Wednesday is market day, which attracts shoppers - and characters. Today I found that the Bury St Edmunds Evangelist is back, in fine (and loud) voice, with his day glo posters on his board. Apparently he had even had a spectator - but whoever it was appeared to have vacated his/her seat.
OK, I admit it.
I've been feeling a bit Bury'd alive since I got back from York. Hence the no blogging when I had just started on roll of North of England inspired posts.
As Rubymeister of Bury one feels reluctant to post when one is pissed off with Bury St Edmunds. Yet this has always been an occasional feature of my life here. And the original reason I started blogging. So I suppose I should just blog it and be damned.
I got back on Sunday night and it was all so goddam quiet and Bury St Edmundsy. And then I stayed in a for a few days and didn't go out anywhere, which made me feel even crapper. And then I went for coffee in Harriet's with Simon who takes the aerial view of BSE pics, which was very up-cheering. And today I have been on a very fun jaunt to Play World with Karen and her 3 year old during which we spent a lot of time in character as the "two ladies" from Little Britain. This was supposed to be for the benefit of T but was in fact for ours and I found it most therapeutic.
I am still feeling Bury'd Alive though, and am currently looking forward to Thursday, which along with some other ladies ("we're ladies!") shall be spending in London. What is happening to Ruby? :-O
Had it not been for this notice by the plug in the train, it probably wouldn't have occurred to me to think of plugging anything else in other than a laptop or mobile. However, after reading this, I confess that throughout my visit to Yorkshire I have been pondering, every so often, what non-mainstream electrical item I might use on the way back to Bury St Edmunds. Here are some thoughts:
1. A hairdryer - handy if not enough time to finish getting ready for the journey properly.
2. A Clairol Foot Spa. Very relaxing for the way back after all my walking around.
3. A Slo Cooker. Nice smell of stew wafting all round the carriage and a dinner by the end of the jouney. Actually, probably not enough time from York to Bury. Would be good for Lands End to Edinburgh though.
4. A Breville sandwich toaster. That's more like it. Toasties for me - and some to sell to the rest of the carriage.
5. A Flymo strimmer. Could lean out of the window and trim the undergrowth on the embankment when view is obscured.
6. A television set, ROFL! (OK, now I'm just being silly!)
7. A vaccuum cleaner - good idea if carriage not been cleaned properly and crumbs on seat, etc.
8. A mini-fridge to keep own drinks cool!
9. A kettle - make own tea and coffee!
10. A Kenwood Electric Knife on full power - would most likely deter anyone sane from trying to share my table seat.
By the way, if you hadn't already guessed, I am coming back to Bury St Edmunds today. Assuming I don't get chucked off the train, I shall be back by this evening.
Ruby Senior lives right next to Rowntree Park. I walk through it on my way into town, and can get very sidetracked by it sometimes! Above are some snaps from my walk through yesterday.
"This park and the adjoining playing fields were given to the city by Rowntree and Co Ltd. at the close of the Great War (1914-1918) as a tribute to the memory of those members of the compay's staff who at the cost of life or limb or health and in the face of indescribable suffering and hardship served their country in her hour of need. Many were inspired by the faith that this war might be the end of war - that victory would lead to enduring peace and to greater happiness for the peoples of the world ..."
As this dog walker got further up the river, his dog ran off, and I heard him call it back. The dog is called Pete.
Last night I had a dream that I went back to see the house in Leeds where my grandparents used to live.
When I got there, I found it had a huge shopping centre built all around it, and over it. I went inside and the furnishings and everything were just as my grandparents had it - 1930s semi done out like it still is the 1930s - but when you walked out through their front door, you walked straight into a big glizy shopping centre, all constructed from glass and white poles, and JJB Sports was right opposite their doorway.
I didn't like it.
John Cooper Clarke at Fibbers in York, 9 May 2008.
Today, I wanted to eat Punjabi style Indian food in Leeds. So did Erik.
One thing I miss a lot about the North of England is that in Leeds where I was brought up, there were quite a few Indian restaurants catering for the local Indian community, which in Leeds hails mainly from Punjab and from the Punjabi side of Pakistan. The food is very different from that in the Bengali run restaurants catering for English people, which seem to be the standard Indian restaurants elsewhere - including every single Indian restaurant in Bury St Edmunds (and York, I think).
So today, Erik and I went to Roundhay Road in Leeds. My favourite restaurant, Rajah's, which is Sikh run and in a small red brick terraced house on the main road (and the food is DELICIOUS) was still there but closed :-( And as we walked around looking for another Indian or Pakistani restaurant (there used to be quite a few down there) I found they have gone! And now there are just loads of kebab shops, fast food places, pizza restaurants and fried chicken shops. All of them are Asian run, some like in the pic above, serve halal meat, but none of them are serving Indian food. CRISIS! WHY? CRAZINESS!
I can feel an excursion to Bradford coming on. Don't think I'll have time this trip though. Grrr. Ruby doesn't like Yorkshire Fried Chicken >:-(
Robin Hood's Bay, North Yorkshire Coast - taken this evening around 7pm.
For the past ten days, I have been cameraless. The man with a dog photo in the post below was cheating - it was one I'd prepared earlier.
My cameralessness was brought about by Mr Ruby visiting his parents in Kenya for ten days and taking the camera with him. I have felt quite bereft without access to photographic equipment, especially when it all culminated this bank holiday weekend with myself and the kids spending a couple of days in London.
There was one thing I would really have liked to take a picture of in London. Nope, not the humongous tulips in a big fat municipal flower bed outside Buckingham Palace which kicks the Abbey Gardens' ass right out the window (sorry, but they are the Queens's tulips and she's probably just showing off). Nor was it my plate of dim sum in Chinatown, or the kids going wild in Hamley's at the sight of five floors of wall-to-wall toys.
I would actually have liked to take a picture of our very bizarre hotel window.
We stayed at Heathrow so the place was soundproofed and the window had two panes of glass, with quite some space in between them. This was annoying as it meant you couldn't rest your arms on the windowsill and you somehow felt fenced off from the scene outside. But after standing in front of the window for a while, looking at the aeroplanes coming in to land (we were on the 5th floor) and at the other stationery ones in the airport, the danger was that you'd forget it was a double glazed window. Which I did, and this resulted in a massive clonk to the forehead. Fortunately the kids were too busy arguing to notice and I slunk off into the shower to cool myself off after a day walking round London.
While I was showering, their arguing seemed to escalate and I suddenly heard a thwack followed by my daughter screaming. I grabbed on a towel, blasted out into the bedroom to find my daughter clutching her face and sobbing while Little J was standing by her looking sheepish.
"You probably won't believe this," he said, "But I didn't touch her. We were arguing but she wasn't even anywhere near me. I was over here, and she was over there, looking through the window. I don't know what happened."
"Ah ... but I think I might," I said.
My daughter's crying was now turning into a half laugh as she explained: "I tried to look through the window, and I forgot there was another pane of glass, and I banged my nose right into it."
Mr Ruby joined us on Monday morning, his flight from Nairobi getting in at around 7am. We were waiting to see if the window would get him, but being a frequent traveller he is used to soundproofed airport hotel rooms and wasn't suckered. He also brought back some rather nice photos from Kenya. And Ruby got camera back, yaaay!
1. There are no less than three bars in Mr Ruby's parents' house in Kenya. This is because he dad is an interior designer/architecht and is also rather fond of a drink :-D. His hobby is building bars. This one is outside in the grounds of the house, under a thatched roof area.
2. Mr Ruby likes chameleons. There are plenty of them in his parents' garden at the right time of year. He used to keep them as pets when he was a kid.
3. The chameleon looks very much like the stone it's climbing on here!
4. Village Market - a tourist market in Nairobi. I like poking around in all the stuff here - but haven't been to Kenya since 2003 now.
5. Wasps. Mr Rubes took this pic to show me what wasps are (here on a nest outside his parents' house - eek!). In summer Mr Ruby and I often have a conversation which goes as follows:
Ruby: Look out! There's a wasp!
Mr Ruby:That's not a wasp, it's a bee.
Ruby: No it's not. It's a wasp.
Mr Ruby: It's not a wasp. When we go to Kenya again, I'll show you what a wasp is.
So now we know.
I didn't set out to begin a "random man with dog" series but it seems it has begun.
Hmm, OK, but not a brilliant shot. That person just walking along the path is a bit too far away. Too late now. Wonder what it would look like with them ever futher away though?
OK, how 'bout no. Even worse. Big empty stretch of path. Needs someone in it. I think I can hear some one approaching from behind though. (Ruby looks over shoulder.) Yup. Man with dog. Very good. I'll snap them as soon as they go past.
Oh, marvellous. Thanks a lot mate. Nice photo that makes.
RATS! They moved off at the speed of light and now they're too far away to make a nice picture. (Ruby sighs.) No one else approaching, and it's time to wend my way home. Shame. Man with Dog in Abbey Gardens would have been a nice picture.
Now this man with dog looks altogether better. Bam! Nice photo. This one is a keeper.
Overheard on the way into the East Anglian Beer Festival on Wednesday morning this week:
Door person 1: What'd be really funny, was if all the old biddies came in to the beer festival because they didn't know the craft fair was cancelled. I'd love to see that, ha ha ha!
Door person 2: No, but they will. No one will have told them and they won't know it's a beer festival this week.
Door person 1: Ha ha ha ha!
Door person 2: You think I'm joking, but I'm not.
Door person 1: Ha ha ha! That would be brilliant.
Door person 2: They will. You'll see it happen. They really will. 
For those who live outside Bury St Edmunds, let me explain some background:
It is one of those bizarre quirks of the town that every Wednesday in the Corn Exchange there takes place what is billed as a Craft Fair. This is advertised around town by a chap wearing peeling billboards and with old style walkman headphones on. The assortment of stalls at the craft market is actually quite random, most of them being of the carbooter variety, interspersed with an older lady at a table here and there who makes her own greetings cards or knitted dollies.
This on its own is a bit off-beat, but add to that the fact that the Corn Exchange on Wednesdays seems to be the unofficial dining place for local over-70s (who take over the half of the hall without stalls in, and are served tea and ham sandwiches from the hatch) and you have something truly very Bury St Edmunds. And I'm obviously not talking about new concept gentrified Bury St Edmunds. I mean the real Bury which is, dammit, just plain odd a lot of the time.
Anyway, I was still around at the beer festival on Wednesday lunch time, and do you know what? Door person 2 turned out to be quite correct. The elderly peeps really did still come in.
Look at all the flags of St Edmund at the entrance to the East Anglian Beer Festival! And the very nice ladies welcoming the guests too of course!
Here's the bar where you go to choose which beer to sample (I didn't find anything lager-like if you read my last post, but did sample some very nice ciders). And the chap to the very far right of the photo above is guess who ...?
Mr Spandau himsef, Tony Hadley!! Hooray!! Here seen posing by the dark ruby mild. 21st Century Mummy and I did an excellent job of stalking him round the Corn Exchange. Everywhere Tone went, we went, and even mangaged to exchange a bit of banter with his Tonyness every now and again.
If you think I might have grabbed him for an in depth interview, sorry - I was too busy suffering from the nervous giggles every time we rubbed shoulders, and as soon as he was out of earshot, switched into an involuntary cider-induced Spandau title-punning mode to 21st C Mummy.
"What sort of cheese do you think it is in these sandwiches? Suffolk Gold? Ha ha ha!"
"I hope that's not my mobile ringing, I really don't need this pressure on. Ha ha!"
"It's only when you leave, you'll wish we'd interviewed him properly you know."
"This cider's nice. I just can't get enough. Oh, sorry, that was Depeche Mode."
I have to say 21stCM was better at Spandau titles than me, having been a real fan in the eighties, and could even carry on the lyrics. I was impressed and out-Spandau'd.
I think Tony H must have liked me though - why else would he pose for his photo shoot by the Dark Ruby?
The East Anglian Beer Festival is declared OPEN! That's Guy Ransome to the right of Tony, the organiser of the festival.
Tony did seem to like his beer! There was apparently (according to the programme) a "Hadley" beer from the local Red Rat Craft brewery, which Tony is involved with, available to sample, but it wasn't "on" yet this morning. If anyone tastes it, please do let me know what it's like!!
Lightweights that we are with drinking at 11am, 21stCM and I did have to leave quite soon for a coffee. But you can read her angle on this morning's events over at 21st Century Mummy blog.
That was the title of a song by David Cassidy. I bought an album with this track on, when I was about 6, and loved it. Sadly, although I still have the album, I no longer have an old skool record player.
So I tracked down a CD of it on the net, unexpectedly only available from a specialist dealer in Japan. A sum of twelve quid and a week later, I slapped it into my CD player, hoping to be transported back in time by happy memories of 6 yr old me dancing round my playroom. Instead, I instantly remembered why I'd stopped listening to it by the time I was about 7. Because it is crud.
On a brighter note, it really is like a summer day today in Bury St Edmunds and I had a walk round town in my lunch break. The floral warts in the Abbey Gardens are looking radiant (sir) but you may need your sunglasses for the last photo on here which is way too flowery. This is Bury St Edmunds however so municipal flowers must rule. Enjoy:
As someone who spends a lot of time in the company of Almost Mrs Average (aka 21st C Mummy) both socially and work-wise, it has been impossible for me not to be swept along in the wake of the Rubbish Diet - her attempt to reduce the rubbish she sends to landfill to zero.
Pics from top left, anti-clockwise:
1. Washing up. No more dumping left over take-away or ready meal cartons in the bin either unwashed or with food left in, because it's easier. The whole lot gets washed now, and recycled.
2. Washing tin foil in soapy water. I would have never bothered to do this before. It's really not as much trouble as I'd thought. I was a big cling film user but now that I know there is no way to dispose of it cleanly - it can only go to landfill - I haven't bought any more. I cover left over food bits in the fridge either with a plate or with foil - and am going to buy some tupperware containers for the purpose, to cut down the use on foil.
3. That's the contents of my black (landfill) bin after one week. It's just less than half full. Normally, it would be just over half full. This is the difference made by being more careful that everything recyclable goes in the recycling bin. You may notice there's an old broken metal framed chair in there, binned through habit and because I know it'll be lying around for ages before we manage to get it to the dump. However, conscience pangs eventually overcame me and it has now been taken out while I ponder other options for it.
4. The unrecyclable. Things like this have really started to annoy me. This butter container wasn't marked as to whether or not it could be recycled. It was a strange mix of plastic and paper, and I eventually ended up binning it. Next time I have decided to only buy butter in greaseproof paper and transfer it into a butter dish. Other annoying items along the way have been crisp packets, cheese string wrappers, sellotape, polystyrene packaging, bubble wrap, packaging which is a mix of paper and plastic and impossible to separate out. My question is that if the only destination for some of these things is to be dumped in the countryside for ever, then why do we allow them to exist in the first place?
Another result of my recent course of action, as well as reducing what's in the black bin, has been to increase our recyclable rubbish output - which was already on the high side. This photo shows my recyclables bin after 2 weeks, just before collection. It has been compacted several times, I couldn't close the lid on it, and had to resort to an overflow box. I don't think we're that uncommon in producing this much recylable stuff. The family who live opposite who are also a family of four have 2 blue bins, both of which get filled.
