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Nov. 8th, 2008 11:18 pmEarly start this morning, to travel via Southampton to the Isle of Wight to meet Daniel. I'd thought my luck was in this week when I'd found an old personal stereo among my bits and bobs, so brought it along for the trip; sadly I hadn't taken time to examine it. I'd just assumed it had a radio so didn't bother to bring any tapes. Only, sitting in the cafe in the ferry terminal this morning, after I'd plugged the earphones in ready to switch on and tune to Radio 5 Live, did the awful truth become apparent. It had no radio. It was a cassette player only. At least the caffe mochas there were perfect.
Despite the lack of anything to listen to, the ferry crossing wasn't too bad. Daniel was waiting as I came off the boat; since we walked past one of his poetry boxes on our way through the terminal, we stopped to open it up. Daniel confessed he hadn't checked this box for some time; it had a shedload of poems in it, together with the usual assortment of leaflets that kids love to put in the boxes.
Stopping at Daniel's workplace for him to collect some firewood for his old-type stove, we drove to his house and spent an hour drinking tea in his case and coffee in mine and reading the new poem submissions. Then I presented him with his birthday gift, Richard Reynolds' book On Guerrilla Gardening. He was delighted with it - I'd known it would be right up his street - and after skim-reading extracts of it and looking at lots of the pics of guerrilla gardens he decided he'd like to have a go at some guerrilla gardening of his own.
So we were back into the car, armed with a trowel and some daffodil bulbs, to meet up with Daniel's dad Glyn, who accompanied us on our mission to find some space that needed brightening up. Whenever I pointed out a promising-looking patch of grass Daniel sadly pointed out that those patches get mown regularly. We settled on a little rough strip of earth by the asphalt leading into the car park behind a housing estate, and planted three daffs there.
Mission accomplished, we all walked past the marina (where Daniel and Glyn kept stopping to admire boats) to the Lifeboat pub for a drink and a chat. Then we dropped Glyn home and headed back to Daniel's where he made us generous helpings of pasta and Mediterranean vegetables in sauce. Daniel revealed that the credit crunch is hitting the environmental and heritage trust that he works for hard, as they rely on loans, so he could be finding himself redundant soon. He said if that happened he was thinking of going travelling again and I urged him to do it. Earlier, he'd confessed that, for complicated personal reasons I won't go into, he'd long had a yen to visit the Scottish town of Rose Ness, so I told him "Go to Rose Ness" - and wherever else the fancy and his resources will take him. I've known Daniel for over twenty years and know that he's happiest when he's travelling and seeing parts of the world most of us never dream of.
Before we left for him to drop me at the ferry, Daniel resurrected a long-time but, until now, dormant pet project of his : us reconstructing the journey of the Three Men in a Boat. I suggested 2014 as an ideal time to do it, being the 125th anniversary of the book, which gives us lots of time to get everything organised, like hiring a boat and finding a third person to join us.
And so in the evening it was on to the New Forest with my mother and Gran, to meet up with Aunt Marian and Uncle Hector at a murder mystery evening they were involved in organising. The do was held in a parish hall, where, in between acts of the murder mystery play, volunteers served us food. Starter was vol-au-vents, and there was a bowl of olives on the table too. Me ma and Gran assumed I was the only olive-eater on our table so put the bowl by me, but after I'd polished off three-quarters of the olives Aunt Marian's friend Mary abruptly removed them to her end. She must like them too - she should have said at the start. Main course was a tasty chicken in white wine sauce, and there was a choice of desserts - I went for summer pudding with cream. The cast, friends of Aunt Marian and Uncle Hector, were reading from printed scripts - they'd not been allowed to see the script beforehand, so none of them would know who the villain was either. The characters had names like Sir Ivor Gotten-Award (pompous actor) and Belle Vue - my favourite was sharp-tongued alcoholic chat show host Loretta Lush, who happened to be the victim's ex-wife. The script had a few witty lines and topical references, and as we were queuing for coffee one of the cast confessed that they all dropped ad libs in here and there. I observed that those ad libs must be giving the audience false clues...
Over coffee and chocolate mints we had to think of questions to ask the suspects then decide who we thought the murderer was. Mary was insistent that it was Loretta Lush; I wouldn't have it and insisted it was either Ivor or masseur Willy Grope. Inspector Lestrade then arrested the villain - Crystal Ball the clairvoyant; two other tables had guessed it was her, so Aunt Marian presented them both with little magnifying glasses.
'Night folks.
Despite the lack of anything to listen to, the ferry crossing wasn't too bad. Daniel was waiting as I came off the boat; since we walked past one of his poetry boxes on our way through the terminal, we stopped to open it up. Daniel confessed he hadn't checked this box for some time; it had a shedload of poems in it, together with the usual assortment of leaflets that kids love to put in the boxes.
Stopping at Daniel's workplace for him to collect some firewood for his old-type stove, we drove to his house and spent an hour drinking tea in his case and coffee in mine and reading the new poem submissions. Then I presented him with his birthday gift, Richard Reynolds' book On Guerrilla Gardening. He was delighted with it - I'd known it would be right up his street - and after skim-reading extracts of it and looking at lots of the pics of guerrilla gardens he decided he'd like to have a go at some guerrilla gardening of his own.
So we were back into the car, armed with a trowel and some daffodil bulbs, to meet up with Daniel's dad Glyn, who accompanied us on our mission to find some space that needed brightening up. Whenever I pointed out a promising-looking patch of grass Daniel sadly pointed out that those patches get mown regularly. We settled on a little rough strip of earth by the asphalt leading into the car park behind a housing estate, and planted three daffs there.
Mission accomplished, we all walked past the marina (where Daniel and Glyn kept stopping to admire boats) to the Lifeboat pub for a drink and a chat. Then we dropped Glyn home and headed back to Daniel's where he made us generous helpings of pasta and Mediterranean vegetables in sauce. Daniel revealed that the credit crunch is hitting the environmental and heritage trust that he works for hard, as they rely on loans, so he could be finding himself redundant soon. He said if that happened he was thinking of going travelling again and I urged him to do it. Earlier, he'd confessed that, for complicated personal reasons I won't go into, he'd long had a yen to visit the Scottish town of Rose Ness, so I told him "Go to Rose Ness" - and wherever else the fancy and his resources will take him. I've known Daniel for over twenty years and know that he's happiest when he's travelling and seeing parts of the world most of us never dream of.
Before we left for him to drop me at the ferry, Daniel resurrected a long-time but, until now, dormant pet project of his : us reconstructing the journey of the Three Men in a Boat. I suggested 2014 as an ideal time to do it, being the 125th anniversary of the book, which gives us lots of time to get everything organised, like hiring a boat and finding a third person to join us.
And so in the evening it was on to the New Forest with my mother and Gran, to meet up with Aunt Marian and Uncle Hector at a murder mystery evening they were involved in organising. The do was held in a parish hall, where, in between acts of the murder mystery play, volunteers served us food. Starter was vol-au-vents, and there was a bowl of olives on the table too. Me ma and Gran assumed I was the only olive-eater on our table so put the bowl by me, but after I'd polished off three-quarters of the olives Aunt Marian's friend Mary abruptly removed them to her end. She must like them too - she should have said at the start. Main course was a tasty chicken in white wine sauce, and there was a choice of desserts - I went for summer pudding with cream. The cast, friends of Aunt Marian and Uncle Hector, were reading from printed scripts - they'd not been allowed to see the script beforehand, so none of them would know who the villain was either. The characters had names like Sir Ivor Gotten-Award (pompous actor) and Belle Vue - my favourite was sharp-tongued alcoholic chat show host Loretta Lush, who happened to be the victim's ex-wife. The script had a few witty lines and topical references, and as we were queuing for coffee one of the cast confessed that they all dropped ad libs in here and there. I observed that those ad libs must be giving the audience false clues...
Over coffee and chocolate mints we had to think of questions to ask the suspects then decide who we thought the murderer was. Mary was insistent that it was Loretta Lush; I wouldn't have it and insisted it was either Ivor or masseur Willy Grope. Inspector Lestrade then arrested the villain - Crystal Ball the clairvoyant; two other tables had guessed it was her, so Aunt Marian presented them both with little magnifying glasses.
'Night folks.
