Thanks to: http://butisit.deviantart.com/#/d4cs46b

No I don’t. Yes I do. No I don’t. Yes I do. Anyway, Beth having written this: I love talking to my Dad about anarcho-syndicalism, socialism, communism, capitalism, feminism, religion, anarchy, protest, work, profit, everything. He knows so much, explains how the world works so clearly, and usually has an answer/explanation for everything… on Twitter has prompted someone to guess (in a kindly way, I’m sure) that I might be a Deconstructionist and helpfully to provide a link to an article purporting to explain what that means together with a ‘critique’ of some other approaches to sociology, philosophy and politics that he labels as leftist. It is indeed an interesting article but I ain’t one of them - deconstructionist, that is. Can’t think what kind of an -ist I am really. There’s probably an -ist label for that disability though!

The twitter-guesser then moved on to wonder if I was actually a social constructionist then? after Beth ventured to suggest that Marxist, i.e. materialist would do for the moment. Turns out the guesser ( who seems determined (desperate?) to attach -ists here and there ) is a Christian Socialist and practising Catholic and the article writer, Robert Locke, admired by the twitter-guesser, has also suggested that if all Palestinians were forcibly “removed” from all of Israel, that would help to solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  After the initial discomfort of wondering what I was being described as and not liking Locke’s style too much, I can feel a sense of comfort returning.

England are playing cricket against the West Indies and are described as being in a strong position on the first day because their opponents have scored 243 runs while losing 9 batsmen. England have yet to bat and so languish at 0 for 0. How can that be a strong position yet? If you are reading this and don’t understand cricket, forget it, it’s not a matter of life or death, it’s much more important than that, as Bill Shankly once described soccer.

Bill Shankly. http://www.lfchistory.net/Articles/Article/2410

If you don’t know what soccer is, never mind.

Anyway, here’s what I wrote in answer to his question about the restrictions imposed on the learning process by teachers who follow the banking concept of teaching:

“Hello ****, it is good to read this. As you probably remember, despite being a “qualified” teacher, I rarely worked with what might be called conventional groups or classes; I was fortunate enough to choose a career with those pupils/students who didn’t fit in with the system and so were somewhat discriminated against. Hence I was largely left to my own devices, at secondary, further and higher levels. Such freedom to deal with, as you put it, the process of learning, was always attractive to me, rather than the “banking” concept of education (which is pretty useless on its own) and allows little room for even the slightest eccentric aberration from a prescribed syllabus.

I have known and admired some teachers of “mainstream” classes who were able to venture easily into such areas and activities, going where their pupils’ questions took the lesson; thus, they were not afraid to say “I don’t know” and education would occur!”

Anyway, 2012 has brought a new knee for Barbara, a permanent post for Jill and the third anniversary of my giving up smoking. Can’t think of any interesting additions, hyperlinks or pictures right now, maybe later.

Leaving behind the infernal race of modern life in the car park on Trentham Road, between a railway track and an electricity sub-station, I took the leaf-covered path, all orange, brown, yellow and black. To the left, or East, is an industrial estate, just discernible through the undergrowth, but audible with hums and rattles from time to time but soon left behind.

Two discreet information boards helped to nurture the growing sense of history such, sometimes ancient, places evoke after a few minutes walking. For example Wedgwoods and all their doings are involved, as the Reserve is leased from the Wedgwood “estate”.  I wish that I could have not noticed the rogue apostrophe or ‘Crewe Comma’ on one board though, where whose had become who’s.  Too much proofreading over the years for that to slip through, unfortunately.

Anyway, the path between the trees suddenly reached a beautiful place aptly called The Glade, just occupying its time there, getting on with being naturally attractive to any human eye that cared to visit.  So far the only others enjoying the woods had been a couple ‘walking’ a very energetic, bouncy and obviously happy dog. Then further on into deeper darker parts was a woman on her own apart from her small dog. She had walked these woods for 45 years but had come in from the southern end and had never been up as far as where I explained my car was, all of half a mile or so. We parted after a short chat, as it was getting late into the afternoon and we both needed to find our ways out in the twilight.

Such an experience of peace clears the mind and spirit. That’s what it felt like.

[photos from the website]

Poetry has always been a minor interest of mine, humming quietly along in the background to a life, ever since that A Level course in Eng. Lit. at school with good old “Gabby” Hayes where he introduced us to the beauty of John Keats’ work. Alongside many of his own fine poems, W Terry Fox read Keats’ Ode to Autumn today, (read and hear here) which took me right back to those days in that particular seat in that particular classroom, as clear as if  I were there now.

I remember those times with Gabby (middle row, second from the right) as a bejewelled island in a murky sea of dark drudgery and suffering from the rest of my schooldays. There were only four of us in the class, as I remember, which added to the privilege and sheer pleasure of coming from a bookless and often cheerless home to that highly skilled introduction to classic literature over two years that probably helped to nurture whatever semblance of sanity I ever had. Thanks Gabby and Thanks Terry.

Poetry in Chicago? Well, here’s a poem by

Robert Pinsky featured on the excellent website of The Poetry Foundation based there; from such a simple thing like the next time you put on a shirt or skirt, he has fashioned simple but resonant words.

Not bad before treatment, but crying out for some TLC aka Nitromors and Stanley blade - crude but effective.

"Advertising" the beeswax before applying it

The finished job, with the door folded away to reveal great shelves

The door is made of slats stuck to a strip of leather so it can roll down and around in a channel in the base. Not sure what we’ll use the shelves / boxes for yet.

Just a few more random shots to show some of the beauty of the wood and perhaps to evoke the response, “They don’t make’em like that anymore!”:

The brass door catch and lock. No key unfortunately, but looking good.

Better just read the instructions before applying beeswax

Pre-waxing door, showing the beautiful grain in the slats

A bit more buffing up now it's indoors....

...and there's the shine

Photographer: Barbara Mary Granter

We had a visitor to stay recently who brought 2 wheelchairs with her and it was interesting to say the least to observe the interaction of two female friends with physical disabilities. (Somehow I’ve just managed typos which gave rise to “fiends” and “diabilities”).

One of our neighbours had her 4th birthday and we went round for the celebrations including a barbeque.

With their new boxer puppy,

another visiting boxer and numerous children of all ages it all made for an enjoyable evening in familiar physical surroundings (borrowing light from our outside lights) but unfamiliar social surroundings.

Met up yesterday with two old student colleagues from Brighton days back in the 60s, for lunch at Salford Quays / Lowry Centre.   We took Dave, another friend from those days

Mag and Dave Futcher at the Lowry, Salford Quays

so there was lots of reminiscing and “Do you remember so-and-so…?” which with some reasonable food made for a great hour or 3.

Dave Clifford with the Futchers at the Lowry, Salford Quays

Mag Futcher at the Lowry

Later that day Dave and I went to the Victoria Theatre, Stoke-on-Trent for the first of our season of orchestral concerts. The programme was a delight as usual.

Rushing out now to another meal with friends, such is the social whirl these days. Harrogate next weekend to meet up with two more friends, who are definitely not fiends.

Must have been one of the best days of the year as far as the weather was concerned and I was pleased to be fit and free enough to enjoy it in this way.

We bought it for £20 from an antique shop at Wolseley Bridge, Staffordshire when it looked like this

with a piece of brown, damaged lino inset into the top, coming loose. That’s the picture I sent to Ursula, the researcher at St. Bride Library to see if she could identify whether it was indeed a “newspaper lettering table” as a friend thought. She is going to show it to Nigel the librarian to help, as it does have a familiar look.

It has been a pleasant day in the garden doing the last part of the cleaning while listening to the 3rd day of the Test Match (cricket) against India. There can be few better ways of spending a Saturday afternoon in July. Good tip from the internet – clean Bakelite with Brasso.

Just as I had finished applying the first coat of finishing wax and brought it indoors, Julie next door came round with her delightful 2 and a half year old son Adam. I took him up the shed and showed him the bees coming to and going from their nest (hive?) under the floor, which he thought was amazing and great fun as we stood in their flight path, which of course it is.

The two literature classes I have become a member of are to start up again in September. The tutor of one has sent us the “syllabus” for hers, with the title Aspects of Empire with a reading list of works all completely new to me, which will take me where I’ve rarely been in terms of style and subject – Paul Theroux, Kowloon Tong, V S Naipaul, A Bend in the River, Paul Scott, The Jewel in the Crown, Leonard Woolf, The Village in the Jungle and Jonathan Swift, A Modest Proposal. Looking forward to all that. The other “tutor” – this isn’t strictly accurate as we all “volunteer” to contribute a paper or a short talk on something under our general theme – has suggested that I might like to do a presentation on the Beat Generation of writers. Our theme is American Literature 1940-1960 which should be great for me. I’ve revisited Howl already and bought the Penguin Portable Beat Reader. Hours and weeks of unadulterated pleasure there, then.