Two worlds

On our way to do the shopping this morning, at the bottom of the hill.

Rather a surprise, because on the top, it was like this.

Ah, Gloucestershire.

Around here

There’s a distinct chill in the air and the season has changed.  I wandered out into the garden this morning in the hope of finding some indicators of the season, but it’s still green and leafy for now.

A few more cold nights and I think we’re going to see some rapid changes on our outlook, however.

We’ve had such a fun weekend; filled with good company and thought provoking and entertaining events, we enjoyed the sunny, sparky Cheltenham Literature Festival atmosphere over a couple of days.  We heard politicians, pundits and the writers themselves and each one of us now finds ourselves with a longer list of books to read than ever.

The logistics are never easy.  We always begin with a wishlist, as soon as the programme is announced and juggle the numerous events to accommodate preferences and time slots.  I sit by my computer on the day the tickets go on sale and do what I can to secure our first choices, though undoubtedly, adjustments have to be made.  This year, we did pretty well and found ourselves with a pretty full schedule for two days.

As if that wasn’t enough, we took in an opera at the cinema for good measure!

Tristan and Isolde was an interesting start to the season, though, with mixed reviews all round.  I maintain that it’s worth hanging in there with Wagner, nevertheless, for that magical moment which only works after several hours’ investment!

(I’m not sure that everyone agreed with me)

This morning, my Hero and I find ourselves in a quiet house.  Everyone’s gone home, the dust has settled and we are slowly getting back into our routine. 

There’s a definite “after the ball is over” feeling around here!

Russia, the first time

It was 1987 when we picked up a copy of the British Airways Sovereign Holidays brochure with the intention of booking a long weekend in Vienna, maybe, or perhaps Prague.  Turning the pages was a dangerous thing, though, because there followed Budapest, Moscow and Leningrad. 

Oooo.

I’d always wanted to go to Moscow, to see St Basils Cathedral and that was really very tempting.  But there on the edge of the page was an even more exciting opportunity: Georgia, Leningrad and Moscow!

I don’t mind admitting that right at that moment, I probably didn’t have a clue where Georgia was.  All I knew was that I wanted to see as much of the world as I could and, if we were making the effort to go so far, well, we might as well make on and see a bit more.

So, in June 1987, we left our two year old boy in the safe company of his grandparents and headed to Russia.  How exciting was that!

Our recent days in St Petersburg gave us cause to reminisce and on our return, to get out a couple of old albums because even in those pre-blog (pre-computer!) days, we recorded everything and I saved all the ephemera, just as I do today.  During the last couple of days, we’ve enjoyed reading about our travels with a delightful group of 16 companions and remembering some of the events which still make us smile when we think about them.

Because one of the topics of conversation has been about how Russia has changed in the intervening 30 years – or not?

To begin with, it’s clear how during those ten days, we were never in control of our destiny, but were at the beck and call of our Russian hosts; in particular, our guide Svetlana.  So, having flown on an early morning flight from London, we found ourselves being taken immediately on a city tour and then on our promised visit to the Hermitage.  At the time, we felt frustrated but went with the flow.  Now, I look at the faces of other group members who were mostly recently retired people and quite understand why they became so tetchy!  It had been an early start for us all and the added anxiety of being in an unfamiliar country where we had no choice but to do as we were told took its toll on that first day.

I recall feeling relieved at the modern, functional hotel and of stepping out at 11pm to see the (almost) midnight sun over the Gulf of Finland, which intstantly put all minor concerns about the day into perspective.  Yes, Russia had – and still has – the power to work magic like that.

A day’s sightseeing in Leningrad followed, including the continuing frustrations of life in the city.  I recorded our efforts to find a small toy to take home for Edward and the mysterious closure of the only shop in which we were allowed to do business: the Beriozka shop in the hotel.  Would it be open tomorrow?  The answer was a shrug and “I don’t know”.

In particular, I found it interesting to see how uncannily similar our programme then was to our programme recently!

Especially since on our last morning in St Petersburg, we went to Petrodvorets and watched those same fountains.  And yes, my hero did remember correctly, there were dancers!

Our subsequent travels in Georgia, including driving through the Caucasus to Baku, on the Caspian Sea are all described in detail, including several breakdowns.

We remember the events so clearly and wondered if, over the years, we’ve elaborated on them but reading through the journals again, I think not!

The focus of our journal is frequently on the food we were offered, which was “interesting” and probably the best available.  With little or no choice, we simply went with the flow, but I’ll bet that we’d notice a huge change in that respect these days.  With a Starbucks on Nevsky Prospekt?  Supermarkets on every street?  Oh yes.

My guess is that we wouldn’t even recognise Baku today.  In the intervening years, Baku has become quite the metropolis, described by Lonely Planet as the “architectural love child of Paris and Dubai”.  I’m happy to remember our evening in the caravanserai in preference to the heat and constant fumes from the nearby oil wells.  At any rate, I doubt that Baku airport still charts the departure information with a chinagraph pencil on a whiteboard now!

By the time we arrived in Moscow, our final stop, we were feeling weary.  Svetlana handed over control of our group to Igor, a well-travelled young man proudly wearing a Five Nations rugby shirt and we’d given up trying to influence decisions.  No use asking to go to the ballet then, because Igor had arranged circus tickets instead.  A gala dinner in a speciality restaurant?  Might we choose one with Russian specialities like beef stroganoff?  We ended up in a Georgian restaurant instead!  But we were having fun – not sure about Svetlana, wearing blue, though!

When I scanned the hotel card from Moscow, I noted the term “floor-attendant” there; another aspect of “the old country” which doesn’t seem to have changed.  Bearing in mind the elderly lady attendants sitting in the museums, churches and other public places would have been little more than young women themselves back in 1987, they’ve grown into the role superbly  and assumed the mantle from their forebears remarkably well.  For no matter where we stood, waited, looked, there she was.  Babushka.  Sitting in her chair watching the goings on, ready to spring to her feet and defend her territory by correcting the behaviour of anyone who transgressed.  Though she might have a mobile phone in her hand now, that same old word was never far from her lips: “niet”.

Though statues may come and go, the mindset of a generation is altogether more resistant to change.

Not yet mitten weather

Did I say I bought a pair of Latvian mittens in Riga?  I had gone prepared with a couple of addresses up my sleeve, having read Bemused’s blog post on the subject a while back.  We’d booked a walking tour of Riga, though, and were none too sure where it would take us.  Still, I kept my eyes peeled throughout!

I was thrilled that our route took us past one address on my list and might just have snapped a photo as we passed by, in case we were set free sometime along the way   Be prepared, eh?

And guess what?  About ten minutes later, we had half an hour to get a coffee…or?

Run!  Back the way we came.  How lucky I am to have a hero with a sense of direction (and a sense of humour) at times like this!

Making a choice was difficult, but limited time meant I needed to be decisive.

I chose a traditional design in colours that I will wear.  I love them!

The cuffs are beautifully worked in a diagonal stitch and fit like…well of course they do!

There’s a good depth of cuff too, ideal for keeping out the winter chill.

Though the cuff is snug, there’s plenty of room for finger wiggling in the top.

I’m very pleased with my souvenir from Riga, knitted by “Latvians Grandmothers”

I think the price was remarkable for a hand made product using quality ingredients, too.

So thank you, Baiba, for your lovely work.  I shall wear them with pleasure.

A child of the Autumn

Arriving home after a couple of weeks away, we were greeted by the usual pile of post.  Most of it went straight in the recycling but one envelope caught my eye and I hung onto it.

With an October birthday, Autumn is “my” time of the year, but during one of those wardrobe colour sessions with a very talented counsellor, I think I was heard to say that if I turned out to be an Autumn kind of person in terms of colour, I’d give up.  Googling images of Autumn just now produced the usual selection – all traditional leafy pictures in a range of orange, browns and yellows.

You see my primary school uniform was brown and primrose yellow and I hated it from the moment I saw it.  I was a Brownie too, so even when I wasn’t in my school uniform, I still couldn’t get away from those awful colours.  On going to grammar school, I was glad to leave it behind but it was only a slight improvement, for that school uniform was maroon.  Why couldn’t we have navy blue or bottle green like everyone else?

Back to the National Trust Autumn catalogue which was in the pile of post, though.  Rather different from the cliched countryside images I’d expect to see on their publications, isn’t it?  Not a speck of brown and yellow in sight.  Following through to their website, with “designs inspired by untamed heathlands and moody landscapes”, I found several things I quite liked.  Bravo National Trust for catching my eye with something a little different from the norm – or did I just fall for their device to capture a new audience?

 

Anyway, my eye was attuned to this alternative Autumn palette as I caught up with a few favourite blogs, including Lia Griffiths whose palette of plum and saffron also appealed to me.  Well, students of colour theory would immediately identify the complementary colour scheme going on there and wouldn’t be surprised that it works so well.  But yay!  no orange!

The BBC website had a section on Autumn poetry, illustrated with photographs including the one above.  Most were the usual leafy landscapes, but this one appealed to me, in spite of the yellows and oranges because they are offset by the navy blue.

Perhaps I’m finding that I am an Autumn girl after all?

Because although I still wouldn’t wear sunshine yellow or marmalade orange, I do wear citrine and purple and perhaps this year, I could be tempted by that deep teal blue?

How interesting is it to observe these colour trends change?   And having noticed it, I find it fascinating to see how it all falls into place.