Sometimes I’m so glad that my camera is always in my pocket. This was taken at the Cite des Sciences et de l’Industrie in Paris.
It’s just crying out for a caption isn’t it?
Any suggestions?
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Sometimes I’m so glad that my camera is always in my pocket. This was taken at the Cite des Sciences et de l’Industrie in Paris. It’s just crying out for a caption isn’t it? Any suggestions? Hello! Remember me? I’ve been exceedingly busy doing a great many things, some interesting, some not (such is life), so here’s a quick update: I have been to Paris, which went something like this: count children onto a bus, set off, travel a bit, count children, arrive at science museum, count children, have a brilliant time, go on a boat, count children, go up the Eiffel Tower, count children, be very relieved to end up with the same number that I started with. First time I’ve led a school trip abroad. Been on many, but my first time in charge. It was good though – can I do another one? I have left my job. Sort of. By which I mean there was a last of day of term when I said goodbye to lots of people, although I was most insistent that I would not be making speeches etc – we went to the pub after school and chatted instead, much nicer. The following week I went back to school (what holidays?) and said hello to many of the people who had bid me farewell just days earlier. I realised a long time ago that I wouldn’t be ready to ‘leave’ at the end of term: there were still displays to put up, classrooms to empty and rather a lot of things to deal with. I’ve still got a few bits and pieces to do, but the real end is nigh, my self imposed ‘final’ day is on results day next week. I have embarked on a spot of mad decorating/DIY, as is traditional during the summer holidays. 100+ years of paint has now been removed from banisters (they’re actually starting to look quite nice), the landing floor has been sanded and it’s looking as if I might even finish before I run out of holiday. Woohoo! Whilst I attack the landing and stairs, Mr TLC has been industriously working his way down the long list of things that need painting outdoors. We meet up for tea/coffee breaks and I admire his painting. He doesn’t seem to be admiring my wondrous woodworking skills though, maybe I need to drop some bigger hints. I have read books, watched films and enjoyed evenings chilling out with Mr TLC. I feel strangely guilty about spending an evening reading a book or watching something on TV, which is ridiculous really, I am on holiday – I’m supposed to be doing that kind of stuff. And we seen to have found a new local: the Nottingham House (or Nommingham House as we prefer to call it) ticks all the boxes: decent beer, nice food (but more of that later) and a not-half-bad music/entertainment quiz. We decided to give the aforementioned quiz a go, resurrected the Three-Legged Cat quiz team moniker and scored a more than respectable 29 out of 30. Sadly we were not alone in achieving this score, but I can report that we maintained our 100% record in the tie-breaker: yes, we lost it. Ho hum. Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, honestly, who do we think we are, Sheffield Wednesday?
Sadly we were a little late, having been delayed first by a Rose Queen’s parade and then by the need to pull in and wait for a magnificent steam engine as it passed. But that’s fine, we were in search of B-Road Britain – and we found it. Our late arrival meant we didn’t witness much of the World Worm Charming Championships, but we were still in time to be astounded at the bewildering array of devices used to persuade the local worms to appear and be counted: garden forks aplenty, sticks, basketballs, xylophones and even a euphonium. Baking hot sun and a spell of dry weather meant that records were unlikely to be broken, but we didn’t stop to see the prizes awarded in any case. We’d spotted something interesting earlier in the day and decided to head back for a closer look.
We passed through Smalltown, where I used to live, so we took a little detour to allow me to point out my old house to Mr TLC. It was rather strange to drive through the area where I grew up, but which I haven’t visited for more than two decades. A little nostalgia is always nice, but I can’t say I’ve missed the place. We headed off for our first planned stop, which is one of my favourite places: Jodrell Bank, home to the University of Manchester’s beautiful radio telescope. The first thing that strikes you about the Lovell telescope is its sheer size: with a height of up to 89 metres (depending on exactly how it is oriented) and a bowl diameter of 76 metres it really is impressive. Mr TLC had his usual effect – he is after all the man who can make Tower Bridge open just by expressing the desire to see it do so. He casually mentioned that he would like to see the telescope move. Sudden creaks, whirrs and the sounds of various motors indicated that Mr TLC was about to get his wish. First we were treated to the sight of the whole structure rotating on the railway tracks it sits on. This occurred at a surprisingly fast speed – the telescope moves constantly, to correct for the earth’s rotation, but normally rather more imperceptibly. Then the dish tilted downwards until it was almost facing us. It was a treat to watch. There’s various other things to see and do there: a planet trail, an arboretum to visit, a couple of parabolic dishes that will allow you to whisper sweet nothings to someone standing several metres away. We skipped the 3D theatre, but we did stop off to say hello to Copernicus before heading off to meet some charming folk. [more pictures coming soon] Way back in the time known as 2007, Mr TLC and I spent a few happy evenings in the televisual company of Mr Robbie Coltrane, as he wended his way from London to Glasgow via the nation’s B-roads. Actually, the London to Glasgow business was a little misleading, since Robbie’s journey took him veering from one side of the country to the other and back again. But hey, it was only a TV show, we didn’t need geographical or temporal realism. What we did get was a wonderful pastiche of people and places. We loved it.
We’ve always been tempted to follow in Mr Coltrane’s footsteps and set off on a B-Road odyssey of our own. Tomorrow we’re actually doing it: a trip that will start with the dish of the day, before taking us to meet some charming folk and ending on a high point. It’s the silliest day out that I’ve ever planned. Can’t wait. Mr TLC has arrived at a more interesting age. On his last birthday, I suggested that he could spend his days carrying the good folk of Crookes to Woodhouse and back, but apparently he didn’t see himself as that kind of 52. Now he is back in his prime. (I am not currently in my prime, but will be next birthday. There’s a maths question in there somewhere.) Anyhoo, birthdays mean cake and Mr TLC requested the ultra-sweet vanilla sponge and butter cream confection that is favoured by No-Longer-a-Baby A, so that’s what he got, complete with chocolate buttons. Seems to be going down well. I asked him how many candles he would like. Apparently there’s only one possible answer to that question.
Longest day? Not here it isn’t. Some of us are off to bed ridiculously early thank you very much. Going to bed in the daylight is something I associate with childhood, so it seems rather appropriate given the cause of my tiredness. What cause would that be? Someone had a rather sleepless night last night. And why is that appropriate? Well, someone watched Dr Who last night (and rather good it was too, in all of its splendid silliness). Then she had a nightmare, about Dr Who. Honestly, it’s like I’ve regressed to being six years old or something. So, a startled awakening from alarming dreams featuring a curious mixture of Matt Smith, Stonehenge and a long forgotten Tom Baker episode with some rather dodgy stones that preferred wandering about attacking people to the more traditional pursuit of standing about in a circle. Then two hours of not being asleep at all. Ah, the joys of childhood, revisited.
It was brilliant. We were laughing within moments, at one point I was laughing so much I cried. The comedy is very much on the black side, but Four Lions has far more in common with the humour of Dad’s Army than the grisly nature of say, Platoon. We also had huge fun doing some location-spotting [hat tip to Sheffield Blog – and more spoilers via both of those links – including in the trailer!! , even the bits set in London are mostly Sheffield. Some were easy spots (Meersbrook Park is a favourite haunt and I see Kebabish most days on my commute), but others were trickier: we still aren’t entirely certain about our identification of the precipitously steep Jenkin Road and we completely failed to notice that one ‘London’ scene was actually filmed on the roof of the cinema where we were watching it. In fact Chris Morris seems to have featured some of our favourite haunts – how did we fail to spot any filming going on last summer? Just occasionally, I encounter a film that I already want to see again by the time the final credits roll. I’ve just got to decide whether this one gets a second viewing at the cinema or whether I wait for the DVD.
Personally, I’m glad I didn’t see this trailer before I saw the film (too many spoilers – and many scenes that are much funnier in context than out of it), but I’ve giggled at it several times since
Photo: Four lions by Sue Langford. Used under Creative Commons Licence.
I’ve no problem with other people liking it, nor do I mind the fact that almost everyone else in Eng-er-land has festooned their home/car/bicycle/cat with Eng-er-land flags, I just don’t really want to join in. Unfortunately that may be slightly difficult, since apparently every bar, pub, living room and even my school will be showing matches. Still, I’m always up for a challenge, so I resolved to avoid watching any of the World Cup: no sitting through it at the pub to be polite, no sitting through it at home when Mr TLC inevitably gets swept along by the national euphoria. I’m not doing this to make a big point, I just prefer to use my time for the things that I either need to do or want to do. Tonight, on our way out of the Showroom Cinema, we stopped off to use the toilets in the bar. ‘Hmm, what’s that in the corner?’ I thought to myself. Ah, that’ll be a blooming great screen showing (yes, you’ve guessed it) the World Cup. Something tells me my strategy of quietly ignoring it is not going to work…
Photo: No more play ball by Watchcaddy. Used under Creative Commons Licence. |
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