Maths and 10 year olds

As someone who can barely remember what I had for lunch each day for the last week I am struggling to check my daughter's maths homework, despite being an accountant for more years than I care to recall. We have recently been looking at the differences between area and volume today. I became more than a little agitated -at one point I looked skywards and must have transmitted my dismay to my daughter. Looking on the bright side of things she patently has no problem with English because her reply was "I'm not stupid dad, just partially confused" 

Pointless Signs: Harewood House Yorkshire

The first in an occasional series focusing on signs that, quite frankly, would have been better left unmade.
I was enjoying a rather pleasant Saturday afternoon walk in the grounds of Harewood House in Yorkshire. The house itself is owned by a noble family closely related to the Queen and is well worth a visit. The grounds however, like so many gardens and grounds of the once grand country houses of the nobility, have seen better days. The fact that there is not a staff of twenty gardeners anymore is probably the main reason for this. There are some good walks to be had though, and the walled garden and lake on the far side of the estate looked as if they would provide a quiet few miles of walking.

Back to my walk, I was ambling along the path skirting the lake when my attention was caught by a small notice about 20 feet off to the right in the surrounding woods. Being a rather inquisitive sort of person I naturally took a detour from the path and went closer to read what it had to say. You judge for yourselves if the notice was worth making.

   

Abbot Park Farm Campsite

The family have just returned from a great little camping holiday in The Lake District. The second holiday under proofed polyurethane this year. The site we selected was a great find. I am so happy with this site that I am, in some ways, reluctant to publicise it. We arrived on a Wednesday evening and pitched the tent. Our new tent takes about 45 minutes to put up, a far cry from my days of two man North Face tents that took about 4 minutes to pitch. A little while later our friend and her daughter arrived from Birmingham - that made three tents on the site. The next morning the other tent left and we were just two tents for the next night. One more family arrived on the Friday - so not the busiest site in the Lakes.

The site has only basic facilities, shower block, dish-washing block and no electrical hook-ups. However, what is there is spotlessly clean and of a good standard. The prices were reasonable too.
The jewel in the crown though was the tearoom attached to the farm, great cakes, cuppas and soft drinks at reasonable prices. They do breakfasts by arrangement too. They will also charge up phones etc, and freeze your ice blocks.

The farm is near to Ulverston and is at the southern ends of lakes Windermere and Coniston. there are lovely walks nearby on moors, lakeside and forest. I had forgotten how pretty the English lakes can look.
We enjoyed it so much we are going back for a few days in September to do some walking on the moors at the back of the farm which look over Lake Coniston. It really re-charged my batteries and I look forward to another session - truly away from it all soon.

http://www.abbotpark.co.uk/index.html

There I was thinking the cost of telecommunications had dropped...

I recently ran out of charge in my mobile phone battery and had to phone home for a lift from my wife. I managed to locate a public phone in York railway station. I rummaged in my pocket for some change and deposited a ten pence piece in the slot. I then dialled the number and... nothing. I read the directions in case the procedure had changed since last I used a phone. It was then I read with horror that I needed to deposit 60 pence in the slot. No matter I thought, I'll only be a minute, I'll get 40 pence change. Wrong; it took the lot!

A call of about 40 seconds cost 60 pence. Cherish those free minutes from your mobile operator and keep the battery charged up, you can't afford a public phone box. 

Time to Stop

I tell you, it's been a trying time
We've been trying to tell the time

It began at quarter past nine just fine
By quarter to ten they began to whine

The journey from digital to analogue
The tale I'll tell you via this blog

They seem to have a mental block
Regards the mighty shiboleth 'clock'
   

Salute to Chocolate

Terry’s, Cadbury, Suchard, Lindt and Rowntree

Devout disciples of the mysterious chocolate god

Expensive? Yes – all the best in life is never free

Chocolate: heavenly luxury from a really ugly pod

Even Hershey from that far off, once colonial shore

Tastes, to me, like a thousand things in one

Sweet, smooth, meltingly soft, all at once, never a bore

A thousand times better than a cup of tea with scone

Fry’s, Mars, another two. How many know the secret?

Do they alone know the black art of the chocolatier?

Are there others yet untasted? Let me in, don’t keep it

I’m going to get some now. I love chocolate, I’m sure its clear

My Tropical Toilet

A pink phalaenopsis hybrid

Much as I love English country gardens and the range of plants that can be grown in Britain I miss tropical gardens. I had a garden on the roof of my house in Bangkok, and grew a huge variety of orchids, palms and other tropical flowering shrubs and foliage plants.

Of all the plants I grew orchids were my favourites, and I had a fairly big collection. These were given to my father-in-law when I left Thailand. They now decorate his garden in Kanchanaburi in Western Thailand. I am going to Thailand for three weeks in December so will visit his garden then. Meanwhile here in the UK I have taken steps to add a touch of tropicality to our house here.

I have purchased or been given about twelve varieties of orchid, mostly phalaenopsis hybrids. After a little experimentation I have found that the bathroom is the best place for them. Most have re-flowered or continued to bloom since acquisition.

I will feature one variety of orchid at a time as they come into peak flowering condition. Meanwhile, here is one bathroom windowsill of phalaenopsis hybrids and a close up shot of one of the pink flowers.

The Modern Youth Hostel

The family are just returned from a wonderful weekend in Wales. We had intended to ascend Mount Snowdon, but we were thwarted by the weather. We eventually only got to just below the summit ridge. Every cloud has a silver lining though and we received a full refund of our train fare.

Our accommodation was the converted coaching inn at Bryn Gwynant. It is set in 40 or so  acres of woodland and informal gardens with stunning views out over Llyn Gwynant.

The last time I stayed in a youth hostel was probably in 1998 or 1999. Things have changed
for the better in the intervening years. It was much more like a hotel than the austere, rather boarding school - like, hostels that I remember.

We had a family room that would have slept 5 people comfortably and en-suite bathroom. Gone is the cook-it-yourself breakfast complete with individually labelled milk and cheese in a communal fridge. For a very reasonable charge you can have a buffet breakfast and a chef cooked plate of full English, or in this case Welsh, breakfast.

The view from the dining room was wonderful, I don't know of any Travelodges or Premier Inns with a dining room panoramic view to come close.

We have decided to return to Bryn Gwynant and explore North Wales in more detail.

The UK's prettiest power station?

                                                    The UK's prettiest power station?                                                                                                                                                                                                           

I would never equate pretty with power stations. To be reminded of their ugliness I need drive only a few miles south to see Drax coal-fired power station in South Yorkshire; a truly monstrous blot on the landscape. Necessary!, I hear you shout. Yes, of course, but let's have more of the type I saw in Wales this weekend.

Nestling on the valley floor under the shadow of Gallt y Wenallt, at 619m a foothill of its loftier neighbour Snowdon (1058m), is this delightful looking, slate built power station.

Hydro electricity has always struck me as eminently clean and suited to this country. Here, in Wales, we can see that it does not have to be intrusive at all. Surely not many people would object to something like this in their own back yard? I don't know how many of these would be needed to replace the power currently generated by Drax, but the price is worthwhile in my opinion.

Wales this weekend

Off to Wales this weekend. I intend to ascend Snowdon on Saturday; 5 am start from York. On Sunday we'll spend a pleasant time walking in the valley near our accommodation. That accommodation is an old coaching inn converted to a youth hostel; first time I've stayed in a youth hostel since the mid-nineties. Pics and a review of the youth hostel coming soon.

Latest rant - standard of English again I'm afraid.

While living in Bangkok this sort of letter was very popular with the ex-pat community. It seems I've now turned into Victor Meldrum in England too. Below is a letter published in the 'The Press' , York's answer to the Bangkok Post.

Further to the letter from Mrs A Chelton of Wednesday 6th April I write to further bemoan the falling standards of English in the UK.


I worked for 12 years or so in South East Asia, returning to England about two years ago. I have been wondering where the ability to use reported speech has gone in the intervening years. When I left people used: said, replied, asked, commented, etc. On my return It seems the whole country uses a single, all-purpose word – like. I overheard on the bus to town last week the following by way of illustration.

“I seen her do it and I'm like “Get out of here” and she's like “I know, it's good int it?”

When I left, the acceptable way to order a drink was: Can I have … ? We now appear to be extras from Friends and ask: Can I get … ?

It's not a dictionary I need, more a phrasebook. I don't know whether to blame teachers or television but I do know I don't like the new English my ears are assaulted with each day.

More to come, I have noticed several large potholes at the end of our street...

Books for Sale - New, but second-hand - why?

I live in York which is a two-university town blessed with a variety of enticing second-hand book shops. In the past I lived near Alnwick in Northumberland, the location of the largest second-hand book shop in the UK. I love books and find it difficult to let them go; some of my books have been in my possession since childhood. Others are newer acquisitions but are ‘antiquarian’ the oldest is a book of seafaring charts dated 1685. Yet others are what are termed ‘fine editions’; leather or parchment bound. Undoubtedly, the look, feel and smell of a book adds to its appeal. Therefore, although I have also begun to read Kindle editions and have an extensive audio book section on itunes, there is no substitute, in my opinion, for a well presented physical book.



Inevitably, over time books begin to gain a used ‘patina’. Further use leads to deterioration if paperback or perhaps if printed on acidic paper. This is to be avoided, in my view, for as long as possible. These aging signs are apparent in my favourite book, sadly now out of print. The book in question is entitled - ‘Somewhere down the crazy river: journeys in search of giant fish’ by Paul Boote and Jeremy Wade. My copy is now nearly 20 years old and beginning to look faded and dog-eared. I desperately want a better looking copy. I have approached one of the authors – he has a pristine hardback edition but wants more than 40 pounds for it.

With this in mind, I am at a loss to understand the growing number of publishers who are producing ‘ready aged’ books. You may have seen the sort of thing – brand new books that look like they have been to Kathmandu and back in a backpacker’s kit. I have avoided these books so far, maybe I'm missing out on good reads, but the fad seems pointless to me. Far better, surely, to have the volume age naturally in your possession, remembering each and every fold and coffee stain, not some purchased ‘street-cred’; like a pair of pre-ripped denims. I never bought a pair of them either!

Does anyone else feel this is a stupid fashion?

My wife is now a web entrepreneur

My wife has beaten me to it and set up an e-commerce website. She is offering Thai lessons: face to face, on SKYPE or through moodle. She has been teaching fun, holiday Thai based courses for a little while, but felt she could widen the scope and tap some business needs. I offered lessons in basic survival Thai to the marketing manager of the English language school I work at, who is going to Thailand soon on business and she is the first customer since the website went live.
If youd like a peek here is the URL:

 http://thaiconnection.web.officelive.com/default.aspx

Boring, but exactly what I want to say

Happy New Year to everyone who reads this blog. My number of visits crashed through 10 thousand in early December which astounded me, thanks to everyone who clicked on through. This is the first post of 2011, I have made a resolution to post at least once a week during this year.
So what will I talk about this year?
Well, here are a few things which I'm into at the moment, polymer banknotes, rocks and minerals, hillwalking (Scotland and England), European mini-breaks, cold water fishkeeping, gardening. A not- exhaustive list but some of the things I'll be touching upon. Old favorites like cycling and food will of course feature.
Here's to a prosperous New Year and keep dropping by.

Snow , snow. and more snow

Pretty it may be, but I booked Thursday and Friday as holiday to play golf for the first time in two years or so. Once again, to roughly paraphrase one Edmund Blackadder, it would seem I am forever fated to step in the cowpats of the devill's own satanic herd.
If I was to play golf at would have needed orange balls and quite possibly full mountain walking kit. Perhaps next year!

Re-visiting Glencoe this December

My favourite weekend destination used to be Glencoe. About 25 years ago I moved from Aylesbury to Glasgow so as to be nearer to mountains. I guess this must be in protest at being born in Norfolk, the flatest English county. From Glasgow it was an hour and a half to either Glencoe or the Lake District. The weather forecast would dictate if the journey was north or south.
So, after years and years in South East Asia, I felt I should re-visit the Highlands of Scotland. I've had fun planning a trip with my wife and the two girls. We have to drop someone off at Manchester airport, then we're heading north to Fort William via an overnight in Carlisle. Three days off exploring and relaxing then along the Great Glen and Loch Ness to look for Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. One day in Inverness then down to mum's for Christmas.
I'm looking forward to it and am doubly pleased I don't have to change any sterling to another currency this time. The downside is that after such a successful trip to Paris this August we are duplicating it with a group of Thai students next April.

My favourite quote

"One way is to make it so simple that there are obviously no deficiencies, and the other way is to make it so complicated that there are no obvious deficiencies."


 (C. A. R. Hoare)

I wonder which end of the continuum Bill Gates subscribes to.

What a parcel of rouges in a nation

I visited Hanoi and Ha Long bay in northern Vietnam a few years ago. The holiday was eye-opening to say the least. Vietnam is a beautiful country and full of interesting places to visit. The scenery is really quite stunning. It is with a small section of the Vietnamese population I take issue, though I wonder if it is quite as small a section as I would like to think. I have visited more than 60 countries and consider I have a traveller's radar for trouble such as pickpockets, scams, and cheats. Vietnam, however, takes dishonesty to a new plane, I was cheated and scammed by consummate professionals. I had put the annoyance of this to the back of my mind, but was reminded of the plethora of lies, cheating and all round scoundrelry of some Vietnamese during my departure from France. France was, of course, the colonial power in Vietnam or French Indochina as they called it. Many Vietnamese have dual nationality or have adopted full French citizenship.

It is therefore no surprise that our mini-bus driver from our hotel, in the 7th arrondissement, to Paris Charles de Gaulle airport was Vietnamese. He was an oily individual, reminiscent of Ugatti in 'Casablanca'. He had been pre-booked for us by the charming receptionist at our hotel. We clearly stated that we had a party of 3 adults and 2 children of 3 and 8 years old. The receptionist said the 3 year old could travel free and I heard him confirming this with the transport company on the phone. On arrival 'uncle Ho' started complaining that there were 5 people, but we had only booked 4 seats. I told him (in French for the removal of doubt) that it was not our problem and that he should speak to the hotel. He was so disconsolate about not getting any extra from me that he drove away from the hotel without shutting the rear door of the mini-bus. He kept grumbling about losing 12 Euros for the seat. He then picked up 3 more passengers (A Belgian husband and wife plus teenage son) from another hotel and off we set for the airport, with 2 seats still spare. After a few kilometres he had thought of another way to cheat us. He tried to extract 2 Euros per head from his passengers, which he said was payable to the airport authority to enter the terminal area and drop people off. Both the Belgian man and myself told him in French that he could forget it and I was impolite in Vietnamese to him. He then resigned himself to finishing the journey and we heard no more from him. Needless to say, he got no tip from either party.

I would like to think that this was a one off but I fear it was not. Has anyone else had similar experience with Vietnamese people?

Why oh why won't the UK adopt the Euro?

I have just returned from a short trip to Paris. Apart from the fact that it rained for the first few days; not just showers - real torrential, monsoon-like, rain for 3 days non-stop, it was quite an enjoyable trip.

The main annoyance was the extortionate rate of exchange and commission charge to rub salt into the wound. I had to laugh when I saw a poster inviting me to change back my costly Euros to Sterling. No thanks, I'll be keeping them in a shoebox until next time. What about the lost interest? I hear you cry. Not worth bothering about these days, but that's another story.

It was a slow day down by the river

It was a slow day down by the river; at first he didn’t see them

Content to feel the breeze fan off the cool clear water

Presently, from the corner of his eye he spied a glint of copper

Next, gold, then, bronze and myriad, as yet unnamed, metallic hues

Ranks of shimmering fish, each the brother to one another

Yet all unique, no two of like metallic sheen and glint

It was a slow day down by the river; and then he didn’t see them

(Written in response to a challenge by a colleague.)