I seem to have been getting days and months wrong in my recent writings; not surprising, perhaps, after 171 days of lockdown since arriving back from South America at the end of March. Then, the summer was several weeks away, but now, the most popular season of the year is fading like a northern sunset. Nevertheless, today is very nice indeed, and a glorious day on which to open the doors of St. John’s Church, Buxton for the first time in six months.
St. John’s Church, Buxton. 13/9/20.
At 8.10 this morning, BBC’s Sunday Worship was centred on the 400th anniversary of the Pilgrim Fathers setting sail for an as yet unspoiled North America. Apparently, 30 million of us today can trace their ancestry back to the 100 passengers and 30 crew of the Mayflower back in 1620. Unlike the express liners of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and today’s “bloated” cruise ships,
I felt an unexpected sense of relief when, after the usual pandemic precautions, I was shown to any seat with an order of service placed on it. “Very well thought-out” I mumbled to myself as I duly chose where to sit. I was far from alone, although some designated seats did remain unoccupied. Michael Williams resumed his place at the organ, and the permitted choir of six were of “cathedral quality”. Rector Liz English and Rector (elsewhere to be) Keith Cocking presided with utmost dignity. Keith’s homily was on the subject of forgiveness, and a timely reminder on the subject!
As I got up this morning, I listened once again to Sunday Worship which this week centred on the 400th anniversary of the sailing of the Founding Fathers on the Mayflower, a ship little larger than that of a double deck bus, with a compliment of a hundred passengers and thirty crew. I learned that today, 30 million could trace their ancestry to that sailing in 1620. Those first settlers who struggled in the beginning were welcomed by the indigenous population who would soon be cruelly exploited as more from European lands continued to arrive. Thus, two religious events provided much food for serious contemplation.
St. John’s as people settle in for the first service since March.
After church, Freda who lives near by, joined me for lunch at the Old Hall Hotel, where I am writing this blog.
To one of my readers, Happy Birthday, Tom. Have a great day!
Finally, it occured to me to illustrate the Bush Wireless on which I discovered the joys of Beethoven as a c. 8 year old!
Long wave. Short wave. Medium wave. In that order.
Stay safe, David, Old Hall Hotel, Buxton, 15.13 hrs.
Unfortunately, my attempt to post a video of an extract from last night’s Prom did not work out. Possibly, there is a copyright issue; I shall try something different in the future. I have now deleted the video. Also, I have just discovered, Saturday was the 12th, NOT 13th September; that is today, Sunday. Please access the blog via Google on http://www.davidscruise.wordpress.com for the ammended version.
It seems that I have a few things to look forward to, both in the near and also the distant future. I have put my faith in the Covid-19 situation being very much improved by the end of 2021, and succumbed to reserving one of my favourite single cabins for the entire QM2 World Voyage 2022. Even on the opening day of bookings, my travel agent assured me that she had to pull some strings high up in the echelons of Cunard Administration to secure for me, one of those lovely cabins with two huge circular picture windows. Earlier that morning, while she was confirming the reservation on my behalf, the phone lines “went down” and seemingly, I had lost the cabin which Lucy, who takes care of my major travel arrangements, had put my name on. But her negotiations with Cunard were successful, thankfully.
For most of that day, I was elated, only wondering, “what had I done?!” late into the evening and through some of the next day. Those misgivings soon evaporated and I am now enjoying the long term pleasure of looking forward to revisiting the Antipodes for a third time by ship.
I enjoyed a quiet day yesterday and tried going for a walk to compliment the gorgeous wanderings of the day before. I donned my walking shoes with the intention of strolling into Buxton to re-activate a dormant bank account. But, the energy just wasn’t there. I felt cold and just didn’t relish the thought of challenging the cool breeze for an hour or two.
I have to, once again, compliment the “Beeb”(British Broadcasting Corporation). Their handling of this year’s Proms season, I thought was exemplary, given the impossible situation created by the pandemic. Apart from the penultimate night, the final two weeks of the season were live performances in front of no audience at the Royal Albert Hall. Were they going to revive the tradition of performing Beethoven’s Choral Symphony on the second to the last night? The list of programmes on the TV confirmed that indeed, the tradition of the 9th Symphony would be revived, albeit with a recording from the archives of the (I think) the 1991 Proms.
I discovered Beethoven’s 9th Symphony as a small boy intrigued with finding foreign radio stations on our pre-war Bush wireless. Just above the “Home Service” (BBC Radio 4 since 1967) on the radio’s “dial”, was a German radio station which over several Friday evenings, broadcast the cycle of Beethoven’s nine Symphonies. This was the first time I, as a small boy, would encounter such wonderful and major music. Inevitably, we got to the 9th Symphony of which I had probably missed much of the performance, having tuned into at the point all four soloists were singing together in the last movement. This morphed into a welter of sound as the conductor steered the chorus and orchestra to the conclusion of “The 9th”, which around 65 years later, still maintains for me, its tremendous impact. I have heard this work both at concerts and on the radio numerous times, but not recently. Choosing to turn off the T.V. last night, and darken the lounge, I tuned into Radio 3 and reminded myself of the childhood thrill of hearing the “Choral” for the first of many times. That pleasure hadn’t diminished, as I recalled discerning different aspects with each subsequent performance.
Last night’s concert ended, the thunderous applause faded, and on came the T.V. There was another virtuoso performance, this time, from a contestant on Who Wants to be a Millionaire who glided his way to the top prize, using just one of four available life-lines. The element of surprise had evaporated with repeated ITV trailers announcing that Donald Fear, a history teacher had indeed become a Millionaire! Nevertheless, it still made for essential viewing, but unlike Beethoven, there’s no need to play this back again.
Saturdays can tend to be a little lonely. However, I still found plenty to keep me occupied, and I did manage a brief walk before settling down to watch the Last Night of the Proms, once again, in an empty Royal Albert Hall. I was very impressed and enjoyed every work in the programme, including a piece commissioned specially. There were outside gatherings at which the concert was relayed, and views of London highlighted numerous buildings illuminated creating what looked like one co-ordinated light show. I have never seen the Royal Albert Hall lit up both inside and outside in such spectacular fashion. Splendid it certainly was, but somewhat eerie as well with no audience. Some days ago, there was a huge fuss, because for this year only, the traditional patriotic songs were going to be “without words”. The “Beeb” gave in, and a socially distanced choir (The BBC Singers) gave a wonderful albeit truncated rendition of Rule Britannia! (three verses). In Sir Malcolm Sargent’s day, I am sure all six verses were performed.
Last, but certainly not least, St. John’s Church, Buxton opens its doors for worship tomorrow. This is going to be vastly different with all the pandemic precautions and restrictions in place. This will be my first time there since January 6th. By the time I had returned from my travels in March, lockdown was already being enforced in the U.K.
The new housing is taking shape. A short evening stroll.
Thanks for reading. David, 00.37hrs, Sunday 13th September 2020
Unbelievable! For a second time, I need to correct my Blog; January, then August should actually read September…third time lucky. I assume that we are still in September; it feels more like November outside!
Last weekend, wet and uninspiring, feels an age ago. I did write fairly extensively nearer the time, but was not overly happy with my ramblings. Daily, we are reminded of the continued presence of covid-19; and infections are now increasing prompting ever changing legislation and recommendations; it’s hard to tell which is which. I manage to remain reasonably content and able to enjoy the first years of retirement. Each week, I get to explore the unspoilt countryside, usually briefly visible when driving. My neighbour with whom I walk has a “guide-book” knowledge of the different places we explore.
Crossing fields between the Bull I’th’Thorn tea rooms and Monyash whose history dates back 5,O00 years.
Despite lockdown, I seem to be able to fill my days. Yes, I am guilty of slouching on the settee while the TV fills my “swede” with junk. Some programmes on the telly, however, are worthwhile and educational. Interesting things are happening. The Proms come to an end on Saturday, the first time ever that no audience will gather for the Last Night. Full marks to the B.B.C. for broadcasting previous Promenade Concerts from their archives each night from the end of July to late August from when audience-less live concerts would be relayed on Radio 3 every night until the Last Night at the end of this week. In non-covid days, The Last Night of the Proms is a huge jingoistic party during which patriotic songs are sung by chorus and flag waving audience. Social distancing etc makes this not possible on Saturday, and the “Beeb” made the understandable decision to play Land of Hope and Glory as originally composed as Pomp and Circumstance No. 1, without the libretto which the composer, Sir Edward Elgar detested with a passion. The media got hold of this, whipping up artificial and heated debate with most people, including our revered prime minister, up in arms about tradition being disregarded. The press joined in with their ill-informed comment, and a decision was thus made to reinstate the singing. There was never any intention to discontinue this patriotic tradition, once the covid-19 crisis had passed, and the Proms could continue as usual, with luck, next year.
The next event is the very long awaited re- opening of The Crescent Hotel in Buxton.
Originally, The Crescent occupied roughly the right hand half of the building, The Saint Ann’s Hotel, on the left hand remainder which eventually closed, I think, in 1989. From October 1st 2020, The Crescent occupies the entire building, which, after the most appalling setbacks, obstacles and other delays, opens its doors to the public three weeks today. I have booked in for this historic opening, dinner, bed and breakfast. I shall attempt to do what I did in Toronto last year and be the first person to check in. At the Royal York in Toronto, much of which had been extensively refurbished over several years, I was told that I was the first to check in. However, the event was never covered in the local media. But an account of this is available on the internet. I suspect in Buxton, the reopening of The Crescent may even make the national news. It deserves to!
Bookings opened for the Queen Mary 2 World Voyage 2022 on 8th October. Seemingly, there was a nationwide rush for places on this 104 night round trip to Australia. It is reassuring that ever so slowly, cruise ships are beginning to make a mid Covid come-back. I do look forward to being re-acquainted with the high seas (on a big ship) sometime soon.
Today, I continued much decluttering and displaying of decorative items of personal interest which had been hidden away for so long. The eventual aim is to have each room in the house, an interesting place to be. Lunch in the Bull I’th’Thorn preceded yet another lovely walk out into the countryside. I am told that the level at which we were walking was perhaps a mile lower than the land levels of millions of years ago. It is very likely that lead had been mined near where we walked, from where we had lunch to Monyash.
The start of the walk, the stone walls on each side providing shelter from the wind.Crossing fieldsAncient access to adjacent field.Towards MonyashTime for Tea!
Really, I should have taken some pictures at Monyash itself. It’s a lovely village which I have visited several times by car. Today, we arrived on foot, and saw so much more.
For those of you who kindly read my blogs regularly, perhaps you may be thankful that today’s writings should be brief.
I went, with Roger for a post-lunch walk, this afternoon, through some remote countryside on the Derbyshire/Cheshire border near the once famous Cat and Fiddle Inn, now a local distillery and place where take-away food is available. For some time, the former inn had been closed, but today, a preponderance of cars parked outside evidenced its new found popularity. We continued a short distance to the Peak View cafe/tea rooms where substantial lunches are part of a wide and varied menu. I don’t think either of us were in the mood for exertion as we had become comfortable in the nice warm eatery. Outside, it was dry with a negligible threat of rain.
However, the wind from the west felt cold and was uncomfortably strong. Nevertheless, we set off, up a fairly steep path, on to a level walking route where soon, Errwood Reservoir would be seen in the distance to our right.
Along the path on the left hand side, a grit-stone wall which went went “for miles”, did a brilliant job of providing shelter from the strong winds which, actually, didn’t create that much of an inconvenience. Over the grit-stone wall, large areas of cultivated woodland made for the kind of landscape which if identical, existed in Alaska or some other far away land, I would have been thrilled. To be able to access such landscape within, say, twenty minutes’ drive from home, is remarkable.
Perhaps, we walked just over a mile and returned the same way, except for a slight short cut as we returned to the cafe where the car was parked.
On a very clear day, Snowdonia is visible as well as other parts of Wales to the south. Walks with my neighbour are usually instructive. Kestrels and buzzards were identified, also a wheatear, identifiable by its white “tail”, visible when in flight. These hail from the north e.g. such places as Scandinavia.
At home, I am preparing the house for decoration and refurbishment. I discover, much to my chagrin, rain is getting through where the sealant has perished. Driving rain has caused a damp problem with peeling wallpaper and flaking paintwork in the lounge and dining area. I might give the insurance man a ring. The lounge is long overdue for freshening up; not the dining area!.
This seems to have turned into another fairly long blog; that wasn’t the intention tonight
All the best, David 00.29 Saturday 5th September, already!
That Indian Summer is making an effort to put in an appearance. Although bright and dry for much of the time, any appreciable warmth has yet to materialise. I remain confident of one final brief period of shorts and exotic t-shirts acquired from far-flung corners of the globe.
Right now, BBC 2 has seduced me away from watching a pre-videoed episode of the acclaimed New York police series, Blue Bloods, with a Baroque Prom concert from my one-time favourite place to be, The Royal Albert Hall. I was there in August 1963 as a gob-smacked fourteen year old when Sir Malcolm Sargent conducted a biblical rendition of Balshazzar’s Feast, with buckets of artistic license! I actually met the composer, Sir William Walton, after a concert in Manchester some two years previously. Hans Schmidt- Isserstedt “out-Beethovened” Beethoven in the best 9th Symphony I had enjoyed before or since, again at the proms, some six years later.
Tonight, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment are playing the music of Handel, Vivaldi, and Bach. There is no audience, the players are socially distanced. I am, once again, extremely impressed by the enormous efforts of all those who collaborated to stage an “emergency version” of The Proms. When the season should have started at the end of July, the daily live concerts which couldn’t take place, were replaced each night on Radio 3 by previous concerts selected from the BBC archives. Live audience-less performances would complete the last two weeks of the 2020 season, mainly from the RoyalAlbert Hall. Tonight’s encore was the music as penned by Henry Purcell used by Benjamin Britten (who I also met after a concert in Manchester) for his still wonderful Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, the finale of which cannot be loud enough!
I have been “busying” myself with bits of house-tidying and small amounts of decluttering. Only two bedrooms are now uninhabitable, one fairly well organized as an archive room, the other, an embarrassing tip! Although slow, progress is discernible, just! But, I am feeling relaxed as I seem to have more space. Gradually, I am preparing the lounge for long overdue refurbishment.
I am still trying to exercise caution, in the alarming knowledge that the Covid virus is still very much with us. Rules and recommendations seem to change by the hour. Occasionally, I do venture into town, and meals out are a little more frequent now. But I have become quite reasonable at preparing a healthy meal at home; however, I don’t feel that my kitchen improvisations would qualify for entertaining guests at dinner, family members may-be!
Already it’s fairly late; that lovely concert finished three quarters of an hour ago. Time for Blue Bloods!
I suppose it was inevitable that following my afternoon visit to A & E at Stepping Hill after an inexplicable dizzy spell, last Monday, I should feel “off-colour” for a few days. I am almost ok now (Saturday 29th August).
Tuesday 1st September, 16.06hrs
Before I look back over the Bank Holiday weekend, I wish to pay tribute to Auntie Stella, my mother’s youngest sister, who last night, after living to her late nineties, succumbed, to a serious stroke from which recovery was highly unlikely. She was godmother to my sister, Mary. Her husband, Uncle David, was my godfather whom I remember fondly, especially for the famous Half-Crown he pulled out of his pocket for me, when visiting the family in Sale. I always enjoyed childhood/teenage visits to their home in Cookham near Maidenhead. Sadly, Cookham was easier to get to than their new home in Compton Abbas in Dorset. I was therefore very thankful that in 2010, both Uncle David and Auntie Stella travelled to London to attend my 61st birthday lunch at the Clarendon Hotel in Blackheath. Such a family “gathering of the clan” can never happen again, especially with four generations of both sides of my family, as well as friends present.
I had a pleasant surprise on Sunday afternoon. Larry, who lives next door, called to offer me a glass fronted cabinet which otherwise might have been reduced to firewood. It fits perfectly in my hallway, beneath the hall-stand, and has provided valuable shelf space, enough to accommodate objects on display in the lounge which otherwise would have had to be boxed and packed away when the room eventually, would be cleared for decorating. I am extremely pleased!
That’ll do nicely!
I remain optimistic that we might enjoy an Indian summer following weeks of lousy “stay-at-home” weather. Last Monday, I took advantage of some welcome fine weather, walking to Town with the intention of continuing home the long way round. Ending up at Stepping Hill Hospital was definitely not on the agenda! Thankfully, by Saturday, I was just about back to normal and Sunday had me waking up in time to catch Radio 4’s Sunday Worship which this week was a “virtual” Greenbelt service of modern hymns and music, prayer, and thoughtful observations. I am not sure I went along with the presenter’s “misfits” analogy! While a very worthy act of worship which in non-covid days attracts many thousands of camping Christians at a huge Glastonbury type event, for me, this is an impossibly acquired taste which I would tolerate at a distance, in small doses. But the term “misfits” is inappropriate however “well meaninged”.
Bank Holiday Monday saw the last day of the Government’s “eat out to help out” campaign which subsided by up to £10 per person, restaurants bills for meals out each Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday in August. This incentive to eat out proved extremely popular. However, when contemplating world poverty, one can’t help being reminded of the saying “much shall have more”. I had intended having my final subsided meal at the Royal Oak, Hurdlow. Nobody answered the phone when I tried to book a table; I assumed they were fully booked. Suddenly, I fancied a curry, the first since those magnificent creations on the Queen Victoria in the Golden Lion. The Taj Mahal was fully booked also. So I had the take-way version of what I would have chosen had a table been available. By default, this was more expensive than eating out, as Boris’s subsidy didn’t apply!
Bank Holiday Monday was not the promised coldest August Bank Holiday on record; in fact, the afternoon, though not a heatwave, was extremely pleasant. Roger had devised a walk along public footpath towards Taddington from near Chelmorton. I was unable to tackle a very (for me) steep climb through woods along a slippery muddy footpath.
Start of the walk“Shift!”Sun on distant hills. The hill on the left defeated me!I did try!Back the same way!
Today, I enjoyed my second hair cut of Lock-down. Clare arrived early this afternoon, to “do the biz”, and jolly good the haircut turned out to be. “Haircut at Home”, one of the unexpected pleasures during lock-down. I would submit a picture, but selfies make me look like Grandpa from The Waltons. Years ago (in 1978), in the station buffet at Manchester Piccadilly, I was mistaken for Benny from Crossroads! My colleague I was training with at the time maintained the most wonderful “poker-face”!
On that note, many thanks for reading, David, 19.22hrs 1st September.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regard 2020 as a wasted year, but it has certainly been very different and still, the luxury of an assured plan or anticipation of any kind of future, has never been so uncertain, particularly when planning far reaching travel. Taking each day as it comes seems like a relevant cliche at the moment.
Yesterday was wet and miserable, to the point of being remarkable! The wind howled, so much so that the high winds were bestowed the name, “Storm Francis”.
Sister and Brother in Law Mary and John ventured down to Brighton beach, a short walk from their home, to witness the high waves pounding the shore. (I might have enjoyed that!) In Buxton, I was still getting over whatever brought me to a (horizontal) stand on Monday. Everything seems almost normal today(Wednesday).
While slouched on my sofa yesterday, watching “Midsomer Murders”, I answered the telephone. It was former work colleague Carl Evans with the news that Cunard had cancelled its Alaska and Far East voyages for next year. I was booked on the “mother of all North America and Alaska odysseys” also taking in Japan and South Korea. Before all that, three weeks of ambling around the United States in the best accommodation Amtrak has to offer. This would have been one spectacular and lengthy journey. For whatever reason, my initial reaction was “that will save a quid or two”. You see, I always try to “look on the bright side!”. While I have every confidence we will eventually return to some kind of acceptable normality, I see my seventies evaporating like the “dew in the morn”.
Although feeling slightly weird after my excursion to A & E the day before, I was glad to accept an invite for lunch, yesterday. Roger and I would be joined by his daughter who has come over for the week. We dined at the newly re-opened Bull I’ th’ Thorn, an ancient hostel 10 minutes’ drive from home, towards Ashbourne. In later decades, it had become a pub/restaurant of varying fortunes. Open land behind gives way to camping and caravans with facilities, behind the eatery. The restaurant had eventually closed before the onset of Covid-19, and the 15th century building remained locked up for much of last year. Apparently, “Thorn” denotes crossroads; far back in the day, a thorn tree would be planted as a marker for crossroads to guide stagecoach drivers etc. of the time. Sometime this year, the place re-opened, not as pub/restaurant, but as a rather nice traditional cafe, reminiscent of somewhere my parents would take us to when we were little.
So now, I have to cancel my holiday insurance, and hope I don’t need to do a course in dentistry…“pulling teeth” comes to mind when cancelling travel insurance.
My plans are for a quiet day today; I’m not quite ready to venture far today.
David's Cruise 