Lots of miles, but worth it

Chester Cathedral nave

I hadn't been to Chester before, so was glad Martyn suggested it as a way to make use of the time before the wedding on Saturday.  The black and white timbered buildings are well-known, but the red sandstone cathedral, with elements of surviving Romanesque stonework, is perhaps less so. I'm aware of a number of recordings of organ music from the days when Roger Fisher was the incumbent, and it was interesting to see that the organ is scattered around the transept, with the pedal department hidden away to the north.  Probably just as well, given the socking great reeds on show.

Back at the hotel, we'd booked a taxi for 12:30 to take us to the wedding venue, but since it had only taken 12 minutes to get there as we drove to Chester, I called in to ask if it could be changed to 13:15.  No record of our booking.  Well, I stood over the same receptionist as she rang up a couple of taxi firms, eventually booking for 13:10.  The car was there in good time, manned by a friendly chap: 'I like the tie!' as I got in.  We booked and paid for a return job for a pretty reasonable rate, and he was again there in good time later.

Mr & Mrs Sell

The wedding was a good experience.  Martyn's cousin Kelly was looking wonderful, as were the bridesmaids, and the groom's supporting team had scrubbed up pretty well in their matching blue suits.  I'm not sure what I feel about the vast amounts of cash that are thrown at weddings, really, but this one was well orchestrated.  We'd had to choose our meals in advance, and our chosen dishes arrived at their marked places without the need for 'Woz you 'avin' the chicken?'.  And very good they were.

As a fully paid-up Old Fart, I struggle to follow conversations when there are forty of them going on in a confined space, still more when the band starts belting it out later in the evening.  Consequently, the ensuing six hours were torment, relieved by some lengthy walks round the beautiful gardens.  We stuck in there until about 22:30 (assisted by Chilean Merlot anaesthetic) by which time our taxi, booked for 22:45, was already waiting for us.

With John and Susie

Off to Stockport next morning for tea and delicious drop scones with Susie and John Platt.  Sue and I
worked together in 1974 as translators at the centenary congress of the Universal Postal Union in Lausanne, and hadn't seen each other since.  We spent a most enjoyable hour or so comparing 1974 photographs - and taking updates.  We parted with 'let's not leave it 41 years till next time!'.  Meanwhile, Susie continues to thrash me at internet word games.

From there we headed out to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park to meet Annie, with whom my friendship dates only from 1978.  Of traffic and Escheresque road layouts in the outskirts of Manchester, the less said, the better.  Dotty routed us over the beautiful Woodhead, so we were rather late meeting Annie.  We lunched modestly in the open air at the visitor centre, then went to see the Henry Moore collection and works of many other painters and sculptors.  It's an outstanding collection, beautifully situated near Wakefield and I'll look forward to visiting again when I'm a bit less diesel-lagged.  There's a vast collection of sculpture on display, and I enjoyed seeing familiar Henry Moore pieces.  Annie, Vic and I went to an exhibition thereof in the Bagatelle gardens back in the early 90s when I was based in Paris.  The exhibition was superb: as one walked round the lovely green park, one turned a corner to find another piece, beautifully displayed in its setting.  I took them to see a piece that was on display in Brussels when they visited shortly after I moved there in 1994.

We had a quiet Monday: I helped Annie water the greenhouses at Thwaite gardens while Martyn beavered away on the examination of the Friends of Thwaite Gardens accounts, and on developing an Excel template that will make the job easier in years to come.  I admit to having succumbed to a lengthy siesta: I don't do long journeys and parties with the resilience of youth.

Off again yesterday in archetypal Smith Travelling Weather to Cambridge.  It rained every inch of the way, and the A1 experience was about as grim as I recall it from the times the parents and I drove south to visit the London relatives.  We were driving in air-conditioned luxury, with lots of horsepower and an automatic box.  How we coped in a Hillman Imp with a roof rack I can hardly imagine.  Interesting that the VW uses less fuel than the Imp.  There is progress in some areas.

The Cambridge trip was to visit a superb collection of watercolours at the Fitzwilliam, which also provided a tolerable snack lunch. Interesting to see that Turner et al used 'body colour', which was a new term to me.  A quick search yields the following:

Body colour is the use of opaque colours for highlights or dense flat areas and is a technique which has been used in water colour for centuries. Designers Gouache was introduced in 1937 and prior to this the only method of achieving opacity was to use white, on its own or to make tints of the water colours.

Now, there was I, thinking it was a sin to use gouache to reintroduce light to watercolours when one ought to be planning round areas of unpainted white paper.  I shall be less precious in future.  Another interesting fact was that Turner did a lot of his watercolours on blue paper - hence, of course, the need for 'body colour'.  Having treated myself to the catalogue, I look forward to taking a look back through the exhibition.  We waved fond farewells to Annie from the top deck of the Park & Ride bus out to Trumpington where we had parked and whence we had ridden, and had a remarkably painless ride down the M11, round the M25 and off down the A21.  In view of warnings of congestion close to home, we left the A21 early and took my route home from the hobby, much to Dotty's consternation.  She did catch on remarkably quickly, I have to say.  Not that we needed her help on such a familiar route.

Today is a quiet one of catching up with laundry and baking.  The grass needs a cut, but may wait a day or two.  Martyn, as I write, is hauling weeds out of the sides of the pond where the waterfall joins it.  We still haven't got to the bottom of why it leaks, but think it may be a case of GSI again.  

Oh, and to finish the blog as ever with a bleat, it took us a good half-hour yesterday to register for the Dartford Crossing, where they have removed the toll barriers and now rely on ANPR and on-line subscription.  The web site is miserably unhelpful, and we failed completely to register for direct debit to the housekeeping bank account, getting the insulting message 'failed identity check' time after time.  Eventually, we managed to register using the housekeeping Gaga card, but I dare say we can expect a penalty notice in a week or so.  Though the drive south was easy, cars driving north appeared to be queuing from somewhere around Amiens.  Hope it's eased by Sunday...