Letter from Warwick: 30 of 2008

My dear family & friends

We had a busy weekend aided and abetted by some gorgeous autumn weather. On Saturday morning we loaded the dogs into the car and headed for the Clent Hills on the outskirts of Birmingham (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clent_Hills). You may recall that we had planned to do this last weekend until Edgar managed to rip a claw on the jetty near the lair of the vicious vermin swans in St Nicholas Park. His paw recovered sufficiently last week allowing us to pick up our plans this weekend. Although we were greeted by a thick, freezing fog on Saturday morning, the weather forecast promised us that it would burn off by midmorning. We took the weather man at his word and I’m glad we did.

Getting there was both easy and difficult. The route was easy: M40, M42, M5 then A491. The fog made it interesting. Big electronic signboards next to the freeway alerted drivers to the fact that they were indeed driving in dense fog. The difficult bit was finding the Clent Hills and the National Trust parking area and cafe. The word “hill” is clearly a matter of definition. In South Africa we’d call them “koppies”, but, come to think of it, even a koppie is bigger than a hill. This was complicated by the fact that there were no road signs pointing us in the right direction – which was really quite strange because the National Trust properties are usually really well signposted. But some clever guessing and the satnav eventually got us to where we wanted to be. By that time the fog had lifted and presented us with a clear bright day to go walking. (See pics in usual place: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones.)

We spent about two hours walking up hill and down dale. We kept Edgar fairly close because there was plenty of evidence of horses. The first time Edgar ever saw a horse was when we went to the Animal Welfare Society in Philippi in Cape Town looking for a second dog. There was a horse in the paddock next to the road as we drove into the rescue centre and Edgar went ape-shit. The car shook as he screamed blue murder at what must have looked like a very big dog to him. The second time he saw a horse, he was off-lead and he bolted leaving me trailing far behind in hot pursuit yelling at him to sit. He has come relatively close to horses here in the UK without overreacting, so I live in hope that he has got over those fears like a child eventually stops being scared of the dark.

Our route took us to the highest point in the Clent Hills which, at 309m above sea level, still isn’t as high as our house in Pinoak Road in Cape Town. If you ask me what I miss most from our previous life in South Africa, it is simply the view: to be high up and stare out into the distance. There is something so serene about a view. I remember reading somewhere a long time ago about studies of the chemical/physiological change in your body when presented with a “long” view that created a feeling of well-being. You don’t find many high places in England. And when you do, no one will let you build a house there. Sheesh!

We had lunch back at the cafe at the car park. Their menu offered thick slice sandwiches: bacon, sausage, bacon and sausage, bacon and egg, sausage and egg, bacon and sausage and egg; tomato or mushrooms were 60p extra. We opted for bacon and tomato. Edgar and Hazel got many admiring glances, not only for their looks, but for their obedience as well. Where most of the other dog owners struggled to control their animals, Edgar and Hazel stayed down right where I told them to no matter what happened around them. All those Saturdays at dog club in Pinelands have paid off in leaps and bounds.

From Clent we drove to Kinver which is probably most well-known for a couple of houses that were gouged out of a sandstone ridge. (http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-kinveredgerockhouses; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kinver.) It was quite late in the afternoon by the time we had finished exploring and we traced a route home that got us back on to the M42 by way of Bromsgrove.

Sunday was a bit tighter because we had to be home for the start of the Singapore Grand Prix at lunchtime. Although there was a thick, heavy fog again, we left the dogs at home and headed for Worcester 30 miles away where I was particularly keen to visit the cathedral, one of the most magnificent in all England. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worcester_Cathedral; http://www.worcestercathedral.co.uk/.) We got there at 10h30, just as a morning mass by Vaughan Williams was getting under way. Peering in through the door, the rows of seats were so empty it seemed as if the choir was singing to itself. According to a report on the BBC over the weekend, less than a million people in England now attend church regularly which is less than a third of the attendance in 1950. You probably know my feelings about any and all religion. My interest is strictly limited to the breath-taking architecture and the history. I’m with Richard Dawkins on this one.

We didn’t stay for the mass, partly because we hadn’t had breakfast yet and so chose to stroll the pedestrianised streets of the city centre. Worcester is really attractive – you’ve just got to ignore the “strurm-und-drang” architecture of the post war years. We even found a really pleasant Portuguese pastelaria/cafe where we ordered cheese and ham sandwiches for breakfast. Everything about the cafe, including the widescreen television in the corner, could have been lifted straight out of Portugal. We made it back to the cathedral at midday via the riverside walk – which was a bit of a problem because the grand prix started at one o’clock and I’d forgotten to set the recorder. Still the cavernous building resounded with music as a young boy practiced on the cathedral organ under the strict tutelage of his master. We didn’t stay long, but we agreed that we will go back soon. We like Worcester.

Other notable events last week included the arrival of our new British driver’s licences. Lucia is really relieved she didn’t have to do the licence all over again. I’m still amazed that we could simply swap our SA licences for British ones. Still more amazing was that they arrived in the post as promised without being stolen. Can you imagine trying that one in SA? Everyone would get robbed blind except the postal workers who would be driving around in Ferraris. (The postal workers themselves would use courier services.) Lucia had to include her passport with her drivers licence application, and even that was returned to her by NORMAL post. Yowzer!

Right now I’m waiting for one of our landlord’s mates to come and fix the downstairs loo. Although he spent a couple of hours struggling with the cistern on Friday afternoon, it started flooding the room when we tried to flush on Saturday.

My landlord tells me that the housing bust has cost him £1million. I didn’t have the heart to say that I think we have yet to see the bottom of this market.

Love, light & peace
Llewellyn

Letter from Warwick: 29 of 2008

My dear family & friends, 22 September

What a wonderful weekend we had. I was startled to be confronted with a cloudless blue sky on Friday morning, and it stayed like that all the way to Sunday evening. Lucia said it gave her energy and revitalised her. I'm sure all the plants agreed with her.

Late on Friday morning I walked the dogs from just outside Warwick to the cafe at the top of Hatton Locks. I’m glad I wasn’t doing it on a narrow boat; there are 21 locks which represent an awful lot of opening and closing of lock gates. This would be punishing work in the ordinary course of life on the canals, but it must be doubly so in the heat of a late summer’s day. Up at the cafe we cooled down under the shade of a giant parasol while I enjoyed a cappuccino and the dogs lapped up a bowl of water. I suspect I shall be going back to this cafe more often as it’s under new management that has revived what had become a dowdy tearoom. They make a really good cappuccino whereas the previous proprietors didn’t even have a cappuccino machine. How can anybody expect to get anywhere in this day and age without a cappuccino machine?

In the evening, I took the dogs up to our local pub where I arranged to meet Lucia after work. The day was just too gorgeous to stay indoors. Edgar was a hit with most of the customers. We always get some disapproving looks, but Edgar has learned to ignore them. He is a true aristocrat. Only such blue blood would get away with sticking a cold, wet nose into your groin as a greeting. Well, mostly. I never forget walking on Camps Bay beach late one afternoon in Cape Town, when Edgar walked up quietly behind a very comely young lass wearing the skimpiest of G-stings and, before I could call him back, stuck his nose right in her butt. It was one of the funniest things you ever did see, and I fell about laughing. It was a pity then that her (very big) boyfriend didn’t see things quite the same way. An awkward situation developed. It might have got really ugly had an even bigger bloke not advised him to lighten up and take a hike. Anyway, back at the pub in Warwick Edgar introduced himself to Errol (Errol had a packet of crisps and Edgar loves crisps) whom I quickly deduced had very South African accent. Errol had been a policeman in SA and is now working as a carer in the UK. He and his wife live just across the canal from us. This place is truly teeming with South Africans. Edgar met another one at a coffee shop in Leamington this morning. This one was a test pilot who worked for Rolls Royce; the Rolls Royce plant is just outside Coventry.

On Saturday morning we walked the dogs along the canal and through St Nicholas Park to the Pastelaria Portuguesa where we received the welcome of old friends from Helder, the baker. We sat at one of his two tables on the sidewalk watching a road crew dig up a portion of the road and prepare it for new tar. It might have been less noisy inside, but the sun was shining and we had the dogs with us (and you never know when a jobsworth health inspector may decide to pay a visit.) If they were guide dogs, there wouldn’t be a problem. And besides, I think Edgar and Hazel should be granted guide dog status – they help centre my karma and guide me in life. I’m sure Edgar was a guru in a previous incarnation and that’s got to count for something. (Pity about the sheep though; for sure he’s not going to get past this incarnation until he can get over the sheep thing.)

On the walk home, we passed the lair of the vicious vermin swans just next to the footbridge in St Nicholas Park. Hazel plunged right into the river as usual despite the protestations of said vermin, and paddled merrily around followed by hisses and squawks. And while we were distracted by the antics of Miss Cuteness, Edgar somehow managed to rip a claw on the little jetty. At least we assume that’s where it happened because Lucia only noticed the blood on the carpets when we got home. So, while Lucia went to have her hair done in the afternoon, I took Edgar to the vet. The hairdresser cost more than the vet.

We had intended to go walking in the Clent Hills west of Brimingham on Sunday, but Edgar’s injury put paid to that idea. Instead we went to Ironbridge (which I have written about previously.) We had good day touring the museums of the area all dedicated in some way to the history of iron and the importance of this region to the Industrial Revolution. We started at Blists Hill, a model Victorian Town (http://www.ironbridge.org.uk/our_attractions/blists_hill_victorian_town/), and ended up at the Darby Houses, the homes of the Quaker family whose fortunes are so entwined with this area. We had lunch at a pub next to the river in glorious sunshine.

As for the rest of last week, the highlight was a dinner invitation on Thursday evening from Rebecca, one of Lucia’s co-workers. This was our first invitation from anybody at Lucia’s work. It’s one of the things that has really rather surprised me; I would have expected to have been invited to dinner, or lunch over the weekend at least once by one of Lucia’s bosses by now. It hasn’t happened. I know that in a similar situation in SA it would have been expected. That said, Rebecca and her partner, David, put on an excellent spread for us, and we had a wonderful evening. I look forward to doing it again.

My big achievement last week was to get our home network to work as it should. Forgive any jargon for the uninitiated. It was easy when I was simply trying to network two XP computers together. But now my new computer is running Vista while the old laptop, which is connected to the LCD TV downstairs as the home entertainment centre, is running XP. I know Microsoft was criticised because XP was too “unsecure”, but now they’ve gone completely the other way. I’ve spent months on and off trying to get the two computers to talk to each other over the home network. In retrospect I can say that there are some basic and simple elements to making it work, but it was near impossible to find the relevant information. In the end, it was a lucky guess based on the properties of the public folder on my Vista machine that got it to work. But would it really have been such a trainsmash for Microsoft to have provided the information on their website. And when I say “information” – I mean keystroke by flipping keystroke. The heading would be “Networking a Vista to XP” followed by “Step 1. Click on this ...”, “Step 2. Click on this .... “ etc.” If you want to Share a folder on the computer running Vista, do this “Step1...” etc. If anybody from Microsoft reads this – you suck!

And, finally, for anyone who thought I was talking shit about the level of global indebtedness and the threat to the financial system: 1.) I told you so, and, 2.) it ain’t finished.

Let me leave it for another week on that bright note
Love, light & peace
Llewellyn

The picture book: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones

Letter from Warwick: 28 of 2008

My dear family & friends, 14 September

We’ve been home for a week. I must admit that it was quite a come down to land at Coventry airport last Sunday amid dull, grey, rainy skies after the bright sunshine and clear blue skies of the Algarve. The weather remained dull for the rest of the week until yesterday (Saturday) when we could finally enjoy a dry, mostly sunny day. We made the most of it, first walking the dogs to Warwick in the morning to try out a new Portuguese pastelaria (patisserie), which belongs to somebody we met at the Portuguese pub during the Euro2008 soccer extravaganza. Helder, the owner, is clearly a good baker and he is also offering very keen prices on his goods. I think I shall become a regular. In the afternoon, we followed another favourite route through Newbold Comyn Park and along public footpaths across farmland to a flooded ford over the River Leam. We spent half an hour throwing sticks into the river for the dogs before heading back to the pub at the car park where we enjoyed more of the much-needed sunshine and a couple of beers.

The second week of our holiday was just as good as the first. (You can see all the pictures of our holiday at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/llewellynijones as usual.) I won’t go into detail again, b ut let me outline some of the highlights.

On Monday we headed off into the southern Alentejo where we had booked ourselves two nights at a farm herdade, the Herdade de Vale Côvo, near Mertola. (http://www.herdade-valecovo.com/.) Mertola, sitting on the banks of the Guadiana River to which it owes its life, has a heritage going back to the Phoenicians; next it was the Carthiginians followed by the Romans and then the Moors. The town finally passed into Christian hands of the Portuguese in the 1200’s. It’s an archaeologist’s wet dream. Lucia and I passed through the town when we visited Portugal over Christmas 2006 and we resolved then to spend more time in the area when we next ventured to Portugal.

The herdade is about 20km outside Mertola along a single track road, passed two sleepy villages and then down a bumpy dirt track. The silence was pierced only by a gentle breeze, birdsong and other occasional country sounds. It’s the type of place that really does allow you to stop.

The next day we drove to Pulo do Lobo (Wolf’s Leap,) a series of waterfalls and rapids on the Guadiana River, and then to Serpa, an ancient walled town further up the River. At Pulo do Lobo I stripped off and paddled in the warm waters of the Guadiana while Lucia lay back under the shade of a tree. Driving to Serpa from the falls was somewhat, um, interesting. We had one map that said there was a direct road between the towns, and another that said there wasn’t. If you know me, you’ve got to know that I chose to believe the optimistic map that wound a precipitous dance down a mountainside, across a drive river bed, and up the other side. As I said to Lucia, it just goes to prove that rental cars are the best off-road vehicles ever designed. Even an underpowered Renault Clio. We did get a bit of a strange look from the occupants of the only vehicle we passed, a rugged-looking 4X4. That was my adrenalin rush for the holiday.

Back with Barbara and Terry in Espargal, we spent Thursday and Friday exploring the islands and beaches of the Formosa estuary which we had never got around to on our many previous visits to the Algarve. I’m glad we did as it gave us the idea to rent a cottage on one of the ilhas for a couple of days when we are next able to find some time for a vacation on the Algarve.

And back at home there hasn’t been much to record. The only event of any significance was a trip to the licensing office in Birmingham on Thursday to exchange our South African driving licences for British licences. We expected queues and a long wait – we’re from South Africa after all – but that’s not the way bureaucracy works in the UK. We were in and out in 20 minutes, and our new licences will be mailed to us within three weeks.

I experienced another example of this extreme efficiency when I bought a book – Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s Fooled by Randomness – on the WH Smith website on Friday morning. It arrived in the post on Saturday; now that’s impressive.

That’s it for now
Love, light & peace
Llewellyn