Yes, I know I seem like a 'festival fiend', as one friend put it by email, but I've only been to two this year, it's just that they were on consecutive weekends.
Moseley was a new experience for me: a festival in a city. Actually, that's not entirely true, as I did take my Paramour to Celtic Connections in Glasgow in January 2008. That's different, though, because it goes on for three weeks at a range of venues around the city. Moseley Folk Festival is in a charming little park, just off the High Street, which slopes down towards a lake. The stages were at the bottom of the slope and we all sat on the ground so that everyone could see over the heads of the people in front (until they stood up, of course). The lake was to the right of the stages and it was slightly surreal at times to watch musicians playing for all they were worth and then look a few feet to the left and see swans gliding across the surface of the water.
The festival had all the usual ingredients: annoyingly uncomfortable wristbands, children's activities, retail tents and yummy food options - an artisan boulangerie was a particular favourite, and the falafel and Goan curry stalls were excellent too. The CD stall didn't stock performers' CDs unless the performers had brought some along, which seemed odd and I'm sure meant fewer sales in some cases. Taking your own alcohol on site was forbidden, which was not a problem for most people as there was an excellent beer tent but I can no longer drink real ale as it has undesirable side-effects. Wine was ridiculously expensive at £5 for a small glass so I'm afraid we developed our smuggling skills. However, these were the only quibbles.
The weather was cool and breezy, but dry, apart from a five-minute shower on Sunday. And the music was superb. Vetiver were a new discovery (thanks for the tip-off, Mike); Jim Moray did a great set; I'd been wanting to see Ade Edmondson and the Bad Shepherds for ages, and they were very impressive; Nancy Kerr and James Fagan were delightful; the Demon Barber Roadshow offered astonishing dancing (morris duet, clog trio, and sword quintet) as well as highly competent musicianship; Cara Dillon was excellent; Heidi Talbot turned up as a guest with Drever, McCusker and Woomble, which was a lovely surprise, and they were wonderful. Jethro Tull headlined, Ian Anderson seems to have more energy than most people half his age, they played a storming set, I particularly enjoyed the Bach Bourree.
Walking off the festival site straight into Moseley High Street was a surreal experience, but there is a lot to be said for being ten minutes away from our friends' big warm house with its bathrooms and comfy beds and well-stocked kitchen and two sociable cats. They had three other friends staying, as well as my Paramour and I, and a couple of people lamented the lack of opportunity to stay up all night drinking and playing/listening to music, but I didn't miss that at all. I feel as if I've had a real holiday. If only I didn't have to try to get my brain into work gear, my life would be perfect!
Monday, 7 September 2009
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Environment Rant
I've been a Guardian reader for most of my life, but this week the paper has really annoyed me with its 10:10 campaign. They want everyone to cut their carbon emissions by 10% in the next year. So far, so worthy, I suppose. Then they suggest ways in which people might do this, and those are what have made me spit and snarl with rage.
Colours to mast: I think climate change is a serious problem and I've been working on ways to reduce my impact on the planet for years now. I'm no paragon of eco-virtue: I live in a big old house because I like it, and although my Paramour and I have taken measures to improve its eco-efficiency (insulation, new boiler, wood-burning stove etc) it will never be as efficient as a new house. I'm taking two short-haul flights this year, although I didn't fly in the 12 months before the first of those. We have two cars because, although we both work from home (eco-good), we both have to travel to meetings as our clients dictate and in our rural area public transport services are slooooow and intermittent. I use the shower most days, but I love long hot baths. I choose local/UK food where I can, but I'm not giving up chocolate. So I'm aware, and I work at it, but I'm not setting myself up as some kind of eco-queen.
However, I have serious problems with the Guardian's guidelines. For example, they suggest that you should buy a new fridge, at the highest eco-rating, if yours is more than 4 years old. I'm not scientiffical like some bloggers, but I would like to see the research behind this (if there is any) as I'm not convinced fridge disposal is all that eco-friendly. I know they don't have CFCs in any more, but what happens to them? If they get shipped to China, how many carbon emissions does that cause?
Then the Guardian suggests that you keep electronic devices (computers, mobile phones etc) for a year longer than you otherwise would, which seems to conflict with the previous suggestion. And the next one, which is to switch from a desktop computer to a laptop at home, and recycle the desktop. How can you keep your computer for a year longer than you otherwise would AND swap it for a laptop?
Grow all your own fruit and veg for July-September. And - get rid of your freezer. So in August, when the tomatoes and runner beans and plums are glutting like crazy and you can't give them away because everyone else's are too, you should just throw the surplus on the compost, and then buy freighted veg from October onwards? That's really good for the environment, is it?
I could go on, but I won't, because there's another thing. Even if I do take short-haul flights and long baths, my carbon footprint is very, very small compared to most people's. (Unlike my real footprint of which the less said the better.) Why is my carbon footprint so small? Because I have chosen not to have children.
I know this is an emotive subject. I am absolutely not trying to say people shouldn't have children, full stop. However, it makes me really cross that the Guardian can kick off this whole debate without even mentioning that having children is, in terms of environmental efficiency at least, a very bad idea. The population of the world has more than doubled in my lifetime - from under 3.3 billion in 1964, when I was born, to over 6.7 billion today. That is a fairly terrifying statistic, and has a great deal to do with why we're in this climactic mess.
My own decision not to have children was heavily influenced by learning about Malthus and population increase for A level geography. I remember thinking 'we really don't need any more people on this planet' (and that was in 1980, at just over 4.4 billion). I also remember thinking that if our population was in dangerous decline, I would have felt much more inclined to have children myself. This wasn't the only reason for my decision, but it was a sizeable contributory factor.
I've been pilloried and praised, over the years. Generally I get more praise than censure these days. Interestingly, in recent years, I've been thanked by several mums of teenagers for embodying the alternative to parenthood for their children - not because those parents definitely want their children not to reproduce, but because they want them to know they have a choice.
That seems to me to be the crux of the matter. It's not about saying to people 'don't have children' or 'you shouldn't have children.' It's about helping people understand that it's OK to choose not to have children; that in planetary terms it's actually helpful; that a childfree life can be a happy and fulfilling life. And that's really why I'm so irate with the Guardian, because they're ignoring the whole damn, please forgive the pun, issue.
Colours to mast: I think climate change is a serious problem and I've been working on ways to reduce my impact on the planet for years now. I'm no paragon of eco-virtue: I live in a big old house because I like it, and although my Paramour and I have taken measures to improve its eco-efficiency (insulation, new boiler, wood-burning stove etc) it will never be as efficient as a new house. I'm taking two short-haul flights this year, although I didn't fly in the 12 months before the first of those. We have two cars because, although we both work from home (eco-good), we both have to travel to meetings as our clients dictate and in our rural area public transport services are slooooow and intermittent. I use the shower most days, but I love long hot baths. I choose local/UK food where I can, but I'm not giving up chocolate. So I'm aware, and I work at it, but I'm not setting myself up as some kind of eco-queen.
However, I have serious problems with the Guardian's guidelines. For example, they suggest that you should buy a new fridge, at the highest eco-rating, if yours is more than 4 years old. I'm not scientiffical like some bloggers, but I would like to see the research behind this (if there is any) as I'm not convinced fridge disposal is all that eco-friendly. I know they don't have CFCs in any more, but what happens to them? If they get shipped to China, how many carbon emissions does that cause?
Then the Guardian suggests that you keep electronic devices (computers, mobile phones etc) for a year longer than you otherwise would, which seems to conflict with the previous suggestion. And the next one, which is to switch from a desktop computer to a laptop at home, and recycle the desktop. How can you keep your computer for a year longer than you otherwise would AND swap it for a laptop?
Grow all your own fruit and veg for July-September. And - get rid of your freezer. So in August, when the tomatoes and runner beans and plums are glutting like crazy and you can't give them away because everyone else's are too, you should just throw the surplus on the compost, and then buy freighted veg from October onwards? That's really good for the environment, is it?
I could go on, but I won't, because there's another thing. Even if I do take short-haul flights and long baths, my carbon footprint is very, very small compared to most people's. (Unlike my real footprint of which the less said the better.) Why is my carbon footprint so small? Because I have chosen not to have children.
I know this is an emotive subject. I am absolutely not trying to say people shouldn't have children, full stop. However, it makes me really cross that the Guardian can kick off this whole debate without even mentioning that having children is, in terms of environmental efficiency at least, a very bad idea. The population of the world has more than doubled in my lifetime - from under 3.3 billion in 1964, when I was born, to over 6.7 billion today. That is a fairly terrifying statistic, and has a great deal to do with why we're in this climactic mess.
My own decision not to have children was heavily influenced by learning about Malthus and population increase for A level geography. I remember thinking 'we really don't need any more people on this planet' (and that was in 1980, at just over 4.4 billion). I also remember thinking that if our population was in dangerous decline, I would have felt much more inclined to have children myself. This wasn't the only reason for my decision, but it was a sizeable contributory factor.
I've been pilloried and praised, over the years. Generally I get more praise than censure these days. Interestingly, in recent years, I've been thanked by several mums of teenagers for embodying the alternative to parenthood for their children - not because those parents definitely want their children not to reproduce, but because they want them to know they have a choice.
That seems to me to be the crux of the matter. It's not about saying to people 'don't have children' or 'you shouldn't have children.' It's about helping people understand that it's OK to choose not to have children; that in planetary terms it's actually helpful; that a childfree life can be a happy and fulfilling life. And that's really why I'm so irate with the Guardian, because they're ignoring the whole damn, please forgive the pun, issue.
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Shrewsbury Folk Festival
Well, that was one seriously good weekend. It didn't rain much: some light drizzle for an hour or two on Sunday afternoon, and again on Monday. The gigs were terrific. There was so much to see that I missed some great acts (Belshazzar's Feast, The Chair, Faustus) but I caught so many good ones: Seth Lakeman, Megson, The Wilsons, Karine Polwart, Lau, The Darwin Project, Show Of Hands, The Spooky Men's Chorale, and my absolute favourite: Chris Wood, singer/songwriter extraordinaire. If you have time on your hands and reasonable quality speakers on your computer, go to his MySpace page and listen to One In A Million. The clue's in the name. (I love Come Down Jehovah, too. He described it as 'an atheist spiritual' and there aren't many of those around.)
The food was fantastic. Pie and mash and gravy, nachos and burritos, an on-site smokery, wraps of all descriptions (a veggie sausage wrap with lots of fried onions and ketchup nuked a nascent hangover yesterday morning), organic hot chocolate, crepes, full-on veggie fry-ups (and meat ones of course), plus lots of other options as well. There were also lots of good shopping opportunities. I kind of broke my vow of not buying any clothes this year, well, you see, the thing is, there was a lovely bloke called Terry Brown selling good quality hand-made shoes, and I've got difficult feet, and I used to get hand-made boots from a place in Leeds called Made To Last, but they've closed down, and I've been looking for some more (that I can afford) for ages, and they don't come around very often, and I got chatting to Terry and discovered that he's been making shoes since the 1970s, and loves it, and doesn't use the Internet, or take deposits, he just finds out your size and width and writes that down in a notebook with your name and address and phone number, then he sends you some shoes when he gets around to it, and then you send him some money when you get around to it, and this works for him. While we were chatting, a man came up and asked Terry if he'd been at some festival or other ten years ago, and Terry said yes he had, and the man said he'd bought a pair of shoes from him then and had been looking for him since because he'd worn the shoes virtually every day and they still hadn't worn out but could he please have another pair. Anyway, I don't really think I broke my vow, because Terry's boots aren't exactly clothes, more works of art.
The site is compact, flat and accessible (if you fancy doing a festival in this part of the world next year, Hilary, and could find accommodation nearby, I think you'd enjoy it enormously). Not everything was perfect: the wristbands were horrible, the portable toilets vile - although there were loads of plumbed-in ones which were fine - and the wine was ridiculously expensive at £3.50 for a 175 ml bottle. I know beer is the traditional drink at festivals, but although I love real ale it has disastrous effects on my digestive system which are horribly antisocial, particularly inside a zipped-up tent. Luckily I'd had the forethought to take along a few bottles of wine, which saved me a lot of money - but then I went to the CD tent, discovered they took credit cards and promptly wiped out those savings. Oh well!
My favourite sight of the weekend was a boy of about 10, zooming along on a unicycle while playing a guitar and grinning as if life was really delivering for him. I chatted with loads of people - it's a very friendly festival - and really didn't want to come home. I even managed to write 1000 words a day (well, if I'm strictly honest, I wrote 1500 words and edited another 1500 that I nicked from the previous version) and, see my word counter, have now completed 20% of my rewrite!
The food was fantastic. Pie and mash and gravy, nachos and burritos, an on-site smokery, wraps of all descriptions (a veggie sausage wrap with lots of fried onions and ketchup nuked a nascent hangover yesterday morning), organic hot chocolate, crepes, full-on veggie fry-ups (and meat ones of course), plus lots of other options as well. There were also lots of good shopping opportunities. I kind of broke my vow of not buying any clothes this year, well, you see, the thing is, there was a lovely bloke called Terry Brown selling good quality hand-made shoes, and I've got difficult feet, and I used to get hand-made boots from a place in Leeds called Made To Last, but they've closed down, and I've been looking for some more (that I can afford) for ages, and they don't come around very often, and I got chatting to Terry and discovered that he's been making shoes since the 1970s, and loves it, and doesn't use the Internet, or take deposits, he just finds out your size and width and writes that down in a notebook with your name and address and phone number, then he sends you some shoes when he gets around to it, and then you send him some money when you get around to it, and this works for him. While we were chatting, a man came up and asked Terry if he'd been at some festival or other ten years ago, and Terry said yes he had, and the man said he'd bought a pair of shoes from him then and had been looking for him since because he'd worn the shoes virtually every day and they still hadn't worn out but could he please have another pair. Anyway, I don't really think I broke my vow, because Terry's boots aren't exactly clothes, more works of art.
The site is compact, flat and accessible (if you fancy doing a festival in this part of the world next year, Hilary, and could find accommodation nearby, I think you'd enjoy it enormously). Not everything was perfect: the wristbands were horrible, the portable toilets vile - although there were loads of plumbed-in ones which were fine - and the wine was ridiculously expensive at £3.50 for a 175 ml bottle. I know beer is the traditional drink at festivals, but although I love real ale it has disastrous effects on my digestive system which are horribly antisocial, particularly inside a zipped-up tent. Luckily I'd had the forethought to take along a few bottles of wine, which saved me a lot of money - but then I went to the CD tent, discovered they took credit cards and promptly wiped out those savings. Oh well!
My favourite sight of the weekend was a boy of about 10, zooming along on a unicycle while playing a guitar and grinning as if life was really delivering for him. I chatted with loads of people - it's a very friendly festival - and really didn't want to come home. I even managed to write 1000 words a day (well, if I'm strictly honest, I wrote 1500 words and edited another 1500 that I nicked from the previous version) and, see my word counter, have now completed 20% of my rewrite!
Friday, 28 August 2009
We're All Going On A...
My Paramour and I are scheduled to depart at lunchtime today for Shrewsbury Folk Festival. He has a monster work deadline to meet before we go, and it's anyone's guess whether he'll manage it in time - or, if he doesn't, whether he'll abandon the work project or put in a request for a late departure. He had a small meltdown last night when he discovered that he's managed to buy us tickets that don't include camping - and the festival is now sold out - but one of our friends has been a steward there for years, and she reckons she can find a way around the problem for us. If all else fails, I have a key for a friend's house in Shrewsbury, but it's a couple of miles from the festival site so not ideal.
I haven't started packing yet, but I have started making a list. Wellies, jumpers, mac, thick socks, umbrella, gloves, scarf. Yes, folks, it's August in England. Sigh...
Nevertheless, there should be some good things. Karine Polwart. Ade Edmondson playing thrash mandolin with the Bad Shepherds. Three beer tents, count 'em, three! If we can just get there... and if it would please PLEASE stop raining, and turn down the wind from fierce gusts to gentle breezes. I live in hope. It's a nice place to live. Better than England in August.
Back on Tuesday, if all goes according to plan. Have a good weekend, yourselves.
I haven't started packing yet, but I have started making a list. Wellies, jumpers, mac, thick socks, umbrella, gloves, scarf. Yes, folks, it's August in England. Sigh...
Nevertheless, there should be some good things. Karine Polwart. Ade Edmondson playing thrash mandolin with the Bad Shepherds. Three beer tents, count 'em, three! If we can just get there... and if it would please PLEASE stop raining, and turn down the wind from fierce gusts to gentle breezes. I live in hope. It's a nice place to live. Better than England in August.
Back on Tuesday, if all goes according to plan. Have a good weekend, yourselves.
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Feeling Better?
I was feeling quite low after last weekend. Not miserable, as such, just low in energy and lacking in motivation - which is very unusual for me.
I've been seeing an osteopath for a while, now, for help with back and knee injuries from when I was ill last year. He's lovely, and always wants to know how I am in general, as well as how the musculo-skeletal problems are progressing. I had a treatment this week, and moaned a bit about how I'd been feeling droopy and lacklustre. He remarked, at the end of the treatment, that he expected my energy would rise as a result.
It did. I woke up the next morning with my brain buzzing with ideas that proliferated in all directions. I could barely keep up with myself.
I would have been very pleased about this, if it hadn't been 2 am.
I've been seeing an osteopath for a while, now, for help with back and knee injuries from when I was ill last year. He's lovely, and always wants to know how I am in general, as well as how the musculo-skeletal problems are progressing. I had a treatment this week, and moaned a bit about how I'd been feeling droopy and lacklustre. He remarked, at the end of the treatment, that he expected my energy would rise as a result.
It did. I woke up the next morning with my brain buzzing with ideas that proliferated in all directions. I could barely keep up with myself.
I would have been very pleased about this, if it hadn't been 2 am.
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Not Feeling Quite So Clever Now
I have been so proud of my crochet achievements. (You may have noticed.) The other night I sent Millie an email, with photos, very much like my last blog post. She had no idea what I'd been up to, and I thought she'd be pleased to know I'd been working on a way to mend the lovely blankets her granny made. I told her I thought I was nearly there; that I knew the square I'd crocheted didn't look quite like the ones in the blanket, but I reckoned I'd worked out how to make them like her granny, and I figured the next one would be up to the mark.
Millie phoned me last night. 'Thank you for your email,' she said.
'No problem.' I sat back on the sofa, waiting for my due allocation of gratitude and praise.
'Your crochet looks very good,' she said. 'Although Pete says he's not holding his breath for his blanket.'
Such a joker, Millie's husband. I chuckled obligingly.
'The only thing is,' Millie sounded as if she was trying to suppress a laugh, 'you know my granny's blankets?'
'Er, yes.'
'I can tell you why the squares don't look like the one you've made.' Now she could barely get her words out between giggles. 'My granny didn't crochet those blankets. She knitted them.'
I was speechless. I used to knit! How come I didn't realise? Why didn't any of you lot realise either? Or maybe you did, and you were just being tactful...
'You can crochet blankets too,' Millie said kindly. 'I'm sure they'll be very nice.'
I intend to spend this weekend lying in a darkened room with a cold compress on my forehead, in the hope that by Monday my face will have returned to its normal colour. Have a good one, yourselves!
Millie phoned me last night. 'Thank you for your email,' she said.
'No problem.' I sat back on the sofa, waiting for my due allocation of gratitude and praise.
'Your crochet looks very good,' she said. 'Although Pete says he's not holding his breath for his blanket.'
Such a joker, Millie's husband. I chuckled obligingly.
'The only thing is,' Millie sounded as if she was trying to suppress a laugh, 'you know my granny's blankets?'
'Er, yes.'
'I can tell you why the squares don't look like the one you've made.' Now she could barely get her words out between giggles. 'My granny didn't crochet those blankets. She knitted them.'
I was speechless. I used to knit! How come I didn't realise? Why didn't any of you lot realise either? Or maybe you did, and you were just being tactful...
'You can crochet blankets too,' Millie said kindly. 'I'm sure they'll be very nice.'
I intend to spend this weekend lying in a darkened room with a cold compress on my forehead, in the hope that by Monday my face will have returned to its normal colour. Have a good one, yourselves!
Thursday, 20 August 2009
It Gets Bigger
(well, that should result in some entertaining Google searches)
I think I've worked out the architecture of these granny square things. See here:
(apologies for photo quality - my Paramour 'borrowed' my camera and changed all the settings, and I need to re-read the manual to find out how to change them back again. Photo below taken before my camera was messed about with. I rest my case.)
Anyway, I'm still really pleased with my progress, BUT the square I have made is much looser and holier (in the non-religious sense) than the ones in the blanket I'd like to mend:
I think I've worked out why. In my square, I do three triples before each chain stitch, and - from close inspection of the blanket, with my glasses on - it looks as if Millie's granny did four triples. She probably also had a smaller central circle - I've done a chain of six, but I suspect she used a chain of five or possibly even four. So my next experiments will be along those lines. And at some point soon, it'll be time to try more than one colour. I will, of course, keep you posted. Bet you can't wait!
I think I've worked out the architecture of these granny square things. See here:
(apologies for photo quality - my Paramour 'borrowed' my camera and changed all the settings, and I need to re-read the manual to find out how to change them back again. Photo below taken before my camera was messed about with. I rest my case.)
Anyway, I'm still really pleased with my progress, BUT the square I have made is much looser and holier (in the non-religious sense) than the ones in the blanket I'd like to mend:
I think I've worked out why. In my square, I do three triples before each chain stitch, and - from close inspection of the blanket, with my glasses on - it looks as if Millie's granny did four triples. She probably also had a smaller central circle - I've done a chain of six, but I suspect she used a chain of five or possibly even four. So my next experiments will be along those lines. And at some point soon, it'll be time to try more than one colour. I will, of course, keep you posted. Bet you can't wait!
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