My dog has fleas... and Amazon says 'thank you'

"But Angie, you don't have a dog!"
"That's true... but please read on."

Part Two of my mission to enhance my social life was successfully launched last Thursday evening when my favourite cousin and I started our Beginners' Ukulele Class at a nearby school.  We were joined by eight other novices - all but one of them ladies - and by our tutor Matt, who has promised to take things nice and slowly.

We learned how to hold our ukuleles and how to strum them, which is not as I'm pretending to do in the photo - I should be using my index finger.  Well, I am a beginner!  We also learned four chords - C7, F, D7 and G.  The first is dead easy; the last is a pig.  Finally, we put it all together to accompany Matt as he sang You ain't nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time...

By the end of the 90 minute lesson my left hand was aching - mainly due to that darned G chord - and the following morning the tip of my left index finger was numb from pressing too hard. I'm confident, though, that practice will soon loosen up my tired joints and guide my fingers to the right place.

So on Friday evening, feeling that a whole new world of ukulele playing lay open before me, I decided to cash in a couple of my hard-won Amazon vouchers (courtesy of Valued Opinions) and buy a cheap ukulele and bag (£19.79) and a tuner (£6.19).  A couple of days later three packages arrived - the ukulele and bag, the tuner and a copy of Antony Beever's mammoth volume, The Second World War.  Being a good, honest girl, I emailed Amazon to point out their mistake.  Within an hour came the following reply...

Hello Angela,  

I understand that you have received an extra item along with your order.  First, I would like to thank you for informing us about the issue and for your ongoing support and continual purchasing throughout the years. 

Your purchase history is outstanding and I would personally like to keep your patronage. You are certainly the type of customer that we would like to retain. 

I request you to please accept the book as an goodwill gesture. There is no need to return the item to us.  I hope this helps. 

We look forward to seeing you again soon.  

Warmest regards.

So, should I tire of practicing G chords, there are 950 pages of The Second World War to keep me amused.

Finally, you've waited far too long to learn about my flea-ridden dog.  If you pluck the strings of a ukulele, from top to bottom (as you do when tuning it), you get this little tune.  And to it, it is traditional in ukulele-playing circles, to sing "My dog has fleas."  So now you know!  

The Kent & East Sussex Railway

Holman F Stephens runs round her (his?) train at Tenterden
for the next trip to Bodiam

No Angie holiday would be complete without at least one visit to a preserved railway. So guided by my sometimes trusty satnav, I pointed Bluebell in the direction of the Kent & East Sussex Railway at Tenterden, there to meet up with Julliette.

Isn't blogging wonderful?  Julliette first contacted me through the medium of this blog and now we're good friends.

For railways buffs, the K&ESR holds a special fascination as it was once one part of Colonel Stephens' group of railways - a quaint collection of moribund lines that included the aptly named Weston, Clevedon & Portishead – the WC & P! Each was run with the utmost economy, and most drew to themselves an amazing collection of motive power that other self-respecting railways were happy to see the back of.  All of which, of course, added greatly to the fascination of these lines.

The preservation society has done a wonderful job at bringing the K&ESR back to life, and they are currently pressing on with plans to extend their line to its original junction with the 'main' line at Robertsbridge. Consequently, Colonel Stephens' old railway is now busier than it has ever been. To cater for the burgeoning traffic, locomotives and coaches have been amassed, platforms extended and passing loops installed. Inevitably, some of the old line's bucolic charm has been lost in the process, but I doubt that anyone's complaining.

After a hastily devoured lunch, Julliette and I boarded a steam train for the trip to Bodiam and back, hauled (most appropriately) by tank engine No.23, Holman F Stephens. Our fellow travellers may have wondered why these two middle-aged ladies displayed quite so much interest in the passing railwayana, but we're unrepentant. Julliette has a special fascination for ancient goods wagons, leaping out onto the platform when she spied a particularly interesting specimen, whilst I contributed to the conversation with vaguely intelligent comments on the signalling.

Finally, Julliette snapped this up-to-date version of the classic "Big Engine / Little Person" poster. Ok, the engine's not so big and the small person is rather large, but it was a fitting end to a wonderful day.

Rye Reflections

A view from the tower of St Mary's Church, with the Ypres Tower in the
centre and the River Rother in the background.  The Rother used to reach
the sea 10 miles up the coast at New Romney until a big storm changed
its course in 1287.

I hope that I don't offend the good residents of East Sussex when I say that Rye would not have been my first choice for a holiday. Living in Cornwall, never more than a couple of miles from the sea, holiday destinations were usually chosen for their hills and mountains, or the thrill of experiencing some foreign culture. On all three counts, East Sussex scores poorly.

Now, though, we don't live in Cornwall, but in Gloucestershire  And in our dotage we aim to discover those parts of the Kingdom that have been overlooked hitherto, not least because they're now some 150 miles nearer home than they used to be.  Our first choice was the part of southern England that lies between Eastbourne and Dover, and an Internet search revealed that Rye might be a good spot.

Lucy demonstrates the direction from which rain falls.

As I mentioned in my last post, our exploration of Rye was aided by local girl Lucy, who guided us along cobbled streets, up a church tower, around a castle and finally into a salubrious tea room. Later we hit the streets again for a spot of evening photography - a skill I have yet to master as most of my attempts came out blurred. I'm sure the secret lies in persuading my camera to stay at maximum aperture (and hence fastest shutter speed) but I've yet to discover how it's done. 

Incidentally, one of our local schools is offering evening classes in 'How to use your Bridge Camera' but I've chosen their Ukulele classes instead.  Next time, maybe... or perhaps I'll just read the manual!

Over the week we returned to the streets of Rye many times and feasted twice at an Italian restaurant that, in my humble opinion, has no equal.

One of my nighttime shots that did work.  I took this one as we chatted
with a guy from Epsom, who told us that there wasn't much of
interest in Rye.  I don't think there's much in Epsom, but I'm glad he likes it.

Half Way

For weeks I've been looking forward to our holiday in Rye.  Today I'm half way through it and (so far) haven't blogged a single word. Shame on me.  All of which goes to show, though, that quiet evenings, with "3" dongle duly dongled and laptop upon my lap top have been in short supply.

So far I've clocked up a 15 mile walk along a military canal (built to repulse a Napoleonic invasion), two wonderful days in the company of local girl Lucy Melford and a day on the Kent & East Sussex Railway.  All this, and more, will be described in loving detail when I return home and have sorted out the photos.

Rye has turned out to be an excellent choice for a holiday,with its cobbled streets (lovely to look at; less so to walk on), quaint tea rooms and countless antique shops. Our postage stamp-sized cottage in the centre of the town is truly delightful - just one comfy bed, a tiny lounge and even tinier kitchen.  But, despite being situated on a busy road, it's quiet, warm and welcoming. 

Here, Lucy and I are about to tackle a 'light' lunch before setting out on Lucy's conducted tour of Rye. We returned to the same spot for our evening meal of chicken, stuffed with pesto and wrapped in bacon. Clearly, one thing neither of us will do on this holiday is to starve. On the contrary, it's probably just as well that I was a good girl and lost all that weight beforehand.

Autumn cometh

Speech House Lake

A cool mist hung over the Forest of Dean this morning as I set out on a 7 mile hike. It's what I call 'in between weather' - a bit warm for wearing a cardigan; a bit cool without one. 

Summer is slowly turning to Autumn. Beech and oak trees are leading the way as their leaves turn golden brown, then fall to the ground. Not many yet, but in a few weeks' time the whole forest will be bathed in autumn colours. I wanted to photograph these first signs - another page in my project to record the changing scene throughout a year. 

Intrepid Angie, on a rickety bridge over Blackpool Brook

This time the starting point was Speech House, in the middle of the forest.  From there I walked southeast in an area that I haven't explored before, and soon I arrived at the Speech House Lake. Why had I never been here? This is surely the most beautiful of the forest lakes.  I shared it with a couple of anglers and a party of children, but they were content to stay near the car park. At my end, the misty, moisty morning seemed to impart an extra measure of beauty and solitude.

To the south lay Acorn Patch, which I've already covered in some detail, so I won't bore you by describing the rest of the walk homeward. Instead, I'll let these photos tell their own story.

Beech Trees beginning to turn Autumn gold

I photographed these, confident that there'd be a good crop of sweet chestnuts to collect on my next hike.
Now I look at the leaves, though, I'm not so certain.  O to be an expert!
(ps. A sweet chestnut it is not!  See Ruby's comment (below))

These I do know!  And very tasty they were.

A camera-shy grey squirrel.  When I first saw the little fellow, he was scurrying around on the ground.  However, by the  time I'd switched on the camera, set the focus and zoomed in, he was departing rapidly.