Vale Grantie

Lady Distance has flexed her slightly tyrannical muscles in the last couple of weeks, with both Ants and I farewelling our mothers' mothers from half a world away, just 10 days apart. Anthony's 'Narnie' is remembered for her pikelets - for me, my brothers and cousins, it's the icypoles that 'Grantie' used to keep in the freezer (and her ginger cake - yum).

Both women were well into their 80s and had outlived husbands, siblings and friends by many years. While it's sad for us who will miss them, there is something natural and organic about someone living to a ripe old age, falling ill for a few days and then slipping peacefully away.

My grandfather, (who we called Grumps), used to say that no-one is truly dead until the last person who knew and loved them is also gone, because only then do the memories go too. I like to think that I prove him right every time I tell someone about that.

I'd last had the chance to see my grandmother when I was home in January. She'd become steadily less independent over the year I'd been away, and I think we both expected that she wouldn't be around whenever I next went home. So we both had a chance to say some lasting things, including goodbye, and exchange some final cards and photos in the months I've been back here. She was always just so proud of the things that I considered important - studying hard, doing good work, travelling, making music, holding it together after losing Mikko, and giving back to the universe...

She swore that having her grandkids around helped keep her young, but was always adamant that any of us who were travelling when she 'fell off her perch' should keep having a good time - and that she'd be 'jolly cross' if we upended our lives 'for an old lady's funeral'. When I first arrived in London, my cousin Sam (who is truly wise beyond his 25 years) and I had a long chat about 'what would we do if Grantie dies while we're here'. I'm secretly relieved Sam's gone home, because I'd made some rash promise about toasting her health with copious quantities of gin somewhere in London. In Sammy's absence I settled for red wine, and I think Grantie would have approved...

So apart from wanting to hug my mum and share stories with my cousins I'm okay. We're doing the shared stories thing by email - I had a gorgeous message from the lovely Becky, whose sister Sarah has a gorgeous nearly-4-year old named Alexander Beansprout (nickname, obviously!)

"Oh...you asked about little Alex...well he has been gorgeous with Sarah. Each time she cries he pulls a funny face to try and cheer her up. And Sarah said that Grantie has gone away to heaven, and he asked where that was. Paul told him it was somewhere near Mildura but even further and you can't visit there. He was sooo gorgeous and he asked Sarah if they could just ring Grantie in heaven to say goodbye!!"

I'm suddenly having all these visions of Sarah explaining to Alex that a funeral is a chance to ask God to get a message to Grantie, or maybe that by all singing together at once, very loud, she can hear us herself, all the way off in heaven... then Alex checking out the coffin and telling everyone "It's okay, she's not in Mildura, she's here... "

Oh dear, sometimes I really have no shame at all... But I really don't think Grantie would mind.

Chillin' in Oxford...

Okay, so these pix were actually taken ages ago, when Nicola came to visit us in March.. actually, oh bollocks, it might've even been late last year. So here we are in the o-so-hip Kaz Bar, back in the days when your first drink usually came with a free tapas. And on top of the mound at Oxford Castle, which has since had a massive slippage. There aren't many pix of me and the boy kicking about 'cept for formal ones, so these are nice to have. Yay for Nic!!

Folk Alley

Mandy from Melbourne is back, and she's introduced us to the joys of Folk Alley, a cool website for folkies, with free downloads and artist profiles and all sorts of cool music stuff. Nice.

They have a Cropredy blog too - such a larf! Checkout the pix gallery, with signs from the festival. They really were everywhere, and good for a giggle...

Fairport's (40th) Cropredy Convention

... is my pick for 'festival to top all this summer'.

We packed our bags early on Friday morning, stopped at Argos to pick up a tent (one we'd arranged to borrow fell through at the last minute) and jumped the train, then bus, to Cropredy.

Anthony reckons he would have travelled all that way just to walk across the bridge made famous by the Battle of Cropredy in the civil war (see last entry for details) - the fact that we camped in the field in which the battle was fought was a bonus. And the music festival was icing on the cake.

Silly boy. For me it was still all about the music. And the people. We started by lugging our kit to the Red Lion Pub, where we found our friend Jules "on the wall" outside ... where we discovered that the wall is actually the cemetary wall, and people were sat around tombstones with their pints, guitars and fiddles. You had to be there for it to not be weird... Jules' mates were all fab folk, and before long we were yacking and pulling gags like old mates. We also caught up with Mandy from Melbourne thanks to the miracle of mobile phones.

Once we'd pitched camp, we wandered off to the stage, via the Pavillion bar, which very sensibly sells cider in 4-pint jugs. Deelish. Then the fun really began.

I am now the newest and greatest fan of the band Show of Hands. Check them out - ripping melodies, lifting lyrics. Loved it. Later in the evening, the reassembled lineup of Fairport Convention 1969 (minus the late Sandy Denny and Martin Lamble, of course, but with awesome standins) played from start to finish their legendary album, Leige and Lief, - voted best folk album ever by BBC2 listeners. Richard Thompson played. Next day it was the Strawbs (who looked hammered and sounded bona-fide 1970s - boo) wrapped up by 'Fairport and Friends'. Wicked. Saturday night's grand finale was 'Meet on the ledge', played at the end of every Cropredy, where they projected pictures up behind the band, showing images from throughout the weekend.

The very last one was us. Me, Anthony, Jules and some others, sitting on the wall, with our instruments, singing our hearts out.

Shame we'd gone to bed to listen to the last bit, and missed it...

Counting down to Cropredy...

Less than 24 hrs to go til it all kicks off at Cropredy this weekend - 40th anniversary of a band called Fairport Convention, whose first drummer was a bloke named Martin Lamble (killed in a road accident when the band tour bus ran off the road in 1969). No idea if he was any relation. Mightabeen.

We're going up with our mate Julian (Jules), who's going to his 19th Cropredy - and with whom I have a gig in 10 days. There's an openmike competition night here twice a month, winner gets a gig - we've been playing up a few numbers together over the last couple months.

Turned up last night, I wasn't planning to sing, he didn't even bring a guitar, but they had a spot free at the end so he borrowed one, and we f***ing won. Am quite excited!

Anyway, Cropredy: it's a wee village in Oxfordshire, near Banbury, north of Oxford by about 15 minutes, most famous for the Battle of Cropredy Bridge between the royalists and roundheads in the 17th Century English Civil War (not to be confused with the other English civil war, in the 12th Century, when Stephen the Usurper stole the throne from his cousin, Matilda, her father's designated heir, and granddaughter of William the Conqueror. Their famous battle took place in Oxfordshire too, right here in town. English blokes, btw, are still ioverwhelmingly & stoopidly sexist, and can't handle strong intelligent women...)

But I digress again. Cropredy plays host to the festival because some of the band members own a farm there (I wonder if that's where Roger got the idea for his rant - see entry from July 31). Up to 20,000 people will be there this weekend... Our mate Mandy from Melbourne is going too - along wtih 20,000 other people - she's been touring the festival circuit all summer, and has blagged a guest pass! Oh for connections...

I still expect to be a wreck by Sunday...

For those of you who like big words....

There's a website with a list of, well, best lists on it. I like this one: 100 words every high school graduate should know.

My one concern is that it doesn't have basic words that every primary school kid should know (but most highschoolers still don't) like 'noun' and 'verb'... sheesh!

Reality check: another disaster of 'Asian tsunami' proportions?

Oxford and surrounding counties had been licking their wounds a bit after last week's floods.

Today, along comes the BBC with a reality check: floodwaters up to 9 metres deep in India, Bangladesh and Nepal, where more than 20 million people (the entire population of Australia, or one in 3 Britons) have been displaced. Where Britain had perhaps a dozen victims of 'flood related' incidents, more than 200 people are known to have been drowned or swept away.

Our floods were miniscule by comparison, and the impact 'over there' will be far more profound. Roads aren't just closed - they've been washed away entirely. And unlike here, there are no emergency services able to rush in with millions of litres of sterilised water, no community centres on high enough ground to take evacuees. People are already dying from drinking polluted water, as they have no other.

The BBC is not the only one to carry the news, but there story can be found at:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/south_asia/6927389.stm