John & Mandy suggested that we visit Saffron Walden for the dual purpose of seeing The Sixteen perform at Saffron Hall and to allow John to cook for us in his newly-extended kitchen…
…a kitchen so comprehensively extended that their home now appears to be a kitchen with some other rooms extended onto the kitchen, rather than a house with a kitchen extension:
Mandy & Me, with John (cooking) just visible in the distance
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
15th Going On 16th Century Cottage
Janie and I decided to make this a “proper short break”, arranging three nights in a properly old cottage, Drake’s Cottage, in the medieval part of town. The headline photo shows a picture of the outside of the cottage, inside the cottage. It dates back to 1461, making it even older than the 1480’s place we stayed in at Stratford a few weeks ago…
…although in truth most of what remains appears to be a major rebuild from the 1530’s, around the time the bigger houses in the Myddlyton part of town were built. In any case, it is seriously wonky compared with proper mock Tudor such as our 1930’s Noddyland abode:
Proper mock Tudor with proper straight lines
We arrived later than intended on the Thursday afternoon. I was keen to get to the cottage before dark, as I am now really averse to driving on country roads when it is dark or even dusky. We didn’t quite make it, although you could argue that it was still dusky…just “well dusky” when we arrived rather than “proper dark”.
As we were self-catering, I was keen to do a bit of rudimentary cooking for a change, so knocked up a prawn and pea pappardelle dish with a large salad.
We took our time before venturing out on the Friday, but did some strolling at our own pace and went to find the market square with a view to returning there the next day to see the market.
Ah, there it isSelfie showing our smug “we can find a market square” faces
I offered to host John & Mandy for drinks and grub at our humble cottage before and after the concert at Saffron Hall, an offer which was gratefully accepted. A mixture of wild and posh farmed smoked salmon on mini bagels with a Pouilly-Vinzelles pre show.
Sixteen Going On 17th Century: Monteverdi, Vespers of 1610, The Sixteen, Saffron Hall, 8 November 2024
Part of this gargantuan piece, the Ave Maris Stella and the Magnificat, was probably the first Monteverdi music I ever heard, as it came as part of a collection of music records/subscription booklets that Uncle Michael gave me when I was a small child:
I still have that record and booklet. You can hear that version of the Magnificat digitised here:
Magnificat
I have a feeling that my dad wasn’t overjoyed by my affinity with early 17th century sacred music, hence him seeking out and getting me into Monteverdi madrigals instead:
Mandy must have been very keen to hear The Sixteen that evening, because she looked super-excited when the lights went down, I shut up and Harry Christophers strode onto the stage.
Back at our cottage, I had prepared a supper of charcuterie and cheeses, with a rather jolly bottle of Chocolate Block.
Our luxury medieval cottage
A super evening.
Saffron Walden Market, Bridge End Gardens & Dinner At John & Mandy’s Place, 9 November
Mandy & John supplemented advice we had already received about what to do on a Saturday in Saffron Walden, before heading to their place for John’s cheffy dinner.
I’ll tell the story mostly in pictures, as I have written more than enough words already:
The condiment lady sold us two types of balsamic vinegarSt Mary the Virgin, the tallest spire and largest organ in all Essex apparentlyParish buildingsStrolling the old town
Then into the Bridge End Gardens…
We were getting quite cold, so we didn’t attempt the maze in Bridge End Gardens.
Probably just as well – as a few hours later – we even managed to get lost in the relatively simple maze of streets between our cottage and the John & Mandy residence. Eventually John came out to rescue us in the street.
Look closely and you can see all four of us in this pictureJohn hard at work preparing our amuse-boucheFood Porn Photo One: theamuse-boucheFood Porn Photo Two: sea bass starterFood Porn Photo Three: beef fillet with celeriac & beansFood Porn Photo Four: tiramisu that tasted far better than it looksIAN: Cheese? Are you kidding? JOHN: You’ve no stamina these days, Ian
It was a really enjoyable evening. Indeed it was a really enjoyable and much needed short break for me and Janie.
If you want to see all 70+ photos from this trip, click the Flickr link below and scroll away:
Mason’s Court, Built c1485, Occupied by me & Janie from c1615 on 13 October 2024
Janie and I both love spending time in Stratford-Upon-Avon and don’t need much of an excuse (usually something interesting at the theatre) to arrange a short visit to the place.
Indeed, our first short break together, just a few weeks after we met, was in Stratford-Upon-Avon – in a B&B of the old-fashioned variety:
Subsequently we tried most of the better hotels in Stratford, until I discovered Airbnb for some of my/our other short breaks and tried that approach in spring this year:
Janie discovered Mason’s Court while e-rummaging on our previous trip and I agreed that I should try and secure that place for our next trip if I was able.
I was able.
You can see from the headline picture that this wonky so-called Tudor design predates the more linear Mock Tudor that followed it:
Noddyland, Built c1930, Occupied by me and Janie c2011
Our hosts had clearly done due diligence on us and wanted to make me to feel at home by putting up a portrait of me in the dining room:
When depicted from the correct angle, it is almost impossible to distinguish between the two images:
But joking apart, we loved staying in Mason’s Court, despite and because of its genuine late-medieval wonkiness and deference to “Shakespeare-pilgrims”, as a large proportion of the house guests no doubt come from that cohort.
On the first evening we had booked to have dinner at The Opposition, as we had tried Lambs for the first time in decades on our previous visit. We like both of those places a lot and were not disappointed by the quality of the food and service at The Opposition, still, after all these years.
Monday 14 October 2024
Despite the promise of good weather for our trip, the weather gods chose to drizzle upon us for almost the entirety of our short visit this time, confounding our planned trip or two to the tennis club. Indeed we left the tennis equipment in Dumbo throughout our stay, as he was blessed with a private parking space and police protection to go with it:
Dumbo is discretely secreted just beyond the police sign
We knew we were seeing a long play on the Monday and had brought grub with us for a light meal of smoked fishes on our return from the play.
During one of the breaks in the rain we made a short trip to the shops (five minutes walk) to get one or two additional provisions, including stocking up on cheap confectionary for the impending Halloween invasion at Noddyland:
Our fishy supper at Mason’s Court was a delight and we both felt we had earned a glass or few of wine after more than two-and-a-half hours of The New Real.
Tuesday 15 October 2024
More drizzle, but heck, we had some lovely provisions in for lunch (including some very tasty bread from MOR.)
We had also made an executive decision to try The Giggling Squid for dinner as a takeaway, given that the restaurant was two or three minutes walk from our place and we had such a lovely environment in which to dine at home.
Further, I had brought Benjy The Baritone Ukulele with me and felt inspired by the Chandos “Shakespeare” portrait in Mason’s Court to lay down a lyric sung to the traditional tune The Mason’s Apron, the lyric being – Oor Hamlet by Adam McNaughton. (The latter link has the original version of McNaughton’s performance and lyrics). My version owes also to Martin Carthy’s version, with the Scots lingo toned down a bit. Here’s mine:
Not my finest performance, but something I felt compelled to get out of my system.
The staff at Giggling Squid were delightful and helped us to choose a very tasty meal. We’d certainly be happy…keen even…to try some more of their Thai food on a future visit.
Wednesday 16 October 2024
Still drizzling in Stratford but the weather forecast told us that London would be different…
…which it was.
So we did finally get a game of tennis during this short break, but back on our regular courts in London. Which is sort-of how the break started, as we played on Sunday morning before setting off for Stratford. So it goes.
We have another short autumn break in a 15th Century cottage in an old market town lined up very soon…watch this space, readers!
Robert Muir tapped me up for this late March Sunday tennis match at Petworth. I realised that it would make an excellent “excuse” for us (me and Janie) to enjoy a short break in Sussex, having done nothing of that kind for so many months.
I hired, through Air B’n’B, what looked like and turned out to be a charming old cottage in Fittleworth for a few days.
Saturday 25 March – Limping From London To Fittleworth, Then Dining In Petworth
Janie and I played our regular game of (modern) tennis on the Saturday morning and set off after a light lunch.
The adventure did not start well.
Dumbo, The Suzuki Jimny, who had recently had a flat tyre & wheel change, let us know as soon as he went over 40 mph that he was not going to be happy at speed, juddering like crazy. Dumbo is well known around London as a pandemic hero…
…but his popularity on and beyond the M25, juddering along at 35-40 mph. was not evident. People were hooting and gesticulating at us.
Daisy got on the mobile phone, trying to locate garages or “tyre services” near to our location on the M25/M3, with limited success, until someone in goodness knows where recommended someone in Guildford, who suggested that we were nearer to Aldershot…
…two keen lads at Aldershot Kwikfit identified that the problem was tyre-balancing and thought that their machine was not working properly because the imbalance appeared “off the scale”. I guessed that the tyre dude in Acton had sold us a dud, so we decided to limp on to Fittleworth and take stock on Monday.
A sliver of Peshwari Nan, me dear?
We commissioned Sue’s cabs (a two-car, husband & wife combination, in which the wife seems very much in charge…we were allocated husband Charles) to take us to and from our Fittleworth cottage to Basmati in the Petworth Market Square – suitably located next door to the Co-op where we could get some basic supplies for our few days.
We had an excellent meal, comprising Peshwari nan & papadoms to start, followed by chicken tikka shobuz (Daisy’s choice), jatt lamb (my choice) tarkha dhaal and lemon rice. A very juicy Malbec helped to wash all of that down and some very friendly and helpful staff served it all.
Anyway, Robert had kindly arranged for me (and a couple of other Dedanists who had ventured far for this fixture) to play two short rubbers rather than one, which added to the fun.
Kim Walker and Me for the DedanistsA sweet win, coming from behind
Between my two short rubbers, a fine lunch of pies and veg, produced in ample quantities by Robert and Carole.
I partnered Chris Marguerie in the second of my rubbers, which was closer than the first but, much like that first rubber, a victory despite being behind for most of the rubber.
Janie was absolutely rapt with attention during that second rubber of mine. Unfortunately, she was paying attention to Nigel Pendrigh and discussing all manner of paramedical matters rather than hanging on my every shot. What a strange way to spend your time at a real tennis match.
Joking apart, the whole event was wonderfully convivial time with old friends and new, as well as good fun tennis, which is just as such friendly matches should be.
We snacked light that evening back at our little cottage, enjoying the peace and privacy and the rather fruity bottle of white depicted above, courtesy of our host.
Monday 27 March – A Day In Petworth
At the tennis match, we discussed Dumbo’s little problem with several of the locals. Robert and most of the others were emphatic..
speak with Alan at Market Square Garage in Petworth tomorrow.
…so we did; first thing. Alan said he’d give it a try.
Alan’s Dumbo diagnosis was that the dud tyre was “off the scale unbalanced” and needed replacing. He also pointed out that the spare, upon which I had been unconsciously pinning my hopes for several years, was also a dud and would not be a safe replacement. I asked him to order and replace two, such that I’d have a matching pair at the front and the older front tyre that was not a dud could become a useable spare.
Alan told us that the tyres would definitely arrive at some point that afternoon, enabling him to complete the job, but it could be any time in the afternoon.
Thus our plans were laid. We would do our day of walking around Petworth House, Gardens and Deer Park. Worse things could happen to us on a beautiful sunny spring day, two minutes walk from the entrance to Petworth House & Park.
Two minutes later…the park entrance
At the park entrance, we happened upon Martin, who is the head gardener for the grounds. He and Janie had quite a long conversation about plants, shrubs and trees, quite a bit of which was in Latin. I understood “daffodils”, “ponds”, “deer”, “landscape”, “Capability Brown” and a few other words.
Probably best I tell the next part of the story in pictures more than words.
Mostly my pictures around the deer park – one or two are Janie’s. It is a shame my tennis shots are not as consistent as my photo shots.
After that long walk around the deer park we were ready for an early lunch, so we parted company with the entrance fees and entered the house and gardens.
We were persuaded to join a short talk about J.M.W. Turner in the card room first.
Janie savoured this unlikely scene of cricketers and fallow deer in front of the pond
Then we took an early lunch. Just as well we went early – we managed to get a table and our choice of grub: tuna jacket-tater for Daisy, za’atar chicken bap for me. But before we had finished our grub, another couple asked to share our table and they discovered that almost all of the food was sold out…at around 12:50. (Blame Brexit/Covid/Putin/rail strikes).
Then we had a look around the servants’ quarters, not least the old kitchens, which were fascinating and rather stunning in their own way. Janie coveted some of the larger pieces of equipment which were almost as big as our entire kitchen.
More copper than the Met Police“Looks real. Are you SURE we can’t eat it?”The SculleryStill RoomJanie showed our age by confessing that she did a holiday job as a kid for a wealthy, elderly couple who had a communications system that looked just like this
Then we looked at a small modern art exhibition.
Janie’s gloves were well colour-co-ordinated with several of the pictures
Refreshed and mentally stimulated, we set off for a second walk – this time around the pleasure gardens part. A slightly shorter, similar loop to our morning walk, but very different look in the pleasure garden.
Daffodils – see, I did understand what they had been talking aboutIs that the village idiot or did Daisy just twig the folly of the Doric Temple?Is that the Petworth rough sleeper or were the exertions now catching up with Ged?Approaching the RotundaA thrush at surprisingly close quarters
Along the way, we encountered the gardeners again. Janie asked one of them about a particular shrub, to which he said…
…oh yes, you’re the couple that was talking to Martin earlier. I’m not entirely sure, but Martin will know…
MARTIN (from behind a larger bush): Enkanthus perulaus…
…so now we all know. Was Martin following us around?
Not sure, but when I stopped to take the following picture…
…I heard the gardeners’ buggy coming, stopped, stood to attention, saluted and got well splashed by the puddle they went through. Janie, from a safe distance, saw the whole episode unfolding and could not stop laughing for a while. Nor could I. They must have thought that I was a right twit of a city boy!
Once Janie stopped laughing, I took her photo with that magnolia:
Soon we were back at the house and in need of a little more refreshment – i.e. a cup of coffee to perk ourselves up – before looking at the bits of the main house we hadn’t seen before lunch:
ChapelThe Leconfield ChaucerMing, Italianate and Japanese thingsExceptional murals on the grand staircaseSt.Mary’s Petworth, as seen from that staircase
We then left Petworth House, wondering where we might go to while away the time until Alan had prepared Dumbo. Just as we were walking through the exit door into the town, my phone went. Dumbo was ready for us.
Dumbo’s new found friends at Alan’s place
Dumbo seemed a little reluctant to leave his new found friends. To be honest, he’s been getting ideas above his service station ever since he encountered the following mob in a car park a couple of week’s ago:
Two Lamborghinis, Dumbo and a red Ferrari. That’s Waitrose Bayswater for you
But I digress. We’d had a super day.
Tuesday 28 March – Brighton, Hove & Home
The weather turned yukky again on the Tuesday, but that didn’t really effect us. We rose quite early, checked out of our sweet little cottage in Fittleworth and went to see Sidney & Joan in Hove, via a short stop at Pendulum in Brighton, where Janie likes to treat me to some louder, fancier clothing than I would ever treat myself. This was a successful visit – three shirts, three pairs of troos and a pair of boat shoes.
Trigger warning: you might need sunglasses for my shirts if you run across me this summer.
Nothing looks colourful on a gloomy day, but Daisy thought the car in front of us was well colour-co-ordinated with the Brighton lamp posts
Then lunch with Sidney and Joan, for the first time since before the pandemic, which is too long of course. It was lovely to see them again and we chatted about many things, not least family stories from way back when. Word had reached Sidney about his Uncle Sid’s revived fame as a saw player, explain and linked within the following:
Lunch and the afternoon flew by, which left only the journey home and an early night, as Janie and I were both tired but very satisfied at the end of our short break.
Well I might “have my connoisseur face on” in the above photograph, as Opheem is a Michelin starred Indian restaurant in Birmingham and there Janie and I were taking it all in.
I mean ALL in.
I’m in
We were sensible enough to book the five course tasting menu, not the 10 course one. Had we booked the latter I think we’d have needed to be removed from the restaurant on stretchers.
“Five course” tasting menu is a bit of a misnomer, as we were also treated to diverse, wonderful nibbles and amuse-gueules – a great many of those before we even got to course number one.
The first of many nibblesMore nibblesYet more nibblesMe nibblingFishy melange in the style of a cheesecake nibbleWhen we are finally seated in the restaurant, we get an amuse-gueule[Insert your own corny joke about this amusel-guele here]The five course menu – we are finally going on piste
Actually, before we had that amazing pineapple & coconut thing, we had a sweet amuse-gueule that was well photogenic.
The staff were super friendly and very knowledgeable about the food. We didn’t do the wine pairing thing, but the staff were able to recommend some excellent wine choices for us which for sure went well with the food.
Aktar Islam (left) & his team
After the meal, petit fours back in the lounge area.
Thoughtful…or nodding off?
Fabulous meal. This place is certainly deserving of its star.
Gresham Society Walking Tour Of Thomas Gresham’s City, 15 June 2022
Coffee houses came after Gresham, but Sir Thomas’s grasshopper persisted
It was a super idea, for the Gresham Society to get back into the swing of face-to-face activities by having a walking tour. When people arrange such events, they don’t normally anticipate 15 June being one of the hottest days of the year, but by gosh it was blistering.
Our guide took pity on us and tended to stand us in shady spots, even if at some distance from the location she was describing, to minimise our time in the sun.
I noted that she omitted to mention 1 King William Street (the current location of Z/Yen’s office) as a Thomas Gresham place, although it was the original location of The Gresham Club.
In truth, most of the tour might have been interpreted as a tour of Z/Yen offices, once we had progressed from the Royal Exchange. We didn’t get as far as St Helen’s Church, where Sir Thomas now resides, but Z/Yen was located in St Helen’s Place overlooking that church, for 16 years (1995 to 2011), following our initial short stop at 31 Gresham Street (1994 to 1995). We also strolled past 41 Lothbury (Z/Yen 2016 to 2022) and looked at the site of the old college on the corner of Gresham Street and Basinghall Street (Z/Yen 2011 to 2016).
There really should be a series of Z/Yen & Gresham plaques around that central part of the City.
The chat covered the period after Gresham as well as the Tudor period, so we learnt about coffee houses and the establishment of modern banks, insurance companies and exchanges.
The tour was a wonderful opportunity to stroll and look around the City – I have walked around the City plenty in my time but usually with “head down purpose” rather than head up, taking in the sights. For example, I had never previously noticed the carved Gresham grasshopper in the stone towards the back of The Royal Exchange, only having noticed the glistening gold grasshopper at the top of the tower.
Note the stone grasshopper left as well as the golden hopper atop
From Gresham Street and a look at The Guildhall, a stroll down Old Jewry to Mercers’ Hall, where Mike Dudgeon, mercer and Greshamista, hosted us for tea and gave us a fascinating guided tour of the hall.
.
Peppered with some superb anecdotes from Mercers’ history and Mercers’ legend, this last part of the tour was a feast for our ears and our eyes…and our backsides, after a couple of hours on our feet walking around!
Joking apart, it was wonderful to do a Gresham Society outing and spend time with those interesting, friendly Gresham Society people again. Also, for me, it was the ideal half-holiday to initiate my short break.
A Wander Around Central Birmingham Before Dinner With Janie, 16 June 2022
Birmingham Museum & Art gallery
Earlier we stopped in Leamington allowing me to play (and Janie to shoot some videos of) a spot of real tennis – the Strange Case of Dr Robson & Mr Hyde against me and Charlie at doubles…
…followed by lunch with the Leamington fellas.
That still gave me and Janie plenty of time to get to our Harborne Road Air B’nB and then stroll off towards our restaurant through central Birmingham.
We witnessed a dance festival for a while
On our way to Chamberlain Square, we spotted a dance festival and had a quick look. Then on to that central square area where the Museum (see above), Town Hall (now a concert hall) and Chamberlain Memorial hove into view.
Town Hall & Chamberlain Memorial
We were keen to get to our restaurant on time, so took a photo of Queen Victoria in Victoria Square from a distance. Normally she looks like this – click here – but she has been “reimagined all at sea” for the Commonwealth Games, so now looks more like the following:
We can surely be forgiven for not hanging around, as we were on our way to Opheem Restaurant for a very special treat. I shall write that meal up soon enough.
Perhaps only subscribers can see the above piece but here, on fair use principles, is the sentence that made me gulp my coffee:
In that role of peacemaker, he also trekked in 2011 into the forests of Chhattisgarh to oversee the handover by Maoist rebels of five abducted policemen.
Janie and I were in Chhattisgarh in February that year. Intrigued, I Googled the incident to see if, as I suspected, it occurred when we were there and near where we were.
So, the hostages were taken on 25 January 2011 and a hostage crisis started to unfold in Narayanpur on 3 February when demands were made by the Maoists and interventions planned by Agnivesh and others.
Janie and I were due to visit Narayanpur for market day on 6 February, but our host, Jolly, assured us that it would not be a good idea to go there and said he had revised our itinerary to see equally or even more interesting tribal people and markets nearer to Bastar.
Of course, we had been warned before we travelled to Chhattisgarh that it was a politically volatile place and that our itinerary might be subject to last minute change.
But what a wonderful day we had on the back of that change.
And how extraordinary to learn, after nearly 10 years, that the reason for that change was a hostage crisis that was being resolved by one of our human rights heros in the place we were supposed to visit.
We can’t (in practical terms) travel at the moment, during the pandemic, but Janie and I were all-but transported, through time and space, back to that 2011 adventure of ours in the central plains of India. Invigorating, it was.
My favourite novel that uses mistaken identity as its central plot device is Scoop by Evelyn Waugh. William Boot, a genteel nature correspondent, is sent as a foreign correspondent to Ishmaelia, a crisis-ridden East African country, as he has been mistaken for his adventurous distant cousin, John Boot. There are predictably hilarious results.
Ishmaelia is a thinly veiled fictional version of Abyssinia, now known as Ethiopia, a place that Evelyn Waugh had visited in 1930 as a special correspondent for The Times. Waugh wrote up his African travels in a wonderfully funny book, Remote People.
In one amusing scene, when Waugh and his entourage had travelled into the heart of Ethiopia, a guard takes an interest in Waugh’s possessions. Waugh tells us that the guard:
…in exchange showed me his rifle and bandoleer. About half the cartridges were empty shells; the weapon was in very poor condition. It could not possibly have been used with any accuracy and probably not with safety…
More than 75 years after Waugh’s visit, Janie and I journeyed to Ethiopia, where we encountered a great many tribespeople with such weapons and ourselves were the victims of a form of mistaken identity.
We spent a few days in the South Omo Valley; a tribal part of Southern Ethiopia near the border with South Sudan. We had a fascinating time there.
Our small lodge was near some Karo villages. On our second day, we had arranged to visit Turmi, a Hamer tribe village, on market day.
Our guide, Dawit, asked us if we would mind if a local tribesman, Adama, join us in the vehicle. Adama is, unusually, half Karo & half Hamer; he wanted to visit his Hamer friends and relatives. Adama had trekked to our lodge in the hope of hitching a ride. Naturally we agreed and had a peculiar conversation with Adama, through Dawit.
Adama wanted to know more about us. He wondered how much cattle we owned.
Dawit passed on my reply; we don’t own any cattle.
Adama asked what other types of livestock and how many of them we owned.
Dawit broke it to Adama, gently, that I had told him that we own no livestock at all.
Adama said that he felt sorry for us; he hadn’t realised that we were poor people.
Dawit tried to explain to Adama that we come from a society where wealth is not measured in livestock.
“He says he understands”, Dawit told me.
I looked at Adama and smiled. He smiled back. The smile was a smile of pity. Of course he understood. Ian and Janie were proud people who did not want to be perceived as poor. But by the sound of it we came from a pitifully poor tribe, universally blighted with a chronic livestock shortage.
We had been mistaken for paupers…or had we? In Karo and Hamer terms, we were/are indeed poor.
Turmi market was wonderfully colourful, bustling and friendly.
Livestock is unquestionably an important feature of that society.
We visited a Karo village later that same day, on the way back to our lodge. We had heard that the Ethiopian Government had just built the village its first school, which was due to open later that year, but had provided no consumables for the school. Janie and I always take a few boxes of biros with us when we travel in the developing world; we thought this place well suited to a gift of 100 pens.
The chief of the village was delighted and hastily arranged a ceremony for the gift.
Once we had ceremoniously handed over the pens, the chief – showing no concern for social distancing whatsoever – embraced me, spat over my shoulder three times and (through Dawit) explained that Janie and I were now honorary members of the village.
Janie and I then spent some time in OUR Karo village. I wonder whether the World War One vintage Lee Enfield 303 rifles the villagers were carrying had been around since Evelyn Waugh’s visit some 75 years earlier? Or perhaps they had found their way to the South Omo Valley from the 1970s Alleyn’s School CCF arsenal.
To celebrate our new-found membership of the Karo tribe, Janie tried her hand at hair adornment…
…then one of the Karo body artists reciprocated with some face painting, after a false start using all white face paint, he quickly made up a small batch of dark face paint.
So, as honorary Karo people, I suppose we weren’t mistaken for poor people, we ARE poor Karo people. We have no livestock and we have no antique weaponry. But we do have some exceptionally rich memories of our time with those remote people.
Postscript One: A Video Of My Performance
Below is an “uncut” video of my performance, published with the kind permission of the ThreadZoomMash participants.
Postscript Two: Links To Our Ethiopia Trip
If you would like to know more about our 2006 visit to Ethiopia, you can find a placeholder and links here, but at the time of writing this piece I have not yet Ogblogged my journals.
If you just want to look at our photos from the South Omo Valley, the Flickr link below has an album with the best 80 of our photos from there:
Postscript Three: A Very Brief Review Of The Mistaken Identity Evening
I don’t think that Kay Scorah imagined that she was choosing a dark topic when she chose Mistaken Identity, but the vast majority of the pieces were very dark indeed.
Let me put it this way. Terry went first, with a creepy piece about the grim reaper visiting the wrong potential “reapee” by mistake. It was almost as creepy as the following short scene from one of my favourite dark movies…
https://youtu.be/f4yXBIigZbg
…and Terry’s piece was one of the least dark pieces of the evening.
John’s brilliantly structured story involved Northern Irish and Islamic terrorism echoing in the life of one female character.
Julie’s story was a beautifully crafted, shocking piece about horrific, fatal domestic abuse.
Adrian’s story, which started lightheartedly enough, ended with the murder of a young man mistaken for a mass murderer.
In a near-futile attempt to lighten the mood before a short break, Kay scheduled Jan’s story, which was a poetic piece full of mystery about a potential re-encounter with a former lover..or was it merely mistaken identity?
After the break, David resumed the dark theme with a thriller about a man kidnapped by thugs for mysterious reasons; but was it a case of mistaken identity?
Then the mood finally got a bit lighter, with Geraldine’s thoughtful piece about her early days in New York and how status seemed to be identified (mistakenly or not) simply through one’s job title, place of origin or even merely one’s name.
Before my piece, which was the last, Ian T told us about several of his doppelgängers; Jeremy Corbyn (I don’t think so, but judge for yourselves), an Ecology party candidate in 1983 named Ian Newton and a man in a red coat at a church parade who looked so much like Ian that even Ian himself thought the other fellow might be him.
Perhaps I should have done my own doppelgänger story, not that I have delusions of grandeur about my scribblings:
It was a great evening, as always. Many thanks to Kay for organising it, to Rohan Candappa for the original idea upon which ThreadZoomMash is based and also a huge thanks to all of the participants.
..we had a free day in Brighton Wednesday. We both wanted to see the Royal Pavilion & adjoining stuff, plus do some shopping in the Lanes.
We set off from our charming Toll Cottage, opposite the Regency Tavern (depicted above).
The edgy, mean streets of Brighton, not too far from our digsYon pavilion entranceWithin the grounds
The nice Royal Pavilion staff persuaded us to buy a history pass which, for just £5 more than the Pavilion alone, would allow us to see the museum and Preston Manor. Deal.
No photos allowed inside the lavish, main Pavilion rooms (highlights: The Great Kitchen, The Saloon and The Music Room – the latter newly refurbished and especially stunning), but we assumed the rule did not apply to the cafe within, where we took a snack lunch:
Not wearing a tie in the Pavilion, Ged? Photograph inside the pavilion, Ged?
After the Royal Pavilion, a stroll through the gardens to the Museum, where photos are allowed.
There was also a superb exhibition of wildlife photography, most of which was exceptional and stunning:
Janie examines some specimensJanie emulates the Asian Sheepshead Wrasse; some sort of non-cis fish
After the museum, we venture into The Lanes, where I stock up on shirts at Pendulum and treated Janie to a leather jacket in a new boutique around there.
Then one of the rarest sights of all time; me buying baby clothes for Pip in a baby clothes emporium, Happyology, in North Laine. Even the lovely French shopkeeper looks stunned:
I tried to explain to Janie that there was no budget for dinner if we bought all that stuff but she didn’t listen and/or didn’t believe me, so after dropping off our purchases and having a brief R&R break, we ventured back to The Lanes to English’s Of Brighton.
Yum yum
On leaving town on the Thursday morning, we stopped off at Preston Manor to complete the set.
Seriously haunted, apparently.Is that some sort of raven apparition before the window?Ged examines the ultra-rare 16th century leather wallpaper.Not as posh a bed as one might imagineGhostly apparitions in the mirrorVaguely resembles the bathrooms in the Lord’s changing roomsThey don’t make Aspirator Vacuum Cleaners like they used to
After Preston Manor, back to London, where I had an appointment with the real tennis court at Lord’s and then with the Z/Yen team (plus Jez and some of his mates) for the Middlesex T20 match against Hampshire.
While in no way wanting to detract from Ian Theodoresen’s concise and important point about heated toilet seats, I feel bound to describe Japanese toilet technology in more detail.
Because every toilet seat Janie and I encountered was more than just heated; every toilet seat was, to a greater or lesser extent, smart.
The simplest, smart toilets had an array of coloured and lettered buttons, which we knew to be flushing and bidet functions of various sorts, enabling the user to clean up after themselves in various ways.
In the absence of labelling which we could understand…and having both lived many decades each without such functions…we felt loathe to experiment with such buttons for a good while.
we were blessed, at the Hyatt, with an especially smart loo, upon which the buttons were more elegantly labelled, with descriptive symbols leaving both of us in little or no doubt as to the function of each button.
Seriously smart loo – control panel rarely needs using.
Also, we had a bit more time in Kyoto than we’d had in other places, so we had the luxury of some additional experimentation time. Thus we both tried the various bidet buttons.
We both agreed that the sensations provided by the bidet functions were quite pleasurable, once we got over the over-riding senses of amusement and novelty.
We also both agreed that, in the functional matter of cleaning up after oneself, we suspected that such “automated bideting” was only of limited use – perhaps even lulling the user into a false sense of hygiene security.
In short – we were remaining old school in the matter of such personal hygiene for the time being.
…that our toilet got really smart. I think the idea of “luxury pilgrims lodgings” with en-suite facilities is quite new at Ekoin, so we had the very latest stuff. More utilitarian in look than the posh Hyatt loo, but seriously smart.
The control panel enabled you to do all manner of things – we barely touched the surface of those possibilities – but the smartness of this loo included a sensor that recognised that one of us was in the vicinity and lifted the loo seat up for us.
Once we were done, the sensors seemed to recognise what we had done, so it would short flush or long flush accordingly (manual over-ride was an option of course) once we had moved away from the loo – then it would sloosh around the bowl for a while, then it eventually would close the lid again.
In short, this loo seemed to know what we wanted to do…as well, if not better than we did ourselves.
Now, as many readers will know, I’m all in favour of augmented intelligence and artificial intelligence in theory…
…but in practice, we found this level of smartness emanating from the loo just a little creepy…
…also had these ultra-modern, ultra-smart loos and we are now both totally into it. We conversed with our loos, instructed them orally just in case they aren’t quite as smart as they like to think they are…
…and of course we thanked our loos for their comprehensive efforts. After all, courtesy costs nothing.
And comprehensive those efforts really can be; as Janie put it on one occasion:
I’ve just had a complete wash and blow dry on my bum.
I fear that we might have adjusted so comprehensively to our new loo environment, we’ll no doubt find it difficult to adjust back; remembering to do our own flushing and to lift/close the toilet seat for ourselves might prove tricky for us.
Predictably hilarious results might ensue unless Janie and I pay close attention to “sharpening our own smarts” again in the matter of toilet use on our return to the UK, where the loos are still so very 20th century.
It was pouring with rain on the morning we left the Amanemu. I told several of the staff that we were crying and that the sky was crying because we were leaving. One Japanese member of staff said he found that thought, “so poetic”. Perhaps I have picked up a little of the Japanese culture along the way.
We went through some brighter spots on the rail journey back to Tokyo and hoped that the weather there might be better – the forecasts I had looked at suggested that the rain might stop in Tokyo mid-afternoon – but in fact it was bucketing down when we emerged at Asakusa, to such an extent that we got fairly drenched just walking the two to three minutes from the station to the Gate Hotel.
We resolved to go out if the weather improved and not to do so if it didn’t.
It didn’t.
The Gate restaurant was fairly heavily booked for the evening, with the big main room booked out for a function. But the maître-d took us, as residents, under his wing and said we could either eat at the bar straight away or wait until about 19:30 at which point he was sure he could have a nice table for us. He even arranged for us to be called in our room once the table came free.
The food at The Gate is western style but clearly a fashionable place for Japanese people to try western food. Wouldn’t have been my first choice but certainly preferable to the risk of that drowned rat feeling just before you fly. Also a fashionable place because the skyline views are so good…when it isn’t pouring with rain…the above pictures look interesting in the wet but hardly show the skyline.
Come the morning, the weather was much improved and I was able to take some good pictures of the skyline from the terrace.
Then we were chauffeured to the airport for a pretty event-free journey home.
I’ll let the photos tell most of the tale of the ANA flight, but here are the details of our last multi-course Japanese meal of this holiday.
Amuse:
Cheese stick brown pepper flavour;
Fois gras mousse with apricot gelee;
Pickled small red pimento with cheese in herb oil
Sashimi:
Konfu kelp-cured alfonsino
Poached big-fin reef squid
Konfu kelp-cured red sea bream
Kobachi (Tasty titbits):
Marinated snow crab, mushrooms and garland chrysanthemum
Shabu-shabu bolied beef and grilled eggplant in seseame cream
Main course: Grilled barracuda rolled with Daikoku Hon Shimaji mushroom
…nursing several glasses of alcoholic beverage at the same time throughout the main meal…
A bit of product placement here for my friend Rohan Candappa – a great book btw
…Daisy even doubled up on deserts and chocolates…
No wonder Daisy slept for much of the remainder of the flight – not that the sleep seemed to prevent her from getting jet lag far worse than mine for several days after our return. Oh well.
