God's Plans

Long time no write; hope to return here more often. We returned last month from a wonderful holiday in Florida with my family, where we were caught up in the first of what may turn out to be a number of grounded flights due to volcanic ash activity.  In our case, the trip back home was postponed a week, and ended up being a fantastic way to extend the holiday with relatively little consequence.  Nevertheless, the idea that something or someone had intervened to prevent us from completing our holiday and return back to where we were expected to be, was disconcerting to say the least.  And for others there were more than inconveniences from their flight delays.  Yet sometimes, and one of the things I've learned in these last few years since moving over here is that life's routine and your own daily expectations get upset - so you have to work with what you've got and make it the best situation you can.  You give up your job, home, leave friends and family - and you sort it all out.  It's like what John Lennon said, 'life is what happens when you're busy making plans'; you get stopped dead in your tracks - and adjust your course.  So go and make your summer travel plans.. and enjoy!

Early Doors

Some friends at work recommended to me, as I was looking to broaden my repertoire of British television viewing, a sit-com called Early Doors. The show was first aired in 2003 to 2004 but I believe can still be found on the telly as re-runs, though I'd never come across it. Recently, I saw a DVD of the first season at the library, remembered about the recommendation, and snatched it up. Initially I found the show frustratingly difficult to understand; the heavy Northern accents were too much for me to decipher. But then I discovered the sub-titles feature for the hearing impaired and it worked a charm!

I suppose you could compare it to the US show "Cheers" in that the show takes place in a pub and it explores all the characters of the pub, the owners and regulars. And like in Cheers, where the characters live has a lot to do with who they are. For Cheers, where they live is Boston; for Early Doors, it's an unnamed town in Northern England, though I'd heard Wythenshawe mentioned (which is in Manchester). Anyway, I write about this here because I found myself, by the time I'd viewed all six episodes, feeling a kind of affinity with the characters on the show and in turn with the real-life people who'd recommended the show to me, who I'm certain also found an affinity with those characters. Hmm, might it be that I am beginning to feel a sense of belonging here in the North of England, and Wigan in particular? Too bad I can't understand the language...

14 Days, 14 Days Rain

My friend MC warned me about the weather in the UK. Downright depressing, she said or something to that effect. Funny thing is (and I don't mean funny ha ha) she was talking about the weather in London, where she lived for 10 years. The weather in the North of England, well that's a different story. People talk about the effect of the Pennine mountains and prevailing winds, but really all I know is that it's been cold and rainy here for the last two weeks and in the South East, relatively warm and sunny. However, there are some people who have taken this experience and made it work for them. Pierre Adolphe Valette was a French painter who settled here in Manchester at the turn of the last century and, inspired by the ambient atmosphere, created some of his most well known paintings. Surely, I can turn my grousing about the weather into something inspirational?

Twice Nice

Well it's been almost a month since we're back from my blockbuster birthday holiday. Andrew planned this trip for months and unraveled it before me day by day in a kind of rolling surprise celebration. We started in Bath, England with some delightful pampering at the Thermae Bath Spa. On a pit stop (another surprise) we went to the Paragon Gallery in Exeter where, for my birthday present, I picked out a gorgeous print for our home. Next to Padstow where we indulged in all things Rick Stein, seafood celebrity chef (love him!). His presence there is so apparent, the town is also affectionately known as Padstein. We did loads while we were there, which was enough in itself. Little did I know however, that there was more, much more, to come. When we returned home for an overnight before heading out on the road again (somewhere in the North; Scotland perhaps?), Andrew announced we were instead going to New York City! Incredulous, I demanded to see the plane tickets... which were of course just email printouts (doesn't it lose something?), but there it was, proof of us travelling from Manchester to JFK the very next day. Not enough? We arrived in New York Friday afternoon, and on Saturday night, when we went to meet my parents for dinner, I came face to face with over 70 of my favorite people, family and friends, all gathered together (by Andrew) to celebrate my 50 years in this wonderful world.

Afterwards, we got to do some fantastic sightseeing, including a visit to Fire Island, the new High Line and a rip roaring dinner at Sammy's Roumanian! Here are some photo highlights of our trip...

Writing White Coppice

Yesterday I attended a writing workshop sponsored by the folks from Rainy City Stories at one of the local libraries in Wigan. It was a poetry writing workshop where the focus of our writing was to be about 'place' and its meaning for us. I hadn't thought about it in that way, but really 'place' has played an unusually important part in my life lately, my being an emigre and all. Anyway, our first task was to write a triolet (sounds like "Frito Lay"), a poem with certain repeating lines. I chose to write about White Coppice, a place I wrote about on this blog in a very early post. Here is my triolet (my ode to White Coppice) and a couple more pictures from a visit there.

Because it gave me my first vista of England's North West
I love White Coppice
Each time you visit, it feels like a new discovery
Because it gave me my first vista of England's North West
Like stumbling onto Niagara Falls for the first time
with a cricket field stuck in time, stuck in my head
Because it gave me my first vista of England's North West
I love White Coppice

Dissimilate

It occurred to me recently, as I listened to my "Harvard Business Review" podcast, that I clearly have not embraced the ways and means of my host country. I religiously watch Sky+ TV tapings of the "Daily Show with John Stewart", devour my weekly international edition (I use this term loosely) of Time magazine, and have lately been spending an inordinate amount of time listening to the Allman Brothers. I beg Andrew to take me to Costco's so I can stock up on the American products I long for, like Skippy peanut butter and Chicken of the Sea solid white tuna (though I note that I've had to compromise on the brands, since the ones I prefer are not available even at Costco, but close enough). It seems I am the embodiment of the stereotypical immigrant: the snivelling, obdurate emigre who comes to live and work in a new land yet refuses to assimilate. I can only now fully appreciate why adults who move abroad cling to the features, sounds and images of their home country; I suppose it's only natural. I realize we are most happy with and comforted by the things on which we were raised and are most familiar, and if I had been born here I would crave and seek that which I currently find not so much to my taste.

Dissimilar

After our trip last year to Venice, Italy, I made a post on this blog, comparing the Grand Canal in Venice with the Leeds to Liverpool canal in Wigan. This year, we went to beautiful Paros, Greece but I'm hard pressed to compare the climes of Wigan with this sunny island in the Aegean. Five days home..... five days unrelenting rain. Ah, but there is an exception to every rule and we had a glorious day of sunshine in the North West on Sunday. Here are some photos from our trip last week. Also check out our new friends' blog on Paros (friends are new, not their blog!).

Home Strange Home

Although we bought it in November, we didn't actually move into our new house until the end of January. And I mean house: no more flats or apartments; we've got ourselves a lovely four bedroom, mid-terraced Victorian home. We had wanted it to be 'ready' before moving in, but soon realized that making a home, especially with a 100-odd year old house, is a work in progress, probably up until you eventually move out again. I do love the place, but it feels a bit like we're living in someone else's house. Musty odors and creaky noises challenge my senses and test our skills to either eradicate or adapt to them. But I am thrilled to now be a UK homeowner, and for Andrew and me to make our house our own, warts and all.

Happiness New Year

Not sure why I chose to write about a card game on 1 January 2009 (below), so I thought I'd top up my blog with a great big shout out to everyone: Happy New Year! Wishing you love, peace and happiness.

Zen and the Art of Playing Solitaire

Lately, I've developed a nasty little habit of playing solitaire on my ipod, almost incessantly. Of course I understand completely that this simple form of entertainment keeps me from more lofty pursuits such as reading, writing or, say, playing a musical instrument. However, I've discovered some key principles coming out of this practice, the first one being, er, the importance of practice. By playing the game regularly and repeatedly, I've learned a great deal about how to improve my game. Not from reading about it, or because someone showed me, just from practicing. Something to keep in mind when engaged in doing more essential work. Secondly, I've learned not to regret anything. In the game's programme, you have the opportunity to 'restart' the game after losing, and I've found that playing the game again didn't change the outcome. In life, forget 'what if' and stick to what you are doing; don't bother with wanting to start over! Lastly, and perhaps harder to pinpoint the broader application, it is important to differentiate among the suits and colors; by blurring the lines in your mind, you miss the right moves and your progress in the game may be stalled. So look carefully and know where things fit in the world. Play on!

How long does an evening last?

I had a wonderful evening with my work colleagues at our Christmas party this past Friday. We floated in a barge on the Manchester Ship Canal, enjoyed a good meal, good company and a bit of drink and karaoke. It was festive and fun. I suppose I brought that good feeling with me to sleep because that night I dreamed I was with my work colleagues again and we were making honey, just by clapping our hands. In my dream I thought, if we could make honey just by clapping our hands, then indeed anything is possible! What a fantastic, uplifting thing to imagine. I remember having the same feeling on another occasion: I was in the car with my friend Roya, when I saw a bumper sticker on a van which said something to the effect of, "yes, even you can train to become a carpenter". At that moment it occurred to me that, yes, even I could be a carpenter if I so desired; anything is possible!

Change is Good

I was actually in the US during this historic presidential election, in of all places, Florida. Whatever your views, the prospect of having a new president, this new president, is opening our minds and hearts to the possibilities ahead. So many folks around the world have been cheering the US presidential outcome and its potential for positive change, change which can affect so many folks around the world... Let's hope for the best.

Art Schmart

Yesterday, Andrew and I went to Manchester to attend the Buy Art Fair. Can't remember where, but I had seen something about it on the internet, gave them my name and address, and won a couple of tickets for free entry over the weekend. My idea was to buy some art for our new house (oh yeah, we're buying a house! - more about that once we're in). The event was held at Urbis, a space I mentioned in an earlier post. When we got there, Andrew took to it like oil and water (a bit like with me watching sports analysis shows on TV), but we managed to see the whole show, get a nice cuppa and I actually bought a couple of wonderful small ink drawings by Moose Allain. While having our nice cuppa we initiated a discussion about what makes something art and hence valuable (is it the artist's time spent, creating something completely new, or just resting on one's laurels - though not addressing how one got those laurels), deadlocked, and then moved on to more pressing topics like 'what's for dinner?'.

Catching Up

There's some stuff I've been meaning to blog about but just didn't get to it, so I thought I'd tackle it here and now. A few weeks ago, we went to visit friends in Nottingham (hey Terri), and they took us to this really interesting "show" at the Galleries of Justice, about how the local Nottingham court and prison were used from the end of the 18th century up until the 1980s. What made the experience so memorable was the fact that we were lead through the exhibition by actors playing different roles such as the gaoler and an inmate. At one point the woman who played a mentally ill prisoner came out of her character to tell us some more current facts and it was fascinating to see her transformation - she had completely enveloped her character up until that moment. Good stuff.



Next up: A few months ago, Andrew and I went to see a fantastic show at The Octagon Theatre in Bolton called Once Upon a Time in Wigan - LIVE! The show was a re-make of an earlier production, this time accompanied by a live band. The story was about two couples who frequented the real-life, famous at the time, Wigan Casino, an all-night dance club that featured Northern Soul music. During the 1970s Northern Soul music was all the rage; it was and is essentially Motown or Detroit music from the US made popular and devotionally followed by kids from Northern England. But the trick here is that, for Northern Soul, the more obscure the song or the artist, the better. Wigan Casino was a place for the misfits and misunderstood of the country to come and meet, listen and dance all night to Northern Soul music. Now, there is a not so nostalgic element in that the Wigan Casino was shut down in 1981 because it had become a drug haven, but let's not dwell on that. Oh, the dancing! If you want to get a sense of what Northern Soul dance was like, and it's fantastic, check out the moves on the music video Mercy by Duffy.

Not taking sides or anything...

Nothing beats my beloved Leeds to Liverpool Canal, but this grand canal might come in as a close second.

What's Your Favorite Place?

I am drawn to Venice, Italy and have spent my most treasured times there with some of my most treasured people; last week I returned, this time with Andrew (my top treasure), for a long weekend. We discussed what makes it so special and romantic when, at first blush, it does look a bit neglected and unkempt. Well, countless people have written about this place, I'm sure quite eloquently; to me Venice is a delicate beauty, who transcends time and fashion, and remains just as you remember her.

Herban Gardening

I had a lovely birthday on Monday and spent some time at Urbis, an exhibition centre and multi-purpose space in Manchester. Although I wasn't particularly bothered to see it, I went to their Urban Gardening exhibition and found myself surprisingly turned on over the concept of integrating urban life and nature; incorporating nature into urban life. Interestingly, there were two subjects in the exhibition that also happened to be featured in two of my 'friend-ly blogs' (see right hand column). There was a feature on peregrine falcons in Manchester in both the Urban Gardening show and Mancubist blog; in my brother's blog, Cincy to Seattle, he writes about getting more connected to nature and acknowledging what it provides for us (fuel, food), which is also explored in the exhibition. Check it all out for yourself if you're interested (I'm just planting the seed).

Other Places

What a glorious day this past Sunday was, and our plan for the day matched perfectly the weather to the location. We first headed out to Formby, a town and beach near Liverpool. Now, the downside is, because it's a long walk to finally reach the sea from the shore and once you do, it's a long way until you can submerge into the water, so no one really goes to the sea to swim. The upside is there are no crowds, blankets, beach umbrellas, blaring music and the like as you'd find at let's say Jones Beach. Just an amazing unspoiled coastline with craggy dunes, pine forests and folks strolling along the rippled shoreline (see National Trust photo below) or fishing by the start of the sea.

We then headed over to Crosby beach to see the artist Antony Gormley's installation called Another Place : 100 castings of the artist's body made of cast-iron, scattered about and anchored into the shore line. As I stood by one of the statues, I became contemplative, considering the intermix of man, art and nature. Not a bad day at all.

Only South of 14th Street

We just got back from a trip to NYC to celebrate my dad's 80th birthday. Big up to my family and friends - it was fantastic to see you all and I love you! Here are a few photos I took whilst doing the tourist thing (double-click on each one to getter better view).

uplifting words and hand me downs on Second Ave

shop in the Village with trainers for $1000

where am i, on the moon? no, somewhere in Soho

Feel like dancing on Lafayette Street

Quit Whinging America!

Lately, the international versions of US news publications have been all about the rising cost of gasoline, which has reached a whopping $4 a gallon! But wait a minute, let's do the math: the average cost of petrol (gas) in the UK is 1.17 pounds per litre. There are about 4.5 litres to the gallon; approximately 2 dollars to the pound. That works out to be around $10 per gallon, more than double what Americans pay! Not to mention a UK sales tax rate of 17% and an income tax that borders 50%. If America really wants to curb immigration, reduce homelessness and ensure everyone has access to decent health care, why not try a little taxes. If we can handle it here, you can too.