Author: davidscruise

No Covid church dreams last night, just a bit of an anxiety episode in the early hours as I found myself unable to gather my belongings and travel documents as the day of departure had dawned. My brother was in there somewhere as the day morphed into utter disaster; needless to say, I was soon awake and thankful for the resumption of reality! 

It was a bright and dry day, no excuse not to walk today.  My archiving of memorabilia collected since childhood was coming on nicely and could be put to one side.  There were two errands to complete; a trip to the chemist to pick up my routine prescription, and a visit to the Post Office to pay in a cheque.  I set off walking, and completed both tasks fairly quickly. 

The semicircular Crescent Hotel is due for re-opening in October. At one time, The St. Ann’s Hotel occupied the far portion, The Crescent Hotel the portion nearest the camera. The whole building now accommodates the 2020 revival of The Crescent.

I felt that now was a good opportunity to take pictures of the almost completed Crescent Hotel. The huge wooden hoardings behind which the building works were partially hidden had come down, but the fencing was still there. Any photo opportunities were from The Slopes. “Why not photograph other major Buxton Hotels?” I asked myself. So I did.

I had fun capturing these classic images of Buxton on my ‘phone. Pleased with myself, I set off to walk home the long way, taking more pictures re-route. That was the plan.

Suddenly, while in Spring Gardens, Buxton, now a pedestrianised high street, I suddenly became unwell, and was unable even to remain standing. A passer-by assisted as I slumped slowly onto the pavement, as my body seemed to shut down and fire up again in quick succession. This was far more dramatic than my heart attack in church, three years ago; I thought very briefly, this was it. An ambulance arrived within minutes of one being called. I must pay tribute to all those who came to my assistance. After the most extensive of testing, it was concluded that a dodgy inner ear, tinnitus and a slight eye irregularity contributed to or perhaps even triggered a sudden increase in heart rate which prompted this alarming dizzy turn. To the passers-by, the Ambulance crew, paramedics, and personnel at Stepping Hill Hospital who eventually ascertained I was probably not in a life threatening situation, my unreservedly grateful thanks.

I’m ok now (I think!). Thanks for reading,

David, the early hours of Tuesday morning.

Last night’s blog, “Days 148 thru 150” has been republished. I even got the title wrong, thanks to preemptive text, which I missed when proof-reading at nearly 1am this morning. Access the more correct version via GOOGLE, on http://www.davidscruise.wordpress.com

All the best, David at Buxton’s Tradesman’s Entrance, 14.30 hrs.

It might as well be the end of October, if the weather is anything to go by.  My ambition to continue regular walking after a good stride out on Thursday was thwarted by heavy rain and high winds. That must make me a “fair-weather” walker, and if I had a dog, no amount of inclement weather would  allow me the luxury of not leaving the house.

Thankfully, I generally enjoy a good sleep these days. But my nightly dreams seem to be covid-related.  I find myself in a crowded church unable to maintain social distancing.  The congregation sings heartily, and some start coughing. I walk out in disgust, then wake up. I suspect that, although generally content, I have subliminal issues which manifest themselves at 3am!

I received an e-mail from the Parish Office last week; church services resume from September 13th.  This (if I attend) will be the first service I have been to since a Cunard act of worship while crossing the Atlantic Ocean in March. The last church I was at (I think), was in Aruba. 

For the first time ever, congregations are limited to a determined maximum so that social distancing can be maintained.  Like any public place, the whole massive interior will have to be disinfected before and after each service, an enormous amount of extra work for the parish personnel, and also, extra serious responsibility.  If I understand this e-mail correctly, three of the six churches in the Team Ministry will open in rotation, St. John’s, Christ Church, Burbage and St. Mary’s.  No singing is permitted, I doubt the Sign of the Peace will be part of the service. Conversation after the worship is discouraged. And, if you intend attending church, one is obliged to ring the Parish Office, and book your place.  I don’t think the Almighty has thought this through!

Lockdown is a strange and unique time to live through; obviously not as traumatic as living through World War 2, but in other ways, far from normal. I have little enthusiasm to seek out steam train trips which now seem to be getting under way.  I would have liked to been there, at the long-awaited re-opening of the Crescent Hotel, or the inaugural run of the re-created Brighton Belle. But still, I am saddled with that reluctance to increase the risk of contracting  the Covid 19 virus by attending social events which, now, I am beginning to miss.  Socialising on-line, e.g. via Skype or Zoom doesn’t work for me. 

This morning, after catching Sunday Worship on Radio 4, I busied myself reorganising some archive files.  I came across my school report, a reminder that how ever hard I tried, I was no academic genius. My teachers were generally encouraging, and the final report wished me well in my future career.  I doubt if my tutors and mentors would have been surprised that I would follow the opportunity to drive trains.  I’m not sure that algebra, trigonometry or geometry assisted me in the life to come. But the grammar school education did seem to stand me in reasonable stead later in life, particularly with a belated appreciation of good English, or more accurately, a detestation of sloppy language. But it was strange; reading that school report with its message of good luck for a career now concluded, three years ago.

Sunday draws to a close; a film plays quietly on the T.V. as I conclude this blog. This morning’s worship focused on listening, and hearing. Such contemplation should be scheduled for much later in the day when one is more receptive. Television’s only further nod to the fact that it’s Sunday is the forever ghastly Songs of Praise where my church nightmares seem to come true. But instead of walking out, I merely switch channels. Last week, the late movie was The Railway Man. This week, it’s The Note Book, another retrospective film. It’s recorded, and I shall re-watch it in the week when I am not distracted penning my blog.

Thanks for reading. David, 00.35 Monday 24th August 2020.

Some time yesterday evening, 19/8/20

Right now, I should have been on board QM2, at the start of a round the world trip, but thanks to Covid-19, that will have to wait at least until next year.  I’ve no problem with that, and hopefully, by then, the Coronavirus situation will be very much less severe, and that effective vaccines will be commonplace.

It wouldn’t surprise me if we have seen the last of the spectacularly hot weather, although September and October can be extremely pleasant. Yesterday was quite pleasant after a rainy start to the day.  

Today, it has rained all day. I was thus rather thankful that I wasn’t crossing the Atlantic right now.

Thursday 20th, 21.06hrs

Forgive me if these writings are becoming “same-old, same-old”. For a few days, for whatever reason, too humid, too wet, too pre-occupied, the inclination to go walking was almost non-existent. I had planned to explore more of the local countryside with Roger on Tuesday afternoon; the weather had looked promising. This would have been a welcome break from his on-line geology course which concludes on Saturday. At the appointed time to stride out, the heavens opened. Tea and biscuits in the “conservatory” were a kind of “plan B” as the rain continued to crash down onto the ribbed polycarbonate roof….which although it lets the light in, annoys me because I can’t really see through it. Replacing with clear effective see-through material has been on my “to-do” list for some time now.

It has, however, been a good week. My “tip” of a bedroom is now very much better organised and feels just that bit more spacious. Boris went halves on a good lunch yesterday at the Bulls Head, Monyash and today, the gardener showed up before 9am. The plumber also kept his promise to install a hose reel and tap in the back garden, and repair the long since faulty hose in the front garden. I now have no excuse for not watering the plants. Shopping and laundry were delivered in good time late this afternoon. And, I did manage a decent walk this morning for 100 minutes. All seems incredibly satisfactory.

Best wishes to everybody; Thanks for reading, David, 21.42hrs Thursday 20th August.

14.45 hrs at Horderns Motor House, awaiting an M.O.T. certificate for my red car.

Actually, I have been here almost an hour, and I am expecting my car to be ready soon, with no issues which require immediate attention, or “advisories”.  I always understood that in a public building, face masks were compulsory, and I am sitting here, like an idiot, face mask donned, while a few customers, not all of them, come in and out “maskless”.

On Saturday night, I made the common mistake of starting to watch a movie just before going to bed at around midnight. It was a compelling film, “The Railway Man”.  Any movie with anything “trains-related” in the title gets my attention. Back in the 70s, I took my then girlfriend to see Midnight Express, nothing at all to with railways, the Midnight Express, for some reason, being the name bestowed on a tough Turkish jail!  It was still a good movie!

(Continued writing, Tue. 18/8/20.)

I remember the posters for The Railway Man on the London Underground around 2013, and would eventually watch the film at home, far too late at night some seven years later. The plan was to view the first twenty minutes or so, and then “get my head down”. Needless to say, I watched to the end, making myself a bowl of porridge to stave of feeling hungry. I would recommend The Railway Man, even if a northbound express train of the 1980s was represented by (among other things) a Class 45 in green livery hauling a rake of maroon B.R. Mk 1 coaches, far from historically correct. But actually, who cares? Maybe the pedantic railway enthusiast, the film’s main character, Eric Lomax who forty years before from when the movie was set, ended up as a very ill-treated POW tasked in the construction of what is referred to as the Death Railway. It seems his interest in the Railway, even then in the worst of brutal conditions irritated his captors, resulting in ever more brutality. The story is more or less true, with lots of artistic license as far as the “love interest” is concerned (reading the plot on Google).

The following day, Sunday 16th August, was, understandably, a write-off. Going to bed at 2am doesn’t work these days! Nevertheless, I did catch Radio 4’s Sunday Worship at 8.10 that morning. Although half asleep, I did enjoy the service, this week from a wonderfully Methodist establishment in Cardiff. I had not heard the hymn “New Every Morning is the Love” since early childhood, but even so, could remember most of the words, clearly audible thanks to a very balanced group of singers. But being rather groggy, my “waking and uprising certainly did not prove!” In the afternoon, still with eyes like house-bricks, I remembered a “trick” from days when I didn’t have the luxury of post retirement freedom. I would lie on the sofa, curtains drawn and a C.D. of chanting monks from Ampleforth playing gently. I would drift in an out of “oblivion” until miraculously, I would then feel incredibly refreshed. I rooted out that same C.D. on Sunday, and thus rescued the rest of the day.

Yesterday (Monday) I had recovered from “Saturday Night, Sunday Morning”, and had not forgotten that my red car was due for M.O.T. examination in the afternoon, which impressively passed with minor “advisories” which I will deal with at its next service. Roger came over to repair a collapsed shelf in my bedroom, the contents lying having lain a heap below, unattended with since the end of March! While at the Garage in Chapel -En- Le-Frith, he installed support brackets, fixed under all remaining shelving to prevent further collapse. The endless reorganisation at home continues.

I never learn; I still went to bed at 1am this morning (Tuesday). But, I had spent most of last night straightening up my bedroom which until recently had all desk and table surfaces piled with miscellaneous paperwork and other junk. The house cleaners (as per my instruction, would leave well alone; there’s more for them to do now!) Fortunately, now, I am rejuvenated after a good sleep, punctuated by multiple encounters with the loo, and weird dreams. Roger has signed up for a week long geology course, which normally is residential. Lockdown dictates that this is now delivered via Zoom, and this year, there are around 40 partakers compared with a more normal 20, when held in e.g. an hotel. That doesn’t rule out the weekly trek out into the country. Rogers’s geology knowledge is fascinating. Take a random sample of chalk from the White Cliffs of Dover, put it under a very special powerful microscope, the flower-like images revealed are nothing short of beautiful and astonishing. We used to have micrarium in Buxton, a sadly short-lived attraction. Michael Carter whom I met on a World Voyage in 2018 was the brother of the creator of the Buxton Micrarium – it’s a small world – but big when going round it!

Thanks for reading, David. 12.12 hrs 18th August 2020.

4 years, 5.5 months after World War 2 finally ended, I was born. That should make me 71, which it does. I hate to put it to all those I grew up with….we’re all getting on a bit now!

Mum and Dad, both born mid-way through the First World War, didn’t go out of their way to burden me or my older siblings with the traumas they must have endured.  Neither did they shy away from sharing their experiences we might have been curious to ask about. Mother did recall that, for whatever reason, she witnessed the sight of London’s very familiar skyline, with St. Paul’s Cathedral standing proud, silhouetted against a burning backdrop of shades of orange, a result of the huge glow caused by massive enemy bombardment.  This would become a well known image,  immortalised in numerous documentaries and, probably paintings as well.

Tonight, as I write, BBC 1 is relaying the most wonderful commemoration of “Victory over Japan Day”, a spectacular finale of the day’s events, this evening, at Horse Guards Parade.  Numerous accounts from P.O.Ws and others involved, were projected on to the surrounding buildings, along with video clippings and appropriate images. A very fitting tribute, tasteful throughout and technically as well as artistically brilliant.  V.J Day was commemorated “around the world”.  And full marks to the B.B.C. for their dignified relaying of this event with no irritating voice-over. Brilliant!   Joanna Lumley did lead the narration of this commemoration without any obvious interruption to the proceedings. 

That new lamppost outside my house is a vast improvement on the concrete structure it replaced with its ghastly orange sodium light which had discoloured the nights on our Lane long before I moved up here. (See picture at the end of this blog).  I don’t usually welcome unnecessary change, but this is a definite improvement. My childhood obsession with lamp-standards lingers on.  There’s even one on board Queen Mary 2 for the benefit of British dogs crossing the Atlantic in dedicated kennels. American dogs are provided with a fire hydrant…I kid you not!

Yesterday, I lamented the demise of the recent hot weather. Although not so warm during the morning, the afternoon saw a return to the humid and warm weather of previous days. But today, although pleasant, August has become its familiar changeable self. Roger came over and it was still pleasant enough to drink tea on the patio.

I am hoping that our church can resume regular worship in the near future. The trouble is that the Covid-19 regulations apply to churches as much as other public places, and while some churches have re-opened, many remain closed.  I have spent small amounts of time re-familiarising myself with pages from an old Book of Common Prayer which still refers to King George as the monarch. I do love the beauty of the slightly old fashioned English in which it is written. But some of its contents seem impossible to take on board.  Tomorrow, I shall tune into Sunday Worship at 8.10, assuming I don’t over sleep after a dodgy night.

That’s it for tonight. Again, many thanks for reading.  David  23.34hrs 15/8/20.

The sky, yesterday wasn’t quite battleship grey, and I missed any blue sky that was up there. And, where had those sultry temperatures disappeared to? Was what went before another “flash-in-the-pan” heatwave? I do hope there’s a few more like that before summer’s inevitable defeat!

For a second time, cousin Peter paid me a visit on his way back home, this time, from the Lake District. With him was his son Benjamin and although not the best of days weather-wise, it was possible to sit out on the patio, all three of us in shorts! I brought out a tray of tea and Digestive Biscuits – my generosity knows no bounds! It was a pity that my shopping, which included strawberries and cream were delivered after their visit. Nevertheless, we nattered in the back garden from just before 10 am until twenty-five minutes past one. They were not desirous of lunch; by the time I bade them farewell, I felt hungry. A dish I had prepared previously was ready for reheating, fresh spaghetti ready for cooking. Yet another impressive effort on my part!

This morning, before my daily shower, there came a knock on my front door. I made myself fairly presentable and went down to answer it. A stranger in all-over yellow hi-vis garb asked if I could move my red car, parked adjacent to the concrete lamp-standard in front of my house. This is to be replaced presumably by something much more efficient. Another bit of history bites the dust. I’m unsure whether I disapprove or not. The replacements I have seen elsewhere are ok. As a small boy, I was always fascinated by the lampposts around where I started to grow up. They were green cast iron structures with ornate lamp holders, the light being amplified by small sections of mirror, fixed in the “lampshade”. And the light itself, appeared to emanate from merely any household bulb, but probably with a different fitting to discourage pilfering. (This was the case on trains!) Walking home along Marsland Road, from Brooklands Station with Mummie and Daddie, after a Halle Concert in Manchester, all the lampposts would go out, giving a real sense of lateness. I think this would happen shortly after 10 o’clock. The onset of climate change could certainly be retarded considerably if such measures could be re-introduced world wide. New York and Shanghai do look most spectacular at night time, along with other major cities across the globe. But, surely, there is infinite room for careful cutting back.

The weekend is almost here; and as ever, the weeks seem to pass like days, the months like weeks etc etc. The car illustrated goes for its M.O.T. on Monday. It has served me well since acquiring in April 2016, and I hope it continues to do so.

Thanks for reading, David 10.35 14th August 2020.

Wednesday 12th August 2020, writing started at 17.50 hrs.

This is my kind of summer. It feels as hot as anywhere I have ever set foot in world-wide, but I certainly cannot imagine that it’s as hot as around the low 40s centigrade that I enjoyed in both Samoa and Tonga just last year. This uncharacteristic heatwave follows an overnight thunderstorm the magnitude of which I don’t recall ever. The night sky seemed to be brightly lit more than it was dark. Distant lightning seemed to plunge Harpur Hill into a kind of strobe effect, although bits of video, although quite impressive, seem to contradict my recollection of last night’s thunderstorm. More heavenly pyrotechnics are promised for tonight; right now, it is “New York hot and sticky”.

Monday 10th August 2020 (Started to write Wednesday 12th at 2022hrs.

Monday must have been fairly routine; two days later, I cannot remember much, except that, despite it’s being very humid, I did complete a decent hike along the Harpur Hill section of the long since abandoned Cromford and High Peak Railway trackbed. Fortunately, I do not tire of this now routine ‘trek’ and still imagine back-in-the-day, a busy industry with trains being marshalled for the transport of minerals extracted from adjacent quarries. Had all remained “up-and-running”, firstly, I would not have been allowed anywhere near, and because, at that time it was nothing unusual, I probably would have been far from interested, except of course, had I been able to watch from the back of my house.

On the way home, I took rest at an outside table at the Parks Inn, before the final ten minutes’ walk home.

Tuesday August 11th.

By now, it had become too humid to contemplate walking. I did chill out on a sun lounger on my rear patio, headphones in my ears, and the dulcet tones of Simon and Garfunkel serenading me to my temporary place with the fairies! Prior to that, lunch consisted of a pre-made (by me) spaghetti bolognese (of sorts). As I watched T.V. later, with dusk turning to night-time, it was difficult to stay awake. I abandoned any outstanding washing up and other chores and headed for bed.

Probably like thousands of others, I was awakened by one of the most spectacular thunderstorms I can remember. Although the curtains were drawn, and the blind pulled down, it was obvious with the almost continuous lightning, there was one almighty great light show suggesting the wrath of the Almighty. The rain roared down as if turbo-charged from above. Disappointingly, the double glazing did a good job muffling the cracks of thunder, although one or two bangs did feel too close for comfort. But, most of the storm was quite far off. God’s “son-et-lumiere” seems to have started earlier tonight but so far, any lightning is much less frequent. It doesn’t feel like WW3 is in progress tonight. I have tried to post a video I took last night through the patio doors. It may, or may not play!

Roger came over today to fix some of my collectables to walls, so that I don’t stub my toe on them! The “man-cave” is coming on nicely! We adjourned to the Parks for lunch. The cuisine is always excellent, but so are also the numerous flower planters outside with the most exuberant bright colours. Wonderful inspiration for next year, even if I am away for all of August and September.

Wednesday 12th August at 21.31 hrs.

Today, August 12th, the U.K. crashed into its worst ever recession, needless to say, much more severe than any other country. “Over 20%”, reported both ITV and BBC with suitable solemn sensationalism. And three people are reported killed in a ghastly train derailment at Stonehaven near Aberdeen. Already the “experts” are pontificating about the possible causes. Boris Johnson and Nicola Sturgeon did say “the right thing” on TV, and, to be fair, they can’t be expected to do any other. The pictures show the four car HST scattered, one coach down an embankment, another crushed under a third vehicle, and an upright power car. Also, (as seen on the 10 o’clock News), what appears to be, a Mk 3 vehicle on its roof. This is the first fatal rail accident in thirteen years; I do hope that this fact is made prominent in any ensuing reporting. Nevertheless, this remains a dreadful and unexpected occurrence.

As I said earlier, bits of lightning flicker across the sky, but nothing like last night when I just had to get out of bed and watch.

Many thanks for reading,

David 21.59 hrs.

Lunch with my church colleagues was followed by coffee back at home, not lunch! I have altered the text which should be reflected in the amended version via Google.

The paragraph below the first picture has been re-written at the point which refers to my lack of prowess in my younger days, tackling styles.