Advent accomplished
Dec. 24th, 2013 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustWe are in Ely, with D. and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valydiarosada. Despite the warnings of the weather forecast, we did not in fact have too hard a coming of it: we avoided the tailback at Catterick (emergency gas leak) by cutting through the town, the rain was squally and the wind was gusty, but the worst problem was traffic on the Lincoln ring road. And we arrived and were soothed with tea and warming stew and comparative malbec tasting (Mendoza good, Cahors better) and television. This morning D. gave us a brief introduction to Ely (the river, the self-illuminating sluice gate, the cathedral, the ducks), then we drove through the fens in watery sunshine for lunch at the Maid's Head (I recomend the sweet potato wedges, pity about the accompanying dip). I am writing this as the afternoon slips away, and valydiarosada is in the kitchen making apple pie to the accompaniment of carols from King's College.
I had expected to have written about our trip to London long before now: but I had expected to have done a number of things which somehow have remained undone. I had envisioned the days between our return from London and our departure for Ely as a little oasis of calm in which I could achieve a number of tasks in an orderly and unhurried manner: this did not happen. I know these are the shortest days, but they are supposed to have as many hours as other days - so where did they go?
Anyway, London:
We arrived in the aftermath of various medical excitements, to find GirlBear in a state of convalescence and BoyBear about to head off the the hospital for tests (from which he returned having been pronounced normal. Normal? BoyBear? We all agreed this was implausible). None of this was allowed to derail the planned band practice, so we had an oportunity to hear work in progress on the current project, which was a great pleasure and which I look forward to being able to say more about. In between the actual music, there was brainstorming about a name under which the band might perform this material in this line-up, so throughout the evening (and the days that followed) random remarks would be greeted with cries of "Band name!".
Next morning BoyBear went to his tai chi class, and GirlBear suggested we make a gentle expedition, involving one bus ride and not too much walking, perhaps to King's Cross, and King's Place. I wouldn't have thought of King's Cross as a tourist destination, but why not?
It was a splendid outing. We nosed around King's Place, and walked through to enjoy the access to the canal, then back to what I suppose is the new developement, though the attraction is that the old buildings are being revealed. Victorian industrial buildings which I had never seen - because there was no access, and no incentive to visit - now dominate the great open square or tower above the greenway of the canal. We followed a sign that said "Skip Garden" and found tiny patches of allotments, planted in skips so that they can be relocated as the development progresses - and a café where we sat in the December sun and lunched on leek, chickpea and lemon soup. At this point, GirlBear decided this was enough for one day, and caught the bus home, anddurham_rambler and I continued our exploration. We climbed the viewing platform, and enjoyed the view across the canal to this building, which I'm sure was labelled "Fish and Coal offices" on the helpful panorama:
It makes me think of Joan Aiken's Midnight is a Place. Then back to the canal, and by a slightly circuitous route to the Canal Museum. This is actually two museums in one. It genuinely is a canal museum, with brightly painted barge-ware, and a sawnoff narrow boat in which you can admire the neatness of the living arrangements; upstairs there are maps and old films, and temporary exhibitions (the photos which GirlBear had recommended had beem replaced by some very jolly lino cuts). But the building in which it is housed was a Victorian ice cream works, so there is also material about the history of ice cream, from the little glass cups in which 'penny licks' were served to the great wells in which ice was stored (shipped from Norway, delivered by canal and stored underground round the year). We were able to climb down the ladder into the wells, and talk to the ice sculptor who was working there:
The words "ice sculptor" made me think of elegant carvings of swans, adorning the dinner parties of the rich (proabably filled with caviar): this was entirely misleading. The artist (whose name I have failed to find) was freeing pieces of bark and lengths of neon-glowing copper wire into blocks of ice, and was more interested in the way the ice melted than imposing carved shapes on it herself. I didn't find the sculptures themselves very interesting to look at, but talking to the artist about the process was fascinating, and I liked the way it made me think about the space that contained her work.
We dined that evening withfjm and chilperic. Our excuse was that we had an empty Scapa bottle to deliver for fjm's Raw Spirit project, but it was a delight to see them both in their (still comparatively) new home, and to sit by the fire and talk books and meet the famous Miss P.
After this, we were ready for a quieter day. We had planned lunch at the Shaolin Temple in Junction Road, because BoyBear had a menu fro their café and it looked fun - as well as being the right sort of distance to walk for GirlBear's daily excursion. This neat plan was foiled by the café - and possibly the entire temple - being closed, and the afternoon disintegrated into the hunt for lunch, some emergency Christmas shopping, the discovery of a tiny photographic gallery in what I suppose is the cultural quarter of Muswell Hill (it looked like a row of lock-up garages, but I liked the photos, and the aroma of coffee). In the eveningdurham_rambler and I abandoned our vegetarian hosts and went south of the river to meet helenraven at an Argentinian restaurant, get the last minute news of her imminent trip to China, and eat meat - the best steak I have had in a long time, and black pudding like clouds of savoury soot. Returning to the station, we saw the Shard lit up like an eniormous Christmas tree.
We spent Saturday in Essex withdurham_rambler's family: a terrific game of Scrabble with two great-nephews ("That's the first time I've ever finished a game," says 11-year old J: usually time runs out), and my annual dose of Strictly Come Dancing.
Most of Sunday was spent preparing for the carol evening, and then the evening itself, not exactly the Sole Purpose of Visit but certainly the reason we visit London at this particular time. Which was as splendid as ever, and if some of the absentees were regretted, we had a New Person, which is always fun. We sang three versions ofWhile Shepherds..., which is more than I strictly require, but it would be hard to reach consensus on which one to drop (hard core folkies A and A were discussing the possibility of an evening of nothing but shepherds, but would omit my favourite, Cranbrook).
And on Monday, we returned home, and the rest you know. Except that on Saturday we had yet more seasonal music, this time from the Albion Christmas Band: we'd been uncertain about this, and maybe a little confused by a previous Sage concert from a second-generation Albion Band, but the Christmas Band turned out to be Ashley Hutchings, Simon Nicol, Kellie While and Simon Care - of whom Simon Care was the least familiar name, but the one whose CD we took home with us (having heard it playing during the interval). No reflection on the band, which provided a lively and various evening; we counted seven pieces we had sung the previous week, but in very different versions (the watchword appears to be 'boisterous', and I got the idea that the band felt there was something missing, and were trying to supply the stamping and ringing of the absent morris side). I'd happily go again next year.
Which brings me up to date, I think - Merry Christmas, everyone!
valydiarosada. Despite the warnings of the weather forecast, we did not in fact have too hard a coming of it: we avoided the tailback at Catterick (emergency gas leak) by cutting through the town, the rain was squally and the wind was gusty, but the worst problem was traffic on the Lincoln ring road. And we arrived and were soothed with tea and warming stew and comparative malbec tasting (Mendoza good, Cahors better) and television. This morning D. gave us a brief introduction to Ely (the river, the self-illuminating sluice gate, the cathedral, the ducks), then we drove through the fens in watery sunshine for lunch at the Maid's Head (I recomend the sweet potato wedges, pity about the accompanying dip). I am writing this as the afternoon slips away, and valydiarosada is in the kitchen making apple pie to the accompaniment of carols from King's College.I had expected to have written about our trip to London long before now: but I had expected to have done a number of things which somehow have remained undone. I had envisioned the days between our return from London and our departure for Ely as a little oasis of calm in which I could achieve a number of tasks in an orderly and unhurried manner: this did not happen. I know these are the shortest days, but they are supposed to have as many hours as other days - so where did they go?
Anyway, London:
We arrived in the aftermath of various medical excitements, to find GirlBear in a state of convalescence and BoyBear about to head off the the hospital for tests (from which he returned having been pronounced normal. Normal? BoyBear? We all agreed this was implausible). None of this was allowed to derail the planned band practice, so we had an oportunity to hear work in progress on the current project, which was a great pleasure and which I look forward to being able to say more about. In between the actual music, there was brainstorming about a name under which the band might perform this material in this line-up, so throughout the evening (and the days that followed) random remarks would be greeted with cries of "Band name!".
Next morning BoyBear went to his tai chi class, and GirlBear suggested we make a gentle expedition, involving one bus ride and not too much walking, perhaps to King's Cross, and King's Place. I wouldn't have thought of King's Cross as a tourist destination, but why not?
It was a splendid outing. We nosed around King's Place, and walked through to enjoy the access to the canal, then back to what I suppose is the new developement, though the attraction is that the old buildings are being revealed. Victorian industrial buildings which I had never seen - because there was no access, and no incentive to visit - now dominate the great open square or tower above the greenway of the canal. We followed a sign that said "Skip Garden" and found tiny patches of allotments, planted in skips so that they can be relocated as the development progresses - and a café where we sat in the December sun and lunched on leek, chickpea and lemon soup. At this point, GirlBear decided this was enough for one day, and caught the bus home, and
durham_rambler and I continued our exploration. We climbed the viewing platform, and enjoyed the view across the canal to this building, which I'm sure was labelled "Fish and Coal offices" on the helpful panorama:It makes me think of Joan Aiken's Midnight is a Place. Then back to the canal, and by a slightly circuitous route to the Canal Museum. This is actually two museums in one. It genuinely is a canal museum, with brightly painted barge-ware, and a sawnoff narrow boat in which you can admire the neatness of the living arrangements; upstairs there are maps and old films, and temporary exhibitions (the photos which GirlBear had recommended had beem replaced by some very jolly lino cuts). But the building in which it is housed was a Victorian ice cream works, so there is also material about the history of ice cream, from the little glass cups in which 'penny licks' were served to the great wells in which ice was stored (shipped from Norway, delivered by canal and stored underground round the year). We were able to climb down the ladder into the wells, and talk to the ice sculptor who was working there:
The words "ice sculptor" made me think of elegant carvings of swans, adorning the dinner parties of the rich (proabably filled with caviar): this was entirely misleading. The artist (whose name I have failed to find) was freeing pieces of bark and lengths of neon-glowing copper wire into blocks of ice, and was more interested in the way the ice melted than imposing carved shapes on it herself. I didn't find the sculptures themselves very interesting to look at, but talking to the artist about the process was fascinating, and I liked the way it made me think about the space that contained her work.
We dined that evening with
fjm and chilperic. Our excuse was that we had an empty Scapa bottle to deliver for fjm's Raw Spirit project, but it was a delight to see them both in their (still comparatively) new home, and to sit by the fire and talk books and meet the famous Miss P.After this, we were ready for a quieter day. We had planned lunch at the Shaolin Temple in Junction Road, because BoyBear had a menu fro their café and it looked fun - as well as being the right sort of distance to walk for GirlBear's daily excursion. This neat plan was foiled by the café - and possibly the entire temple - being closed, and the afternoon disintegrated into the hunt for lunch, some emergency Christmas shopping, the discovery of a tiny photographic gallery in what I suppose is the cultural quarter of Muswell Hill (it looked like a row of lock-up garages, but I liked the photos, and the aroma of coffee). In the evening
durham_rambler and I abandoned our vegetarian hosts and went south of the river to meet helenraven at an Argentinian restaurant, get the last minute news of her imminent trip to China, and eat meat - the best steak I have had in a long time, and black pudding like clouds of savoury soot. Returning to the station, we saw the Shard lit up like an eniormous Christmas tree.We spent Saturday in Essex with
durham_rambler's family: a terrific game of Scrabble with two great-nephews ("That's the first time I've ever finished a game," says 11-year old J: usually time runs out), and my annual dose of Strictly Come Dancing.Most of Sunday was spent preparing for the carol evening, and then the evening itself, not exactly the Sole Purpose of Visit but certainly the reason we visit London at this particular time. Which was as splendid as ever, and if some of the absentees were regretted, we had a New Person, which is always fun. We sang three versions of
And on Monday, we returned home, and the rest you know. Except that on Saturday we had yet more seasonal music, this time from the Albion Christmas Band: we'd been uncertain about this, and maybe a little confused by a previous Sage concert from a second-generation Albion Band, but the Christmas Band turned out to be Ashley Hutchings, Simon Nicol, Kellie While and Simon Care - of whom Simon Care was the least familiar name, but the one whose CD we took home with us (having heard it playing during the interval). No reflection on the band, which provided a lively and various evening; we counted seven pieces we had sung the previous week, but in very different versions (the watchword appears to be 'boisterous', and I got the idea that the band felt there was something missing, and were trying to supply the stamping and ringing of the absent morris side). I'd happily go again next year.
Which brings me up to date, I think - Merry Christmas, everyone!
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no subject
Date: 2013-12-24 09:00 pm (UTC)Reminds me of Christmas in London 1972, gray and bleak and cold and lonely, but oh, it was still London, and furnished unexpected moments of the numinous.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 04:17 pm (UTC)When I lived in London, it wasn't a place I wanted to be. Now I am rediscovering the city.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-24 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 04:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 09:59 am (UTC)I can't get over how all this can happen with entire respect to me being Jewish - it's something I love about Britain. It allows for beauty across those boundaries.
That was, I think, one of the best Decembers of my life. I hope that yours is equally good - it already sounds wonderful.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 04:29 pm (UTC)Much of what I enjoy about Christmas has to do with it being a midwinter festival: I've been fascinated by your posts about how wrong things can go when your midwinter festival falls in mid-summer, and I'm not surprised that you had a better December when that aspect of the problem was removed!