My posties

I am very fond of the men who deliver my mail. There are two: a short. rotund, smiling one and a tall, thin lugubrious one. Both are efficent and courteous - but shy. That is why I cannot show you a photograph of either; here is their mail trolley instead, safely attached to a convenient lamppost. 

"Letters of thanks, letters from banks ..."

Grateful though I am for my daily visit, I also recall that, in the days when Anthony Trollope revolutionised the service, there were up to 10 to 12 deliveries a day, starting at around 7.30 a.m. and ending at 7.30 p.m. George Bernard Shaw sent off a thick MS of a novel in the morning only to have it returned the same day, rejected. Trollope, during his 33 years as a civil servant, brought the idea of the post box to Britain, although they were sage green at first before becoming the familiar bright red we know and love. Of course, he was also writing many fat novels, drafting them before starting the day's work for the Royal Mail. I wonder what he did with the rest of his time.

 There is no need to show you a pillar box but here is a warning that you should never attempt to drive through a red telephone kiosk just because it looks faded.

Modern annoyances

 The internet and AI are useful and have become a modern necessity. It is difficult to know how we could manage without them. Yet there are aspects which are deeply irksome.

1) Being asked to review a delivery. A person walks up my short, front garden path and places a small package in a box marked "Parcels here". I am then asked to review this amazing achievement by rating the courier's manner, promptitude, courtesy etc. Mostly I have never seen him or her but I feel obliged to do the review so that they will keep their job or even get promotion. One day I'll be asked how kind they are to their great-aunt and I will find myself giving them 5 stars for looking after the old lady so compassionately.

2) Being offered services that I have not asked for. I make a simple Google enquiry about something and AI leaps in and asks me if I would like help exploring it further and in writing about it. If we all said we would, a whole ghastly, bland, unispeak language would take over the world and all quirky individuality would be lost. I make a point of looking for and pointing out a solecism in their use of words. I gather that AI uses a great deal of water and I deplore any unnecessary waste. Just give me the information I ask for and only that, I mumble. Even the BBC is joining this trend by suggesting that I might like to listen to mind-soothing, soupy music when all I want from Sounds is The Archers. The unctuously pseudo-helpful tone is so irritating that I am in need of my own calming remedies like a strong cup of tea. 

That's all for now but there will be more to come! Much more.

Mother, father and child.

 Have you heard those words recently or seen them written on social media? Or even read them in a solemn context such as a person writing about a funeral? 

Neither have I. They have been replaced by Mum (not always with a capital), Dad and kid. People talk about grieving for their mum or sending their kids to school. I know I am old-fashioned but I think it's a pity to lose the more formal tone entirely.  Let's keep the subtle distinctions of different registers. 

"Upset" and "incredibly"

 These two words have a profoundly disagreeable effect on me. "Upset" is a bland umbrella term used to mean anything from mildly bothered to deeply distressed. "Incredibly"denotes the exact opposite of what is meant: the speaker expects the listener to believe what s/he has just said cannot be believed. 

9:30 start

Sent from my iPhone

Warwick Castle - mixed reaction

This gives you some idea of the magnificence of Warwick Castle - and it is so rich in history. English Heritage? Yes but there is a burger tent in the Bailey plus intrusive music to distract the visitor. How can they destroy atmosphere in such a way? I know they need to keep up the revenue but surely the added entertainments could be outside the castle walls. So disappointing and such a contrast with the magnificent Kenilworth Castle nearby.
There is a responsibility involved in managing a castle - and that includes other considerations than short-term revenue. Do not turn these sites into theme parks. 

Tai Chi and Qi Gong

   I thought you might like to gaze at this photo of my left foot! Actually I don?t have a selfie of me doing Tai Chi and so this piccie of my greatly improved appendage will have to do.

   I took up these routines because an ex-GP I know said it improved his balance and I confess to wobbling sometimes. I have bought lots of dvd's and go to a class and find it all both soothing and energising. All my body seems to work better and so do its functions, the mentionable ones  like sleeping and the unmentionable like ... 

   It has taken me some time to work out the difference, if any, between Tai Chi and Qi Gong and I am not sure I have it right now. In Tai Chi you can do individual poses and movements - which have fascinating names such as The Golden Rooster Stands on One Leg - but you have the ultimate aim of joining them up into a "form" like a slow ballet. This is my stumbling block as I seem to have a poor memory for continuous movements. I won't give up but, meanwhile, I prefer Qi Gong, where the individual exercises have a healing claim for the various organs.

  I do recommend these methods of exercise: you can adopt the philosophy behind them or just treat them as physical routines but you can do them into old age, even sitting down. You do not heed any special equipment - just wear comfortable clothing. Yet I confess to envying the silk pyjamas the presenters wear! 

  For me it has been a life changer and the golden rooster stands on one leg a little longer every day. In summer I shall stun my neighbours by performing in the garden.

The Charterhouse - central London

   Last week when I was in London I went, with my daughter, on a tour that she had booked for us to The Charterhouse, near St. Paul's. We had a wonderful guide who walked us round this ancient building which has been a Plague burial ground, a monastery, a Tudor mansion  and a school, hospital and almshouse. It is still home to 40 Brothers - who are elderly people in need - and I found the sight of the table set for afternoon tea very moving.
   If you want to do something quiet and different in the heart of London that you will remember for a long time, book yourself onto this tour.
   I have written more about it on my history blog: History on the Buses. 

HATS!

Nothing quite gives a lift like a proper hat! Here is my latest and it is pure Downton Abbey. The actual colour is cherry red and I feel fab when wearing it. It stays on in the wind which is a Good Thing as I am terrified of hat pins! There are all manner of rationalisations about hats: you lose umpteen percentage points of heat through the head without one etc etc. But the real reason is the surge of confidence they produce. They ARE practical in the rain as I hate hoods on coats which make me walk bending forward in duck pose. I have a series of fedoras - bought in the sales - and little squashy cloche jobbies and I create a sensation at the bus stop. Yet the ultimate accolade is from my butcher: not in words as such but in his scuttling off to the back of the shop to select the best cuts for his hatted customer! 

Exercise videos

    As you see, I own a remarkable number of Yoga and Pilates DVD's. Why? It is not that I avoid doing the exercises and buy the discs to assuage my guilt. No! I do Pilates every morning for 10 minutes - now that I have found the right one: Pilates for beginners: 10 minute solutions.

   I do not like advertising on my blogs but I wasted so much money on false starts that I feel obliged to do so. Some DVD's are difficult to navigate from the menu, some are unbelievably irritating or slow, some demand that you need lots of space and so on.

    Now I am trying to learn Tai Chi - same dreary and expensive experimentation with discs. One made it impossible to choose chapters and go to them, one was beautiful to see and gave clear instructions but involved me turning my back and watching over my shoulder. I also like mirror image - otherwise I end up in knots! 

   From what I have done, I find the movements soothing and helpful for balance but - where oh where is that perfect DVD? It is not on my shelf yet!

    

Coffee pods - not beans!

I have recently treated myself to one of those dapper machines that turns you overnight into a barista and fills the house with the aromas of freshly made beverages.

It works  - even though I heat the cup up first on account of my asbestos-lined mouth. I savour my lovely lattes and hot chocolates and have even ordered a sprinkler to add that extra finesse.

BUT my problem is with the pods. Some drinks need 2 pods so that your purchase delivers only half the number of treats envisaged. Second criticism is that they drip after removal and, unless you have an efficient system, your rubbish bin will have a soggy bottom.

Worst of all is that they are not biodegradable. If you have 3 drinks a day that could be 6 pods going into landfill adding up to 35 per week and ... I leave the higher mathematics to you. I think this is disgraceful and that the manufacturers must tackle this issue immediately

Winter wonderland

My part of Wales, Monmouthshire, is even more beautiful and compelling in winter when the frost glints and the colours are subtle and subdued. It is so easy to get to mountains, rivers and moorland, all equally enchanting.

In the Brecon Beacons

A walk along the River Wye near Monmouth

Quite often I puzzle over why anyone goes anywhere else - but that is solipsistic! 

King Arthur

  I have become completely intrigued by the story of King Arthur. It is the mix of history and legend that is fascinating. Geoffrey of Monmouth started to popularise his life in the twelfth century and so many writers have picked up on that account and added characters, themes and detail. Something about him stirs the imagination and appeals to people of all centuries.
  Yet he has also attracted scholarly interest as academics and archaeologists try to establish where he was born, lived and died - if, indeed, he existed in reality. Any place with connections to him has become a tourist centre and the concepts of the Round Table and the Holy Grail are deeply etched in our minds.
  I am intent on reading the various versions of the narrative (probably in translation!) to see who has embellished the skeleton provided by Geoffrey. This image of him enthroned is from a set of tapestries depicting the Nine Heroes (French, late 14th century) and I have taken it from the Bellerophon Book outline, checked the colours and filled it in. His tunic shows the three crowns of England, Scotland and Brittany.
   My research on King Arthur will be posted in stages on my history blog about visits you can make by bus in Monmouthshire as there are good reasons for associating him with South East Wales, particularly Caerleon.

Bodiam Castle

I am a great fan of Welsh Castles and visit them on local bus routes. Yet I succumbed to the beauty of Bodiam reflected in its moat when I saw it last weekend.

Pity about the bunting: why do they think that's a good idea?  It has something in common with Raglan Castle in Monmouthshire as both are more of a Toff's residence than a military fortification. http://onthebusesm.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/raglan-castle.html

Imagination

One thing I find impossible to imagine in summer is a snowy winter scene. When flowers are bursting out and it's hot in bed I cannot visualise or feel the cold. Maybe this is atavistic and helps us adjust to the procession of seasons. 

Cows

I have described the disconcerting effect of being stared at by sheep. Cattle,  however, (provided they stay behind the gate) are more comprehensible. For one thing they do not remain silent but make quite loud snuffly noises as they advance. They will put their muzzles right up to the bars - it seems to me this is a gesture of greeting and I always say hello back.

Sheep

There is something both disconcerting and soothing about sheep. They look at you as if they see right through you which is discombobulating. Yet they look so like balls of  untreated fluff on their spindly legs that you soon feel rested and reassured after meeting them. They NEVER look sheepish!

A May miracle

This shrub needs no attention and yet produces these amazing blossoms every Spring. What I find astonishing is the impression of weight in light and radiantly white petals that clump together so densely. 

Chickens get peckish

                              

                                                          Come on - let's get her!

Cherry tree

I planted this cherry tree in the wrong place as other trees grew taller than it deprived it of light. Yet it kept shooting upwards into this uncharacteristic shape like a giant pink rocket. Perhaps it is in the right place after all.m