My week

Caddie, May 2022

A couple of portraits of the lovely Caddie in this post, to keep you going because I'm just about to head off on another retreat, this time for two whole weeks. A fortnight offline, no phone or Internet, and I'm ready for it. There's been altogether too much going on (entirely my own fault) so the opportunity of a break is very welcome.

The Queen is dead, long live the King. I found out on the way to badminton, where we didn't cancel the session out of respect - I'm sure the Queen wouldn't have minded badminton, or football, or any of the other events that didn't happen. The England National Bowling championship, however, must have felt a lot of respect because they cancelled their final weekend of competition. In previous years the security level at the end of the road felt a little intrusive, but the bored security man (who couldn't quite be bothered to get up to move the cones but reached out from his chair) felt very low key indeed after the armed police at the Commonwealth Games. I'm glad to be on retreat when the funeral happens, and hope that everything will be very much back to normal when I get back, not that normal is particularly satisfactory in the current UK society and politics.

Lola II and Martin are about to take off for a big adventure in the Far East, and I went to stay with them for the weekend before they went. We were mostly doing things outside because they want to minimise the chances of catching Covid, but we did lots of lovely walking, some of it with Lola II's new dogfriend Reggie. On Saturday while Lola II went swimming I had the opportunity to visit the site of the Grenfell Tower fire. We ate at the Portobello market, visited the passport office in Victoria, walked from Kew to Richmond and back, and watched one of the films on my list.

Lola II and Mr M are very accommodating when it comes to films on my list.  I compile the list from reading and listening to reviews, particularly by Kermode and Mayo, but it's often difficult to tell exactly what you're going to get. There have been some wonderful ones, but more than once they have sat through some very 'interesting' offerings - 'Tale of Tales', 'The Worst Person in the World' and 'The Dog Who Wouldn't Be Quiet' spring to mind immediately. Memorable, but not in a good way. This time it was 'Everything Everywhere All at Once' and we're still not sure what was going on half of the time. A world where humans have evolved with frankfurters for fingers, the need to swap right and left shoes, and why did he have to give himself paper cuts? All very strange.

Anyway, that was the weekend, then all three of us went over to see mum and dad on Monday and did various jobs including swapping tables in kitchen and dining room, more research into mobility scooters and garage doors, introducing mum to the website where she'll be able to track Lola II's and Mr M's progress around the world, gardening, and photographing mum playing her button accordion because I'd met someone at Shrewsbury Folk Festival who was interested in buying it. I met him on Wednesday and handed it over, but he says "Unfortunately the accordion is, as I suspected, an Eb/Bb model which was apparently popular in the 50s/60s. A good key for singers but no good for folk sessions." So I'll be getting it back next time I pass that way.

My optician appointment this week confirms what I already knew about my near vision getting worse, but at least it's five years since the last new pair of incredibly expensive specs. Due to my complex prescription I get a voucher with a discount, welcome of course but contributing only a fraction of the cost. Luckily the children's range of frames fits me so I can choose a frame for only £40 rather than the other ranges which start at about £150...

And that's it for now. Normal service should resume in October.

Scoot

Taraloka, November 2021

I sit surrounded by junk. If only I could just throw it all out, but some of it is important and some of it is useful and I need to go through what has been accumulating for many months and make sense of it all. It has been delightful to unearth a replacement phone charger for the one I lost, and to find the lights I was going to use for my tent over the summer, but all the pension administration is much less attractive and no less necessary.

In the meantime, mum and I have been having adventures with mobility scooters. We went together to try out a second hand one at someone's house, and then to the local shop to have a go on a new one. Mum was slightly nervous but I whizzed about on the pavement. We have learned much - the top speed of different models, how they can be dismantled, the insurance and servicing requirements - but the main barrier to immediate acquisition is storage. The garage would be perfect but the door isn't all that easy to open and close and there is a half-brick lip which is too high for the scooter to drive over. Mum is thinking about a motorised door and a ramp or knocking out the brick lip, and further thinking about making this the accessible route into the house that is needed.

Apart from this I have been enjoying the freedom from volunteering and other responsibilities, meeting Buddhists for walks and meals and films, and badminton is back on the agenda at last. But now I must knuckle down and try to make some impact on the junk that surrounds me.

October 2021

More volunteering

Pat, August 2022

Straight after the Games ended, I went north to celebrate Sister D's birthday. It was a lovely break, and we visited some National Trust gardens while I was there, as well as lots of other enjoyable activities with the family. Immediately after that I took charge for a few days of another trainee Guide Dog named Pat, who was quite early in her training but much more well behaved than many of the other dogs I've looked after. The weather was too hot to go out much during the day, but we spent some  quality time in the garden. I also arranged to visit a friend's cat while she was away in Edinburgh, and there was a walk and a meal out with the Buddhists, and the boiler got serviced, and the car needed a bit of work done, and I tidied up the garden, and altogether there was lots to do.

I also spent some time with Radio Man - remember him, from Warwick Folk Festival? We had lunch in a cafe, we went for a walk, we watched some badminton at the Games, we played with Pat in the garden, and we visited Bletchley Park. Then I put a stop to it, as kindly as I could. I found that it was very difficult spending exclusive time with someone else, which means that welcoming UJ is going to be a challenge. Yes, she's supposed to be coming over again, but without the cat which is staying with her parents. She keeps postponing her arrival date - at the moment it looks like it will be early October.

Then it was time for my next stint at volunteering, at Shrewsbury Folk Festival. This event is similar to Warwick's festival but much bigger, and I was assigned to something called the Task Force with no further information other than how to report for duty. It turns out that the Task Force's job is to do whatever is asked for by other teams - for example, to move a piano, to take up the striped plastic tape that delineates camping, parking and other designated areas, or to patrol the site making sure everyone is happy and trying to fix it when they are not.

Fourteen hours on duty divided into seven two-hour shifts is requested in exchange for the price of a weekend camping ticket, with the option to arrive before the masses so as to have the pick of the camping locations. I had a look at the programme and tentatively circled a couple of acts each day that I'd like to see, and when I got my shifts nearly all of them coincided with something I would have liked to see. I got one changed, and for one shift I patrolled the stage where the performance was happening, but I missed a few acts that I would have liked to see. And nearly all the shifts seemed to coincide with mealtimes so I ended up eating at strange times of day.

It was hard work - much harder than for Warwick, and more tiring than for volunteer stewards in other teams whose job might be sitting at the side of a marquee watching a performance for four hours. But at least it was more interesting than sitting at the top of a tower watching out for fires and more pleasant than picking up litter. After patrolling the site for four hours, or spending an hour hammering in pegs to secure metal barriers, I wasn't fit for as much dancing as in previous years. On one shift I had to deal with unhappy campers who had been directed to places where there didn't seem to be any space and so had been driving round for quite a long time. They all appreciated that I was trying to help them but it didn't make the job any easier.

I met quite a few of the volunteers who had been at Warwick, and some new volunteers who were unexpectedly connected to my family - two musicians who live round the corner from H+B, and a shop manager who knows Cousin Y as they work for the same organisation. But missing acts that I wanted to see because of shifts or fatigue probably outweighs the benefit of the free ticket, so I may not volunteer for this one next year. And the event itself isn't as good as it used to be pre-Covid, so there's even a chance I'll try a different festival next year - I've got my eye on a couple of them.

What I've been reading

Free Time! from clock-watching to free-flowing, a Buddhist guide
by Vajragupta Staunton

"Investigating our experience of time, and considering our relationship with it, can be deeply and powerfully transformative. Noticing the feel and texture of our time can help us see more clearly, and understand more profoundly, the anxiety and restlessness that so often dominates our minds."

The latest book from my favourite Buddhist writer, and he doesn't disappoint. A fascinating delve into concepts of time, with just enough science to satisfy me that it isn't all just hokum and just enough Buddhist thinking to keep me interested.

The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

"A foundling brought up by Mr. Allworthy on his country estate, Tom Jones is deeply in love with the seemingly unattainable Sophia Western, the beautiful daughter of the neighbouring squire - though he sometimes succumbs to the charms of the local girls."

This is a really long book, and what with all the volunteering and other things I've been doing it's taken weeks to finish.  Fielding took two years to write it (1746-8), and despite the 18th century language and references it's more accessible than some later works I've read recently. Of course it does go on a bit, and I won't be reading it again, but it's not bad.

The Games - part 2

Victoria Park, August 2022

While all that badminton stuff was going on at the Commonwealth Games, or 'Birmingham 2022' as it was known in the press and on all the logos, Lolatastic life continued apace. There was a bike service, a comedy gig, a stay in hospital, visitors to Lola Towers, the putting up and taking down of the Lola Towers garden extension (aka the tent), a trip to Lockwoods outdoor supplies shop, Ukrainian news, and the Games in Leamington Spa.

On that last subject I would like to direct your attention to two articles in the press. The first article is the more staid, traditional form of reportage by the staid, traditional BBC, especially notable for the quote from the 'general manager' of Pub Next Door. I put his role in quotation marks because to me he seems little more than a teenager, but I expect he's at least 30. The second article is from The Guardian and is much more amusing but no less accurate for that. Bowling in Leamington Spa has never felt more exciting. I happened to pass the main entrance at one point, where I encountered a very jolly volunteer with a megaphone sitting atop a high chair, whose job was to welcome spectators to the park by shouting interesting information about Lawn Bowls and the Commonwealth Games in years gone by.

I've already described some of the disruption in my local area, but that was during preparations leading up to the start. When the event actually began the level of security escalated enormously, particularly at the end of the road, where a number of the huge lens-shaped obstructions that I've seen protecting Parliament were installed a couple of days before the start, and then additionally a large and heavy horizontal barrier was constructed. I regret not taking pictures (I was too busy and kept forgetting), but as well as the orange-and-grey-clad volunteers there were stewards and security in hi-vis, Army chaps in camouflage, ordinary uniformed coppers and policemen WITH GUNS, all milling about at the end of the road as visitors arrived with their tickets for the bowling and residents wandered through with pushchairs and shopping bags and dogs.

My first guests (JW+JD) arrived by car as they were stopping on the way to their holiday in Cornwall, and I made sure to be at the barrier brandishing my resident's credentials otherwise they would have been turned away by a ruthless official in hi-vis jacket. Later in the week I received one of my frequent incorrect delivery attempts (intended for a house in the Road instead of the Street) from an Asda delivery man, wearing an Asda shirt and carrying heavy trays of Asda groceries whose Asda van had not been allowed past the barrier so had to deliver it all by hand.

The evening that the first guests arrived was also the evening that dad was taken to hospital with sepsis. Lola II just happened to be visiting at the time, so she was able to go with him and make sure all was well. He was in hospital for nearly two weeks, but home now.

JW+JD had tickets for the Rugby Sevens, Squash, Badminton, Cricket and Athletics; the next guests to arrive were Lola II and Cousin Y who had tickets for Hockey and were accompanied by Mr M who didn't have tickets for anything. I took up the residents' offer of free tickets for Lawn Bowls so he went to that. JW+JD headed off for Cornwall, Cousin Y went back to London, Lola II and Mr M had an extra night before they went home and then Mr MXF and BL2 arrived ready for Cycling, Diving, Athletics and Lawn Bowls courtesy of another pair of free tickets. By the time they all went home the house seemed very quiet.

While all this was going on, I was also in communication with Ukraine Jane 2, who is from Kherson but taking refuge in Poland. We introduced ourselves to one another, had a short conversation via WhatsApp, applied for the visa, the visa was granted and we worked out when and how she would get here, all within the space of just 8 days. Then two days later she announced she wasn't coming here after all but going to Slovakia for family reasons. And then, the very next day, the first UJ (the one with the cat) got back in touch to ask if the room was still available. I'll be speaking to her soon to find out her current situation.

The only other event of note was the visit to Lockwoods where Lola II wanted to buy some proper waterproof walking boots. Not only did we confuse the shop assistant by both of us being called Lola, but aside from the boot purchase the most notable aspect of the visit was that despite being over 50 years old, Lola II and I learned how to tie our shoelaces in a useful new way.

The Games - part 1

End of first shift, Commonwealth Games, July 2022

Before the day that competition started, I was listed for two days of Venue Specific Training and induction to the role, at the actual location for the badminton in the NEC. Information about this was slow to arrive, especially as the train strike meant that plans probably had to be amended at the last minute, but thanks to an email the previous evening I got to the car park where I intended to park in good time, which is no mean feat at the NEC.

It was a long walk from the car park to the first queue, which was for the accreditation to enter the venue. The next queue was for airport-style screening, where they only had one gate in action to start with. Then they announced to the long line of people that they had opened a second gate, but didn't have any more of the trays so it didn't speed up all that much. That got us inside the security fence, but it was still another long walk to get to the assembly point for us volunteers, where we started to line up for our lunch tickets but were told we should just go and sit in the break area where there were hot drinks and biscuits for us. A bit later we were asked to line up again for our lunch tickets, and then immediately told sorry, could you sit down again?

As you can imagine, this gave those people who love to complain a great deal to complain about, as well as the train strike, parking, the uniform and everything else that was actually working very well considering the size of the enterprise. This was fairly useful in that I could easily identify the people to keep away from. By this method I was hanging out in the break area when I discovered sitting next to me one of the nicest badminton players in a club where I was a member ten years ago.

There seemed to be about 50 volunteers for the badminton, and after we'd been hanging around for some more time they took half of us from the break area to the hall where the competition would take place and we received our training from a team whose first language was not English and who were wearing masks. In fact, they told us we would all be wearing masks on court. But thankfully the main trainer took his mask off, and there were written help sheets, and a presentation and videos, and we went through all the technology and could have a short practice.

The role involves two of us at a time sitting at a table at the side of the court watching the play. One person uses a laptop and the other one has pen and paper. The pen and paper role is the more straightforward: first you note who is serving, then you count the strokes in the rally, then you note down what the score is, and repeat.

The tech role involves much more, and what we do is sent directly to broadcasters, so there is an element of jeopardy too. The majority of the time it is similarly just counting strokes and noting the score, but there are additional responsibilities when old shuttlecocks are exchanged for new, if a Service Fault is called (when the serve starts above the waist), if any penalties are applied (yellow and red cards and disqualification), and if a Video Review is requested. This last is the most terrifying, because we have to record which team requested the review and whether it is successful or unsuccessful, and it is very easy to become confused about these things in the heat of the moment.

Our trainers reassured us that should anything go wrong we just raise our hands and they will instantly be at our sides, but it was still a bit terrifying, especially for the very first shift. My first shift was with someone who'd done it the previous day, and he worked the laptop while I was on pen and paper. It still took two of us when the video reviews happened, because we had to look at a screen that was not facing us and the result came up very small and difficult to see.

My shift pattern kept changing, but in the end I did five shifts on the courtside desk and attended six badminton sessions and one table tennis session as a spectator, sometimes in the company of friends, sometimes on my own. The table tennis was very interesting - it's much faster paced than badminton and much more difficult to see what's going on, and without any experience of the game I didn't appreciate what must be immense skill among the players. I sat near some helpful people who explained the bits that I didn't immediately understand (why they make such a performance out of serving, why the umpire kept raising his hand, how does the order of serving work...)

And to finish this first part of my account, a snap of the England badminton team at the end of the team event.

The Radio Room

Adams restaurant, July 2022

After my first two shifts volunteering for the Warwick festival on the main gate, my next two shifts were in the Radio Room. I had no idea where this was or what it would entail, but it turned out that the 'room' was a large motor home inhabited by Radio Man plus a lockable shed and a lot of radio equipment and two more Radio Assistants.

I turned up at the start of my shift and was given an introduction by the previous volunteer, as Radio Man was nowhere to be seen and the two Radio Assistants were at a site meeting. The radios were being used on different bands by the main site, the security team, the gate team, and the 'Wombles' - the term used for the volunteers who clean the site and the toilets. My job involved keeping an eye on all the kit, receiving and handing out the radios, and being the link to the outside world via a separate mobile phone for proper emergencies like fire and child abduction. 

The key impressions I formed during the first hour of my first shift were as follows (in order):

• There doesn't seem to be anything to do
• That previous volunteer keeps talking at great length about himself - oh good, his shift has finished now
• Ah, Radio Assistant 1 has arrived and he is actually giving me some useful information and insight into the role
• Oh, now he's started talking at great length about himself
• He's still going
• I'm getting a really detailed account of his trip to Thailand where he was sent by the RAF to do a couple of hours work and got to stay for a whole weekend
• Hooray, Radio Man has emerged from the motor home, maybe I will be saved
• Oh dear, Radio Man is standing behind Radio Assistant 1 just rolling his eyes at me; that's no help at all
• My goodness, the RAF paid for him to become qualified to teach and now that's what he does. I feel a little bit sorry for his students
• Radio Assistant 2! Maybe... no.
• Some people have arrived who appear to need something and are being helped by Radio Assistant 2, which has distracted Radio Assistant 1 who has gone to join in, thank goodness, at last
• There really doesn't seem very much for one person to do, let alone four people
• Now Radio Assistant 1 has gone to get something to eat
• Radio Man, who seems to be the one in charge, reassures me that yes, there isn't much to do at the moment, but things will get busier once the Great British Public turn up and start causing trouble. He shows some interest in me. This is novel.

As soon as they could see I was a fairly sensible and responsible person, Radio Man and Radio Assistant 2 went off to have something to eat, leaving me on my own with all this gear after a few minutes of instruction and an hour of listening to people mostly talk at great length about themselves. They reassured me that they would have radios with them and would intercept any complicated questions that came in for the Comms team.

The job was quite strange. My role involved handing out radios and cleaning and recharging them when people bring them back, and showing how they are used if someone really hasn't used one before. There was a sheet about what to do if a child or vulnerable person is lost, which was fairly terrifying, and I was told there would be a rehearsal at some point, which thankfully took place while I wasn't working. While I was on my own there were a couple of calls, one asking me to look in the tent next door (where they didn't have radios) to try and find a missing bus driver, and another to point out a mistake on the child/vulnerable person sheet.

Eventually Radio Man and Radio Assistant 2 came back. Radio Assistant 2 was a jolly man who liked to talk, so he was often up and chatting with his mates. Radio Man was quieter and more interesting - he lives in South Africa much of the time, and the comms stuff is as much a hobby as a profession. He's been working with the Warwick team for about 30 years, but he doesn't much like folk music. Towards the end of my first shift he started showing me how the radio comms works using diagrams of transmission and receiving frequencies.

I didn't have to work on Saturday, because I'd been invited by a friend to go to a VERY fancy meal in Birmingham (I have included pictures of three of the 'courses'), but I volunteered for an extra shift on Artists Reception on Sunday morning. If there wasn't much to do in the Radio Room there was even less to do in Artists Reception by that time on Sunday, as very nearly all the artists were already there. But I could have a chat with interesting people as they wandered through asking to borrow a biro or some tape, and two performers did turn up within my 3.5 hour shift.

After lunch I was back in the Radio Room, and there was much less talking about themselves and much more talking about how the lost child incident the previous day had not gone all that well, and because the event was drawing to a close lots of people stopped for a chat as they brought their radios back.

I haven't said much about the music. If you imagine a continuum, from the real folky end with a cappella tunes from Ireland or Scottish jigs: all mouth organs, fiddles and accordions, to the folk/rock end with amps, guitars and drum kits like my favourite Oysterband or even Billy Bragg, then Warwick Folk Festival is nearly all at the hardcore folky end of things. While I like folk, I prefer it to be towards the folk/rock end of the continuum, and I did catch a couple of acts that I liked, but most of the fun for me came from being part of the team and meeting and working with interesting people in a field. And thankfully it didn't rain and the temperature dropped, otherwise we would all have been cooked inside the marquees.

Radio Room, Warwick Folk Festival, July 2022

What I've been reading

A High Wind in Jamaica
by Richard Hughes

narrated by Michael Maloney

"The gripping story of the Bas-Thornton children, whose parents send them back to England following a hurricane in the postcolonial Caribbean they call home. Having set sail, the children quickly fall into the hands of pirates."

I had no idea what to expect of this book from my list of Classics. It was mostly good, but it occasionally tested my credulity - one of the children disappears (we know he is dead but they do not) and the author suggests that the other children never speak of him again, nor even ask what happened to him. But most of the time they are victims of the adults around them, trying to make sense of what is going on from the very limited experience of their short lives. Some have compared it to Lord of the Flies, but it has much less depth than that great work.

Wild Awake: Alone, Offline and Aware in Nature
by Vajragupta

"What is it like to be completely alone, attempting to face your experience with only nature for company? Here the author recounts how 'solitary retreats' have changed him, how he fell in love with the places he stayed in and the creatures there."

I first read this exactly four years ago and loved it then. It has lost none of its beauty with this reading, and the author was the leader of the last retreat I attended. Many of the Buddhist books I've read are written by someone with something to say but not necessarily the writing skills to say it well, but Vajragupta is a wonderful author as well as having interesting things to say.

The Swimming-Pool Library
by Alan Hollinghurst

A darkly erotic work that centres on the friendship of William Beckwith, a young gay aristocrat who leads a life of privilege and promiscuity, and the elderly Lord Nantwich, who is searching for someone to write his biography"

I can honestly say that I've never read a book like this before. It came from the Classics list, and is written from the gay male point of view like nothing I've come across - there are no female voices whatever, and no female characters, although a sister is briefly mentioned at one point. What a strange life, of promiscuity and pick-ups and strange sex in odd places, and while the majority is from the point of view of the main character who is in his 20's, we find out through his narration about how brutally homosexuality was dealt with in past times. And, a little, about similar issues in modern times. I never felt like stopping reading, though, and I imagine that he has achieved a great deal in writing this.

Cranford
by Elizabeth Gaskell

"An ironic portrayal of female life in a secluded English village predominantly inhabited by women. The return of a long-lost brother is the most dramatic event to occur over the course of the sixteen tales that comprise the novel."

My books list says I read this five years ago in audiobook format, but I didn't remember much of it. It's quite a lightweight tale, mostly about the women of the village, and presents a stark contrast when read directly after The Swimming-Pool Library. On the whole, perhaps unsurprisingly, I prefer this book.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
by Mark Haddon

"Christopher John Francis Boone knows all the countries of the world and their capitals and every prime number up to 7,057. This is the improbable story of Christopher’s quest to investigate the suspicious death of a neighbourhood dog."

I think I first heard this dramatized on the radio and enjoyed it, but then I was given the book and it filled a few hours on retreat, after which I passed it on to another retreatant. It's good, definitely unusual, sad and frustrating.

A Guide to the Buddhist Path
by Sangharakshita

"For those wishing to deepen their knowledge and experience of Buddhism, this is a complete map of the Buddhist path."

This was recommended for me to read about six years ago when I started getting interested in Buddhism. I had a go back then but really didn't understand much of it so I stopped. I didn't have enough of the basic reference points and it was just too advanced for me at that stage, but I picked it up again to take with me on retreat and found that it made a lot more sense at my current level. If I leave it for another six years I'm pretty sure I'll get even more out of it.

Send Nudes
by Saba Sams

"Threading between clubs at closing time, pub toilets, drenched music festivals and beach holidays, these unforgettable short stories deftly chart the treacherous terrain of growing up - of intense friendships, of ambivalent mothers, of uneasily blended families, and of learning to truly live in your own body."

Written by a young woman, the short stories introduce me to a world almost as unfamiliar as the one in the Swimming Pool Library, but this time inhabited by today's young people. I think I recognise some of the generic aspects of the lives described as similar to mine at that age, but they have social media and technology, which makes their actions seem so much more deliberate and damaging. Sometimes sweet but mostly disturbing, I did enjoy the book.

The Games approach

Victoria Park, view from the Avenue Road entrance, July 2022

We are well into the period within which I have committed to doing much more than I should. I have most of the day 'free' today before I go to my next shift of volunteering (of which more later) so today will be full of all the things that have been postponed, including blogging. And pictures of the local preparations for the Commonwealth Games (CG) bowling.

View from Archery road (which will be obscured when they finish the stands)

While I was away camping and retreating there was a mini-drama about my very exciting CG uniform. I had been notified that it might be delivered while I was away, and that the delivery company would only hand it over in person, so I used the contact form to indicate when I wouldn't be there and asked that it might not be delivered during that time. The first response was that I would receive a notification and then have the opportunity to change the date, but I pointed out that while offline I wouldn't receive the notification. The next response was that my requirements had been passed onto the relevant team.

Then I received two emails on the same day from the delivery company, during the period I'd said I was unavailable for delivery, the first at 11.59 to say that the uniform would be delivered and the second at 13.30 to say that it had been delivered. I messaged the CG contact, and received the reply that they are very busy at the moment but will get onto it as soon as possible. When I got home there was a note from a lovely neighbour who had seen the box on my doorstep, i.e. on the pavement outside my house, and when it was (miraculously) still there next morning they took it inside. Eventually the CG team got back to me to say that the delivery company were still claiming that it was handed over in person. So all's well that ends well, but I wouldn't recommend that anyone uses Yodel.

View of Archery Road from the river walk

The Garage Door Man came round, straightened the bits of the lock that were bent during the attempted break-in (which means the door now locks properly again), and we had a very confusing conversation indeed about all the different options for updating the ancient mechanism. Eventually, when I realised I hadn't understood any of the options, I asked him what he would do. He found it equally hard to decide, and went away to find out whether my garage door was a standard size or not, which would influence other decisions. I await developments with low expectations.

Ongoing stand construction

Lola II and I had another great day out in Oxford, which is a convenient distance for both of us to meet, but which is terribly deficient in cake supply. After checking out the Weston Library exhibitions - this time they were about the discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb and the different sensory experiences of books - we went to the University Botanic Garden. This ought to be the perfect setting for Lemon Drizzle by the river but instead it has a tiny coffee stand with no more than a flapjack or two. Not that I'm eating cake at the moment - the very exciting Commonwealth Games trousers are a little tight around the middle...

The next day contained the second lot of periodontal surgery in the morning, and a badminton club dinner in the evening, which I attended to say hello but left when the food arrived. The surgery this time was more extensive and involved the lower jaw, which the periodontist warned me would be worse than the previous one, and  indeed it is. A week later and I'm still feeling rather delicate and sore, and very much hoping that it will be worth it. I'll find out in three months' time.

No left turn

There have been other trips and calls and activities, but the two other matters worth reporting are the local preparations for the Commonwealth Games and my volunteering at the Warwick Folk Festival.

The CG construction teams moved into the park and the local streets just over a week ago. They put up the perimeter barriers, which contain about half of the area of the park and extend into the streets, removing about half the parking spots for the residents of our three streets. Detailed plans have been drawn up to give us all alternative places to park nearby as well as the option to book slots for deliveries and carers, and although I have the convenience of the garage I think it is no more than mildly inconvenient for most people, and will only last for one month. One neighbour is not so phlegmatic and is incensed by the whole thing; I have frequently seen his car parked in areas that have been allocated for other purposes.

Pedestrian access only to houses at the park end of Archery Road

Anyway, it all kicks off in a week's time, and I'm sure it will be very interesting to see how the spectators are managed when arriving and departing and how much more inconvenient it may become. In the meantime I have started my volunteering role at the Warwick Folk Festival, which is taking place in the grounds of Warwick Castle, in a field next to the Castle's overflow parking. My job for the first two days during set-up has been to manage the main gate which has a narrow approach allowing traffic in only one direction at a time. I have been stationed at the far end of this approach with a walky-talky which I use when vehicles arrive to check that nothing is coming the other way.

My first shift was for four hours during the hottest part of the heatwave we have just endured. Luckily someone had a chair for me to use, but I had assumed I would be working with other people so I hadn't brought a book. There was hardly any traffic at all, so I mostly sat very still in the shade with my eyes closed, and it wasn't too bad, and certainly easy compared with those who were building stages and constructing lighting rigs. The second shift was in the same spot, and I had brought my own chair and a book, but there was much more traffic so very little time to sit and read - the overflow parking was in use so I was dealing with visitors to the Castle as well as traffic for the festival. My remaining two shifts will be in the Radio Room when the festival has actually started, which sounds quite exciting. I'm very glad I won't be managing that gate when the festival is live.

Solar panels in Victoria Park

Retreating

Rivendell, July 2022

First the usual explanation of the delay between blog posts - I managed to leave the power cable for my PC at mum and dad's so I couldn't type until I'd got that back, and as usual there have been a million things to do since getting back home.

The retreat was at a centre I hadn't visited before, with enough space in the glorious gardens for my luxurious tent and a more modest tent belonging to another retreatant. The weather was perfect and by chance (or maybe the other camper knew what he was doing) we both had found the best orientation for our tents - facing the early sun for warmth in the morning but shaded in the hottest part of the day.

The grounds of this retreat centre were amazing. The house was at the highest point with a beautiful garden at that level, then wide terraces descended to a pond used for waste water treatment and beyond this there were woods. The trees were mature and enormous: mighty oaks, a stupendous lime, willow and more towered in the distance.

The theme of the retreat was Buddhist practice outdoors, led by Vajragupta who wrote the book about this, and it was for 'beginners'  which meant that non-Buddhists could also attend. These two points meant that the flavour of the week was very different from my 'Seven Days of Silence' in Wales. We had periods of quiet and spent quite a bit of time outside on our own, but it was very sociable at other times. On the last full day we were given our own packed lunch and sent off until tea time.

I love Vajragupta's book on how he spends solitary time living in basic conditions, and would love to do the same. This week felt like practising for that situation. While some spent their day on a long walk (as I did on that previous retreat in Wales) I decided I would sit in just one place for a day and see how that felt.

I chose a meadow with a few isolated mature trees that I visited individually. I sat under a sycamore, and there were also two copper beeches, two trees I didn't recognise and a magnificent and beautiful oak. There were also deer grazing and resting and keeping well away from me at the bottom of the meadow, and I saw birds, butterflies, insects, spiders and rabbits. I sat there all day apart from a short walk to visit the trees, and didn't get bored for a minute.

That was probably the best part of the week if you don't count the time that three of us rolled down a short but very steep slope in the terraced gardens. That was a lot of fun. The worst part of the week was less than a mile from the centre - as I started my journey home I ran over a squirrel. Proper squashed. There goes all the karma gained from my good deeds for the week.