An hour into my train journey from Cambridge to Birmingham saw the sun rise briefly colouring the morning sky gold before a bank of clouds took over. A regular change of passengers sitting beside me occurred, beginning with a cycling student to parents off to Cadbury Worls with three young girls actively crayoning pictures to pass the time.
At the NEC I met up with Mr Heker and party at stand Y06, hall 5, BDTA Exhibtion. Whilst today was a gentle day in terms of visitors to the Hall, we had a sufficient number of dentists, dental students and journalists on whom we gradually honed our pitches on the benefits and examples of double crown attachments. With a dentist, two dental technicians, girl Friday and myself as communicator, we soon worked as a team,
Weary of standing by the end of the day, we checked into our Guest House in Solihull and then went out for a meal in the nearby Harvester.
Our conversation started soberly on Europe and the current crisis, to be enlivened by the arrival of wine in a carafe shaped like the urine waste collectors in hospitals and with a straw coloured liquid that the service assured us he had filled himself.
As the wine and beer flowed, talk migrated around ever increasingly ludicrous tales of travel by air and sea to end on the serious subject of German beer.
The different beers and ales had been served in glasses frosted on the inside base with the mark of the brewer. This raised consternation amongst my merry German friends. Surely this would cause the beer to go flat quicker!
The German beer purity laws were invoked with warnings of dire consequences if such mistreatment of glasses and deflation of beer were attempted there. The outrage segued into a soulful reflection on the true origin of beer - as food for fasting monks - becoming the endnote of the meal and evening's putting the world to rights as we returned to our rooms for the night.
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Monday, 10 October 2011
Three weeks of Tweets, Blogs, Interviews, Travel and a new PC
I give in. I will never catch up the past three hectic weeks.
A relative's need for assistance with a new central heating installation meant a journey to the cathedral city of Hereford. This time, there was no opportunity for photography. Instead, I returned to the Point4 centre run by the RNIB on a daily basis, because of the cafe with its free WiFi. I was able to at least keep up with work both on Ms Lowry's book editing and the press release for the German restorators. Tweeting about the facilities in between led to a chance meeting with the Marketing manager and an interesting conversation that in itself led on to a blog article (Blindness - disability or different life style?).
Returning to Cambridge, there was an opportunity for a longer interview on Huntingdon Community Radio, with its founder Bill Hensley, on the Sunday. Being part of a program where the interview extended over 40 minutes with breaks for music and snatched sips of tea was a more relaxed experience. A wider range of topics including HBN, Toastmasters, publishing and local authors was covered. I was able to speak more slowly and clearly as there was not the feeling of telescoped time prevalent in a short few minute interview.
The following week, I managed to get a last minute booking with the joint Inspired Group and Business Club charity event, a motivations talk by Evelyn Glennie. It was a rewarding interlude to the catchup and mundane work inbetween. I remembered Ms Glennie for her percussion performances. Her talk gave a much deeper insight into the determination and acumen she had to create a multifaceted career for herself that defied pigeon-holing as explained in the article “Who is Dame Evelyn Glennie?”.
The weekend was the beginning of four days of travel, with two days travelling to another Cathedral City, Lincoln, and back for a social call on Miss T. The evening included shadow games with the lights on the Cathedral. The next day began with a small cruise on the Foss Bank in the mellow Sunday sunshine before a lunch at the top of the hill and return back to Cambridge.
On Monday, I went to pick up a small van to help take University clobber to Lancaster and returned with a much larger one. This meant that the two hundred plus mile journey transported a considerably more air than luggage, but it was a comfortable ride to the city and back, again over two days.
Before leaving for the final university year, Mr T. had, on my request and with much prior consultation and deliberation, constructed a new desktop PC from bespoke purchased parts. I held off till the weekend before beginning the transition from the existing PC to the new one. The task included a dual strategy, ensuring that existing files were backed up and then beginning the transfer. I spent most of Saturday alone esuring that I had a complete e-mail record from 2004 to the Friday to export and then import onto the new PC.
Today, Monday, the new PC went live, beginning with the first e-mail download and replies. There was a glitch in sending that was resolved by a call to Mr Beal – a pesky little tick box in the account settings had not been ticked. Drove to Mr Beals afterwards on Cambridge Open Studios website business. The evening included the installation of most of the important programs that I expected to use in the near future. Then, in turn, it was the all important precaution of conducting the very first back-up of the new PC.
Returning to Cambridge, there was an opportunity for a longer interview on Huntingdon Community Radio, with its founder Bill Hensley, on the Sunday. Being part of a program where the interview extended over 40 minutes with breaks for music and snatched sips of tea was a more relaxed experience. A wider range of topics including HBN, Toastmasters, publishing and local authors was covered. I was able to speak more slowly and clearly as there was not the feeling of telescoped time prevalent in a short few minute interview.
The following week, I managed to get a last minute booking with the joint Inspired Group and Business Club charity event, a motivations talk by Evelyn Glennie. It was a rewarding interlude to the catchup and mundane work inbetween. I remembered Ms Glennie for her percussion performances. Her talk gave a much deeper insight into the determination and acumen she had to create a multifaceted career for herself that defied pigeon-holing as explained in the article “Who is Dame Evelyn Glennie?”.
The weekend was the beginning of four days of travel, with two days travelling to another Cathedral City, Lincoln, and back for a social call on Miss T. The evening included shadow games with the lights on the Cathedral. The next day began with a small cruise on the Foss Bank in the mellow Sunday sunshine before a lunch at the top of the hill and return back to Cambridge.
On Monday, I went to pick up a small van to help take University clobber to Lancaster and returned with a much larger one. This meant that the two hundred plus mile journey transported a considerably more air than luggage, but it was a comfortable ride to the city and back, again over two days.
Before leaving for the final university year, Mr T. had, on my request and with much prior consultation and deliberation, constructed a new desktop PC from bespoke purchased parts. I held off till the weekend before beginning the transition from the existing PC to the new one. The task included a dual strategy, ensuring that existing files were backed up and then beginning the transfer. I spent most of Saturday alone esuring that I had a complete e-mail record from 2004 to the Friday to export and then import onto the new PC.
Today, Monday, the new PC went live, beginning with the first e-mail download and replies. There was a glitch in sending that was resolved by a call to Mr Beal – a pesky little tick box in the account settings had not been ticked. Drove to Mr Beals afterwards on Cambridge Open Studios website business. The evening included the installation of most of the important programs that I expected to use in the near future. Then, in turn, it was the all important precaution of conducting the very first back-up of the new PC.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Thu, 8th Sep.: The last miles home
We landed at about 1am UK time in Gatwick and began the long march through the terminal, feeling the chill air at about 15 degC outside. We bade Liz and Jenna farewell as they set off to find their car for the long drive back up to Scotland.
Louise and I found a Costa's for a very early breakfast, holding out till the three thirty train to London Bridge. We checked out hire cars – offices not open till 7am, and taxi - £200 to Cambridge! Before sticking to our plan.
At London Bridge, we caught a taxi to Liverpool Street station to catch a 5:40 strain to Stansted Airport, where after a 20 minute wait we caught the Stansted Express to Cambridge to arrive there at 6:40. Mercifully, there was a taxi to take us home where we crashed into bed.
We slept for nearly eight hours. I awoke to find that the Luxor Airport underheated food had gifted me with a mild stomach bug – at least the toilets were readily accessible now. The gifts for the other family members were brought out and exchanged and the photos transferred to our laptops for future editing. Tired, we were back in bed and asleep early in the evening.
Louise and I found a Costa's for a very early breakfast, holding out till the three thirty train to London Bridge. We checked out hire cars – offices not open till 7am, and taxi - £200 to Cambridge! Before sticking to our plan.
At London Bridge, we caught a taxi to Liverpool Street station to catch a 5:40 strain to Stansted Airport, where after a 20 minute wait we caught the Stansted Express to Cambridge to arrive there at 6:40. Mercifully, there was a taxi to take us home where we crashed into bed.
We slept for nearly eight hours. I awoke to find that the Luxor Airport underheated food had gifted me with a mild stomach bug – at least the toilets were readily accessible now. The gifts for the other family members were brought out and exchanged and the photos transferred to our laptops for future editing. Tired, we were back in bed and asleep early in the evening.
Wed, 7th Sep.: Revisiting Karnak, Departure
This was our departure day, with friends leaving on different flights through out the afternoon. We were going to be the last with collection at 6pm.
I used the opportunity to take an early taxi to Karnak, to revisit the temple complex now that I was acclimatised to the heat. Mahmoud, my driver agreed to pick me up in two and a half hours time, at 11am.
Having purchased a ticket, I went straight to the very first gate of the complex, intending to work my way through from there to the exit, photographing along the way. Karnak was relatively deserted at 08:30am apart from the armed guards and the opportunistic guides. I could see little buildings along the outer wall with another soldier's curious head popping out.
The guide approached offering to help and I adopted a different strategy. I smiled and gave an “as salaam aleikum” and apologised for not speaking Egyptian. I made it clear I had been here before and was here just to get some photos. Then thanked him with a shake of the hand for wanting to help. A toothy grin, wave of the hand and I was left alone. I wandered systematically from the oldest gate, through the millennia towards the entrance. Any time I was approached by a guide, I used the same approach as before and was courteously left alone.
Halfway in, I came across two men in Galabeyas, lying head to head on a wall in the shade. They sat up when I arrived but with sign language I persuaded them to pose again, giving them a small tip and then engaging in a bit of banter about the older one's good looks, raising a good laugh before moving on.
By the time I reached the Hypostyle hall, it was about ten and the bus-loads of other tourists had arrived. It was a case of accepting that they were a part of the view and continuing with the photography.
With five minutes to eleven, I came our of the temple and rushed across the large plaza to get to the car and bus park. A large group of local school children passed in animated chatter in the opposite direction, herded to the temple by their teachers. I accelerated past the hawkers who recognised a lost cause as it zoomed past and arrived at the main bus park with Mahmoud pulling up.
A family man, Mahmoud was proud of his new taxi, a Ford, and had already covered his dashboard with a fabric and plastic cover to protect it from the dust. We exchanged basic family information (children etc.) with our limited vocabularies as we sped out of Luxor to the dock sited a couple of kilometres to the South of the city on the East bank.
I arrived in time for a quick shower before the early lunch, the last opportunity to chat to Angie and Tony before they departed for their Luxor hotel for a further week's stay. Louise and I packed our bags, filled the Nile Cruise envelope with the tip for all the staff and posted it in the collection box, before migrating upstairs to hang over the balcony to wave to the successive groups departing, including Myra and her two daughters and Zoe and Dan.
Liz and I continued to sip drinks whilst Louise and Jenna were the centre of male attention for the last few hours before Egypt gave us a glorious farewell sunset. The bus took us back to the airport where, now experienced, we firmly took control of our suitcases and entered the building – to be greeted by a smile and comment of recognition of one of the representatives I had talked too aeons ago upon our arrival.
Most impertinent scrounger of the day was the person putting our luggage into the X-ray screener, begging for a tip.
Luxor airport passport control was done with a sense of humour and a smile by the official as he checked our passport pictures and then we were through to the area beyond, before the gates. A restaurant promised food, which turned out to be trashy fare, not kept properly warm, at airport prices.
Boarding, Jenna and Louise sat together whilst Liz and I sat on opposite sides of an aisle at the back.
With my knees jammed against the seat in front, I was relieved when the couple sitting split seats in front of me asked if they could move to the empty seats on my side. However, the relief was short lived when an insensitive old goat sat in front of me slamming himself into the seat and nearly kneecapping me. Apologies at my yelp of pain? Not a bit of it.
The Thomson staff were equally unsympathetic, not permitting me to move to the visibly empty seats with more leg room up front. By stretching sideways into the aisle, I survived the flight whilst the old goat snorted, farted and bounced in his seat for the next 3000 miles.
Having purchased a ticket, I went straight to the very first gate of the complex, intending to work my way through from there to the exit, photographing along the way. Karnak was relatively deserted at 08:30am apart from the armed guards and the opportunistic guides. I could see little buildings along the outer wall with another soldier's curious head popping out.
The guide approached offering to help and I adopted a different strategy. I smiled and gave an “as salaam aleikum” and apologised for not speaking Egyptian. I made it clear I had been here before and was here just to get some photos. Then thanked him with a shake of the hand for wanting to help. A toothy grin, wave of the hand and I was left alone. I wandered systematically from the oldest gate, through the millennia towards the entrance. Any time I was approached by a guide, I used the same approach as before and was courteously left alone.
Halfway in, I came across two men in Galabeyas, lying head to head on a wall in the shade. They sat up when I arrived but with sign language I persuaded them to pose again, giving them a small tip and then engaging in a bit of banter about the older one's good looks, raising a good laugh before moving on.
By the time I reached the Hypostyle hall, it was about ten and the bus-loads of other tourists had arrived. It was a case of accepting that they were a part of the view and continuing with the photography.
With five minutes to eleven, I came our of the temple and rushed across the large plaza to get to the car and bus park. A large group of local school children passed in animated chatter in the opposite direction, herded to the temple by their teachers. I accelerated past the hawkers who recognised a lost cause as it zoomed past and arrived at the main bus park with Mahmoud pulling up.
A family man, Mahmoud was proud of his new taxi, a Ford, and had already covered his dashboard with a fabric and plastic cover to protect it from the dust. We exchanged basic family information (children etc.) with our limited vocabularies as we sped out of Luxor to the dock sited a couple of kilometres to the South of the city on the East bank.
I arrived in time for a quick shower before the early lunch, the last opportunity to chat to Angie and Tony before they departed for their Luxor hotel for a further week's stay. Louise and I packed our bags, filled the Nile Cruise envelope with the tip for all the staff and posted it in the collection box, before migrating upstairs to hang over the balcony to wave to the successive groups departing, including Myra and her two daughters and Zoe and Dan.
Liz and I continued to sip drinks whilst Louise and Jenna were the centre of male attention for the last few hours before Egypt gave us a glorious farewell sunset. The bus took us back to the airport where, now experienced, we firmly took control of our suitcases and entered the building – to be greeted by a smile and comment of recognition of one of the representatives I had talked too aeons ago upon our arrival.
Most impertinent scrounger of the day was the person putting our luggage into the X-ray screener, begging for a tip.
Luxor airport passport control was done with a sense of humour and a smile by the official as he checked our passport pictures and then we were through to the area beyond, before the gates. A restaurant promised food, which turned out to be trashy fare, not kept properly warm, at airport prices.
Boarding, Jenna and Louise sat together whilst Liz and I sat on opposite sides of an aisle at the back.
With my knees jammed against the seat in front, I was relieved when the couple sitting split seats in front of me asked if they could move to the empty seats on my side. However, the relief was short lived when an insensitive old goat sat in front of me slamming himself into the seat and nearly kneecapping me. Apologies at my yelp of pain? Not a bit of it.
The Thomson staff were equally unsympathetic, not permitting me to move to the visibly empty seats with more leg room up front. By stretching sideways into the aisle, I survived the flight whilst the old goat snorted, farted and bounced in his seat for the next 3000 miles.
Tues, 6th Sep.: Dendera Temple
The boat set sail for Denderah at 5am, with a new addition at the rear, a mounted machine gun and four men with an extra rifle. We heard several explanations as to why they were necessary later in the day:
Discretely tucked away behind a tent at the back of the boat, they hardly impinged at all, in fact, the little group welcomed the curious visitors in the course of the day.
Although we were promised a late wake-up call at 8:30, I was up and finished with breakfast by 7:30am as I wanted to enjoy the morning's cruise down the Nile. The fishermen were already out in their rowing boats and the village women were gathered on the shore with their daily washing.
We arrived without incident at Dendera by 9:30 and took a coach to the temple, a 20 minute drive away. Denderah temple was dedicated to the goddess of love, Hathor, and the original foundations were laid down two thousand years BC but not completed. Work resumed under Ptolomies, again without reaching completion, and then restarted in the Roman period.
The main feature of the temple is that it is the only one with an intact roof. The temple had been discovered by early Christians whilst buried in sand and they had used it as a shelter. The smoke from their fires had blackened the painted ceilings and they had also removed the faces of any figures at the visible levels. Fortunately, the sand had protected the buried walls which we could enjoy now they had been revealed.
Recently a safe method of cleaning the soot, tar and smoke residue had been found and applied to half the ceiling, allowing us to see the blue sky and stars, with Horus wings.
Within the temple, there were store rooms/crypts along either side, where offerings and valuables could be kept. However, the priests could not cross from one side of the temple to the other in front of the altar! They had to turn away to one side of the building, climb up stairs to the roof, make an offering to the goddess to appease he for walking over the altar, walk across and come down stairs on the other side to then be able to access the store rooms.
We were still able to clamber up the stairs, following in their footsteps. The stairs to the right took a square spiral route through the temple wall, intricately decorated with hieroglyphics whilst the left hand stair well went down in a straight long incline of steps. On the roof was a chamber with the Egyptian and more modern horoscope (name derived from the god Horus). Unfortunately a replica of the original which was in a European museum after being removed.
The Temple was also dedicated to the god of childbirth and children, being the only god shown with their face directed out towards the viewer. He was a dumpy puck of a figure with his tongue stuck out.
The ship steamed back to Luxor in the afternoon, arriving just before dinner. Our armed guard left discretely.
The evening's entertainment was a mediocre belly dancer and a brilliant dancing Dervish.
- It was a response to a shooting a couple of years ago at the Valley of the Kings, the gunman being a fanatic from the Denderah region.
- The area was politically more active.
Discretely tucked away behind a tent at the back of the boat, they hardly impinged at all, in fact, the little group welcomed the curious visitors in the course of the day.
Although we were promised a late wake-up call at 8:30, I was up and finished with breakfast by 7:30am as I wanted to enjoy the morning's cruise down the Nile. The fishermen were already out in their rowing boats and the village women were gathered on the shore with their daily washing.
We arrived without incident at Dendera by 9:30 and took a coach to the temple, a 20 minute drive away. Denderah temple was dedicated to the goddess of love, Hathor, and the original foundations were laid down two thousand years BC but not completed. Work resumed under Ptolomies, again without reaching completion, and then restarted in the Roman period.
The main feature of the temple is that it is the only one with an intact roof. The temple had been discovered by early Christians whilst buried in sand and they had used it as a shelter. The smoke from their fires had blackened the painted ceilings and they had also removed the faces of any figures at the visible levels. Fortunately, the sand had protected the buried walls which we could enjoy now they had been revealed.
Recently a safe method of cleaning the soot, tar and smoke residue had been found and applied to half the ceiling, allowing us to see the blue sky and stars, with Horus wings.
Within the temple, there were store rooms/crypts along either side, where offerings and valuables could be kept. However, the priests could not cross from one side of the temple to the other in front of the altar! They had to turn away to one side of the building, climb up stairs to the roof, make an offering to the goddess to appease he for walking over the altar, walk across and come down stairs on the other side to then be able to access the store rooms.
We were still able to clamber up the stairs, following in their footsteps. The stairs to the right took a square spiral route through the temple wall, intricately decorated with hieroglyphics whilst the left hand stair well went down in a straight long incline of steps. On the roof was a chamber with the Egyptian and more modern horoscope (name derived from the god Horus). Unfortunately a replica of the original which was in a European museum after being removed.
The Temple was also dedicated to the god of childbirth and children, being the only god shown with their face directed out towards the viewer. He was a dumpy puck of a figure with his tongue stuck out.
The ship steamed back to Luxor in the afternoon, arriving just before dinner. Our armed guard left discretely.
The evening's entertainment was a mediocre belly dancer and a brilliant dancing Dervish.
Mon, 5th Sep.: Valley of the Kings andHatshepsut's Temple
Five hours later at 6am, a wake-up call for a 7am bus trip to the Valley of the Kings, a forty minute or so drive into the mountains on the west bank of the Nile.
We began with tomb KV 1 (Kings Valley tomb 1), that of Ramesses IV. It illustrated the common pattern that we should look for in all the tombs.
If the king died in the meantime, there would only be 7 months to finish any remaining work. So different strategies were used, such as plastering and painting or even almost cartoon like. One King specified that the tomb chamber be completed first and the rest be done later so that at least his burial chamber would be ready in the event of a premature death.
The tomb of Ramesses IV was one of the shorter ones, so the texts were more limited in the corridor. However, the presence of colour was a revelation. The goddess Nut was spread in two aspects over the ceiling of the main chamber, representing the sky at night and during the day. Stars on a blue sky filled the space between the body of the goddess and the ceiling edge. The second tomb visited was of Ramesses VII which was longer and the final tomb was that of Ramesses IX.
The valley of the kings was like an oven by 10am as we moved on to visit an alabaster factory. We were welcomed by an ebullient owner of the family run business, who had his staff piping in in chorus with different catch phrases during the introduction and demonstration. The stone products could not only be made from alabaster, but also moonstone and others.
Objects, vases and figurines could either be hand-made or machined. Ironically, the hand made ones were thinner and lighter and cheaper than the machined ones. The reason being the high cost of machinery as opposed to the low cost of labour. The selling was more western with less pressure, but I did not find anything that took my fancy.
Refreshed, we continued on the Hathepsut temple. Originally a total ruin, it was reconstructed as best possible with the help of Polish workers and was the only temple known to have three levels. The canny queen Hatshepsut, widow of Tutmosis III father, did not want to give up her role as queen, therefore married her son of eight and effectively imprisoned him and continued to reign.
This was not popular and amongst other ways to overcome this, she creatd the myth that she was a goddess (hence ruler by divine right). In part to support this story, she commissioned her temple, facing towards Karnak and Luxor on the other side of the mountains to the Valley of the Kings. At the same time, since she was King, she had her tomb in the Valley of the Kings constructed on the side closest to her temple, (with a connecting passage?) effectively allowing her to shortcut the journey from the present to the afterlife. This apparently was too much for the priests who, with the young King, arranged for her demise.
Because it had been impossible to align all the fragments of the temple, a large part of it was reconstructed with embedded fragments where they could be placed. In the light morning sun, the temple was blindingly bright. The long stepped ramp leading from ground level to the first floor, gave way to another smaller plaza from which the second ramp rose. At each level, there were colonnades left and right. Right at the top, the last plaza led to a gated inner court which in turn led to an inner temple, which we could not enter.
On the return journey, we stopped off briefly to view the battered statues known as the Colossi of Mnemnon, the sole standing remnants of a former temple.
The evening's entertainment was a treasure hunt. I gave it a miss for once, however our A team of Tony, Angie, Liz, Jenna, Dan and Zoe won under Louise's masterful direction (so I heard later)!
We began with tomb KV 1 (Kings Valley tomb 1), that of Ramesses IV. It illustrated the common pattern that we should look for in all the tombs.
- The king at the entrance beginning to answer the innumerable questions by the gods that would allow him to open the invisible door into the spirit world.
- The corridor with: the 10 gods of days of the week, 24 gods for every hour of the day, 3 gods for the three weeks in a month,12 gods of the months of the year, four gods for the seasons and the 360 gods for every day of the year, making 413 gods; the answers to questions by the gods, all starting with “I did not...”; rows of prisoners who would do the bidding of the king in the afterlife.
- The main chamber with the book of the second life, which includes the book of the dead, which in turn includes the book of the gate and the book of the hours.
- The rear chamber or vestibule for storage of goods. Because of the limited space in a tomb, the number of workers that could work in the space was also limited, meaning that a tomb in the Valley of Kings could take as much as 20 years.
If the king died in the meantime, there would only be 7 months to finish any remaining work. So different strategies were used, such as plastering and painting or even almost cartoon like. One King specified that the tomb chamber be completed first and the rest be done later so that at least his burial chamber would be ready in the event of a premature death.
The tomb of Ramesses IV was one of the shorter ones, so the texts were more limited in the corridor. However, the presence of colour was a revelation. The goddess Nut was spread in two aspects over the ceiling of the main chamber, representing the sky at night and during the day. Stars on a blue sky filled the space between the body of the goddess and the ceiling edge. The second tomb visited was of Ramesses VII which was longer and the final tomb was that of Ramesses IX.
The valley of the kings was like an oven by 10am as we moved on to visit an alabaster factory. We were welcomed by an ebullient owner of the family run business, who had his staff piping in in chorus with different catch phrases during the introduction and demonstration. The stone products could not only be made from alabaster, but also moonstone and others.
Objects, vases and figurines could either be hand-made or machined. Ironically, the hand made ones were thinner and lighter and cheaper than the machined ones. The reason being the high cost of machinery as opposed to the low cost of labour. The selling was more western with less pressure, but I did not find anything that took my fancy.
Refreshed, we continued on the Hathepsut temple. Originally a total ruin, it was reconstructed as best possible with the help of Polish workers and was the only temple known to have three levels. The canny queen Hatshepsut, widow of Tutmosis III father, did not want to give up her role as queen, therefore married her son of eight and effectively imprisoned him and continued to reign.
This was not popular and amongst other ways to overcome this, she creatd the myth that she was a goddess (hence ruler by divine right). In part to support this story, she commissioned her temple, facing towards Karnak and Luxor on the other side of the mountains to the Valley of the Kings. At the same time, since she was King, she had her tomb in the Valley of the Kings constructed on the side closest to her temple, (with a connecting passage?) effectively allowing her to shortcut the journey from the present to the afterlife. This apparently was too much for the priests who, with the young King, arranged for her demise.
Because it had been impossible to align all the fragments of the temple, a large part of it was reconstructed with embedded fragments where they could be placed. In the light morning sun, the temple was blindingly bright. The long stepped ramp leading from ground level to the first floor, gave way to another smaller plaza from which the second ramp rose. At each level, there were colonnades left and right. Right at the top, the last plaza led to a gated inner court which in turn led to an inner temple, which we could not enter.
On the return journey, we stopped off briefly to view the battered statues known as the Colossi of Mnemnon, the sole standing remnants of a former temple.
The evening's entertainment was a treasure hunt. I gave it a miss for once, however our A team of Tony, Angie, Liz, Jenna, Dan and Zoe won under Louise's masterful direction (so I heard later)!
Sunday, 18 September 2011
Saturday, 3rd September Aswan dams, Papyrus and Nubians
As with the previous days, I had had to resort to taking painkillers due to the recurring pain in my jaw. It would be fine after an overnight break but tea or brushing teeth would initiate a delayed onset of growing pain that would either gradually fade or reach a crescendo over an hour. Despite the antibiotics, the situation appeared to be getting worse. Worried about the my small pack of painkillers that had almost been depleted, I requested reception try to purchase some for me.
The mornings trip began with a trip to the two dams, the British one completed around 1906, which, whilst being one of the largest dams of the day, still failed to control the Nile floods. The road across was one vehicle wide as we crossed, downstream the rocks of the cataracts were revealed, whilst upstream there was a sizeable lake, with cruisers and crocodile netting.
We did not stop but drove on to the High Dam, the third largest in the world. At its base, the foundations were 960m wide and it reached a height of (111m). This was not apparent on the approach as we only saw the tip above the waters. Security was very tight both to get on and then when we got out. Whilst photography was permitted, zoom lenses or video were prohibited. Using my 14mm to 40mm lens immediately resulted in a soldier approaching me and it was only the intervention of Osama that avoided my having to stop taking photos.
The lake, that had seemed large behind the British built dam now looked puny compared to Lake Nasser, which stretchee to the horizon and lost itself left and right in flooded valleys. We were now on crocodile watch as these upper reaches of the Nile do harbour them. Apart from a tell tale v-ripple moving away from us parallel to the dam, we did not see any obviously basking.
The photo-session over we drove on to a small harbour on Lake Nasser to catch a motor boat to the island with the Temple of Philae, which we could see in the distance from the High Dam. It was one of the many temples that had been rescued from the inevitable flooding once the high dam was completed. As with all the monuments threatened with flooding, The temple of Philae was relocated stone by stone onto a suitable future island in the lake.
This was out first trip by boat. Everyone had to bring along their lifejacket, found under the beds in our rooms. The boats themselves were about 10m long, wide bellied with a flat deck and a bench along the sides, plus one across the centre of the boat. A large rectangular roof covered the seating area to provide welcome shade and the captain sat by his outboard motor at the back. We piled on and stored the lifejackets under the benches as we gently cruised towards the temple island. Arriving at the jetty we found the souvenir sellers with their wares on the mat. However, we had already had an Osama approved seller of necklaces and scarves on ours from which Louise bought two necklaces and I bought a camel bone one. At £E40 (£4), a good price for a future microscopy sample!
The Temple at Philae was dedicated to Osiris and Isis and linked to a tale of true love. Osiris was the god of fertility and lord of the dead and married to his sister Isis, goddess of magic and motherhood & maternity. His brother Seth god of sandstorms was married to the other sister Nephtis goddess of the west. Seth was incredibly jealous of Osiris, who was extremely popular and killed him. To ensure he could not recover, Seth cut Osiris's body into 14 parts and spread them all across the kingdom. The distraught Isis and Nephtis looked all over and collected all the body parts that they could find, bar the penis which had been eaten by a fish, which she found using magic and managed to reattach to Osiris. Then Isis brought Osiris back to life and slept with him to create Horus who would avenge his fathers death by his uncle. In is first attempt to do this, Horus lost his first eye when Seth gauged it out – a lesser loss as he had at the same time castrated Seth. Fortunately, Isis healed Horus's eye for him (the lost eye is the moon according to myth, the right eye being the sun). Horus engaged Seth in battle again and victorious, on the point of killing him, Isis and Nephtis intervened and completed the killing to ensure that it was final. Seth later becomes a divinity of unknown function after 300years of the day of Judgement.
Philae was initially began the construction in the third century BC as the last temple in Egypt during the thirtieth dynasty, by Nectnabu II (also created the last pylon of Karnak). In the fourth century AD, the Greeks and Romans continued working on the temple. However, they did not quite finish the work due to a lack of labour and disagreements amongst the late Greeks and Romans. Justinian then finally closed the temple as Christianity took hold. After Philae, it was back to Aswan to the papyrus factory. In total contrast to our ebullient guides, we were given a gentle introduction to the principles of creating papyrus by the resident expert.
The papyrus reed was given special distinction by the ancient Egyptians because its leaves looked like a sunburst, reminding them of Ra, and the stem has a triangular cross-section, with the holy number three.
The outer peel is tough and brittle, so is cut off. Then thin slices of the pith are cut longitudinally. They are beaten with mallets to break the fibres and then pressed with a rolling pin or mangle. The thin strips are then placed back in water where they oxidise slowly. After 6 days they are a light straw yellow. If left for 12 days the strips are a darker brown.
The strips are then arranged on an absorbant surface, first in one orientation, overlapping like ship planking. A second layer is then arranged over these at 90 degrees to the first layer. Note that the size of the final sheet is predetermined by the length of strips used. Another absorbent fabric is placed on top of the provisional sheet. The sandwich is then placed in a press for more than a week (check) until the sheet is dry. The final papyrus is flexible and strong. Originally, the ancient Egyptians would prepare papyrus sheets with the designs required for carving on temples etc.. Most of these were lost during the fire of the great library of Alexandria. Modern artists are currently licensed to prepare copies of original stone engravings on papyrus. The work has to be approved and individually signed.
The papyrus factory had a collection of fine signed artwork and after serious consideration, we purchased some smaller pieces.
Afterwards, we took a motorboat for a quick half hour tour around Elephantine Island.
After returning to the boat for lunch, we joined a small party to go on the visit to a Nubian village. The start was adventurous in that the traditional motorboat was moored outside the outer, starboard door of our boat, separated by another boat in-between. We therefore stepped out onto the roof of the first boat and then carefully crossed to the second boat. Mohammed, our Nubian guide, was a polite elderly gentleman and together we assisted those having to turn around on the roof to go down the narrow steel ladder to reach the passenger deck below. The obligatory life belts were more a hindrance than a help.
Once safely settled it was off to collect a few more passengers from one of the other cruise boats before setting sail for the Lord Kitchener`s island. We took a leisurely stroll from one end to the other, with Mohammed giving us an introduction to some of the important regional plants and their uses. The most memorable for me was the thorn tree species used for Christ`s crown of thorns, an innocuous looking shrub until you saw the rose like thorns along its stem. Just before we boarded the boat, I spied another building nearby, labelled “Tissue Culture”, a reminder of my plant biotech past.
The trip was then on to Elephantine Island, which Mohammed thought was most likely due to a distant association with the ivory trade. Populated with two Nubian villages, this was part of the Nubian relocation after their lands were flooded by the great Dam.
We were taken to Mohammed's home, which also included his small museum called “Animalia”. The entrance takes you around three sides of the house to the outside reception where guests were received and could sleep overnight. The path was made of sand – for a reason. In the morning, the wife could see any tracks of scorpions or snakes that had come into the area overnight.
Wandering back round we came to the communal, partially shaded courtyard of the house, from which radiated the kitchen and the bedroom. The walls were decorated with eyes, showing a link to the distant past with the eye of Horus. There was also a hand of Fatima and a puffer fish. All are symbols to ward off evil spirits. The story of the puffer fish is that they appear immediately before the fertile Nile floods. Being poisonous, they are not eaten but dried as a protective house charm. The main feature of the kitchen was the beehive oven, again with a hand print. Above it were triangular niches in which the ancestors of the Nubians come to live.
The small museum had walls dedicated to different themes; insects, wildlife, fish, the effects of the High Dam and the role of women in Nubian society. According to Mohammed, women are respected in Nubian society. They also maintain the artistic heritage.
The key plant for the Nubian's is the date palm. The wood from the trunk is used for simple foot bridges etc.. The central stem of the palm leaves is used to make furniture and the individual leaflets are excellent material for basket-work. Individual leaflets can be stained in different natural colours, derived from minerals and plants to create geometric patterns.
We walked through the rest of the village, past mud bricks in the process of drying. The buildings were arranged close to each other, just one or two storeys high, often with characteristic white domes and a packed dirt path between them. Mud brick construction was used in many of them but the newer larger houses also included brick and concrete as the villagers adopted new materials.
The overall image was of a culture breaking out of poverty that, if one ignored the satellite dishes and tangle of electrical cables strung between houses, would not have been out of place a couple of centuries ago.
The trip back to the Commodore by boat was through the narrower passages between the islands so that we could see the remains of the ancient granite extraction and the wild birds. We saw little egrets, pied woodpeckers, moorhen, grey heron, guaka herons to name but a few.
Reception had come up trumps with both paracetamol and ibuprofen during the day. I began taking paracetamol at 4h intervals and, if the pain returned earlier, interspersed this with ibuprofen which gave a welcome relief at last, suggesting that the main issue might be an inflammation of the gum.
The evening's entertainment was provided by the Nubian dancers. I gave it a miss and went to bed early as I was shattered after the busy day.
The mornings trip began with a trip to the two dams, the British one completed around 1906, which, whilst being one of the largest dams of the day, still failed to control the Nile floods. The road across was one vehicle wide as we crossed, downstream the rocks of the cataracts were revealed, whilst upstream there was a sizeable lake, with cruisers and crocodile netting.
We did not stop but drove on to the High Dam, the third largest in the world. At its base, the foundations were 960m wide and it reached a height of (111m). This was not apparent on the approach as we only saw the tip above the waters. Security was very tight both to get on and then when we got out. Whilst photography was permitted, zoom lenses or video were prohibited. Using my 14mm to 40mm lens immediately resulted in a soldier approaching me and it was only the intervention of Osama that avoided my having to stop taking photos.
The lake, that had seemed large behind the British built dam now looked puny compared to Lake Nasser, which stretchee to the horizon and lost itself left and right in flooded valleys. We were now on crocodile watch as these upper reaches of the Nile do harbour them. Apart from a tell tale v-ripple moving away from us parallel to the dam, we did not see any obviously basking.
The photo-session over we drove on to a small harbour on Lake Nasser to catch a motor boat to the island with the Temple of Philae, which we could see in the distance from the High Dam. It was one of the many temples that had been rescued from the inevitable flooding once the high dam was completed. As with all the monuments threatened with flooding, The temple of Philae was relocated stone by stone onto a suitable future island in the lake.
This was out first trip by boat. Everyone had to bring along their lifejacket, found under the beds in our rooms. The boats themselves were about 10m long, wide bellied with a flat deck and a bench along the sides, plus one across the centre of the boat. A large rectangular roof covered the seating area to provide welcome shade and the captain sat by his outboard motor at the back. We piled on and stored the lifejackets under the benches as we gently cruised towards the temple island. Arriving at the jetty we found the souvenir sellers with their wares on the mat. However, we had already had an Osama approved seller of necklaces and scarves on ours from which Louise bought two necklaces and I bought a camel bone one. At £E40 (£4), a good price for a future microscopy sample!
The Temple at Philae was dedicated to Osiris and Isis and linked to a tale of true love. Osiris was the god of fertility and lord of the dead and married to his sister Isis, goddess of magic and motherhood & maternity. His brother Seth god of sandstorms was married to the other sister Nephtis goddess of the west. Seth was incredibly jealous of Osiris, who was extremely popular and killed him. To ensure he could not recover, Seth cut Osiris's body into 14 parts and spread them all across the kingdom. The distraught Isis and Nephtis looked all over and collected all the body parts that they could find, bar the penis which had been eaten by a fish, which she found using magic and managed to reattach to Osiris. Then Isis brought Osiris back to life and slept with him to create Horus who would avenge his fathers death by his uncle. In is first attempt to do this, Horus lost his first eye when Seth gauged it out – a lesser loss as he had at the same time castrated Seth. Fortunately, Isis healed Horus's eye for him (the lost eye is the moon according to myth, the right eye being the sun). Horus engaged Seth in battle again and victorious, on the point of killing him, Isis and Nephtis intervened and completed the killing to ensure that it was final. Seth later becomes a divinity of unknown function after 300years of the day of Judgement.
Philae was initially began the construction in the third century BC as the last temple in Egypt during the thirtieth dynasty, by Nectnabu II (also created the last pylon of Karnak). In the fourth century AD, the Greeks and Romans continued working on the temple. However, they did not quite finish the work due to a lack of labour and disagreements amongst the late Greeks and Romans. Justinian then finally closed the temple as Christianity took hold. After Philae, it was back to Aswan to the papyrus factory. In total contrast to our ebullient guides, we were given a gentle introduction to the principles of creating papyrus by the resident expert.
The papyrus reed was given special distinction by the ancient Egyptians because its leaves looked like a sunburst, reminding them of Ra, and the stem has a triangular cross-section, with the holy number three.
The outer peel is tough and brittle, so is cut off. Then thin slices of the pith are cut longitudinally. They are beaten with mallets to break the fibres and then pressed with a rolling pin or mangle. The thin strips are then placed back in water where they oxidise slowly. After 6 days they are a light straw yellow. If left for 12 days the strips are a darker brown.
The strips are then arranged on an absorbant surface, first in one orientation, overlapping like ship planking. A second layer is then arranged over these at 90 degrees to the first layer. Note that the size of the final sheet is predetermined by the length of strips used. Another absorbent fabric is placed on top of the provisional sheet. The sandwich is then placed in a press for more than a week (check) until the sheet is dry. The final papyrus is flexible and strong. Originally, the ancient Egyptians would prepare papyrus sheets with the designs required for carving on temples etc.. Most of these were lost during the fire of the great library of Alexandria. Modern artists are currently licensed to prepare copies of original stone engravings on papyrus. The work has to be approved and individually signed.
The papyrus factory had a collection of fine signed artwork and after serious consideration, we purchased some smaller pieces.
Afterwards, we took a motorboat for a quick half hour tour around Elephantine Island.
After returning to the boat for lunch, we joined a small party to go on the visit to a Nubian village. The start was adventurous in that the traditional motorboat was moored outside the outer, starboard door of our boat, separated by another boat in-between. We therefore stepped out onto the roof of the first boat and then carefully crossed to the second boat. Mohammed, our Nubian guide, was a polite elderly gentleman and together we assisted those having to turn around on the roof to go down the narrow steel ladder to reach the passenger deck below. The obligatory life belts were more a hindrance than a help.
Once safely settled it was off to collect a few more passengers from one of the other cruise boats before setting sail for the Lord Kitchener`s island. We took a leisurely stroll from one end to the other, with Mohammed giving us an introduction to some of the important regional plants and their uses. The most memorable for me was the thorn tree species used for Christ`s crown of thorns, an innocuous looking shrub until you saw the rose like thorns along its stem. Just before we boarded the boat, I spied another building nearby, labelled “Tissue Culture”, a reminder of my plant biotech past.
The trip was then on to Elephantine Island, which Mohammed thought was most likely due to a distant association with the ivory trade. Populated with two Nubian villages, this was part of the Nubian relocation after their lands were flooded by the great Dam.
We were taken to Mohammed's home, which also included his small museum called “Animalia”. The entrance takes you around three sides of the house to the outside reception where guests were received and could sleep overnight. The path was made of sand – for a reason. In the morning, the wife could see any tracks of scorpions or snakes that had come into the area overnight.
Wandering back round we came to the communal, partially shaded courtyard of the house, from which radiated the kitchen and the bedroom. The walls were decorated with eyes, showing a link to the distant past with the eye of Horus. There was also a hand of Fatima and a puffer fish. All are symbols to ward off evil spirits. The story of the puffer fish is that they appear immediately before the fertile Nile floods. Being poisonous, they are not eaten but dried as a protective house charm. The main feature of the kitchen was the beehive oven, again with a hand print. Above it were triangular niches in which the ancestors of the Nubians come to live.
The small museum had walls dedicated to different themes; insects, wildlife, fish, the effects of the High Dam and the role of women in Nubian society. According to Mohammed, women are respected in Nubian society. They also maintain the artistic heritage.
The key plant for the Nubian's is the date palm. The wood from the trunk is used for simple foot bridges etc.. The central stem of the palm leaves is used to make furniture and the individual leaflets are excellent material for basket-work. Individual leaflets can be stained in different natural colours, derived from minerals and plants to create geometric patterns.
We walked through the rest of the village, past mud bricks in the process of drying. The buildings were arranged close to each other, just one or two storeys high, often with characteristic white domes and a packed dirt path between them. Mud brick construction was used in many of them but the newer larger houses also included brick and concrete as the villagers adopted new materials.
The overall image was of a culture breaking out of poverty that, if one ignored the satellite dishes and tangle of electrical cables strung between houses, would not have been out of place a couple of centuries ago.
The trip back to the Commodore by boat was through the narrower passages between the islands so that we could see the remains of the ancient granite extraction and the wild birds. We saw little egrets, pied woodpeckers, moorhen, grey heron, guaka herons to name but a few.
Reception had come up trumps with both paracetamol and ibuprofen during the day. I began taking paracetamol at 4h intervals and, if the pain returned earlier, interspersed this with ibuprofen which gave a welcome relief at last, suggesting that the main issue might be an inflammation of the gum.
The evening's entertainment was provided by the Nubian dancers. I gave it a miss and went to bed early as I was shattered after the busy day.
Friday, 2nd September: The temple at Kom Ombo and onwards to Aswan
The boat had continued sailing during the night until docking at Kom Ombo at around 5am whilst we were all fast asleep, except for fellow traveller Colin who was up for a quick cigarette break.
Smoking was a notable feature on this trip after the relatively smoke-free UK. Smokers would be puffing away on the sundeck at all times of the day, or outside the bus, at the sites. Fortunately, the inside of the boat and buses was smoke-free.
The temple at Kom Ombo was a short walk from the boat, along the promenade (check whether east or west bank).
The first new thing learnt was the progression of the friezes from the outer wall inwards. We started on the right hand outside wall which depicted the anointing of the pharaoh Neos Dionysos by the gods Thoth and Horus on the left and in the presence of Sobek on the right.
The inside face of the same wall depicted the coronation of Neos Dionysos and the wall faciing that, the bringing of gifts to the Gods. The latter wall was also notable for the cartouches of Ptolemy, followed by Cleopatra's mother and then Cleopatra herself. Cleopatra's cartouche was not preceded by the King symbol as she had decided not to become King.
The figures were notable for their slightly more accurate physiology, due to the Greek influence in this late era.
Further in, still on the right hand side of the temple, was the only depiction of a calendar from ancient Egypt. It showed days, counted 1 to 10, month and season. Kom Ombo temple is also special for the listing of medical tools and birthing chairs.
After Osama's explanations, we had about 40 minutes to wander around ourselves. One of the unusual figures I wanted to photograph was the god of the Nile with his elongated breasts that gave the Nile water.
It was back onto the boat by 10am after a 2h excursion, Louise and I being the last to get there, before the boat set sail soon afterwards towards Aswan. We passed the very occasional other Nile cruiser, most of which looked very empty and the number of sailing boats began to increase. Most of the afternoon was spent in leisure on deck, mainly at the front, watching the scenery go by.
Aswan was heralded by a lovely riverside mosque before we hit the actual sprawl along the river. The quays were full of Nile cruisers, of which the majority were mothballed due to the horrendous decline in tourism during the days of the revolution. Even successful companies were only running a sixth of the boats they usually would have. However, things were definitely on the increase. Whilst in June, one cruise ship with its 85 staff had 10 passengers. The cruise preceding ours already had 36 and our boat now held 94. There is still a long way to go.
Louise and I bought our Gallabeyas (traditional Egyptian gowns) in preparation for the evening's party. I chose white with blue trimming and a sheik style headdress, Louise dark blue with gold decoration and a old beaded headdress to hold her shawl.
Since dinner was not until eight and we had a couple of hours ahead of us yet just after sunset, we debated going to the market, a ten minute walk away. We approached some of our other friends to see if we could get a group together but they were relaxing with drinks or preparing for the party. So we plucked up the courage to venture forth alone.
The main fear was being pestered by hawkers, because our current experience was one of tenacious persistence when catching us at gates to temples or the short walks from the coach back to the boat.
It was a balmy evening as we set foot outside and braved the first run past the now mercifully few hawkers. The promenade was filling with the locals out for their walks. There were many women, whilst wearing head-scarves and long dresses, these were often tastefully coloured. They would either be in groups on their own or with their men or friends/family in conversation as they took the evening air or checking their mobiles like people everywhere.
The time came to cross the road, a dangerous enterprise even at the pedestrian crossing we found as the red traffic lights were only observed on a whim. An obvious way to curb the impatience of drivers and pedestrians was the presence of displays above the lights counting down how many seconds till the next light change. We laughed in delight as our red man on the pedestrian light changed to a green one that was a running animated figure urging us to cross with 20,19,18,17 seconds remaining.
We walked along the boulevard towards the pink station with the occasional truck or car frenetically driving past, or the resting horse pulled carts with their skinny horses and chatting drivers. By the station we turned right into the Tourist Market and wandered along.
We eventually perfected the strategy required to minimise shopkeeper forays. We sauntered, feigning disinterest, glances would sweep over the shops ahead without too great a display of excitement. If approached, we would say Laa, Shockran (No, thank you) and wander on.
The occasional shopkeeper would be more persistent and I suddenly became Welsh. “Dim ysmyggy, maer tebod yn y gegin”, I would say apologetically, which left them confused and in most instances they left us alone.
There was a lot of cheap tourist trash on sale, but also lovely fabrics and patterned items. Almost every other shop was a spice shop with small baskets of spices piled high.
Eventually we returned back the way we came, relieved and happy that we had made the effort.
We dressed up in our robes and joined the dinner throng at eight. The photographer was already there taking shots of couples and then groups on the tables. Newly Arab men were accompanied by their glittering partners. Tony had turned up with a very fetching fez to match his gown and his wife Angie had kohled her eyes and transformed into a potential fortune teller. Liz sported a similar gown to Louise and Jenna was initially feeling very self conscious in her short red dress with a profusion of beads that really brought out the blue in her eyes. Myra and her daughter Amanda were in light and dark blue Gallabeyas respectively, matched by Jacqui in a cyan dress. Inspirational garb of the day was the guide Mustafa who came in pink with matching watch and glasses, which presaged how the night was going to unfold.
The real stars of the night were our guides Osama, Mustafa and Bishoy. They organised a series of games that got everyone onto the dance floor. Later that night, Bishoy gave an excellent impersonation of a female dancer, down to the finest detail, such as hand gestures and dainty tempting steps. He also brought Osama on stage for a dual dance performance.
Louise gave an excellent performance when the ladies were featuring their alluring dances for one game and Jenna surprised our group by wholeheartedly throwing herself into the evening, winning one of the games! I found myself with a group of men in a potato rolling competition. The objective was to try to hit a potato along the ground to a distant winning line – using what I can only describe as a hanging testicle made from another potato dangling on string. More by luck than judgement, I actually won by a whisker!
Despite the threat of an early start the next morning, it was not till after midnight that we found our ways back to bed.
Smoking was a notable feature on this trip after the relatively smoke-free UK. Smokers would be puffing away on the sundeck at all times of the day, or outside the bus, at the sites. Fortunately, the inside of the boat and buses was smoke-free.
The temple at Kom Ombo was a short walk from the boat, along the promenade (check whether east or west bank).
The first new thing learnt was the progression of the friezes from the outer wall inwards. We started on the right hand outside wall which depicted the anointing of the pharaoh Neos Dionysos by the gods Thoth and Horus on the left and in the presence of Sobek on the right.
The inside face of the same wall depicted the coronation of Neos Dionysos and the wall faciing that, the bringing of gifts to the Gods. The latter wall was also notable for the cartouches of Ptolemy, followed by Cleopatra's mother and then Cleopatra herself. Cleopatra's cartouche was not preceded by the King symbol as she had decided not to become King.
The figures were notable for their slightly more accurate physiology, due to the Greek influence in this late era.
Further in, still on the right hand side of the temple, was the only depiction of a calendar from ancient Egypt. It showed days, counted 1 to 10, month and season. Kom Ombo temple is also special for the listing of medical tools and birthing chairs.
After Osama's explanations, we had about 40 minutes to wander around ourselves. One of the unusual figures I wanted to photograph was the god of the Nile with his elongated breasts that gave the Nile water.
It was back onto the boat by 10am after a 2h excursion, Louise and I being the last to get there, before the boat set sail soon afterwards towards Aswan. We passed the very occasional other Nile cruiser, most of which looked very empty and the number of sailing boats began to increase. Most of the afternoon was spent in leisure on deck, mainly at the front, watching the scenery go by.
Aswan was heralded by a lovely riverside mosque before we hit the actual sprawl along the river. The quays were full of Nile cruisers, of which the majority were mothballed due to the horrendous decline in tourism during the days of the revolution. Even successful companies were only running a sixth of the boats they usually would have. However, things were definitely on the increase. Whilst in June, one cruise ship with its 85 staff had 10 passengers. The cruise preceding ours already had 36 and our boat now held 94. There is still a long way to go.
Louise and I bought our Gallabeyas (traditional Egyptian gowns) in preparation for the evening's party. I chose white with blue trimming and a sheik style headdress, Louise dark blue with gold decoration and a old beaded headdress to hold her shawl.
Since dinner was not until eight and we had a couple of hours ahead of us yet just after sunset, we debated going to the market, a ten minute walk away. We approached some of our other friends to see if we could get a group together but they were relaxing with drinks or preparing for the party. So we plucked up the courage to venture forth alone.
The main fear was being pestered by hawkers, because our current experience was one of tenacious persistence when catching us at gates to temples or the short walks from the coach back to the boat.
It was a balmy evening as we set foot outside and braved the first run past the now mercifully few hawkers. The promenade was filling with the locals out for their walks. There were many women, whilst wearing head-scarves and long dresses, these were often tastefully coloured. They would either be in groups on their own or with their men or friends/family in conversation as they took the evening air or checking their mobiles like people everywhere.
The time came to cross the road, a dangerous enterprise even at the pedestrian crossing we found as the red traffic lights were only observed on a whim. An obvious way to curb the impatience of drivers and pedestrians was the presence of displays above the lights counting down how many seconds till the next light change. We laughed in delight as our red man on the pedestrian light changed to a green one that was a running animated figure urging us to cross with 20,19,18,17 seconds remaining.
We walked along the boulevard towards the pink station with the occasional truck or car frenetically driving past, or the resting horse pulled carts with their skinny horses and chatting drivers. By the station we turned right into the Tourist Market and wandered along.
We eventually perfected the strategy required to minimise shopkeeper forays. We sauntered, feigning disinterest, glances would sweep over the shops ahead without too great a display of excitement. If approached, we would say Laa, Shockran (No, thank you) and wander on.
The occasional shopkeeper would be more persistent and I suddenly became Welsh. “Dim ysmyggy, maer tebod yn y gegin”, I would say apologetically, which left them confused and in most instances they left us alone.
There was a lot of cheap tourist trash on sale, but also lovely fabrics and patterned items. Almost every other shop was a spice shop with small baskets of spices piled high.
Eventually we returned back the way we came, relieved and happy that we had made the effort.
We dressed up in our robes and joined the dinner throng at eight. The photographer was already there taking shots of couples and then groups on the tables. Newly Arab men were accompanied by their glittering partners. Tony had turned up with a very fetching fez to match his gown and his wife Angie had kohled her eyes and transformed into a potential fortune teller. Liz sported a similar gown to Louise and Jenna was initially feeling very self conscious in her short red dress with a profusion of beads that really brought out the blue in her eyes. Myra and her daughter Amanda were in light and dark blue Gallabeyas respectively, matched by Jacqui in a cyan dress. Inspirational garb of the day was the guide Mustafa who came in pink with matching watch and glasses, which presaged how the night was going to unfold.
The real stars of the night were our guides Osama, Mustafa and Bishoy. They organised a series of games that got everyone onto the dance floor. Later that night, Bishoy gave an excellent impersonation of a female dancer, down to the finest detail, such as hand gestures and dainty tempting steps. He also brought Osama on stage for a dual dance performance.
Louise gave an excellent performance when the ladies were featuring their alluring dances for one game and Jenna surprised our group by wholeheartedly throwing herself into the evening, winning one of the games! I found myself with a group of men in a potato rolling competition. The objective was to try to hit a potato along the ground to a distant winning line – using what I can only describe as a hanging testicle made from another potato dangling on string. More by luck than judgement, I actually won by a whisker!
Despite the threat of an early start the next morning, it was not till after midnight that we found our ways back to bed.
Thursday, 1st September: The temples of Karnak and Luxor, upriver to Esna
We woke up before the early morning call at 7am, covered ourselves suitably with sun-cream factor 50, dressed and made out way to a quick frugal breakfast (personal restraint over rich variety presented) before the 8am briefing with our Thomson tour guide Siobhan.
At 9am (or a bit after) we set off in an air conditioned bus with our Egyptologist, Osama, to the Karnak temple complex. The temperature was already rising in the thirties centigrade as we disembarked and wandered into the museum at the entrance, Osama had given us a good introduction to the numerology of the ancient Egyptians, starting with the 360 day calendar (with five days that were excluded before the start of the next years calendar) made up of 12 months of 30 days, each month having 3 weeks of 10 days.
Disused since the end of the Ptolomeic period, Karnac had become buried beneath the sands. Earthquakes of magnitude 13 , nine and eight over the intervening millennia had also led to the collapse of walls and colonnades that were only held together by the weight of the layered stone. Climate change and human intervention by damming had also led to higher Nile floods, so that by the eighteenth century, the remains could be visited by boat at times of high water.
We crossed the large plaza before the entrance to the first, West and Nile facing temple gates at Karnak. These were the most recent and uncompleted Ptolomeic building. As one passed through and on to the next temple , the hypostyle hall and onwards, past the sacred lake – we moved ever deeper into the past, to the very first temple built more than three millennia ago.
A Southern complex marked the start of the avenue of sphinxes that ultimately led to Luxor. The remains of the mud-brick ramp still remained by the Ptolomeic gate and Osama explained how the decorations on the walls of any temple were carved from the top down as the mud brick was removed layer by layer after the mounting of the final cap stones. The one exception were the columns. These were made of roughly hewn blocks. When fully exposed, these were surrounded by wooden scaffolding. Plumb lines were used to ensure that the columns could be carved vertically and more accurately.
We could also see the flood marks halfway up the walls. In the hypostyle hall, we were taught to recognise the different cartouches of the birth-names and the royal- names of the kings. Birthnames were preceded by a sun disc and a goose (beloved of Ra) and royal names by bee/wasp . Only kings were ever shown in hieroglyphs (female Pharaohs were kings), wives were not. Kings did not hold anything unless it was an offering. Deities were shown holding an ankh and a staff – male, female and child gods were all represented. Reading hieroglyphs, the direction was indicated both by the bar at the base of a cartouche text and by the way birds faced – one reads towards the bird face.
Looking at the hypostyle columns, we could see that they were identically decorated in mirrored pairs (after it was pointed out by Osama). A number of the cartouches were far more deeply engraved than the others. These belonged to Rameses II. The temple had been designed by the father but the son replaced the father's cartouches with his own, engraving them more deeply so that his would not suffer the same fate.
The heat was having its effect on us, now reaching the forties Centigrade, despite using any available shade and drinking lots of water, so we were glad of the respite in the air conditioned coach as we drove to Luxor to see the temple there.
Dating mostly from the 14th century BC, it was predominantly dedicated to the festival of Opet. The temple had also had been buried to a large part under the sand, even by Roman times. Early Christians, who were persecuted in the first centuries BC, hid out and created their own sanctuary within the partially exposed temple, beheading the statues and painting their Last Supper on the walls.
Later, the Muslims built mosque in the ruins. When modern excavations removed the sand, the entrance to the mosque was left out or reach and a new access had to be carved from the new ground level up to the mosque.
Under the Christian painting was an opening to a temple dedicated by and to Alexander the Great. The inside of the outer walls was decorated in the older raised hieroglyphs. The walls of Alexander's temple within were decorated with inset engraving and numerous cartouches of Alexander’s transliterated name.
Reaching Northwards from the temple was the other end of the avenue of sphinxes which was only partially excavated and disappeared under the rest of Luxor. Plans are under way to remove up to 75% of the city to reveal the full avenue and return the unobstructed view between the Luxor temple and Karnak.
The return to the Commodore for a buffet lunch just after1pm was a welcome relief from the heat. Moving onto deck afterwards, the constant strong breeze and shade, with plenty of drinks, made the afternoon an enjoyable relaxed affair.
The boat left Luxor just before 2pm and steamed upstream. The verdant banks of reeds, date palms and fields were backed by beige mountains against a bright sky. Children waved and called whenever we passed them. There were a number of fishing boats, generally manned by two, one rowing, the other passing out the drift net and then slapping the water with a long pole to frighten the fish into the net.
Minarets indicated villages that would appear and then fall behind us downstream. At around 4pm we passed a larger village or complex of villages hidden behind date palms but identified by the cacophony of calls to prayer from the minarets that started at slightly different times, volumes and phrasing.
There were egrets fishing in the shallows, white donkeys and the occasional water buffalo. After tea and cake at around 4:30pm, Louise and I purchased some cotton traditional garments for tomorrow's evening festivities.
By 6pm we had reached the lock at Esna and were attacked by hawkers flouting their wares of multi-colored cotton clothes, both in small boats and on the lock quayside. In the darkness we watched the boat being guided through a second open lock, with little room on either side. There was a relaxed interchange of banter between a helper on the quayside and the sailors on deck. If the boat drifted to far to port, a rope would be fixed to a bollard on the quay and the sailors would use the on board fixtures to wind the rope around , in a slow release that would exert just enough tension to draw the boat back into line.
We showered and changed for a short cocktail party before dinner at 8pm, where we caught up on the days events with Tony, Angie, Liz and Jenny. The conversation continued on deck in the balmy night, interspersed by Egyptian Bingo. We finally made it to bed by midnight.
At 9am (or a bit after) we set off in an air conditioned bus with our Egyptologist, Osama, to the Karnak temple complex. The temperature was already rising in the thirties centigrade as we disembarked and wandered into the museum at the entrance, Osama had given us a good introduction to the numerology of the ancient Egyptians, starting with the 360 day calendar (with five days that were excluded before the start of the next years calendar) made up of 12 months of 30 days, each month having 3 weeks of 10 days.
Disused since the end of the Ptolomeic period, Karnac had become buried beneath the sands. Earthquakes of magnitude 13 , nine and eight over the intervening millennia had also led to the collapse of walls and colonnades that were only held together by the weight of the layered stone. Climate change and human intervention by damming had also led to higher Nile floods, so that by the eighteenth century, the remains could be visited by boat at times of high water.
We crossed the large plaza before the entrance to the first, West and Nile facing temple gates at Karnak. These were the most recent and uncompleted Ptolomeic building. As one passed through and on to the next temple , the hypostyle hall and onwards, past the sacred lake – we moved ever deeper into the past, to the very first temple built more than three millennia ago.
A Southern complex marked the start of the avenue of sphinxes that ultimately led to Luxor. The remains of the mud-brick ramp still remained by the Ptolomeic gate and Osama explained how the decorations on the walls of any temple were carved from the top down as the mud brick was removed layer by layer after the mounting of the final cap stones. The one exception were the columns. These were made of roughly hewn blocks. When fully exposed, these were surrounded by wooden scaffolding. Plumb lines were used to ensure that the columns could be carved vertically and more accurately.
We could also see the flood marks halfway up the walls. In the hypostyle hall, we were taught to recognise the different cartouches of the birth-names and the royal- names of the kings. Birthnames were preceded by a sun disc and a goose (beloved of Ra) and royal names by bee/wasp . Only kings were ever shown in hieroglyphs (female Pharaohs were kings), wives were not. Kings did not hold anything unless it was an offering. Deities were shown holding an ankh and a staff – male, female and child gods were all represented. Reading hieroglyphs, the direction was indicated both by the bar at the base of a cartouche text and by the way birds faced – one reads towards the bird face.
Looking at the hypostyle columns, we could see that they were identically decorated in mirrored pairs (after it was pointed out by Osama). A number of the cartouches were far more deeply engraved than the others. These belonged to Rameses II. The temple had been designed by the father but the son replaced the father's cartouches with his own, engraving them more deeply so that his would not suffer the same fate.
The heat was having its effect on us, now reaching the forties Centigrade, despite using any available shade and drinking lots of water, so we were glad of the respite in the air conditioned coach as we drove to Luxor to see the temple there.
Dating mostly from the 14th century BC, it was predominantly dedicated to the festival of Opet. The temple had also had been buried to a large part under the sand, even by Roman times. Early Christians, who were persecuted in the first centuries BC, hid out and created their own sanctuary within the partially exposed temple, beheading the statues and painting their Last Supper on the walls.
Later, the Muslims built mosque in the ruins. When modern excavations removed the sand, the entrance to the mosque was left out or reach and a new access had to be carved from the new ground level up to the mosque.
Under the Christian painting was an opening to a temple dedicated by and to Alexander the Great. The inside of the outer walls was decorated in the older raised hieroglyphs. The walls of Alexander's temple within were decorated with inset engraving and numerous cartouches of Alexander’s transliterated name.
Reaching Northwards from the temple was the other end of the avenue of sphinxes which was only partially excavated and disappeared under the rest of Luxor. Plans are under way to remove up to 75% of the city to reveal the full avenue and return the unobstructed view between the Luxor temple and Karnak.
The return to the Commodore for a buffet lunch just after1pm was a welcome relief from the heat. Moving onto deck afterwards, the constant strong breeze and shade, with plenty of drinks, made the afternoon an enjoyable relaxed affair.
The boat left Luxor just before 2pm and steamed upstream. The verdant banks of reeds, date palms and fields were backed by beige mountains against a bright sky. Children waved and called whenever we passed them. There were a number of fishing boats, generally manned by two, one rowing, the other passing out the drift net and then slapping the water with a long pole to frighten the fish into the net.
Minarets indicated villages that would appear and then fall behind us downstream. At around 4pm we passed a larger village or complex of villages hidden behind date palms but identified by the cacophony of calls to prayer from the minarets that started at slightly different times, volumes and phrasing.
There were egrets fishing in the shallows, white donkeys and the occasional water buffalo. After tea and cake at around 4:30pm, Louise and I purchased some cotton traditional garments for tomorrow's evening festivities.
By 6pm we had reached the lock at Esna and were attacked by hawkers flouting their wares of multi-colored cotton clothes, both in small boats and on the lock quayside. In the darkness we watched the boat being guided through a second open lock, with little room on either side. There was a relaxed interchange of banter between a helper on the quayside and the sailors on deck. If the boat drifted to far to port, a rope would be fixed to a bollard on the quay and the sailors would use the on board fixtures to wind the rope around , in a slow release that would exert just enough tension to draw the boat back into line.
We showered and changed for a short cocktail party before dinner at 8pm, where we caught up on the days events with Tony, Angie, Liz and Jenny. The conversation continued on deck in the balmy night, interspersed by Egyptian Bingo. We finally made it to bed by midnight.
Wed 31st August: The trip to Luxor, Egypt
The 08:34 train from Waterbeach was delayed by eight minutes but sped us into Kings Cross in time to wander over to St Pancras, aiming to catch the 10:10 to Gatwick, which was also six minutes late. Contrary to our expectations, we did not arrive at the North Terminal. This did give us the opportunity to take an elevated driverless shuttlebus, slightly scary as very little seemed to be holding it on as it sped around the corners.
Check in and going through security went easily and we boarded the plane, a 757-200, shortly before 1pm. Our flight was slightly delayed for take-off but we were assured of a fast flight due to a good tailwind of around 60 to 70 knots.
Although a five hour flight, it was relieved by the sight of Lake Constance as we flew down through Germany and into Austria. The jagged peaks of the alps and roads snaking through passes were visible between the breaks in the clouds. As we progressed east towards the Adriatic, clouds began to tower into storms that we serenely flew over until hitting the coastline and the ground became visible again.
The flight continued down the Albanian side of the Adriatic, with a gold mirrored ocean interrupted by dark crenelated islands. Beyond Greece, the Mediterranean was hidden from view by thin cloud until landfall on the continent of Africa.
The sun set with a gorgeous horizon of reds and oranges bleeding into a dark blues sky, where a crescent moon hung, heralding our arrival over Egypt. It took a further hour to reach Luxor as we followed the Nile, a dark ribbon snaking through the fairytale lights of the cities along it.
We found a friendly Egyptian welcome on arrival, interspersed with the usual bureaucracy of any immigration. Visas were quickly purchased (just under GBP10 each) and we found our way onto the number 10 bus to our boat and our Thomson tour rep Siobhan.
Already, the drive through Luxor hinted at historic sights, such as the Luxor Temple and the Avenue of Sphinxes. Streets were bustling with Egyptians out for the evening now that the burning sun had set.
Our boat on the Presidential Nile Cruise is "The Commodore". Louise introduced me into the strange mechanism of the safe-box in our cupboard. We had our first meal in the restaurant, meeting our future companions for the rest of the holiday, Tony, Angie, Liz and Jenny.
Whilst the others bade us good night, we wandered up to the bar and then onto the sun-deck, with its rattan chairs and tables, enjoying the cool 28 degC breeze off the Nile. We had cleverly not only ordered drinks but also asked for and received four bottles of water in preparation for tomorrows first excursion.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Shopping for Egypt and dancing with Venom
After writing my diary last night, I spent a couple of more hours dealing with a document conversion of a brochure for one fellow HBN member and with finalising Mr Wishart's banner. Finally tumbled into bed at 4am.
With the neighbours letting out the chicken which I am looking after for another neighbour first thing in the morning, a lie in was permitted. Late morning, Mrs T, Ms T and I took the Park and Ride into Cambridge to purchase some last minute items for the Egypt trip. The need was on the one hand for a medium sized suitcase and on the other for bags that could be used as hand luggage, without being too heavy prior to packing.
Protection of my balding head from North African sun and my modesty by the pool was also ensured by a new wide brimmed hat and a pair of swimming/water shorts.
The P&R bus back was quite full, so I found myself sitting next to a young lady who had obviously been hoping to avoid the fate of a stranger sitting next to her. We studiously ignored one another for a while until, unable to resist any longer, I started to engage her in conversation. It gradually emerged that I was sitting next to a member of a contemporary and/or street dance group, Venom, who had come a close second in the youth section of the national XXL Street Dance Championships a couple of weeks ago! Intelligent, with a broad string of qualifications and hoping to pursue her schooling at a quality 6th form college, she had the ambition and passion to continue with dance. Back home I tried to find out a bit more about this dance movement and found it growing successfully within the UK after having hopped across the pond from the United States.
With the neighbours letting out the chicken which I am looking after for another neighbour first thing in the morning, a lie in was permitted. Late morning, Mrs T, Ms T and I took the Park and Ride into Cambridge to purchase some last minute items for the Egypt trip. The need was on the one hand for a medium sized suitcase and on the other for bags that could be used as hand luggage, without being too heavy prior to packing.
Protection of my balding head from North African sun and my modesty by the pool was also ensured by a new wide brimmed hat and a pair of swimming/water shorts.
The P&R bus back was quite full, so I found myself sitting next to a young lady who had obviously been hoping to avoid the fate of a stranger sitting next to her. We studiously ignored one another for a while until, unable to resist any longer, I started to engage her in conversation. It gradually emerged that I was sitting next to a member of a contemporary and/or street dance group, Venom, who had come a close second in the youth section of the national XXL Street Dance Championships a couple of weeks ago! Intelligent, with a broad string of qualifications and hoping to pursue her schooling at a quality 6th form college, she had the ambition and passion to continue with dance. Back home I tried to find out a bit more about this dance movement and found it growing successfully within the UK after having hopped across the pond from the United States.
Friday, 19 August 2011
Cycling to Huntingdon and back.
Getting up a bit earlier today, I prepared to cycle to Huntingdon. I wore a loose T-shirt and shorts and, after packing a drink , banana and nectarine, notebook and netbook, decided to leave out a change of clothes from the rucksack for weight reasons. The journey commenced at 8:55.
I managed to maintain a minimum speed of 16 kmh until Swavesey, compensating for the occasional slowing down by other stretches of accelleration. The strategy fell apart beyond Swavesey because the macadamised stretch finished and turned into a dirt track. Also, whilst the guided busway that I was following stayed on a relative level, the cycle path began to undulate. This sapped strength and reduced the rate of progress.
However, I was still fairly confident by the time I reached St Ives after about 90 minutes. I acelerated through the market place and onto the main road out of St Ives towards Houghton where I encountered a Hill. This dramatically reduced my speed as my legs could not deal with extra effort without beginning to develop severe lactic acid muscle ache. The only way to get forward was to use the lowest gear possible.
Once over the peak of the hill it was again easier to cycle into Huntingdon, albeit at a more sedate 12 kph until I reached the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club for the HBN committee meeting and follow on HBN meeting. Fortunately, there was a sufficient supply of Jaffa cakes to do some carbo-loading.
Fortunately, Mr Foster and Ms Ekblom knew of a return route that avoided the hill, by going through Godmanchester and making my way to Houghton Mill and then into St Ives along a path closer to the River. Ms Ekblom, who had also arrived by bicycle, offered to show me the way and did accompany me through to the Church by the river in St Ives. A more frequent cyclist, she set a pace between 18kmh and 20kmh until realising that I was not really able to keep up.
I made it to Swavesey within 90 minutes, effectively exactly half way back home, but then diverted to Over for the Friday Tutorcloud meeting at Mr Beal's premises. The availability of copious supplies of tea and cake was also extremely welcome.
The journey back home was one of decreasing velocity with several stops as the balance of energy in the legs decreased. By the time I reached the Milton Cycle bridge, I had to dismount and walk up it.
I arrived home around 7:20pm, extremely glad that I had made it and also quite pleased that I had finished the 70km round trip (around 45miles) under my own steam.
I did not manage to make the journey in the same time as my trip by public transport last Friday. However, the fact that old ladies, fit young men and women on their bicycles regularly overtook me suggests that with suitable training, I could do so in the future. For the moment, I do not intent to repeat the exercise in the near future!
I managed to maintain a minimum speed of 16 kmh until Swavesey, compensating for the occasional slowing down by other stretches of accelleration. The strategy fell apart beyond Swavesey because the macadamised stretch finished and turned into a dirt track. Also, whilst the guided busway that I was following stayed on a relative level, the cycle path began to undulate. This sapped strength and reduced the rate of progress.
However, I was still fairly confident by the time I reached St Ives after about 90 minutes. I acelerated through the market place and onto the main road out of St Ives towards Houghton where I encountered a Hill. This dramatically reduced my speed as my legs could not deal with extra effort without beginning to develop severe lactic acid muscle ache. The only way to get forward was to use the lowest gear possible.
Once over the peak of the hill it was again easier to cycle into Huntingdon, albeit at a more sedate 12 kph until I reached the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club for the HBN committee meeting and follow on HBN meeting. Fortunately, there was a sufficient supply of Jaffa cakes to do some carbo-loading.
Fortunately, Mr Foster and Ms Ekblom knew of a return route that avoided the hill, by going through Godmanchester and making my way to Houghton Mill and then into St Ives along a path closer to the River. Ms Ekblom, who had also arrived by bicycle, offered to show me the way and did accompany me through to the Church by the river in St Ives. A more frequent cyclist, she set a pace between 18kmh and 20kmh until realising that I was not really able to keep up.
I made it to Swavesey within 90 minutes, effectively exactly half way back home, but then diverted to Over for the Friday Tutorcloud meeting at Mr Beal's premises. The availability of copious supplies of tea and cake was also extremely welcome.
The journey back home was one of decreasing velocity with several stops as the balance of energy in the legs decreased. By the time I reached the Milton Cycle bridge, I had to dismount and walk up it.
I arrived home around 7:20pm, extremely glad that I had made it and also quite pleased that I had finished the 70km round trip (around 45miles) under my own steam.
I did not manage to make the journey in the same time as my trip by public transport last Friday. However, the fact that old ladies, fit young men and women on their bicycles regularly overtook me suggests that with suitable training, I could do so in the future. For the moment, I do not intent to repeat the exercise in the near future!
Thursday, 18 August 2011
Recession Ghost fleets and contemplating a long bike ride
A Skype call to Australia to talk to the author, Mr J, of the document that I was proof reading and to go through the textual recommendations, the decision being up to the author whether to accept or reject them. We also talked about the impact of the global recession and I was directed to a 2009 image of a ghost fleet of ships mothballed around Singapore and the Straits of Malacca. Apparently people living on nearby islands cannot see the horizon anymore due to the number of ships moored there.
This reminded me of the still ocean going ships at anchor in the upstream waters of the river Fal, away from Falmouth harbour. We saw these, again in 2009, when on holiday in Cornwall and taking a boat trip from Truro to St Mawes.
Mr Heker was back from his holiday in Spain and looked suitably bronzed when Skyping me over lunch time. He had had three viable enquiries for work from UK dentists, a positive homecoming result. We talked about the possibility of chasing that bane of any business, the client forgetting or delaying payment as long as possible. I promised to make a phone call on his behalf in this matter.
Mr H had interrrupted a search on Google Earth to try and gauge the distance from Milton to St Ives via the guided busway and from there to the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club. I am severely tempted to try and cycle the stretch tomorrow and to do so in a time equal to or shorter than the 126 minutes taken last Friday when travelling by public transport, including the guided bus itself.
The distance is 22km to St Ives P&R and from there 11km to the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club. To achieve the objective, I would have to cycle at about 16km/h. The one concern is that I would have a headwind of roughly the same speed on the way there, and a lot of the trip is across open country.
I will see how I feel tomorrow morning!
The world unites today in asking President Assad of Syria to step down, after the brutal crackdowns against protests in the country are reported to have resulted in the deaths of 2000 or more civilians. The other worrying news was the stock-market plunging over 4%, the greatest fall for two and a half years.
This reminded me of the still ocean going ships at anchor in the upstream waters of the river Fal, away from Falmouth harbour. We saw these, again in 2009, when on holiday in Cornwall and taking a boat trip from Truro to St Mawes.
Mr Heker was back from his holiday in Spain and looked suitably bronzed when Skyping me over lunch time. He had had three viable enquiries for work from UK dentists, a positive homecoming result. We talked about the possibility of chasing that bane of any business, the client forgetting or delaying payment as long as possible. I promised to make a phone call on his behalf in this matter.
Mr H had interrrupted a search on Google Earth to try and gauge the distance from Milton to St Ives via the guided busway and from there to the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club. I am severely tempted to try and cycle the stretch tomorrow and to do so in a time equal to or shorter than the 126 minutes taken last Friday when travelling by public transport, including the guided bus itself.
The distance is 22km to St Ives P&R and from there 11km to the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club. To achieve the objective, I would have to cycle at about 16km/h. The one concern is that I would have a headwind of roughly the same speed on the way there, and a lot of the trip is across open country.
I will see how I feel tomorrow morning!
The world unites today in asking President Assad of Syria to step down, after the brutal crackdowns against protests in the country are reported to have resulted in the deaths of 2000 or more civilians. The other worrying news was the stock-market plunging over 4%, the greatest fall for two and a half years.
Monday, 15 August 2011
Guided bus article and interview
Sunday had been a leisurely day but towards the end, I looked at the collated information on the timings of my trips with the guided bus to Huntingdon and set about writing an article for the Huntingdonshire Business Network blog. The article was finally completed around 3am, with the title “A businessman's experience and view of using the guided bus to travel to Huntingdon”, posted and provisionally distributed via twitter, and therefore facebook and linkedin.
I also placed a short note with a link to the article on the facebook page of the Andie Harper radio show, as the article was a more coherent analysis of the journeys and impressions. Arising shortly after 9am today, Monday, the consequence was a call from the radio station asking if I were willing to comment in an interview with Mr Harper of my experience. Fortunately, this was not till 10:20, permitting breakfast and feeding the neighbours chicken.
I think this was probably my most animated and passionate interview, primarily because I really did feel that an opportunity had been lost and that Huntingdon itself was not experiencing the real benefit of the guided bus. I later made a recording of the interview clip for my records.
The remainder of the working day was devoted to writing the press release for the visit of the NRW delegation. As usual, the process started slowly as the structure was first put in place. By the end of the day, I had completed the draft of the report on the meeting with the National Trust. The remainder will be completed tomorrow hopefully.
News is still dominated by the aftermath of the riots, with politicians trying to find populist solutions, the new mantras being mending a “broken society” and the “moral collapse”. As one lone expert raised on radio 4, there is a persistent tail of circa 5% of the population who are socially excluded and disconnected from mainstream society – and governments have been battling for years to make positive inroads into bringing help to these. However, the harsh crackdowns in Syria and the trial of Hosni Mubarak and sons in Egypt are emerging as news items again.
I also placed a short note with a link to the article on the facebook page of the Andie Harper radio show, as the article was a more coherent analysis of the journeys and impressions. Arising shortly after 9am today, Monday, the consequence was a call from the radio station asking if I were willing to comment in an interview with Mr Harper of my experience. Fortunately, this was not till 10:20, permitting breakfast and feeding the neighbours chicken.
I think this was probably my most animated and passionate interview, primarily because I really did feel that an opportunity had been lost and that Huntingdon itself was not experiencing the real benefit of the guided bus. I later made a recording of the interview clip for my records.
The remainder of the working day was devoted to writing the press release for the visit of the NRW delegation. As usual, the process started slowly as the structure was first put in place. By the end of the day, I had completed the draft of the report on the meeting with the National Trust. The remainder will be completed tomorrow hopefully.
News is still dominated by the aftermath of the riots, with politicians trying to find populist solutions, the new mantras being mending a “broken society” and the “moral collapse”. As one lone expert raised on radio 4, there is a persistent tail of circa 5% of the population who are socially excluded and disconnected from mainstream society – and governments have been battling for years to make positive inroads into bringing help to these. However, the harsh crackdowns in Syria and the trial of Hosni Mubarak and sons in Egypt are emerging as news items again.
Friday, 12 August 2011
Testing out the guided bus
The challenge today was to travel to Huntingdon using the new guided busway that had been in operation since last Sunday.
I set of at about 09:50 to the Waggon & Horses Milton bus stop to catch the 10:01 No. 9 bus. It arrived 10 minutes late, though I had allowed for delays. Dropped off at the Milton Road bus stop opposite the Science Park, by Taylor Vinters. This meant a walk to the guided busway stop, five minuts away on foot. I saw one bus round the corner and disappear into the distance before I could reach the stop.
My bus arrived 6 minutes late but was soon racing along the track towards St Ives, travelling past lakes and rivers until arriving remarkably quickly at the St Ives Park and Ride. Here I had to wait for ten minutes or so for another guided bus that was travelling through to Huntingdon. Arriving at 11.21 it was a double decker, packed full with mainly elderly passengers. A whole crowd disembarked at the next stop, St Ives bus station. I used the opportunity to go upstairs for a better view as an equally long queue of passengers boarded.
In comparison to the first stretch, the journey from St Ives to Huntingdon along normal roads was painfully slow, exacerbated by the fact that the route in St Ives and through Huntingdon were both convoluted. We finally arrived at Huntingdon bus station at around 12:00.
I took a walk to the Huntingdon Indoor bowls club to put up a sign reminding people that this week, HBN was meeting informally in the library. Then it was a walk back to the centre to the library, where I arrived at 12:40.
In the end, there were six HBNers sitting around a table in the cafe in the library, engaged in conversation. Mr Wishart was amongst them and also asked for feedback on the design I had prepared for his banner.
I had to depart shortly after 14:00h with the aim of catching the 14:15 from Huntingdon to get to Swavesey. This bus was delayed a full 20 minutes, meaning that when I finally arrived at Swavesey guided bus station, at 15:30, I had missed the connecting bus that could have taken me to Over, for my meeting with Mr Beal and my Tutorcloud colleagues. The walk up the gentle hill and down into Over to Mr Beals office took 25 minutes.
By five, rain had arrived and so I gratefully accepted a lift from Mrs Farndale back to the Swavesey guided busway stop, aiming to catch the 17:43 bus back towards Cambridge. Buses were running in closely spaced groups of three in either direction at this time of the evening. Again, my bus was about 6 minutes late but speedily transported me to the Science Park bus stop. What I did miss were announcements of the next bus stop coming up as it was otherwise so easy to miss one's destination.
I walked to the conventional bus stop around the corner – which lacked a timetable so I was not sure when the next bus would come. Fortunately, the Park and Ride buses to Milton were still running and one arrived within 10 minutes. From the P&R it was then again a 10 minute walk to finally arrive home, about 75 minutes after setting off from Over.
It was an interesting day, where I spent at least four hours travelling plus another hour or so walking. My pedometer indicated an accumulation of 10,000 steps over the course of the day.
I set of at about 09:50 to the Waggon & Horses Milton bus stop to catch the 10:01 No. 9 bus. It arrived 10 minutes late, though I had allowed for delays. Dropped off at the Milton Road bus stop opposite the Science Park, by Taylor Vinters. This meant a walk to the guided busway stop, five minuts away on foot. I saw one bus round the corner and disappear into the distance before I could reach the stop.
My bus arrived 6 minutes late but was soon racing along the track towards St Ives, travelling past lakes and rivers until arriving remarkably quickly at the St Ives Park and Ride. Here I had to wait for ten minutes or so for another guided bus that was travelling through to Huntingdon. Arriving at 11.21 it was a double decker, packed full with mainly elderly passengers. A whole crowd disembarked at the next stop, St Ives bus station. I used the opportunity to go upstairs for a better view as an equally long queue of passengers boarded.
In comparison to the first stretch, the journey from St Ives to Huntingdon along normal roads was painfully slow, exacerbated by the fact that the route in St Ives and through Huntingdon were both convoluted. We finally arrived at Huntingdon bus station at around 12:00.
I took a walk to the Huntingdon Indoor bowls club to put up a sign reminding people that this week, HBN was meeting informally in the library. Then it was a walk back to the centre to the library, where I arrived at 12:40.
In the end, there were six HBNers sitting around a table in the cafe in the library, engaged in conversation. Mr Wishart was amongst them and also asked for feedback on the design I had prepared for his banner.
I had to depart shortly after 14:00h with the aim of catching the 14:15 from Huntingdon to get to Swavesey. This bus was delayed a full 20 minutes, meaning that when I finally arrived at Swavesey guided bus station, at 15:30, I had missed the connecting bus that could have taken me to Over, for my meeting with Mr Beal and my Tutorcloud colleagues. The walk up the gentle hill and down into Over to Mr Beals office took 25 minutes.
By five, rain had arrived and so I gratefully accepted a lift from Mrs Farndale back to the Swavesey guided busway stop, aiming to catch the 17:43 bus back towards Cambridge. Buses were running in closely spaced groups of three in either direction at this time of the evening. Again, my bus was about 6 minutes late but speedily transported me to the Science Park bus stop. What I did miss were announcements of the next bus stop coming up as it was otherwise so easy to miss one's destination.
I walked to the conventional bus stop around the corner – which lacked a timetable so I was not sure when the next bus would come. Fortunately, the Park and Ride buses to Milton were still running and one arrived within 10 minutes. From the P&R it was then again a 10 minute walk to finally arrive home, about 75 minutes after setting off from Over.
It was an interesting day, where I spent at least four hours travelling plus another hour or so walking. My pedometer indicated an accumulation of 10,000 steps over the course of the day.
Sunday, 7 August 2011
Presentation on Presentations
Friday, 5th August: Travelled to Huntingdon for the first Friday of the month seminar of the Huntingdonshire Business Network.
Mr Frost, a familiar face and friend from the Huntingdonshire Speakers, gave a presentation on - Effective presentation. It was a light hearted affair, with humour, audience participation and yet conveyed important points that others could use for their own presentations.
Afterwards, had to travel to Over via St Ives due to a major accident on the A14 which was blocking eastbound traffic.
Arriving late at Mr Beal's offices, found Mrs Farndale and Ms Heenemann already in attendance for our Tutorcloud meeting. We made good progress in finalising articles to be made public on the Tutorcloud website in the near future.
Mr Frost, a familiar face and friend from the Huntingdonshire Speakers, gave a presentation on - Effective presentation. It was a light hearted affair, with humour, audience participation and yet conveyed important points that others could use for their own presentations.
Afterwards, had to travel to Over via St Ives due to a major accident on the A14 which was blocking eastbound traffic.
Arriving late at Mr Beal's offices, found Mrs Farndale and Ms Heenemann already in attendance for our Tutorcloud meeting. We made good progress in finalising articles to be made public on the Tutorcloud website in the near future.
The journey home
Tuesday, 26th July: Time to travel back home. Mr T. is a frugal and financially prudent person who had cannily determined that our journey back would be cheaper if we flew from Bonn airport rather than Duesseldorf, despite requiring an additional train journey with a change in Cologne.
Mrs T therefore drove us to the station at Osterath. This did have the faint air of the deserted station in the film “The Station Agent”, with weeds abounding between the rails. However, a double decker train did stop there and we managed to acquire a seat on the top deck for an enjoyable ride.
We arrived at Cologne with 15 minutes between trains and I realised that this was our last opportunity to enjoy ice cream in Germany. Leaving Mr T with the luggage I set out for a search in the very large Cologne railway station, and to my delight found an excellent ice cream parlour and bought two large cones for us, which we enjoyed with relish.
Bonn airport involved a long walk and a long wait, fairly typical for air travel. We spent the latter in one of the small restaurants having a light lunch and a drink to while away the hours before proceeding through the gate.
We arrived back in Stansted and did not have to wait too long for the Stansted Express back to Cambridge, and thence home.
Mrs T therefore drove us to the station at Osterath. This did have the faint air of the deserted station in the film “The Station Agent”, with weeds abounding between the rails. However, a double decker train did stop there and we managed to acquire a seat on the top deck for an enjoyable ride.
We arrived at Cologne with 15 minutes between trains and I realised that this was our last opportunity to enjoy ice cream in Germany. Leaving Mr T with the luggage I set out for a search in the very large Cologne railway station, and to my delight found an excellent ice cream parlour and bought two large cones for us, which we enjoyed with relish.
Bonn airport involved a long walk and a long wait, fairly typical for air travel. We spent the latter in one of the small restaurants having a light lunch and a drink to while away the hours before proceeding through the gate.
We arrived back in Stansted and did not have to wait too long for the Stansted Express back to Cambridge, and thence home.
Flight to Duesseldorf with optical illusions
Tuesday, 19th July: Packed bags, had a last minute haircut before catching the taxi to railway station. The journey on the Stansted Express was uneventful and I arrived early at the airport. A queue began to form in front of the check in desk, but with a subconscious gap, as if Harry Potter himself was taking space in the queue under his invisibility coat – an illusion maintained until other travelers passed through the gap on their ways to their separate destinations.
Stansted was relatively quiet and security particularly tight. It was a shoes and belt off day, rather precarious as todays trousers were loose around the waistband. Fortunately they did not drop. Post security, it was the usual wait with a cup of tea for the call to gate.
Todays plane looked small on the tarmac, being a turboprop Bombardier DASH 8. However, with a lower flying altitude of about 7600m, it promised to be visually more interesting.
This was justified during the flight across the Channel on a still day. The sea was remarkably calm and with the blue sky, it seemed more like part of the sky. The flees of container ships and faster ferries left white contrails and seemed to be flying rather than floating.
The illusion was shattered when the continental coast came into view and was replaced by another interesting phenomenon. There was a clear algal bloom changing the sea from light blue to cyan. It could only be a thin layer as the ships passing through left a darker trail of original sea colour behind them.
Low continental cloud then obscured the view until we were closer to Duesseldorf.
Arrived at Mrs T's with a fresh supply of English tea bags to see her through the coming months.
Stansted was relatively quiet and security particularly tight. It was a shoes and belt off day, rather precarious as todays trousers were loose around the waistband. Fortunately they did not drop. Post security, it was the usual wait with a cup of tea for the call to gate.
Todays plane looked small on the tarmac, being a turboprop Bombardier DASH 8. However, with a lower flying altitude of about 7600m, it promised to be visually more interesting.
This was justified during the flight across the Channel on a still day. The sea was remarkably calm and with the blue sky, it seemed more like part of the sky. The flees of container ships and faster ferries left white contrails and seemed to be flying rather than floating.
The illusion was shattered when the continental coast came into view and was replaced by another interesting phenomenon. There was a clear algal bloom changing the sea from light blue to cyan. It could only be a thin layer as the ships passing through left a darker trail of original sea colour behind them.
Low continental cloud then obscured the view until we were closer to Duesseldorf.
Arrived at Mrs T's with a fresh supply of English tea bags to see her through the coming months.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
An pleasurable excursion to Kings Lynn
Mrs T, Miss T and I set off by Rail from Waterbeach station to distant Kings Lynn for a days outing. The 39 minute journey was a refreshing change to the drive by car and deposited us at the terminus station just off the Town Centre.
Miss T garnered a guide of walks through Kings Lynn and we set of at a measured pace in the occasional sunshine. The photoalbum with some of the sights that attracted my interest can be found here https://picasaweb.google.com/miltoncontact/ExcursionToKingsLynn# .
In the more modern shopping centre of Broad Street, I learnt how the Fent shop that the ladies dived into to view fabrics and related craft materials derived its name. Fent used to be a term for fabric remnants and was applied to the original market stall that then developed into the current well situated and stocked shop now present on the street.
We wandered into increasingly picturesque parts of the town, with the Pilots Lane and the St Nicholas' Chapel affording some considerable interest. One of the houses (a licenced premises till 1906) was named Pilots Hoy. The term hoy used to apply to a small sloop-rigged coasting ship or a freight barge and perhaps gave the feeling of a land based home from the sea to the busy mariner.
St Nicholas' Chapel is currently being lovingly restored with the help of its friends and the Churches Conservation Trust. Once the country's largest chapel, the south porch was well decorated externally. Inside, the beamed ceiling was adorned with an impressive array of large wooden angels and two other figures, very reminiscent of the All Saints Church at Landbeach. I spent some time photographing the 19th century stained glass windows in detail, with the possibility of a separate article again as for Hereford Cathedral – if I find the time.
We progressed to the Quays, and it was there that I learnt about the strong connection of Kings Lynn with the Hanseatic league, something still recognised by the German Government. Indeed, the Hanseatic league of cities has undergone a revitalisation. The old “Hanse”existed to promote trade between cities and also protect their shipping from piracy though mutual protection. The modern Hanse again has trade and cultural links at its centre.
Purfleet Quay had a derelict looking building that caught my eye, because all the windows had been painted with scenes by local artists. Apparently this was to draw attention to the fact that redevelopment was needed.
The occasional heavy showers were fortunately avoided by lunch and afternoon tea on our circuit of the town. Our last stop was the Red Chapel in the Gardens before we boarded the train back home.
Miss T garnered a guide of walks through Kings Lynn and we set of at a measured pace in the occasional sunshine. The photoalbum with some of the sights that attracted my interest can be found here https://picasaweb.google.com/miltoncontact/ExcursionToKingsLynn# .
In the more modern shopping centre of Broad Street, I learnt how the Fent shop that the ladies dived into to view fabrics and related craft materials derived its name. Fent used to be a term for fabric remnants and was applied to the original market stall that then developed into the current well situated and stocked shop now present on the street.
We wandered into increasingly picturesque parts of the town, with the Pilots Lane and the St Nicholas' Chapel affording some considerable interest. One of the houses (a licenced premises till 1906) was named Pilots Hoy. The term hoy used to apply to a small sloop-rigged coasting ship or a freight barge and perhaps gave the feeling of a land based home from the sea to the busy mariner.
St Nicholas' Chapel is currently being lovingly restored with the help of its friends and the Churches Conservation Trust. Once the country's largest chapel, the south porch was well decorated externally. Inside, the beamed ceiling was adorned with an impressive array of large wooden angels and two other figures, very reminiscent of the All Saints Church at Landbeach. I spent some time photographing the 19th century stained glass windows in detail, with the possibility of a separate article again as for Hereford Cathedral – if I find the time.
We progressed to the Quays, and it was there that I learnt about the strong connection of Kings Lynn with the Hanseatic league, something still recognised by the German Government. Indeed, the Hanseatic league of cities has undergone a revitalisation. The old “Hanse”existed to promote trade between cities and also protect their shipping from piracy though mutual protection. The modern Hanse again has trade and cultural links at its centre.
Purfleet Quay had a derelict looking building that caught my eye, because all the windows had been painted with scenes by local artists. Apparently this was to draw attention to the fact that redevelopment was needed.
The occasional heavy showers were fortunately avoided by lunch and afternoon tea on our circuit of the town. Our last stop was the Red Chapel in the Gardens before we boarded the train back home.
Friday, 17 June 2011
Milton to Cambridge to Huntingdon and back by bus.
My car has developed an interesting knocking noise. Mr Godden, our very competent repair and garage owner, suggested I drop by so that he could listen. He instantly identified a defective venting flap motor and suggested, that due to the fact that this was deeply hidden in the depths of the car behind the dashboard, one could decide to live with it to save a larger bill. Fortunately, one solution to quieten the noise was to turn on the recirculation function. However, this is not ideal.
How difficult would it be to go to the Huntingdonshire Business Network meeting by public transport? I set out at just before 10:30 and purchased a Dayrider Plus ticket on the Number 9 bus into Cambridge. I arrived in time to catch the No 55 bus and gain a seat at the top of the doubledecker bus, right at the front. The journey was quite enjoyable, with excellent views due to the elevation. I was even able to keep up the occasional commentary on Facebook on Mr Harpers Radio Show friends page.
With scattered clouds and sunshine, the countryside had greened. St Ives glowed in the sun as the bus crossed the bridge across the flood plain, with cattle chewing the cud next to the picturesque lock on the river.
I was led into a false sense of success, when the bus passed Mr Wishart in Hartford, on foot to the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club to the same meeting. Till the bus route took a sudden diversion through a range of twisting roads in a residential development, returned to the ring road around Huntingdon and proceeded to the other side of town to the bus station. Arriving shortly after midday, I walked for quarter of an hour to reach my destination, to find Mr Wishart already in conversation with Mr Williamson.
The meeting progressed well. Mr Foster kindly gave Mr Wishart and myself a lift to the edge of the town centre and we made our way along the High Street. Parting halfway along, I entered a branch of my bank to resolve the early repayment of yesterdays credit card expenditure. Fortunately, this was achieved relatively painlessly.
On the way back to the bus station, I purchased some cream cake and a drink carton, with a view to enjoying the scenery on the way back. Most notable in Huntingdon, on the convoluted route out of the town, was Buttsgrove Way. Here, there were scattered what looked like wooden huts or bungalows. Many obviously boarded up with forlorn TV ariels still here and there, yet a selection were obviously still inhabited. See the Google map reference link here. Was this the last remnants of post world war II prefab accommodation? Surely a heritage feature worth preserving.
From door to door, the return journey took about two hours, similar to the outward trip. The cost was approximately a third of that of using a car and had the advantages of no driving stress and event the possibility of WiFi and working on board the longer bus drive. It would have taken a similar two hours to hire a car and drive, then return it, though as double the cost of driving oneself.
Back home, a delightful message from Mrs Green greeted me on the answerphone – that an introduction to Ms Fryer, met last week at Mrs Hawkins' TiG event, had rsulted in a very favourable and mutually beneficial outcome for the two ladies.
How difficult would it be to go to the Huntingdonshire Business Network meeting by public transport? I set out at just before 10:30 and purchased a Dayrider Plus ticket on the Number 9 bus into Cambridge. I arrived in time to catch the No 55 bus and gain a seat at the top of the doubledecker bus, right at the front. The journey was quite enjoyable, with excellent views due to the elevation. I was even able to keep up the occasional commentary on Facebook on Mr Harpers Radio Show friends page.
With scattered clouds and sunshine, the countryside had greened. St Ives glowed in the sun as the bus crossed the bridge across the flood plain, with cattle chewing the cud next to the picturesque lock on the river.
I was led into a false sense of success, when the bus passed Mr Wishart in Hartford, on foot to the Huntingdon Indoor Bowls Club to the same meeting. Till the bus route took a sudden diversion through a range of twisting roads in a residential development, returned to the ring road around Huntingdon and proceeded to the other side of town to the bus station. Arriving shortly after midday, I walked for quarter of an hour to reach my destination, to find Mr Wishart already in conversation with Mr Williamson.
The meeting progressed well. Mr Foster kindly gave Mr Wishart and myself a lift to the edge of the town centre and we made our way along the High Street. Parting halfway along, I entered a branch of my bank to resolve the early repayment of yesterdays credit card expenditure. Fortunately, this was achieved relatively painlessly.
On the way back to the bus station, I purchased some cream cake and a drink carton, with a view to enjoying the scenery on the way back. Most notable in Huntingdon, on the convoluted route out of the town, was Buttsgrove Way. Here, there were scattered what looked like wooden huts or bungalows. Many obviously boarded up with forlorn TV ariels still here and there, yet a selection were obviously still inhabited. See the Google map reference link here. Was this the last remnants of post world war II prefab accommodation? Surely a heritage feature worth preserving.
From door to door, the return journey took about two hours, similar to the outward trip. The cost was approximately a third of that of using a car and had the advantages of no driving stress and event the possibility of WiFi and working on board the longer bus drive. It would have taken a similar two hours to hire a car and drive, then return it, though as double the cost of driving oneself.
Back home, a delightful message from Mrs Green greeted me on the answerphone – that an introduction to Ms Fryer, met last week at Mrs Hawkins' TiG event, had rsulted in a very favourable and mutually beneficial outcome for the two ladies.
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