The Social Whirl

I love it when my diary is filled with days full of fun, shared with friends and family.  This weekend was one such time.

A year ago, Mary tipped us the wink that our discovery  ;-) was to perform in London and we might keep an eye out for concert tickets.  Keep an eye out we did, so carefully that we were the first to book for Friday night’s concert at The Barbican.

So, best seats in the house for the most memorable evening, thanks to “The Dude” and his band.  We heard Mahler’s 9th, which isn’t high on our list of Mahler favourites – or should I say, wasn’t.  The length of the symphony meant that it was the sole piece on the programme and to begin with I wondered if we’d feel a little short-changed.  The tickets were expensive and the effort of getting to the Barbican is considerable. We needn’t have worried, though, because after listening to an hour and a half of the most compelling and powerful, roller-coaster of a journey through every emotion, mood and spirit, neither of us wanted to overwrite that magical final movement.  Indeed, the man himself stretched it out as long as he felt able; the audience and the orchestra left hanging on his upheld baton for a good minute and a half’s silence after the final note had drifted away…before gradually, ever so slowly, the lowering of the arm and the gentle sigh of relief was broken by first a single clap and soon the sound of rapturous applause.

What a night!

Coincidentally, two dear friends decided to hold their joint birthday party on Saturday lunchtime, in the very smart surroundings of The Ivy.  We had a lovely time in delightful company and who couldn’t enjoy a birthday lunch which features Rhubarb Sponge and Custard for pudding?

Not only that, but we were given going home presents too!

We couldn’t leave it there, so a bunch of us went to Les Mis (some for the first time, some for the fourth or fifth!)

Of course, we still didn’t really want to go home…and another birthday was dawning for one of us, so we adjourned to the appropriately named Cafe des Amis where we gently put the day to rest over a plate or two and a bottle or three.

What a grand weekend.

The Fishwives of Billingsgate

We’ve been in London for a few days, celebrating friends’ birthdays and enjoying a bit of Mahler at the Barbican.  On Friday morning, with a bright and clear outlook, we decided to revisit some recent discoveries and add a couple of new ones to the list.  With camera in hand, we set out from our bolthole in Spitalfields and headed towards the area of our photographic walk last December.

What a difference the weather makes.  Last time, it was all rather wet and flat and those reflections in the windows were of grey skies and raindrops.  This time, it was bright and breezy – still cold, but we were wrapped up warm and still reaping the rewards of the porridge we’d had for breakfast!

So, with a spring in our step and Oyster cards in our pockets, we headed for the Docklands Light Railway and for the first time in twenty or so years, decided to explore Canary Wharf.  It’s changed quite a bit in that time and on a busy Friday lunchtime, we appeared to be the only ones with time to spare to stand and stare.

As the hundreds and thousands of office workers hurried around, we admired the details underfoot, taking photographs rather quickly, so as not to get in the way!  These mosaics, beautifully detailed and offering an insight into the history and background of London trades and occupations caught my eye and I made a mental note to return at a quieter time of day to spend longer looking, reading and drawing.

So, taking my photograph quickly, I wasn’t able to capture the wording which surrounds the panel: “The trade in tea, coffee and chocolate created a huge demand for porcelain cups and saucers” 

I did, however, get this one:

“The fishwives of Billingsgate Market had an awesome reputation for their foul language and ribaldry”

I bet they did!

How about “The original Canary Wharf took its name from the tomatoes, fruit and potatoes imported here from the Canary Islands”?

And “Dockers in the carpet warehouse were more skilled in identifying origins than experts in museums”

A total of thirteen panels each one telling a different story – what a great way to record the history of this city.  Sadly, my photographs don’t do the rich colours and beautiful compositions justice, though this gives me a very good reason to return.

I have a sneaky feeling that someone else will enjoy a visit here, too.

But next time, we’ll not come on Friday lunchtime!

Monday Morning Mystery

I am about to begin some work which will take most of the day and trying my best not to prevaricate, I assembled the references I needed.  As I picked up one book, this fell out

The letter isn’t addressed to me, nor to anyone who I know.  I don’t recognise the name of the sender and though I know the location of the address, it’s not near here nor is it somewhere with which I’ve ever had any connection.  The book it fell from was only published in 2008, so quite how a letter dated 1993 is a complete mystery to me.

Now, I really must get on with my work.

You can make the rest of the story up for me!

Home Delivery

We went into Cirencester to do our shopping this morning, having the luxury of time to shop in the greengrocers, our great local butchers and our award-winning bakery.  Of course, there’s the added attraction of the best breakfast in town too, raising a morning of everyday shopping into something a little more special.  When all of that is done we can go and buy the boring stuff that’s still on the list, like Pledge polish, at Waitrose on the way home.

Whilst we were out on this cold January morning, others were having their shopping delivered, by Sainsburys, Waitrose, Tesco or by Teddy.

Here he is, making his way up the lane this morning, ready for a day on his delivery rounds.  He might not be in the news so much now, but he’s still there, busy as ever.

A favourite place

We’ve just spent a couple of nights in one of our favourite places.  The colours of the Devonshire Fell Hotel never fail to lift the spirits on the gloomiest of January days, though spirits were far from gloomy on this trip!

We drove up on Tuesday, taking a rather different route from our usual one and making a short stop where gold eagles perch on drainpipes

and where the interior decor reminds us of a visit we made to Las Vegas, a few years ago.

Such opulence.  So many curiosities.  So very Trafford Centre!

Having paid homage to St Michael and his friends, we stepped outside to find the most remarkable winter sky and continued our journey into Yorkshire.  Arriving in Skipton with plenty of time to spare, I stopped by The Fent Shop and Samuel Taylors in Embsay, dearly wishing they were nearer to home whilst at the same time, wondering if it’s a good job they’re not!

As we made the final leg of our journey, over Barden Moor before dropping down into Wharfedale, the late afternoon light was so magical, we stopped for a few minutes to take it all in.  What a magnificent place to be on a day like this!

The view from our window at The Devonshire Fell is a favourite.  We’ve sat watching the postman making his way down into the valley and the dustbin men working their way up and over the hill on previous visits.  This time, we simply stared and enjoyed the peace of the early morning.

 

Whilst one of us went into Harrogate, for curd tarts from Bettys and a day in the fresh air, I spent the day in the company of some remarkably talented women, who were eager to share their skills and more than one or two giggles with me.  What a great way to spend my time!

This morning, our favourite view was rather frosty and the temperature rather lower than we expected.

With the car de-iced, we were ready to leave for home.

With one last stop along the way to take in enough of that glorious landscape to last us until next time.

Ah, Yorkshire.