Sunday, 31 October 2010

Halloween 2010




Annie and Eleanor had fun on Halloween. Annie had been at a birthday party sleep-over which culminated on Halloween with Trick or Treating and Eleanor and the local kids all got into the 'spirit' (heh, heh..Halloween pun) by Trick or Treating around the farm. Both girls cane back with a few kilos of sweets and chocolates each. Here are some photos.


Wednesday, 27 October 2010

Brighton - Day 2 and Travelling home

What a difference a day makes! That's changeable English weather for you. As we sat at breakfast on Tuesday 26th October we looked out on to an angry day. Grey skies, a howling gale and horizontal rain. The sparkling blue English Channel had been replaced with a snarling, snapping foam. We thought this might happen so we had planned to do inside things today, the Royal Pavilion and Brighton Pier.
As we went outside, this was the Brighton that I remember. I had a sudden image of me walking the pavements to the shops with my Mum, eyes squinted against the sting of the rain, leaning into the wind, wrapped up in parker and hood. The air was wet and smelt salty. I wondered how much of the rain was falling from the sky and how much was blown from the waves. The wind whipped around the buildings where it could. People walking along quite happily with their umbrellas were suddenly ripped apart in a flurry of misshapen umbrellas, coats and skirts as they turned the corner into the seafront drive.
We found the entrance to the Royal Pavilion and were pleased to get inside. The Royal Pavilion was the Prince Regent's beachside palace. A grand building in a Taj Mahal-Arabic style with opulent Chinoise decorated rooms. A strange mix of multicultural design which screamed exotic. We'll have to get you to look up your own web-images of the inside of the Pavilion as you weren't allowed to take photos and all the images I could find are copyrighted. We were most impressed by the grand chandelier in the banquet hall. The roof fitting of the chandelier is held in the mouth of a dragon which soars above the dining table. We were also impressed by the 26000 gold shells that glistened in the dome above the music hall. It certainly is an extravagant building both inside and out. The history of the life of the Prince Regent (who took over from the mad King George III) was also very interesting. We listened to this and explanations of the architecture on audioguides we walked around with. Everywhere seems to have them now and they are a good idea, I think. The children chuckled along listening to their children's version so they had a good time with it all.
Next was lunch and it was time for fish and chips for me, Jack and Eleanor. Healthy Annie and still-full-from-breakfast Stef decided to have a salad and soup or some such instead. When I was a kid I used to have Huss and Chips on 'Friday night-Fish and Chip night'. Hadn't had Huss and Chips in 30 years. I ordered some as the sign on the wall said they had Huss and the Italian serving lady asked Bruno the cook for '1 X Rock and chips'. Rock? Must be an Italian thing, I thought. Unless she misunderstood me and I was actually going to get a rock with some chips. But no, a lovely Huss and Chips appeared. I looked on the menu and indeed, they call it Rock. Weird. Anyway, I got to have Huss and Chips in Brighton in one of the oldest fish and chip shops. Mission fulfilled. My Grandad used to run the oldest fish and chip shop in Brighton. It is no longer there so this fish and chip shop, stating that it is over 50 years in continuous business must be the next best thing. Right, after boring you with the fish and chip story, let's move on.
We were going to have a ride on Volks' Electric Railway. An old Victorian railway which takes people right along the seafront. Sadly, it was closed for the winter. So, we went on to Brighton Pier. It was about a third of the way along the pier that we realised we were walking on very old floorboards with angry waves churning away underneath. If you looked down you could see the water between the cracks in the boards. Yikes! Bravely we soldiered on. The pier is an amusement centre. There are a couple of halls of casino style/amusement arcade games. When I was a kid I remember there being antique Victorian amusements and penny arcade games. Now it is all flashing lights and nightclub music. We pushed on to the old Ghost Train.
They use a token system so as not to handle money on the pier. Getting the tokens was quite a business as the machine was outside in the howling gale and rain. It took coins so I had to change my notes for coins at one spot and then get the tokens one at a time at the machine. I had to juggle my handful of coins, get the tokens and not drop my wallet. "How many thousands of pounds do ya reckon are dropped down through the cracks into the sea?" I asked Jack. We thought there must be quite a bit of money under the pier.
Jack, Annie and Eleanor enjoyed the Ghost Train and then it was time to get back inside again. We thought we'd have a go at a bit of gambling, playing a game where you had to put the money into the machine in the hope that your coin would be the one that causes a cascade of 10p pieces and perhaps a massive gemstone or two to come tumbling down into our waiting cup. Eleanor had some success but then we lost it all. After learning our lesson about gambling we returned to the hotel for a nice cup of coffee and a bit of a relax before 5 star dining in the hotel for dinner.
Next day and it was time to travel home by train. The hotel sent their bill up to us and they had got it wrong so I pointed this out to them and they said they would fix it. Fix it they did! Giving us a better discount than the one they had already quoted due to the distress and inconvenience caused. I didn't tell them that I wasn't really that fussed about it, I knew what the problem was and I was confident of a quick resolution to the matter but anyway - Travelling with a family? Choose Hilton Hotels. The family friendly team!
We hopped on the train from Brighton to Victoria Station London. Nice train! Plenty of space and work area for me to do a bit more marking. We arrived at Victoria Station uneventfully and on time and we had about an hour to get to Paddington Station on the underground. That's when it all fell apart. There was a signal failure on the Circle line which was causing all sorts of problems on the tube. In hope, we decided to try some station and line hopping to see if we could get to Paddington another way. We somehow got to Earl's Court station which wasn't bad in itself but it became fairly obvious that we wern't going to make our 13:06 connection from Paddington. The 14:06 was available so we resigned ourselves to catching that. We eventually got on a train to Liskeard and the announcement came over the train speaker that tickets booked for a specific train (as ours were) held no value on this train and travellers would be charged full fare and a penalty. What? This was going to get really expensive. We sat and hoped that we would be forgiven as we had tried and the delay on the tube wasn't our fault. The ticket collector came round just after Reading. I think she knew that the tickets were wrong but took pity on our family and stamped them anyway. Grateful but a little rattled due to our tube experience and our predicament we settled back to try and enjoy our journey through to Liskeard. We arrived home at 17:50 only ten minutes later than we would have otherwise, quite strangely. An early night was had after a busy day.












Monday, 25 October 2010

Brighton - Travelling to and Day 1

"Oh, we do like to be beside the seaside. Oh, we do like to be beside the sea..." Not too sure if this song is specifically about Brighton but it fits so well. We heard it more than once as Mums sang it to their excited children as they walked towards the Brighton seafront.
Brighton is my ancestral home. Indeed, for nine years or so it was actually my home so we were always going to return here at some point this year to look around. It had taken several weeks of looking on the internet to make the plan come together. Accommodation was the main problem. Eventually persistence and luck paid off and we were able to get a really good deal at the 5 star Hilton Brighton Metropole hotel right on the seafront.
We travelled to Brighton on Sunday 25th October. It was a different train route east this time with a change at Westbury to connect with the Cardiff to Brighton line. I doubted that we would make the narrow connection window (7 minutes) but the trains went like clockwork on this day. We got off the train at Westbury, waited a minute and a half, in came the train from Cardiff, hopped on and five minutes later we were off to Brighton. Easy when it works. The train took us through Portsmouth and then through more familiar names of towns from my childhood: Worthing, Shoreham-By-Sea, Hove and eventually Brighton.
It was about 5pm when we arrived, so early evening. We rolled our little and recently purchased cabin bags down Queen Street and West Street towards the seafront. The first thing that strikes you about Brighton is that it is a very busy town with lots of noisy traffic. The second thing is that it is quite hilly. It was nice to arrive in Brighton with clear, blue skies. There was a cold bite to the air though as winter is very much here. Things became more familiar to me as we got nearer the seafront. There was an amusement arcade/casino that maybe I remember. There was The Odeon cinema which I think has always been there. Vague recollections at this stage but familiar none the less. The seafront with its distinctive turquoise railing, pebbled beaches and pier was instantly recognisable. We found our way to the Hilton Brighton Metropole, checked in and went to explore the local area in the hope of finding some dinner. We took a quick stroll along the seafront in order to get our bearings and soak up the atmosphere. Evenutally we found ourselves in The Lanes, a network of narrow walks with small specialty shops and swank eateries. I don't have many memories of The Lanes but by the look of it it has been 'glitzed' up with expensive jewellery shops and haute couture fashion shops. There was a good buzz in The Lanes on a Sunday evening with lots of beautiful people and families eating and drinking in the many funky cafes. We couldn't decide what to eat until Stefanie said "Oo look. I've never tried Vietnamese". Vietnamese for our first night in Brighton? Why not? It is that sort of place. Funky, spontaneous, cosmopolitan. No Jellied Eels and Cockles in vinegar for us. We ate beautiful traditional-style Vietnamese which was very healthy and tasted delicious. Fish and chips would have to wait for another day. There is an endless choice of fish and chips along the Brighton seafront. I had to have fish and chips in Brighton to pay homage to my late Grandad Foster who at one time ran the oldest fish and chip shop in Brighton.
After dinner it was back to the hotel to go to bed. We had separate rooms for the adults and for the children (part of the excellent deal the Hilton offered...50% off a children's room) but this meant that the children were sharing an enormous triple bed. They learnt to get on well over the next couple of days.
The next morning we emerged and went downstairs to The Windsor Room to have our buffet breakfast. Clearly, the children were going to identify 'breakfast' as a highlight of their trip to Brighton. All manner of cereal, pastries, breads, juices, cooked breakfast items, pancakes, waffles, eggs cooked to order by the friendly chef, Finnish-style breakfast goodies of smoked fish, cheeses, ryebreads, fruit, yoghurt, croissants...ridiculously good. Jack decided he likes 5 star hotels. Off we waddled to start our exploration of Brighton proper. We spun through the revolving door into blazing sunshine, blue skies and a flat, sparkling blue sea stretching before us. We had created a flexible itinerary with the help of my Dad before arriving and we used that to start our exploration. The first event was 'Wayne's World Famous Brighton Heritage Tour' which turned out to be an arduous hike through Brighton complete with 'hilarious and moving anecdotes about a childhood in Brighton in the 1970's'. We were going to get a bus from The Old Steine area but we didn't look at a bus timetable and it was going to be a long wait so we thought we would walk for a bit and catch the bus farther along. It is here that 'it is just around the corner' syndrome took hold and we ended up walking the whole way and not getting the bus at all. It wasn't until we got to an area called The Level that I had any real sense of deeply personal childhood memory. The Level hasn't changed in the last 30 years at all. Heck, The Level hasn't changed in the last 150 years I now realise as an adult. It is simply a flat, park-like area with a children's play area. I remembered the swings, the paddling pool, the stone step arches. I remembered playing there as a kid. I was glad to see that it is still the same.
Our next stop was 19 Aberdeen Road. This was where my Dad was born. A simple two-storey, terraced house in the middle of Brighton. He now lives on a large block of green on the open, rolling-hill plateau of the Atherton Tablelands in Far North Queensland. I don't think you could get any more different and I think he is now in a better spot.
We crossed the road and went to my old school, Fairlight School. It is still the same though I don't remember the garish blue signage and the same garish blue used as a colour theme in the school. Being half-term it was locked so we couldn't go in but we could see some of the colour through the windows. Around the back of the school they have put a second ramp entrance. The central playground was still the same except for a fenced off infants play area and a sort-of garden area. We used to kick a football around the playground. I'm guessing they are not allowed to do that any more. The world is bigger when you are a child and the memory sticks with you. It was weird looking down on this small playground space but remembering playing games there as a child. The perspective was all wrong.
We then followed the route I used to take for walking home from school. Around the corner and then up the hill of Hartington Road. I remember it being a long, steep hill and it still is! It is a nice road though with trees lining the bottom of it. It is fairly wide for England and there is a wonderful view of Brighton's Regency terraces from the top. Eventually we got to 229 and 235 where my Mum, Dad, my sister and I used to live. There was Carisbrooke Road where I used to play. As we stood outside 235 taking photos with me pointing out who lived where (there - the Barton's; there - my friend Ricky Green and his Nan who used to look after me after school and we used to watch Batman and Zorro; there - someone we knew a bit, their daughter was a policewoman; there - my friend Anna, we bought their house 235; there - Mr. Crooke a World War 1 hero; there - my friend Claire) a couple of little girls came skipping out of Mr. Crooke's house (Mr. Crooke now being 115 or so, so he has probably passed on). Partly curious as to what we were doing taking photos and such they skipped past and darted off down Carisbrooke Road to play. 'The new generation of Carisbrooke Kids' I pointed out to Stef, Jack, Annie and Eleanor. Surely they were going to see if Derek, Charlotte, Paul and Sarah could come out to play. I was pleased that the legacy of the Carisbrooke Kids continued. I wanted to sit down on the steps of a Carisbrooke Road house and tell the new generation stories of me, Derek, Charlotte, Paul and Sarah and the adventures we had playing on Carisbrooke Road. Sadly, that would have probably got me arrested in this day and age and we had to move on and continue our tour.
At the top of Hartington Road in the 70's there was a stone masons that made headstones for the graves of Brighton Cemetery and there was a gate known as The Top Gate which gave entrance to the cemetery. Both the stone masons and the top gate are no longer there. The stone masons is just an ivy overgrown ruin and the top gate has been blocked up by an ugly concrete slab wall topped with razor wire. Graffiti, probably marking St. Helen's Road gang territory, capped off the ugly scene. St. Helen's was known as a no-go zone for us as kids and it seems to be the same today. You could pass through there OK with an adult but it is to be avoided if by yourself or at night I would suggest. We walked back down Hartington Road to the main cemetery entrance.
Many childhood memories were here as quite a lot of time was spent exploring and playing in the cemetery. The memory that hit me most was the coloured glass beads that some people spread on the top of the graves. I'd forgotten about this and I instantly remembered being dazzled and fascinated by it as a child. The cemetery was always good for finding conkers in the autumn and we quickly found some as we walked up the road. I think the road used to be a sort of white-ish gravel but now it is just black bitumen. Our mission was to find the graves of my Grandads and the memorial plaque of my Nan Foster. 'Always read the instructions!' is the moral of the story as my Dad had clearly emailed where the graves were but I had only remembered 'near the chapel' as a reference. Amongst the thousands of gravestones there it was like finding a needle in a haystack so we spread out. Thankfully, fortune smiled and we found the grave of Grandad Hagon fairly quickly. Grandad Foster is supposedly buried right next to Grandad Hagon but there was no headstone to mark the place. We could see that there was indeed a grave next to Grandad Hagon's so we assumed it was the right place and paid our respects to both Grandads.
In the 70's there used to be a hole in the wall that could be used to access the old part of the cemetery. A wall divided the old and new parts of Brighton Cemetery. We tried to find it but we couldn't. There was an area that looked right but it was all overgrown and blocked off. Time was getting away from us anyway and we wanted to visit the Memorial Garden where I believed my Nan had a plaque on the memorial wall. We looked and looked but this WAS like looking for a needle in a haystack. Unless it suddenly sprung out to the eye there was no chance we could find it. With a feeling of 'at least we tried' we had to continue our journey.
Sick of walking by this stage we decided to get a bus back to town. We caught it at the cemetery gates and it went back up Hartington Road, Ryde Road, around the hospital, Queen's Park Road, Islingwood Road, towards Brighton Station, London Road shops etc. It was a bumpy, windy journey which gave me great opportunity to change my walking tour into a bus tour and point out things to the now-flagging but bravely staying with me, family.
We had lunch and a bit of a rest before getting the bus to Preston Park and The Rockery (one of the world's largest rock gardens). Both these places were childhood favourites with learning to ride a bike at Preston Park cycling track, kicking a football around on the fields, walking through the walled garden of Preston Manor on a sunny Sunday and exploring the Rockery. The bus trip was a bit of an adventure as the bus didn't take the route that I expected and we missed the park. Realising the mistake and a bit anxious that we would have to pay for an unnecessary bus ticket (not cheap when you are dragging around a family of 5) we waited for a bus in the opposite direction. I explained our predicament to the very friendly bus driver who helped us out both ticketwise and with directions. Grateful, we alighted at the correct stop. Then came the best example of childhood memory distortion yet. "Oh dear," I said to Stef, "we are diagonally opposite from where we should be which means we've got to walk all the way across the park." Surely, Preston Park is a vast acreage of land which takes hours to get across! We crossed the road and entered through the gate in the wall which hides Preston Park from this angle. About the size of three football fields, Preston Park is not as big as I remember it. Everything is still there as it was. We went to look in the rose garden and walled garden of the manor. Is it just me or did the garden and manor look a little run down from 30 years ago? The walled garden had closed at 4pm so were unable to go inside but we looked through the gate. We made our way across the road to the Rockery. It is a lovely rock garden with some beautiful Japanese Maple type trees in beautiful autumn colour. I remember struggling to climb the rocky paths as a little tike. Dad used to make up stories as we walked around. The witch that lived in the whirring electrical room buried in the rocks always made walking along that bit of path a challenge and we used to enjoy doing 'trip trap trip trap over the rickety bridge' like Billy Goats Gruff when we got to the wooden bridge. There was always a chance that you would fall in crossing the stepping stones in the frog pond. We liked visiting the Rockery it was a bit of quiet, relaxing space in an otherwise busy city.
We hopped back on the bus and went and found a rocking Italian restaurant at the children's request. They weren't that keen on the Vietnamese the night before apparently. Then back to the hotel for a good night's sleep.

Thursday, 21 October 2010

Dartmoor again - A Triangular Gutter Tor Walk

A lovely, bright Saturday morning gave us the urge to go walking on Dartmoor again. I found an intersting walk on the internet. It took us to a place called Gutter Tor which is towards the middle of Dartmoor. The walk included some good up and down hills, some standing stones and a feature called The Giant's Basin which is an ancient burial mound. There were lots of cows around the standing stones. We were a bit wary of them but they left us alone. It was a beautiful walk with magnificent views across to the River Plym, Plymouth Sound and the rolling hills of Dartmoor.












Falmouth Oyster Festival October 9


After a week of rain and cloud, Saturday dawned bright and sunny. We hopped in the car and headed south this week, down to Falmouth and its yearly Oyster Festival.

Falmouth, it seems, has a deep port and is one of the last places in the world to harvest oysters traditionally... no motors to be seen. The oysters are not so much 'farmed' as 'encouraged', then dredged from the sea bottom. So we thought we would give our 'rambling' a miss this weekend, and get stuck into some yummy oysters, enjoying a bit of a carnival.

It was quite a long drive, and we parked in a 'park and bus' car park just out of town. Soon we were winding down the narrow streets of this old port in a double decker bus, high up and able to peer in the windows above the shops if they didn't have curtains. The streets were full of pedestrians - and a few mad motorists that eschewed the car park.


We decided to go on a little walk first, to build up our appetite. Falmouth has a castle, so we thought we might check it out. Unfortunately it was a bit further away than we liked, so we didn't actually go inside it. All we could see was a cannon, and the remains of an old moat, and the outer walls. You had to pay to get further in, and we didn't have time. So this photo, courtesy of Google Images, shows what we did not see! (For some reason we left our camera at home. Not very organised this weekend!)


Back we went,to the marquee where all the action was. There were stalls with lots of local produce, some of which they allowed us to taste ( a bit of cheese, some apple cider...). Mostly they had things for sale. There was a large area with a little stage in the middle for bands, and a big stage at the front for cooking demonstrations and competitions. Something was being televised, and it was very loud.
Wayne and I procured a plate of large fresh oysters and a glass of real champagne. The tables were all full, so we had to go outside and sit on the kerb. It was delicious. It was interesting seeing all the people, too. Can you believe, some people brought their dogs. I fully expected one of the large ones to wolf down a pasty or two as it was taken into the tents. The children went off and bought gourmet pasties... Annie had a kangaroo one! I settled on a venison one after my four oysters. Very nice.
Well, the oysters weren't free, but they were good. We listened to a bit of music and had a wander down the wharf. We couldn't stay to watch the oyster shucking competition because we had to take Eleanor back to a birthday party. Next time we won't try to fit too much in one day! But the year is slipping past, and a sunny weekend is to be treasured.

A Padstow Walk on a windy day

We hadn't been to Padstow since the Spring. Then, we hadn't really done a walk, so this was our destination this weekend. All the family came along this weekend. Our exchange partner kindly let Mum and Dad borrow his old car, and he had organised for it to be fixed up for this purpose. So, here we are, on another sunny weekend. It was bright, but a bit cold if you stopped walking.


We parked in the centre of town, and strolled through the place enjoying the wharf and the buildings. Padstow is a pretty town. We went up to a cafe before the walk, to have a cream tea. (This was largely to bribe Dad, who was a little daunted after last weekend, I think.) It was delicious, and the wasp came along to the jam pot after we had eaten, which was really very considerate of it.

Off we went, along the river. This was a very long stretch, with (thankfully) no hills. There were occasional woody paths and bridges, and still the blackberries here and there to sustain passing walkers. (We didn't really need any after our morning tea, but couldn't resist the really big ones.) We came upon a little cluster of houses, then walked up a hill onto the cliff tops.

It was really windy near the sea! Not at all nice whistling in the hearing aids, I have to say. Quite soon I had to put an over shirt on, despite the exercise.This picture shows us bracing ourselves near a gate.














There was an old tower on the top of the cliff. We rushed there for shelter, but only escaped the wind in the doorway. In the actual tower, it was just as blustery. Wayne took ages to take this photo of us in the window... you can see my hair whipped back, and the brim of Dad's hat.















Around the corner the wind dropped off. Here is Annie near a cleft in the cliffs. Soon after this photo we turned inland again, through farmland and eventually returning to the path by the river. We walked through the town to a fish and chip shop owned by the famous Rick Stein. Strangely, the sales staff all seemed to be German or something - a bit odd for a showpiece of Cornish cooking. We chose the mackerel, and waited some time in the crowded shop. The kids were a bit cross that this fish was not battered, but we found it very tasty. It was very expensive though. So much for buying 'brand' food! There was also nowhere nice to sit and eat it. Anyway, we've 'done' Rick Stein.