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shewhomustIn the Department of Living in the Future, I grocery-shopped online. This isn't, I realise, particularly futuristic, but I've been tiptoeing around it for some time. Finally, driven by a combination of frustration at the inadequacy of town centre supermarkets, and a conversation with K. in which she referred quite casually to shopping online at Waitrose, I have taken the plunge. Our local Waitrose appears to be Hexham (surely not the nearest, but possibly the nearest store large enough to support the service), so buying online does bring within reach what otherwise wouldn't be. I was very good, and worked from a list, and didn't buy things I can easily buy locally, and it was still a long, slow process. But I learned as I went along (clicking the link that says 'buy 2 for £n' does not put two of this item in your basket; there's a sub-menu at the top of the page, d'uh!). I'm already thinking that next time will be quicker, as I get the hang of it, and because the system remembers your purchases. Then I catch myself thinking about "next time", and reflect that online shopping is addictive. I might also be thinking that "next time" I'll explore a few more Waitrose treats - then again, maybe not!
I have remarked already on Durham's desire to wring every last drop of goodness from the visit of the Lindisfarne Gospels. All sorts of events and projects have been given the logo: the flower festival is over, but the cake-decorating competition is still to come. One of the better responses was an evening of Anglo-Saxon poetry readings, in the little Saxon church at Escomb. A team of some ten volunteers had learned enough Anglo-Saxon to read the selected poems in relay (with varying degrees of conviction and confidence) while organiser Paddy Burton ran the computer whiuch projected his translations onto the whitewashed wall of the church. It was fascinating to hear the poems, with the occasional half recognised word, and the discernable alliteration (I particularly liked The Ruin).
On Sunday we visited the orchid show, and then walked through the Botanic Gardens. There's a little display of orchids there, too, and some enterprising person had roped in Colin Wilbourn's sculptures to help:
They looked like penitents returning home with flowers in the hope of forgiveness.
I have remarked already on Durham's desire to wring every last drop of goodness from the visit of the Lindisfarne Gospels. All sorts of events and projects have been given the logo: the flower festival is over, but the cake-decorating competition is still to come. One of the better responses was an evening of Anglo-Saxon poetry readings, in the little Saxon church at Escomb. A team of some ten volunteers had learned enough Anglo-Saxon to read the selected poems in relay (with varying degrees of conviction and confidence) while organiser Paddy Burton ran the computer whiuch projected his translations onto the whitewashed wall of the church. It was fascinating to hear the poems, with the occasional half recognised word, and the discernable alliteration (I particularly liked The Ruin).
On Sunday we visited the orchid show, and then walked through the Botanic Gardens. There's a little display of orchids there, too, and some enterprising person had roped in Colin Wilbourn's sculptures to help:
They looked like penitents returning home with flowers in the hope of forgiveness.
