The Garden Day

It was warm, we had some free time, I wondered where we could go and I found a website. You could feed in various options and it would come up with a list. Imagine how I felt when I found myself ticking 'Gardens' as the sort of place I would like to go. There is no getting away from it, middle age is creeping up on me.

 

Anyway I got a list of gardens it was possible to visit and we decided on Dyffryn which looked about the right size, had a café and a shop and wasn't too far away. I was looking forward to it.

 

I was looking forward to it rather less by the time we ended up on a run down housing estate in a dead end street called Dyffryn Gardens. This gave rise to my infamous S*dding Satnav status on Facebook, although as we all know it's not the Satnav so much as the person who puts the location into it....

 

Turns out we had driven for half an hour in the wrong direction and we could have given up and gone home but we pressed on and eventually found ourselves in the right place. And very nice it was too -

 

 

 

I'm sure you don't need captions for poppies and cacti. The café was cheap but the food wasn't very good sadly, and we had no time to explore the shop because by the time we had wandered round most of the gardens I was suffering from a touch of the sun and the OH was suffering from the pollen.

 

If you like gardens, and if you're in South Wales, these are definitely worth a visit,  - but take your own picnic would be my advice.

If it's June, it must be Wimbledon

And I am quite well placed to watch it. I'm in Glasgow in some sort of limbo, waiting to go to a conference in Stirling at the end of the week.

However in a pattern that I suspect repeats itself every year, I settled down to watch some great tennis earlier and was then driven away by the truly puerile commentary.

Maybe I'll give it another go later this afternoon.

The Geek Day

Well Cardiff wasn't all about the singing competition; there was work for the OH and I was revising my Gaelic and then doing my reading and writing assessments. But we also managed to fit in a few tourist-y type trips so that we could almost convince ourselves we were on holiday.

 

Now, as many people know Cardiff is the home of Dr Who, and naturally enough this means an earning opportunity for the BBC, in the shape of something called The Dr Who Experience. How could we resist? (Well I could possibly have resisted quite easily, but there you go).

 

The DWE is a tale of two halves really; there's an interactive bit where you're guided through a warehouse encountering various of Dr Who's foes as you stumble over a very uneven floor, and then an exhibition of props and costumes. For myself, the costumes were the main draw, as I'm truly not an interactive type person, especially if I think it's going to make me look like an idiot. As in this case.....

 

However there were lots and lots of costumes and props

 

Tardis Console Mark 2

 



 

Just in case there is a being in the universe who doesn't already know - this is a Dalek

 

And one of the truly creepy Weeping Angels

 

I seem not to have taken any pictures of the costumes, probably under the impression that I would buy postcards in the extremely well stocked shop, but then didn't. This is not to say that we didn't spend quite a lot of money in the shop; the boys love Dr Who and Christmas is coming after all.

 

I have to say it isn't the cheapest of tourist attractions. There is a café but everyone without exception on Tripadvisor said to stay away from it as it was extremely expensive. We tried to find out how expensive it really was, but there was no published price list visible. Which meant that we couldn't decide quite how horrendous the prices were, but we felt that its absence spoke volumes.

 

To go, or not to go? On balance, if you're at all interested in Dr Who, I would say go. And if you're not, you wouldn't be asking the question! 

Home from Home

We've got so used to living next to water on Orkney that we really miss it when we're away. However the flat we're renting in Cardiff is a waterfront  property, with a balcony no less, so we're not missing our watery outlook.

 

Here's the balcony

 

 

and here's the view from it.

 

 

 

There is a downside in that it's quite noisy, there's a train track just the other side of the bridge and the trains are quite frequent, and we're sleeping with the window open because the weather has been so warm. We're definitely not used to city noise any more. But all in all it's  a nice flat and has made  a good base for a bit of exploring in Cardiff. Although it has to be said that as the OH has been working quite a lot and I've been revising for my written Gaelic test, slightly less intimidating than the oral exam, although possibly not by much, our down time has been limited. A bout of sunstroke didn't help me much yesterday either. I didn't bring a sunhat to Wales for goodness sake! Although obviously I should have.

Oh Look! A Nice Cup of Tea

 

 

 

 

And yes, there is a bit more to it than that. Yesterday we spent some time in Cardiff Bay (it's not just about the singing here) and to finish off the afternoon we went to a place called Cadwaladers for an ice cream sundae. The OH has fond memories of Cadwaladers ice cream from many many holidays in Wales when he was a boy. I was quite a long way through mine before I slapped my forehead and said 'Oh, I should have taken a picture of this for the blog'. I'm always forgetting stuff like that. But then - the fire alarm went off. And every single person in the café just carried on eating and drinking. Stoicism or stupidity? Who knows? We were no exception, we couldn't smell smoke, we couldn't see flames and we'd just handed over  tenner for some icy chocolate and mint confection, so we weren't going anywhere.

 

Sadly it took quite a long time for the manageress to find out how to switch off the alarm (no there really wasn't a fire) and even longer actually to do it. And it was a nasty noise. Even so, we were very surprised when she toured the tables once silence had fallen and offered us whatever we liked to soothe our nerves, on the house. Good service is not dead!

 

We opted for just a pot of tea - as above. I don't know that our nerves needed soothing particularly, but ice cream does make you thirsty.



Gutted!

Or mortified, if you prefer.

Last night was Concert 2. Three sopranos. Two tenors. The women were all good, the men not so good. We were both very disappointed by the judges choice. So no rundown on the evening here. Still too cross. Sorry.

So, here's a thing...

I've noticed. Some men, usually overweight ones, sit down, put their heels together, spread their legs, flop their knees as far apart as they will go, and then place their palms on their thighs.

Why do they do this? It's anti-social, if they are sitting in a theatre or on public transport, and  it's unattractive, wherever they're sitting. But sadly, it seems quite common.

Project 60 - Number 10

Yes, not just watching it, but actually being here. It's very exciting.

St David's Hall, where the main competition, as opposed to the Lieder prize, takes place is lovely. Fittingly, since this is Cardiff, it's a bit like the Tardis and seems much bigger on the inside than the outside would lead you to believe. We couldn't take much of it in yesterday as we were focussed on

a) getting there on time and

b) finding our seats

but I'm sure we'll get to see more of it as the week goes on. Meanwhile the thing that impressed me most was how comfortably cool it was. It had been a hot day in Cardiff and the place was more or less full and our seats were quite high up but it wasn't hot at all. Wish I could say the same about every music venue I've been in.

Anyway Round 1 for the main prize was last night. I'm limiting myself to 3 comments on the men and 4 on the women ( the extra comment being for the frocks, naturally!) So in order of appearance:-

South Korean Bass

1 Good rich voice

2 Struggled with his low notes

3 Should have started, rather than finished, with his Verdi piece, since that was the one he would have done best, but by the time he reached it he was obviously tiring. And he massacred Gremin's aria from Evgeny Onegin, by totally failing any attempt at a line.

Norwegian Mezzo

1 Very safe, if you cast her you would never worry she would miss a note.

2 Too reliant on stock operatic facial tics.

3  Everything she sang sounded the same, except possibly for the Sibelius song at the end where she found a bit of emotion and colour for the voice.

4 The OH and the woman on my left were very taken with her frock which was a sort of lemon-y lime colour. Personally I thought it looked like something her mother could have run up on a domestic sewing machine.

German Bass

1 Got off to a very bad start, only half his voice seemed to be working.

2 He wasn't at all suited to the humorous piece he chose to sing from Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail

3 He will make a great Wagner bass one day, but as Aragorn says, 'That day is not this day', whatever the singer himself believes to the contrary.

 

Byelorussian Soprano

 

1 Beautiful voice, and it's not often you hear me say that about a mezzo. Rich, smoky, gorgeous.

2 Technically very assured, like the Norwegian you never had a moment's worry about whether she would hit the note.

3 The only singer all evening to give me 'that' prickle at the back of  the neck, that says 'Here is great singing'

4 Loved the frock; like the woman wearing it, elegant, and understated.

 

Ukrainian Tenor

 

1 Nice light tenor voice, perfectly suited to the repertoire he chose.

2 He had one surprising piece, which is always good amidst all the Mozart and Verdi and Puccini. His was Gluck and he sang it very well.

3 He came across as a bit 'by the numbers'; you could almost see him counting as he held his notes, and he might as well have had a bubble over his head with 'ff' 'dim' etc written in it at the appropriate times. He was enjoyable to listen to though.

 

I called it for the Byelorussian mezzo, as did the OH, the couple on our left went for the German bass (!), and the jury, who are the ones who matter on the night after all, gave it to the tenor. Interestingly, this was a decision which none of the audience that we heard on the way out agreed with.

 

 

 

Socks and Sunburn

For  a while now I have been toying with the idea of doing a blog post with the title Socks and Sunburn, and then starting it off by saying 'Sorry guys I lied about the sunburn.' However....

here are the socks

 

 

Although I cannot claim to be in want of sock wool, a fact to which I have made passing mention on this blog before, I recently bought another 1.5 kg of the stuff. What can I say? It was an absolute bargain and for a good cause;- to wit the Asylum Seekers Program run by the Quakers in Sunderland. I used to knit for their annual Christmas party, at which they gave out presents, many of the knitted and crocheted variety.  However, the nature of the asylum seekers in the area has now changed and the program is dealing not so much with families these days as single young men. So the focus is on getting stuff to them all year round. Socks, hats, gloves etc are requested. I've never done proper gloves, but I thought I could have a good go at sending them some socks, which is why the 1.5 kg bargain bundle got snapped up like a fly on a fish hook. And these socks are the first fruit.

 

As for the sunburn....well, after a day out in Cardiff Bay yesterday, when I got back to where we're staying, no-one was more surprised than me to discover that, having worn a V-neck top, I had an unsightly red V clearly visible. Well, it will fade to a nicer, healthier looking brown over the next couple of days, I hope.



And We're Off

Well not quite yet, but early tomorrow. All the way to Glasgow, and then Glasgow to Cardiff on Saturday. I am looking forward to this trip so much that I suspect it can only be a let down...but I hope not. Packing for almost five weeks has been a real challenge, but I have included not only my camera, but also my camera cable so I hope to take lots of lovely photos and post them here as the weeks fly past.

 

Now I must go and give some thought to what jewellery I'm taking with me and then try and move a humungous suitcase from the bed so that I can get into it for a relatively early night!

School's OUT for Summer!

Yay! My draft chapter has been sent to my supervisors, my last Gaelic phone tutorial was this morning, I feel like I'm on holiday.

My in-tray is now almost empty,and I have two days to relax before packing to go away for just over a month. I wasn't originally planning to be away for that long, but when I was looking at the calendar it seemed silly to come all the way home from Glasgow for three days before turning round and going back to Stirling. So I'll be staying south.

 

Quite whether I can sensibly pack for being away for not quite five weeks remains to be seen. It does seem likely that the Glasgow flat, already furnished with a washer/dryer, is about to get an iron and ironing board though.

 

Anyway, Cardiff here we come - although not until the weekend, so I daresay I'll be posting here again before then. And naturally taking my laptop with me when I go.

Quick Despatch from the Coal Face

I am in the throes of finishing off the draft of the first chapter of my thesis. Why this has suddenly become, to me, a matter of overwhelming importance I do not know, but I woke up one day recently and decided that it needed to be in before we went waltzing off to Cardiff for the Singer of the World Competition. Possibly it is some strange throwback to my evangelically tinged upbringing; I cannot allow myself to go off and enjoy myself without working hard to deserve it first. Possibly it is some subliminal tic that insists it is time to have something fairly substantial to show for all the work I have been doing. Possibly it's something doom laden that I just don't recognise.

 

Whatever the reason, I do not go to bed tonight until it is finished. If I finish it at a reasonable hour I will start on the referencing, which is not a happy thought, as just the mention of academic referencing brings on a bad attack of what I normally refer to as Cotton Wool Head. Tomorrow I do whatever referencing remains and a bit of tightening up, after which it goes off to my supervisors over the weekend, for them to fins nestling in their in-boxes first thing on Monday morning. They'll thank me for that, not.

 

And then I heave a sigh of relief, pause briefly, and take up the burden which is the next chapter on the list! But after Cardiff.

No Photo of Ice Cream After All.

This is not because the Gaelic oral went badly; in fact it went OK to well. And I am much relieved that it is over and done with. And when it was finished we drove all the way over to Stenness to Gerri's ice cream parlour for a celebratory ice cream.

And it was shut.

So disappointing. I can't complain as it was closed because Gerri is sick, and that's much worse than being disappointed because you can't pig out on a celebratory ice cream.

On the bright side, there is some good TV to watch tonight.

And I heard on Friday that a proposal I had put in for a paper at a conference in Gdansk in October has been accepted. So that was pleasing. I've never done a proper conference paper before and I'm looking forward to doing this.

 

 

Come to that, I've never been to Poland before either. So lots to look forward to.

 

Now, if you'll excuse me, baulked of my ice cream, I am off to knit.