Gadget Girl

I taught one of my favourite classes this morning.  Being of the firm opinion that contrary to all evidence, techie gadgets are not purely the domain of the under 30s and that they work equally well with a female hand on the controls, I very much enjoy the chance to prove my point.  What better way to spend a morning than encouraging eleven wise and very capable women to spend time finding out a bit about these small gadgets and what fun they might have with them?

In no time at all, photos were being bluetoothed to the Pogo printer, videos were being shot and there was a little tussle over who was going to get hold of the voice recorder next.  Imaginations were running over with ideas for recording the family history during a daily walk and there was a squeal of delight as someone completed a puzzle on my iphone.  The benefits of Kindles and ebooks were discussed to the sound of Abba coming from an ipod attached to a lego block speaker and one by one, everyone found something to amuse and delight them.

Without doubt, the favourite thing of the morning was the voice recorder, which was about to be added to several birthday lists – until I revealed to them the likelihood that their mobile phone would have one included.

Cue the sound of eleven wise and very capable women quickly switching on their phone and discovering something they’ve had all the time but never knew.

I love my work!

Learn something new

I had an email from Shimelle yesterday, alerting me to the fact that her  daily “Learn Something New Every Day” prompts will be dropping into my email box very soon as her class begins again.  I’ve followed this class for a couple of years now and though I remembered the first year very well and could bring the book I made immediately to mind, I couldn’t for the life of me recall the one I made lat year.

That’s because I didn’t finish it.

I remember thinking that I was pushed for time last September and deliberately chose a simple format.  Without too much bother, I soon laid my hands on the half made thing, lurking in a ziploc bag by my desk.

Fortunately, also in the bag were the remaining photographs I’d already printed out ready to include, so I quickly got the glue out, printed the captions and in no time at all I’d completed the book. There it is in the basket of other small books, looking a bit like a carrier bag, because I’d chosen to make the cover from a bunting-design bag I received when I bought slippers last September.  The slipper story is just one of those inside.

But also inside was a completed page, reminding me of the pair of shoes I bought and quickly returned to Russell and Bromley.  Because this time last week I happened to be passing R & B in Oxford Street when it was pouring with rain and like any other sensible (!) person might do, I dived into the shop to see what was what. (I was sheltering form the rain, really, honest!)

What should I find on the stand of reduced price shoes but those very same shoes I’d returned, marked half price and with the anchoring rings for the crystal still in place.  When I looked closely at them, I felt almost certain that these were the very same (slightly worn) pair of shoes I had returned this time last year – though of course, I am only 99% sure…  As one of the assistants came over to ask if they could help me, I pointed out that although these shoes were a very attractive style and colour, there were two curious rings attached to the chain on the front and if I wasn’t mistaken, I had returned an identical pair which had a crystal hanging there which broke.  To give the chap his due, he looked suitably sheepish and said that yes, he seemed to think that was the case and if so, these shoes should be marked as “substandard”.

And second hand?

Back to the beginning

I’ve just finished this rather compelling book and now think I need to go right back to the beginning and read it again.

Libya

When we travel, we try to gather an insight into wherever we are, going beyond the simple tourist sites and learning more about ordinary life and culture.  Travelling to Libya last year, we felt that we’d gone some way to achieve this and came home with a different image of the country and its people from the one we had previously.  As a result of this, the ordinary people of Tripoli are very much on my mind this morning. 

I believe the BBC correspondent was standing not far from this spot this morning, outside the elegant hotel where we spent a couple of days.  He described the events going on around him to the sound of shells and gunfire.

I wonder what’s become of these people?  Where is the young woman who stopped to wish us welcome to her country, to thank us for visiting and to hope that we enjoy our stay?  Where are all the refugees from elsewhere in Africa, that were welcomed into the country as part of the regime?  Where are all the families in the marketplace, the young women we met whilst visiting the museum, the charming young man we met at Leptis Magna and his family?

What’s happening in those delightful newly-restored buildings in central Tripoli, where hopes were high for a tourism revival and confidence in the future was placed in beautiful small guesthouses like this?

But uppermost in my mind this morning, what’s become of our dear friend Mohammed and his family?  The incredibly well-read man who made us laugh with his comparison between the Sahara and Weston-super-Mare and who taught us a great deal about life in Libya and the world in general, seen though very different eyes? 

Sad to say, I have no idea.

See more of our photographs of Tripoli and beyond here and hope that all will be well.  Read the blog posts of our incredible time in Libya starting here and hope that, sometime soon, we’ll be able to go there again and feel that Sahara sand between our toes

because really, it’s a long way from Weston super Mare.

Saturday

It’s a funny old day today...it doesn’t know if it’s going to rain or if the sun’s going to shine. Can’t settle. Neither can I!

We went to Uncle Tobe’s funeral yesterday, in Cheltenham and parked in the small car park beside a gravestone marked “Brian Jones”.  In front of the stone there was a tupperware box with something inside and of course, I had to take a closer look.  Sure enough, it was the grave of one of the original Rolling Stones and someone had left a book in his memory there by the headstone.

The funeral was, well, a fitting tribute to a gentleman of 98 years old.  Sad, but a chance to meet other members of his family and to chat and reminisce. 

We arrived home to find the tree surgeons had opened up some pretty large spaces in the old walnut tree which has been overhanging our garden room rather precariously.  They’ve been working for several days now in rain, wind and short bursts of sunshine and have finally done what they can to keep this particular old thing in relatively good shape.  Not only did they take away all the dead wood, they’ve also cleaned our paths and terrace at the same time – bless them.  One less job for us to do – hooray!

It’s clear from the garden that the season is changing already, though.  The scabious are over, leaving these lovely seed heads behind.

Our pink and blue garden is slowly transforming into the orange and blue of late summer and though there was a great deal of warmth in the ten minutes or so of sunny spell we had just now, the grass is wet and there’s a bit of a chill in the air first thing.

By the kitchen door, these lords and ladies are putting on a great show, too.

There’s a remarkably healthy crop of apples and we’ve enjoyed some luscious greengages for lunch.  Edward’s been home this weekend for the funeral, so he’s been out there with a bowl or two and the kitchen is full of fruit which needs attention.

Speaking of fruit, these two small wild strawberries won’t make a meal but they did snap me out of the melancholy mindset at last, by reminding me of this little treasure.

Given to me by the children of Flaxton (scroll down to see a picture of this tiny village school) at the end of my idyllic, final teaching practice in the summer of 1977, the year of the Queen’s Silver jubilee.  We’d had a picnic on the village green to celebrate the jubilee on a beautiful Summer’s day, attracting the interest of the cows nearby, much to the children’s amusement.  With just a handful of children in the infant group, taught in the hall just down the street and about a dozen juniors in the building shown in the photograph, this was just about the best way to spend a couple of months I could think of.  The little piece of Wedgewood china is a lovely reminder of happy summer days!