Rhubarb! Rhubarb!
Dec. 13th, 2020 08:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arkessianStolen from oursin and legionseagle . I have thriftily combined their topics.
Fantasy
A life-long love. I can't remember what age I was when I realised that (1) the things in books were usually made up; (2) very often it was not only the events and people that were made up, but even the places involved; and (3) people in books could do things that people around me couldn't.
I supposed for a while that the lack of fantastical abilities in the people around me was down to their personal lack of skills, and I would eventually encounter somebody who could really do magic...at which point I would run away and become their student and learn to do magic myself.
There is, of course, still time for this to happen.
Family History/Genealogy
Something 20 years ago, a friend said: you should take up Family History -- it would suit you to a T.
And they were right. What's not to like? Meticulous record keeping; logical thinking; ferreting around in archives (not such much of that these days, as the basic records are online, but the more interesting ones aren't -- Can I tempt you with a workhouse admissions register, anyone? Perhaps a lease for three lives?) ; combining evidence from half a dozen sources that each in themselves aren't sufficient to prove something but when combined give you that Eureka moment...
To be honest, it wouldn't matter whose family history I was researching -- the pleasure is in the process, not the end result. Although it is satisfying to know exactly how creative my mother was with the truth. "My father spent a lot of time with the redcaps while he was in the Army." Absolutely true -- he spent most of his 16 year hitch (when he wasn't on the run) in the glasshouse.
Gardening
Growing up in Birmingham, the activity we called gardening was in truth nothing of the kind: we spent all our time digging drainage ditches in a long back garden running down towards a river, with springs that appeared out of nowhere each year and reduced the garden to a muddy bog. Mum made an effort to grow some food -- gooseberries and rhubarb are what I remember (funny how I can't stand rhubarb and gooseberries to this day), and kept rabbits to sell for the pot, but mostly it was the aforesaid muddy bog. No flowers!
Moving to London didn't cultivate an interest in gardening either -- the two maisonnettes that I lived in (in the halcyon days when it was possible to buy somewhere in London on an average wage) both had pocket handkerchief gardens, most of which had been concreted/paved over. I planted a few herbs in the concrete edged beds and very little else.
Arriving on the Wiltshire/Gloucestershire borders, I had to learn to garden properly, in self-defence: letting the weeds take over is not a viable strategy. (Well, it is -- you can just let the blow-ins seed and call it a wild-life garden, or a study in cow parsley, nettles and dandelions -- but I try to be a good neighbour). In the ensuing 30 years, I've improved my skills considerably. I can no longer do the physical work myself, but have found a great gardener who is very happy for me to point and say: that needs dividing; those peonies are in the wrong place; can you plant 150 tulip bulbs next week. It's never going to win a prize at Chelsea but I'm happy with what I've got.
An Englishwoman Abroad
I was about to say I've managed to visit a few countries in Europe, over the years, and made a few sallies into North America.. And then I thought, let's be accurate about the tally:
Some of these were work trips -- the day trips to German were a particular delight between 2004 and 2008; Cannes in November is not glamourous; cheap hotels in Brussels seem to be in particularly dodgy neighbourhoods; but Prague was lovely even if our work hosts thought we would all want to go to Irish pubs every night. (Which was better than repeated trips to the Essen Christmas market -- there is only so much Christmas bonhomie I can take.)
If I were to pick a place I'd like to return to it would be Iceland and/or the Faroes... Alas, I think my travelling days are probably done. London would be an adventure these days!
oursin and legionseagle . I have thriftily combined their topics.Fantasy
A life-long love. I can't remember what age I was when I realised that (1) the things in books were usually made up; (2) very often it was not only the events and people that were made up, but even the places involved; and (3) people in books could do things that people around me couldn't.
I supposed for a while that the lack of fantastical abilities in the people around me was down to their personal lack of skills, and I would eventually encounter somebody who could really do magic...at which point I would run away and become their student and learn to do magic myself.
There is, of course, still time for this to happen.
Family History/Genealogy
Something 20 years ago, a friend said: you should take up Family History -- it would suit you to a T.
And they were right. What's not to like? Meticulous record keeping; logical thinking; ferreting around in archives (not such much of that these days, as the basic records are online, but the more interesting ones aren't -- Can I tempt you with a workhouse admissions register, anyone? Perhaps a lease for three lives?) ; combining evidence from half a dozen sources that each in themselves aren't sufficient to prove something but when combined give you that Eureka moment...
To be honest, it wouldn't matter whose family history I was researching -- the pleasure is in the process, not the end result. Although it is satisfying to know exactly how creative my mother was with the truth. "My father spent a lot of time with the redcaps while he was in the Army." Absolutely true -- he spent most of his 16 year hitch (when he wasn't on the run) in the glasshouse.
Gardening
Growing up in Birmingham, the activity we called gardening was in truth nothing of the kind: we spent all our time digging drainage ditches in a long back garden running down towards a river, with springs that appeared out of nowhere each year and reduced the garden to a muddy bog. Mum made an effort to grow some food -- gooseberries and rhubarb are what I remember (funny how I can't stand rhubarb and gooseberries to this day), and kept rabbits to sell for the pot, but mostly it was the aforesaid muddy bog. No flowers!
Moving to London didn't cultivate an interest in gardening either -- the two maisonnettes that I lived in (in the halcyon days when it was possible to buy somewhere in London on an average wage) both had pocket handkerchief gardens, most of which had been concreted/paved over. I planted a few herbs in the concrete edged beds and very little else.
Arriving on the Wiltshire/Gloucestershire borders, I had to learn to garden properly, in self-defence: letting the weeds take over is not a viable strategy. (Well, it is -- you can just let the blow-ins seed and call it a wild-life garden, or a study in cow parsley, nettles and dandelions -- but I try to be a good neighbour). In the ensuing 30 years, I've improved my skills considerably. I can no longer do the physical work myself, but have found a great gardener who is very happy for me to point and say: that needs dividing; those peonies are in the wrong place; can you plant 150 tulip bulbs next week. It's never going to win a prize at Chelsea but I'm happy with what I've got.
An Englishwoman Abroad
I was about to say I've managed to visit a few countries in Europe, over the years, and made a few sallies into North America.. And then I thought, let's be accurate about the tally:
- England, Scotland and Wales (I suspect Scotland and Wales will count as abroad in the not too distant future)
- France
- Spain
- Belgium
- The Netherlands
- Luxembourg
- Germany
- Denmark
- Sweden
- Norway
- Finland
- Iceland
- The Faroes
- The Czech Republic
- Canada (Montreal)
- USA (Denver, Chicago, Wisconsin)
Some of these were work trips -- the day trips to German were a particular delight between 2004 and 2008; Cannes in November is not glamourous; cheap hotels in Brussels seem to be in particularly dodgy neighbourhoods; but Prague was lovely even if our work hosts thought we would all want to go to Irish pubs every night. (Which was better than repeated trips to the Essen Christmas market -- there is only so much Christmas bonhomie I can take.)
If I were to pick a place I'd like to return to it would be Iceland and/or the Faroes... Alas, I think my travelling days are probably done. London would be an adventure these days!
