By Alne & Arrow

When does spring, spring into life?
Sometime in March, I would normally anticipate.
This year, however, things are a little different
and our weather is unseasonably warm..

Saturday mornings sunshine tempted me outside with my coffee.
The sun was warm
The air less so.
I checked the temperature on my phone.
"Eleven degrees at 11 O'clock! Brrrr!"
I sipped my coffee
whilst observing the antics of the squirrels and birds,
before retreating back indoors,
satisfied that I have drunk my first 'al fresco' coffee of 2019.

Shortly afterwards we depart for an afternoon of ringing.
In an unusual sort of sandwich,
we pick up one passenger,
stop off at the parish church to pop sandwiches in the fridge,
before collecting our second passenger
and heading east.

We ventured across the county boundary into Warwickshire.
The village of Henley in Arden is not content with having one parish church, it has two!
Both now have a ring of bells.
The churches were originally twin parishes
and are located a mere 100 yards apart,
separated by the 'mighty' River Alne.

We began by ringing at St. John's on the High Street. On a sunny Saturday, there was a mixture of tourists and locals wandering about
soon to have their peaceful meandering disturbed by some heavy metal tintinnabulation.

Next we wandered down the lane at the side of St John's to the older Beaudesert church -
where three "hopelessly"unringable bells
have been augmented by bells
that were surplus to requirements elsewhere,
resulting in a delightful light six.

Inside the church was cool,
despite the warmth
provided by a large cast iron radiator,
that posed an ongoing threat
to the elbows of long-armed
or unwary ringers of the 2nd.
Each piece of ringing was proceeded by the warning
"Mind the radiator!"

A bench in the sunshine proved to be a popular spot,
where a sneaky picnic could be consumed,
or the wisdom of Jacqueline Wilson digested.

We left the band ringing the final piece of ringing and headed back to the ice cream shop,
for which Henley is renown.
Despite the fact it was only February, the queue stretched out the door,
but we didn't mind a short wait.
DH was delighted to discover that he had a choice between dairy-free vanilla
or a selection of sorbets. He opted for Cranberry.

Next stop was Studley parish church, on the banks of the Arrow.
It was good to see the ringing chamber crammed full of ringers from towers around south Worcestershire.

As we were hosting the tea at Ipsley, we made a sharp exit.
While we waited for DH to extract himself from the tower,
I chatted to the Ringing Master about the first two rings of bells,
"Great bells, both good choices" was his verdict
"...and great ice cream!" I added
"I didn't get any ice cream! I didn't think about it!' he confessed.
"Why else would you go to Henley...?" I replied with a smile
"I wondered why you were a bit late at arriving at Studley..."
DH appeared,  and we departed to put the kettle on at Ipsley,
located further up the Arrow.
It was a great day.
The weather was wonderful.
There was a good turnout.
Lots of learners came and had a ring on four very different sets of bells.
I successfully rang Cambridge Minor at Henley and Cambridge Major at Studley,
so I was well pleased, as I don't often get to ring these methods.

Afterwards, I reflected
"Wasn't it kind of them to all roll up to help celebrate DH's birthday, 
AND to bring so many varieties of cake. 
Pity he couldn't eat any of them! 
Still he did go prepared with his own selection of food - guaranteed to keep him irritation-free.
A day to remember!"

Every Little Helps!

Fridays dawned murky and mysterious.

The exciting task of hoovering the ringing chamber carpet was on the agenda for the evening. The next day we were hosting the local branch of our local bellringing association. We had noted at our previous practice that the carpet was in urgent need of vacuuming. This restricted our adventures, as we needed to be back before 5pm, as we would be fitting in the hoovering before our ringing.

After much deliberation we decided that we would head off to Broadway - a place we rarely visit, as it not big enough to be a town, and so has none of the advantages of one.

The excuse for our visit was that we were looking for a picture to hang in the kitchen.
In reality, if the perfect picture was found in Broadway it would be way too expensive,
as shops in the Cotswolds seem to charge a premium for their wares,
relying on tourists being tempted and willing to pay over the odds.
Still, it was a good excuse to wander around the shops.
I stock up with a good supply of birthday cards that appealed to my sense of humour.
I do hope the recipients share my taste...
I also managed to purchase a birthday present for G1.
Unfortunately, her birthday isn't until July.
Let's hope I can still find it in five months time!

We examined the menu of each and every food establishment we passed.
Finding a place doing light lunches in this honey-stoned hotspot is not easy.
They would rather provide a banquet  - and charge you accordingly!
We just required a simple lunch.
One course.
Nothing too fancy.
Eventually, we found a small cafe that seemed to meet our humble requirements.
A cheese scone was my request.
I asked if it was served warm.
"All our scones are served warm." was the reply.
Yes, it was warm, but warm-from -having-been-cooked-a-while-ago, rather than the heated-up-and-butter-meltingly-warm I was anticipating.
At least it wasn't cold.
Scones serve cold can be rather dry and unforgiving.

In view of the sunshine, we decided to head off to Broadway Tower.
We returned to the car park to discover car chaos.
Vehicles jostled for any available space,
with the ensuing queue stretching on to the access road
and making it difficult for vehicles to leave
to free up spaces for the vehicles who wished to park.
Some lucky person speedily snapped up the space we vacated.

Broadway Tower was overrun.
The car park was full and additional cars parked on the surrounding verges.
We didn't linger,
but decided to bring the KHT back on a quieter day,
when the visibility would be better.
Today a swathe of cloud hung over the Vale of Evesham.
The Malverns were nowhere to be seen, shrouded in mystery.

We drove on until we had to decide between Morton-in-Marsh or Stow on the Wold.
We opted for Stow.
Every space in the square was occupied.
The car park was also full, so was the additional parking.
We ended up at Tesco, where surprisingly their appeared to be no limit on how long we could stay, but we were only planning a short visit.
We toured several shops and I found an excellent birthday card for DH.
We popped into Tesco before we left.
I bought some flowers and the KHT chose some noodles.
The cashier advised us that there was no limit on how long we could park, which was a relief.
No excess parking fine would cause recriminations and regret.
This could become our parking place of choice for Stow!
Handy for popping in for some shopping on our way back.
Every little helps!

Without too many tears or protestations...

On Wednesday of half-term, we decided to go with all six grandchildren,
and assorted other relatives, to celebrate DH's forthcoming landmark birthday.
In order to accommodate this, a table for twelve was booked at a local hostelry,
selected primarily because it wasn't too far away,
and secondly, because it was a carvery - which met DH's restricted dietary requirements.

The KHT and I walked halfway,
whilst DH went back to collect some more of the party.
The plan was that we would all end up at the pub at roughly the same time.
It SHOULD have worked,
but it didn't quite...
As a result, the KHT and I found ourselves with the unexpected luxury of a table with twelve places,
for just the two of us.
Eventually, they all managed to arrive safely,
pass the play area without too many tears or protestations and took their seats,
again without too many tears or protestations.
If you are detecting a theme here, you may well be right.

The menus were perused,
but when you are four and yet to master the art of reading it may as well be in a foreign language!
When informed of her options G5 quickly made her selection.
Once everyone had made their choices - without too many tears or protestations  - we could order our food.

Grandad by G5 (aged 4)

Expecting six grandchildren to sit quietly at a table while a meal was consumed, was an ambitious plan,
so I went prepared with little notebooks,
packs of pencils and multicoloured biros.
For the most part, the notebooks did a good job of keeping them settled -  without too many tears or protestations.
A couple of them drew portraits of Grandad to mark the auspicious occasion...

However, G4 (aged 6) and G5 (aged 4) were very taken with the soft toy grabber machine just to the left of the KHT in the top photo.
One family spent quite a bit of money and time trying to extract an inferior soft toy and failing.
Each time, hope sprang eternal, and they were convinced they would win.
Each time reality was victorious over hope, and even if they managed to get hold of a toy, somehow the grabber would not live up to its name and the toy would slip from its grasp.
Each time they attempted to win a toy,  G4 (aged 6) and G5 (aged 4) magically appeared with noses pressed against the glass,
watching every move,
convinced that this WOULD be the time that the toy would be won,
and watched with disbelief as once again they failed.
The rest of us watched on,
knowing their chance of success would be slim, as you can see from this link,
and wondered why they hadn't just popped over the road to Lidl
 bought something for their daughter and saved a lot of money.

The smell of burning permeated the restaurant.
"They are cooking our pizzas!" announced Terry,
sniffing the slightly acrid aroma that was wafting around the restaurant.
A few minutes later a buzzer summons our table to collect our 'cooked to order food',
which somehow ended up being one more meal than children present - but what is a few extra nuggets between cousins?
Not being a fan of chips the KHT made a selection from the salad bar...

DH and I went and joined a short queue for carvery.
We do enjoy a good carvery,
especially as it is one of the few meals DH knows he can eat without side effects.
The staff are usually only too happy to make him a little jug of gluten-free gravy.
He just needs to avoid certain foods like carrots,
as he is aware that carotene is a known trigger of itches.

G4 (aged 6) and G5 (aged 4) failed to persuade anyone from our party to put money in the greedy grabber,
but they did get the chance to go outside on the play area after the main course.

After consuming a whole pizza and her plate of salad the KHT was replete,
so elder daughter took her token and filled a bowl with ice cream,
sharing some spoonfuls with a rather surprised but happy G6.
His face was a picture.
Each and every mouthful was much colder than he anticipated!

Unfortunately, there was nothing on the menu that DH could order.
This resulted in some members of the family grasping the restrictions he is under
"So no gluten, no dairy.."
"No black pepper - we think"
"No egg."
"No carotene"
"Gosh, you used to love your cheese sandwiches! You lived on those!"

Finally, the children were strapped into car seats and taken home to dream of bowls of super-whipped ice cream.
Three of us walked home, taking a meandering route over footbridges,
and through estates to show elder daughter the new community orchard.
However, as her sense of geography isn't that great
by the time she finds her way back she may well be a granny gobbling up the Granny Smiths.' (Don't pout, dear, you can be a granny in your 30's...)




O

Planting and Protesting

It is not every day you get to plant a tree, or even more significantly take part in the creation of a community orchard, but that was the surprising way our weekend began.

Fortunately, the morning selected for 'The Big Dig', was a bright and sunny Saturday morning at the start of half-term.

We arrived in the nearby parking area to see a procession from the local community

walking up towards the site, 

carrying a hotchpotch of spades, forks and trowels.

The organisers had made careful preparations and marked each place where a tree was to be positioned with an orange cross.

DH, being colour blind, had difficulty identifying the precise spot we were to dig. Orange paint on green grass was not the best colour combination for him, but we managed to convince him that we located the right spot and we set to work.

First, we needed to dig a hole 1ft by 1ft by 1ft - I don't think we will ever be completely metric - and we enquired of the-man-with-the-plan what particular tree was allocated for this spot.

"Tree no 1 - 'Tydeman's Early Worcester" was the pronouncement.

We examine the stock for the specified sapling.

The KHT attempted to hammer a stake into the ground, without a great deal of success.

DH gave the post a few hearty wacks, 

sufficient to hold the support firmly in place until the tree is established.

Then we carefully placed the tree in the hole, bud towards the sun as directed 

added squirrel-proofing and a tie.

"Easy peasy!" - says she who helped hold one tree and then wandered off to pick the brains of one of the very helpful local councillors, whilst DH and the KHT finished the first and then planted a second tree -  Kidd's Orange Red to be precise. 

To the best of my knowledge, no gentlemen with bowler hats were harmed during the digging or filling in of any of the holes

By now the orchard was taking shape. We left the tree planters munching on bacon sandwiches, provided by a local pub. Meanwhile, we are all hoping that the orchard is sufficiently off the beaten track so as not to attract vandalism, but close enough to housing, so that locals will keep a protective eye on the saplings.

Later a pronouncement was made.

"I see someone has planted a Russian flag on the scaffolding at Salisbury Cathedral."

I smiled. 

"Who thought that up?," I wondered to myself...

 "It was removed by the Cathedral authorities once it was brought to their attention."

I had visions of a cassocked Dean clambering up ladders and along planks to retrieve the offending article.

"Why would anyone want to do that?" enquired a mystified DH.

It is NOT a good idea to laugh while drinking a coffee. Cue frantic swabbing of my computer keyboard before any liquid could permeate to the roots of the keys.

Hopefully, the trees will last longer than the flag...

Shropshire Shenanigans

A beautiful day was forecast.
The KHT had already begun her half-term holiday,
so we decided to head off to visit the British Ironworks Centre near Oswestry.
Last time we visited was during the monsoon season,
so we thought it would be good to see the place on a somewhat drier day.

We pootled off up the motorway,
through the 30mph roadworks
on the Oldbury Viaduct
and onwards, through the sunkissed Shropshire countryside,
admiring the fresh greenness of the fields,
the different hues of the skeletal structures of trees
whilst observing with wonder the diminutive dimensions of the lambs,
who raced around their kingdoms
with no thought of tomorrow.

Finally, we turned off the A5
onto the access road to the Ironworks Centre.
If you like weird and wonderful, then this is a place you must visit,
where you can pose beneath massive spider sculptures

and admire everything metal.
Unfortunately, some of the sculptures were out of bounds due to the state of the ground,
so we admired them from a behind the temporary barrier.

I must admit that I find the place vaguely disturbing.
It's not just the oversized sculptures,
slightly bizarre as they are.
It is the piped music unsettles me,
making me feel as if I am trapped in some strangely spooky social experiment.
Maybe we were!
We had to escape some way into the grounds
in order to retreat beyond the strains of the strange songs that serenaded us.
R - I can hear birds.
KHT - I can hear the lambs!
Me - I can hear the A5...
Even in the middle of the countryside
silence eluded us,
whilst the weird and wonderful continued to surprise us -
like this gorilla,
painted in a most unnatural hue.
Surely this is not a Shropshire Blue - cheesy as that would be!
R - Look at the hatch on its stomach.
KHT - Oooh yes!
Me - That is where the babies come out...
Certain of the other animals were definitely male so it could be a convenient location for a biology field trip, with cafe and toilets close by...


If you have small children you could probably while away several hours admiring the wacky wonders of the shop,
exploring the sculpture-strewn grounds,
and excavating the sandpit.
As we were unencumbered by small people
(other than the KHT),
we resisted the tempting charms of the sand,
in case we got ejected!
We moved on to the nearby market town of Oswestry - a place I have wanted to visit for some time.
It did not disappoint and we could happily have lingered longer,
meandering along sunny streets and narrow alleyways,
with names that betrayed the close proximity of the Welsh border,
whilst admiring architecture - both ancient and modern.
There were some glorious half-timbered buildings, a grand town hall and modern marketplace.

A cafe-deli was awarded our custom, as we figured that a deli would serve good food.
We were directed through to the very back of the shop and one of the last available tables, which were crammed quite close together. However, shortly after we arrived, most of our fellow diners finished eating and departed, as by now it was after 1pm.
The only window was high up, but we were there to eat, not admire the view.
Our explorations were limited by time constraints and we could easily have lingered longer.
There were many shops we didn't visit, but we did enjoy exploring the narrow alleyways and admiring the weird sculptures that festooned the frontages of some establishments.
We climbed Castle Mount to get a better idea of the topography, the low sun dazzles our eyes, as we feasted our eyes on the rolling landscape that embraced the town.

After the Afternoon Tea Service yesterday I was keen to visit some charity shops in search of additional tea sets.
We try and seat six around a table, so I was on the lookout for sets with six cups, saucers and tea plates per design. Sugar bowls, milk jugs, and large plates are a bonus,
but not essential.
I have acquired some crock teapots,
but leaving them on tables would require risk assessments and health and safety warnings.
Instead, the team take around teapots, filling up cups as required.
It seems to work.

One shop had four place settings for under £5 - my sort of prices, but not a sufficient for a table,
so I resisted.
Another shop had a set that would have matched some of our existing tableware, but came with a coffee pot and was more than I was looking to pay. Again, I resisted temptation.
However, the next shop had a set with six place settings.
I was a bit dubious, as one cup had quite a bit of red pen marking on it.
We tested with a tissue and it looked as if it would come off.
At £4.50 it seemed a good enough bargain.
The assistant gathered up the items and took them away to wrap them.
Then one of them came back to us.
"Did you realise that the tea set is £44.50?"
"Erm, no! At that price, we won't be using THAT for serving afternoon tea!"
"Why is it so expensive?"
"Its Royal Doulton"
"It's a good job you hadn't wrapped it all up before we found out!" I observed.
The staff admitted the pricing was not clear. If you can make a 44.50 look like £4.50  maybe you should consider printing your prices.
We were just amazed that an item of such value was languishing on an open shelf, where anyone could have taken, or accidentally broken, part of the set, thus significantly reducing its value.
I purchased a more modestly priced necklace and we headed back to the car.
There will be other sets in other towns that will be perfect for what we want, at less than 'Royal Doulton' prices!

Our Shropshire shenanigans complete -  for today anyway, we returned along a much slower moving Oldbury Viaduct, admiring the ever-changing hues and silhouettes of an urban sunset.

Famous Last Words

This afternoon we had been to our monthly Afternoon Tea Service.
By the time we had hoovered, stacked the dishwasher with the first load and put the furniture back ready for the service on Sunday, the light was fading from the blue-gold sky.
DH made do with yet another sandwich, as he.was rushing off to music rehearsal.
The KHT decided to cook herself a pizza.
She got one half of a twin-pack out the freezer.
The instructions were attached to the other one.
"You don't need the instructions," said I, rashly.
"Just watch it, you will know when it is done."
Famous last words.

Then I glanced at the pizza.
"I think you had better take it out of its plastic wrapping, though before you put it in the oven..." and she did.
Having placed her tea in the oven, the KHT positioned herself on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, so that she could keep an eye on it.

The KHT likes mini pizzas that she knows she can easily consume. They usually take less than eight minutes to cook.
Twenty minutes later and the cheese is showing no sign of melting!
The temperature is high enough, but she has set the oven to the defrost setting instead of fan oven.
I am not quite sure why an oven needs a defrost setting - isn't that the function of a microwave?
I change the setting and the pizza finally starts to cook.

We rescue the pizza, as the KHT puts it, " just before it explodes!" which was nothing more dramatic than the cheese topping bubbling.
Upon removing it from the oven I observe the cardboard disk is still under the base...

Meanwhile, I opt for a Spanish omelette. However, my contents to egg mix ratio is too ambitious. When I attempt to flip the omelette over to ensure it is completely cooked, it disintegrates, cascading a mush of egg, cheese and potato across the hob.

Having consumed her pizza the KHTdedicates the next ten minutes to opening a tin of tuna to go in her sandwich.

Later the KHT discovers me in the bathroom, handwashing a cardi.
"Do you think I could become a top chef?" she enquires.
Before I can say a word, my watch answers for me
'"Oh, I don't think so."
Famous last words, Siri...

Mankind may be enjoying the era of post-truth, but artificial intelligence is sticking to the real thing.

Twee Will Do For Me

I came across a quotation today that I do not remember seeing before.
It struck a chord within me,
a resonance of truth with the clarity of a 40cwt bell
that I could not deny.

However,  the wording is recognised as 'inspirational',
crying out to be superimposed upon a background of a mighty ocean.
I duly obliged,
utilising a lesser-known corner of Devon...



Living in the landlocked Midlands,
I lose sight of the sea,
forget about the endlessness and power of its watery vastness.
I can become totally focused on the mundane and immediate.
As a consequence, the immensity of God becomes blurred and unrecognisable,
lying beyond the limitations of my myopic vision.


I need to be reminded not to be so engrossed in achieving short term goals,
that I exclude the creator of the materials I plan to use.
and the immenseness of his grace.

Dismiss it as trite if you wish,
and continue to worry about your next recruitment campaign.
Meanwhile, something much more important stirs the soul,
and there is
nothing
trite
about
that.

Locating The Lost.

Wednesday morning was 'Take Your Compost Bin to School' day,
as we were doing the Story of The Prodigal Son in Open the Book at a local school.

DH was the younger son.
In one scene he had six piglets as company.
To the children's disgust,
he picked up a banana skin
and briefly appeared to consider devouring it, before coming to his senses
and returning home to a delighted Father,
and not-so-delighted older bro.



As it was a sunny afternoon, DH wandered over to his nearby allotment to continue Operation Hedge Trimming along the boundary of his section, as it had almost reached the height of the lampost on the adjacent pathway.


I had been pottering, doing various chores, and had just settled down with a cup of coffee, when my phone rang.
"I've lost my glasses."
"When did you last have them?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? "
"I have had them since I arrived on the allotment. 
They must have come off somewhere...
but I don't know when...
or where!"










I abandon my coffee and go round to the allotment.
On the way I check the ground, just in case he accidentally dropped them on the way.
Alas, no sign of the glasses.

Upon arriving at the allotment I cast my eyes over the significant length of hedgerow,
with freshly trimmed branches woven into it.
My heart sinks.

We look in the sheds,
the polytunnel,
the flower pots.
We check the flower beds.
No sign of the glasses.

I look again at the hedging and begrudgingly accept the fact that the glasses are in there.
Somewhere.

I think longingly of my coffee.
I look up and down the hedgerow
"It is a pity I didn't bring any gloves..."
DH finds me a pair of gloves.
We take up starting positions at opposite ends of the hedge and begin to search.

I start by removing armfuls of cuttings,
getting attacked by the disgruntled branches, outraged at being disturbed.
"This is like searching for a needle in a haystack 
and has about as much chance of success!" 
I grumble to myself.
All I am doing is undoing DH's good work.
I need a different strategy

I pray
and move a couple of feet along the hedgerow.

This time I do not move anything.
I just stare intently at the mesh of slender interlocking twigs.
As I focus, I suddenly notice something unexpected
"Want a pair of glasses?" 
I ask my husband
DH immediately stops searching and turns and looks at me.
"You mean you have found them?" 
he asks incredulously.
"Well, I have found a pair of glasses.
I assume they are yours..."
I take a photo for posterity before he has the chance to retrieve them.
DH picks them up his errant glasses,
gives them a polish
and puts them back on
before they can go missing again.
Meanwhile, I am just wondering how he didn't know they had fallen off
the very moment he lost them.

We rebuild the hedge and go home.
As a reward for finding the glasses, DH made me a fresh cup of coffee.
A lost son, and a lost pair of glasses.
What next, I wondered?