'Mandy from the Dan' has been to visit, and my liver may never be the same...
We knew she was in England, and had made vague promises to have her come stay, but suddenly, there she was. Mandy's not a touristy kinda lass, but she's one helluva muso. Nights at The X, the Folly, the Oxford Folk Club and less musical-but-very-gorgeous venues (The Turf, Eagle and Child etc) followed. Somehow, (okay, never really a surprise) we always ended up locked in at the Half Moon...
Somehow, I made it into work each day. By Saturday, all we could do was sleep.
But how proud were we - Mandy has finally put her awesome talent into an album - and we have a copy!!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Feeling funny when friends go home
Two friends - Emma and Yvonne - who I worked with in Melbourne and who have been here since before I arrived, are going home. It sounds a bit sooky (specially given that we spent more time talking about how we 'must catch up' than actually doing it) but I'm going to miss those girls.
We managed to hook up for one final dinner at an awesome middle eastern place in Paddington, just streets away from the red-bedecked hotel room at the top of some rickety stairs that the blokey and I shared when he first came to England. It looked like it had once been a bordello... Yet I could never afford here unless I were a millionaire. That's Paddington - elegant but vibrant. Classy yet cool. Loaded with pubs with ornate plaster ceilings, Victorian wallpaper, and chandeliers. And an easy place for the girls and I to get to after work.
After the tediousness of office politics and the reticence of so many English folk, it feels so good to just hangout with fellow Aussies and know that we all find the same things a bit weird about England: people not making eye contact on the Tube, or not understanding why old stuff is cool cos they're surrounded by it all the time - and don't get me started on the whole 'breasts as public property' attitude, and sexism generally!
We talked non-stop for hours, in that way that only Aussies can, trading gossip, half remembered travel tales and news from friends at home, all at once. Even on the way home, we hovered at the entrance to Paddington tube, trying to squeeze in that last story, anecdote, juicy detail. For 40 minutes of it (coulda had a pint - but nevermind!)
Knowing that they're going has shaken me from complacency a bit. When it's our turn to head home, will we have done everything we've wanted to? That day feels a long way off right now - but what if something changed? Life has felt rather 'heads down, bums up' over the past few months, and there's definitely a difference between 'travelling here' for a year, and living here. Time to pull my head out of my routine a*se, I realise. Suddenly, I feel a fog lifting, bringing half-forgotten plans for travel, learning and sightseeing into crisp focus. That's more like it!
I pondered this all the way down to Hyde Park, where I'd catch the bus back to Oxford. I still wouldn't live in London, but her buzz tonight has given me much to think about.
We managed to hook up for one final dinner at an awesome middle eastern place in Paddington, just streets away from the red-bedecked hotel room at the top of some rickety stairs that the blokey and I shared when he first came to England. It looked like it had once been a bordello... Yet I could never afford here unless I were a millionaire. That's Paddington - elegant but vibrant. Classy yet cool. Loaded with pubs with ornate plaster ceilings, Victorian wallpaper, and chandeliers. And an easy place for the girls and I to get to after work.
After the tediousness of office politics and the reticence of so many English folk, it feels so good to just hangout with fellow Aussies and know that we all find the same things a bit weird about England: people not making eye contact on the Tube, or not understanding why old stuff is cool cos they're surrounded by it all the time - and don't get me started on the whole 'breasts as public property' attitude, and sexism generally!
We talked non-stop for hours, in that way that only Aussies can, trading gossip, half remembered travel tales and news from friends at home, all at once. Even on the way home, we hovered at the entrance to Paddington tube, trying to squeeze in that last story, anecdote, juicy detail. For 40 minutes of it (coulda had a pint - but nevermind!)
Knowing that they're going has shaken me from complacency a bit. When it's our turn to head home, will we have done everything we've wanted to? That day feels a long way off right now - but what if something changed? Life has felt rather 'heads down, bums up' over the past few months, and there's definitely a difference between 'travelling here' for a year, and living here. Time to pull my head out of my routine a*se, I realise. Suddenly, I feel a fog lifting, bringing half-forgotten plans for travel, learning and sightseeing into crisp focus. That's more like it!
I pondered this all the way down to Hyde Park, where I'd catch the bus back to Oxford. I still wouldn't live in London, but her buzz tonight has given me much to think about.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Tales from Eynsham village
I spent most of my first year here thinking sleepy wee Eynsham only had 3 pubs. Actually, there are nine.
From the White Hart - built in 1366 or maybe earlier, and formerly a courthouse - to the Red Lion (previously aka The Angel and a good place for cockfights, it's the oldest continuously operating pub in the village), you can read all about them on the web.
There used to be more - thirty, in fact. - which surprised me. From the Black Horse (last heard of in 1674) to the Green Dragon (which probably stood where the local store now stands - right between the Jolly Sportsman and the Red Lion, just up from The Swan).
Eynsham's humble origins, I've learned (courtesy of http://www.eynsham.org/) date back to the founding of a massive Abbey in 1005, by the esteemed local scholar, Aelfric. However, apparently the monks all ran away when the Normans fronted up in 1066 and 67, not returning to finish the job til 1109. In its day though, Eynsham was bigger than Oxford.
If one goes back further in time, local archaeology digs have unearthed mammoth bones, and even a stone causeway (a very early road), that is at least 4000 years old. In sleepy old Eynsham.
Who'd a guessed?
From the White Hart - built in 1366 or maybe earlier, and formerly a courthouse - to the Red Lion (previously aka The Angel and a good place for cockfights, it's the oldest continuously operating pub in the village), you can read all about them on the web.
There used to be more - thirty, in fact. - which surprised me. From the Black Horse (last heard of in 1674) to the Green Dragon (which probably stood where the local store now stands - right between the Jolly Sportsman and the Red Lion, just up from The Swan).
Eynsham's humble origins, I've learned (courtesy of http://www.eynsham.org/) date back to the founding of a massive Abbey in 1005, by the esteemed local scholar, Aelfric. However, apparently the monks all ran away when the Normans fronted up in 1066 and 67, not returning to finish the job til 1109. In its day though, Eynsham was bigger than Oxford.
If one goes back further in time, local archaeology digs have unearthed mammoth bones, and even a stone causeway (a very early road), that is at least 4000 years old. In sleepy old Eynsham.
Who'd a guessed?
Saturday, June 16, 2007
My Brother Justin
Through all the goings on over the past couple of months, the biggest thing in my life right now has been the one thing I haven't been prepared to share online.
Many people will know that I have a very special younger brother named Justin, who was born with a host of physical and intellectual challenges, yet has in his 31 years defied all prognoses and expectations to become a strong, caring and independent chappy whom we all adore.
Jus as a baby underwent open heart surgery in New Zealand, and we've known ever since that one day he'd need further work. What we didn't know was that when his body needed attention, it would let us know by making him very sick very quickly. My cousin, who is a nurse, said that "it was literally as if someone flicked a switch in J's chest and he's gone downhill ever since". He passed out at college back in late March/early April and tests quickly showed that the heart valve replacement we'd dreaded was suddenly on the cards, along with a range of other repairs. Within weeks his doctor banned him from college and using public transport and even a simple flight of stairs was sometimes too much. It seemed that every test result brought more disconcerting news.
We were all extremely anxious - and for my other brother, in Japan, and me, being so far away from home was just the pitts. The day we heard that a date was set for surgery, and that his surgeon was a chap with excellent credentials, who specialised in 'dodgy hearts that've been fixed before and need more work', I sat at my keyboard and sobbed with relief.
So Jus had surgery on June 4 (small preparatory thing, which didn't actually go to plan, and freaked us out all over again), followed by 'the big one' on the 12th. To date, it seems to have gone REALLY well. He was out of intensive care after less than 2 days, half a day ahead of schedule, and has continued to come on in leaps and bounds.
I spoke to him for the first time yesterday, and he was pretty dopey, but morphine will do that - and after open heart surgery, morph or similar is in much demand!! He'll be in hospital for much of next week, then home to Mums to recuperate some more. If all goes well he'll be back at TAFE (college) within 3 months.
I'm amazed at what doctors can do to patch up bodies that weren't quite put together according to the manual. For the record, Dr TH Goh (J's cardiologist since he was a baby) and his surgeon, Mr Peter Skillington, deserve medals, along with all the nursing staff at Epworth Hospital, Melbourne.
Just as awe-inspiring is Justin's courage - he's managed to stay incredibly strong and upbeat, even when some of his test results were pretty awful and so much was uncertain. The day he told me he was "okay, but a bit nervous, because I know that something might go wrong and I might die" near broke my heart.
Those days already seem a distant memory and we look forward to more good news in the coming days and weeks. Family have flown in from Japan, Perth and all over to be with him, and their support has been immeasurable. Our parents, who have each been through so much before, have yet again been bastions of support.
To all of you who have offered me - and Jus - your support, thoughts and prayers - especially folk here in Oxford - I can never thank you enough.
Many people will know that I have a very special younger brother named Justin, who was born with a host of physical and intellectual challenges, yet has in his 31 years defied all prognoses and expectations to become a strong, caring and independent chappy whom we all adore.
Jus as a baby underwent open heart surgery in New Zealand, and we've known ever since that one day he'd need further work. What we didn't know was that when his body needed attention, it would let us know by making him very sick very quickly. My cousin, who is a nurse, said that "it was literally as if someone flicked a switch in J's chest and he's gone downhill ever since". He passed out at college back in late March/early April and tests quickly showed that the heart valve replacement we'd dreaded was suddenly on the cards, along with a range of other repairs. Within weeks his doctor banned him from college and using public transport and even a simple flight of stairs was sometimes too much. It seemed that every test result brought more disconcerting news.
We were all extremely anxious - and for my other brother, in Japan, and me, being so far away from home was just the pitts. The day we heard that a date was set for surgery, and that his surgeon was a chap with excellent credentials, who specialised in 'dodgy hearts that've been fixed before and need more work', I sat at my keyboard and sobbed with relief.
So Jus had surgery on June 4 (small preparatory thing, which didn't actually go to plan, and freaked us out all over again), followed by 'the big one' on the 12th. To date, it seems to have gone REALLY well. He was out of intensive care after less than 2 days, half a day ahead of schedule, and has continued to come on in leaps and bounds.
I spoke to him for the first time yesterday, and he was pretty dopey, but morphine will do that - and after open heart surgery, morph or similar is in much demand!! He'll be in hospital for much of next week, then home to Mums to recuperate some more. If all goes well he'll be back at TAFE (college) within 3 months.
I'm amazed at what doctors can do to patch up bodies that weren't quite put together according to the manual. For the record, Dr TH Goh (J's cardiologist since he was a baby) and his surgeon, Mr Peter Skillington, deserve medals, along with all the nursing staff at Epworth Hospital, Melbourne.
Just as awe-inspiring is Justin's courage - he's managed to stay incredibly strong and upbeat, even when some of his test results were pretty awful and so much was uncertain. The day he told me he was "okay, but a bit nervous, because I know that something might go wrong and I might die" near broke my heart.
Those days already seem a distant memory and we look forward to more good news in the coming days and weeks. Family have flown in from Japan, Perth and all over to be with him, and their support has been immeasurable. Our parents, who have each been through so much before, have yet again been bastions of support.
To all of you who have offered me - and Jus - your support, thoughts and prayers - especially folk here in Oxford - I can never thank you enough.
Monday, June 04, 2007
M'lords, ladies and gentlemen... dinner is served
Remember that Greens Party ceilidh back in Feb? Well I got chatting to the organisers (as one does) and they mentioned that for their next fundraiser, they wanted to do something really different: a medieval feast.
My heart soared - these are my kind of conscientious hippies!
Did they want helpers? I enquired. "Yes please".
And recipes? I don't have many books here, only those I've bought in the last 12 months, but...
what???
I was in.
Best of all, they'd found a thatched hall, with original oak timbers thicker than my head (and that's saying something!). Ironically, I'd been to a yoga class there just weeks earlier, and said to my friend Lynne 'I have to run a feast here one day... it would be so great!'
Re-enactors reading this will understand - this was hard, hard work. Regular feasters are used to cooking dinner for 50-80 people, and know that it needs long hours, lots of preparation and abundant cookware. Cooking for Greens people is always a bit more challenging, because 50% of people are vegetarian, there are always a handful of vegan, gluten-free and/or other allergies/dislikes/intolerances.
In 14 dishes, we catered for them all. Herbed cheese with nuts and dried fruit. Mushroom pasties, fried fig and onion pastries. Stewed rabbit (or lentils) in sweet and spicy red wine sauce. Roasted goat (or chickpeas) with pepper sauce. Asparagus. Chaals' infamous 'jazeer' carrots. Spring greens with nutmeg. Pear tarts and almond cream. With the exception of some soy cheese and gluten free flour, we did the lot using period ingredients (although some of the pagans might have baulked at having to request a 'lenten' or 'pious' diet when asked if they would be feasting or fasting... teehee!).
I am forever endebted to Kats and Mina, complete strangers to me at 4pm, who worked tirelessly in the kitchens, along with Aly, Ants and other people whose names I never knew. To the jesters who kept folk entertained when the carrots took forever to cook and our awesome MC, Bob. And to the abundance of birch, rubarb, elderberry and other exotic wines, sourced (almost) locally from Banbury. Ask Anthony about them - he held down the bar for a while... and by the end of the night was holding it up too! Last thing before sleep, he was giggling something about teaching children how to swordfight between refilling his glass. I think that means he had a good time.
The applause of 70 satiated diners as we bowed to "Lord" Matt at the end made it all worthwhile...
If you're interested, it looked like this... http://s194.photobucket.com/albums/z27/alyd_photos/
We were barely recovered on Sunday night when we had to pull our fingers out for a gig at the Folly. Actually, Ants wasn't recovered, but he fronted anyway, for our first gig with Jules Dickinson, a local teacher, composer and guitarist who we've gotten to know of late. He's opening up a whole new world of material that I'd never have tried to sing otherwise - Sandy Denny, Joni Mitchell. Cool. The punters liked it too...
My heart soared - these are my kind of conscientious hippies!
Did they want helpers? I enquired. "Yes please".
And recipes? I don't have many books here, only those I've bought in the last 12 months, but...
what???
I was in.
Best of all, they'd found a thatched hall, with original oak timbers thicker than my head (and that's saying something!). Ironically, I'd been to a yoga class there just weeks earlier, and said to my friend Lynne 'I have to run a feast here one day... it would be so great!'
Re-enactors reading this will understand - this was hard, hard work. Regular feasters are used to cooking dinner for 50-80 people, and know that it needs long hours, lots of preparation and abundant cookware. Cooking for Greens people is always a bit more challenging, because 50% of people are vegetarian, there are always a handful of vegan, gluten-free and/or other allergies/dislikes/intolerances.
In 14 dishes, we catered for them all. Herbed cheese with nuts and dried fruit. Mushroom pasties, fried fig and onion pastries. Stewed rabbit (or lentils) in sweet and spicy red wine sauce. Roasted goat (or chickpeas) with pepper sauce. Asparagus. Chaals' infamous 'jazeer' carrots. Spring greens with nutmeg. Pear tarts and almond cream. With the exception of some soy cheese and gluten free flour, we did the lot using period ingredients (although some of the pagans might have baulked at having to request a 'lenten' or 'pious' diet when asked if they would be feasting or fasting... teehee!).
I am forever endebted to Kats and Mina, complete strangers to me at 4pm, who worked tirelessly in the kitchens, along with Aly, Ants and other people whose names I never knew. To the jesters who kept folk entertained when the carrots took forever to cook and our awesome MC, Bob. And to the abundance of birch, rubarb, elderberry and other exotic wines, sourced (almost) locally from Banbury. Ask Anthony about them - he held down the bar for a while... and by the end of the night was holding it up too! Last thing before sleep, he was giggling something about teaching children how to swordfight between refilling his glass. I think that means he had a good time.
The applause of 70 satiated diners as we bowed to "Lord" Matt at the end made it all worthwhile...
If you're interested, it looked like this... http://s194.photobucket.com/albums/z27/alyd_photos/
We were barely recovered on Sunday night when we had to pull our fingers out for a gig at the Folly. Actually, Ants wasn't recovered, but he fronted anyway, for our first gig with Jules Dickinson, a local teacher, composer and guitarist who we've gotten to know of late. He's opening up a whole new world of material that I'd never have tried to sing otherwise - Sandy Denny, Joni Mitchell. Cool. The punters liked it too...
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Lady Oxford and her feminist past
I've been meaning for ages to pen a bit about Oxford and her gorgeous history, ever since I started playing tourist in my new home town last summer. Two short stories about Oxford women will have to suffice. This is Oxford cathedral - the smallest cathedral in Britain. The patron saint of Oxford is St Frideswide, an 8th century princess who, according to legend, secured a grant of land from her father so that she could found a priory here.
A neighbouring lord, hearing of her beauty and caring not at all for her piety, decided after her father's death that he would make her his wife. According to legend, as his soldiers approached the fortified trading town of Oxenforde, they were all struck blind, as Frideswide prayed for deliverance. Historians differ on the legend from that point. One version says as each man, including the lord, gave up the chase, their sight was miraculously restored. In other versions, all the soldiers recovered their sight, but the unrepentent lord died lonely and sightless. This is her tomb. The stained glass window behind it tells her story. There's a legend that says any king of England who sets foot in Oxford will suffer a tragic fate - certainly things didn't bode well for Charles I, who was based here during the 17th century civil war (he was later beheaded for his trouble).
England's other civil war, in the 12th century, also has roots here. Mathilda, daughter of Henry I and grandaughter of William the Conqueror took refuge in Oxford castle at the end of her 10 year struggle against her cousin, Stephen of Blois. He surrounded the town in December - but the canny Mathilda and her escorts, cloaked in white, slipped across the frozen Thames like ghosts and escaped to her waiting kin. She later hammered out a deal that gave the crown to Stephen, but ensured her son, Henry, would take the throne on his death. If you tour Oxford castle (pix above and below) you can stand in the very room that was her base, in this square tower....
A neighbouring lord, hearing of her beauty and caring not at all for her piety, decided after her father's death that he would make her his wife. According to legend, as his soldiers approached the fortified trading town of Oxenforde, they were all struck blind, as Frideswide prayed for deliverance. Historians differ on the legend from that point. One version says as each man, including the lord, gave up the chase, their sight was miraculously restored. In other versions, all the soldiers recovered their sight, but the unrepentent lord died lonely and sightless. This is her tomb. The stained glass window behind it tells her story. There's a legend that says any king of England who sets foot in Oxford will suffer a tragic fate - certainly things didn't bode well for Charles I, who was based here during the 17th century civil war (he was later beheaded for his trouble).
England's other civil war, in the 12th century, also has roots here. Mathilda, daughter of Henry I and grandaughter of William the Conqueror took refuge in Oxford castle at the end of her 10 year struggle against her cousin, Stephen of Blois. He surrounded the town in December - but the canny Mathilda and her escorts, cloaked in white, slipped across the frozen Thames like ghosts and escaped to her waiting kin. She later hammered out a deal that gave the crown to Stephen, but ensured her son, Henry, would take the throne on his death. If you tour Oxford castle (pix above and below) you can stand in the very room that was her base, in this square tower....
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