Game season!

Mmmmm, autumn. Crisp clear mornings. Falling leaves in a riot of colours, red, yellow, gold. Open fires. Stunning sunsets. The markets aren't as full of furry dinners as they're gonna be...

but game season is here. Yum.

Delving into Witney History

My recent photographic adventures around Witney made me really curious about the history of our little town, so I did some digging.

The first time I came into Witney, the first thing I noticed was the massive church -serene at one end of a long village green - almost cathedral sized, and a total surprise in such a little town. There was obviously once a lot of wealth here, and from very early days: the current St Mary's Church building (above) was started in 1243, itself replacing stone and timber buildings that had stood for several hundred years. Witney's history stretches back even further: Oxfordshire's rolling hills were home to Bronze Age and Roman settlements (including the massive Roman villa at North Leigh), and Witney itself, named after ruling council of Saxon lords - the Witan, is named in documents from 969AD.

By 1044, land in the town was granted to the Bishops of Winchester by Queen Emma (wife of two kings - Ethelred the Unready and king Cnut, mother of tow others - Harthacnut and Edward the confessor - as well as great aunt to William the Conqueror), the grant confirmed in William's Domesday book in the 11th century.

The town's wealth came from milling: first corn (the town boasted at least 3 mills by 1220 AD) and later wool - especially after the Black Death in 1348 wiped out 60% of the population, leaving too few people to work the fields for crops, and opening the door to the less labour intensive, more profitable industry of sheep farming.

At least two schools in the town date to the 1600s, another sign of local affluence, and the centre boasted 5 blanket mills in the 1800s.

Today, the Early family mill still makes blankets under Royal Charter, but the town is more known for its market trading past: shops cluster around the old Corn Exchange, the Wool Market and the Buttercross (below - itself an ancient shrine that, by 1660 was given a roof and transformed into the marketplace for perishables - such as cream and butter. The dozen or so old-world coaching Inns bear testament to the influx of transient folk on market days gone by, and folk travelling the road between Gloucester and London. Can you tell? The more I get to know this place, the more I love its charm - and the easier it is to ignore the chavvy drunks that bawl abuse at folk in the centre on a Saturday night.

I'm not sure quite which is more impressive: the centuries of stories in the stones that make up our little township, or the realisation that Witney is just one of hundreds, maybe thousands, dotted around rural England, each with an ages long history...

References:
http://witneyblanketstory.org.uk/
http://www.witney.net/history.htm
http://www.channel4.com/history/microsites/M/monarchy/biogs/emma.html

Cider, white wine and a leisurely dip after breakfast

Last night I went out for dinner and drinks with some of the work crew. Today I learned something very important about swimming with a hangover.

It's not nearly as bad as you might think.

In fact, the 30 mins I spent in the pool was the best I felt all morning. Clear head, calm belly - and I still managed to grind out 1200 m. (I'm now just 200m away from being one third finished! Bring it on!) Can't say it lasted - wasn't back on land 10 minutes before ze hangover bit back with a vengeance.

Wish i'd stayed in the pool all day, really.

Autumn days in Witney.

After the summer that wasn't, autumn's crisp sunny days have been fortifying for the soul before we descend into winter. The days are still long(-ish), the sky is a bracing blue. So this evening I took my camera for a walk into Witney to see if I could show you just how pretty this place really is...

How drinking more pints could cut your carbon footprint

The landlord at our new local, the New Inn, isn't exactly what you'd call a greenie. But he is a businessman and quick to understand that doing the right thing by the environment can not only save you money - it can even be a money spinner. Okay, the real reason he put this sign up in his pub is probably to take the mickey outta me and my mate Paula - but we got a giggle out of his style.

Channel Swim update:

Just thought you'd like to know - I've now done 6 swims, ranging in distance from 1400m to 2300m. Total to date: 10,400m down, exactly 25,000 to go!

To all those who have sponsored me so far - especially those in Aus, cos the dollar doesn't quite buy the pounds it did a few weeks back - thankyou!! Liam, I will get you that Lap of Dog Paddle on film soon, I promise :-)

This photo was taken when I was 20 - my mum scanned it and sent it over to help my fundraising pitch. In 2004 I won the Women's Open age group of the Bairnsdale Bridge to Bridge, a 2.5km race in the Nicholson River. Technically I was 3rd woman across the line - I was beaten by a pair of 50-somethings, but it remains the only swimming 'gold' medal I've ever won!

Look who's got an armoury

My husband has been busy in his days off. The other day he escorted me up the stairs to our spare room (recently vacated by Keith the Lodger, who has moved to his retirement pad, an 11 bedroom farmhouse in France!)... and showed me this. This kit is all ours - from dark ages to 14th and 15th C stuff, and a couple of sharp swords too. It's been years since I lived in a house with its own armoury!

A changing of the guard at both my locals

Next Sunday sees the end of an era for Oxford pubs. Joe Ryan is giving up the Half Moon, and from Tuesday week it will be the first time in something like 27 years that Joe, an Irishman originally from Clare, hasn't been the landlord of a pub in Oxford with a cracking reputation for music.

In the leadup to the changeover, the pub's longtime residents (our friends Ian, Darren and Catherine) have moved on, and there have been several 'last hurrah' evenings, with all the regulars turning out, and out of towners like Jon Spiers and Kathryn Nutbeem getting in for a song or two. The pub is going into good hands: new landlord Jamie has been a regular behind the bar for some time, and while he has loads of good ideas for upping daytime custom, we're hoping he'll want to change very little about the evening sessions. Fingers are crossed...
Last week saw a different era end at my other local - the Dan O'Connell in Melbourne. For the past 15 years or more, the Sunday afternoon 'spot', 4pm-7pm, has belonged to Pat McKernan, another Irish expat who has found a home away from home in pubs. Pat's ability to generate a whole lot of sound and vibe from one man and a guitar has made him a stalwart on the Irish live music scene in my home town. But last Sunday was his last ever at the Dan, bringing to an end more than a decade of memories for me and mine: Pat McKernan followed by Erins Pride,
Pat followed by the Sunday singing session, Pat playing at Mikko's and my wedding, Pat on St Pat's day, Pat in countless Hundred Pint club photos. One of the Dan's regulars used to sayhis ambition was to one day have learned as many songs at Pat knew. Pat's versions of Sally McLannan, the Parting Glass, the Fields of Athenrye and loads others are still the ones I know and sing.

There are piccies on facebook.

I'm gutted I missed it. But you will know where to find me on the 19th - at Joe's last hurrah.

Isle of Wight

A forecast of completely rubbish weather was not enough to dampen our spirits as we took off on the latest Mighty Redox and Legendary Pete Fryer Band road trip. Neither Ants nor I had been to the Isle of Wight, and our chum Brenda the Saffa had only been once. And she hadn't been on a trip like this. Team drinkies and a 2am finish before left me in no fit shape to enjoy the ferry crossing, even after a pie at the terminal. This is me hiding my hangover from Brenda. And this is Ants protecting me (just before poking me in the belly - the big meanie!) We arrived in Rookley in time for lunch , although the dodgy smelling burgers did nothing to help my queasiness. A nana nap in the afternoon produced much better results, and we all trooped off for a top notch dinner and to see the bands in action. I do love this lot!! Being still a little seedy, I retired gracefully around midnight. Ants and Brenda stayed til stumps and were kicked out of the bar several hours later. Ants being literally twice B's size, he handled the copious pints, rounds of tequila and doubles of Captain Morgan's spiced rum a whole lot better than she did. Although tellingly, there are no embarrassing photos of Brenda from 3am... take a bow Mr Cundall!!
And the weather forecast proved depressingly correct, so we saw next to nothing of the Isle of Wight itself. But the view of the harbour was pretty, and we've loads to see when we come back next time...

Australia: about to join the modern era on paid parental leave?

Australia is one of only two developed nations in the world that doesn't have mandatory paid maternity/paternity leave. Barely a step ahead of that shining example of good human rights, the USofA, women and men in Australia may access up to 12 months of unpaid leave (only after they've worked somewhere for a year) when they give birth to or adopt a child. However only about 40% of Australians have access to paid parental leave: and most of those people are high income earners and professionals.

In the UK, by comparison, men can take up to 2 weeks on full pay, while women may take 14 weeks on 90% of their normal pay and then 34 weeks at a fixed rate (about £120, or $300 a week). Other countries that offer at least 14 weeks on 100% salary include Cameroon, Botswana, Madagascar and Senegal. Brazil offers 6 months on 100% salary. New Zealand women may take 14 weeks paid a minimum wage only ($407 per week). In France, it's 16 weeks on full pay for a first child, rising to 26 weeks on full pay for a third or subsequent child. Finnish women and men can both access close to a year (split between them) on 80% wages.

Lack of paid maternity leave is a huge issue for Australian women. Women are considered medically unfit for work for at least two weeks before a birth and six weeks after: even if the baby is healthy and the delivery straightforward. It's illegal to work during that time, but there's no compensation for being forced out of the workforce (unless you have sick pay or holiday pay available to you).

All that may be about to change: http://www.theage.com.au/national/commission-calls-for-18-weeks-paid-parental-leave-20080929-4q43.html

So the downside is that it's paid at minimum wage, but that's a huge improvement for all thos parents on low incomes who currently get no paid leave at all. It woudl be in addition to any paid leave you can access at work, and unless you're already a stay at home mum, it would replace the baby bonus unless you're already , so it's spread out over time (loads of studies show that giving someone 5 grand all at one just encourages them to blow it on a new telly, and not baby stuff - surprise!)

Best of all, they've realised that giving paid leave only to women is just going to encourage discrimination against women in the workforce, so other than the mandatory bit, it's open to men and women. I don't want kids, but it's about bloody time the government realised that without kids, the next generation of workforce just ain't gonna be there. Watch this space for next steps...

Spiers and Boden and the meaning of Ballads

Seeing lots of live music gives you two really cool things:
1/ An excellent night out listening to brilliant music, usually involving pints of cider and jolly good company
2/ A chance to learn from the best.

Tonight's return to the Nettlebed Folk Club to see the most excellent John Spiers (rhymes with 'pliers') and Jon Boden provided an abundance of all the above.

First, I teamed up again with the lovely Ela and two of her friends visiting from Poland (her fiance, Stephen, dutifully eschewed the event so that he could attend his first Polish lesson - he reckons everyone in the class is there because they have a Polish girlfriend, as there's only one chick in the class!). It was my turn to drive, but there was still time for a cider.

Second, both Spiers & Boden and their big-band, Bellowhead, have new albums out, so there was lots to listen to both onstage and on my two new CDs. The more you listen to this stuff, the more you hear songs, or fragments of song, crafted differently. Things get put together with different tunes or lyrics, are connected up with other pieces of music, or played slower, faster, simpler, more trickily, so they don't sound like the same music at all. As long as you can say whose work you learned it from, or what fragment of manuscript it came from...

But my best bit of learning came from some of the lads' witty onstage banter. For years I've been shunning some of the older ballads as being super mawkish and, well, kinda cringeworthy. Until Jon Boden helped me understand: they're not supposed to be taken seriously.

"It might help," he says, "to understand a bit of what this ballad is about. A knight is riding through the woods on his horse. Past his girlfriend's house.
He says 'hi'.
She says 'hi. Fancy coming in for a bit?'.
He says 'no thanks. Think I'd best get home. To my wife.'
So she kills him.
And gets ratted on by a talking bird. As you do. And she gets hung for her sins. The end'

I get it now! Ballads are supposed to be comedies....

My niece is beautiful!

Well, here she is: Chloe Ann Stickels was born yesterday (Tuesday) evening Melbourne time, and this is herself just a few hours old. She was 7lb 10oz at birth and looks at this stage as though she'll have her mother's auburn hair. When I rang the hospital about 10 mins after her arrival I could hear her in the background - a fine set of lungs indeed! - and she seems alert and responsive in all the right ways.

My brother Justin was on hand right through Sue's long and tricky labour (there were forceps in the end - ouch!) and cut the baby's cord. Both parents are pretty knackered but resting comfortably at the Royal Women's in Melbourne. Because of the special needs of both Jus and Sue, they're living in at the hospital in a special unit for new parents, for at least 5 days. Mum says the place is excellent, and they have round the clock access to people to help them learn stuff. Then they'll go to my Mum's for 2 weeks before a further week of residential support - and then we'll see.

Thank you to everyone for your love and support through this slightly anxious pregnancy, and for your good wishes.

We're all a bit blown away that our 'baby' Jus is now a daddy himself. I'm wishing like mad I was home in Melbourne. But so far so good in these first couple of days.

Georgi is 'swimming the English Channel'

(Image reproduced from the Oxford Mail)

Okay, not literally. But, along with my friend Lorraine, over the next couple of months I'm aiming to swim the distance from Dover to Calais - that's 22 miles, or 35.4km - to raise money and awareness for the UK charity Aspire.

Aspire provides support to people with spinal injuries, and as some of you know, I have some experience of spinal injury myself. In my case, way back in 1993, recovery was at first only a 50:50 proposition, but ultimately the permanent damage has been minimal. Many other people (40,000 in the UK alone) just aren't that lucky, and their lives are forever changed.

But the human spirit doesn't want any less just because the body won't do as it's told. In the years since my accident, I've met people with quadriplegia (limited movement in arms, torso as well as legs) who can drive a car; who have borne children; completed post-graduate study; run companies. I even met a chap who, determined that a broken neck would not end his ballet career, now performs inspirational 'wheelchair dance' and moving spoken word shows.

For these people, and others like them, getting on with life requires extra support - during rehab and, often, in every day tasks the rest of us take for granted, from getting out of bed to the proverbial "shower-sh!t-and-shave" so you can get to the office. ASPIRE helps people in the UK with all sorts of tricks, tips and modifications.

As an Aussie, I can't remeber ever not knowing how to swim, and it stood me in good stead when I came to start rehab. Thre months after my accident, my physio said the best thing I could do for my healing body was get in the pool, so I did: 6 days a week for a year, aided and abetted by my uni mate Dave, who was recovering after a snapped Achilles tendon. Through weeks and months when I couldn't walk unaided and always felt clumsy on land, to get in the water where I was nearly weightless and so agile felt just like heaven.

For all these reasons, to get back in the pool to raise money for such an awesome cause feels especially appropriate.

Please support me if you can. I have a page set up through Just Giving: www.justgiving.com/georginastickels. Donating through Justgiving is quick, easy and totally secure. It’s also the most efficient way to sponsor me, whether you're at home or abroad. And, if you’re a UK taxpayer, Justgiving makes sure 25% in Gift Aid, plus a 3% supplement, are added to your donation.

I'm going to keep posting updates through my blog, and on my facebook page, as well as at Just Giving... my first swim will be today!

So watch this space for further updates, and thanks for helping me make a difference!

Impromptu gig-ly goodness

Ants and I went to check out a band at the new(ish) local, the New Inn, tonight. Hullabaloo play loads of Irish favourites, definitely one of the best bands the landlord has put on since we've been there.

Evening wasn't without its laughs though: Ants and I were nattering out the back when Martin (the landlord) popped his head out... "Georg, d'you know the words to 'Fairytale of New York?"

"Um. Yeah. Why"

"Good. Hey fellas, gotcha one!"

Apparently, someone had put in a request, which the band said they couldn't play cos they had no female vocalist. I can't say I did it proud, but for something completely unrehearsed, it was alright. The punters seemed to like it too: check out this review!

My big fat folky weekend

Ooh ooh ooh! I'm all abuzz - it's been the folkiest weekend in, well, weeks!

Graham and Lucinde Metcalfe are back in town, after emigrating to Canada 6 months or so ago. Theirs has gotta be one of the best grownup love stories ever - high school sweethearts who met up 40 years on and found that a whole lot of life circumstances hadn't changed them that much after all - they were married last year.

I first met Graham as one third of GMW - or Giles Metcalfe and Woods, but he's loads before that on the folk scene. If there's a song from up north that man doesn't know, I'd be amazed. So it was a matter of course that he'd be asked to take a spot at the Oxford Folk Club. Amazing to hear his ringing baritone filling the room again. Best of all, Giles and Woods were persuaded up on stage: we thought we'd seen their last gigs together, but we was wrong! Graham had special words of praise for Woodsy's songwriting: something about deserving to be much better known for it than he is. So true.

Sunday night was, of course, the Half Moon session and it hadn't seen so many singers in ages: as well as the Metcalfes, Ian Giles roped in the other two of his new trio, Vinegar Tom. And Ants came down - we hardly ever get there together any more... cracking good night.

The adventure continued tonight: I teamed up with Stephen and Ela from the Half Moon to hit the Nettlebed folk club, where a cold ridden, moderately pregnant but absolutely amazing Eliza Carthy was playing stuff from her new album. Wow oh wow. Her new five piece band is just amazing. I'm still jealous of anyone who can fiddle that fast, and sing so gorgeously - and do both at the same time. She even hauled out an accordion - throwing down the gauntlet to players everywhere to 'try this on one leg, in high heels, while pregnant'!

I don't care that it's midnight on a Monday and I've only just got home... I'd do it all again (in fact, I am, cos Spiers and Boden are here in 2 weeks!)

Ant Dee comes to stay!

I've been counting down the days 'til my Aunt Denise comes to stay. Dee's partner Chris lost his battle with cancer earlier this year, but this gutsy woman decided that she would go on and fulfill their dream of cruising the Mediterranean. Flanked by a couple of friends from high school, she's had an amazing adventure in Thailand and Lao with by cousin Sammy, before heading off to the med and travels through Italy, Greece, Turkey, Spain and France. Now she's in Blighty for a few days before heading home, staying first with my cousin Sarah's inlaws, who live in Coventry, not far from here, and then with me and Ants, in the cosy little cottage we're minding for our friends Paula and Adam. We've had such a lovely time!! The weather was pure English summer - grey and drizzly - so we headed for the Trout, a cracking posh pub with amazing food and lovely ambience beside the Thames. Some gentle pushing of the staff got us a window seat overlooking the river. The poor buggers had to work hard for their tip - we were so busy talking they had to come back 3 times to see if we were ready to order. But such food, washed down with cider, and capped off by a walk (in the rain) past one of the locks on the river. Evening time we hit the Half Moon for more cider and some serious singsong, and Dee spent Monday checking out Oxford while I was at work, before more foodie goodness and endless chatter at my new favourite place to eat out, the Fleece in Witney. Yum, yum, yum. And so good to be able to show off Witney to family from home. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was threatening homesickness... All too soon it was Tuesday morning and she was off to heathrow on the bus, hoping to stop off in Thailand to see our cousin in hospital there (the chap who miraculously survived 12 days in the jungle after getting lost on the way to a waterfall... to meet up with Decie and Sam!). Once she's home, we've plans afoot to return Paula and Adam's hospitality and have them to stay in Bairnsdale, and maybe even go sailing on Decie's gorgeous 36 foot boat! Oh I hope it works!

Jamie's Italian?

Not really - anyone who's ever eaten in Lygon Street Melbourne wouldn't dare put this trash on their table, even at 5 bucks a head.

Don't get me wrong. I have loads of respect for Jamie Oliver's crusades to convince English people to eat decent food. Far too many Brits eat rubbish, left over from an era of wartime cookery and dodgy joints of unethically farmed once-was-cow.

I'm sorry, the more I rethink this post, the more I realise I really have learned the art of the English Moan. But the food really was rubbish, especially given the "so-called 'affordable' but marked up because I'm a celebrity chef" prices (around £30, or $75, per head).

Foodies and wine buffs, I dare you to read on...

So, I started with a glass of prosecco (sparkling wine), which was served flat. And warm. And the waiter couldn't see anything wrong with that. When we finally got his attention after nearly 10 minutes....

Of our table of 9 people, three of us sent back mains for being 'too salty to eat'. The Jamie's Italian website says I should have paid £9.25 for my beef carpaccio salad - but his restaurant charged me £10.75 plus service. And my massive plate of rocket and sawdust parmesan didn't even have any 'carpaccio' on it - granted, the meat on my plate was very tender, but it was bright 'cured' red, and looked much more like bresaiola (which is cured for 2 months, not served raw in lemon juice), and not unlike the stuff you get presliced in packets at Sainsbury's.

Shame, really.

Glad my boss was paying: I'd have asked for my money back, if it was going on my own credit card...

Rolf Harris meets Humphrey B Bear

About 2 weeks ago, my workchum Emily fronted the office with a massive kiddie grin and a challenge for all the team: "come and see the Wurzels!"

For the Aussies out there, the Wurzels are of a similar style and vintage to, say, Rolf Harris, and as much a part of English childhoods as Humphrey B Bear, apparently. They're farmers from Somerset (apple growing, cider swilling territory in the south west of England), famous for Pirate-drawl 'rrrr's and such lyrical classics as "I've got a brand new combine harvester and I'll give you the key", "I am a cider drinker", "Cider, Cider" and "Sunny Weston-Super-Mare" (which would be a bit like singing about Sunny Dandenong).

I went along prepared to laugh and nod along with stuff I'd never heard of - but I had forgotten
that the Company of Chivalry lads and lasses mostly hail from 'Weston'. It turns out that most of the rude songs we sing about the Duke of York are actually take-offs of Wurzel music... (except for the one about someone's bum bein' up for rent....) So it turned out the Aussie ring-in knew more words than the rest of the crew (who were too busy standing on a picnic table throwing beer on each other anyways, so missed the words...)

They also missed the lead singer removing his shirt - a sight I could have done without too, as the chap is older than my dad and hairier than my husband! But the cheeze was worth it for the look on Em's face all night ("I can't beLIEVE I'm seeing the Wurzels!"), and Slovenian Tomaz's response when he heard the accordian fire up: "you don't understand, they're playing one of those things that my country used to invent for the world the polka. It has a lot to answer for...".

And perhaps best of all - Tom from work had quietly sneered at us all week prior to the gig, but on monday morning, the laugh was on him. "I'm really sorry. I'm gonna be late for work. I'm stuck in traffic... behind a combine harvester!"

Karma? Oh I think so!

Ramsays the second

We did it! We managed to do a second Ramsay night - and I dunno what Brenda is on about with her 'I can't cook'- she makes a cracking meal!! Check this out!

Throw in a bottle of wine, some hazelnut liquor and a lesson for BB on how to use facebook, and a very silly night was had by all ... Not bad for a Tuesday :)

John and Hannah get wet (I mean 'wed')

Truly, it was the soggiest wedding I've ever been to, although after Caerphilly this year, i shouldn't have been surprised...

However NOTHING, not even the fact that our marquee was pitched in a field under 3 inches of water, could dampen the spirits of these two on their day of days. Ants and I felt privileged to be a part of the festivities, being so new to the company.

Bride and groom, as you can see, looked absolutely resplendent in their wedding clothes, and we guests enjoyed the usual nuptial festive high jinx, playing with candle wax, starting a food fight with the bread after food was done with, and drinking and carousing and singing songs until the sun came up.

Hurrah!