changinglifestyleblog

We were making our way to Dungeness to Travel back to Hythe on the train. However as one of us was an archaeologist who knew a great deal about the medieval churches of the area we kept stopping to have a look at various churches of interest. One of our stops was a Rye where we spent a couple of hours. Rye is not actually in Kent but in Sussex. However it sits on a hill overlooking the marshes most of which were drained and used to graze sheep. I was intrigued by the huge gates across the road.

 

It was quite steep and my achilles tendon was throbbing, but I struggled up the hill. I was rewarded when halfway up the hill I found a viewing platform where it was possible to see over the town.

 

 

The whole experience was transformed for me when I read on the plaque that EM Benson had based his Mapp and Lucia novels in Rye and called it Tilling.  I found these Novels after hearing them spoken of on a radio 4 programme and once I had got over my irritation with the snobbery, I was hooked. They are a bit like PG Woodhouse rather of that era.

It was a bit like finding middle earth was a real place. I looked for the house that is central to the books that has a room overlooking the high street (Mallards)  and found  just such a house as described. Home to an artist according the the blue plaque

 

I found a small tea shop similar to the one mentioned ( Diva’s tea shop) half timbered cramped and absolutely charming.  We had the most fantastic cake and tea there. I saw the station  where they would catch the train to London.

I saw the  church and the town hall ( Lucia was mayor Tilling just as EM Benson was mayor of Rye).

It was like playing That new Pokemon game but so much better. It lifted my whole day. We didn’t get to visit the castle as there wasn’t time.

I also found the house where the novelist Radclyffe Hall Lived . She wrote a book called the Well of Loneliness  it was the first English novel to describe lesbianism.

 

 

So this was my literary day. I confess it was one of the best days of our trip.

Kind regards Your mother

So like the pilgrims in Chaucer’s tales we went to Canterbury. The difference being that we travelled in comfort and ease. In addition we were not expecting to earn salvation through our visit and we didn’t tell stories on the way.

 

The only day of our holiday that was wet was our day in Canterbury.  The heavens opened as we walked along the high street and we dived into the first building we came to which was a museum come art gallery and library with a tourist information inside as well.

I was rather pleased to wander around looking at the pictures and the interactive displays in the museum. It was free an important consideration if you have a family. However we did treat ourselves to coffee and cake in the tea shop.

My favourite geek was with me and he enjoyed himself identifying all the wildlife specimens and looking through all the military memorabilia. The place was full of families and we found that rather heartening. There were young children everywhere and whilst it was noisy it was also bustling with life.

We went as far as the cathedral but found a huge queue of tourists. I also have to confess to feeling quite upset about the commercialism of christianity and despite an interest in historical sights I really couldn’t stomach queuing to pay to visit the cathedral.  It really did make me feel quite ill and reminded me of the money changers in the temple.

We therefore sought for alternatives and found a Roman museum instead.

Inside the museum were mock ups of Roman shops and rooms with dummies set up dressed as romans. A whole street of these shops had been created.

Here is the weaver

The sandal maker

The bone pin maker

The  fast food shop with bowls of food sunk into the counter. An ingenious idea

The   veg shop

Dining room with reclining modern man. We played with the board game in the table a bit like draughts or checkers if you are American.

Here are the rules should you feel inspired to have a go.

The kitchen

 

The lady having her hair done. The issue of slaves was glossed over as they were described as servants.

 

There were some lovely Roman glass and mosaics.

Here is a close up of the central motif.

 Children were dressing up as Romans, making their own mosaics from tesserae, drawing colouring. It was very well attended and inspirational.

We finished our afternoon with a walk on the walls. Along the walls were defensive structures.

These were labelled with the location and some information. Again this was all well set out and clear

This provided me with the opportunity of seeing into other people’s gardens and finding ideas for my own. We walked back through a park.

There was a huge statue of a chalice at one corner and a shady garden with benches.

 

All in all we had a very interesting day and were very pleased with the choices we had made.

I will tell you more about our stay tomorrow

 

Driving to work and remembered a poem I read. I can’t credit the author as I can’t remember who wrote it  and I have modified the language to make it less offensive.

I have never done any of these things I just think about them when people drive badly around me

Postman Pat Cut me up,

Acted as if he didn’t give a F***

So I wound down my window and called him a P***

Turned around my car and squashed his cat

White van driver ran a red light

He put down his foot and disappeared from sight.

I caught up with him twenty minutes later.

Blocked his exhaust with an old potato

No mirrors or signal caused such a fuss

As he crossed two lanes in his big red bus

So I slammed on my brakes did an emergency stop

watched him get caught by the traffic cop.

Well all that vicarious violence and aggression made me feel better. However may I recommend if someone is very aggressive towards you in a car.  Smile sweetly and blow them a kiss  then accelerate away. It doesn’t half upset them. It is also very satisfying.

Cheers

 

This morning we had a few tasks to perform picking up the car from the garage and sorting out finances at the bank to name two. It was late morning before we found ourselves driving towards Derbyshire a picnic in the back of the car. Both of us were wrapped up like the Michelin man advert. It was a lovely day but the thermometer was reading just above zero so a cold day.

We stopped at Cromford Canal. Unfortunately as this is a half term week the place was heaving consequently there were dogs everywhere and the only wildlife near the mill were some mallards a few swans and a coot all looking hopefully at passers by in expectation of food. This appeared more dangerous than they anticipated judging by the violence with which some small boys were hurling crusts of bread at the birds.

 

Further on a couple of moorhens swam about busily amongst the old reeds. There was a work party on the canal removing the marginal vegetation with grappling hooks, garden forks and other tools. Unfortunately this section of the canal was devoid of little grebes. Indeed in view of the number of dogs off the leads and either in the water or prowling the bank it is a wonder that any wildlife still lives in this stretch of water. I was worried about the fate of water voles along this stretch of the canal without the marginal vegetation their habitat is threatened. Still we made the most of it. The trees yielded very few birds  the usual blue tits great tits and robins. Further down the canal we eventually found a lone little grebe cowering under the opposite bank. Once we had found one others appeared as is by magic and we eventually located three pairs. The moorhens seemed unperturbed by the noise and disturbance.

Just before we reached the railway junction I found the first lesser celendine of spring. This was my first talisman that spring is on the way and all is well with the world.

Lesser Celendine

In the wood I spotted a few shoots of wild garlic another indicator of spring.

Wild Garlic

The first bridge was devoid of views of dipper or grey wagtail but we did watch a nuthatch busily attacking a mossy branch and a little further on a treecreeper came very close to us. A pair of dunnocks were excavating the leaf litter  we flushed them as we approached unfortunately. Still they only moved a few metres away until we had passed.

We noticed the river was high and we stood for some time on the stone bridge with the sun on our backs waiting to see what we could find. A flash or gold above our heads was our first indicator of a grey wagtail. It obligingly perched on a rock in the middle of the river and strode up and down for a few minuted giving us excellent views.

We made our way back to the car for lunch and decided to call at Carsington reservoir. It was till sunny when we arrived early afternoon. Our first bird in the hedgerow was a willow tit. Once we had un-stiffened ourselves we plodded towards the hide avoiding small children on bikes, runners and a wheelchair. The hide was full of people several of them were volunteers, but a couple of excited children were watching the birds and commenting on them constantly. We found a female reed bunting, a host of tree sparrows, more willow tits and in the distance a great northern diver in winter plumage. I found a redshank in a bay over the other side of the reservoir and your father set up his scope so the children could see it. We finished the day with a walk towards the hide at sheep dips, but the wind had increased  and the waves were blowing up, so apart from a solitary male goldeneye and a small group of teal on the margin of the water, it was deserted. The passerines had also deserted the wood, so we called it a day and came home. Still five more species seen for this year and a good walk.

The hazel was covered in catkins

 

The common polypody and the harts tongue fern were both covered in spores and growing prolifically.

Harts Tongue Fern

Common Polypody

Stonecrop

 

Ivy Leaved Toadflax

 

 

Finally I was charmed by the sheer diversity of plants on the stone walls a small stone crop, ivy leaved toad flax in addition to the ferns. Mosses covered every damp surface and lichens decorated both the trees and the stones. It was a whole community in miniature with minute forests and lakes the size of puddles.  Comparing the experience with last February we did not find Coltsfoot, nor Dogs Mercury nor Spleenwort despite being told that this spring is particularly early.

Anyway time to pull myself together. The only other news is I bought a book of natural history walks in Derbyshire. I mat the mother of two of your school chums. I hadn’t seen her for twenty years but she still remembered me. I am ashamed to say I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name and spent the entire conversation trying hard not to show my appalling memory. we had a delightful talk and I was very encouraged by this conversation. I find it rare to meet someone whose values and interests coincide with my own. Once we started on discussing our gardens it was as if I had seen her yesterday.

I am rambling on. Thank you for the phone call with all your news and I will speak to you soon

Your loving mother

Dear Son,

Today we decided as the day was bright and sunny we would go birding around Leicestershire and Rutland so we quickly assembled a rudimentary picnic and flask of coffee fuelled up the car and set off for Eyebrook reservoir having looked on line for what was about. 

We realised our limitations as we stepped outside the vehicle. the wind had obviously come straight from Siberia and passed through every item of clothing was were wearing. Within minutes we were chilled and after half an hour we were shivering uncontrollably. Still the drive was very beautiful. flocks of lapwings over the meadows were very attractive. The early cherry trees were in blossom and the hazel trees were full of catkins. On the way we had excellent views of red kite hunting over the A606 and of kestrel also hunting along the road verges. We stopped off at the little owl tree with no success, unsurprisingly the little owl shared my sentiments and was keeping well out of the wind inside the tree trunk I suspect. 

This disappointment was ameliorated by the sight of over 50 field fares and a single redwing in this field. We spent a few minutes watching these delightful birds feeding before a car appeared in the lane and we were forced to move. We found a small flock of very plump red legged partridges, huddled against the wind.

 

A curlew and a green sandpiper  were feeding in the edge of the mud near the bridge of the reservoir, whilst a small flock of dunlin rushed and scurried amongst the legs of the lapwings all resting on the mud. A single stonechat was perched briefly on a thistle seed head.

On the water there were lots of goldeneye ducks the males dived every time we managed to get a fix in the binoculars, the swans were all feeing together in s flock. I assumed this was to maximise warmth. imagine our surprise when in amongst them we found a pair of male smew in full winter plumage and a couple of red headed females as well. We found all the usual suspects, coot, moorhen, tufted ducks, mallard, shoveler, teal and wigeon, cormorant and a variety of gulls. A red kite hunted close to the car providing us with excellent views, a pair of buzzards hunted the fields above the reservoir. 

We found a grey heron looking as miserable and hunched as usual was keeping out of the wind at the far edge of the water and three little egrets crouched in the rough grassland at the dam end of the inflow. On the opposite side of the road from the inflow the bird feeders were alive with four species of tits ( blue tit, great tit, long tailed tit and coal tit). We saw a large flock of lapwing with other waders fly around before returning to feed on a field. We tracked the birds down and found approximately 20 golden plover their dark eyes making them look particularly sleepy. Over a dozen dunlin scurried amongst the larger waders. At the main car park chaffinches robins and dunnocks fluttered on the ground beneath the feeders whilst the tits and a solitary tree sparrow fed on the seed.

 

We could hear the calls of the wigeon on the water beside the car. We ate lunch inside the car and made our way to the north arm of Rutland water where we were rewarded with a male goosander and four black necked grebes a little grebe. 

As you can see the place was very attractive 

By mid afternoon the cold had seeped through my clothes and I was finding it difficult to maintain any heat so I persuaded your father to head for home. We had just settled ourselves down to watch some TV with a mug of tea when the storm struck and it grew dark the snow came swirling down then turning to  hail and sleet some fifteen minutes later. It has developed into an extremely cold might with an amber warning of snow tomorrow. This is a pity as I had hoped for a drive to Sherwood Forest to search for some woodpeckers. 

We had 55 species of bird, with thirteen new species for the year. The highlights were the smew.  the temperature was five degrees but the wind chill made it about freezing.

More updates later in the week 

your loving mother 

 

 

 

Dear Son,

As a birthday present my friend Angie invited me to attend a murder mystery evening with her at the book cafe in Derby yesterday. Accordingly I dressed in causal clothes Angie’s dog has a habit of smelling ones crotch something that is more disconcerting when wearing a skirt or dress. Having been smelt has my hands licked and my clothes pawed at we caught the bus into town and met up with two cousins of Angie. Both of them lovely people and good fun. After a quick cup of tea we headed to the book cafe where we were escorted upstairs into a Georgian room with a lovely chandelier big windows and comfy chairs. 

We were given a glass of Prosecco. We talked and chatted for at least an hour before the performance started. Without food and with no suitable distrction Angie and I made short work of  bottle of Australian Rose. A woman dressed in a blue dress and wearing a suffragette rossette started off the proceedings by introducing herself as a suffragette Charity Kase (Yes the name was that corny)

.

 

 

She attempted to give us all pamphlets promoting the suffragettes of Derby (S.O.D. s for short) and her slogan don’t be silly be a S.O. D. An admirable sentiment I am sure you will agree.

A young man then entered dressed in a loud blazer a straw boater and grey flannel trousers Hugo Larst.

He had obviously modelled himself on Bertie Wooster and played the silly Ass very well. He attempted to help a rather frumpy maidservant Amelia Cook with her baggage and was rebuked by the suffragette for oppressing the woman. I am still trying to work out the logic of that statement. Apparently she was perfectly capable of carrying her own bags despite being overwhelmed with them. They were followed by an older man with an obviously fake moustache this was apparently Tom Braider the well known explorer and rhino wrestler complete with full khakis pith helmet and blunderbuss. he immediately started to argue with Charity about the place of women in society.

Then a rather decrepit butler entered complete with black suit and hat  Jeeves fallen on hard times I thought.

Lastly a version of Angie from work turned up loud brash mutton dressed as lamb bossy with the same fake reddish hair colour called Augusta Wind.

Thankfully after she had sacked her maid, insulted the explorer and derided the suffragette someone apparently shot her. She collapsed taking a few dramatic moments to die in the corner. I wondered if it had been one of us the audience who had shot her for her bad acting and poor dress sense. Having wanted to shoot her twin from work it was a very satisfying projection. We were given a list of suspects and then came the chance to talk to the suspects.

 

Someone had stolen Augusta’s kiss and tell autobiography and this provided a number of the suspects with motives. 

The maid turned out to be completely wet and it was consequently elicit much information from her. The butler was so pompous and verbose it was hard to get much out of him.

The explorer was rather good at double entendre e.g 

“Could you tell us how you manage to wrestle an animal capable of destroying a jeep with your bare hands?” My question.

“Its all a matter of getting ones hand one the horn and then twisting it. I expect you have often had your hands on the horn madam…..” This was addressed to Ang not me  obviously however it caused a burst of rude laughter. However he claimed his gun was not loaded no double entendre intended.

The silly Ass had a lisp and couldn’t pronounce the letter r rather like Jonathan Ross. He also had a sneer that would have given Rick Mayall a run for his money. This made me attempt to get him to say as many words with this letter as possible. Think of Pontius Pilote in “The Life of Brian”. He was obviously Augusta Wind’s love intewest but wefused to be dwawn on her chawacter claiming he was too much of a gentleman to tell tales. 

I derived great entertainment from asking fatuous and silly questions of these stock characters. I derived similar interest from eavesdropping on the conversations of those around me and by just being silly. Small extracts of the manuscript kept being produced to help us, 1908 obviously the year the photocopier was invented.

 

 

 

At some point after an hour and a half we got access to the buffet. There was a stampede it was as though people were starved. I admit to being hungry, unfortunately by the time I got to the buffet there was very little food left. I don’t like to be first in the queue, as being fat, I think people will notice and comment on my greed and gluttony. We got a second bottle of Rose and stated on this. Then came another shooting  of the explorer as the manuscript was discovered and he claimed to know the identity of the murderer. Well the Rhinos around Derby will be pleased to be free of his attentions. Perhaps that is why there are so few rhinos around Derby they have all been wrestled.

Then we had to fill in a sheet as to who had done the murders. All of our group got the correct murderers and the correct method but none of our group got the motive. By the end  lulled by the innocent taste of the alcohol, I had consumed a whole bottle of Rose and a glass of Prosecco. 

Considering I usually only drink a maximum of two glasses of wine in an evening and then only occasionally I was certainly under the influence of alcohol and had to concentrate on walking back to out lift. Your father collected a rather giggly wife from Ang’s house and I fell into bed about midnight. I had a lovely evening the food wasn’t that great but the fun was in the entertainment. I probably didn’t behave with the greatest dignity but I do feel a lot better for having let my hair down so to speak.

I hope you enjoy my account of proceedings.

Your loving mother 

 

 

 

 

I was thinking today how often do we  take off our clothes and enter a bath with another person? Perhaps in the first flush of a relationship. possible as an experiment

The problem is that with a standard bath, facing one another, someone always has to have the tap end and the taps poking in one’s back is neither comfortable nor romantic.  Alternatively one can sit behind the other, in which case legs get squashed against the sides of the bath and one is forced to communicate with the back of the head of the person in front.

No, I have concluded that sharing a bath is best left to the writers of romantic and erotic fiction, envisioned but not actually practised in reality.

If sharing a bath with a beloved seems strange, how much stranger is it to share a bath with anyone less familiar. The first time I tried a hot tub was at a friend’s house. In my swimming costume I clambered in somewhat ungainly and settled into a dip in the seating at one end of the appliance. Then what does one talk about staring at three other adults lying in what is in effect a large warm bath with bubbles. Drinking the wine was nice as was watching the stars emerge and the bats come out from their diurnal sleep.  However, it had a decided awkward feel to it. The chilly descent from the warmth of the enveloping water was another disadvantage.

Despite this, for three or four times a week, I remove all my clothes and squeeze myself into unforgiving lycra before climbing into a huge bath with complete strangers all similarly clad. Many of them, would not even recognise me with my clothes on.

Once there I make rhythmical movements for forty five minutes to an hour, before clambering out and walking very stiffly to get a shower. I have carried out this activity for over four years.

Stripped of our clothes, our visible signs of status, jewellry, cars, etc. we are forced to interact on a more intimate level. The level of prejudgement is reduced because there is much less artifice, we are almost literally naked. Strange, that taking away our clothes, should make us more homogenous rather than distinct. After all one human body is pretty similar to another one.

Abandoning our  major materialistic compasses, we clutch at tiny details, the designer swimwear, the mirrored goggles, the blue-tooth device, the fitness monitor, the water bottle to make our assessments of wealth, power, lifestyle and status.

In this unreal state, the most visceral differences are apparent to all, we are male and female, fat or thin, fit or unfit, black, white, asian, old and young. Our physical disabilities, our scars, our tattoos are clearly visible, and, despite the obvious efforts of some swimmers, their lack of muscle tone is obvious.

Why do I indulge in such an embarrassing display?

The play of light on water constantly changing and reflecting bouncing from the windows and creating moving images on the bottom of the pool is both immensely soothing and beautiful. The feel of water, the splash the spray, the wave is always the same, yet forever new. The sound as I slice through the surface and the echoing  quality of the sound in the high space has its own charm. The feeling of being free, untrammelled by gravity, able to move in any direction with fluidity is enthralling.

Finally, while I swim, my mind roams as free as my body.

People often ask me how many lengths I do. I used to count them, but then I would compete against myself. Too much of my life is taken up with targets. I want my mind to drift in and out of all subjects, just as my body drifts. There are no limits to my thoughts and my imagination, as I plough up and down the lengths of the pool.

If I miss a week I get  grumpy, crotchety and irritable unable to settle to things. It exercises my body and soothes my mind at the same time  It provides a space between the world of work and the world of home.  A kind of cleansing from the grime of interaction with people and ideas alien to my world-view.

I am glad I took the time to reflect and analyse, on why I love this activity so much and how strange and unreal it is. I hope you find it a little insightful

As my friends have started to call me since I sent them pieces of poetry.

The intellectual stalker

I was struck today at how subtle this time of year is. Spring arrives with huge changes, plants spring back into growth and flowers emerge. Insects start to emerge from hibernation and the sun finally warms the back of one’s neck. This time of year the signs are less obvious and only noticed by those who observe.

A couple of days ago I saw four swifts circling and screaming in the evening sunshine the first ones I had seen for two weeks. When we crossed the channel at the beginning of the month groups of swallows were also crossing alongside the ferry. Untroubled by the political turmoil surrounding immigration.  This is the one of the first markers of impending autumn. The swallows are massing, chattering on the wires. Terns and non breeding migrants start to return south in dribs and drabs. In woodlands the songs of territory and breeding are gone replaced by contact calls and mixed flocks of warblers and finches. In the garden late emerging butterflies gather on the buddleia. Whilst bees frantically search for nectar and pollen.

The mornings are cooler now as dusk falls before eight pm. Showers and fluffy clouds chase each other across the sky. As I walk, the fields are stubble, sometimes a cloud of dust and chaff indicates a combine harvester clearing a late field of wheat. Most of the summer flowers are over and most wild plants are seeding.  The brambles are laden with blackberries and here and there small groups of people gather them a late summer ritual.  I walked long the Nutbrook trail yesterday and filled an ice cream container.

In my greenhouse, spiders weave thousands of webs across anywhere they can access.

In the evening clouds of gnats fly mournfully as cool breezes stir the willows by the river whilst terns call overhead.

And you one of my dearest friends- In this liminal time of subtle change and metamorphoses you were born.

How apt that you came into the world with the gentlest time of change, when everything was bearing fruit and ripening. The descriptors of the season so completely match your personality.

After a certain age one does not need more stuff, one’s house being stuffed with possessions. Nor does one relish sweet things as much, conscious of the inches on the waist, but this note marking your anniversary I thought you would enjoy.

Happy Birthday

Dear Son,

I haven’t told you about my visit to London I am unable to go out today so now seems as good a time as any to tell you about my first day in London. I had an exciting train journey. I had pre-booked and so had a forward facing window seat with a table with my ticket number on it. The train carriage was rather full and as usual I settled down to watching my fellow passengers and listening to their conversations. People watching I find endlessly fascinating. The exciting part, came when a Nigerian lady and her friend, together with monstrous luggage, demanded to sit in the seats on the other side of the carriage directly opposite me. The people sitting there, a family ( Who incidentally were not English lest you accuse me of racism) with a small boy and a girl were convinced that they had booked those seats and the father produced the tickets to verify this. There were raised voices, as the lady waved her booking form and asserted her right to the seats, whilst the family refused to move. She huffed and pouted. Then she grumbled loudly. I was impressed with the family who remained polite and courteous throughout. Eventually, a very stern lady in a uniform appeared and the Nigerian lady made a loud complaint about not getting her seat. The train manager, informed the woman that not only was her booking form not a ticket, but that the date of travel on the booking form was not the same as the the day she was travelling. Consequently, she concluded, that as the woman was travelling without a valid ticket, she would have to fine her. I did not believe that this lady could be more vociferous, but she proved me wrong and with much arm waving and loud debate they left the carriage, which immediately fell silent. In spite of her loudness, there was something appealing in her flamboyance and passionate belief in her own rightness, despite all evidence to the contrary.  In comparison, the rest of the journey was rather dull and we pulled into St Pancras without further incident and on time.  After searching for a bit I found the left luggage office and left my bags. In the foyer of St Pancras there is a blue piano chained up to prevent theft, likewise a piano stool. They are for members of the public to amuse themselves on.  A young man was playing Beethoven with great fluency and passion. His standard was professional and his interpretation was lyrical. I was completely entranced and watched him for a while whilst ensuring I was unobserved as I did not want to break his concentration. When I eventually ventured outside it was blissfully warm and sunny. I soon found the entrance to The British Library.

It seemed a shame to leave the bright sunshine and go inside, but I had to find some food and the cafe seemed a good bet. In the coffee bar, most people were on their tablets, phones or laptops. A few people gossiped and it wasn’t long before a couple of elderly ladies approached me, to share my table. I spent a happy half hour finding out about their lives. In the centre of the library, is a tower of books, extending up through all the floors and surrounded by glass. The volumes were huge and imposing, however the effect is striking and spectacular. I sat in the cafe for some time getting my bearings.

In one side room was an exhibition on Magna Carta and in another was the collection of the treasures of the British library and it was the latter I had come to see.

I have to say, I was in bliss as I wandered round examining a Bach manuscript (J.S rather than any of the others). They had a copy of the Thomas Tallis Spem in Allium the forty part motet (Currently famous from 50 Shades of Grey). Mr Tallis is probably spinning in his grave about that still if it introduces a new audience to beautiful music I for one will not complain. I read a page of Alice in Wonderland in Charles Dodgson’s handwriting with his illustrations. There was the page of a manuscript of Jane Austen’s History of the English People. There was a page of Jane Eyre with all of Charlotte Bronte’s crossings out. A page of Great Expectations, quite a few pages of Trollope, but being only familiar with the Barsetshire Chronicles  the others were a mystery.

Moving on there were cases of illuminated manuscripts as much works of art as works of literature. Indeed they were exquisite in their details. Some of the virtual texts, could be examined in detail and the attention to every small part is unbelievable, especially when you consider that these were written in an age when monks used candles. There was a Gutenberg bible ( my computer doesn’t do umlauts sorry). Even more precious, was a copy of Wycliffe’s New Testament, a book that cast him his life. A first folio of Shakespeare and numerous other works from eastern literary traditions.

Mindful of the need to accomplish ten thousand steps a day I eventually dragged myself away and went to explore the rest of the library. In order to visit the rooms containing the books, one needs to have a reader’s card and as I did not possess such a thing, I could only explore the common areas. Still, I discovered a small exhibition on how damaged books are cleaned and rebound. I found the process fascinating and, as I was the only person in the exhibition, I lingered a good while, smelling the leather used to bind the books and examining the tools that are used. The sheer amount of work and attention to detail that goes into restoring  and rebinding a book was amazing. Making this visit was one of the highlights of my trip to London. I was unable to take photos of the various manuscripts and consequently there are no photos to keep you entertained in this narrative.

I hope you didn’t find my account too boring.

All my love

Your mother