room with the panelled roof of the Cathedral across from the library. The large oak table in the centre of the room has a strange mark on it, which legend suggests is from the hoof of the devil. In 1595, John Dee (Astrologer to Queen Elizabeth I) took over the wardenship of the college. As well as an astrologer and scientist, he was reputed to be an alchemist and follower of the occult, and his endeavours allegedly resulted in the devil making an appearance in the Audit Room.

Cat flap

The Cloisters are arranged around a central courtyard. If you look closely at the doors, you can see the earliest form of a cat flap at the bottom! The cobbled courtyard, known as fox court, contains an old stone well which has three small openings at its top. If you look carefully through one of the openings, an optical illusion makes you think you can see a trapped fox in the well...hence the pet name given to the courtyard.

Library Books

As I made my way up to the library, I couldn't help thinking I'd seen it before. The librarian had joined the group to give us more of an insight into the working library, and as he spoke about the history of the place and drew our attention to various matters it bugged me that the place seemed so familiar. Impossible...I'd not even heard of Chetham's Library until a friend asked if I wanted to visit. Suddenly it came to me. The actor Mark Gatiss, a huge fan of the ghost-story writer M R James, directed a BBC production of The Tractate Middoth at Chetham's Library. I watched it again when I returned home from my visit (how come each time I visit a Manchester place of interest I end up going home to watch something that was filmed there?!) Upon watching it, I noticed Sacha Dhawen, who played Dr Valentine in the theatre production of Allelujah that I'd recently been to see, was also in The Tractate Middoth. How strange a coincidence!

Reading Room

From the library we moved onto the Reading Room. Housed in the centre of the room is a large table encircled by twenty-four leather backed chairs - both dating from approximately 1650. Above the fireplace is a portrait of the founder Humphrey Chatham, also in the room is a clock, gifted by an ex-pupil in 1695 who left Chethams to become an instrument maker. In the alcove of the Reading Room is a table where Frederick Engels and Karl Marx would sit when Engels was living in Manchester. The spot is mentioned in a letter from Engels to Marx in 1870. The librarian kindly brought out some books of
interest which he spoke about, and then because we were a small group, he allowed us into a small "secret" room for a quick peak. It's an interesting and beautiful building to go around, so if you get the opportunity I would urge you to go.

"You never can tell with bees" Winnie the Pooh

So back to the bees. Once we left the library it was back to our mission of locating the bees of Manchester. We had loaded the app to our phone and managed to work out how to use it. Having managed to spot a bee outside the railway station and a couple on our way into town, it was now time to take a tour of as much of Manchester as time, and our feet, would allow. By the time we'd marched up to what we thought were "empty" bees, there would be a swarm of people hovering, making picture taking difficult. No-one wants a stranger taking a picture of their kids, and to be honest, I didn't want a stranger's kids on my pics either...but perseverance paid off and we got a few nice shots of the bees.

We managed to walk about 8 miles, seeing parts of the city I'd never been to before, and we found 41 of the large bees...not even half of what was laid around the city. But with sore feet and a setting sun it was time to throw in the towel. We'd already walked past the bee at House of Fraser. The app said it was inside the store, so we raced in like Anneka Rice on Treasure Hunt, racing around trying to find it until some poor soul directed us back outside and told us to look at the window display. If you can walk past a huge bee, which has signs pointing it out, and you can't see it, you know it's really not worth carrying on. We couldn't even be bothered walking to find a bus...a taxi was heading towards us and before we knew it, we were in it heading home!

It was a great day out and hopefully when the bees are auctioned off they will raise a large sum of money for the Lord Mayor of Manchester's We Love MCR Charity. If there are any of these art trails somewhere close to me next year, I'll be heading back out there, camera in hand. Only this time, I might get the map beforehand and plan a route around the city!