DAY EIGHTY - drama after drama

 Sometimes, when I wake up early in the morning, I like to pick up BBC4 on my MP3 player (thank you, Jeff and Nicole!) and listen to their morning news program. Today they reported about a remake of a book/movie called Room at the Top. Myfanwy called it one of the genre of ‘Angry Young Men’ stories (who want, naturally, what their privileged contemporaries have and are bound and determined to get it – at whatever cost!)  that were especially prevalent in the early 1950s. I was really intrigued listening to the sendup on the radio – to be broadcast on BBC4’s own telly station this very evening – and decided now here’s something I really don’t want to miss. (In fact, I’ve pretty much restrained myself from watching television altogether since I’ve been here. There’s so much to do, read, look at, and investigate. I figure if I ever did let myself watch, I’d be hooked – there are so many interesting things to watch here in England (all that British stuff we love on PBS stations, firsthand) – and I’d miss out on all those available hours to live life to its fullest. But this was going to be an exception- those broadcasters really painted an appealing picture!) So I asked Myfanwy if she could please show me on my little TV in my sitting room how to tune in this program, which was slated to come on at 9. She said, “oh, you won’t be able to get it on that one. (Well, great! What’s the use of it then?!). However . . . you can watch it on mine. I’m going out.” Great! At which time she proceeded to give me a tip-top tutorial of how the remote works, including all the buttons, on all the different machines, and I was set. Hurray! A couple hours later, after all that, it dawned on me that I wouldn’t even be here tonight – as I am spending the night at Leah’s to be able to help her first thing in the morning. (Tune in tomorrow to learn more.) But, wait . . . I can watch it at Leah’s – and with a watching buddy. Even better! (And I don’t have to be responsible for pushing the right buttons or anything . . . )

Taken from a novel by the same name, the plot of ‘Room at the Top’ concerns a social-climbing audit clerk, Joe Lampton, who, as his ticket to the top, sets his sights on the young daughter of a local council big-wig, despite her being several rungs out of Joe’s league. In the meantime, until then he amuses himself with married and unshockable lover Alice Aisgill. (“There are three people in Joe’s relationship with Alice: Joe, Alice and the massive chip on Joe’s shoulder.”) And that’s only the first five minutes! Now, wouldn’t YOU be intrigued?! Oh, yes, relationships - there’s gonna be some drama there!

Also this morning in talking with Philip, the classics professor (I assumed ‘classics’ meant something along the lines of linguistics, as in the teaching of Latin and Greek, but turns out it’s all about history – one of my favorite subjects!) about his classes, I asked if he thought it would be permissible for me to sit in on one of his lectures. Not only did he think that was a fine idea, he said he had just begun teaching one he thought I might particularly enjoy – one whose the topic concerns the development of the early Christian Church. Fascinating! So next week I will meet up with him on campus to visit his class and afterwards he suggested we get a bite to eat – followed by him giving me a tour of campus. Awesome! I’ve been waiting with baited breath for that opportunity, but so far it just hasn’t happened. Martin had happily offered, but then life got going. When school holidays came to an end, all extracurricular activities, understandably, came to a screeching halt.

But first of all, to get me warmed up, I took myself during the afternoon to ‘the mac,’ Midlands Art Center, celebrating its first 50 years in 2012, to see the new release, ‘Anna Karenina,’ starring Keira Knightley and Jude Law, along with many other notables. Now there’s a tragic drama for you:  family life, passion leading to lust and sin, death, forgiveness, resolution – pretty heady stuff. It’s the archetypal story that’s been told many times before – characters who, though they have a solid family life in the beginning, throw it over for passion, while for others it is not until almost the end that they come to appreciate the importance of genuine family relationships. By the conclusion of ‘Anna Karenina,’ the character, Levin, finds that life’s meaning is to live for goodness in his little corner of the world. Others, like Oblonsky, never do make the discovery and miss out on the true essence, there all along for the taking.

The approach of the film itself caught me unawares – from the stills I’d seen I supposed it was going to be the usual costume period piece, filmed on location. Not until the show ended and the credits rolled, when I saw that the screenplay had been written by Tom Stoppard (known mainly for his forays in the theatre: ‘Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead’ and ‘Shakespeare in Love’ are perhaps his best known examples), did it all make sense. The story unfolded as if watching a play, par for a playwright’s craft. It was a very much stylized, artistic format – reminded me a lot of Moulin Rouge. The best way for me to describe it is to say that it reminds me very much of impressionistic art – but in this case, film as art. Some will like it and some will not. (With love of all things Russian, the characterization of Anna Karenina is high on a pedestal in Leah’s world, so she opted to forego seeing it rather than have her heroes dashed.)

Observations about my movie going experience:  the majority of the matinee attendees were an older crowd. Above 60-ers get the reduced concession admission rate of £5, matinee or evening. (That’s me – yes!)  I was surprised to find that there was a good full 20 minutes of liquor, etc. ads before getting anywhere close to the previews.  Also of note was that there was incidental lighting all over the theatre – quite substantial, too – until BAM! off they popped, the moment the feature film began.

When the film ended, being as it had been a matinee, it was still a lovely autumn afternoon and I was in no hurry. I mused over the meaning of life, aka my movie-going experience, as I strolled through the lovely Cannon Hill Park, that I have mentioned several times before (my own fabulous, “everything-you-could-ever-want-in-a-park park, a mere 10 minute walk from home!). Under one particular tree my attention was stolen away as I began to notice small bits of some natural material dropping down from somewhere above – cascading down like some ligneous landslide or waterfall or some such thing. Falling, falling without ceasing, one after another, bits and bits of different sizes, until at one point I instinctively jumped back out of the way so to avoid a golf-sized piece as it came careening right for me. As I leaned over to see what it could be, I discovered that it was a horse chestnut (I’ve heard them referred to as “conkers” around here. Wait a minute, hold the press – I’ve just had an epiphany regarding why some people called them conkers – because they’ve been known to fall out of trees and conk you on the head!). Peering up into the branches, I saw the cause of the mystery: a nice fat grey squeerel, high above me, holding a nut, turning it with lightning speed in his paws whilst gnawing it with his prominent front teeth.  Now there’s Mother Nature up front for you! (As I mentioned just recently, it is definitely a prevalent time for squirrel activity AND . . . I still cannot get close enough, or keep them still enough, long enough, to get a decent photo. Pooh – they’re making my photo-taking skills look bad!)

Oh, boy, was I all primed for a good night’s entertainment later that evening when I arrived at the Wards’ home! However, when Leah checked the TV listing we learned that ‘Room at the Top’ contained strong language and sexual content; parental approval advised. More lust, adultery, and mayhem, oh my! “Sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be watching this.” Well, me neither, of course – (darn!) According to Leah, on British telly all bets are off in regards to censorship after 9pm  – anything goes . . . and does – regrettably! Well, so much for that drama – of an angry young man scheming for a place at the top. (Ever seen the 1951 film, ‘A Place in the Sun,’ based on the novel, ‘An American Tragedy,’ by Theodore Dreiser? It stars Elizabeth Taylor and the tragically-lost, love of her life, Montgomery Cliff? Good stuff {I’m allowed to say that because I’m a psychology geek. More of the same relationship and wanting what you don’t have stuff}.) I suppose, when it comes down to it, there’s drama enough in the course of an average day to go around as it is.

Ollieism_ I was just sharing with Andrew that it turns out that Ollie is his kind of boy - meaning, Leah said that he also REALLY likes women, and all things related to them. Just yesterday he told his mom he REALLY liked Auntie Honey Bee's hair - because it is REALLY crazy and he likes that! Also once last year when they went to pick up Katya from school and her young, beautiful, nicely-figured teacher walked past in a sleeveless summer dress, he dreamily exclaimed (and what part of her did he notice?!), you know, Mummy, I REALLY like Miss Phillip’s arms!

Now here’s something from Katya_  She told her mom, quite seriously the other day that for Christmas she would please like EDUCATIONAL and INFORMATIVE books – about dinosaurs and volcanoes. Now that girl doesn’t mince words – because those were the very descriptors she used. Now what 6 year-old asks for ANYTHING in terms of ‘educational and informative,’ let alone use that terminology in the first place!

Photos_

1- 1959 movie poster

2- Keira as Anna

3- actual conker culprit

4- his buddy, up a different tree  

5- of all the “gall”

6- Canada geese hanging out in someone else’s neighborhood

7- friendly school girl (with dog) who agreed to let me take her picture in order to capture her crazy
    stegosaurus backpack

DAY SEVENTY NINE - Ollie & Oscar – again

Dawn broke this morning resilient and consistent as ever – and colorful.

A couple days ago as I was eating breakfast and perusing Myfanwy’s local Birmingham newspaper, I came across this little blip in a section called 'Yours,' highlighting local community news, that read something like ‘send us your first day at school (interesting – we would say your first day “of” school) pictures.’ I knew that Katya and Oliver were awfully cute – what in their striking uniforms and all – on that first day and thought that we had gotten some pretty cute snaps. What the heck, I thought! and decided to follow the paper’s suggestion. My favorite shot was the one of Ollie and his best bud - red-haired Oscar (see Day sixty seven).

What a surprise yesterday when I received an email from a person on the staff which stated, ‘Hi Deborah. Thanks for the pic, which we plan to use tomorrow. But which school do they attend? regards, Paul,” at which point I decided it was high time I got some parental approval on having the kids’ faces plastered all over the universe. Leah said ‘Sure, why not’ right off, but had yet to contact her friend, Oscar’s mom. Never heard back, so I never did get to tell the paper: Raddlebarn! Honestly, it wasn’t a very thorough investigation on their part – they waited SO late to contact the persons whose photos they were going to use, and then didn’t even follow through to make sure they were getting the children’s names correctly or anything like that. (Check out the inscription.)

One of my main objects in foraging out this morning (amongst the spitting) was to get to a convenience store to see if this picture-in-the-paper thing had all been a dream or what. Grabbed a couple copies of today’s edition of the first Birmingham Mail I could find. (There were a lot of different newspaper publications – l was surprised at how many.) Please see below for what I discovered!

Photos_

1- daybreak o’er the clock tower (oh, for more worthy light-capturing equipment!)

2- the invitation

3&4- wow! one of twelve published, pretty amazing when you consider the hundreds of entries they had to have received; don't know where the shadow between the two boys came from - it is definitely NOT in the original shot (here’s an interesting thing: in looking over the group, Martin remarked that the girl in photo #7 comes from the very same secondary school he attended when he was a kid – he recognized the uniform, especially the tie

5- laughingly erroneous text

 

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT - delight of delights

Awoke to the delightful sound of rain – a good steady rainfall with wind fretting the windows.  Even indulged myself with a nice bowl of muesli - with a potato cake . . . and with Carrington's lime marmalade - whilst still in bed. What a decadent life I live!

Oh, dear, just realized, regrettably, that it is Phil’s first day of class – not so great for him. But then again, maybe it’s just par for the course, as he hails from northern Scotland – just ‘a day in the life,’ as it were.

[The following day the headline from our local newspaper, the Birmingham Mail, read ‘Month’s rain in just 24 hours! Full story: Pages 2 & 3.’ Well, that was almost a true statement, as the article went on to report, “At Winterbourne weather station, near the University of Birmingham, (yeah, that’s me!), 48.6mm of rain fell in 24 hours. The average rainfall for the whole month of September is 59.7mm.” It added that the number of road accidents rocketed from 43 to 69 during the same period. * * * Reports keep rolling in: one described this weather occurrence as the most virulent storms in the past 30 years. There has been extensive flooding in the north of England and Wales, and Scotland.

Speaking of Scotland, my housemate, Phil, the student from Scotland, started his studies in meteorology today. I asked him if there were more males than females in his line of emphasis, and he said, well, actually, no – there are more girls, and the majority of those are in broadcasting, with high hopes of ending up in front of the camera as meteorologists.

Just heard on one of the BBC radio stations that a woman was killed in Kew Gardens, just yesterday, when a branch fell on her. (‘The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew’ takes its name from the southwest London borough in which it is located. This world-famous 300-acres of gardens and botanical glasshouses are the offspring of an internationally important botanical research and education institution. With a staff of 700, it houses the world's largest collection of living plants.) A similar tragedy occurred in a park up Provo Canyon just a few summers back.]

A curious thing about this flooded street I observed a couple days later (see below) was that no sooner had the water abated than the street was awash with workers and hot, fragrant asphalt, and very soon the muddy mess was gone and in its place lay a nice tarmacked road. The interesting thing was the speed with which it had been accomplished – from downpour to fresh pavement. If you had not walked down this path for a couple days, you would not have been aware of what had transpired there. It reminds me entirely of one feature of the events surrounding Milt’s death: spinning out of control, his Porsche had careened into a block wall, the impact of which had stopped his descent, leading to the head injury that resulted in his immediate death. Much later the next day, still in shock, I had ventured out to witness for myself the scene of the crash. I remember being stunned at the pronounced skid marks on the road coming down from the high point that separates Moon Valley from central Phoenix, as he attempted to right his slide. (This had occurred on Seventh Avenue.) But the most amazing aspect of all was when I discovered that the block wall into which the car had collided was now, only a day later, completely repaired – as if nothing had ever happened there. It brought up sharply to me just how very fragile and ethereal one’s life really is – here today, but by tomorrow, utterly whisked away.

Photos_

1- riparian view of a little side street I often walk down on the way into town

2- University of Birmingham playing fields, both with forms of artificial turf, after the downpour (hockey field in the foreground, football (aka soccer) in the drabber green

DAY SEVENTY SEVEN - Timmy time

Met the Ward family by the big roundabout and we headed over to church in Harborne, where we were one of the first in the parking lot. As Martin has his high counselor duties out in the Kidderminster Branch today, he dropped us off and will return to collect us later after the block. I helped Leah set up the Primary room and then headed off to Relief Society on my own. My friend, Pauline, a member of the Relief Society presidency, (who I first became aware of as she was part of the phone conversation catalyst {my connection to Gillian – they both work for the Church in Solihull} that eventually lead me to my very first Singles Convention, in Manchester), gave the lesson centered around President Eyring’s General Conference address, Mountains to Climb. She disclosed intimate details of several of her own life’s struggles, as did others. It was very poignant. At one point she referenced a poem by Rudyard Kipling that suggested a guide for improved critical thinking, and encouraged us to use this format in considering the hows, whys and wherefores of how difficult times have fit into the construction of our own evolving existences:

I keep six honest serving-men

(They taught me all I knew);

Their names are What and Why and When

And How and Where and Who.

We talked about how there seem to be critical periods in our lives, when everything is very comfortable, where perhaps our Father in Heaven sees it as the perfect moment for us to experience change and growth – otherwise known in our minds as afflictions and trials. In such times, the Saviour has promised that angels will be there to bear us up through these trying, burdensome times.

I really like the concept one brother shared in Sunday School, as we discussed the roller-coaster pride and wickedness cycle that was so prevalent among the Nephites prior to the Saviour’s advent. He suggested that Satan’s ‘control’ over us is much like the common cold in that, while we have cold germs around us always, it is only in times when our immune system is down that it can cause us harm. Satan cannot influence us for ill except in instances where our guard is down – when we are choosing to live unrighteously, that he can wheedle his way in. The moral, of course, is that we need always to be vigilant and never let our defenses down.

Can you believe we have two sets of elders AND a set of sister missionaries assigned to our ward alone? Wow, that’s a lot of missionary effort – obviously we are a ripe field! The bishop invited the newest set to come up and introduce themselves. The greener of the pair, from Heidelberg, Germany, was an even cuter version of Archie, than the real David Archuletta himself. (We are to be his first area.) One of the elders from the already-established pair was sitting next to me on the pews (we have cross members separating the rows and he was sitting on the other side of that). He reached over to greet me and shake my hand, at which point he remarked, Man, now that’s a good old Utah handshake! I acknowledged that I had had several of the other variety already that day – which was true (you know, of the limp-noodle ilk).

Probably the most noteworthy thing about sacrament meeting was that soon after the sacrament concluded, I was abandoned on the second row with three active, ADD-talkative, normal children, in their third hour of attempting to sit quietly – and this was the case for the remainder of the meeting. The bishop had asked if his son, Thomas, who is Katya’s same age and her dearest friend (according to her, a future marriage is a definite possibility), could sit with us as his wife, Ann, a member of the stake young women;s presidency, was away. (We also had the privilege of having Thomas to our home for all the afternoon. Lucky us! Lucky Katya!!)  In case you were wondering where Leah had gone, squirmy toddler, baby Ella, was being seen after by her mother for the whole of that period. Well, just picture that – knowing me and my desire for the children around me to please sit quietly and not talk! It was quite the comedy of errors, but that’s okay – because before you knew it, we were singing the closing hymn . . . and we were all still friends.

As church was ending, Sister Wheatley (all the way from faraway Provo, Utah) sat down beside me and asked if I would be willing to sit in on a potential-convert discussion they were having in an adjoining room just then. Sure, seeing as how I’d just be waiting for Martin to come and claim us anyway. The investigator was Fahad, from Kurdistan (which I see, by looking on a world map, is not actually a country at all, {didn’t realize that!} but a combinatin of regions of three different countries – Turkey, Iraq and Iran. He told us that, though born a Muslim, he had not experienced the comfort and life-affirming principles he had found in Christianity – thus the attraction to it, and now “Mormonism.” It was, on my part, and unexpectedly so, a very pleasant and faith-affirming experience (though I must admit a little distressing to me when, at practically the same moment Fahad was expressing the desire to know more about this “Joseph Smith” personage, the Sisters mentioned, as part of the discussion, his upcoming baptism date, that had already been set and was at this point just a few weeks away). It was time for me to leave with the Wards before I had a chance to get that sorted out in my mind.

Dinner, very soon after church, was a fantastic spread of taco fillings with store-bought crunchy or soft tortillas. I made this interesting coleslaw from some already-made, store-bought coleslaw from Sainsbury (way too much mayo, thank you!) that needed embellishing with additional shredded cabbage and carrots. The flavor was the thing – mango and chili. For yum!! It was a perfect complement to the tastes of Mexican fare.

Our afternoon dining, and congeniality, was also enriched by the presence of the Amison sibs. I have mentioned Michael (20) and Timmy (14) before (see last Sunday, day seventy). Timmy has been staying with the Wards for the week as his parents are off on that exciting anniversary holiday to France (oh, that they had taken me with!). Also in the company were brothers, David (18) and Nathan (12). There are six brothers in all – the oldest married and the next younger on a mission. Brother Amison is in the bishopric; Martin served with him before he was released to function as a high counselor. I learned something very interesting in regards to British missionaries, when in conversation it was confirmed that David had recently put in his mission papers – because of British higher education contingencies, young men are allowed to begin their missions at the earlier, than we are used to, age of eighteen.

Of particular note, this very day was Timmy’s birthday. So having now arrived at 15, we sang a very happy birthday to him, ate yummy Leah-made lemon cake, and showered him with a few random gifts. I gave Timmy a spooky pack of ping pong eyeballs (a must-have for any budding teenager, don’t you agree?!), among other trinkets.

[As further regards “Timmys,” look on YouTube for a session of one of my favorite CBeeBies kids’ programs (the BBC equivalent to PBS Kids) called Timmy time. In this show, all the characters (little animals, in this case, kind of like Muppets as babies) speak in their own native tongue – as in moo moo, cluck cluck, baa baa, etc. The star of the hour is Timmy, the diminutive lamb. Baaaaa!]

Photo_

Birthday party cheers- David, Michael, birthday boy TIMMY, honey bee, Daddy Martin with Ella

                                   Nathan, off on a row by himself (kind of where he fits)

                                   Katya, prince Thomas, and Spiderman Oliver - all in the Ward’s living room

DAY SEVENTY SIX - Croome (rhymes with broom) - phantasmagoria

As Leah was bound and determined to get out of the city and into the countryside after a busy week of go-going, we headed for Croome, another National Trust site (http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/croome). The original massive acreage of parkland and country manor house had been owned by the Coventry family since the 16^th century. However, it was the ingenuity of the 6^th Earl of Coventry, at the age of 28, who, having just inherited Croome Court (the residence by itself) and its deer park together with 15,000 acres of Worcestershire, full of ideas on the new movement towards classicism in architecture and landscape design – with more dough than he knew what to do with, obviously – had the vision of turning the estate into the incredible xanadu it was in its heyday. It was his pairing with the now famous Lancelot “Capability” Brown (the grand designer who always saw a garden’s “capabilities”), the first and most well-known landscape artist of the modern world (In fact you could safely say he single-handedly created the art of landscape design, and Croome {the combination of the house and the wider estate as a whole) was his first complete landscape design of note.}, that was the catalyst for what became one of the most colossal renovation projects in all of England – of the original house, plus the dormant, though spectacular, undeveloped woodland. The two set about transforming the Earl’s dominion into an undulating rural idyll, set about with trees and lakes, rolling away to the distant Malvern Hills (where later in 1840, Wilford Woodruff dedicated the land for the teaching of the gospel, having been lead by the Spirit to a field prepared by the Lord , white and ready to be harvested), including completely changing Croome Court into a Palladian-style mansion.  

The extensive park contains a series of follies (structures with no functional reason for existence other than for the intrigue they add to the landscape) that were just beginning to be the architectural must-have for people in the know (and with the disposable income to throw it after): dry arch bridges, punch bowl gates, a man-made lake AND river (a scaled down version of the River Severn), statues and temples, a Greek pavilion and grotto made of coade stone (an artificial type of stoneware created in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, used for moulding Neoclassical statues, architectural decorations and garden ornaments that were both of the highest quality and remain virtually weatherproof today), to name but a few. On the site also stands the Church of St Mary Magdalene, a copy of a medieval structure that had been relocated by Brown to better suit his design, as well as the ruins of a boathouse that was home to rowing boats and a pleasure barge. (Sounds like a real Shangri-La, doesn’t it?!) In the early 19^th century, Croome was home to over 5,000 species of plants and trees from all over the world. Only the famous royal botanical gardens of Kew (see Day seventy eight) had more species. The last of the direct line of Coventry earls was killed in battle during World War II and the expense of maintaining the holdings became prohibitive for the family left behind.

Since then the site has ranged from being a huge, full-fledged Royal Air Force base, with more than 2,500 military personnel, during World War II (that played a vital role in the secret wartime development and testing of top-secret radar systems), a Catholic school for boys, and, before being acquired by the Croome Heritage Trust in 1996, a Hare Krishna community. Through these permutations, the house and grounds had fallen into considerable disrepair – no one could afford its expensive grandeur. The trust has only just begun its renovation plans in the past several years and funding is always a major issue. (It was kind of fun to get a perspective on the different stages heritage sites might potentially pass through, having only seen completed ones to date.) Leah is especially fond of this particular National Trust site because so far the house has no fittings, fixtures or furniture, so she doesn’t have to be afraid of her children behaving like children (you know “accidently” upsetting everything in sight, including that precious Ming dynasty vase – a refreshing change from how it is at pretty much every other site.

The majority of our adventure was spent exploring the extensive parkland. I was particularly intrigued with these massive, eye-catching trees with their mostly horizontal branches, and asked around if anyone knew what kind they were. (No, they didn’t.) I discovered, when looking on the Croome’s webpage later, that they are Cedars of Lebanon – something we’ve all heard about, oft mentioned in the Old Testament. The appearance of this particular tree has always reminded me of what an African savannah looks like. An especially fascinating structure that we discovered upon our walk (amongst so many, it is difficult to single out a particular one) was an intriguing ice house – a curious, restored 18^th century thatched building.

Rambling about was a perfect diversion for mostly city-dwelling children. One fun thing I have found about these sites is that, besides having a gift shop and facilities for outdoor picnicing, there is always a playground for children. Some even have a wonderful seemingly wilderness play area (see below), replete with all kinds of climbing/crawling structures made of rough-sawn wood, plus a collection of standing large trees and cut off branches you can move about to create forts and secluded castles, etc. Very exciting for kids. It was a brisk autumn day, and though the sun was shining brightly, the air was cool. We ate our picnic lunch – in jackets, in the sunshine – on a small island in the middle of the lake, connected to the main park by a series of bridges.

Our day was a wondrous sensory treasure trove: the aroma of mowed lawn and the natural essence of autumn; the texture of the Coade stone that made up the grotto, originally interspersed with semi-precious gems, coral and shells on its walls; a sweet kiss from slobbery, teething Ella; the sound of happy, squealing children and the call of birds overhead and in the trees; enough visual spectacles of an elaborate, vanished-forever way of life to keep our heads spinning for a good long while!

Photos_

  1- panoramic view (the best we can do) – Katya steering Ella

  2- Church of St Mary Magdalene (leaning unnaturally in honeybee’s viewfinder)

  3- inside the Church of St Mary . . .

  4- statue of bygone Countess of Coventry in memorial to lost infant

  5- juxtaposition of Croome Court to the Church of St Mary . . . (in 1500s the original church stood
      next to the house)

  6- Croome Court

  7- titular queens of the Nile (you would assume this was the front of the house, but, in fact, it is
      the rear –  leading into the voluminous acreage of engineered landscaping wonder_ )

  8- cedars of Lebanon in merry old England

  9- regulars to National Trust sites

10- interesting picket technology detail

11- river scene
12- picnicking on an island

DAY SEVENTY FIVE - the good,* the bad,** and the ugly***

My first grey day: I believe this is the very first time, in all the seventy five days I’ve been here in England, where it has rained straight, without ceasing, for the majority of the day. (I know you may find that hard to believe – thinking, but surely it has done that often. If you would have told me this several years back, I would not have believed it either myself. It’s like my experience with Washington: when I pictured what it must be like in that state, I imagined green, green, green and rainy most all the time. When I finally did find myself there, I discovered it was not the case on either count. My vision of the UK’s weather in the past has been one of an environment of constant downpours. Well, not this time around – at least, not so far, anyway. Leah says, oh, just you wait! For one she tells me that during the month of June, before I came, there was a LOT of rain!) But today, even that which we did have was sort of just a very fine mist. Can’t hurt you too much – and besides the air wasn’t too cool either. The worst thing this kind of rain – referred to as “spitting” – can do is make your hair curlier . . . IF you have curly hair – which I do.

This morning I met Leah at a different sort of “school,” also up the hill, this time up Selly Park Avenue. (Man, I live in a logistically convenient spot – and I didn’t even know it when I contracted to reside here. Brilliant!) This was a play group for toddlers and babies at one of the local churches, in this case St Stephens. (You gotta be a St. something or other in order to qualify as a church, don’t you know?! I guess we’ll never make it.) Held in the particular Anglican church where Leah’s good friend, Libby, is the wife of the pastor (good friends because they each have corresponding school-age children who have moved up together through the ranks), it is an awesome concept known as ‘Stay and Play,’ where any child who has not reached school age – as early as four here in England – is invited to participate. (That first public school level is known as Nursery. After that you begin Reception, like our kindergarten, the level Ollie started this year.) There is a minimal fee – to cover toast and apple slices, etc – and the room is all laid out with different toddler activities (kind of like the old-fashioned kindergarten – sort of like back when I was in kindergarten, before they spoiled it by introducing studying and learning to read and all.) Leah had to trick Ella away from the kid-sized, plastic car thing, which she loves above everything else, so she could get some play experience with her peers in! Besides free play, there is a craft, snack and singing time. It takes place every Friday from 10 to 11:30am, and, of course, moms are in attendance – one of the main reasons for having it, don’t you know?!

On my walk up, headed in the direction of St Edwards, on my way to St Stephens, I heard the sound of bag pip music lilting through the air. Must be a funeral, I thought, seeing as how in my experience that is when the pipes are typically heard in our neck of the woods – if it’s not for a festival or something. Perhaps they’ll be buried in the cemetery across from Leah and Martin’s. Actually I disovered it was a wedding when the church came into full view - false alarm! Hopefully the newlyweds won’t be doing any stopping over in Lodge Hill any time soon! (See day sixty-seven for a full view of St Edwards Catholic Church.)

**So I had this random wicked thought: Myfanwy went off by train this morning to Bristol – to visit her daughter, Kate, and her boy, Gus – leaving her car behind, parked in the gAyrage. So I was thinking, what if I snuck it out and took it for a little spin?! Intriguing idea, but not even! The moral issue aside, as I am NOT a teenager, the potential dire consequences of such an action are fixed firmly in my mature mind. Just a crazy passing adolescent fantasy . . . you know, leave me in the house alone and you’ll NEVER be exactly sure what I’ll be up to!

Awhile back I took a risk and purchased this really cool sham from a major department store for a song, because the zipper was broken. I have had experience with fixing zippers before, and though it is not easy, it can be done. I was waiting for just the right moment, knew that I’d forget all everything else when I got engrossed in the challenge. This morning I decided I had waited long enough and went for it. It’s not working, it’s not working, it’s not  . . . and then it does! Hurray, success! I did it – brilliant again!

Another project - dyed my hair. That’s adventure enough, right there! (more of the "one side of what comes out of the faucet scalds you while the other side freezes you" trauma!)

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1- Stay and Play

2- *baby love – Libby’s daughter, Katy, and baby Ella

3- highbrow wedding day at St Edwards (see merrymakers decorating the getaway car on the right)

3- breathtakingly cool Union Jack (now with properly working zipper – and stuffed!) and map (I have photographed my success story here along with my map of England that I bought at BYU some number of years back, took to England, brought back home, have now returned with a second or third time and found a great use for. At Martin’s creative suggestion, I’ve put it up on the wall so I can mark places I’ve been with, what are called, knob pins {to a dressmaker, anyway}. My map is a world traveler!)

4- ***British slug, out looking for dry ground (and you thought you had ugly slugs – check out this baby. Eeoo!)

5- seeing as how we’re into comparisons, here, how about this: 1.5 kg package of Scottish porridge oaks for £1.49 – aka regular, plain, old, ordinary oatmeal, of the non-processed variety; mostly what you find around here is what we would call quick or instant oats – not what I want to use to dilute the yummy muesli I buy - also had for a song

DAY SEVENTY FOUR - noice*

It has been getting fairly cool (downright cold?) in my room as of late. The air outside has been getting consistently more chilly by the day. When I returned from being out for my walk early last evening and opened the door to my room, I noticed immediately a sort of coziness to the atmosphere that I had not felt before – kind of like when the sun streams in through the window and the heat is trapped inside. Hhm, I thought. Then happening by the radiator, I sensed heat and touched it to see if there was some connection. Yes!! Oh, boy, and just in the nick of time to save me. Noice!

Did a wee bit of shopping with Leah in the a.m. She needed to go to the bank and I was intent on ferreting out the crème developer I needed in order to thwart the burgeoning spread of grey in my crazy hair. It was her turn with the car so we headed over to the Northfield Shopping Center, several miles southwest of us in the Northfield area of town. (Speaking of neighborhoods within Birmingham, I have mentioned that I am in the Selly Park section of Selly Oak, as is Leah. Some others include Edgbaston, Highgate, Aston, Handsworth, Harborne (where we go to church), Longbridge, Yardley Wood, Balsall Heath, Acocks Green, Wythall, and Hollywood – to name a few.) Yeah, went to some highbrow shops and picked up some crucial loot – as portrayed in the photos below. (I thought it was funny when we turned into one shop and Leah referred to it as "the plastic shoe store" - ShoeZone - you know, like Payless Shoes that we have back home.

Once when we were walking along the street, between stores, we came across this guy who was collecting for a charity – in this case for single fathers, actually, of all things. I asked him if he was a single father, and he said he was. As always, hearing my accent (me?), he asked if I was American or Canadian, and then from where in the states did I come. When I said Utah, he said, oh, where the Osmonds are from. I knew that Donny and Marie had been really big with members of the church, but hadn’t realized that they were also celebrities among the British population at large. Anyway, he was a lot of fun and we had a good time talking with him. I was waiting for Leah who had popped briefly into a particular store when I saw this “noice” Harley and decided I needed a picture of it. The same man was standing nearby and I asked him if he’d want to be immortalized. Picture his good humor below.

Got to know Phil - as opposed to Philip - the younger a little more today. He is from Carnoustie (the “ou” sounds like it does in the word “should,” with the accent on the first syllable), way up on the eastern seaboard, across from Dundee. His mum is a secondary school teacher of classics, Latin and Greek, and her work is in a place called Dollar, that takes 95 minutes to get there – and that’s just one way! Guestimations are that Dollar derives its name from Doilleir, an Irish and Scots Gaelic word meaning dark and gloomy, or from various words in Pictish: 'Dol' (field) + 'Ar' (arable) or Dol (valley) + Ar (high). Another thought is that it comes from Dolar, ‘haugh place’ (cf Welsh dôl ‘meadow’). The major attraction in town is the five hundred year-old Castle Campbell, lowland seat of the Duke of Argyll, where Mary, Queen of Scots, once lived in the 16th century.

It is well  past midnight and I can hear quite distinctly, coming through my closed windows, the bass vibration of dance music as well as the rise and fall of a passel of voices. Students have been amassing all week to begin their university studies on Monday. I suppose for new students, orientation sessions have also been in the works. Tonight there’s a lively shindig being raged somewhere up on campus; the celebration continues . . . as for me and my house, we're for bed.



* That’s Brummie (Brumeze?) talk for “nice.”  Brum is the affectionate slang term for Birmingham. Brummie is the characteristic twang/dialect of died-in-the-wool Birminghamites.

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1- hoity-toity establishment (equivalent to MacFrugals)

2- booty

3- a character (Leah said, Debbie, you could have gotten yourself a date. You know, I never even thought of that. He was a nice guy - too bad. Neither of us were fast enough on our feet.)

DAY SEVENTY THREE - creatures of the feather variety, amongst others

Walked over to The MAC in the late afternoon – Midlands Arts Center. It’s my favorite place to find out what’s happening in the arts scene in the greater Birmingham area. They always have lots of brochures, and I often come across things I’d like to go and see. They have both theatrical productions and international, as well as current release, films (the concession price – that’s for older persons, like me – is £5). Not bad. (Next week Leah and I are going there to see Anna Karenina with Keira Knightley, Jude Law and Kelly MacDonald.) For example, their highlighted pick for the month of September is Searching for Sugar Man, winner of the Special Jury Prize at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. (I come 4154 nautical miles/7698.2 kilometers/4783.5 miles from home and what do I find? A screening of a film I hosted up the canyon last January – right here, in my own backyard. How crazy is that?!)

Saw quite a few squeerels scrambling about, stuffing their cheeks with chestnuts. Must be Fall – though leaves have yet to get the message. I also spied some perky little baby moorhens swimming frantically through the water towards their parent. For cute . . . but wait! Isn’t it only in the spring when baby birds make their appearance? I’m so confused.

Thought you’d appreciate a little update on the bird watching I’ve been able to do, seeing as how I am such an avid birder, having brought my binocs along with me all this way and all. Well, let’s see, I’ve seen a lot of crows, magpies, mourning doves and pigeons (known affectionately as “rats of the sky”). See them right outside my window, every day. That’s it basically. Oh, yeah, a couple others I forgot – Canada geese and several varieties of ducks, coots, and grebes when I’m near a park.

[Now here’s something ironic for you: Just now, having written this, I went down to the laundry room where the lodgers’ frig is and who should walk in and greet me but Philip Sr. We have really only spoken once, just briefly, but this time we chatted congenially for several minutes. I discovered for one thing that he has a family of two boys, 7 and 10, back in Cambridge. Also of interest is that when I told him that I hailed from Utah, what that brought to his mind – resurrected from when he was a kid, he admitted – was an image of the Bonneville Salt Flats and speed racers. Funny, huh? Whereas the younger Phil had not heard of Brigham Young University, Philip the professor definitely had. But here’s the rub – in our conversation somehow we got around to the subject of birds (don’t ask me how THAT happened!) and Philip said that just this morning he had seen a stork, standing in the middle of the lawn, in the back garden (you know that photo from yesterday?!). OUR back garden! What?!! And here I was telling you about how there is nothing interesting to see by way of birds, and this sneaky creature goes and makes his appearance – right in my own backyard, and right when I’m not watching. For the love!]

*Correction: Myfanwy tells me that, actually, it is NOT a stork but rather a blue heron, and that it sits in the tallest tree, an oak, in our mutual back garden and peers down into her neighbor's small littlepool - waiting for . . . the random fish? Obviously she has extensive experience with this particular heron.

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1- the mac (not talkin’ McDonalds here!)

2- the ever elusive squeerel (believe it or not, for the speed of a squirrel, and the inefficiency of my dumb little digital, I was lucky to get this at all, as poor as it is!)

3- quack

DAY SEVENTY TWO - Rapunzel's mother's garden

Chose another uneventful day in. It’s good. I like to sit in my room and look out across the back landscape green and listen to the wind whistling through my windows. What appears to be one enormous yard is really the long rectangular gardens of several individual homeowners, separated by bushes and walls and hedges and trees - thus the expansive appearance. It has given me a whole new appreciation and vision of the story of Rapunzel when, in her pregnant cravings, the young wife looks out into the witch’s garden, spies the radishes, and begins to covet them – kind of like what Brother Holcombe was warning us about how a seemingly insignificant desire to get gain (radishes), in the wrong way (coveting and eventually stealing), can lead to dire consequences that were never been anticipated in the first place (loss of one beautiful girl baby with enormous eyes and a plethora of hair!). I never before could picture how that worked because in my world you can not easily see over the fence into your neighbor’s yard.

Had me some British cottage cheese today for the first time. It was very much like the real stuff – like when you separate curds from the whey, and end up with a product more like an actual cousin to cheese then what is produced back home. Really good (naturally – seeming as how it, no doubt, like the majority of dairy products here, is probably made from whole milk).

[School note from the Ward family: yesterday was the first expanded day in this term, when Katya and Oliver went not only to their regular school, but also to child care prior to and following their usual school day, known as Kool Kid Klub. (KKK! What are they teaching those kids there in that daycare anyways?!) It is at the same facility where Ella is cared for. Workers from the center walk school-age children to and from school, which is up the street on Raddlebarn Road, just a couple blocks away.  According to Leah, Ollie told her that he didn't want to go to so much school and would prefer to stay home.  Her response was pretty much, “tough!” Quoting Leah: he accepted it, and said he would just get smarter, so that was okay, too.

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view from my window – you are looking at three gardens: mine is the far right of which you see just a spec, then there is my neighbor to the left of that {you can see him there in black, spends an inordinate amount of time in his yard, as you can see}; and then another neighbor’s to the far left – all separated by plantings and block walls, longitudinally. Just look at all those different shades of green.

DAY SEVENTY ONE - going, going . . . . . almost gone

Not really any adventures to report today (Whew, I practically need a breather from all my adventures. Can’t believe I’m saying that!), except that I’ve been living on my own for one month now. Hurray! Did go out to the bank, however, to get me some money (You know how it works, right kids? You go to the bank, you stand in front of the nice person behind the glass, and then they just hand it over. As simple as that!) so I could cough over my rental payment that’s due today. Oh, man, that’s the one time when the difference in the value of money, between the dollar and the pound, REALLY stings. Ouch!

Finally met Phil(ip) the younger today. (He arrived this weekend when I was off to Wales.) He is young graduate student who is helping to fill out the house by settling in as the final lodger – in the last available room, living below me on the 2^nd (or would it be 1^st, seeing as how this IS England and all?) floor. (Just checked with Phil who is in the kitchen washing up {like my host in Grimsby, he also does NOT rinse his dishes when he washes them. Ooee, straight out of the soapy water onto the drain board.} and he informed me, no equivocating, his room is on the 1^st floor. Heck, you know what that means, don’t you?! It establishes that I only live on the 2^nd floor – and that doesn’t sound half as magical as the 3^rd!)

Anyway . . . Phil; he comes from Scotland, but unlike any other Scot I’ve EVER known (yeah, like I have VAST experience in this area) – you know, like Sean Connery, for instance – does NOT have a romantic Scottish twang. In fact, there is pretty much nothing romantic about Phil altogether. I knew that he was beginning his upper level studies, so I assumed he would be a little older – twenty-two, he reported. Somehow that seems just SO young to be starting  graduate work, but I suppose, since we are used to graduate students in our Mormon world being several years more mature for a number of reasons, I suppose the early twenties is the usual age to complete an undergraduate degree in the regular, outside world of men. Here – this will help you form a good picture in your mind when I say that Phil studied mathematics as an undergraduate, and now is delving into the intricacies of meteorology. Enough said? Get the picture? (Actually, I’m quite excited about that. Weather! Now we’re talkin'!!)

Likewise, yesterday evening, the senior of the two Philips also arrived at the house, back to inhabit his hobbit room in the hallway next to mine. (We are ALL here, yes! I am very happy not to be “on stage” like I have kind of felt somewhat, what with only me and Myfanwy rattling about in 94 Oakfield Road.)  It is as teeny as teeny, but . . . it DOES have a sink! Philip, the professor of the two, is in Birmingham during the week, leaves each morning early and is gone till later into the evening. In a usual week I first get wind of him on a Tuesday evening and he is gone again by the time classes end on Friday, at which time he hightails it out of here, back on home to his family in Cambridge. That’s three night – suits me just fine.

[We lodgers are in charge of seeing about our own bathroom. You know who that leaves for latrine duty, don't you? because you know they won't be doing it!]

Our autumn continues to be very blustery. (Did you know that “wind is what you feel when different temperatures of air are in motion?!” I like that simple definition. Philip the younger did NOT tell that to me.) I have the kind of windows where blowing wind makes that sort of howling sound. I like that, too. Definitely had to wear a jacket out on my jaunt today. It was in the upper fifties, will drop down into the 40s during the wee hours. Autumn is here; leaves are slowly turning – not dramatic changes like in Utah, so far. We’ll see what the rest of the season brings. I’ll let you know.

Seeing as the concept of flowers will soon come to an abrupt end, in honor of the passing of summer I thought I’d share some of the beautiful blossoms I have been collecting – on film (well, actually, I guess I mean on disc). Sorry, but I’m not going to try and name them – (‘cause I don’t know what they are!).

Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,

For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,

And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,

And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast;

She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting of her hair,

And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;

I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,

And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.

The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May,

The merry BEE is trampling the pinky threads all day,

And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest

In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover's breast;

I'll lean upon her breast and I'll whisper in her ear

That I cannot get a wink o'sleep for thinking of my dear;

I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away

Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.

                                                                                                    John Claire – Summer

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1- now that’s what I like to see - nobody home . . . but me! (The first day Jesse brought me to the house where I would eventually live, he showed us how everyone in the house had a card that indicated if they were in or not. Of course, at that point, having no idea what that was all about, I thought, well, that's dumb! Now that I live here and understand how the security alarm system works, it all makes sense. The last one to leave is always responsible to turn on the alarm, while the first one in or down (as the case is in the morning) is responsible for turning it off. The cards make it possible to know one's staus at a glance. Also on that first exploratory day with Jesse, there was a lodger living here whose name was Hay-soos, or more exactly, Jesus. We tried very hard not to be sacrilegious and guffaw over the sight of "Jesus In" and "Jesus Out.")

2- now that's a hanging basket!

3-7- formal beds in parks and at public facilities. Thanksgiving Point Gardens, you’ve got nothing on these splashes of color . . . and besides that, they’re free, for all to see! (I’m definitely signing up to renew my membership!)

8-11- domestic loveliness (move over, Howard!)