History

 I have been inspired to do a little research into my family and town, Kidsgrove. I have searched for the photo of my great-grandmother's shop and pub for a while and this morning I found one.

If you click on this link it should bring up the photo.

https://www.search.staffspasttrack.org.uk/Details.aspx?&ResourceID=4647&PageIndex=9&SearchType=2&ThemeID=329

I scanned a photo of my grandparent's house where my mother grew up. It was in Hardings Wood, Kidsgrove next to the Blue Bell pub. It was condemned to be pulled down. At the time my mother's sister, my aunty Lizzie still lived there alone. She was a single woman who was almost blind and severely deaf. Her only pleasure in life was playing cards. Daily she found her way to the pub next door by feeling her way along the fence in front of the house. There she always found someone who would play cards with her. She liked to drink Guinness too. So, from the day the council, by the way the councillor who decreed the condemning of the house knew the situation, she cried. She cried herself to death. Of, course she was offered, new accommodation but what could she do in a strange new environment. She was almost blind and deaf.  So, the council succeeded, and the brewery got their carpark. The pub is still there today and since the construction of the carpark it has gone from strength to strength. My aunty Lizzie was a disabled old woman who didn't have long to live. They could have waited. 

I also found this photo of a man filling in the old legging tunnel.

 

Greenham 40 years anniversary.

 I did go to Greenham. I went more than once. Sometimes for a day sometimes for a week or more. 

The first time I was really worried that I would be cold. It was Winter and it was freezing. I had a tent of course and a sleeping bag and I think I took a quilt. I was not cold, in fact, I woke in the night because I was too hot. 

Going to Greenham awakened me from my capitalistic stupor. The first an most important thing I learned was that women were /are amazing. It seemed strange when I got on the coach and was addressed by a woman. It was the first time I had the experience of a woman being in charge and not a man. Then of course everything in the camp was organised by women. There were no men. 

Vegan/veggie

  Dear Woman's Hour, My diet change began in the 80s when I learned that there is not enough land on the globe for everyone to eat as much meat as we do in the west. So I stopped eating meat. I moved to Brittany in 2003. There was a dairy/ beef farm which surrounded my house. I sometimes watched calves being born from my dining room window. I knew that the poor cow would have the calf taken away in a few weeks. ( I heard the cows crying for days after). 

Then the cow was milked twice daily, not even by hand. I learned this by asking a farmer what the French word was for "milking". His reply was "Robo(t)". It took some time for me to understand what he meant. Apparently the cows walked into the milking parlour at the same time twice a day and they were automatically connected to robots. That was when I gave up all dairy products. 

Giving up milk was easy for me since I had never liked cow's milk. I was made to drink it in school. I didn't like the smell or the look of the crates of empty milk bottles. I wasn't overly fond of cheese either. I rarely ate cream except on a Christmas trifle so no problem there.  Protein was not a problem because beans and pulses were available in all supermarkets. Tofu which is considered the best protein one can eat was also on sale. I continued to eat fish which solved the problem when eating out.  That changed after visiting a huge fish market. I felt so angry when I saw live lobsters and crabs with their claws tied together on marble slabs. I had been wary of tuna since I became aware of nuclear waste in the Pacific Ocean. 

So I realised that I had become a vegan. Vegetarianism was rare in France. Vegan was not a word I had even heard in France. 

I am now back in UK and I am pleased to find shopping as a vegan quite easy. Oat milk and even vegan "cheese" is readily available in most Supermarkets.

I do prefer to cook meals myself. Mainly because one is never quite sure what is in a vegan ready meal or vegan cheese! or no-chicken chicken pieces, or a no-beef burger. I don't wish to eat pretend meat and no, I do not miss bacon.

I am very happy with my diet and was pleased to hear that I am helping in the fight against global warming, a subject close to my heart.

Brazil part 2

 Later I succeed in buying an international telephone card from a lottery kiosk. It took some time and the aid of two or three assistants who were desperate to help me. I paid knowing that it  probably wouldn't work.  It didn't. A young man had pointed to a phone but after several attempts I gave up.

I am now sitting in a  supermarket hot Amarillo, delicious. I look outside. It is raining again. I it has rained for two weeks-since I arrived in fact. I was told to bring warm weather clothes, beach clothes in fact. I have spent one afternoon on the beach. The waves are too big to risk swimming and the under current  grazes and bruises ones body as it drags one over the coarse sand.

I have bought lots of traditional rubbish but never expected to that I would have to buy an umbrella.

A few days ago I heard Robbie Williams song Angels over the Tannoy in a supermarket. At the moment I can hear "New York City".

When I return to the apartment we will watch the daily diet of soaps on TV interspersed with adverts which are given more time than the actual programmes.

Yesterday when I was looking at underwear and nighties a young man asked if he could help me. he spoke English but I really didn't want a young man helping me to choose knickers.

The women here are beautiful and obviously frequent the many beauty salons which are as prolific as pubs in England. I noticed the fashions subtly accommodate the women's stomachs. There doesn't seem to be the same desire to look like a stick insect that I have noticed in other countries. The young men spend their days and evening either in the sea surfing or on the beach playing football no matter what the weather. Oh and the footballers are mostly barefooted.

Last Saturday I went to a wedding. It was the wedding of a couple who had been living together and had a child. So there was a wedding reception and a fourth birthday party for the daughter. It was held on the terrace bar of a football club. By hanging over the balcony I could see two local teams training - all bare-footed. I think I could see one pair of boots.

There was the biggest display of balloons I have ever seen and sweets, smarties, marshmallows, chocolate ladybirds and wrapped toffees heaped and piled in patterns. There were heaps of barbequed meat too with a serve yourself salad table and a metre square cake.

The young people set up a sound system - I say sound system because what I heard barely resembled music, not music as I know it. The sound became louder and louder.

A smartly dressed but stern looking woman was placed opposite me because she spoke English. She said, "How are you?" then turned to my friend and rattled away in Portuguese.

Jocara said, "Why don't you talk now that you have someone who speaks English?"

I thought why doesn't she speak to me. Eventually she looked down her nose at me and said,  "What would you like to say?" So I politely Asked her where she had learned English and had she been to England. She said that she had travelled all over Europe, her father had worked for the German government he spent 3 months every year there. I asked her again how she had learned English.

 She replied," It is very easy for me to learn. I read newspapers and children's comics, it is very easy for me."

I ask her again if she has been to England.

"No the English are very cold."

Why do people find it so easy to insult me. I am never knowingly rude to people I meet here.

"Have you been to France? " I asked.

"I would love to go to Paris, it's my dream to go to Paris."

"Why do you want to go to Paris?" I asked.

I burst out laughing. ( Was that rude?)

"Are you interested in Art?"

"Not at all".

How can I communicate with this woman.

The music gets increasingly louder, the wind blows across the terrace. I have no warm clothes. I am freezing. I try to think of a plausable excuse to leave. Just as I am composing a sentence in French to speak to Jocara to say I am leaving they send in the clowns. Really. A young couple, and I mean young. Like policemen are getting younger are clowns too?  They appear from the toilets.

 

July garden on utube

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aeISH9ouF2Q

Diaries Diaries Brazil Part ONE

 I have been looking for a quote by Dorothy Rowe. This morning I looked through some old diaries with no luck but found them all fascinating. I read a very long account of my month's sojourn in Brazil. I think it might worth writing it up on this blog. It will take some time as it is quite long but I feel it is worth doing.

As I walk past an Italian Supermarket I wonder where I am. Surrounded by skyscraper flats and hotels it could be anywhere in the world. The noise of the traffic is deafening and fatiguing. A barefooted youth passes me carrying a surf board. I spent the morning in an internet cafe. I follow the youth. Is he going to the beach? No he's not so I change direction hoping to reach the beach and a more peaceful space. I glimpse the sea and quicken my steps. I wait 5 mins to cross the road. When I reach the beach the noise of the traffic beats the sound of the crashing waves. I wish I was a surfer at least I could escape the thundering traffic.

From hunger I almost enter a McDonald's but opting instead for a restaurant. Despite not being able to speak the language except for the compulsory hello, please, thankyou and how much (very important) I manage to order chicken and chips. It took half an hour  to cook but it was delicious. I normally try to eat vegetarian but being worn out from the incessant noise I fancied comfort food. Also this country does not understand vegetarianism and prides itself in having restaurants which serve practically only meat.

Whilst eating my meal I watch a barefooted old man pass amidst the heavy traffic. He is pushing a handcart laden with rubbish. In the opposite direction pass a horse and cart driven by two young men who I suspect would have been in school in many other parts of the world. This is also full of rubbish.