St David's 2013: Part 4

Our final day at St David's and the cathedral fed both body and soul. The body had its fill in the Refrectory for morning coffee and the soul gorged on Choral Evensong later on. Even if I do say so myself, we discharged ourselves rather well as a choir tonight.

In between, we did a circular walk taking in Porth Clais, St Non's Chapel and Caerfai Bay.  More sea and sky, with the water being much calmer than earlier on in our stay.Who could ever get bored with views like this?

Flowers are a rarity this time of year but we did come across a solitary yellow toadflax.It's not an uncommon plant so where were all the others?

Not many flowers, neither were there many birds to be seen. But we did come across the rather unusual sight of a Grey Heron on the rocks.

To avoid being hit by cliff divers, walkers should lean to the left.

For completeness, I should mention the bowl of Cawl my IWC had at the Oriel-y-Parc cafe in St David's. We really must make some of this when we get back.

St David's 2013: Part 3

We deserted Pembrokeshire today and headed north to Cardiganshire to meet long standing friends S & D at my undergraduate Alma Mater, Aberystwyth. Great to meet up with them and, rather selfishly, great for me to indulge in some nostalgia. I wish I could say that I spent three years immersed in my studies but.....let's just say that I sustained an interesting mix of academic and social activities.

The sweep of Aberystwyth as it clings to the curve of Cardigan Bay. Constitution Hill to the left background and the Old College in the right foreground. The promenade, always windy, was a great place to walk off a hang-over (or so I was told).

The Old College, where I sat every single one of my undergraduate exams, is the site of the original University of Aberystwyth. Founded in 1872, I believe it was the oldest college of the erstwhile University of Wales. It was built as a  railway hotel but acquired at a knock-down price by the University when the developers went bankrupt. In my day it housed most of the Arts departments but nowadays it's full of the administrative functions. It's a wonderful Victorian building with lots of interesting Gothic features on the inside. 

View from the prom looking west. As long as there's sea and sky in the camera viewfinder, there's infinite variety and interest.

12 Marine Terrace, of blessed memory. I had a room, out of sight around the back, here for two years. I was rather disappointed not to see a blue plaque commemorating my time there. Maybe that was around the back as well?

Aberystwyth Post Office. Not much to look at but a very special place in the annals of my political activism. It was there in 1967 that I, and about 30 others, held a 'sit-in' to protest against the Vietnam War. Did we achieve anything other than bemusing passers-by, infuriating the counter staff and irritating the local police? I like to think so. After all, it wasn't that long after that the war ended with the Fall of Saigon (on 30th April 1975 actually but it couldn't have been a coincidence).

And finally, I received a couple of blog-inspired presents from our friends today. Both are appropriate in their own ways. The first, a nod to my understated Republicanism, the souvenir edition of Hello magazine, jam packed with wonderful photographs of THAT christening (Photoshop here I come!). The second, a doll in a tutu to commemorate my recent foray into the world of ballet. What thoughtful gifts and ones that will give me unexpected pleasure. A frabjous joy! Thank you, D & S.

St David's 2013: Part 2

Another couple of delightful days.  A drive up the Gwaun Valley and over the Prescelli Hills one day and one of our favourite walks from Solva the next. And the icing on the cake for both days? Singing Choral Evensong in the cathedral both evenings.

Elvis has left the building. Actually, he was never in this cromlech but he, or rather St Elvis, did establish a church close by. St Elvis was the mentor of St David and lived in the sixth century. I bet he did a wonderful Choral Evensong (uh uh uh).

Who are you looking at? Woof, woof.

Apart from all this, enjoy your stay and have fun.

Neanderthals this way?

The sun on the sea. Views like this all the way back from the midpoint of our walk at Pointz Castle (a Norman motte, the vestiges of which are still visible - but not in this panorama, obviously)

Solva form the Gribbin. A sleepy tourist village now but a hive of industry in days of yore. Apparently in 1840 you could catch a boat from here to the USA for £4. Not First Class I would guess.

Unusual for this time of year - some late blackberries in the hedgerow.

I call this one the "hole in a gatepost with a bit of barbwire" shot.

I call this one the "We do like to be beside the seaside" shot. Two Shaggy Parasol fungi (Lepiota Rhacodes) enjoying the sun on the cliffs.

I call this one the "Plonker in Purple" shot.

(By way of explanation, our annual visit to St David's coincides with the East Wickham Singers singing in the cathedral when the resident choir is on holiday. I've sung with the EWS for about 8 years now and, believe or not, I am qualified to wear the 'cathedral choirister' medal around my neck. Yes, I find that amazing as well).

St David's 2013: Part 1

Down to St David's for our customary week at Glowty, just outside of the city.A time of walking, singing and generally relaxing. A decent walk yesterday from Nant-y-coy Mill near Wolf's Castle and this afternoon we ventured to the beach at Whitesands.  The weather is definitely brewing for something tonight. Will the forecasts be correct? Will we all be blown away? Will we be here in the morning?

An attractive fungus growing in small groups in rich pasture land. Tentatively identified as Panaeolus acuminatus

A striking yellow fungus growing on an elder branch. I think it'sTremella aurantia Stereum hirsutum.

Froth/spume whipped up by the high winds at Whitesands Bay. It looked as if the beach was covered in snow. That to the left is not water.

High seas and winds. Some of the waves must have been approaching 30' high. We've never seen it like this in all the years we've been coming here.

RIP Lou Reed

Another member of the rock aristocracy departs with the death of Lou Reed today. If I ever had to compile 'my Top Ten', his 'Walk on the Wild Side' would be somewhere near the top. He leaves a legacy of excellent music.

The resemblance is uncanny.

 

(Couldn't pass the opportunity up but that's it. Last one. Bored now.)

(And I should thank [or blame] DC for sending me a link to the photograph and planting the idea in my mind.)

I think I got away with it!

Now where can I put this sword?

I do love a Royal event...........

.....And it doesn't get any better than a Royal Christening. Off to Windsor today to celebrate in true style.

A visit to see Swan Lake

 

As I'm a regular ballet goer - roughly once every 30 years - it was with eager anticipation that my IBC (no, not Irritable Bowel Condition) and I went off recently to the Theatre Royal in Plymouth to see Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake. A production born in controversy as, apparently, when it was first shown it was met with a mixture of shock, intrigue and outrage. There were even walk-outs during performances – not something you’d expect from a dance piece! This was mainly because Bourne did something rather daring with this version of Swan Lake – he made all the swans male.

 

The packed house saw the plot unfurl: Prince has problems; Prince has unhealthy swan fetish; Prince meets good swan; Prince meets bad swan; Prince has unfortunate with-swan experience; Prince swans off into the moonlight. All that set against an excellent taped version of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's original score. And I mustn't overlook the obvious homoerotic and Freudian undertones: the prince, rejected by his mother, goes for a floozy, then cavorts (that's a ballet term) with the swan who will ultimately cause his death. A swan who couldn’t make up his mind as to whether he wanted men or women or whatever.

 

I'm sure pure balletomanes would find something to complain about but me? I enjoyed it. It was a very powerful piece of modern theatre and not what I was expecting. It's worth going to see but, be warned, you’ll never look at Swan Lake  or swans in the same way again! I know I won't.

 

The Stoke Climsland Apple Day Massacre...............

...or the video I made of the process. Severely hampered by my low level competence, here's a six minute sequence of what actually happens on the day. It might be interesting to anyone considering coming along next year?  On the other hand..................

'Tis Apple Pressing Day in Stoke Climsland

For many years now there has been an Apple Pressing Day at the Old School in the village. We are lucky living in a good apple growing area and the crop this year has been particularly good. People bring along their apples in carrier bags, boxes and crates and get them squeezed in a hydraulic press owned by a local orchard preservation group. The juice is decanted into bottles (some to be pasteurised later), jugs and carboys, to be drunk straightaway, frozen or converted into cider. One presser I was talking to today was hoping for around 1500 litres of juice for cider! Not all for his own consumption, I would add, as I know he distributes it amongst his friends. A delightfully rural pastime and I've taken a few photographs so that any latent pressers can get a feel for what's involved. And the end-product? The samples I had today were delicious - fresh, appley and natural. If only our trees could be productive enough so that we could have our own cuvee each year. But they are not, so we don't.

The apples come in all varieties - dessert, cookers and cider types - and all quantities. A quick wash and they are ready for juicing. The pressers get around 750mls juice per 1 kg.

 

The first step of the process is to pulp the apples by putting them through a glorified garden shredder.

 

The pulp is stacked in square blocks wrapped in sacking cloths. Each one of these is called a 'cheese'.

 

The completed stack of cheeses in topped with a wooden block and then the hydraulic press is started. It gets up to around 300 bar.

 

And here is the juice flowing. The only processing it gets, if it can be so called, is passage through a muslin bag to trap any bits coming through. If you have never tried fresh pressed apple juice, you are missing something. The extracted pulp gets recycled for composting or fed to pigs. 

 

A circular visit in the sky

A trip to Plymouth today to visit Smeaton's Tower on the Hoe. Always on our list of local places to visit but we've never got around to it until today.

Smeaton's Tower is, guess what, a lighthouse.

Built between 1756 and 1759, it marked the Eddystone Rocks some 14 miles from Plymouth until it was dismantled in 1882. It was then re-erected on Plymouth Hoe. What can be said about a lighthouse? It's tall, circular and has a light on top.

A circular bedroom needs a circular bed.

 A circular kitchen needs a circular seat.

 A circular store room needs a circular cupboard.

 No shadows cast over this visit!

Immigrants? A suggestion for showing what they do for us.

Over the past few months immigration has been in the news consistently, with horse trading over the accuracy of the International Passenger Survey (used by the government to estimate net migration), calls by the right-wing think tank Demos to restrict EU migration (impossible under EU law) and the Bongo Bongo Land debacle arising from Godfrey Bloom's (a UK Independence Party MEP) intemperate remarks. One of the most persistent stories, however, has been the row over the mobile billboards telling undocumented migrants to go home. Media coverage of this issue has focused more on the fractures in the coalition government about this practice and its race-to-the-bottom nastiness than on any serious discussion about how policy makers might deal with the undocumented or ‘irregular’ migration. It's a problem we cannot ignore and it is also a problem we seem to be unable to keep in perspective or have a reasoned debate about.

Let's take a report on Sky News today headlined 'Immigration: Britons want drastic action' (here) One statistic quoted was the fact that more than a quarter of those polled (27%) believe the wave of immigration Britain has experienced in the last decade has brought no positive benefit to the nation. This goes unchallenged by Sky. Maybe I can't convince the 27% that they are wrong but what I can do is to suggest a way of showing how much we depend on immigrants. Let's call for "A Day without Immigrants". Wouldn’t that demonstrate, once and for all, that neither our economy nor our society needs migrants? That they are a burden, rather than a blessing?

This isn't a new idea: I'm using something from the USA as a model. “A Day Without Immigrants” was the name given to a rather

innovative series of protests in the US in 2006, which brought more than a million Latinos on to the streets of 50 cities, from New York to Los Angeles. They boycotted shops, schools and their places of work to try to highlight the plight of undocumented migrant workers.

That was the USA but I’d do it slightly differently over here. Here's what I'd do: anyone in the UK born abroad or with a parent born abroad would stay at home for 24 hours. Any business or organisation founded by an immigrant or the child of an immigrant would close for the day. Britain would be transformed – but, regrettably for the immigration-bashers, in a wholly negative way. In fact, I suspect it would be a pretty awful 24 hours for most Britons. Here's why I think that.

Let’s start with the trivial stuff. Who would serve us in restaurants or coffee shops? Who would make our sandwiches and wraps at lunchtime? What would be the point of going out to eat in the evening if there were no longer any Chinese, Thai, Malaysian, Indian, Japanese, Mexican, Turkish, Lebanese, Persian, Italian, Spanish and French restaurants open?

What about our health? Who’d patch us up and prescribe our medicines? Ministers and the right-wing press like to scaremonger

about the spiralling costs of so-called health tourism (which amounts to a shocking 0.01 per cent of the £109bn NHS budget) and exaggerate the numbers of migrant families that turn up expecting free treatment in our overstretched A & E departments. The reality, as the chair of the council of the Royal College of GPs, Dr Clare Gerada, has pointed out, is that “you are much more likely to have an immigrant caring for you than sitting up in front of the emergency department”. About 30 per cent of the doctors and 40 per cent of the nurses working in the health service were born abroad. Think about those numbers: the NHS simply could not survive 24 hours without its migrant workforce.

The same applies to the social-care sector. If we have an elderly or sick relative living in a care home, we might have to take the day off to look after them. In 2009 a fifth of all care assistants and home

carers – 135,000 people in total – were foreign-born; in London, 60 per cent of care workers were migrants. Speaking of taking the day off, neither the Deputy Prime Minister nor the leader of the opposition would have to turn up to Westminster for PMQs – Nick Clegg is the son of a Dutch mother and half-Russian father and, as we all know from recent events, Ed Miliband is the child of Polish refugees.

Meanwhile, the Chancellor would have to go to the Commons to warn that “A Day Without Immigrants” would, if extended over a year, force him to introduce a further £7bn of spending cuts and/or tax rises. Why? Because migrants boost the British economy by £7bn a year, according to an OECD study published in June. That’s the equivalent of an extra 2p on the basic rate of income tax.

Sticking with the economy, we’d have to board up iconic British stores such as Marks & Spencer (co-founder: Michael Marks of Belarus), Selfridges (founder: the American Harry Gordon Selfridge) and Tesco (founder: Jacob Kohen, son of Avram, a Polish migrant). UK holidaymakers would have to cancel their cheap flights on easyJet (founder: the Greek born Stelios Haji-Ioannou).

Our universities would take a hit, too, if foreign students stayed away. One in ten students in British universities comes from outside the EU and the fees that students from other countries pay are a bigger source of income for most universities than research grants.

What about sport? Imagine going to watch a Premier League game midweek as a Liverpool fan. Luis Suárez wouldn’t be playing. If we’re 

Ismail Yakubu

a Man United fan, we’d miss out on the ball skills of Robin van Persie; if we’re a Man City fan, it’d be Yaya Touré on strike. Chelsea fans? Say goodbye to Juan Mata and Eden Hazard. Good grief: even we Newport County supporters would be affected as we say nos dda to Ismail Salami Yakubu.

If we were planning on using the Tube in London we’d find it in a pretty filthy state, the train platforms tagged with graffiti and strewn with rubbish: 95 per cent of London Underground cleaning staff are foreign-born. It wouldn’t just be the District Line that was dirty, it would also be our places of work: 89 per cent of office cleaners in the capital are migrants.

But the countryside would be fine, right? Wrong. Imagine all those unpicked crops and the effect: the rise in food prices, supermarkets opting for (cheaper) foreign over domestic produce, fruit farmers on their knees. The truth is that “native” Brits have not been interested in fruit-picking for years and, as the Home Office’s own Migration Advisory Committee warned in May, many of the UK’s fruit-picking businesses could close without new migrant workers from outside the EU.

So that's it: a one-day strike by immigrants and their children across the UK, coupled with a ban on the use of immigrant-founded

businesses by the “indigenous” population. Just for a day. Let’s do it. And if it doesn’t change public opinion (like the 27% the Sky News report mentions), well, at least some of us would have the day off work.

Bilge warning! Avoid this book like the plague

Recently I saw Derek Acorah's book 'Haunted' in a supermarket bargain bin. I say 'bargain' bin but at 25p, it was 25p too much. I bought it because I'd vaguely heard of Derek Acorah and it was cheap - a possible disposable read for a flight? I thought it would be amusing and for the most part I was right. But not for the reasons the author intended. The first chapter for example, offers up the gem "...at times I come across spirit beings who are behaving in an anti-social manner" Huh? You don't say, Derek. 

A few chapters later this paragraph popped up: "I explained to Terry that, difficult though it might be to come to terms with, it is my belief that before we enter our physical lives we choose the way in which we will live those lives. We choose the burdens we will have to carry, the things we will have to endure and also the manner of our passing"

How naive I thought. Actually, I was less charitable than that:how mind bogglingly stupid I thought. He clearly hasn't considered stuff like death in childhood, brutal murder or rape. Oh, I was wrong. It turns out he has, because in the next chapter he talks to a woman whose father raped her throughout her childhood and writes: "As Nancy related this story to me I realised that unfortunately this was a case where people have to undergo certain harsh experiences in their lifetime in order to achieve soul growth. In other words, they had agreed to these experiences before they had incarnated into their physical bodies".

At this point the book went from the bargain bin to the recycling bin. Let's hope it comes back as something more useful. Ditto that for Acorah when he passes in the manner of his choosing.