Commercial consumer waste

Not often these days do you see me in a suit, and only very rarely escorted by a polar bear. I was at Cheltenham Racecourse, not for the horses, but as a guest of the Commercial Group, whose 5th annual CSR Day took place today. This was a follow up from the chance meeting I had with someone from Commercial at the Cheltenham Connect pub quiz earlier in the year.

It's quite a big deal, CSR these days. On the whole, it seems right for Commercial to shout from the rooftops about their success in meeting carbon reduction targets etc. Their Green Angels scheme sounds good fun, and really does breathe life into the organisation, as claimed. And it's good that being green doesn't have to cost more.

I was drawn to go by the prospect of hearing Franny Armstrong in the flesh: she had made an impression on me with The Age of Stupid and 10:10; but today she looked weary. And by the end I too was weary of the relentless proferring of consumer items - albeit recycled - by those manning the many stalls, which pay to finance the Day. As Franny says, the problem is that we see about 200 advertisements every day: how can we counter their effect?

"The Diary of a Shropshire Farmer"

I mentioned last week the impending publication by Amberley of my great-great-grandfather's diary: well, now here's what it will look like. I'm told the book will be in my hands in four weeks' time.

A kind friend let me use her Claude Hayes Haymaking on the cover. Ideally, there would be a portrait of the diarist on the front, but there is none: so little is known about him apart from the two diaries - discovered by chance - which make up this volume! As I say in my introduction, it's a lot down to the fact that my father never knew his grandfather; my grandfather never knew his, nor his father his.

High definition performance

Not only do we have a Spanish señorita staying at the moment, but a Swiss mister too. Paulo, employed by Nespresso and notwithstanding his name from the French-speaking part of his country, is here for a fortnight’s intensive work with Caroline on his English. The Japanese in particular are fabled present-givers, but nobody has ever arrived laden with so many gifts as Paolo, generous man. And game too: we were booked in to the Met. live relay of Die Walküre yesterday: “May I join you?” he asked – not having any previous opera-going experience, still less any experience of grappling with Wagner’s Ring.

Happily, Robert Lepage’s new production (costing upwards of $16m) could not be clearer for the viewer: it is in fact outstanding in all respects, with a stunning set: a simple concept, but fiendishly complicated technically – the start was delayed half an hour as computers were sorted out, so we learnt. It’s always a worry that such a delay might mean one of the stars is struggling to be fit.

That was no problem yesterday: all six principals were in geat voice. Though Deborah Voigt’s Brünnhilde is never going to be to my taste, all the others are perfectly suited to their parts, with Bryn Terfel the most human of Wotans, and his stage wife (the superb Stephanie Blythe) the most statuesque. During Die Walküre, there is always a heart-rending moment, depending on the performance: last night, it was Eva-Maria Westbroek’s O hehrstes Wunder! which made the hair at the back of my neck stand up. The conductor was Jemes Levine, clearly in considerable discomfort: I had no desire for 3D, but do wish we had had surround sound: the Roses Theatre, Tewkesbury doesn’t run to that.

"Why does it need to be so long?" asks Caroline. Something of an answer to this is given by Alex Ross in his recent New Yorker article: "Ultimately, the bond Wagner forms with his listeners is one of pure, wordless emotion, and his gift for capturing the nuances of human feeling constantly complicates our response." This takes time.

Earlier in the day, we had enjoyed a different sort of theatrical experience, champagne breakfast with kind friends who were staying at the new Ellenborough Park Hotel in nearby Southam. No expense has been spared there either.

I spotted that today is the third anniversary of this blog. Can I really have been retired so long?

A touch of Galician Spring

On the day of the Royal Wedding, our very own younger version of Pippa arrived to stay – from Spain. A graduate of Vigo University, Lorena is looking for an internship here, where she can put to good use her excellent English and her skills in advertising and public relations. Meanwhile, she is completing a year at the University of Gloucestershire, and lodging with us till the end of next month.
She’s already had a good go at me for not making more of my photographs. I’m about to put her at work finding us casas rurales to stay in, on our way back to the ferry after our fortnight with Thomas in Portugal.

Peter Davis' diary

I mentioned last year that I was on the way to seeing my ancestor, Peter Davis' diary into print: well, I now have a date from my publishers, Amberley: I caught the bus to their new Stroud offices - pictured - on Tuesday.

And the date? Rather fortuitously, it's my birthday, 30th May! So, look out for more in due course about "The Diary of a Shropshire farmer: a young yeoman's life and travels 1835-37".

News from Miri

Jemima Louise Rose Lawrence is the newest name for our family tree, born 7,000 miles away in Sarawak just over a week ago, to Kate and Oliver. With her cousin Sofia Filippi, arriving six months earlier for Hannah and Fabio, she evens things up as between my father's male and female offspring - seven apiece now.

Two granddaughters will surely keep my sister busy for a few years, particularly coming as they do from the more multinational department of our immediate family: she's naturally planning a visit to Miri fairly soon.

Rattled by 3D

A friend rang to tell me he had wasted most of Saturday morning trying to book for the Dudamel concert at the Proms this year: by the time he got through, it was sold out. Simon Rattle was once regarded by the critics as Dudamel is now, but barely a couple of handfuls were all that turned up to Cineworld, Cheltenham last evening for his appearance in the world's first 3D HD symphony concert film. My photograph shows what it's like being at a 3D performance without special glasses; though I'm bound to say wearing them gave me as much of a headache as taking them off. (The sound was brilliant.)

The snapshot shows a conductor, now 56, who used to be a familiar figure in Cheltenham Town Hall when half his present age and in charge of the CBSO. Then the hair was black, there was a lot more of it - and, dare I say, the shoulders were less hunched.

The concert - Mahler and Rachmaninov - is filmed in Singapore's amazing Esplanade concert hall: the way the first part is presented puts the audience in the passenger seat on a test drive with Sebastian Vettel - an audience, that is, which normally prefers the comfort of a sedately-driven saloon car. Things improve with the Rachmaninov, where we are treated to something of a Singaporean travelogue. Very beautiful too.

Would I go again? Yes, I think so, depending on the make-up of the programme: last night, the Cineworld website gave us not a clue as to what was in store! But I'm not sure the 3D adds much.

Cerney House

Caroline had been there before, but Friday was my first visit to Cerney House Gardens. I was delighted to have seen them, the more so as there were few others there when we went, so that it seemed as if we were monarchs of all we surveyed.

Jumping perhaps to conclusions, it seems that the Anguses came to North Cerney nearly half a century ago, developing their enormous garden gradually, so that it now percolates both up and down the wide valley above the village. There has been much tree planting, including this group of four quinces, amidst many varieties of tulip surrounded by box hedges - this (for me) was the main focal point.

If truth be told, I found the whole place a little run down, as if it was proving too much even for the large team still in service there. It is one thing to foster a natural look, and another to lose that sense of vibrant coherence you get with a really convincing garden, such as Rockcliffe.

Off to Portugal

Soon, we shall be away on our travels again. We are taking dog and grandchildren (not to mention three of the children also) for a fortnight in a remote mill house in Portugal, up near the Spanish border.

So, naturally I visited our marvellous local Red Cross bookshop for some ideas, and whilst there I met 90-year-old Eileen Holloway: her hat would do for our trip, don't you think?

A red day

It started badly. A case of wine arrived. In transit from front door to larder, the carrier handle broke, and so did a precious bottle - all over the pale hall carpet. As a result, the air was blue and the carpet red.

But we have radishes too to redden our day. The first fruits of our 2011 garden, along with some lettuice (but that wasn't grown from seed). A very satisfactory crop, in spite of the lack of rain, something that today at last looks as if it may be changing.

Good Friday: Ampleforth

Alas, I don't seem to be able to upload the photographic evidence, but I arrived here at teatime yesterday at the end of my cycle pilgrimage. I biked something over 200 miles, having cheated by catching the train from Oakham to Lincoln.

I was exhausted after the first two days on the road, so did a mere 15 miles from the kind Twedells to Oakham: Leicestershire is more hilly than I imagined, so this was quite enough as it turned out. And the train enabled me to reach Lincoln in time for choral evensong in the Cathedral, definitely a highlight of my journey, particularly the Tallis Lamentations. Indeed, Lincoln as a whole I found incredibly impressive: worth a longer visit.

Altogether, it's been the most wonderful weather for the trip, which has made it as much a pleasure as a penance to choose the two-wheeled route. And now I have the privilege of a Benedictine Easter Triduum to join in - and a luxurious en suite room in one of the new school houses (a far cry from my days here).

Leicestershire intelligence

Here I am in sunny Leicestershire, about to embark on the third stage of my journey - making for Oakham, and my first visit to Rutland. Yesterday, I had a lovely - if tiring - ride through rural South Warwickshire and Northamptonshire. I passed signs saying first, No to some crematorium; then No to HS2, and finally No to the Kelmarsh Windfarm. Community feeling is vociferously expressed in these parts!

Starting off within sight of the battlefield of Edgehill, I passed through Naseby, another famous Civil War battleground.

One minor disappointment was that I found several churches locked, which I’d like to have looked round - including the large church in the centre of Market Harborough. I did arrive there rather late, I suppose, having had the wind against me most of the day. The final stretch into Harborough was an easy spin along the Midshires Way, the disused railway line which starts from Northampton. The spooky bit was the long tunnel some three miles south of Harborough - no lighting, and plentiful puddles.

I’ve been staying with kind John and Mary Twedell, the walls of whose old house are newly clad with insulation, they already having inserted under-floor insulation. (Their electricity bill is £7 a month!)

Cycle North

My five-day bike trip, from Cheltenham to Ampleforth, began today in glorious Spring sunshine. After mass in Prestbury, I tackled the steepest hill I am likely to encounter, Cleeve Hill, and then freewheeled down into Winchcombe, where I was given coffee by friends in their garden.

On to St Michael's, Buckland, as recommended by Simon Jenkins - a shrine of woodwork. Then lunch in Broadway, where I photographed this amazing wysteria, and on to Mickleton. St Lawrence's there is encircled with trees in blossom, and fields with frollicking lambs. Halford was a surprise: a village I'd been through many times on the Fosse Way, but beyond that containing an ancient bridge across the Stour and a host of pretty stone and brick houses. And a beautiful mediaeval Gabriel typanum over the North doorway of St Mary's church.

Traffic was mainly other bikers, motor bikes, sports cars and the vintage brigade: no lorries of course. Geese, pigs, horses I saw, but not one cow.

The best part almost was having cups of tea with two 90-year-old friends of my parents, who I dropped in on en passant - and finding asparagus for sale just before I arrived here at Little Kineton, with no present for my welcoming hosts.

Springbank

Still in training for my bike ride next week, I rode across town this evening, to a meeting about recycling - but nobody else turned up! Still, it was a fine evening and there is blossom everywhere, lining the streets. And it gave me a chance to see for the first time Cheltenham's first and only wind turbine. As you can (just) see from my photograph, it's tiny! But it was whirring round merrily, and I count it as a sign of hope.

Steven Osborne

Thomas has fairly recently been at work on Steven Osborne's website, so we of course made a point of crossing Cheltenham to hear him play this evening for the Cheltenham Music Society, at the Pittville Pump Room.

And what a performance he gave! Schubert's three last piano sonatas - rarely heard together on a single evening surely (though the composer himself so performed them on one celebrated occasion). Exhausting even to listen to, let alone to play - and with what a combination of energy and finesse!

Japerçu

Japan has been much in the minds of most of us this past three weeks. Our daughter-in-law has just flown back to be with her family in Osaka. Caroline's recent student, also from Osaka, returned the day before. It is perhaps not a time to be far away from one's homeland, even when the affected area is far to the North.

On our 2009 visit, we travelled mainly in the central area. I have now put together a picture album with some impressions of what we saw. It's available via the Blurb publishing site, where you can also preview it online.

Lady Day

What a great day it's been today! I can't recall a drier spell of weather in March, which means I have planted all my potatoes. And to have hot sunshine as well...

I took Caroline's Japanese student round the churches of Cheltenham today, and (topically) pointed out the Annunciation windows in the Parish Church and St Gregory's, both Victorian glass. This one (right) is a much older panel in the Burrell Collection: I photographed it a few years ago. It's a far more elaborate representation, possibly German. Unusually, God the Father is himself visible top left, that link between creation and redemption again.

As someone wrote recently, The Annunciation is logically the most important feast day in the calendar: without it, there would be no Nativity, no Easter.

Cheltenham in blossom

Appropriately, seeing as it's the week of the equinox, our photography tutor set us - for homework - the task of taking a seasonal image. So yesterday I biked down to the town centre and braved the traffic buzzing round Berkeley Place, so as to try to capture the blossom without also including cars or signage. (I am not really ever going to master post-production zapping, I have begun to realise.)

Jonathon Porritt

The programme for the Cheltenham Science Festival came today. Unfortunately, we are going to miss it all this year, as we shall be in Portugal meeting up with Thomas. A pity, because it is full of good things, including a talk by Festival regular Jonathon Porritt on "The Limits of our Planet". One of Jonathon's earlier appearances was at our Festival of Literature in 1993, when Canadian poet Heather Spears - self-appointed artist in residence that year - sketched him.

I have dug out the sketch to publicise a talk Jonathon is giving on 25th May here in Cheltenham entitled, "A sustainable world: reasons to be hopeful". (7.30 at Friends' Meeting House, Cheltenham, GL52 2NP - admission £3: prior booking needed.) This is under the auspices of Christian Ecology Link, of which he has for long been one of the Patrons.

Did anyone hear him on Any Questions? today: excellent.

Gold and the gospel

Expert gilder, Teresa Llewellyn is currently at work applying gold leaf to the tabernacle on the high altar of St Gregory's Church, Cheltenham. A very skilled job it is. "Can you see," she asked me, "the tiny animal head gargoyles? Unless you are up here on the scaffolding, they are invisible."

Teresa's work involves removing from the elaborate stonework the grime of ages and gold paint (of the 1970s), before she applies an incredibly thin layer of gold leaf, one of which she is holding in my photograph. A parishioner has given money to the church specifically for this purpose - some £10,000 or more I understand. It raises again the question asked by the disciples of Jesus, when a woman anointed him with a jar of very expensive ointment, "Why this waste? This ointment could have been sold for a high price and the money given to the poor." (Matthew, 26)

I don't know what today's answer sounds like, but I do think any expenditure of this level needs discussing within a parish community before it's embarked upon. It might even lead to the eventual decision to refuse an earmarked gift, if it was determined not to be right to be spending such a huge sum on what is essentially an unnecessary decoration. God knows there is enough real need in today's world!

Romeo and Juliet

We were treated to an evening out on Monday - Romeo and Juliet at the just-reopened Royal Shakespeare Theatre at Stratford. From my tour last December, I knew already how extensive the rebuilding has been. And very impressive it is also for its main purpose of presenting Shakespeare! My seat was in the back row of the Circle right at the side, no distance from the stage. The balcony scene took place just below me, and it mattered not at all that I couldn't see the back wall. Possibly, though, I wouldn't wish to sit any higher up.

The exhilarating production by Rupert Goold disturbed me, though it clearly entranced the Worcester school party alongside me. Goold deliberately alienates us with a mixture of period and modern dress, and an unconventionally plain-looking (grunge being their motif) pair of lovers. His cast throws away many beautiful lines, or plays them against their normal dramatic sense. The programme book contains just a couple of essays, on martyrdom and suicide, which threw little light for me on the production's values or its intended relationship to previous interpretations.

Altogether, the evening lacked a sense of history, which for the reopening of such an historically important place of theatre was disconcerting.

Revcounter at CEL

Polonius’ advice to his son was, “Beware of entrance to a quarrel.” So, it is with reluctance that I take issue with the keynote speaker at last Saturday’s Christian Ecology Link conference.

Polonius also pointed out that “the apparel oft proclaims the man,” a modern rendering of which might be “What you see is what you get.” Certainly, Father Peter Owen Jones could hardly look less like the conventional C of E vicar, and his message, too, set him apart from the norm. You don’t hear too many Sunday sermons referencing what a Druid has to say, for instance – and not once, but twice.

Our venue was St John’s Church, Waterloo. “Where,” Father Peter asked, “here in this place, is the space for herons, the food for red admiral butterflies?” As it happened, I could answer this easily: before his talk, I had strolled in the church’s beautiful garden; and there are these days many species of fish in the River Thames, just adjacent.

Yes, there’s plenty of indifference to nature within our church communities. And we do need reminding of the reason for Christian Ecology link’s existence. I liked the image of CEL as the pill dropped into the establishment’s water, still – after thirty years – relatively undissolved.

Father Peter, however, complains that there is precious little in the New Testament that relates to our treatment of the natural world. Jesus’ use of sheep, goats, sparrows and lilies of the field within his parables presumably doesn’t suffice. My objection is more fundamental, however: does he not appreciate the New Testament’s linkage between the story of our redemption and the glory of God’s creation? “It is he,” in the words of Pope Benedict, “the Creator himself, who entered into history, and can still enter into history and act in it, because he is the God of the whole and not just of a part. If we recognise this, obviously what follows is that the Redemption, what it means to be Christian, and simply the Christian faith in itself, always signify responsibility with regard to Creation.”

This is why I shall be celebrating the Easter Vigil in church, rather than by a bonfire on Firle Beacon.

"Carnival"

Despite being as I thought rather good at Latin when at school, I have only recently realised that carnival means "putting aside meat". Well, this is what we are going to try to do (for the first time) this Lent. So on Sunday Caroline's lunch menu featured duck (before the cheese). Sadly, however, it wasn't the birds that she had stored for the occasion in our garden shed freezer: when she went to fetch them, she discovered they had "flown": I hope the thief enjoyed his or her treat as much as we did our expensive one. Now, belatedly, we have a lock on the door.

Transition lunch

It was thirty years or more ago that Caroline and I first visited St George's Association, situated down a long drive just off Junction 13 of the M5. A delightful Sister Pauline Mary ran it - a home for educationally less able girls, who had by then become middle aged women. The huge range of buildings, complete with caged birds, was quite inappropriate for so small a community, and shortly afterwards it moved to a house in Lansdown here in Cheltenham.

The work of St George's has now changed and expanded, to include a café in the town centre, where our friend Malcolm has recently taken over as chef. Enterprisingly, he organised a special lunch today for the Transition Town Cheltenham network: a good time was had by all, and Malcolm catered for a full house.

"Is Christianity dying in the West?"

The well-known broadcaster Elaine Storkey was our stimulating speaker at the Severn Forum this evening, revisiting "the secularisation thesis". Her slides gave us a barrage of statistics and quotations, first of all to substantiate the thesis - as if we were not aware of declining church attendances. I liked the juxtaposition of a photograph of the London bus slogan, "There's probably no God..." with the cartoon of a church by a bus-stop, and its notice, "There's probably no bus so come to church and enjoy yourself a bit."

More interesting was Dr. Storkey's analysis of religious life as mutating, not disappearing. Of the 40% who are dechurched (or lapsed), more than half she said are waiting to be asked to return to the fold. Of the 40% unchurched, with no experience of worship, how many, she asks, may have a longing for God? The ways of being religious have moved into the symbolic marketplace; but how do we meet them there? Who is going to claim their baggage from the carousel?

My answer was this, with which our speaker agreed - as I knew she would being President of Tear Fund, with its carbon fast: when the church takes seriously the challenge of environmental degradation, and the need to uphold God's creation, we find ourselves very readily alongside those unchurched masses, many of whom are doing much to right the wrongs we should be talking about within our churches, but are not.