Thoughts and Observations

I bought a property for the first time in a very long time. Having rented in Bishops Waltham for two years, I decided that this was where I wanted to put down some roots. 

This article is not a rant about estate agents or solicitors, all of whom have been most helpful, but in an age where spending money is as easy as a click on a computer and delivery is as easy as opening the front door. Buying somewhere to live is more complex, confusing and frightening.

 The last time I felt this helpless, I was nine years old and given a brown paper carrier bag by my mother and told to go and buy sausages at the butcher. 

I walked miles to get to the butcher, then had to wait for ages in a queue. Finally, when it was my turn, all I could remember was that my mother said six, so the butcher sold me six pounds of sausages. What my mother eventually did to the butcher and I is not for these pages, but it was loud, painful, and frightening for us. I had no idea what I was doing then, and I had no idea what I was doing when buying somewhere to live. 

First, finding a home and realising that every place I thought would be perfect was always just out of my price bracket; the tension between need and want was genuine. 

Eventually, I found somewhere and made an offer which went back and forth until it was agreed, and then nothing! There was nothing for me to do but wait anxiously for months while all sorts of things were going on, but goodness knows what they were. I had to read documentation, but here my brain was only registering the start and the end while the mass in the middle it decided was irrelevant, so I ignored it. 

The feeling of not being able to be part of the process was disturbing. When making a large purchase, you can read reviews, ask around and try it out before you part with money; even then, you can take it back and have a refund. Unfortunately, buying a home does not work like that. 

My story may be somewhat simplistic, showing ignorance of sausages or a flat, but my purchases eventually worked out. Still, over the past year, I have heard so many stories of frustration and heartache from other buyers that it made me realise how lucky I have been. 

For example, a couple I know were just about to exchange contracts when to vendor rang them asking for an increase in the purchase price. What made this worse was that they had already exchanged contracts about their place. It sounded little more than blackmail. They refused to bite and told the vendor they would not offer more, fearing they would be homeless. A courageous decision to take, as it turned out very lucky as a new purchase fell into place very quickly and they have been happily in that house for the last 30 years and raised a family.

Others I have heard about have yet to be so lucky; only recently, a couple tried to sell their flat three times, and each has been a failure. So frustrating and upsetting.

So, during my wanderings around the pond, my companions and I have decided that whether we are a seller or a buyer, be it something worth a few pounds or many thousands of pounds, we must not be like that nine-year-old. We must know what we are doing, be fair and compassionate, and understand what we are doing.

 

“Fancy getting baptised at your age!”; that wasn’t said as a question, it was said more as a statement. “Yes, I did fancy, and at the age of 73, with the help of others I was baptised,” I said emphatically. “But why?” came the response. “Because it was the right thing to do!” was my truthful answer and there the conversation ended, but it made me pause for reflection.

Two years ago, I moved from Oxford to Bishops Waltham. It was not the best of times, and I did not know Bishops Waltham, but my son and his family had recently moved here. So, it seemed a safe place to come.

I found a flat and soon met my neighbours who have both been towers of strength, especially when I needed it – thank you.

I must admit that I was not in the best of spirits, with too many life changes in too short a period, but I wanted to make my move a success. So, what do you do, when you have much on your mind and especially when you are near the sea?

Paddle of course! I drove down to Southsea, took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my trousers and stepped into the Solent. Possibly, I think, looking like one of those marvellous characters from a Donald McGill seaside postcard.

I am fascinated by the sea and although we divide it up into oceans, seas, gulfs etc the water I was standing in could have been, in some past time, anywhere across the globe, let alone have once been rain or a river. Given time to think, the big issues crowd in – global warming, and dropping sea levels and they bring with them a danger of feeling quite helpless. I felt the need to do something, so remembering my bygone school lessons on displacement, I bent down and removed a reasonable-sized pebble from the sea floor and put it in my pocket. Well, it will have made a difference, not much – but every little counts! Perhaps you will remember that next time you are standing on a beach.

A few weeks later I was walking across the North Pond bridge when I noticed that the pond was not as full as it had been. Not dry like this year, but the water level was lower than it had been. What could I do to help? I had the answer in my pocket. So, leaning against the balustrade I took out the pebble that I had collected and making sure that there were no ducks around dropped it gently into the pond.

As it entered the water it made a most satisfying sound and it disappeared. All that was left was an ever-growing ring of ripples, leading out from the centre. I thought as I looked at those ever-widening circles: there was me at the centre of my universe and surrounded by my family, friends and perhaps those furthest ripples were friends to come.

Then, suddenly, something hit me and rooted me to the spot. At that moment a sadness struck me with almost a physical force. I had been entrenched by my arrogance and self-absorbed conceit. How could I think in such a way? I stood there, leaning on the railing looking down at the water feeling desperate when a tufted duck swam from under the bridge with its feather headdress and white stripe. It looked up at me and said “don’t cry”.

Was this God talking to me? Then, I saw the pebble as the Holy Trinity and ripples rising from its centre as God’s Grace spreading out over the world. 

So, I started to come to this church – quietly at first when no one was there. I would sit and think and pray and absorb the quietness, solitude and spirit of this place. 

My quiet attendance continued for quite some time, in fact until last year’s Remembrance Service – that was the first service I attended and the people I met here bought the church to life. Since that time the Church family, through their kindness and understanding, have been, together with my faith, instrumental in my decision to be baptised.

So, I really can say that my journey to baptism began with a stone’s throw from St. Peters.

Can we come to a Resolution?

February may seem a little too late to talk about New Year Resolutions, but if you have broken yours already, read on since we are kindred spirits. If you have kept your New Year Resolutions please read on and feel virtuous. Benjamin Disraeli’s eponymous hero Vivian Grey comments, after a particularly difficult time, “The genealogy of Experience is brief; for Experience is the child of Thought, and Thought is the child of Action.” This is a wonderful way of describing a New Year's Resolution i.e., you think of something that needs to change and then act on it. This is all well and good, I thought, as I walked with a couple of friends across the wooden bridge over the North Pond. For me, unfortunately, New Year Resolutions represent the pinnacle of failure!  I have always made them. My parents started this habit and embedded it into my upbringing. Suggestions came thick and fast: keep your bedroom tidy; don’t annoy your brother; sit down and write thank you letters for all the beautiful presents you have received. At the age of six, I had an aunt who would send me socks each year and at that age, socks lacked the necessary level of excitement to make me want to write a thank you letter, however badly written under duress. Thus, from a young age, while I sat in a messy bedroom, clashing with my brother who was breaking all my pencils, I learned just what it was like to feel like a failure when it came to Resolutions. As I grew older, I began to develop resolutions which may have less chance of failure. One year, quite disastrously my resolution was to buy favour! Rather than use my dinner money, to buy a school dinner, I would buy sweets for the tuck shop so that I could bribe Susan Clark to do my Latin prep and James Golightly not to tell the PE teacher that my refusal to climb a rope was more to do with my lack of coordination, than my fear of heights. The failure was spectacular, Susan although a wonderful young woman, ate the sweets, but could not be bribed and the PE teacher was far more intelligent than he looked. Catastrophe on both counts.  Later, I became determined to produce failproof resolutions. The easiest ones such: as eating every day; or being careful when crossing the road really fail in their own way. The OED defines good resolutions as “intentions that one formulates mentally for virtuous conduct”, thus I botched failproof resolutions. Eventually, I gave up and my final resolution was to never again make a New Year’s Resolution. It worked because that year I gave up smoking, which would never have happened if it had been a New Year’s Resolution. As we walked, I asked my friends whether they had made any resolutions this year. Both looked at me with scorn and said New Year Resolutions were a waste of time. I immediately felt a close bond and I congratulated them for their wisdom, and with that, we went to the pub. If I were to make a New Year resolution this year, it would be not to embellish the truth. I fear, as usual, I would have failed, but a Happy New Year to everyone and may each of us find new and pleasing opportunities this and every year.

This year I want to keep a record of the plants that I see and identify on my walks around the local area. Give me time and I will gradually add photos.

Most of my walks involve the path of old Bishops Waltham to Botley railway.

The first part of the walk, described in this link is the first half of my circular walk,

https://www.greatbritishlife.co.uk/things-to-do/walks/hampshire-walk-around-bishop-s-waltham-7222656

I have walked the whole of this walk (27th May 2022) and although I took one wrong turn the whole thing measured 10.27 km or 6.38 miles. My wrong turn shows as a spike top right as I had to retrace my steps.

There is even a bit of a Roman Road at Wintershill.

The start of the walk along the old railway track.

23rd April 2022

Railway walk

Ragged Robin Lychnis flos-cuculi L.

Family: CARYOPHYLLACEAE (Campion family)

In the border area before level crossing gates

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Bugle Ajuga reptans L.

Family: LAMIACEAE (Dead-Nettle family)

In the border area before level crossing gates

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Lords and Ladies Cuckoo-pint Arum maculatum L.

Family: ARACEAE (Arum family)

Patch in the first quarter of the railway track

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Germander Speedwell Veronica chamaedrys L.

Family: SCROPHULARIACEAE (Figwort family)

The middle part of railway track, also by field with horses.

Characteristics – two lines of long white hairs on the stem

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Lesser celandine Ficaria verna Huds, Ranunculus ficaria L.

Family: RANUNCULACEAE (Buttercup family)

The middle part of railway track.

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Common Dog-violet Viola riviniana Rchb.

Family: VIOLACEAE (Violet family)

Last third of the railway track

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25th April 2022

Railway walk

Cow Parsley Anthriscus sylvestris (L.) Hoffm.

Family: APIACEAE (Carrot (Umbellifer) family{

By Football pitches

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Daisy Bellis perennis L.

Family: ASTERACEAE (Daisy family)

By Football pitches

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Creeping buttercup Ranunculus repens L.

Family: RANUNCULACEAE (Buttercup family)

Woodland area after football pitches.

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Ground-ivy Glechoma hederacea L.

Family: LAMIACEAE (Dead-Nettle family)

Woodland area after football pitches.

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Garlic mustard Alliaria petiolate (M.Bieb.)Cav.

FAMILY: BRASSICACEAE (Cabbage (Crucifer) family)

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Herb-Robert Geranium robertianum L.

Family: GERANIACEAE (Geranium family)

Last third of the railway track.

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5th May 2022

Railway walk

Greater Stitchwort Stellaria holostea L.

Family: CARYOPHYLLACEAE (Campion family)

Opposite football pitches

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Bird Cherry Prunus padus L.

Family: ROSACEAE

Tree by children's playground

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Silver Plantain Plantar argentea Chaix

Family: PLANTAGINACEAE

Steps by football club building.

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7th May 2022

Railway walk

Charity, Jacob’s Ladder

Polonium caeruleum L.

Family: POLEMONIACEAE

Cultivated patch before the level closing gates

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Common Groundsel Senecio vulgaris L

Family: ASTERACEAE

Near football club

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Common Hogweed Heracleum sphondylium L.

Family: APIACEAE

The path leading to the fruit tree grove just passed Priory Park.

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9th May 2022

Railway walk

Wild Garlic Allium ursinum L.

Family: AMARYLLIDACEAE

Right-hand side end of track furthest from the level crossing gates.

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22nd May 2022

Hedgerow Crane’s-bill Geranium pyrenaicum Burn.f.

FAMILY: GERANIACEAE

North pond by lay-by

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22nd May 2022

Railway walk

Common Vetch Vicia segetalis Thuill.

FAMILY FABACEAE

The bank opposite football fields near club-house

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Lesser Trefoil Trifoilium dubious Sibth

FAMILY FABACEAE

The bank opposite football fields near club-house

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Common Comfrey Symphytum asperum Lepech

FAMILY: BORAGINACEAE

Near the base of the power pylon

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Ox-Eye Daisy Leucanthemum vulgate Lam.

FAMILY: ASTERACEAE

Verge by the field with horses nearest the railway track

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Wood Avens, Blessed Herb Geum urban L.

FAMILY: ROSACEAE

Railway track furthest from level-crossing gates

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French Crane’s-bill Geranium endressii J.Gay.

FAMILY: GERANIACEAE

The cultivated area before the level-crossing gates.

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26th May 2022

Nipplewort Lapsana communis L.

FAMILY: ASTERACEAE

By North pond near the lay-by.

27th May 2022

Pink sorrel Oxalis articulate Savigny

FAMILY: OXALIDACEAE

End of Stakes lane before gate to field.





Scentless Mayweed/Scentlesss Chamomile Tripleurospermun inodorumSchultz Bip.

FAMILY: ASTERACEAE

Field edge near Roke Farm





7th July 2022

Enchanter’s Nightshade Circaea lutetiana L.

FAMILY: ONAGRACEAE

Halfway approx along east-side of railway track





Wood (red-veined) Dock Rumex sanguineus L.

FAMILY: POLYGONACEAE

Halfway approx along east-side of railway track.





Hedge Woundwort Stachys sylvatica L.

FAMILY: LAMIACEAE

Halfway approx along east-side of railway track.







8th July 2022

Hoary Willowherb Epilobium parviflorum Schreb.

FAMILY: ONAGRACEAE

East side of railway track near end.





Common Knapweed Centaurea nigra L.

FAMILY: ASTERACEAE

Open files at Priory Park.





Yesterday I went to the funeral of a friend I shared a flat with over 50 years ago. We were very close at the time, but after we left college we both went our separate ways as did our lives. Meeting him again a couple of years ago was a pleasure. Yes, he was older but so are we all, but what shone through was his sense of fun and love of life. After talking to him for just a few moments I could hear and see that young man from a different age.

It was so sad to hear that he had died, the news came by Facebook. In my youth, it would have been by telegram. Such a shock for his family and many friends and since he was three years younger than me seemed very unfair.

I cannot compare my sense of loss and grief to those who were closer or knew him better, but he was the second peer of mine to die within a month. Two people both friends, both called John, are both now dead through means other than this terrible plague COVID. Yes, we all die – such an overused phrase! I know we do and I have been to funerals before, but this does not explain how I feel.

I know sorrow, I know grief; my father died when I was a child. He was there one day and then found dead on the same day. I saw him laying on the settee with a vicar giving the last rites when I came home from a Boy Scout camp! My mother is dead, elderly friends that I had helped by doing their garden or shopping have died, but all these were older than me; this separation gave distance. It did not reduce the sadness, but their deaths did not remind me of my own death. That is what has changed.

The fragile mortality of these later deaths of friends has rebounded onto me and it makes me feel guilty. In the midst of my personal loss of good friends and the terrible loss felt by their families and those close to them, I feel my own mortality and guilt at being so unintentionally selfish. As I walked past John’s coffin I felt like saying “move over, there is room for me as well”.

So, today I went for a long walk, a Mindfulness walk, to ponder the fragility of life like so many before. I have no solutions, no easy words, and no comfort other than a few photographs of rebirth and the promise of Spring leading on from the death of Winter. Does our death lead to a new Spring?

How many times has that question been asked; is there anyone who had not asked it at some time?

Pussy willow (Salix caprea) catkins trying to emerge.

A small (5mm) female flower of Hazel (Corylus avellana), shows such delicate and bright red stigmas.

Male catkins of Hazel hanging proudly.

In the past few weeks, two of my contemporaries have died,

The grief felt by their families is great and I do not want to detract from that, but I must admit that both these deaths have come as rather a shock to me. Both were such nice, good people. they both had wonderful personalities and whoever met them had a smile on their face after a just few minutes,

How do we measure a man’s worth? Without being cynical Facebook seems to be a good tool to use. Indeed, the number of genuine comments, not just knee-jerk reactions, to these deaths is a real measure of how respected and love these people were and I hope, to some extent, they have given a little comfort to their families.

I suppose I am of an age where close friends and colleagues will, unfortunately, die. In the past, I have come across death and mourned the passing of parents and elderly friends; all these deaths have been sad and deeply emotional, but only now have I had to meet the death of people the same age as me. As well as feeling sad for them and their families I feel the guilt of my own vulnerability.

It seems rather strange to call going to Church an adventure, but last week I went to the Remembrance service at St Peter’s Bishops Waltham (https://www.stpetersbw.org.uk) and today I decided to go to the 10.30 less formal service.

I must say that all the people I met were friendly and welcoming, so without a doubt I will be going again.

The first person I met over a cup of coffee was Di Hunt, who I think is part of the pastoral care of the church. Kate Smith (families and youth) tried to sell me a £7.00 ticket to a Water into Wine event on the Friday 3rd December at 7:30 p.m.. I also met the Revd James Hunt who I have seen on Facebook over the lockdown period. He was not conducting this service, instead it was led by David and I am really not sure who David is!

Well I need to reflect on all this.

More to come I think.

I do not want your sympathy and I most definitely do not want your anger, so please just spare a few moments to listen to my story. My tale probably is similar to that of many others. In these difficult times, I feel for those who are ill, or lonely or have had friends or relatives die. Unlike those poor souls, who deserve and need our sympathy, patience, understanding and if possible, a kindly action; my story is like the mayfly here one day and gone the next. All I ask is that you read my story and then ponder a while upon my fate.

It is not that I am lazy, far from it. I may be retired now, but like Chesterton’s Donkey I have had my hour “One far fierce hour and sweet: There was a shout about my ears, And palms before my feet”. No palms beneath my feet, but plenty of shouts as I was a teacher for well over 30 years and in that job just to survive one cannot afford to be lazy. I was not lazy, I was just selective. I should make it clear, right from the start that my partner (who is an avid reader of this illustrious publication), is as near a perfect human as one could hope to meet. So, all blame is on my shoulders, but for years, the perfectly reasonable requests of “can you do this”; “we need that done now”; “you have made a mess everywhere” have, up to now, been easily ignored. These here, there and everywhere statements have been consistently foiled and put to one side with “of course dear when I have time” and a sharp exit in the opposite direction. As I have said, I am not lazy, just selective and just as physical exercise is important for health so is emotional exercise. I like to think that I am encouraging my partner to exercise her patience.

We are now both, like many millions of people, confined to the same four walls. My sublime partner has risen to the challenge, but worryingly this challenge has caused her to change and not for the better! She has now total recall of every request, suggestion or idea made over many years that would have required me to do something. How times have changed as she keeps reminding me, we now have all the time we need, to get all those little jobs done. I can no longer delay, prevaricate, hedge, fence, shilly-shally, shuffle, or dodge the question. I cannot even walk off in the other direction without walking into a wall. I cannot say “yes dear when I have thought up a good excuse for not doing what you want, I will get around to thinking about when I will do it”. I have a strong sense of survival and she must not be toyed with, the list is long, so I see dark days lie ahead. The garden will get done my dear, the spare room will be painted my precious, the car will be washed light of my life. I grasp the list to my chest and think of A. E. Housman’s wonderfully prophetic poem “How Clear. How Lovely Bright” in which the second verse begins with the promise “to-day I shall be strong, No more shall yield to wrong, Shall squander life no more;”, but ends like all my days with “Falls the remorseful day”.

There is a character in Orpheus Descending a play by Tennessee Williams who says, “We are all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins, for life”. I know that there will be readers of this article who are not only confined inside their own skins but are solitary in their own house. If you know of anyone like that, please call, message, facetime, Skype or Zoom even if it is just to say hello. I am sure I am not alone in my belief that they would welcome the excuse to stop what they are doing and defer it to a later date, and I am sure that you would welcome the same opportunity as well.

Yours anon,

A. Mouse

An early start at 5:30. Managed to get up after a night of not much sleep. Neil and Ian had been to watch Supergrass and Neil had trouble getting back to Bishop’s Waltham. Indeed, he did not get back until gone 3:00 am.

Made breakfast and had a shower, then last minutes packing and checking.

Luckily and very pleasantly Pam had offered to take us to the station, which she did. So, we were in plenty of time to catch our 7:39 train to Birmingham International so that we could check into the airport. We arrived at about 8:30 and were happily surprised to find a shuttle service to the airport. As soon as we got off the shuttle there was Jet2.com check-in. Very few people were around, so we were checked in by 9:00. Off to departures and I made a mess of the security procedure. I was fin, I had remembered to remove my belt and anything metal. Unfortunately, I was not so thorough with my hand luggage and it had to be checked and rechecked a few times as I had not removed small bottles of hand gel and hand cream. Thus, a lesson learnt for the future.

So far, everything had gone really well, only a three-hour wait for our plane. Well, that was until we heard that our flight had been delayed, because of a French air controllers strike. So, we ended up waiting for about four hours.

There flight itself was fine, a little crowded and not much legroom and full of Jet2 holidaymakers, but the staff were friendly and very helpful and pleasant. Jet 2 was a short-haul service has much to recommend it. Arrived at Lanzarote airport and went to get our shuttle. No luck there! We just had to get a taxi.

We arrived about 6:45 and registration was fast and a kindly porter took our cases and showed us where we would be staying. We have a family apartment confusion of a lounge with a small kitchen area, a bathroom with two showers and a bath and a bedroom. All very clean and comfortable.

We were in plenty of time for dinner and I probably, in spite of all good intentions are far too much. There was a great selection of good and very good German wheat beer. I had two, so in the end, felt very full and rather squiffy!!!! Of to bed!