Friday, November 12, 2010

David Hockney and Me

Back in the “Days of Noah” (mid-60s) I used to hitch-hike up and down the M1 from university to my mother’s house in Yorkshire. Generally a safe and uneventful mode of transport, usually aided by the wearing of a college scarf to reassure drivers that I was harmless. I have various memories of these days but the one that I like to share is as follows. I was picked up by a guy in a fairly non-descript car that turned out to be a rental. Making conversation was part of the “deal”; it was a reasonable assumption that most drivers wanted company. The driver looked vaguely familiar but it was only after he told me that he lived in the USA and was an artist that I recognized David Hockney.

He was also on his way to see his mum ..… in near-by Bingley and he was gracious enough to drive me all the way to Riddlesden.

Coincidentally, he and I had gone to the same grammar school (at different times) though he had left at the earliest opportunity and transferred first to to Bradford College of Art and then to the Royal School of Art in London. He did remember “Jock” Gross, an English teacher who was perhaps the only member of staff at school who truly appreciated Hockney's genius.

There was at one time a large oil of Hockney’s on a school classroom wall. I assume it is now in a safer place. One of his paintings fetched almost $8 million in 2009. What a pity I did not finagle a signed sketch from him.

La Crema is what it takes: true espresso


There are, in my opinion, precious few coffee shops in Austin that truly know how to make espresso drinks.

One common denominator between those that do, is that they all use “La Marzocco”machines. The company was founded by Giuseppe Bambi in 1927 and with their professional machines costing around $12000, they are not for the fiscally faint-hearted.

For the consumer, one critical characteristic that distinguishes “OK” from “Exceptional” espresso is the Crema. It is part of the visual allure of espresso, the aromatics, the mouth-feel, the flavor and long-lasting aftertaste of espresso. In its technical definition, crema is gas bubbles suspended in a liquid film that has high surface tension between the water molecules. Crema should be compact and persistent: it should last a full two minutes before the suspended water molecules drain, the entrapped gas is released and the liquid underneath shows through.

Sadly, nearly all coffee shops offer just froth which is a pathetic imitation of the true product.

And the winners are:

Café Medici (1101 West Lynn & 2222 B Guadalupe St)

JP's Java (2803 San Jacinto Blvd.)

Once Over Coffee (2009 South First Street).

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Its rather sad that so many wonderful children’s’ books do not appear to have survived from one generation to another. Of course there are endless examples of those that do: Peter Rabbit, Pooh, Wind in the Willows, all the Edith Nesbit titles, Frances Hodgson Burnett (very yuky though the Secret Garden was OK; set in Yorkshire, of course), Tolkein and Noel Streatfield.

Some, such as Rupert, Swallows and Amazons, Little Grey Rabbit and the Just William series seem to be kept alive only by those who were childhood afficandos years ago. Other titles were shamed into oblivion such as Epaminondas, Little Black Sambo and most of the Enid Blyton material (though the latter seems to have remarkable resilience).

But what about the others? I was lucky: I grew up in a home with three siblings and all of us were encouraged to read, read, read. From my elder brother’s books I was able to enjoy My Friend Mr. Leakey, The Log of the Ark and Golden Island.

All minor classics in their time but now most likely out-of-print.

My favorite from my sister’s titles was the Family from One-End Street which does seem to be a survivor though heavily criticized for its class stereo-typing.

From my own childhood there are Ditta’s Tree, the Meeting Pool and Roger Lancelyn Green’s retelling of the ancient classics. Now long disappeared from most bookshelves. My younger brother added Stig of the Dump, also a survivor, to my inventory.

“Children Catching Criminals” seems to be a favorite theme that transcended all our generations: Emil & the Detectives (1929), the very similar Otterbury Incident (1948) and A Hundred Million Francs (1958) all tell essentially the same tale and these three seem to be still around.

And what of the more recent material? Will Harry Potter be around fifty years from now?

Monday, September 20, 2010

One Big Mother

Sharon claimed that she had seen the biggest turtle in Texas down on Shoal Creek. Ever skeptical, I had to wonder. Sometimes her Patrick genes resulted in just a few teeny-weeny exaggerations. I never saw him. I took friends to see him and he was never there. However, lured by the mandatory stale bread he finally did appear today . Maybe not the biggest but certainly One Big Mother. Check out his smaller buddy who was no midget. p.s. the last guy in the pictures was another guy ..... quite big but not a true giant.




Sunday, May 9, 2010

Reflections on a week in Tibet


Two weeks business in Beijing in April meant that Sharon and I could plan for something we never did when living there in the 90s …… visit Tibet, the Shangri-La of literature and film. We had made a decision not to visit South Africa in her apartheid days but had made an inconsistent trip to Myanmar in the 1990s. Would not visiting Tibet make any kind of statement? Presumably not.

The first week in the capital allowed us to reacquaint ourselves with the cultural nuances of China. The highlight was when Sharon, her excellent Mandarin notwithstanding, failed in her attempts to persuade officers of the local police station to wash and iron our clothes. The laundry was actually two doors further down the street. As the week progressed, her team of playmates gradually gathered.

The flight for me to Lhasa was memorable in only two ways. In Beijing airport I saw the Mongolian farmer who has at one time been the world’s tallest man, authenticated by the Guinness Book of Records. http://www.thetallestman.com/baoxishun.htm

I refrained from asking for my photograph with Bao as I felt sorry for him and did not want to perpetuate the freak-show environment that he must constantly live in. Dozens of other airport users were not so restrained.

The other thing that was very noticeable was how many of the young, petite and attractive Air China cabin attendants had “round eyes”. That particular brand of cosmetic surgery must have become “de rigor” in China these days. Yet another reflection on our media-driven perception of beauty.

The Peoples’ Republic of China invaded Tibet in 1951 (officially the “Peaceful Liberation”) and have been pursuing a policy of assimilation with the Han ever since. This effort was compounded during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) when Red Guards wreaked havoc on many of Tibet’s Buddhist temples and monasteries. Things got worse after the completion of the Qinghai-Tibet rail link (the world’s highest railroad) in 2006. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/5133220.stm

The counter-argument, of course, is that the Tibet of old was truly a brutal and repressive feudal system and that the opening of the country has indeed created a more egalitarian society and fostered economic growth.

Central Tibet presents an arid and seemingly barren countryside. The magnificent Himalayas were too far to the south for us to see, although some of the hills surrounding Lhasa were still capped with late-spring snow. Most of the sights we visited were Buddhist: the Dali Llama’s Potala winter palace, the temples and the monasteries. The Chinese are masters at wholly convincing restoration. Although many of the institutions were founded as far back as the 7th century, it was often difficult to distinguish sections that were original from those that have been restored in the 80s and 90s. Perhaps a period of remorse?

We did develop a better appreciation of Tibetan Buddhism but the role of the monks in society appears to be becoming more confused, perhaps even controversial. Whereas the monasteries were traditionally centers of learning and medicine, it is becoming harder these days to understand their place in modern Tibet. The monasteries and temples are funded by contributions from working people, most of whom can ill-afford it but who are willing to make the sacrifice for spiritual insurance. We were told by our Tibetan guide that the monasteries’ incumbents make little practical contribution to the earthly well-being of their “flock”. It was not uncommon to see bored monks texting their friends during the chanting sessions. Hardly earning their keep. The exception seemed to be the one nunnery that we visited, where we did get a sense that the nuns were perhaps more engaged with the country’s society of today.

Our visit to Tibet was probably at least twenty years too late, at least as far as Lhasa and the surrounding towns are concerned, with the PLA now patrolling most major streets. Seeing a recent documentary on Tibet convinced me that it is still possible to see the “real thing” but that this needs to be done with an adventure tour group which takes you way beyond the Lhasa region which is gradually converging on becoming a typical mainstream Chinese city. Of course there were the little cultural vignettes. The yaks and the yak butter:

Our idiosyncratic (and sadly lacking) Cool Yak hotel and the oddities in the market. I bet the teeth are cheaper than Texas.

Our return to Beijing was via the two-day train ride on which we saw small herds of both the Tibetan wild asses and small grey antelope. Other than having to negotiate constantly-flooded toilet-facilities, it was a smooth and relaxing experience, allowing me to read the whole of Bill Bishop’s “The Big Sort”. The cultural vignette that closed this trip to China, perhaps our last, was when Sharon and I went for an Italian meal on our last night. She picked up two breadsticks and absently-mindedly tried to use them as chopsticks.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

People Like Us


In 2008, Sharon and I spent a considerable amount of money to move from San Antonio’s 78209 zip code (the affluent and very conservative Terrill Hills/Alamo Heights subdivision) to the 78256 zip code (Rosedale, one of Austin’s more liberal enclaves). Voluntarily relinquishing our supposedly elite “09-er” status, we had just “sorted ourselves”.

Fast forward to April of this year when we took the two-day train ride from Lhasa to Beijing. This, the longest railway journey I have ever undertaken, allowed me to read Bill Bishop’s “The Big Sort” which documents the dramatic acceleration of the cultural and political division of America society over the last thirty years. This has been a process of self-selection whereby those that have the means to do so, have chosen to live in areas where everybody thinks and lives like they do.

This process manifests itself in many ways: voting preferences, educational beliefs, principles of child rearing, opinions on major social issues, environmental concerns etc. This is not a new phenomenon, people have been seeking out their own for millennia. However it is the pace and degree of this segregation that Bishop claims is so remarkable. Savvy advertisers, the Evangelical church and the Republican Party in 2004 have been quick to understand and exploit the Big Sort, effectively identifying and targeting potential customers and constituents.

Another manifestation of this change is that the rule of “all or nothing” is now rigorously enforced. If you are to be embraced as a true conservative then you must subscribe to all their tenets. The same is no less true to be considered a reliable liberal. Having a diverse range of opinion seems to be becoming less acceptable to both sides. Ironically, this leads, perhaps, to a valid accusation of hypocrisy on the part of the left. Whereas the more liberal sections of society claim to embrace diversity in all its forms (gender, age, race, sexual preferences), they are often unwilling to consider the opinions of their political opposition. One could argue that much of the far right make no such claims of diversity in the first place. In either case, it makes it extremely difficult (sadly) to engage in intelligent discussion of the issues without rancor or even hatred.

Things get worse. Sociologists and psychologists argue that tribal grouping in of itself can lead to even further intolerance, conflict and eventually self-destruction. At the very least, in means that reaching a consensus on the major issues of the day becomes increasingly less likely. True moderates and independent voters are becoming endangered species and straight-ticket voting becomes the norm.

Though a well-researched book which presumably relies on sound statistical data, “The Big Sort” was clearly written by a liberal. Bishop has, of course, already sorted himself into Austin’s Travis Heights. What is not quite clear is whether he “blames” the right wing for the “Sort” or whether he acknowledges that it is indeed a truly bi-partisan phenomenon.

Monday, February 15, 2010

"Appalachian Clogging Board" Prototype I

Built to withstand the rigours of an Appalachian Clogger doing her thing.



Internal and external steel reinforcing brackets. Not a nail in the whole thing.


Now if only we could get the Coefficient of Friction of the wood surface just right ..........

Greener Every Day

I guess being in (very green) Austin, it was only a matter of time before composting took its place in our lives.


Relatively high tech ??????

Box for the Owl Family

Here is the new owl box thanks to Steve (construction) and Chris (installation)


Now we just have to wait for Mr or Mrs Owl.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Silly Songs

What else do you do while in the last stages of a 55-mile bike ride and you are struggling into a ferocious headwind? Sing silly songs of course. And then you enter into a debate as to whether more of these silly songs originated on one side of the Atlantic or another. Check them out and see how silly one can be.

Pink Toothbrush Blue Toothbrush. Max Bygraves (UK). From the London Docklands. Sharon claims I sang this to her during our courting days but the Truth-o-meter might have a problem with that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r4l-NrckIJk

Seven Little Girls. Paul Evans (USA). Would these lyrics even pass the censors today? Evans was also well known for morbid car-crash songs!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwREhIEhIuE

Telephone Man. Meri Wilson (USA). A song with “with suggestive lyrics and a breathy squealing voice”.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qO18k215gpk

Lollipop. Chordettes (USA).

canon.com/support-hub/win/redirect?pr=ij&id=sfssetup

And I can’t bring myself to link “Yummy Yummy Yummy, I’ve got Love in my Tummy” so I will close with a rhyme that is not on YouTube:

I wish I were a little grub

With whiskers round my tummy.

I'd climb into a honey pot

And make my tummy gummy.

Monday, January 11, 2010

PLEASE RAISE YOUR GLASSES TO THE MEMORY OF IGUANA

Crowder and Sylvia are two of our best friends in Austin. Unfortunately, Christmas brought sadness to their household because the Iguana died. Crowder “inherited” him (her?) on the Rice campus back in the mid 90s and Iguana (no name?) had lived with him ever since. At Rice, Iguana had been famous:

http://www.media.rice.edu/media/NewsBot.asp?MODE=VIEW&ID=4955&SnID=2

No knowing how old Iguana was ….. maybe fifteen years or so which is older than the “norm”, no knowing where it was born or from whence it came. It occupied Crowder’s bathroom for a while but eventually was promoted to its own cage, courtesy of Craig’s List ….. ….. perhaps at Sylvia’s insistence (wanted: one Iguana cage)?

Anyway, Iguana has now left Crowder with an empty cage and for that we are truly very sorry. RIP, Iguana.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Transitions

Moving from a large house to a less-large one means that some things survive and some things move on.

One of the very first pieces of furniture I ever bought (circa 1973) was the Welsh Dresser from Ann and Derrick in Earl’s Court. I think I paid one hundred pounds for it and it has survived both many international moves and our recent relocation to Austin. Quite remarkable as it is very fragile. It is now located in our “Florida room”.

From Miscellaneous

When I lived in Woolwich I frequented an antique shop that specialised in refinished furniture. It was called the Silver Sixpence. One time while there with my friend Eddie, I bought a dresser base for about fifty pounds (mid seventies). It was never a particularly useful piece of furniture but look at its renaissance.

From Miscellaneous

When I was growing up in Yorkshire, a stern but kindly woman called Mrs Tebbs sometimes helped my mother around the house. When the elderly Mrs Tebbs finally moved out of her own house, she gave my mother this magnificent piece of furniture which hereafter became known to us as “Mrs Tebbs”. She has been around the world with me but, sadly, with our own downsizing, it is now time for “Mrs Tebbs” to find a new home. We would like to think that the new owner will keep her name.

From Miscellaneous

And just to keep things in perspective, this bicycle given to me by Jane & Johanna some years ago has received a new coat of metallic blue paint and is now part of Austin’s yard art.

From Miscellaneous