Ela and Steve Wassell

It's a very special thing, when you've moved to a new country, to be invited to someone's wedding. Most of our friends here are people we didn't know before we moved to Oxford - to learn that they think us such an important part of their lives is both humbling and heartwarming.

Ela (nee Chrobot) and Steve share a love of music and the same birthday. Their big day was the most perfect expression of who they are. The church service in Abingdon was held in Polish and English, by an Irish priest who struggled over the pronunciation of 'Elzbieta' (Ela's full name) and who made us all laugh at his jokes. The fabulous Ormandys (Darren who works at the Tower of London, Catherine-from-Sydney and their daughter Keira) came up from London, and Keira made a stunning debut as flowergirl (not bad for 'not yet two'), following instructions to the letter ('go to daddy, he's down the front, look!') and cheering endlessly afterwards. Maybe it was because Sophie had brought Tim Tams.... mmm.
Adjourning to the Vicky Arms in Old Marston, we were greeted with fizz on arrival and fiddles were broken out even before we sat down to eat.
There's something extra magical when two people come together through music - you could see their love of it, and each other, shining from their faces. Joe, as best man, gave a cracking speech, which was followed by more champagne and the obligatory (for the Poles), rounds of vodka, which the landlord had put in the fridge 'all night' to make it cold. As the hospitality flowed and tongues loosened, I found my fledgling 'please's and 'thankyous' learned in Warsaw last December, coming more naturally. There was even a smattering of chattering in French, with one of Ela's workmates.
Well soused with free bubbly, my night ended earlier than some, safely cocooned on an airbed at the lovely Phil and Sophie's, who also served up a cracking cooked brekkie the next morning...

Today has been pretty quiet, but it's been a happy, happy day.

The Italian Job

Right, now that it's all official, I can finally post publicly some very exciting news. Some time in the next couple of months, the lovely Ants and I will be relocating to Rome, so that I can take up a very cool climate change job with the UN World Food Programme. I'm so giddy at the thought, I can hardly stand up.

OMG - Rome! Holy crap - the UN.

I was offered the job just before easter. There was a small mountain of paperwork, and I still have to pass a medical (next week) before I can resign, but we're not expecting any dramas there.

Being me, I've shot my trap off with mates already. Lads and lasses at work and friends from round about have all been effusive, excited and just gorgeous and supportive. Which is really good, because after a fairly stressful few months on the work front, I have to own that I feel a real sense of loss about leaving, and an aversion to 'yet more' change that really isn't "like me".

So, bouyed up by our friends, Ants and I are finally starting to get excited about this, more akin to the way I expected to feel!

There's A LOT to be done to effect the move (new tenant, find a place to live, visas, medicals). I'm trying not to sweat bricks over the potential to do list.

But we also have a lot to be excited about, and to look forward to... starting with next month's Morimondo sojourn and fact finding mission in the south... watch this space for further news!

Caerphilly seige at Easter

Caerphilly is one of the most special castles in Britain. Proper fairy tale stuff: when you try to imagine a ruined castle with moats and towers and derelict stonework, you could do worse than to imagine Caerphilly. We do several shows a year here - it's starting to feel like home, and there's nothing quite so cool as driving your car over the drawbridge and through the barbican, so you can pitch your tent in the outer bailey. This time around was special for another reason too: it was our friend Kim's first event. We've spent hours over her kit - underdress, overdress, hood and cloak, because she insisted she really didn't fancy dressing up in lad's kit. Until she realised that was the only way to play with seige engines. And that, I think, was when her event became properly fun. For me, the fun began a week earlier, finalising the menu for the weekend, which I had boldly (recklessly?) volunteered to cook. We were a merry band of 35 or so this weekend, and Liz, Steph and I aced the cooking. Flavours worked, the hot things were served hot, the cold things were cool, and we hardly burned a thing on the open fire - not even ourselves! We used up virtually everything we brought with us, and people kept coming up for seconds. We can't wait to do it again.

Drinking hats!

It's a relatively new thing, apparently, but somewhere along the way in recent summers, the Company of Chivalry have adopted a tradition of 'silly drinking hats' for the rite of 'takeaways, cider and special brew' that preceeds a show.





Mine, btw, came from our recent trip to Edinburgh, and did a jolly fine job of keeping my head warm after I went to bed, too!

Easter - Tintern Abbey

I've wanted to see Tintern Abbey for the longest time, and this Easter, we finally made it. Wow. Well worth both the wait, and the deviation enroute to our show at Caerphilly.

I've read stories before about spring grass 'studded with flowers', but I'd never seen it until today. Even roofless, you can see so much of the majesty that once was. Hard to believe though, that all this existed for just a few dozen monks (maybe 60) and a hundred or so lay brethren. Something I never realised before today is just how many stone cupboards were built into the walls of monasteries. They really were planned down to the last detail.
There was even a 'warming house - the only room in the Abbey (apart from the kitchens and infimary) where heating was allowed. Brrrrrr.
All that remained at the end was to adjourn over the road to a pub for lunch. Kim reminded us all that, being good friday, we really should eat fish. So Ants went ahead with his steak - and Kim and I shared garlic prawns and a bowl of mussels in the most amazing cream and white wine broth... mmmm

Blood on their hands...

The Age has revealed today that eleven 'asylum seekers' who were imprisoned on Nauru by the Howard government (who didn't want them to ever set foot on Australian shores because they were 'queue jumpers'), have been killed by the Taliban since being sent back to Afghanistan.

Human rights body the Edmund Rice Centre has been investigating the fate of refugees who were refused refugee status and says 11 is probably an understatement. They're calling for the Australian government to re-open cases determined by the previous government.

Australia is better off without you John Howard. May Australia never stoop so low again

Swordfighty goodness

Getting back into medieval fighting has taken some time. I didn't pick up a sword in earnest for maybe two years after I first hit England - I was too busy exploring and travelling and singing in pubs.

When I first joined the Company of Chivalry, I started learning the bill. These buggers are heavy - three inch hexagonal shafts with an unwieldy lump o' metal on the end. I've yearned for my 9 foot spear and all my old skill and dexterity, that once had someone (who was no mean fighter himself) dub me 'one of Australia's best' at pole arms combat. Not so in England. Swimming muscles and fighting muscles might live in the same arms, under the one skin, but they are NOT the same thing!

Dispirited after weeks of aching biceps, and turning on the wrong heel in interminable 'drill', I turned back to swordplay. Here, I'm sure, is something I won't have forgotten... And indeed I haven't, but my 14thC blade is half a foot longer than my old 10thC jobby (my first ever joint purchase with a boy, made mine after I bought him a blade of his own). And this new club do edge blocks, and no head blows. It's maddening, and stuff that would have been deemed unsafe back home is de rigeur in CoC, and elsewhere.

It's taken time, but I have persevered, and I think it's finally paying off. This last weapons training, having swapped a bill for a spear, the point seemed to come alive in my hands and targets (bellies mostly) were just easier to hit. Maybe I'm not quite ready yet to retire ...

You are now enrolled at the University of Oxford...

Okay, it's only a short course - an intensive weekend of intermediate French, to be exact. And it's costing 85 quid (about $180) for two days. But it's two dreams come true all at once - to get get serious about speaking decent French and to study at Oxford University.

My folks are gonna be chuffed!

Oxford Folk Fest!

Over the past 3 days, I've put in 36 hours at the Oxford Folk Festival. I'm knackered, my feet and legs ache... but I am over the moon. What a weekend!!

The first big buzz was that after just 2 years helping out with stewarding (in return for free tickets - whoot!), I was asked to be one of two 'town hall managers' this year, looking after nearly 100 stewards over the festival weekend and scoring an 'Access All Areas' pass. Better yet, I got to share the job with the lovely Becca, a fellow flautist from the Half Moon, who is studing 'how to run festivals' as part of her arts degree. Cool, huh?

In between problem solving on the fly and standing in for stewards who needed a wee, we managed to catch some amazing acts, and some brilliant gossip (the things some artists want as a condition of playing! ha!) as the weekend just got better and better.

Friday night and I loved Jack Harris, who I'd never heard of before, and the sheer joy and uplifting African harmonies of Oxford's own Afropean Choir. And Ants and I were reunited with 'Laurence the sound guy', a friend of Mandy Connells who we met 2 yrs ago at Cropredy. We probably shouldn't have all stayed in the Half Moon after 'til 3am, but Barry the Steward was driving us home and besides, you only live once.

Saturday, after recovering from one of the artists turning up just 20 minutes before he was due to play, feet hardly touched ground as I ran between errands and trying to catch the talents of local Half Moon virtuosos Rob Ryan, Jamie Huddlestone and James Bell. Scotland's 'next big thing', a trio called Lau, were amazing, as was Fay Hield from the Witches of Elswick, accompanied by her fabulous spouse, Mr Boden.

Minor panic ensued as we lost Anthony at the beginning of a shift... only to discover that he'd been helping a 4-month-pregnant Kate Rusby lift instruments onto the main stage. He had no idea who she was until later... but there was no mistaking that voice once she began. Mid-set, I desperately looked around for Ants in the crowd as she launched into 'You belong to me', which has been 'Anthony's song' for me ever since that night at the Dan O'Connell before I came away. Found him at last and had to shed a tear, although we laughed long and hard as the woman with the voice of an angel then dropped back into broad Yorkshire dialect for her legendary banter between numbers.

And I thought that would be the highlight of my weekend. Little did I know that the Reel Bach Consort (who take the works of Bach and turn them into folk tunes, complete with bagpipes), would prove that Germans DO have a sense of humour; or that the whole festival committee would get down the front of the stage to shake it for Spiers and Boden (see pix). I even caught the Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain - who are good, although I still can't stop giggling at the concept of a uke orchestra, specially one that only has about 7 ukes in it!

Last but not least, after all the cleaning and tidying was done, Becca and I learned we'd been made 'friends of the festival' for this year, and scored seats at the free 'thankyou' concert from Saul Rose (who, incidentally, plays the lilty Hobbity bit on the Lord of the Rings soundtrack whenever hobbits are in a happy place in the movie). Gilesy and Woodsy made it down to the 'Moon for the session, and I just know that the revellers will have kicked on long past my bedtime.

I can't wait for next year.

Wytham Wood's festival debut

The other big buzz about this weekend was, of course, Wytham Wood's first festival appearance.
It was both amazing and humbling.

I was scared half out of my pants from about midday, stalking the bar area like a cat on a hot tin roof waiting for our soundcheck to be called. I hardly tasted lunch and couldn't drink my pint of cider. Then suddenly we were in, the flute was assembled and Jules' guitar miked up, and they were asking us if we wanted to start 5 minutes early. We said yes, altho' with a sinking feeling on my part, 'cos Ants hadn't arrived yet.

But with a reassuring grin from Matt from work, a wave from 'Mistress Trebuchet' (aka Kim) and a wink from Barry-from-the-Half-Moon (also a fellow steward) we were away. We started with Jules' song 'The Dance', which I just love, and modest applause from the half full room. Then they opened the doors to admit latecomers, and in came a bunch of Half-Mooners, whose familiar faces helped to settle my nerves. After all, they've all been here, done this before too.

Next we played 'Crazy Man Michael' of Fairport Convention fame, the crowd really cheered, and in through the doors came Ants, Guy and Sal, and half a dozen mates from work. I felt totally humbled - most of them had only come to see one act, and paid good money for the privilege.

After that, things began to fly: I always love singing 'Dandelion', I got through the tricky flute bits on 'Thanks' without stopping (even when I stumbled over a coupla notes), and we blitzed 'Before sleep comes', 'Unweaving the Dream' and 'Ride on' before finishing with Jules' other signature piece, 'Tintagel', letting rip on vocals and guitar and almost floating off the stage amid what felt like wild applause.

It was an amazing experience. People have said really gorgeous things about our set. A bloke I'd been chatting to in the green room slipped me his card and asked if we'd consider teaming up for some gigs. Sal was still muttering next morning that she can't believe I've 'secretly' owned a flute for 20 yrs, and have finally learned to play it (without telling her). The sound guy murmured congratulations and said the room hadn't been this packed all weekend.

Jules even sold a couple of CDs. Awesome, awesome times. One bloke said that he likes my voice best of all the female folk singers he's ever heard. A chap from a band that played after us said something about 'as good as Sandy Denny, and a very similar voice', and if I ever wanted a job as a vocalist, please get in touch...

It's all far more praise than I deserve - but I'm going to remember these things for a long time to come.

Best off all - my oh-so-proud husband was waiting to give me a hug at the end - along with every last one of the friends who'd turned out in such force.

Wow.

I hope we can do that again sometime.

Georgi has (finally!) finished swimming the English Channel

Back in September, as you may recall, I took on the somewhat daunting challenge of swimming 'the equivalent of crossing the English Channel' to raise funds for a spinal injuries charity, Aspire UK. That's 22 miles, or 35.4 kms, or 1416 laps of the 25 metre pool in Witney. It's a bloody long way.

It's taken almost 6 months, and 21 separate swims, but today, I finally finished the job.

Technically, I was supposed to finish in December. And, if I'd been half as disciplined as my friend Mel, who diligently swims a mile on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then calls in at the pub for 2 pints on the way home, I could have swum twice that distance by now. But I isn't, and I haven't.

I could blame lots of things: the lurgey that knocked me flat for a week in December, followed by the pool closing for a month. Or work being stoopid busy. But the fact is that since the end of November I have had less than 10km (6 miles) to swim, and it's taken sodding ages.

However, now it's done, and I am so chuffed! Also, Aspire will still take your money. So, if you want to make one last ditch donation, you can give in any currency at www.justgiving.com/georginastickels. Or hand me the cash - I'm posting off a cheque at the end of March.

Thanks everyone for your support, your interest,and for not giving me heaps when I looked like not making the distance. Youse lot are grouse!

Wytham Wood is playing Oxford Folk Festival!

Wytham Wood is the name my friend Jules-of-the-amazing-songs-and-guitar-playing and I started performing under at the end of last year. This is our demo CD, recorded in appalling circumstances (I had so much flu I couldn't speak, yet somehow had to figure out how to sing) in December.

Apparently it's 'good enough' though - cos we've just scored our first 'big' gig, playing on the second stage at Oxford Folk Festival, on March 20!

Check this out! We've even got a blurb:

Wytham Wood

Saturday Cornbury Stage

Named after one of Oxford's magical places, Wytham Wood play an enchanting mix of traditional and self penned material. Julian Dickinson (acoustic guitar/vocals) and Georgie Cundall (vocals) make up this talented local duo.

Yes Mum, and Shona, I'm experimenting with a stage name. Please don't expect it to be a permanent change - I been a Stickels for far too long to mess with my mojo now. Now all we gotta do is figure out what to play, and start rehearsing... I'm so excited!!

Oh, and if anyone wants to see real music at the festival, the big names include Kate Rusby, John Spiers (rhymes with pliers) and Jon Boden, Lau (BBC2 Folk Award winners), Wilber, Cock & Bull, the Oxford Fiddle Group and the Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain. Stop laughing - everyone says the Uke Orc is really good. No bull.

So, SOOO proud of my cuzin Kate!

My cousin Kate has been in the CFA (volunteer firefighters) for about 5 years - I think - and has fortunately stayed safe and well while trying to defend Kinglake and other towns on Black Saturday.

She and some of her CFA chums have started putting photos on Facebook of the devastation they've seen over the past 10 days or so - the blackened roads, bush hillsides burned down to the very soil, the remains of homes, shops, vineyards, vehicles.

It's grim reading until you find the signs of hope, recovery, and support from the rest of the country to help people rebuild. From 'here's one we saved' to 'here's Australia's Prime Minister saying thankyou' to our fireys.

That's Kate in the photo, btw, under Kevin Rudds bunny ears ... truly.

At last - our new home!

I booked Monday off so that I could repent at leisure with my hangover - which was, much to my joy, nowhere near as fierce as expected.

Once I'd consumed a (still somewhat necessary) fried brekkie, I thought I'd get creative with the camera and show you our new house. From the outside, it's very much (in the words of my brilliant friend Paula) 'the house you drew as a kid - a big square front with a door and 4 windows'. But with more charisma, we think.

The outside piccies are from when we had snow (it's all gone now), but the inside ones show you what our place is like now that our donated furniture has arrived, courtesy of Andy and Christine from over the road, who are moving in together and were getting rid of some of their surplus. That New Inn is better than Freecycle, I tell ya. I have to say I've never had quite such a grownup house before, and I reckon I kinda like it. Before you go shaking your head at how domestic I've become, however, I need to point out that most of our finishing touches - the rugs on the sofas, the mirror over the fireplace, hallstand beside the front door, and the giant toaster in the kitchen - are in fact the brainchild of my lovely husband. Who knew he'd turn out to be such a domestic godliness? (Let's see how long it lasts!)