chilledchimp

Small Pleasures

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 22:26:19 GMT

After a grotty weekend it cheered me up no end to find some posh ginger beer in the bottom of my filing cabinet at work. I bought two ages ago, drank one and completely forgot about the other one. Tomorrow it will be chilled and consumed with great enjoyment.

Cooker Installation

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:26:30 GMT

Has anyone had a built in electric oven installed lately? We need to get ours replaced. I know Argos do delivery and installation but other ideas most welcome. And phone numbers of reliable tradespeople also welcome.

Ghost Walk on Monday

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 21:11:48 GMT

It's led by John Constable, author / channel of the Southwark Mysteries. I'm going - let me know if you are too, especially if you fancy meeting before or after for a drink.

http://www.london-se1.co.uk/whatson/event/7776/ghost-walk

Alan Bloody Titchmarsh

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 13:46:29 GMT

There's no rational explanation for why I like Dickinson's Real Deal. But I do. And if I am home on a weekday afternoon there's something cosy about having a coffee and a biscuit and watching The Duke. I was thinking it was getting on for 3pm so I checked the TV guide in happy anticipation and it's Alan bloody Titchmarsh instead! Boo!!!

Tor-ism

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 21:36:56 GMT

Glastonbury Diary

Day One – Welcome, Pilgrim!

I've been looking forward to this for so long. The plan was to visit Glastonbury when there wasn't a music festival, or a Goddess Conference or anything else special going on and to just enjoy the atmosphere and have a leisurely wander around. Steve was engaged in a full-on roleplaying marathon this weekend, so it seemed the perfect time to go.

I left Paddington station at 9.30 on Friday morning, had a bit of a delay in Bristol due to the vagaries of rural bus services but was safely at my B&B by twenty past one. It was inexpensive and basic. £35 per night for a single room, no cable TV, no wi-fi, no en suite, but with a private bathroom just down the landing. I had a late lunch of Greek salad and French bread while I decided what to do with the rest of the day. A bit of a wander around the bookshops yielded a copy of The Avalonians, a history of Glastonbury's revival in the early 20th century. Then I decided to go to the Abbey.

As I sat on a bench in the grounds taking in the atmosphere, a bloke in Tudor dress (with an extraordinary and impressive codpiece!) appeared and asked rather diffidently if anyone would be interested in a tour of the ruins for half an hour or so. A few of us said yes and had an informative and amusing hour in the company of the personification of the man who shut the place down for Henry VIII. We had to pretend to be medieval pilgrims and take the pilgrim's route around the Abbey while he explained what the monks did and the Abbey's historical significance and demise. Learning without tears, and great fun. It's a gorgeous place and has a lovely energy about it, but it led to me feeling slightly irritated with some of the New Age / Pagan community there. The Abbey is now owned by the Church of England who have a rule that no rituals or, slightly weirdly, dowsing take place within the parameters of the Abbey walls. I didn't think this was unreasonable – their house, their rules and you could do anything you liked in the rest of the grounds – but some dowsers were a bit put out and some other people were doing mini-rituals in corners after the guided tour ended. Are you trying to make a point?

I spent two hours in the Abbey ruins, one on the tour and another just looking around, enjoying the herb garden and the wonderfully hammy Tudor guides. I started feeling tired then, so raided the Co-op for supplies and had a cold supper in my room, reading The Avalonians, drinking cider and watching Eastenders. Early bed.

Day Two – Magic-Land

I'd decided the night before that I would climb the Tor on Saturday morning. I'm not usually a breakfast person but I love a full English on holiday and I would need the energy. I hadn't even seen the Tor at this point; it's on the edge of the town and not visible from the High Street. As I left the town centre and turned left towards the Tor and the Chalice Well I got my first view and it was impressive. I was wondering how long it would take to climb and decided it would take at least the whole morning. When I got there, however, I found that English Heritage had laid proper concrete paths to combat erosion and, less importantly, to aid climbing. It took less than an hour between leaving the B&B and reaching the top of the Tor.

It wasn't especially early, a little before 10am, but only a few people were at the top. The view is great and it felt really peaceful up there. A digression – Sue at the College of Psychic Studies and Su Jolly had both warned me about Glastonbury's peculiar energy, and they were right. Whatever I felt there I seemed to feel at top volume. As I have an anxiety disorder I always find it hard to settle to being away from home – it takes some hours to get over that “did I leave the gas on?” feeling and on day one a faint niggling anxiety did feel multiplied significantly. On top of the Tor, however, it was peacefulness many times over. Eventually, mainly due to thirst, I came back down. I was quickly startled out of any reverie, however, by the loudest MOO I have ever heard. Two cows had come around the hill and were about to cross the footpath right behind me. Number one cow announced his presence (it was a bullock) and gave me a very hard stare until I moved. Score one to Team Bovine. At the bottom of the Tor is the Chalice Well. A cow-free zone. Good.

The Chalice Well is in beautiful gardens. When I arrived a young woman was talking to the woman taking entrance money at the gatehouse. I admired the lovely roses she was holding. The gatehouse lady said the young woman had got married at the Chalice Well the day before. She offered a plan of the gardens, asked me where I was staying and asked what I thought of it, as her son had stayed there a week or two before, then handed me my ticket and asked “Have you been here before? No? Well, welcome to magic-land!” And there is something magical about the place. Mobile phones are banned and it is designated as a World Peace Garden. I had to force myself to slow down and take it all in, but felt considerably calmer and relaxed after an hour in the gardens. The Well was still decorated with white roses and white ribbons from the wedding. I went back into town but returned to the Chalice Well later.

Another digression – Steve's lived in the country and says you never get anywhere or anything without having a bit of a natter. It was certainly true in Glastonbury. People were extremely friendly which made shopping rather slower than in London. It felt strange at first, to go in a shop and spend ten minutes buying one thing but I got used to it and started to enjoy discussing the weather, the annoying bus timetables, where I should go next etc.

Unsurprisingly there are a lot of shops selling crystals, statues and magical paraphernalia. They are somewhat slanted towards witchcraft and Wicca at the moment, although apparently they follow trends and change every few years. Until recently, I was told, they were more New Agey. There was one shop for Heathens, tucked away up a sidestreet near where the railway station used to be. There are jewellers, some second-hand and remaindered bookshops and lots of wholefood cafes as well as a couple of excellent toyshops. One stocked a good selection of boardgames, the other, Dusty Bears, had great companion plushies, some made on the premises. All shops were fully investigated, as were the various places offering treatments and rituals. I fancied a look around the Goddess Temple, but there was a course running so it wasn't open. Neither was it clear if you could go in unless you were on a course. Two hours of shopping and I hadn't bought anything, plus my feet were sore, so I left town again and went back to the Chalice Well. This time I spent a lot of time just sitting, did some meditation and drank half a litre of the Well water, which is has legendary healing properties. It has a high iron content, so I thought it would help my anaemia. I did feel a bit better afterwards but unexpectedly a nasty lump on my gum left by a dental infection started to hurt almost immediately and reduced in size by about half overnight. That couldn't have been just the iron?

My feet were achy and hot. There's a Healing Pool where bathing is permitted and I was dying to have a paddle but didn't want to in case people thought I was being a bit odd. I reminded myself that this is Glastonbury and being odd is a way of life and went to find the pool. Needless to say, there were several piles of shoes and socks and the water was beautifully cold and refreshing.

I didn't leave the Well until almost closing time. It shuts at 6pm in the summer, and this was the last weekend of summer opening. Back to the B&B to read yet more of The Avalonians, which is proving the perfect Glastonbury companion, then I dozed off.

I have no problem whatsoever in going on holiday alone but I hate eating alone, which is partly why Friday's supper was from the Co-op. But tonight I braved the town and went to Knights, a chippy with a restaurant which is reputed to be the best in the South West of England. It certainly was good, and serves local cider with the fish and chips. Yum. It would have been nicer to have someone to eat with, though. Some people on the table across the way said they had been up on the Tor at sunset. There had been a little impromptu ritual and a circle. One to do next time?

More book. More sleep.

Day Three – Cow Trouble

By late afternoon on day two I had pretty much seen Glastonbury, so I had to think of something to do between leaving the B&B at 9am and getting the bus back to Bristol at 2pm. Eventually I decided to climb the Tor again. I'm so glad I did. The morning mist had not yet lifted and being at the top of the Tor was like being on a ship with the tops of the neighbouring hills island-like through the misty sea. This is true magic.

The cows had relocated from the side of the Tor to the top. Perhaps they had decided to move nearer the monastery ruins as it was Sunday? Cows are big animals. They tolerated us smaller creatures, most happy to be stroked or scratched although the big brown cow I scratched between the ears moved off when she'd had enough. One woman enthusiastically greeted a cow with “Hello, Mooey!”, so I wasn't as bad as some.

I took my pendulum with me this time, as a way to tune in to the energies of the place. Those that believe these things may wish to know that the spirits of the monks are still very much with the ruins on top of the Tor but the Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, Richard Whiting, who was hanged, drawn and quartered on the Tor on Henry's orders has departed the place. Those that don't believe are welcome to say I was just a little twitchy, or maybe the cows were pushing the pendulum when I wasn't watching. They are remarkably sneaky creatures. And remarkably messy. Cow pats everywhere and they were forming moo-shaped roadblocks across the path on the way down. Obviously you have to go round them and I chose to make a broad circle. One end has horns and the other end has explosive qualities.

I stopped to admire the view one more time half way down. Another woman who'd been climbing on her own stopped to chat. She was a little older than me and had been regularly visiting Glastonbury with her husband for about eight years. He retired this summer so they sold their house in Barnet and moved permanently. She has a view of the Tor from her garden and a built-in wardrobe big enough to use as a library. I envy her so much! I can't think of anywhere more lovely to live.

Lunch at the Blue Note Cafe, a large vegetarian cafe in town followed souvenir shopping. Glastonbury appears to be the only place in the West Country where you can't buy fudge. I wanted to get some for Steve as I thought he'd appreciate it more than tarot cards or some candles. I bought myself a pendant which reproduced the design on the Chalice Well. After lunch I discovered that the bus timetables had changed mysteriously overnight. The 1.55 to Bristol had become the 12.43 and I'd missed it. The bloke in the bookshop reassured me that I could easily get a connection at Wells and kindly changed a tenner for me for bus fares. He was right. I rushed back to the B&B to get my case, caught a bus to Wells within five minutes and was in Bristol in loads of time to get my train.

I loved the weekend and can't wait to go back. The weather was fine, the places I visited beautiful and uplifting and the energy bloody weird.

And the cows were great. They told me to say that.

Here are some photos:

How grown up do I want to be?

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:08:59 GMT

Tigertailz are playing The Borderline in October, doing the whole of the Bezerk album (they were good with makeup but poor with spelling). Is the correct approach:

1) It was 20 years ago, get over it. I should do something more useful that night - the garden shed could do with a tidy.

2) Go out of curiosity, drink lemonade and hope it's not too loud.

3) Pretend its still 1989. Grab the hairspray in one hand and the eyeliner in the other, teeter out of the house in stilleto-heeled boots and come home pissed on cider at one in the morning.

Answers on a postcard please!

This is as political as it's going to get

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 22:13:25 GMT

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 21:26:49 GMT

I Don't Want To Lose You Yet by Steve Earle is the most gorgeous love song ever and I'll BITE anyone who disagrees with me. And not in a good way.

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 16:41:03 GMT

Home by 8am this morning. Hurrah for English loo paper, doorstep bacon sarnies and my own bed!

More on the trip later.

Steve's New Friend

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 19:25:22 GMT

In summer when the windows are open we often get invaded by several moths a night, but there's been a particularly pretty one hanging out recently. Steve ushered it out of the study window the other night and it made its way back in. I found it on the bathroom mirror. Steve made a successful eviction, but it didn't want to leave us so it flew round to the front of the house and spent several hours glued to the front room window until I disturbed it trying to get it to open its wings so I could make a positive ID. And I did - it's one of these http://www.bbc.co.uk/jersey/content/articles/2009/04/21/wonders_tigermoth_feature.shtml

Apparently they're common in South West England and the Channel Islands (hence the name Jersey Tiger Moth) but seem to be spreading in London now too.

All of this is just a preamble for one of my favourite jokes:

"Doctor, doctor, I think I'm a moth."
"I can't help you. I'm not a psychiatrist."
"I know, but I saw the light was on so I thought I'd come in."

Meme from Spencerpine

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 18:44:47 GMT

Graham has given me five words to write about.

Feminism
Is important to me although I'm not as politically active as I was as a student. I've moved from radical to liberal feminist, I suppose. I don't think I sold out when I got married because I'm not in a relationship where a man treats me like property. And I don't think I could be in that kind of relationship.

Bunter
Ah, William George Bunter, my favourite anti-hero. I liked Bunter when I was a kid but didn't own any of the books. About six years ago I found a second-hand copy of Billy Bunter of Greyfriars School and the collection started from there. I now own over 100 Bunter books and Magnet comic reprints. I'm not sure what the charm is. Bunter is greedy, stupid, lazy and a liar. Perhaps his appeal is that he brings out the best in all who encounter him, or just that he's very funny.

Spiritualist
I'm not one. I've done some mediumship at the College of Psychic Studies, and got some OK results, but I'm not terribly interested in bringing through Aunty Nellie from the Other Side. I'm not convinced it's from the Other Side either. I think mediumship is probably a mix of telepathy and (unconcious, perhaps) cold reading. Some are just charlatans. I do believe in ghosts but they're just as likely to be trace memories as concious spiritual beings. Am I going off topic a bit here?

Roleplaying
I still like it, and occasionally dabble, but it doesn't really do it for me anymore. I use my time for folkloric, psychic and occult interests instead. Like maths, Steve does it for both of us.

Music
I love it and don't listen to enough of it. I like rock, metal, some country and some folk-rock. Favourite bands are The Georgia Satellites and Led Zeppelin. From the current crop I like Kings of Leon and The Killers. Going to see Dan Baird (ex Satellites) on Sunday night.

Who Says the Devil has the Best Tunes?

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 19:13:41 GMT

I heard this on the radio earlier and it totally cracked me up. Let's hear it for Christian Creationist Country & Western. Yeehah!

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 09:11:12 GMT

Been home since Tuesday with some kind of horribly lurgy. My voice went completely on Monday night, which tends to indicate a coming cold for me. I wouldn't have been too bothered about seeking medical attention but I'm still quite new in my job and I felt awkward about being off, even though you can't do guidance work if you can't talk. I was patronised to the extreme at the doctors. Just because I can't speak doesn't mean I have learning difficulties and even if I did you don't have to talk to me like I'm a naughty four year old. I'm not pretending to be ill and it's not my choice or my fault that my voice has gone! They did a swab for the lab anyway. Didn't tell me what for, but as this has never happened before I'm guessing they're testing for H1N1.

Voice came back enough today for me to phone work, but nose and eyes streaming and sinuses ache. I'm on strict orders from my boss to stay at home until at least Monday, which is reassuring, but a bit pissed off at missing a visit to City University tomorrow. Visits are always interesting and a bit of a jolly - you normally get a nice lunch.

I've found it very hard to concentrate on anything, but I read the whole of Bryan Talbot's Alice in Sunderland yesterday and it was fantastic. Good if you like psychogeography, as was the Align talk recommended on Badwitchblog, which took place on Tuesday evening, just before I started to feel really rough. Three hours long, including intervals, but a wonderful mad gallop through ley lines, tumuli, churches, urban decay, crop circles, Australia, fairies and all manner of other Forteana. It's on again this coming Tuesday at The George inn on Borough High Street. If you can, you should go.

Sun, 05 Jul 2009 21:46:49 GMT

Among the Apes on Channel Five tonight graphically illustrated why everyone should avoid buying products containing palm oil. In order to reach orangutan territory Charlotte Uhlenbroek drove through miles of oil palm plantations, all of which had until recently been forest. Orangs have been driven out of China and other parts of the Far East and now live in small pockets of forest on Sumatra and Borneo. Apparently, when the loggers come the orangs sit in trees and cover their faces, possibly because they believe that if they can't see the loggers then the loggers can't see them. Many orangs are shot by hunters and the babies, if they are lucky, end up in rehabilitation units. Despite the best intentions of their keepers, few are ever able to return to the wild. Without learning how to forage from their mothers they would starve to death if not provided with food by humans.

And all of this happens because palm oil is a cheap fat for food and soap production. It's hard to avoid - many companies, for example Cadburys, list it on their products as vegetable fat. And it turns up in organic health foods just as much as in high street products. It would be helpful if companies were more open about where they sourced their palm oil. Some oil palms grow in Africa and the Canaries and have a far smaller environmental impact while providing a good source of income for the countries. Until this information is available I'm trying to avoid palm oil. I don't want to be part of orangutan extinction.

Pudding pt 2

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 00:10:42 GMT

The Pudding v Dessert question last week reminded me of a rather posh woman I met at the retreat centre earlier this year. The tables had been laid with spoons with which to eat fruit tart and she hastily dispatched her husband to the cutlery drawer to get them both forks. She said her teacher at boarding school insisted it was "fork and spoon or just a fork, but NEVER just a spoon" and she couldn't bear the thought of eating pudding with a spoon to this day.

So, today's question is How Do You Eat Yours? I'm OK with just a spoon.

A plea

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 23:48:39 GMT

To all men in London -

I know it's hot, but please could you keep your shirts on in public places unless you've had at least three people tell you - in writing - that you look fabulous naked. My half-hour in the park is the highlight of my working day and I have no wish to be put off my lunch.

Apologies for any sexism that may be inferred from this message. Thank you for your attention.

Rockin', but in a muted, middle-aged fashion

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 19:04:09 GMT

Wednesday will be my first gig this year. It's a nostalgia trip time for retired 80s rock chicks, with Eddie Spaghetti and Ricky Warwick (less hair these days, boo!) at the Underworld, where I spent more time than I probably should have as a student.
But I have a tooth infection, so no cider. It won't be quite 1988 revisited, then.

Book Meme

Fri, 26 Jun 2009 19:37:04 GMT

From Steve:

Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

1. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
2. Our Noise - Jeff Gomez
3. The Books of Blood (can they count as one?)- Clive Barker
4. Europe's Inner Demons - Norman Cohn
5. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
6. Albion - Jennifer Westwood
7. A Bear Called Paddington - Michael Bond
8. Ludo and the Starhorse - Mary Stewart
9. The Magic Faraway Tree - Enid Blyton
10. Riders - Jilly Cooper
11. Promethea - Alan Moore
12. Hammer of the Gods - Stephen Davis
13. Collected Poetry - WB Yeats
14. Strange Angel - George Pendle
15. The Complete Book of Tarot - Juliet Sharman-Burke

Afters, anyone?

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 18:21:58 GMT

On a training course today. Had lunch with two very pleasant women from British Columbia who were on a part-working, part-holiday trip to London. One of them turned to me and said "May I ask a silly question? Why do the English call dessert "pudding"? " I drew upon my exhaustive reading of Jilly Cooper to reply that, strictly speaking, dessert was fruit served as part of a meal, after the main course. Someone across the table opined that pudding was anything you ate with custard.

I wonder if whether you call it pudding or dessert is related to social class. The Headmaster of a posh independent school I used to work in always called it pudding. In my working class family it was called "afters" or pudding. At school it was afters, too. Perhaps "dessert" belongs to the middle classes, especially those who've spent time in the US, or see it as a more modern term?

I throw this one open to comment. Are you "pudding" or "dessert"?

In other news, I celebrated payday with an Indian Head Massage. It was lovely, and I will go back. Feeling very relaxed at the moment.

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:55:07 GMT

Any Supersuckers fans or anyone that remembers The Al-fuckin'-Mighty may want to know that Ricky Warwick and Eddie Spaghetti are playing a gig at The Underworld on 1st July. Not sure if they're doing a set each or something jointly, but could be fun.

Alhambra - Special Edition

Sat, 20 Jun 2009 20:46:57 GMT

You get two new cards, Moat and Duck House, and there's a new rule that you can get the other players to pay for them.

admirethemeerkats.com

Sat, 20 Jun 2009 20:30:25 GMT

Cute! Shame there's no film.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/cornwall/8108878.stm

A sign of the times

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 22:32:56 GMT

As I was a bit early for SELFS tonight I went for a walk around SE1 and visited the Crossbones Cemetary. Arriving at the same time were a troop of scouts with their lady scout leader. The kids demanded to know what the place was, so Akala read out the plaque on the fence saying that it had been an old burial ground for prostitutes and paupers. They didn't know what a pauper was.

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 22:28:23 GMT

When I was waiting for a bus on The Strand this afternoon a purple cow went past on one of those cycle rickshaws. She was a passenger, not the driver. I hadn't been drinking (that was later) and Steve saw her too, so I'm not hallucinating.

I'm underwhelmed

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 18:05:16 GMT

Sign outside a cafe in Kings Cross:

Today's Special - Cheese Sandwich

Exciting!