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Oakwood as usual, Draft 29-Dec-2013 |
First, a merry Xmas to you all. So 2013 came and has now mostly gone.
So fasten your seatbelts, gird what passes for, ahem, the loins these days, set that Zimmer frame aside and read on.
January is a bit thin really. Les saw a deer dreaming about a cyclist; there was a Burns night in there somewhere with our friends and then a long black mist followed by February. Must be something going on there.
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Hungry deer dreams of cyclist marinated in lemon oil. |
There was probably a reason why your scribe took this but he can no longer remember. |
Felix demonstrates new hands-free camera. |
A sad and a happy month. We were travelling up north to take my lovely 90 year old Mum to the memory clinic but we arrived to find that she had died suddenly as we were travelling up. She did not suffer and with her encroaching dementia and a rich set of other disorders, she escaped with her dignity to join her beloved husband, my Dad. She leaves an empty space this year with her frequently hilarious but entirely unintended comments but we were not sad as she was getting very frail. Her ceremony was attended by many friends and the kids gave her a wonderful eulogy. Not long after this unfortunately, we said goodbye to a dear friend's daughter, a much more trying time. Events like this fill you with a need to live each day as it comes, thankful for what it has to offer.
Almost incidentally in the midst of all this sorrow, your scribe reached the age of 65, formerly known as the age of retirement. He actually retired from his academic appointment in February 2012. Walking the plank is an unusual experience when everybody else is trying to push past you and jump off first, but see also December.
Being a five-year increment on our inevitable journey to join the choir invisibule, as is our custom, we threw caution to the winds and held an enormous party. Loads of friends travelled some impressively long distances, and we all had a whale of a time. The band made an outing, we all drank and ate too much and the birthday boy could scarcely get out of bed for a week, although that is not entirely out of character.
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The theme, reprising 15 years ago was the Blues Brothers again, (as it saved buying a new set of occasional-wear). Here the children welcome everybody in their customary refined manner. I understand we have a sensible picture of them somewhere. |
Izzy belting out some Aretha Franklin. |
Here the band slip into Dolly Parton mode with "Stand by your man", with invited vocal celebrities, Dave Pavarotti Hardman and Don Bocelli Bailey, two members of the old gits walking club. The other two, (Stuart BB Worthington and your scribe are getting to grips with the complexities of more than 3 chords.) |
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A motley crew of fine friends. |
Nun on the run. |
Out on the floor. |
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A lot of silly stuff going on here. |
Harpo in full flow or its possibly a sandwich. |
In the excitement, your scribe temporarily forgets where the audience is. |
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Once again, the Juniper Hill Blues Band finish at the same time. This is verging on rank professionalism. |
A rare photograph of Gillian at rest in between organising just about everything. |
At the first sign of a speech, the audience hightail it for the bar. |
We laid Nannie to rest and went on a bit of a memory tour of the Denton in which your scribe spent his formative years.
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The house where your scribe's Nan used to live. For the cognoscenti, its made from Accrington brick which, as my old Nan noted, "was all shiny when it rained". Interesting use of the word "when" there. |
Catherine St. The industrial North and the generally delapidated communities which abound - a national disgrace. This is a Christmas newsletter so your scribe will mostly hide his disgust with the baleful and frequently self-serving effect generations of politicians have had on the educational system, (and nearly everything else). |
Your scribe stands on the remains of his house. It was knocked down to build the M67 but then it missed and shot past just over the billboards on the left. For those town-planners out there, this is how to destroy a community. |
No photographs but it was the Yardbird's 50th anniversary (remember them) and Felix and Alannah went off to India on the first leg of their 6 month trip.
Nothing in the diary. Such excitement.
Ah, the annual Idle of Wight trip again. We ate, we drank and we took pictures of green things. Can we keep this pace up ?
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Yummy. |
Slurp. |
A highly photogenic green thing. Next step the Tate modern. |
Gillian had already learned that she had to have yet another knee replacement, two partials and two full ones to complete the set. The operation went well but an infection crept in requiring your scribe to become a nurse learning how, as the vernacular goes, to lovingly shoot up Gillian with some really potent antibiotics straight into a pic line into the top of the heart. If you think this sounds nerve-wracking, it is, especially as the antiobiotic is effervescent filling the syringe with bubbles. This did not stop us joining a dear friend's surprise birthday celebration, somewhere in Cumbria, deep in banjo country.
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Ah. |
A local, pausing for a moment in his search for another Mersenne prime, to wonder how on earth humans managed to take over the planet and still come up with concepts such as Twitter. |
Gillian recovers in between your scribe's attempts to administer drugs. |
We learned that Felix and his lovely girl friend Alannah had got engaged. It was very low keyed but a wonderful start to the month.
July also featured another outing of the Bottle of Britain memorial flight, starring the 6 A4s appearing together at York Railway museum for the first time in 70 years. With the exception of our Tunbridge Wells correspondent who got a bit confused and got the day wrong poor old sausage, we immersed ourselves in the works of the venerable Sir Nigel Gresley, Walschaerts valve gear and many other fascinating intricacies of the steam era ..., er, you're not listening are you. Better hurry on to August.
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Stu and Dave trying to look normal in spite of wearing an unusual sandwich board. |
For it is he. |
York Railway museum is one of the few places on earth where your scribe feels comparatively normal. Here many other Klingons gather without quite wondering why. |
And then came the graduation. Felix returned home from foreign parts for long enough to pick up his M.Arch and part II in an interminable architecture course. Architecture is nicely in line to become the first professional qualification which upon receipt, the first action is to retire. Felix as usual felt an artistic urge to dress up - in his own inimitable style.
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Felix, Alannah and Isabelle enjoy a lovely day. |
Felix and a proud Gillian. |
The support team trying to digest a truly awful attempt by Jamie Oliver's catering company to provide a competent lunch. You could have knocked nails in with the ciabatta. Rarely has your scribe seen such a gulf between promise and delivery. 0/10. |
A pleasant month - a bit of archery and a really pleasant short break in Aldeburgh with our very good friends the Donaldsons. We certainly needed the break.
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Aldeburgh is deep in banjo country. You can see why from their unusual habits. Aldeburgh was the home of Benjamin Britten. It is interesting to reflect that in exactly the same period, Britten's relationship with Peter Pears was investigated but nothing was done whilst we chemically castrated the father of modern computing, Alan Turing, for the same behaviour. A recent Royal Pardon indicates he has been forgiven. For what ? It is we that need to be forgiven for barbarism. |
The bushes were swarming with butterflies - quite magical. |
A selfie. Your scribe is really getting the hang of the 21st century. |
Throughout August and September, we had a lovely summer in the garden as most did.
Dotty in a pose in which she spent most of the year. |
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Easing back into work following a lovely summer and a brief trip to Brighton to meet up with old friends .
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A typical day in cybershed. Our Singapore correspondent Leo, and your scribe, are discussing exotic forensic algorithms and Dotty is doing her usual, which is nothing. |
Excitement grows at Oakwood as Fang returns from Hollywood and a string of hits - Arachnoborg, Arachnoborg 2, Arachnoborg Brulee and Arachnoborg v. Predator. Here he makes short work of a vole. |
Ladies of the day posing outside an unusual recycling initiative on behalf of Brighton council. This followed an ongoing discussion about the threat of increased global warming due to burning them. An ongoing focus group driven commensalist approach with a full and frankly transparent modus operandi going forward quickly resolved the issue. |
Health and safety reaches Brighton with another masterpiece of the obvious. Again, your scribe will exercise uncharacteristic restraint and refrain from commenting. |
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A nice month. Your scribe travelled to Washington to enjoy the kind hospitality of old friends Greg and Liz and then down to New Orleans to give a course.
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Old friends Greg and Liz from your scribe's Cambridge days. Greg and I are doing a project together. It certainly beats Sudoku. |
Ah yes, New Orleans. An unconventional photograph focusing on the downside of laissez les bon temps roulent. |
As much as your scribe moans about having had to spend most of his professional life sitting in airplanes, at times it is nice to reflect how staggering beautiful the world can be. Then you reach the hotel and turn on the TV ... |
A quick trip to Tilburg to take part in an old friend's inaugural professorial talk, and then a pleasant though manic month featuring Gillian's birthday and virtually the only time in the year when we are all together.
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Gillian in a relaxed moment at our favourite birthday place. |
The chucks all in their onesies exhibiting a fine symmetry. |
Gillian prior to a Christmas dinner to remember for which we are all very grateful. |
Dedicated to My Mum, Mary Hatton, 1922-2013. |
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We hope you and your families are well. We wish you a very merry Christmas and health and happiness in 2014. |