proposed bristol airport expansion…

I turned up outside the Bristol Law Courts this morning to protest at the proposed expansion of Bristol Airport. Bristol Airport's initial proposal for an extended airport terminal, and an increase in capacity from around 9 million passengers a year to 12 million, was refused planning permission by North Somerset Council's planners back in January 2020… but was subsequently allowed on Appeal by a government inspector.
Local people are against it, Local Councils are against it, local MPs are against it and yet the original decision was overturned.
Today marks the first day of a two-day Appeal against the inspector’s decision. Unlike the Airport Authority (who can happily spend big money on expensive lawyers), this Appeal has been crowd-funded by locals.
I was very impressed by the people who turned up this morning to demonstrate – articulate, passionate, amusing and very determined – but, particularly by the group of singers (perhaps 50-strong) who sang as they approached the Law Courts. It made for quite an emotional entrance. This might sound a little over-the-top but, for me, it almost felt along the lines of Greenham Common or the US civil-rights movement of the 1960s (or perhaps Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance”?). Well, it certainly worked for me!
The Climate Change Committee (CCC) is an independent, statutory body established under the Climate Change Act 2008 and it maintains that there must be “no net airport expansion” if we are to reach our legally-binding carbon budgets and our Net Zero targets.
In the current circumstances, the Inspector’s decision to overturn the original planning refusal seems to be nonsensical and unsustainable. I just hope and pray that the decision is overturned.
The ultimate irony, of course, is that the Appeal is being heard at the same time as the COP27 climate summit.   

cricket, lovely cricket…

I went to watch a day’s cricket in Bristol yesterday (Gloucestershire v league-leaders Surrey). It was the first county championship game I’d seen for two-and-a-half years (since September 2019, at Taunton) and I’ve really missed it. It’s a great shame, in my view, that season tickets aren’t available for people like me who enjoy watching just the county games (although the Twenty-20 and one-day games provide entertainment, I’m one of those old fogies who don’t think it’s ‘proper cricket’!).
Ridiculously, not bothering to purchase an online ticket in advance, I arrived 45 minutes before the start of play, proffered my bank card at the ‘gate’ for ‘swiping’, only to have to watch the attendant type lots of stuff into his laptop – including typing out my bank card details – before providing me with my ticket! He was very cheery about it all, but the whole process took some 3-4 minutes and so it was just as well there were only two people behind me!
As it happened, it was a somewhat bizarre day of few-and-far-between rewards for bowlers (just 6 wickets all day) and batsmen reaping the benefits of a good batting wicket (a double centurion, a centurion and a double-century stand). Surrey ended 603 all out and Gloucestershire 86-0*.
I love the rather pedestrian routine of cricket-watching… the almost exclusively ‘aged’ spectators – many no doubt sitting in the seat they always sit in and many of them apparently far more interested in reading their newspapers than watching the cricket! A couple of old blokes in front of me (the very talkative one announcing to all those within earshot that he was 76 years old and the other one occasionally correcting his friend’s memory!)(I changed position three times during the course of the day!) seemed to spend most of the time trying to recall various somewhat obscure sporting facts – mainly to do with football(!), such as: “Did you know that Spurs last got relegated to the second division in 1977?” or “What was the name of that Italian geezer who played for Middlesbrough in the mid-1990s?” (Ravanelli)… “and did you know he scored a hat-trick against Liverpool on his debut?”.
Oh what fun!
After lunch, one of the elderly committee members (I presumed he was ‘on the committee’ from his loud remarks about him having to “go to Lord’s next week for an important meeting”!) came to chat to a couple of nearby spectator friends of his. He was a very posh, know-it-all ‘gentleman’ who seemed to spend most of his time preparing agendas for various club-related matters (“never enough hours in the day” etc). During the course of their conversation, he described his experiences of undertaking zoom interviews with some prospective committee members (or whatever the vacancies were for): “A couple of the chaps we interviewed (note: they were ALL chaps!) were appropriately dressed in jackets and ties – they’d made an effort – but this other chap was there in his T-shirt for goodness sake!”.
How DARE he!
Obviously, I was concentrating on the cricket ALL the time.
Despite the occasional sunny intervals, it was pretty cold. I wore a thermal vest, shirt, jumper and a fleece – by mid-afternoon, a bloke sitting in the same row of seats wrapped himself in a blanket to keep warm. Hot toddies should probably have been the order of the day. In the morning, I scribbled a quick sketch of a group of nearby spectators – each of them wearing woolly hats and thick jackets… it definitely didn’t feel like cricket weather. There seems to be a huge irony for those of us who love watching county championship games that the powers-that-be have effectively relegated these fixtures to the coldest times of the season (ie. April+May and late August+September).
Who said cricket was “a summer game”!?  
PS: *I’m writing this post on the day following my cricket ‘trip’ and it seems that the bowlers continue to struggle for wickets… at lunch, Gloucestershire were 215-0!

youth climate strike…

Moira, Ruth, Felix and I (plus lots of friends we bumped into) joined Iris and her schoolfriends at College Green, Bristol at today’s Youth Climate Strike (and I know that Hannah+Ursa took part in a demonstration at Ursa’s school).
It was probably the biggest demonstration I’ve attended in our city (10,000, according to YouthStrike4Climate).
It was a global day of protest. It had been publicised weeks in advance… and, by the look of the television/newspaper/social media pictures I’ve seen, an amazing number of people from almost 150 countries turned out to make a stand and to demand urgent action from politicians before it’s too late.
It was an important, impressive, humbling day of protest.
My own generation are the guilty ones. Some of the guilt comes from lack of awareness, but much can be put down to people’s selfishness and greed.
Saying sorry isn’t enough. Obviously.

The frightening, depressing thing is that, even today (when we know so much more about climate change and its causes), some corporations, some politicians and some individuals are STILL turning a blind eye to the stark realities of the climate crisis… and putting off making crucial decisions on the basis of “promising to deal with the problem, once we’ve done X or Y”… or “it’ll be another politician’s job when I move on so, for time being, I’m not going to put the my head above the parapet (and, in the meantime, just feather my nest)”.

Clearly, some politicians feel passionately about climate change but, in all honesty, it seems that those in power (including Environment Secretaries) are simply prepared to pay lip service to the problem.

In a strange way, for some, today’s protest in Bristol was something of a metaphor for the Climate Crisis… “Climate Crisis? What Climate Crisis?” and perhaps “It’s not really going to affect me in my lifetime… I can’t do anything to change it, so I’ll ignore it”.
Three examples:
1.  We were walking into Bristol this morning with our banners/placards and a very pleasant young lady approached us to ask “what’s going on?”. “We’re going to the Youth Climate demonstration in town” we replied. The woman clearly didn’t know what we were talking about. “Have you heard of the 16 year-old Swedish environmental campaigner Greta Thunberg?” we asked. Completely blank response. “Climate Change?” Still nothing. She smiled and wished us well and we continued on our way (somewhat perplexed).
2.  Maybe I live in a bubble, but people had been talking about today’s demonstration for ‘some time’ (and especially over the past week). Surely, it would have been obvious to anyone who knew our city that there would be a large demonstration. It would have been talked about/referred to relentlessly over recent days on local radio and in local newspapers, social media etc etc. Silly me! Clearly, LOTS of motorists (mainly private cars and vans – although the local bus company obviously just ‘gave up’ until the streets returned to ‘normal’… with passengers abandoning their journeys) hadn’t a clue. Why on earth would you even dream of driving into the city centre at a time to coincide with a MASSIVE demonstration involving thousands of people? Well, let me tell you, they were there in their hundreds (thousands?)… with most of the drivers looking bewildered and frustrated. Ridiculous.
3.  This is somewhat similar to (2). Demonstrators had set off on their march around the city on a pre-planned route. Clearly, as we took to the roads, traffic came to an utter standstill. Some drivers blatantly refused to accept that they would be ‘inconvenienced’ for perhaps half an hour at the very least (there were an awful lot of people!) and kept their engines running. Very bad move… resulting in a long line of marchers chanting “engine off, engine off” as they walked past you. Humiliation. But, hey, I digress… one of these cars just happened to be a taxi… with a passenger (silly man had still to realise it would be quicker to walk)… and the meter still appeared to be running! It felt a bit like an encapsulation of the climate crisis itself – the clock is ticking and it’s now too late to do anything about it.

No doubt, we’ll hear from world leaders (there are always some exceptions… no names!) who will be applauding the enthusiasm and effectiveness of the demonstrators and will be promising to take action to do ‘stuff’. But, of course, we know it’s all hot air… pie-in-the-sky promises. Governments will NOT put their heads together at the Climate Action Summit in New York on 23 September and commit themselves to making the huge carbon dioxide reductions that are urgently needed. They’ll agree on something that ‘sounds’ quite positive (for media purposes) but, actually they’ll be saying things: “well, we’d LIKE to do more, but country A doesn’t want to play ball, so neither will we – because we don’t them to have a commercial advantage”.

The scary thing (and there are LOTS of scary things relating to Climate Change) is that, after a day of worldwide demonstrations – which will no doubt earn praise and acknowledgement from national leaders – people will feel a little like Greta Thunberg, when she addressed the Senate Climate Change Task Force earlier this week:
“Please save your praise. We don’t want it. Don’t invite us here to just tell us how inspiring we are without actually doing anything about it because it doesn’t lead to anything.
If you want advice for what you should do, invite scientists, ask scientists for their expertise. We don’t want to be heard. We want the science to be heard.
I know you are trying, but just not hard enough. Sorry.”
Action, not words… now, not soon.

morning…

My lovely friend Mags recently gave me a book called “Morning”. It’s written by Allan Jenkins – who, like me, is an early riser (and, unlike me, regularly does a little light gardening at 5am in soft light!). The book’s cover contains the following words from the author: “This is my manifesto for morning. There is an energy in the earlier hours, an awareness I enjoy. In today’s world we tend to wake as late as we can, timed to when we have to work. But we don’t need to chase the day”. In the book, he ‘talks’ to a number of other early risers who are asked to reply to a standard set of questions.

I thought it would be fun to try to answer these questions for myself, so here goes:

First, could you tell me a little about yourself?
Retired architect (I ran my own Practice in Buckinghamshire for nearly 30 years), married to Moira, three daughters, six grandchildren… enjoy sketching, taking photographs and walking. We’ve lived in Bristol for 16 years and are a 10 minute walk to the harbourside.
What time do you wake up (and why)?
It varies. I’ve always been an early riser. During my ‘working life’, I would invariably wake up at 5.10am (really!), and it’s still very much the same since I ‘properly’ retired in 2011 (although my waking time varies from 3.30am to 6am). I love the early mornings… it feels like ‘bonus time’ – especially since I retired.
Do you have a morning ritual?
If I wake VERY early, I might read for a while… but usually I get up as soon as I wake. I go downstairs, unbolt the front door, open the living room curtains, take my medication, put two rounds of bread in the toaster and make myself a coffee (something between a double espresso and a small Americano). I check out the news online (briefly), post a status update on facebook and post my daily blog (a photograph and a drawing on alternate days – a daily ‘ritual’ that’s now been going for very nearly 7 years, with well over 2,500 images). Then I usually go back to bed and read for an hour or so (these days I read something like 90 books a year).
How does being awake early affect your life?
Waking up early really does feel like a bonus. I love looking at the morning sky each day; I love listening to our local blackbird singing its heart out from dawn; I love being aware of the changing seasons and changing positions (and times) of the sunrise. Every day I feel as if I’ve ‘achieved’ things long before most people have arrived at work (one of the bonuses of retirement!) and feel pretty relaxed about fitting in all the other stuff I/we get up to in our regular activities. During my ‘working life’, I tended to breakfast and drive into the office early (by 6am if I could, as the children got older); I think I was driven by a sense of being able to get lots done before everyone else had started work (and without interruptions). Looking back - having established a rather different, more relaxed, morning routine in my retirement – I do have some regrets that I was perhaps ‘too driven’ and that my work/life balance wasn’t ideal.
What time do you sleep?
These days, I frequently go to be VERY early (sometimes before 9pm)(I know!) and read for up to an hour (in the main, with a few exceptions, television bores me!).
Does your sleep vary through the year?
Not really… but perhaps my ‘rising time’ extends by the odd quarter of an hour during the winter months?
Has your sleep pattern changed?
During most of my working life, I would be in bed between say 10pm and midnight and would be perfectly happy with perhaps 4-5 hours sleep a night (with occasional catch-ups at weekends?)… but, these days, I need more sleep time (even though I tend to wake quite frequently during the night).
Is the light important?
Yes. I love to see the bright morning sky shine through the curtains (the sun shining through the stained glass propped up on the window cill and casting coloured shadows on to the curtains). Drab, grey days definitely ‘pull me down’ somewhat.
What do you like least about being awake early?
I really can’t think of anything negative about waking up early.
How would you sum up your thoughts on your mornings in 100 words or less?
I absolutely love early mornings. I get a real sense of new beginnings and new opportunities (that sounds a little corny doesn’t it!). Early morning walks (frequently around the harbourside in my case) are very special. It often feels a bit like a secret world and there’s part of me that wants to keep it that way and not to tell anyone else about it!

the revenant

I went along to the Watershed this afternoon to see Alejandro Inarritu’s “The Revenant” film, starring Leonardo DiCaprio (as Hugh Glass) and Tom Hardy (as John Fitzgerald), “based” on a true story of American frontiersman/fur trapper/explorer in the 1820s who was badly mauled by a bear and ultimately abandoned by two men (who’d been charged with looking after him until he died and then to bury him – the senior man being Fitzgerald). Remarkably, Glass ended up patching himself up (as best he could) and crawled/walked more than 200 miles in 7 weeks to the nearest American settlement.
Actually, you don’t “watch” the film, you “experience” it!
Visually and cinematically, it’s a pretty amazing film - with stunning scenery, severe weather and breath-taking action.
It’s VERY long (156 minutes – I felt very sorry for elderly couple who had to leave just 5 minutes before the end!!) and I definitely felt that it could have been shortened without reducing the impact of the story. In addition, it certainly hasn’t been short of controversy: it appears to have gone significantly over budget (reports reckon costs have risen from some $95million to $135million); large numbers of crew quit or had been fired; and, apparently, they also had to contend with the “wrong kind of snow”!
As you’d expect from an actor who’s just won a Golden Globe for his Revenant performance, DiCaprio is very good. But, actually, his performance (due to his injuries) means he can hardly speak for much of the film and, frankly, I can groan, moan and crawl with the best of them!
Despite the awe-inspiring scenery and the excessively bloody action shots, I wasn’t as impressed as I’d anticipated.
Very good, but maybe just a little less than 4 stars for me (but, hey, what do I know!?)?
PS: I was going to say that I “went on my own” but (I suspect due to the film’s popularity with the punters) I watched it in the Watershed’s tiny Cinema 2 – every seat was taken – so, believe me, I was definitely aware of having “company”!

golfing again… at last!

I played golf for only the second time in 27 months on Sunday. Ken, Steve+I played at my old Studley Wood Golf Club… on a most wonderful, sunny, cloudless March afternoon. My golf was pretty awful (theirs was rather good!), but it was just great to be on a golf course again… and with two of my very best friends.

120 days of dawns…

In a rather haphazard way, back in January, I decided to start taking photographs from our bathroom window of the sky just before sunrise. I’m always up pretty early and I’d noticed some beautiful skies at this time of day – yes, sunrises are often stunning, but I’m talking about the 20 minutes or so leading up to sunrise (and, anyway, sunrises seemed too straightforward!). This developed into an idea for a whole-year project – perhaps a dawn photograph of the same view taken EVERY day for the whole of 2014? But this was clearly impractical – what about holidays? Weekends away etc? So I eventually opted for taking photographs on 10 consecutive days every month.

After three months you get to appreciate that morning sun changes position(!), so I realised that I probably needed to have two distinct views to take account of this (which, after 12 months, now seems entirely justified). As you might imagine, some mornings produce nothing more than grey murk but, on other occasions, the skies can really be quite magical. 
In the end, I developed a sort of routine - probably taking three photographs most mornings, after setting the alarm on my mobile phone to ring on “snooze mode” at five minute intervals say 20, 15 and 10 minutes before sunrise.
I absolutely LOVE skies (and not just the early morning and sunset ones) and it’s been fascinating to watch how they change – literally from one minute to the next. The year-long process has also underlined how much beauty we all FAIL to see or appreciate… it’s all too easy to wake and register that the sun is shining or that it’s another grey day or whatever. Over the course of the past 12 months, there have been SO many fleeting, beautiful treasured early morning moments that so few people have witnessed (obviously, mainly due to them being asleep!)… and it’s at that time, as sunrise approaches, the sky is probably at its most beguiling and surprising.
It’s been a very enjoyable project… and one that I’ll rather miss. Another of life’s simple pleasures.
Photo: 120 days of dawns – January-December 2014.

drimnin+iona (1-12 June 2013)

I’ve been reflecting on a wonderful time that Moira+I have spent with great friends Bob+Christine at the Old Schoolhouse, Drimnin (thanks to Richard+Sarah’s generosity). The last time Moira+I were there was the summer of 2006, but this holiday echoed a time we spent here with B+C fifteen years ago. It’s a stunning location – situated some 11 miles west of Lochaline on the Scottish mainland, looking across the Sound of Mull towards Tobermory on Mull (near enough to make out the town’s colourful, harbour facades).

You do NOT venture into Scotland without being prepared for very wet (and cold?) weather and so, we duly armed ourselves with waterproofs, fleeces, thermals and plenty of jumpers. What we experienced was very, very different…
We had wonderful, warm, sustained SUNSHINE every single day (intermittent on the first day and mixed with some brief showers on our final day). Apart from one day (when we had an excellent lunch on the terrace at the Fish Café in Tobermory), we had a daily picnic lunch. We spent huge amounts of time sitting in the garden reading – or, from time to time for me, drawing.
We did plenty of walking – although I did feel somewhat restricted due to my hip/leg problems – towards Aluston Point, the Old Castle, Ardtornish House gardens, St Columba’s Chapel, beside Loch Arienas/Teacuis and Tobermory (as well as countless walks along the shoreline).
We also spent two lovely days on Iona – staying at The Argyll Hotel (at last!). Stunning sunshine, the beauty of the island and a chance to catch up with some very good friends (made during my time volunteering there last year). Again, picnic lunches consumed at the stunning Port Ban beach and at North End.
We’ve seen plenty of wildlife – including, THREE eagles (together, and between say 100-250m from Old Schoolhouse), several red/roe(?) deer (one relaxing in the garden for some TWO HOURS in the early morning of our last full day), a pine martin (again, in the garden… twice), a porpoise (well, almost certainly,… near Tobermory), a jay and at least a couple of common sandpipers… plus buzzards, herons, ravens etc!
I think the overriding memories – as well as very enjoyable times with very good friends – were a) the simply AMAZING number of bluebells, wild garlic and gorse, b) the sound of bees, birdsong and boats, c) the vibrant sunsets, d) meeting up with old friends on Iona and e) the incredible weather.
We feel very blessed.
Photo: trying to convey some of the good times with a bundle of holiday images.

 

 

st ives

High winds, wild seas, colours, space, lack of crowds, bright sunshine and dramatic clouds, Tate Café, art, time, comfort, gentle routine, conversation, reading, walking, drawing, eating and drinking… just a few of the things Moira+I enjoyed during our stay in one of our favourite places.

Ruth, Stu, Iris+Rosa joined us for a couple of days at the start of the week – and we all enjoyed walking along beaches and watching wild seas.
We love being in St Ives when, by and large, it’s empty of other “tourists”. The other mainstays at this time of year seem to be teams and teams of builders (and their vans!) – undertaking property improvements and repairs. Perhaps that’s the one slight, inevitable regret – the fact that so few people actually live in St Ives these days (although Moira did meet someone!) and that the vast majority of properties are now holiday homes.
Having said that, we have clearly benefitted from this fact over SEVERAL years and, this year, our time at Valentine Cottage (owned by friends Matt+Pippa) was a complete delight!
An important of my diary routine was arriving at the Tate Café just as it opened (at 10am) and sitting at the window table overlooking Porthmeor Beach – drinking coffee and looking out over turquoise seas, white sand… and getting on the internet! Enough said.
Another special time in a special place.

there won’t be any snow+ice this winter…

I can exclusively reveal that it’s virtually certain that this winter will be snow- and ice-free (well, in the south-west anyway) – thanks to a cunning plan conjured up by Moira+me. We’ve “invested” in some “winterwise 10-stud ice traction universal slip-on snow and ice spikes” (see photograph!). They cost just £2.49 a pair (in case you were wondering, as oldies, we’ve been able to afford these by using up part of our winter fuel allowance!) and represent our cast-iron guarantee that, now we’re prepared for the worst the winter can throw at us, it'll be an usually mild winter period.

You heard it here first…
PS: Obviously, we haven't been able to test them out yet...

settling in

Well, although I only arrived on Iona last Wednesday, it feels as if I’ve already been here much, much longer (in a nice way)! I’ve been introduced to what seems like a bewildering number of new colleagues from all over the world, but don’t seem to be able to remember anyone’s names! As far as nationalities are concerned, for instance, I’m living in a houses shared by 12 volunteers – from Paraguay, Japan, Germany, Canada, USA, Scotland, the Czech Republic (two), Australia (two) and England (two)!
My volunteering role over the next two months is working in the community shop (essentially books and “gifts”) and I’m really lucky to be with some really lovely colleagues who are sympathetic to my lack of cash register skills!
Guests are generally on the island for a week at a time and it’s rather lovely how friendships, albeit very brief, develop in that time over meals and the like (in my case, even if it was over a couple of days last week) – lots of hugging as the community staff and visitors waved guests off from the jetty on Friday!
We’ve been amazingly lucky with the weather so far, but this will no doubt change in the course of the next few days – last week’s guests all went home with suntans.
Photo: early morning view (30m from my back door!).
PS: The birdlife on the island is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately, my bird-spotting skills are poor in the extreme so, hopefully (with the help of the odd reference book), this will be something I’ll be able to work on over the coming weeks. Amongst those I’ve seen thus far: golden eagle and buzzard (on Mull); curlew, cuckoo, crow and corncrake (I’m very proud of this because, apparently, although you hear them all the time here, you very rarely get to see them!).

pre-christmas family get-together…. almost

As you can imagine with three married daughters and with their various other family commitments and complicated schedules, the opportunities for us all to get together at Christmas are relatively rare. Yesterday was due to be one of those key occasions – it might not coincide with the “proper” Christmas holiday period but, for us, it was going to be very special. Alice+Dave etc were due to come to stay for a couple of days but, unfortunately, due to the horrendous weather conditions that have disrupted so many people’s holiday plans, they were forced to abandon their attempts to drive down from Lancashire in the snow and ice (the prospect of being “trapped” in traffic with young children for hours on end were rightly considered untenable). As you might imagine, we were (and still are) left feeling very sad by how things turned out. Despite this, we decided to continue with our family supper arrangements last night (it was Felix’s night off from performing at the Tobacco Factory Theatre and Stu managed to get back safely from a crucial glass installation meeting in London – albeit he missed the main course, poor man!) and it WAS lovely.
We count our blessings as a family… and Alice+Dave were definitely with us in spirit last night – just very sad that they weren’t actually there to hug!
Photo: Iris attempting to catch snowflakes on her tongue earlier in the day.

brean down

It was raining AGAIN when I got up yesterday. I was determined that the weather wasn’t going to deter me, so decided that I’d drive to the coast and take a lengthy walk along a beach in the rain, wearing my wonderful wet-weather garb. So I got dressed, made myself a flask of coffee, collected up my waterproofs and boots and drove off into the gloom. I decided to head off to Brean Down. Amazingly, before I’d even turned off the motorway, the rain had stopped. The sun was trying to shine. I felt strangely cheated!
So I ended up walking along the beach to Barrow and back and then climbed up on to Brean Down itself and walked virtually to the tip of the headland (great panoramic views – apart from the caravan sites!). By now, of course, it was a wonderfully clear, bright, sunny day…. and the waterproofs remained in my bag the entire time!
Photo: "mountain" goats on the down!

another snowday!

Woke up about 3am and peered out the bedroom window to discover a magical white world. Somewhat bizarrely (I WAS awake I hasten to add!), three hours later I found myself standing in the middle of our street in almost childlike wonder and surrounded by complete silence apart from the beautiful sound of my feet padding about in the virgin snow. We’d had two or three inches of snow overnight and so it wasn’t a great surprise to find that the school was closed and that we’d got our second snowday of the week!
Strange to think that, in my former self-employed, architectural life, I would have been in the office as usual by 6.30-7.00am on such days (having travelled in the long way round to avoid the hills) and ready for a full day’s work. The great thing about school snowdays is that I feel completely guiltless and it’s a lovely feeling!
Photo: figures in the snow at Greville Smyth Park.

snowday/birthday

This is my fourth year working at Norton Hill. Before today, we’ve had only one “special circumstances” day off – a wind day when high winds were blowing ridge tiles some 50m across the playground and were clearly a risk to life and limb. You’re only 60 once in your life and the odds on you being allowed a “special day” off school are clearly incredibly rare. So yesterday’s official “snow day” came as both a surprise and a huge bonus, Through a flurry of text messages, an impromptu lunchtime get-together was arranged in the Watershed (attended by about a dozen or so); the sun shone; and I had an absolutely perfect 60th birthday. The downside was that Moira tripped and fell on the way to the Watershed and decided to return home to a hot bath instead. After about one-and-a-half glasses of red(?), I duly returned home with Iris and sat down with Hannah+Felix+Ruth+Stu+Iris+Moira to consume yet more lovely birthday grub.
Photo: some of the non-teaching Watershed lunchtime crowd (plus Hannah+Iris).