Something the pandemic has shown us is that increasingly people are turning (or re-turning) to nature for inspiration and sustenance at a difficult time. At a different and much broader global scale, nature is taking a more centre stage as countries come together to address the twin crises of biodiversity loss and climate change – the recent G7 meeting and the Climate Change Conference of the Parties (COP26) hosted by the UK in Glasgow in November, are examples of this.
The pandemic has caused a big drive on gardening, and we have jumped on this bandwagon willingly. Our focus has been to try and make a wildflower meadow. Native wildflower grasslands have been lost across England at an alarming rate over the past three or four decades with only 2% of this important wildlife habitat remaining. These places are important not just for the flowers, but also for the pollinating insects they support, and a wide variety of other flora and fauna. They are mini-ecosystems too, offering us a range of services for ‘free’ – capturing carbon, retaining water, improving the soil, not to mention inspiration for art in all its forms.
Our little meadow is in its early stages – its first year in fact. In November 2019 we began to clear deeply rooted scrub, keeping some for habitat mosaic and heterogeneity. In October 2020, (with the help of Sarah and Seth Lord of Native Gardens) wildflower seed, of East Anglian provenance, was sown, and by June it was looking gorgeous with a beautiful range of annual flowers as a nursery crop for the later mix of perennial herbs and sensitive grasses that we are hoping for next year. We have experienced a sea of colour, starting with poppies (red), moving to corn chamomile (white), then cornflower (blue) and finally corn cockle (pink) and corn marigold (yellow). The meadow is bounded by a (failing) hedge of Holly on one side – not all our efforts work at first – and a beech hedge separating us from our neighbours.
The results, so far, are not just about looking nice. We have monitored the wildlife that is using our space, and we use a light-trap to catch moths overnight and identify them the next day before letting them go unharmed – moth diversity is already increasing.
The video below shows the changes we have witnessed over the year. The musical accompaniment is by The Fitzwilliam String Quartet together with Lesley Schatzberger.
With restrictions easing and in need of a change of scene, we looked at destinations where both our interests could be satisfied – birds for him and hills for me. Of course over the years these interests have melded and while I am far from an accomplished birder and he sometimes prefers to sit (in a northerly gale sea-watching), it is not generally hard for us reach agreement. The Uists became our favoured choice, we found a place to stay and booked the ferry crossing. Neither were trouble free. We travelled North stopping for lunch at Low Newton-by-sea and then overnight with friends in Edinburgh. The next leg of our journey took us to a hill side off the river Dee and from there, because of a change in the CalMac time table (a regular feature of their service) we left a day early for Oban and the spectacular 7 hour sea crossing to Lochboisdale. Our return was similarly stepwise, stopping for a lovely lunch with friends in Doune and then overnight with other friends in Edinburgh. We had not realised quite how much we had missed the proximity of others. Being able to scan someone else’s bookshelf, stand at another’s kitchen counter, sit and chat in a different living room or garden, is transformational!
The view of Beinn Mhòr from our rented house at Staoinebrig, S. Uist. The garden went all the way to the water and included a rusty old beat up car complete with what looked like bullet holes!
An evening stroll from the house, to the accompaniment of at least two Corncrakes! They make a distinctive noise, like drawing a stick over a hard comb, twice in succession. We made way for a ginger haired shepherd, his flock and sheep dogs. The crofts, cars and other debris in the back ground are typical of the island.
Our local beach, at the Bornais end, was teeming with waders: sanderling; turnstones; and dunlin. Along with the rusting cars, old fridges and abandoned farm equipment, there were other equally powerful remnants of the island’s habitants, including the washed up remains of a whale. A fine resting place if ever there was one!
We did a wonderful walk around the island of Berneray, black skies in sharp contrast with the white sand beaches. On the north eastern corner lies a cemetery. Marked only by stones, are the graves of commonwealth soldiers. I have not been able to find out why these burials happened here or who lies beneath. Would families members know, were they told? Unrecognised people in the ground of a foreign land for which, willingly or otherwise, they had given their lives. For these poor souls, while incredibly beautiful, this probably cannot be considered a fine resting place.
From our house we could see Beinn Mhòr, the highest peak on the outer Hebrides. We waited for the best weather to climb her. It was touch and go. There are no foot paths. It would be very easy to get lost in cloud, the mountainside can disappear in seconds. The route to the top follows an arrete which caused an attack of vertigo in one of us!
On the north west side of N. Uist lies the island of Vallay, which is accessible in fair weather at low tide. The island is awash with wild flowers. Its western side has spectacular beaches perfect for a picnic and swim! But the interior is disappointing, filled as it is with cattle and all the paraphernalia that comes with farming – barbed and electric fences, plastic silage bags and unnatural ‘improved’ grassland where Machair should be, a rare and delicate grass growing on shell sand. At least the farming is not as intensive as it could be, but no doubt it impacts on wildlife and habitat. Facing the main land on the south coast lies the ruin of a large house once lived in by textile factory owner Erskine Beveridge. We spent some time trying to see the Corncrakes we could hear rasping close by. On crossing a barbed fence at a broken down style, I got a whopping electric shock that hurled me to the ground. The wire was not marked as live. Walking in the Outer Hebrides is clearly not encouraged, live wires, broken styles, no footpaths. Perhaps this keeps the place free of too many tourists. We saw no other people on this day.
Loch Aineort lies in a spectacular valley at the foot of Beinn Mhòr, just the other side of the ‘main road’ from where we were staying. We had been alerted to it by a birder we met on the beach at Berneray. At the end of the road, the land owner has planted a garden which has matured over the years and, unusually, has an array of welcoming footpaths! We returned to this place a number of times, firstly to spot otters and subsequently to walk and to sit, brew up and enjoy the spectacular scenery.
One wet afternoon we stopped on the road side, threatening clouds meant we did not wander too far from the car. We dropped down on the beach at Stinky Bay on Benbecula, and sat for some time watching waders at very close range, they appeared totally undisturbed by our presence.
On our last day, under a blanket of thick cloud, we drove south and over the bridge to Eriskay. We stopped for lunch at Am Politician, wishing that ours could do better. After an excellent meal of hand caught scallops for one and battered monk fish for the other, we set off walking around the bay. It began to warm and clear. Eriskay has a very different feel to S. Uist. It appears almost touristy, with upmarket accommodation, some remarkable and others a disgrace!
We spotted something that looked a bit like a foot path but of course turned out not to be, and then followed our noses through bog and bush to the high point of the island. Views from the top of the shallow waters between the islands were sublime.
The village shop did not have any Magnums, so clearly Eriskay is not that touristy after-all!
St Bees, in Cumbria to Reeth in Yorkshire over 7 days
Day 0 Oct 10 2020
We journeyed by train to St Bees. From Cambridge to London with an overnight at Highbury Quadrant, then together with my son Fabian, the 07:10 train from Euston via Carlisle. The trains were empty. Everyone masked. On the line south from Carlisle our carriage suddenly filled. A group of men sat in the seats opposite, in front and behind us even though there was lots of space on the train. The nearest asked if he we minded if he ate his toast, pulling down his mask before we had responded. Others were drinking beer. We decided to move carriage causing an uncomfortable exchange. The term ‘social distancing’ has so many connotations. It was clear to them that we were from elsewhere and on holiday, and in that moment, I felt socially distant to those men for more reasons than one. Once settled in our new seats, we enjoyed the views over the Irish sea, as we cruised along the coast passing Flimby, Workington and Whitehaven.
We dropped our bags at The Queen’s Hotel and walked to the beach, picked up pebbles as tradition dictates when commencing this path, then walked up and around St Bees Head visiting the inlet with red sandstone rocks, all the new RSPB cliff-top lookout points, although the nesting Guillemots, Razorbills, Fulmars, Kittiwakes and other sea birds had long since departed. Then we headed back to the hotel, via Sandwith, over the fields. We had supper in the bar – lasagne with a side order of chips. We were both totally wiped and slept soundly.
Day 1, Oct 11 2020 – destination Ennerdale Bridge, 25km (map below is incomplete as we did not switch on Strava until our breakfast stop) .
We departed early, with a packed breakfast, in order to catch the sun rise. We walked adjacent to the railway, across St Bees school grounds and eventually under the railway to pick up the official trail. We took a detour to walk along a disused railway line, now a cycle path and stopped for breakfast in a sunny spot. Fabian fired up the cooker and made coffee. Runners, cyclists and dog walkers passed by in both directions. Then it was through fields and up onto Dent, with good views back to the coast, and then gently down the other side into a lovely valley with a babbling brook. We wended our way this way and that over little bridges then through a gate, stopping for lunch on a rocky outcrop above the path. Sunday walkers and all-terrain bikers stopped to chat. Then a short walk up onto a road and down into Ennerdale Bridge. We stayed at Thorntrees. We were booked into the Fox and Hounds Inn for the evening meal. We had the special -lamb shank and mash. This sounded good in principle. Certainly, we could not complain about the size of the portions.
Day 2, Oct 12 2020 – destination Seatoller (Borrowdale) 24.33km
The day started dry but it was raining by the time we left. We met Dave Heath, another C2C walker, at breakfast (see his videos on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0Np6p9bX0GZzF-5yVrUk7w). He was walking on his own, carrying all his belongings for the full journey across. We swapped phone numbers, just in case either party needed help. By the time we arrived at Ennerdale lake the rain was lashing down which made the walking tough and the path a rocky stream. Ennerdale is a re-wilded valley but this was hard to appreciate in the conditions. We squelched our way across the valley and onto a forest road, heading for the Youth Hostel where we thought we could shelter and have lunch. It was closed. We back tracked to the ‘field centre’. A bunk house and some barns. Someone gave us access to one of the barns. We fired up our cooker for tea, munched sandwiches and hit the trail again, up the valley and out onto to the moor. We passed another really lovely youth hostel, but this too was closed, having been booked by a private group. Up into the cloud we trudged, more rain pelted down on us. We found ourselves on the wrong side of a stream bush whacking. We realised our error and crossed the stream and found ourselves on a much better path with steps all the way. At the top, we were greeted by the local (Herdwick) sheep, and a vast emptiness, a distant open cast mine to the left. Haystack Rocks were blanketed by cloud. A blast of wind sliced into the gap between my back and pack, chilling my spine. We kept moving, now downwards, eventually to a very steep and slippery path to Honister Hause and the green slate mine, in torrential rain. We stopped here for a few minutes, but my mask eluded me, hidden in one of countless pockets, so I remained dripping wet and cold outside whilst Fabian enjoyed a solitary banana in the relative comfort of the visitor centre foyer. We walked down a path alongside the road to Seatoller and Glaramara House Hotel, with a little hiccough near the end because one of us failed to read the instructions properly.
After a luxurious shower, we joined others, far smarter than we, in the dinning room and enjoyed a good meal. Back in our room, we managed to wash clothes and lay them out to dry. Unfortunately, my phone, which had been in my anorak, had got wet. I tried to dry it on a radiator overnight. In the morning it lit up, but the keyboard had a mind of its own, opening and closing apps, sending random gibberish texts to who knows whom and generally taking the piss. The screen displayed ghostly patches. I switched it off. I could do without. Even if there had been signal, Dave Heath would not have been able to contact us should an emergency have arisen.
Day 3, Oct 12 2020 – destination Patterdale 25.7km
Again, we were unable to get an early breakfast, so we made a late start. The weather was fairly ok. We by passed Rosthwaite and re-joined the path at Stonethwaite Fell. We walked up into the clouds. It was quite misty as we crossed Greenup Edge. On the other side we took a detour which we hoped would buy us time, but almost certainly did not. We took a left turn walking via Middle How along the Wyth Burn. There was a clear path on the map, but it was non-existent on the ground. The centre of the valley is aptly labelled The Bog. There was a cold wind funnelling up the valley and we could not find shelter. So, it was a quick stop for lunch in the lee of a rock, and then off again, hard walking over thick tussock grass, rushes and reeds trying to keep our feet dry. Eventually we came out under the cloud and we got a bit of sun, wonderful autumn colours, a rainbow and views over Thirlmere. Then we navigated our way around the corner scrambling over a dry stone wall, up a cycle path along the Pass of Dunmail Raise, and then onto a well-marked foot path following Raise Beck to the eastern side of Grisedale tarn. As we climbed, the wind got up and there were massive gusts, full frontal. At the tarn, the water was inky black with white horses. The wind scooped up the water and it swirled like a tornado up into the air and up the valley. A small tent was pitched at the water side, right in the stream of airborne water twisters. We marched around the valley, hatches battened, and followed the rocky path down to Patterdale. On our way to Old Water View BnB we passed the pub where we planned to eat that evening only to discover that it was chef’s night off. So we took a cab (£12 for 2 miles) to Glenridding, where we had a pretty decent meal in the Patterdale Hotel.
Day 4, Oct 13 2020 – Patterdale to Shap 28.68km
We had given up trying to convince any of the hostelries to provide an early breakfast, so we went with the flow. It looked to be a fine day, so we were less bothered about a late departure. However, this lack of concern would come back to haunt us. As we were leaving, our host informed us that Margaret from Brookfield in Shap, our next stop, had been trying to contact us. There had been an outbreak of Covid at the pub so her advice was to pick up fish and chips and eat them in her dining room. The C2C grapevine was working like clock work!
We climbed out of Patterdale with the clouds lifting and wonderful low, golden autumn light. We stopped for a coffee break by Angletarn, dodging the bog to get to the rocks jutting out into the water. Then we followed the path up towards High Street and took a detour to High Raise, the highest point on the C2C.
Views were terrific and weather too! We knew we had a long way to go to reach Shap but the people at Patterdale had led us to believe that the path along the north side of Haweswater was good, so we reckoned we could march it out. The path was good, in that it was easy to follow, but it was definitely NOT a marching out sort of a path. At the other end of the lake, it was worse. We still had miles to go and we had a sinking feeling that we would not make it to Shap before dark. We picked up pace, but it was hard going. The path was poorly marked or not marked at all, and deep mud, sculpted by grazing cattle, slowed progress further. It was beautiful by the river but there was little time to enjoy it. Eventually we left the river behind, and climbed up a field. We were harried by some cattle so crossed a fence on a style and continued on rough ground arriving at Rossgill as the sun was dipping. We were concerned that it would be darker still if we followed the official C2C route through the valley, so we crossed the bridge into the village and took a public footpath, tucked away between the houses and then across fields hoping it would be mud free and easy to follow. With the help of google maps, we eventually hit a road and decided to walk the rest of the way on hard ground. It was now pouring with rain and dark. We found the Shap chippy, with just 20 minutes spare before they closed. We still had just over another-very-long-wet mile to Margaret’s at Brookfield. On arrival, we peeled off our wet kit, stuffed our boots with newspaper and stepped into the other world that is her house. We disappeared up the stairs to wash. When we came down, Margaret had laid us a lovely table with hot plates, condiments, napkins, a steaming tea pot, cups and saucers. Magic! She also provided me with a bag full of rice to help rescue my phone. We slept very well that night. She had beautiful bed linen and very comfortable beds.
Day 5 Oct 14 2020 – Shap to Kirkby Steven 33km
After the best breakfast so far, (lovely fresh fruit salad, creamy porridge, toast, coffee) with no single use plastics, we set off in reasonable weather, a little misty, on the long haul to Kirkby Stevens. Should we have taken a day off to rest before this next marathon? We had not considered days off when we booked the holiday, and it never occurred to us to take a cab. We gritted our teeth and set off. The prospect of another mad dash in the dark at the other end of the day did not appeal, so we decided to keep close eye on the time and our pace. Margaret had packed a superb lunch. Fresh salmon sandwiches, cherry tomatoes and lettuce leaves on the side, buttered tea bread and a thick piece of cheese, also fruit cake. We kept the last treat for the final few kilometres of the day, a lovely almond tart. This was surely the day when we would need the extra calories and luckily, we had them.
It was a spectacular walking day. Massive open spaces, limestone walls, much, much drier under foot. We got into Kirkby Stevens just as dark was falling. On a bench in the high street we took off our muddy over trousers and spruced ourselves up before heading to The Mango Tree for a typical Yorkshire Indian. Great choice, fantastic meal and a nice change from pub fare. We then staggered back up the road to Lockholme where we were hosted by the wonderful Chrissie, a runner with many medals. Home bakes and tea rounded off a terrific day.
Day 6, Oct 15 2020 – Kirkby Steven to Keld 19km – via bog knows where
Over another lovely breakfast, with home made marmalade, Chrissie informed us that on a good day, the 9 Standards Rigg could be seen from her dining room window. We peered out imagining the view through the thick, low cloud. The days walk started with a stroll back down the high street. We stopped at the camping shop. My feet were not in good shape. New socks for us both and a blister kit were purchased. We put them on in the shop and took off again, through back streets then out along a stream and eventually up a small road passed a quarry, towards the grim, cloud-cloaked moor. The path became steeper, blacker and boggier. The erosion was stark. It is no surprise that there are now three routes across this stretch of ground, an attempt to preserve the precious peat bog. We passed the Standards in the rain. Off to our left was a line of beaters, driving petrified grouse towards blokes in tweeds with guns. Everywhere on the ground were little piles of grouse poo, a good indicator of the millions of birds that are reared here for the shooting industry. The path became hard to navigate let alone traverse. Large chasms in the surface peat, tens of metres wide and deep, cut down to the thick gluey mud, broken up with streams. Further along was a flag-stone floating pavement, which made the going much easier, however it was not long before we were back at the mercy of the bog. Small posts marked the trail but, in many instances, these had sunk into the ground. Had the cloud been lower still, we would not have spotted them and would have been quite lost. Our lunch was a standing stop, it was too wet to sit down. Eventually we came down to a winding stream. Along this next bit of path, were snare traps, and sign posts about protecting ground nesting birds – the super abundant red grouse. One day this ‘sport’ will come to an end, the balance of the ecosystem will recover, sphagnum moss will rejuvenate, more carbon will be sequestered than released, the water holding capacity will rise, native wild birds and mammals will flourish and the driven grouse shooters will switch their focus to nurturing native wildlife and with any luck, the health and well being of all!
On the road down to Keld, we met a young lad getting off a bus. He was in school uniform and was walking up the rough track in his school shoes with laces flapping. He travelled 1.5 hours in each direction for school, then had to climb the steep path to his moorland home, be it in sunshine, wind, rain, snow and darkness. I told him that he did not know how lucky he was. He gave a rye smile but probably thought I was barking mad! We arrived at Keld shortly after 5pm. A short day in comparison to the previous few, but for me, one of the toughest, bleeding blisters, and water logged boots did not help. We had a very warm welcome at Butt House by Jacqui and Chris. They impressed us with their super high tech boot driers. Supper was served in their front room and shared with two other sets of visitors, one of which was was a pin hole camera enthusiast. We were the last Coast to Coasters of the season.
Day 7, Oct 16 2020 – Keld to Reeth
We decided at the very last minute to take the valley route through Swaledale rather than spend yet another day on the tops in cloud. While our boots were dry and warm, having been dried to a crisp over night, they had shrunk and it took best part of an hour before I was able to walk properly and forget the pain of the soft broken tissue on my heels! Fortunately, the valley was lovely, lush green with beautiful golden autumn colours, sheep fields, dry stone walls, Cowuss’s and yes, loads of styles! Some were very narrow, forcing us to take off our packs to get through. Clearly this route would be prohibitive to anyone a bit broader than I!
We were met at Reeth by my partner, Andy, and celebrated the the completion of half the Coast to Coast walk, with a wonderful meal at The Burgoyne. The following morning after a quick tour of the village and purchasing of beautiful woollen socks at Dragon Ridge Hills, we folded our bodies into the car for the long drive south. We dropped Fabian at Kings Lynne for his onward journey to London (and tier two) and we headed to the north Norfolk coast to catch a momentary glimpse of a Rufus Bush Chat, at Stiffkey. A great end to a great holiday.
Having really got into running last year, I fell out of swimming and cycling. But I will try and get back in the saddle and into the pool. I know I will find this hard.
I will do a weekly yoga class.
I will do exercises to increase strength in my feet and calf muscles, for instance by lifting up from my toes on stairs and standing on one leg, keeping it strong and closing my eyes!
Most importantly, to keep my mind in the game and also keep up with weight baring exercise, the therapist suggested that I get out for very short gentle runs. Just as far as I can go until I feel the tightness. She also recommended using the steps up Castle Mound.
So today, I turned right out of my front door and nipped up to the Castle. I went up and down the steps twice. It felt good. It was beautifully frosty on top. I then came down Castle Street, over the bridge, along the board walk. I ran the length of Park Parade with nice relaxed shoulders, and then turned left into Jesus Green. But that is where I had to stop. Not brilliant by any means but I am not crippled. I can still walk! Hopefully in the next couple of weeks, I can gradually increase the distance. Hopefully by March 8, just over 6 weeks time, I will be able run the Cambridge half. And if I can’t, I just have to walk it.
Please consider sponsoring me! I’m raising money for The Red Hen Project, supporting children and their families in north Cambridge, to help them thrive, get the most from their education, and lead happy healthy for-filling lives.
Michael Cahn stepped off the red eye from LA, spent the day in his bookshop then cycled to our house looking somewhat dishevelled. He earned his keep last year by sponsoring us to do a triathlon in aid of the Campaign for Female Education. Little did he know what we had in store for him on this visit.
After the death of my father, and my mother’s move to a care home in Cambridge, my sister and I began the task of clearing our family home. Amongst the myriad of possessions were some 200 copies of a book – The Gomperz Family originally published in 1907. The work was started by the historian Dr David Kaufmann and completed after his death by his colleague Dr Max Freudenthal. Kaufmann was the son-in-law of Rosa Gomperz who lived in Vienna. The book traces the history of the Gomper/t/s/z family from the time of their earliest settlement in Germany in around 1550 and follows their diaspora over three centuries from Berlin, Frankfurt, Metz, Vienna, Prague, Holland and England.
My father, Bastien, was made aware of this book by David Gompertz, a colleague at University College London. It was written in academic German and since neither of them were German speakers, they arranged for a couple of the chapters to be translated. It became apparent that this was a significant work concerning not just a history of a family, but a history more broadly, of the Jews of northern Europe. Such an extensive genealogy going back so far and so wide is very unusual. What is more, only a hand full of copies of the original survived the second world war. So it was an important task to have it translated into accessible English, printed and made available once more. Bernard Standring (Centre for European Languages and Cultures, University of Birmingham) undertook the translation as a retirement project and Bastien, who was so impressed and excited by the text, personally funded the publication which rolled off the press in 2003.
At this time, the internet had grown to a sufficient size to make searching for Gomperz family members a profitable task. Bastien set about contacting as many as he could and he invited them all to our house in London to launch the book.
The book is an academic treatise on the first court Jews of Northern Europe. In addition to being a detailed genealogical history of a family, it is also a considered history of perilous but extraordinary Jewish achievement in relation to land, money and royal power. The Gomperz family also later played a significant role in the Jewish enlightenment, indeed Bastien was chuffed to learn that he was a cousin, seven times removed of no less than Felix Mendelssohn! The modern family were largely wiped out of Holland and Germany by Hitler. David Gomperts, Bastien and Earnest Gompertz, who knows most about Gomperz genealogy today in Holland, added illustrations including photographs of the later Dutch Gompertz family members who carried the name from the 19th into the 20th Century.
Natasha and I are now looking to disperse the book. Our friendly book seller offered, with out persuasion, to handle the distribution via Plurabelle. We are selling the books for £24 plus postage and packaging. £12 of this will be donated to Safe Passage, a charity that provides legal routes to sanctuary to refugees.
We did it! Three of us braved the cold water of Jesus Green Lido where the temperature was literally off the scale. The others took their plunge at Parkside.
We all met on Jesus Green for the bike ride up the river to Clayhithe and back. One of us broke down. Wonderful Paul, who was bringing up the rear, fixed the puncture in a flash, and the race went on.
Andy stormed in first…closely followed by Mary
Then Laure, then Sophie who made it through despite the puncture!
Tilly hands out personalised medals
We convened at Stir for brunch and chat, feeling very pleased with ourselves. We then collapsed for a few hours before rocking up to The Carpenters for a lively evening with music from OneStop, beer and pizza’s, and more fund raising. The pub was packed out. It was great to see so many many friends.
We are grateful to all our helpers and contributors:
For training and help on race day:Tilly, Tom, Juliet, Paul, Ian, Doug, and Chrissie and the team from Camfed.
Our band, OneStop aka Andrew and Pete for playing their hearts out.
All those who made donations to help girls in Africa get to school!
To date, we have made £5,615, and with gift aid, £6,433.26, from 82 donors. This is enough to send almost 36 girls to school for one year. How about we help these girls get to school for TWO years? Please join us at the Carpenters Arms on December 7 at 7pm to plan our next steps and enter the prize raffle! All proceeds to Campaign for Female Education. If you cannot make it but would like to make a donation, please do so here.
Turning 54 in March this year led me to consider a gift to self. Having had a couple of rounds of chemotherapy and 6 weeks of daily radiotherapy not so long before, I was pretty pleased to be still standing. There was a moment when I thought I might perish before my severely demented mother, but fortunately that bit of life’s order was not disrupted.
Getting on with living
A year on, I was still suffering aches and pains and could not decide if this was just aging or a consequence of my treatment or both. My consultant told me in no uncertain terms to stop worrying and get on with living. With this push, I decided that for my 55th year I would support a charity that gave life to others. I decided on Camfed, The Campaign for Female Education, a Cambridge based charity, now in its 25th year, that enables girls in Africa to go to school. Going to school means escaping childhood wedlock, teenage pregnancy and offers a world of possibility including potentially, much happiness. Since 1993, Camfed’s innovative education programs in Zimbabwe, Zambia, Ghana, Tanzania and Malawi have directly supported more than 2.6 million students to attend primary and secondary school, and more than 5 million children have benefited from an improved learning environment. £180 enables one girl to go to school for one year. My gift was made. But what about supporting a few more?
You cannot just ask all your friends for money, my daughter told me, you have to DO something. So I decided to do a ‘sprint’ triathlon – 750m swim, 20km cycle followed by 5km run. I engaged a few friends and we set a target of £4000 to raise, support for 22 girls. Our event will take place on 22 September starting around 11:30 at Jesus Green Lido. In the evening, we will gather at the Carpenters Arms on Victoria Road for live music by One Stop (aka Pete Mitchell and Andrew Sugden) beer and pizzas. All are welcome to join and contribute to the gift of life!
If you would like to make a donation to our fund raising campaign please follow this LINK and click on the blue donate button in the middle of the page.
June/July is that time of year when a handful of old time Cambridge city dwellers find ourselves playing host to Michael Cahn who moved, a few years ago, to live in California.
I first met Micheal some 21 years ago when he was collecting his 2 year old daughter from our local nursery. He was holding her tightly in one arm to keep her from wriggling and he stretched out the other, being most insistent that he take my son home for the rest of the afternoon so the two children could play. And there began a long and rich friendship between our families.
It was around this time that Michael began book collecting and founded Plurabelle Books, a second hand internet bookshop. The ‘shop’ has moved several times around the city but is now located in a warehouse by the railway off Coldhams Lane, in the company of CamCabs, Hilary’s, the vegetable whole saler, The Centre for Computing History, The Belfast Bed Super Store and St. Barnabas Press.
The Plurabelle website indicates that the shop ‘has books you don’t need in a place you can’t find’! The statement is not quite true, but it s not quite false either. Having recently cleared a large west London house that was stacked to the rafters with stuff, a household where everything, from beads, to bones and of course books were collected and carefully stored and certainly never thrown out, there was something quite reassuring in visiting this ramshackle warehouse of past loved, past studied and cherished books. A short bike ride from the centre of town, you won’t be disappointed in the reception you will receive, especially if the book seller is in town.
In September 2015 I joined a bunch of top birders on a trip to Fair Isle. There were eight of them and me.
‘I cannot think of anything worse’ is what my daughter said.
Needless to say, I had a fabulous time and so, I believe, did they!
Below is a selection of photos from the trip.
Torness, on the road up.
Overnight ferry to Shetland
My flight onto Fair Isle was a day later than the rest of the team. I spent a very comfortable night with Rebecca Nason at her B&B in down town Lerwick. Rebecca is an extraordinary photographer and naturalist. I loved her house, brimming with fine things including a delightful collection of bird bones and bills!
Fair Isle, Church of Scotland
View of Sheep Rock from Bu Ness
Bu Ness, whale tale.
Hunting for petrified fish having dipped on the Thick Billed Warbler found at Quendale the evening before. This rarity pulled all the local birders and left an audience of may be 4, plus the 8 of us for the Shetland bird club talk that 2 of our team were due give.
The bird of the trip was Yellow-browed Warbler. On 21 September 53 birds were seen and 12 were ringed. These birds, weighing just 5g, are likely to have travelled from the Urals, 3-3.5,000 miles away, to winter in Britain.
Fair Isle’s roads are lined with Angelica, a kind of wild celery. Their flowers are host to numerous insects that Yellow-browed warbler’s find utterly irresistible after their long flight. The photo below was taken by Andy Mason.